#AND IT DOESN’T EVEN MATTER TO HIM THAT HE WON’T GET TO TRULY EXPERIENCE THE PEACE HE MAKES OR THE PRESENT HE VISITS

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I���ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[wizardrousactivity]

The Rat, Dead Dog. 

The Rat, Dead Dog. 

“I’ve told you, it’s not me-” — You were trained to never fall under pressure, your pleas falling under his deaf ears. Another cut to your calf when he doesn’t hear you forthwith giving up the information, it doesn’t matter how desperate you sound, nobody is here to save you anymore. They can’t trust you anymore. 

He’s trying to convince himself he doesn’t feel bad, that he’s only doing his friends a favor. Getting rid of you for good - dispensing with the waste of the world, which unfortunately had to be you, didn’t it? The only person that he thought he could trust, you bewitched him. The mask had slipped off because of you, the imperfections were perfected because of you. Now it’s only a cold shoulder - if he’d even give you that. “Give us the fucking information,” The use of your moniker is the way he’d gain your sultry glare. 

You’ve been beaten and battered for days by Simon, and it still feels like months the longer his torture traverses. The metal of the chair you sit on starting to turn red with gore. You fear to lose yourself, if not for the keen rage that fumes, revenge written on its blemishes. “I don’t have the information you want.” You never thought you’d be in such a position with him, a foolish hound falling victim to your framing.  

It’s surprising you weren’t immediately cut off with another lash, the gash he’s continuously spread starting to reach your bone, you dread the stinging of your flesh, held back by a grunted-sob.  For only a second you see his gaze soften with emotion he lacked, like he truly wanted to believe you, and by-god did he wish to - in the event that the threads didn’t lead to you. He swallows. 

There’s too much evidence against you, and his team. His own pathetic feelings aren’t worth the risk of keeping you around, he doesn't think he could handle having you captive with them for long, holding a rat that was dressed up with a story just to use them, use him after everything that happened. The sight would haunt him if you weren’t gone, the weight of his loved one turning out to be a spy, living in a room on base.

The depravity of reality sets on him now, painfully dawning on him. 

He needs to dispose you. For everybody’s sake. 

His hand white-knuckles around the knife, your chest tightens while the behemoth starts to stand to his full stature - an unpredictable mongrel you can only imagine what is coming next, his dilating pupils trembling as he looks at you with terror. The task of your murder would save his mates, and eat him from the inside once he was finished. If there is no information you have to spout - you are better useful dead to them, they could get it themselves. “Simon..” There's no response from him. You are not needed anymore. Don’t make it painful. 

Yet you’re saved by the bell, his head turning as the call from the mohawk is made. Shouting for his arrival with urgency. You only look to the floor as footsteps echo, signifying his leave for the day. "Fuck you."

The gashes in your legs have pooled themselves and made home around your feet, cold air running along the insides of your flesh, and you shudder against your constraints - the feeling is enough to make you nauseous with the sensory you experience. There’s nothing for you to throw up anyway, if there was, it would be your intestines. 

Your heart cinches, as you sit there with the thought of having to live with the fact you’ve been framed, then to die known as the rat in 141, that’s all you’ll ever be now. You’re just another damaged dog, you’ve joined their cult of forever deprecating. Their muffled banter plays beside your ear as you weep.

You’ve accepted that your funeral won’t be made, that nobody will ever honor your death or mourn during it.

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Cats and Coffee for Two

pairing: photgrapher/barista!Wonwoo x barista fem!reader (ft. other sebongs)

genre: fluff, comedy, coworkers to lovers!AU, mutual pining, smut - minors dni.

warnings: mentions of food, alcohol and cat hairs, mentions of headaches and insecurities

smut warnings: oral sex (f rec), unprotected sex (contraception is mentioned but wrap it), creampie, praise, use of petnames, body worship, semi-public sex, manhandling, marking, making out, aftercare

word count: 12.2k

summary: Job hunting is a tough sport and Wonwoo has experienced it to its core. One fine autumn day comes where he's finally free from the shackles of unemployment, but he will soon find himself in the shackles of coffee, tea and cat hairs, But most importantly, he will have to share these shackles with you.

Author's note: this is my entry for the fall-ing for you collab hosted by @svthub! another long piece written by yours truly lmao

p.s.: huge thank you to @bitchlessdino, @gyuwoncheol, @wongyuseokie, @onlymingyus, @wonwussy, @horanghater and @shuadotcom for helping me out with the fic in more ways than one💕

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

“....We received your CV and cover letter. While your educational details are impressive, the lack of working experience does not make you a suitable candidate for the work position in our company. 

We thank you for your time and effort, and we wish you the best of luck.”

“Well fuck off, autogenerated e-mail response.” Wonwoo grumbles and sends the mail straight to the trash bin with an annoyed huff.

Another job opportunity flushed down the drain, to the point where another headache punches its way into his skull. 

He’s tired. He’s tired, drained and disappointed as fuck. He knew job hunting is a tough sport, but he didn’t expect to be kicked to the curb for such a long time. He was hoping to get a chance for an interview, but not even that? 

It makes him wonder if the years he spent in college were worth it after all. 

Wonwoo’s headache gets stronger, to the point he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. He closes his laptop and gets up from his seat, making a beeline to the cupboard where he stores his medical supplies.

He swallows a painkiller, followed by a generous gulp of water from a bottle, hoping it will soothe the pain soon enough.

He walks over to the couch, plopping down unceremoniously. His energy levels have dropped to absolute zero and the maroon colored couch pillow suddenly seems like a gift sent by the Heavens. He takes off his glasses and lays his head on the pillow, eyes closing shut within a few seconds.

Two hours later, his sweet slumber is disrupted by the familiar ringtone of his phone, but the noise doesn’t make him any less terrified. 

“H-Hello?”

“Hi loser, it’s me, your professional emotional and mental support!” A bright voice echoes from the other end of the line.

Wonwoo checks the ID of the caller and groans when he sees Seokmin’s name.

“What is wrong with you, Seokmin?”

“Bold of you to ask that question.”

“I am serious, Seok. Haven’t you heard of afternoon naps?”

“Dude, it’s eight o’clock.”

Wonwoo checks his watch and sighs in disappointment. “Fuck, I overslept, damnit.”

“Just how long were you asleep for?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. Why did you call me?”

“Oh I don’t know, because you’re my friend and I want to check up on you because you’ve been in a slump lately?”

“Damn, way to call me out, I guess.”

“If I don’t call you out, then who will?!”

“....Fair point.”

“Anyways, I’m planning to grab some drinks with Minghao in an hour.”

“Oh nice, hope you have fun.”

“And you’re coming with us.”

“No.”

“Oh come on! It won’t be anything wild, just the three of us drinking some alcohol!” Seokmin whines. “Please? Just this once?”

Wonwoo ponders over his friend’s request and grumbles from his end.

“Fine, if it means to make you hop off my ass, I guess.”

“What ass?”

“You know what, I changed my mi-”

“I’m just kidding!”

“You better be.”

“Okay okay, no need to get your claws out!” 

“Anyways, I’ll see you guys in an hour.” 

“Nice! Make sure to shower before getting out of the house.”

“Fuck you, Seokmin.”

Wonwoo ends the phone call and gets up from the couch, stretching his arms above his head. He takes a whiff from his shirt and he scrunches his eyes in disappointment.

“He’s right, I should take a shower.”

Wonwoo is glad he accepted Seokmin’s invitation, because he had no idea how much he needed this. Not that he would ever admit it.

“You seem less tense than earlier.” Minghao comments.

“It’s all thanks to the alcohol.” 

“And the good company!” Seokmin butts in with his soju glass. “It’s okay to admit I was right.”

“And let it get to your head? No thank you.”

“Wonwoo is right, it will get to your head.” 

“I hate you both!” Seokmin whines and downs his shot.

“Now that’s a lie and you know it.” The younger man deadpans.

Wonwoo watches the bickering between his friends, the rim of the soju glass resting on his bottom lip. But his mind is wicked enough to slip back into his own worries, his face frowning once more.

“Wonwoo? Are you okay?”

Minghao’s voice snaps him out of his trance.

“Hm? Yeah, all good.”

“Buddy, with all due respect, you were looking like your pet cat died or something.” Seokmin narrows his eyes.

“Fuck off, Salem is perfectly fine!” Wonwoo shivers.

“Are you still worried about finding a job?” Minghao asks, hitting the nail on the head.

“Well, how can I not be? I have been struggling ever since I graduated and all I’ve managed to do is photoshoots for stupid influencers!”

He realizes his voice was louder than it was supposed to be, judging from the side-eyeing glares he earned from other customers.

“Damn, you really had to stoop so low?” Seokmin scratches his head.

“Money makes the world go around, or something like that.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Minghao asks again.

“I don’t have enough work experience, let alone serious one, which means my CV doesn’t look very professional right now.”

“Hmm….”

“What?”

“I may have a solution to your problem.”

Wonwoo’s eyes go wide, his irises filling with hope.

“Do you remember Joshua? From the Social Relations department?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“He’s currently working at SVT Cat Cafe, he manages the paperwork and stuff. He could put in a few words for you, if you don’t mind.” Minghao sips the last of his soju.

“You should take the offer, Wonwoo! The cafe is really cute and you will love the kitties!” Seokmin grins excitedly.

“It’s…It sounds really good, to be honest. Almost too good to be true.” Wonwoo lets out a breath he was holding all this time.

“You can always check out their website and send your CV in their email address. They are still hiring people, so it’s a good chance.” 

“Hao, I don’t know what to say, seriously.” Wonwoo laughs nervously.

“People usually say thank you.” Seokmin jokes.

“One more word and I’ll shove the entire soju bottle in your mouth, I swear.”

The view through the window is nothing short of idyllic, almost like the aesthetic images you see on Pinterest and Instagram. Maple leaves are dancing to the rhythm of the November winds, adding color to the dull concrete of the pavement, even if you know they won’t stay there for long.

You can’t say you’ve gotten used to the chilly weather, especially after your late vacation in Greece - it’s always too warm there, as you were warned beforehand. But you’re definitely glad you can enjoy a hot cup of coffee with cinnamon and chocolate sprinkles before the opening.

You hear tiny meows behind the mahogany counter and you walk in front of it, letting out a sigh when you pinpoint the source of the noises.

“Tofu, I swear to God.” You put the cup down and pick the white kitty in your arms. “I know you like roaming around but your cat hairs are invisible and I don’t want them in the beverages.”

The feline just tilts her head sideways and purrs in your arms, her green eyes staring at you, as if she is the most innocent creature in the universe (she is, most of the time).

“Your boba eyes aren’t working on me, missy. I know your true nature.”

Tofu responds with another meow, as if she’s asking you ‘who, me?’.

You go back and forth with the cat’s meows and purrs, utterly unaware of the presence of two men just a few feet away.

“Does that happen on a daily basis?” Wonwoo asks with a hushed voice.

“Yeah, with almost every single cat.” Joshua responds. “Although Tofu is her favorite.”

“I think I can see that.” 

You hear a couple of whispers behind you and you turn your attention to the two men.

“Oh, Joshua! You’re early today.” You comment. “And who is the gentleman next to you?”

“U-Uh, hi. I’m Jeon Wonwoo.” The man fixes his glasses nervously.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N.” You stretch your arm, waiting for a handshake. 

“L-Likewise.” Wonwoo hesitantly shakes your hand.

“Wonwoo will be the photographer for our social media accounts and official website, starting today.” Joshua adds.

“Oh, that’s great news!” You exclaim. “I promise you’ll have a wonderful time working here, Wonwoo.”

“I sure hope so.”

“Well, I’m afraid I have to take my leave now, business is calling.” Joshua announces after checking his watch. “Do not worry, Wonwoo. I’m leaving you in great hands. And paws.”

“See you later, Shua!” You bid your coworker farewell.

Tofu walks around Wonwoo’s legs and rubs herself all over him.

“I think she likes you.”

“You think so?” Wonwoo asks as he bends down to pet the cat, a fond smile on his face as the feline leans into his hand.

“She’s pretty picky with people, so seeing her so warm towards someone she has never seen before is pretty much a miracle.” You chuckle.

“Well, I should feel honored then.” He responds with a small smile.

“Would you like to order something? I could fix you a cup before the opening.”

“Um, could I have an iced americano then?”

“Wow, you’re brave.” You laugh in disbelief.

“What makes you say that?”

“You just ordered iced coffee in the middle of autumn. Does your throat have a death wish?” You put a few ice cubes in a plastic cup.

“Force of habit, I guess.” Wonwoo replies.

“That sounded very…moody.”

“Sorry, it wasn’t my intention…” He laces his fingers together and purses his lips together.

“You aren’t quite the extroverted one, are you?” You place the cup with the bitter liquid in front of him.

“Not really.” 

“It’s okay! You will be able to overcome it with time.” You try to reassure him.

“If you say so.” Wonwoo takes a sip of his coffee. “I’ll go check out the rest of the cafe, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, feel free to explore a bit!” You smile at him while you wrap your apron around your waist.

“The coffee is really good, by the way.” 

“Thank you! It’s my job, after all.”

Wonwoo searches for his wallet in his backpack, but you stop him before he finds it.

“It’s on the house, no need to pay for it.”

“But-”

“Good luck today, Wonwoo.”

“T-Thanks. You too, Y/N.”

He looks at you one last time before he goes to the open space of the cafe to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

The day progresses without any problems - if anything, the regular customers have already started gossiping about Wonwoo, although most of it revolves around his God-like facial features.

You kinda wish you were serving the coffee instead of making it behind the counter. At least you would have been able to see Wonwoo up close in action with his camera. But you can’t say you haven’t been stealing glances through the window that separates the two spaces of the cafe.

“Eyeing the new guy, are we now?” One of your coworkers leans on the counter in an attempt to gossip.

“Oh, shut up, Chan.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

“Define asking?”

“For someone who claims to be the sunshine type in this business, you’re pretty snappy right now.” The ashen-haired man snickers.

“I’m not snappy! It’s rush hour and I’m trying to focus on my job.” You defend yourself.

“It’s rush hour for everyone here, you’re not special, Y/N.”

“Either way, you’re not getting anything out of me, Chan.” You place two porcelain cups filled with hot chocolate. “Now get these to table four.”

“Vibe killer.” Chan grumbles under his breath as he places the cups on the disk.

“I heard that, shortie!” 

“No cupcakes for you tomorrow!” He mocks you before disappearing into the outer space of the cafe.

You let out an exasperated sigh, followed by a short laugh and you return to the coffee machine, checking the orders you have received and start making them one by one.

While the cafe hasn’t been operating for long, you’ve been part of it since day one. You feel glad to be finally putting your barista working license to work and do something that you love dearly - blame your undying love for coffee and cats.

Chan was also one of the first employees who joined the team, but he’s on the service part and he’s damn good at it (even if he did break a couple of glasses on his first week). The regular patrons know him by name and he never fails to make them swoon over with just a single smile of his.

Chan is a sweetheart, but also a little shit when it comes to teasing you. Although he never once overstepped with teasing. But he always goes overboard with the treats he gets you from the bakery across the street. You still remember the six pieces of cinnamon rolls he got you two weeks ago and how persistent he was for you to eat them all (you ate them all eventually).

Late in the afternoon, your shift comes to an end and you hang your apron, starting to pack up your stuff. Wonwoo walks into the main area and starts dismantling his camera to put it back in its box.

“So, how did the first day go?” You attempt to strike conversation.

“It was….interesting, I suppose.” He shrugs.

“You sound a bit tired….”

“My social battery died about halfway through the shift, to be honest.” He admits with a heavy sigh. “At least the cats are sociable enough to let me pet them.”

“I think you should go home and get some rest.” You give him some advice.

“I don’t think rest is going to happen anytime soon, but thanks.” He zips up his bag and throws it over his shoulder. “Goodnight and see you tomorrow, Y/N.” He bids you farewell and disappears through the doors of the cafe.

Shame, he’s cute but so uptight, you think. It’s not like there’s anything else you can do right now, so you leave the cafe, locking it shut and you walk towards the bus station to catch your ride back home.

A while later, you’re laying in your bed under the covers and decide to scroll through your socials for a while before falling asleep. You open Instagram and check your notifications, your eyes zooming on the purple circle around the profile picture of the cat cafe.

You click on it and a smile creeps on your face when you see Wonwoo’s picture on one of the Instagram stories, tagging Wonwoo’s account and welcoming him to the team. Curiosity gets the better of you and you click on the tag, leading you to his personal account. You frown a bit when you notice it’s private, but you don’t hesitate to send him a following request.

You hope he won’t think you’re a creep or something. I mean, he can definitely recognize you from your profile picture, right?

To your luck, a notification pops up on the top part of your screen and you squeal when you realize that Wonwoo has followed you back.

You waste zero time to check the pictures he has posted over the years and you quickly understand that he’s not the type to show off his face. But the one thing that’s prominent in his account is the astronomical amount of breathtaking pictures from the places he has visited throughout his life. You break into a giggling fit when you click on a post with his cat and you read a few comments from his friends, lovingly making fun of his ‘cat dad’ tendencies. Your heart swells when you see more photos of him playing with a black cat and petting him until said cat slaps his hands away.

Now you know why Tofu liked him at first sight.

One week later.

Today is an off day for you and you plan to sleep until midday. But your boss has other plans.

You want to cuss at everything around you within a radius of ten kilometers when your phone rings and you rub your eyes to forcefully wake yourself up and answer the call.

“Good morning, Boss.” 

“Good morning, Y/N. I’m sorry for calling you so early, but you need to come as soon as you can at the cafe.”

“Why is that? I mean, it’s my day off today.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t an emergency.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yoona just called me from the hospital, she had an accident yesterday.”

“What?!” You nearly jump out of the bed. “Is she okay?!”

“She’s out of harm's way, but her arm has suffered a fracture and she won’t be able to work for the next two months.”

“Oh my God….”

“We really need you here, Y/N.”

“Yes, yes of course. I’ll be there in half an hour.” You say and end the call. 

You grumble and get out of the bed, your feet taking you to the bathroom to wash your face and fix your hair. Once you’re out, you go back to the bedroom and pick a hoodie with jeans to put on.

You walk out of your apartment and fasten your jacket around you, jogging to the bus station to catch your ride to work.

Twenty minutes later, you arrive at the cafe and you’re welcomed with a literal mess in the barista bench and a yelling Chan and a frustrated Wonwoo. 

“This isn’t how you’re supposed to turn it!”

“And what do you know about coffee machines?!”

“All corks are manufactured to fasten towards a certain direction!.”

“You’re just a photographer, not an engineer!”

“And you’re just a waiter, not a barista!”

“Whoa, whoa! Both of you, get away from the machines!” You yell at them and shoo them away to get to work. “Jesus, what the hell did you do here?!”

“We were just trying to make the orders!” Chan defends himself.

“You could have just told the customers that coffee won’t be served until the barista is here!”

“That’s what I suggested as well, but he said ‘he knows better’.” Wonwoo shrugs.

“Yeah, that’s because I’ve been here longer than you!” The shorter man retorts.

“Sometimes, it’s productive to listen to other people’s ideas, they might help you in ways you could never imagine.” You sigh as your hands fiddle with the machine and check the orders one by one.

“Finally, someone with common sense.” Wonwoo points towards you. “At least some people know how to think in here.” He walks away and picks up his camera again, resuming his initial tasks.

“I can’t believe you took his side!” Chan complains to you.

“I didn’t take his side, our opinions just happened to collide!” 

“Oh my God, you’re so into him, it actually sickens me.” The man fake gags.

“Can you stop bringing that up?! What if he listens?!” You whip your head around and glare at your friend.

“So you admit it! You have a crush on him!”

“Yeah I do. You can get your ‘detective of the year’ honorary badge now.” You groan.

“I- Ugh, whatever.”

“Look, Chan, I wasn’t even supposed to be here today. Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” 

 Chan lets out a deep breath to calm down as he picks up the serving disk.

“I know, Y/N. I hope the remaining apple pie in the box will lighten up your mood and fill in your empty stomach. It’s freshly baked.” 

“......You idiot.”

“I love you too, work wife.” He flashes you a grin and runs back to the customers.

You take a peek in the pastry box and the aroma of cinnamon and apples hits your nostrils like the early morning sunlight enters a cold room.

Your fingers don’t hesitate to dip in the box and pick a bite from the dessert, putting it in your mouth to eat it. You hum in approval when the sweet warmth envelopes your taste buds, giving you a much needed energy boost.

You return to your work at hand, completely unaware of Wonwoo’s eyes watching you like a hawk, an unreadable expression overcoming his features. The tuxedo cat jumping on the shelf next to his head snaps him out of it, letting out a cranky meow at him.

“What is it, Taro?” He raises his hand to pet her fur.

Taro meows back as she flops down on the surface to stretch herself out for more pets.

“Jealous of not giving you enough attention?”

She meows even louder this time, as if she’s saying yes.

“I’m sorry, your Highness.” Wonwoo ruffles her belly. “A man has to work to get by.”

Taro narrows her eyes, as if she’s doubting his words.

“Okay fine, I was looking at her! What are you gonna do about it?”

The cat raises her front paws in the air and Wonwoo lets out an airy laugh, positioning his camera towards the long-haired feline to capture her in a few poses.

“Hope those pictures will be enough for you to stop blackmailing me.”

Two weeks later.

God, these double shifts are fucking killing me, you mentally groan while sitting in one of the tables next to the cat trees. But it’s nice working early, since you get to come here and chill with the cats before opening time.

One of the resident cats jumps next to you, rubbing himself on your thigh.

“Good morning to you too, Dino Nugget. Did you sleep well?”

The orange cat jumps in your lap and sits in a loaf position without even asking you.

“Wow sir, it’s not even free real estate.” You laugh and run your hand over his fur.

He turns around and starts pawing at your hand, as if it’s a toy. He then opens his jaw to nibble at your finger, his teeth grazing your skin a bit harsher than usual.

“Ow, dude! That’s my hand, not your chew toy!” You yelp lightly.

You hear the clicking sound of a camera not far away from you and you snap your head to the source of the sound, your eyes falling on Wonwoo.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you-”

“No no, it’s okay! You were just doing your job.” You wave your hand.

“Do you….mind if I sit with you?” He asks sheepishly.

“Of course not! I was about to ask you, actually.” You smile.

Wonwoo makes himself comfortable next to you, smiling towards the orange cat.

“You seem to have loosened up a bit.”

“Yeah. But moments like those are also nice.” He says. “It can get….hectic sometimes and I don’t always deal well with pressure.”

“That’s exactly why the kitties are here! They have this magic ability to take away the negativity from you.” 

“Including this one?” He points towards Dino Nugget.

“Yeah. But he will try to bite you, no matter what.”

“Well, he’s an orange cat. What did you expect?” Wonwoo deadpans and you look at him with a shocked expression.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to-”

You cut him off with a laughter loud enough to scare Dino Nugget off your lap.

“You’re so serious about cats, it’s actually funny!” You admit between laughs.

“Of course I’m serious about them! And you aren’t?”

“I am! I just didn’t expect that random orange cat fact, y’know.”

“Oh, okay.” Wonwoo purses his lips.

Silence befalls the outer space.

“Great, now I made things awkward again.” He sighs in defeat.

“No, you didn’t! It was just…. well…”

“Awkward behaviour.”

“.....Yeah, actually.”

“God, Seokmin is so fucking right.” Wonwoo curses at himself.

“Who’s Seokmin?”

“One of my best friends and the bane of my existence. He has been pestering me about my lack of social skills and stuff like that.”

“I would say he sounds almost like Chan.”

“Seokmin doesn’t buy me pastries every day.”

“Did you just emit jealousy, Wonwoo?”

“No, I’m just stating the facts. I’m 100% sure he will show up today with another box of fresh desserts.”

“You can always get a bite from them.” You nudge his shoulder.

“I don’t think he would like that.”

“Why are you so negative about Chan?”

“I’m not negative! He’s just… you guys seem really close with each other, that’s all.”

“Wonwoo, we’re just friends! The work husband and wife thing is just for funsies!” You reassure him and his features soften almost immediately.

“If you say so.”

“Wonwoo, I’m being serious.”

“I know. I don’t mean to call you a liar or something.”

“Okay…” You trail off with an uncertain look written over your face.

Another moment of silence passes until Wonwoo speaks up again.

“How are you handling the double shifts?”

“Terribly. My sleep schedule has been fucked up and I don’t think I’ll be able to fix it any time soon.” You slouch in your seat.

“Any updates about the recruitment?”

“Absolutely nothing so far. Unless a miracle happens.” You scoff.

“Can you teach me how to make coffee then?” Wonwoo asks you and your eyes shoot up in surprise.

“I- Uhm, yeah I can, but why?”

“I want to help you.”

“With making coffee?!”

“Yes. What’s so weird about it?” 

“N-Nothing! I just didn’t expect you to offer to help me.”

“The truth is that I haven’t been the best towards you, while you’ve been very warm and welcoming towards me since day one.” He admits while averting your gaze.

“But giving you extra work outside of your expertise is outrageous!”

“But I’m the one asking for it!” 

A loud chirping sound comes from behind you and you notice Henry shooting a death glare at you for disrupting his beauty sleep.

“Go to sleep, Henry.” You roll your eyes at the tabby cat and the feline yawns before stretching his hind legs.

“So? What do you think?” Wonwoo asks you again.

You look at him and you can see a fire being ignited in his eyes, as if he really wants to do that.

You check your watch and look between Wonwoo and the inner space of the cafe, solidifying your decision.

“Get up.” You pat his back.

“Does that mean yes?”

“It means that you need to pay a lot of attention and catch up quickly. We have less than an hour and a half until the cafe opens.” You walk into the cafe and towards the barista counter.

Wonwoo goes towards the cat trees, smiling brightly towards the felines.

“Watch me learn how to brew coffee and win her over, okay?”

Two sharp knocks on the window wall snap him back to reality and he looks at you furiously waving at him to come inside.

Wonwoo jogs back in the cafe, joining you behind the counter.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You put your hands on your waist.

“Uh, to watch you make coffee?”

“Rule number one: Never enter the barista area without lint-rolling your clothes first.” You point towards a shelf away from the counter, where a couple of lint rollers are.

“When did you even clean yourself up?” Wonwoo asks while running the roller over his hoodie and jeans.

“When you were talking to the cats.” You deadpan.

“Okay, my clothes are clean. Now what?”

“Rule number two: Always wear a barista apron while working behind your counter. We hang them right next to the window wall.”

He picks one of the aprons and puts the top strap around his neck, tying the lower one around his waist. You don’t miss the double loop and you wonder how slim his waist must be and how you hands would-

“What is rule number three?” His question cuts your train of thoughts and you try to get yourself together.

“Wash your hands thoroughly, of course.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The first steps of Wonwoo’s barista adventures go rather smoothly - he realizes he’s good at memorizing the various coffee blends. Handling the machine isn’t that much difficult, but it’s definitely not as easy as assembling his camera.

His eyes never leave your skilled hands, effortlessly maneuvering a glass under the machine, clicking the proper buttons to make a serve of espresso. 

“That looked so easy, but something tells me it won’t be as easy as I think it is.” Wonwoo laughs awkwardly.

“It’s actually not very hard. You just have to be careful with the amount of coffee you will put in the portafilter.” 

“Can I try now?”

“Don’t be impatient. You need to throw away the used shot and then purge the machine with water first.” You explain with a smile.

“Hm, okay. I think I can do that.” 

He takes out the portafilter and disposes of the used espresso shot. He cleans the portafilter separately while running the machine with only water. 

“Good job! It was smart to clean the portafilter during the machine run.” 

“Thought it would save me time.”

“And you thought well. This can be really useful during rush hour.”

“What’s next?”

“You dry the filter and fill it in with the desired amount of espresso. But remember, it needs to be even!”

“Got that.” He grabs the bag of ground coffee and takes a few spoonfuls of the blend and puts it in the clean filter, tapping it on the counter to flatten the surface. 

“Use the tamper to tamp it down and make it compact enough.” You remind him of the next step.

He wordlessly follows your tip and does exactly as you told him, locking the portafilter in the machine. He grabs a demitasse glass and places it under the machine and presses the button, watching the dark brown liquid flow into the cup.

“Congratulations, you just made your first cup of espresso!” You give him tiny claps and he smiles sheepishly. 

“Moment of truth.” He breathes out and hands you over the glass to taste the coffee he made. You take a sip and allow your taste buds to absorb the rich flavor.

“Not bad for the first time!” You hum in satisfaction.

“Thank God, I thought I would poison you or something.” Wonwoo lets out a heavy breath.

“Why are you so critical of yourself?”

“I have been classified as a kitchen hazard.”

“Well, this isn’t a kitchen, as you can see.” 

“But still-”

“No buts. You asked to learn how to make coffee and you have to accept that you’re going to make mistakes in the process.”

“I know, but it’s kinda scary.” 

“It was scary for you to work among so many people the first week, but you didn’t give up, did you?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“I am doing it for the cats, Y/N.”

“If that’s what makes your boat float, then who am I to disagree?” You laugh and clean the machine all over again.

The words die down in Wonwoo’s throat and he tries to find something to occupy himself with.

“You don’t have to do anything else around here now.” You tell him.

“Oh. Was that all?” His voice comes out almost disappointed.

“Only for now. It’s not like we have a lot of time left until customers start coming in and I would hate to throw you in the den of wolves right away. Besides, your friends seem to miss you already.” You turn your head to the window wall and Wonwoo follows suit, breaking out in laughter when he sees Dino Nugget scratching against the window.

“Oh my God, not him again.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to him!”

“Y/N, he literally bit you an hour ago.”

“He’s just an orange cat - or so you said. He’s also Chan’s fave.”

“Well too bad I already have a fave.” Wonwoo unties his apron and hangs it.

“Ooh, who is it?” You ask with curiosity.

“That’s my secret.”

“Okay mister secretive.” You scoff lightly.

Secretive. What a great word to describe me, Wonwoo thinks with a tight-lipped smile that fights to become a grin when he returns to the cafe cats, sitting down on one of the tables to fiddle with his camera.

He skims through the picture he has taken so far, stopping at the one where Dino Nugget is in your lap and you’re petting him with a loving smile on his face.

As if on cue, Tofu tip toes her way next to Wonwoo and puts her paw over his hand, raising her body on her hind legs.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” 

The feline purrs loudly and rubs her head on the back of his hand.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

Hours later, at Joshua’s place.

“So you’re telling me that Wonwoo is smitten with Y/N?”

“Yeah! You have to trust me on this, Shua, I just know it!” Chan repeatedly taps his soju glass on the table.

“Okay, but why are you so pressed about it?”

“Because none of them are doing anything about it! And I hate mutual pining with a burning passion!”

“Sounds like you’re scared of losing your work wife to me.” Joshua smirks in his glass.

“I’m not scared! I just want to look out for her!”

“As her work husband?”

“And her bestie, duh!” 

“You’re so dramatic about this.”

“And you’re so nonchalant about this!”

“It’s their business, not mine, Chan!”

“And since when do you not care about gossip, Joshua?” The younger man raises his eyebrow.

“Don’t you see I’m making an effort to stay gossip-free?” Joshua whines in defeat. 

“And it’s failing miserably.”

The older man sighs and drinks a bit of his soju. “Yeah, it fucking did.”

“What, you know things I don’t?”

“Let’s just say that running the HR of an establishment grants you perks that someone like you doesn’t have.”

“Just tell me already! I wasn’t there today, come on!”

“Wonwoo and Y/N were both seen behind the barista counter today.”

“Okay….Maybe he was taking pics of her during the deed? Y’know, for promotion purposes?”

“You don’t understand - Y/N was showing him how to operate the coffee machine. He even managed to make a few batches of espresso.”

Chan chokes on alcohol and starts coughing loudly, smacking his chest.

“Whoa, whoa, breathe!” Joshua offers him a glass of water. “I didn’t mean to kill you!”

“Well - gah - I certainly felt like dying!” He gasps for breath. “But - How? When did things escalate so fast?!”

“From what I’ve heard, Wonwoo wanted to help Y/N until someone applies for the position and Boss agreed to it, as long as he’s under Y/N’s supervision.”

“Fuck this, I can help her too!”

“Bitch you don’t even know which way the corks turn!” Joshua laughs.

“Fuck you too, Hong!”

“You know, this could work in their favor. And yours, eventually.”

“How?”

“They will get to spend more time together and grow closer, you idiot!”

“Well yeah, but that also depends on whether one of the two will fuck up the process or not!” Chan retorts.

“Just….have some faith, okay?” Joshua tries to convince him.

“If you say so, I guess.”

Two months later.

“Did you have a secret glow up or something?” Seokmin scans Wonwoo from the top to the bottom.

“You can just admit you were checking me out.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

“As long as the right person isn’t checking you out, my eyes don’t matter, friend.”

“Oh my God, just say you want to talk about Y/N.”

“Yes I fucking do, because she’s clearly the reason you’ve changed!” Seokmin slams his hands on the table. “And for the better!”

“I don’t feel like I’ve undergone any drastic changes, though.” 

“That’s because you’re extremely harsh on yourself and refuse to see the truth!”

“And the truth is?”

Seokmin grunts in disappointment. “That you are head over heels for Y/N, you idiot.”

“And what if I am? I mean, she hasn’t really shown any real interest towards me.” Wonwoo shrugs.

“Dude, she has literally taken you under her wing and taught you how to make coffee! While she was swamped with work!”

“I just wanted to help her, she was doing double shifts for two weeks straight!”

“And I’m more than sure that she likes you even more because of that!”

“I was just trying to be nice, just like that.”

“Wonwoo, nobody is nice just like that. Everyone has their own agendas.” Seokmin smirks. “It all boils down to the benefits these agendas hold. And yours is going to benefit a lot of people.”

“Let’s say you’re right then. Why didn’t she just confess? She’s like, the definition of an extrovert.”

“Not everyone has the guts or lack of tact to just go to their crush and confess their feelings to them, you know.” 

“How can you be so sure that Y/N has a crush on me?”

“I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer them truthfully.” Seokmin puts his palms together.

“Yes, dear therapist.” Wonwoo crosses his arms in front of his chest and mocks his friend.

“Does she know your coffee order?”

“Yeah, but she knows the coffee order of most regulars, it’s her job.”

“Fair point, but does she make coffee for you during work and accompany it with a snack?”

Wonwoo racks his brain for instances that match Seokmin’s question and to his surprise, he recalls a lot of them.

“You don’t even have to say anything, I can see the answer written all over your face.”

“Is that even enough to count as proof?”

“I’m not done yet.” Seokmin takes a sip of water to clear his throat. “Moving on to my next question - does she ask you about your day, how did you sleep and stuff like that?”

“Yeah, but that’s basic human decency.”

“Ugh, whatever. Have you ever complimented her appearance? Like, ‘Hey, that color looks very pretty on you!’ or something like that?”

“.....No.” Wonwoo replies with an awkward expression.

Seokmin rolls his eyes and drags his palms over his face dramatically.

“Why are you acting like this?! I’m not ignoring her on purpose!”

“Then why aren’t you doing anything?!”

“How can I do something when she’s so pretty and popular and a fucking sunshine and I’m….this?” Wonwoo vaguely gestures at himself.

Seokmin sighs audibly and rests his elbows on the table. “Can you tell me what’s really going on? Because I am not buying the shit you’ve said so far.”

Wonwoo’s expression turns bitter the moment Seokmin calls him out.

“There’s a contender?”

“Yeah, that fucking dipshit called Chan. He never misses a chance to show off that stupid smile of his to everyone and call himself Y/N’s ‘work husband’. He has the audacity to buy her snacks whenever their shifts overlap!” 

“Oh my God.” Seokmin bursts out in laughter.

“I’m sharing my problems with you and you’re laughing?”

“I am laughing because you’re green with jealousy!”

“I- I’m not jealous! I’m just stating the facts here! Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Wonwoo, it’s just you and me here, you can be honest.”

“I- Fine, I am jealous of that short bitch and the relationship he has with Y/N.”

“And that’s fine! But you also need to keep in mind that Y/N probably knows this Chan guy longer than she knows you, so it’s kind of natural to have a closer relationship with him.”

“You are not helping right now, Seok.”

Silence befalls the two friends as they pick on the leftovers of their food, contemplating their discussion.

“Something just popped into my head.” Seokmin speaks up again.

“It better not be another brain fart of yours.” Wonwoo grimaces.

“You should go to work tomorrow with your motorbike!”

“Okay. And?” 

“And….You should dress up a tad bit fancier for once.”

“Why should I even-”

“Shhhhhhh, just… Just do as I say, okay? Now zip it, I wasn’t finished yet.” Seokmin shushes him. “Let me think…. a white button-up and those dark blue wide leg jeans you have?”

“What about those?”

“You’re wearing them tomorrow. No questions asked.”

“Seokmin, it’s the middle of November, I’m gonna freeze to death.”

“You’re gonna wear a heavy jacket on top, you idiot. Besides, it won’t be that cold tomorrow.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Ever heard of weather forecasts?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not the one you want to fuck, let’s be real here.” Seokmin smirks and Wonwoo throws a fried potato at him. 

“I swear to God, if I end up making a fool of myself or catching a cold, you won’t hear from me ever again.” 

“Cool, does that mean I get to adopt Salem after your death?”

“Keep your grimy hands off my cat, bitch.”

“I will, because you’ll be alive and Y/N will be in your arms within the span of….twenty four hours. Maybe less, if you play your cards right.” Seokmin winks.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look scary when you have something specific in mind?”

“You can just admit you like it when I look scary because it makes me even sexier.”

“You’re fucking gross.”

Wonwoo wakes up at 7:30 sharp, as always. But today is different - today is the day he finally confesses to you. Blame Seokmin’s idea, blame Chan’s behavior towards you, blame his own cowardice - whatever the reason is, Wonwoo is dead set on achieving his goal today.

He opens his closet and skims through his clothes until he finds the ones Seokmin specifically told him to wear.

He’s worried he might catch a cold with just a white button down and jeans, but there’s always his trusty fuzzy jacket - the cold never passes through that and it definitely won’t pass now, no matter what he’s wearing underneath.

The thought of wearing this particular outfit to work in order to impress you makes him feel stupid and giddy at the same time, as if he’s the nerdy highschooler in love with the pretty girl of the class. 

“How damn cliché.” He chuckles to himself and takes out the clothes to hang them in front of the closet. He goes to the bathroom, jumping in the shower for a quick refreshment. It only takes him five minutes to wash his hair and body, wrapping a towel around his waist. He takes a quick look at himself in the mirror and nods in satisfaction. 

The gym has definitely paid off, he thinks and grabs the hair dryer to dry his hair. Once he’s done, he chooses to lightly run his fingers through them, not wanting to disrupt the curly form.

He returns to the bedroom to put on his clothes, humming in approval when he sees his reflection in the full body mirror. He spritzes his favorite perfume all over him and wears his horn-rimmed glasses to complete the look and wears his jacket on top to keep himself warm. 

He really doesn’t want to admit it, but Seokmin might be right on the money this time.

He’s about to leave when his eyes fall on the spare helmet he keeps in the corner of his closet and decides to take it with him - in case the plan works out, he wants to keep you safe while you’re riding with him on his bike.

He just hopes you aren’t afraid of motorbikes.

Salem walks in the bedroom and meows at Wonwoo to get his attention.

“Hi buddy. How do I look?”

The cat purrs loudly as he rubs himself on Wonwoo’s jeans.

“Thanks for the approval. I hope Y/N approves too.”

Salem meows again and paws on his dad’s leg.

“I’ll see you later, pal. Hopefully with some pretty company.”

“So it’s official?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. Yoona has completed her rehab, but she has decided to move out of Seoul.” Your boss notifies you.

“I see…” You think and mixed feelings wash over you. You’re sad that Yoona is leaving so soon, but that also means you’ll get to spend even more time with Wonwoo behind the barista counter.

“But on the bright side, we managed to get a new employee!”

“W-What? When did that happen?”

“Just yesterday! I asked them if they could start soon and they will be here tomorrow morning.” Your boss grins widely. “Can I count on you to show them the ropes?”

“Oh, um, yeah, of course!” You form a fake smile.

“Great! You’ll get an extra this month for this, do not worry about that.”

“I appreciate it, Boss.” 

The lady walks away and your shoulders slouch in defeat, your dreams of watching Wonwoo’s forearms operate the coffee machine.

“A penny for your thoughts, wife?” Chan comes up to the counter.

“A penny might be too little for the amount of thoughts I have, Chan.”

“You don’t seem excited today.”

“Boss just told me that Yoona is leaving and we already have a replacement for her.” You frown.

“I know you’re sad you probably won’t see Yoona again, but at least you won’t have to work overtime again!” Chan tries to lift your mood.

“That’s not the only problem, Chan.”

“What is it then- Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Well, I mean…It’s not like you won’t see him ever again.”

“But it’s not the same!” 

“Oh my God, can you just confess already?! I’m tired of this rom-com!” Chan whines.

“You know what?” Your mouth falls open. “I might do it today.”

“Finally! But why is your mouth hanging like that?”

You point towards the door and Wonwoo who walks inside, looking like the male lead of a k-drama.

“Can you please close your mouth? A fly could enter and you could choke.” He snickers and you slap his arm.

“Good morning!” Wonwoo greets the two of you with a bright smile.

“Good morning Wonwoo! You seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Yeah, you could say that. By the way, I bought you some honey cupcakes.” He puts the pastry box on the counter and he walks next to you to wear his apron.

“What?! They told me they had run out today!” Chan is flabbergasted.

“Well, you weren’t lucky enough to catch the fresh batch, Channie.” Wonwoo smirks and the younger man grimaces and almost slams the water glasses on his disk.

“Who are you and what have you done to the Wonwoo I know?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I am him. Just a bit elevated.” He puffs out his chest ever so slightly.

“Does the elevation come with a brand new motorbike?”

“Oh that? I already had it, but it was under repair for a good chunk of time.”

“But now you can ride it again, right?”

“Of course! Otherwise I wouldn’t be here now.”

“It looks really cool by the way.” 

“The motorbike?”

“Everything, actually.”

“Everything?” He tilts his head sideways.

You clear your throat. “By the way, Boss told me we’re getting a new barista tomorrow.” 

“Oh, I see.” He replies with a monotonous voice. “So no more sessions?”

“Yeah, pretty much. But I’m sure you probably miss your camera.”

“It’s not like I wasn’t touching it at all. Besides, working with you is really fun.”

“Not anymore, since it’s the last day today.”

“Well then, we should make the most of it, right?” He looks at you with a swirling mix of warmth and seduction.

“B-Be careful with the cinnamon, you don’t want to overdo it.” You stammer over your words, turning your head away.

“Yes ma’am.” Wonwoo chuckles, not missing the light flush over your cheeks as he resumes his task.

As if your brains are connected to the same thinking bubble, they both repeat the same phrase over and over again.

This is going smoother than cream.

“Is it legal to do this?” Wonwoo asks with uncertainty.

“Relax, we’re not gonna commit crimes. We can just say we stayed behind to clean up! Not that anyone will care that we made two cups of coffee.” You reassure him.

“But the machine isn’t on. How are you going to make coffee without it?”

You flash a warm smile. “This is exactly why I wanted it to be the two of us.”

You search under the counter for a few seconds and you pull out a black box that has been tightly sealed. You open it carefully and take out a coffee pot made of copper, a sealed bag of coffee blend and a mini gas heater.

“What is all this?” Wonwoo’s curiosity is piqued.

“This is something I learned during my vacation in Greece. I will show you how to make traditional Greek coffee.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen and he finds himself walking behind the counter and right next to you.

You open the sealed bag and the rich aroma quickly spreads in the air, satisfied hums echoing in the silent cafe.

“You get it now, don’t you?”

“It smells so good.”

“Wait until you actually taste it.” You giggle. 

“Judging from the tools, it must be hard to make it.”

“You’re not entirely wrong.” You fill the coffee pot with cold water. “It requires a lot of technique and “meraki”, as the locals usually call it.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s the love and passion poured in the coffee brewing process. Even if it’s served as a product to a customer, it’s always created with fine motions and the hope of conveying said effort to the customer through a cup of Greek coffee.”

“This sounds more like a confession of love to me.” Wonwoo comments and you are happy the lighting is dim enough to hide the creeping blush on your cheeks.

“Well, that’s one way to put it.” You set the coffee pot on the table and take out two small porcelain cups from the box.

“That’s really pretty.”

“Thanks. I got them as a souvenir from a local shop, along with the briki.”

“The what?”

“That’s the greek word for the coffee pot! They use this specific one because it’s the best at storing the heat in its walls and allowing the coffee to roast slowly.”

“I stand corrected. This is a ritual of love, not just a confession.” He chuckles at your excitement.

That’s why I’m doing it, you four-eyed hot bastard! You mentally scream but keep your smiley facade on.

“Why did you get only two of these?” He keeps asking you questions.

“The old lady at the shop had made only two of those.” You explain. “But she did think I was buying it for my boyfriend and myself.” You end your sentence with an awkward laugh.

“I think that’s adorable, Y/N.” He rests his hand on his palm, almost 

“It would be, if I had a real boyfriend.”

“Well, you can always share a cup with your work husband.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Are you jealous, Wonwoo?”

“Me? No, not at all.” He brushes it off. “I just mentioned Chan because you’re really close to him.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” You shrug.

A beat of awkward silence passes and Wonwoo attempts to shift the mood to his favor.

“Can you guide me? Making the coffee, I mean.” He almost stutters.

“O-Oh, of course I can!” You slide behind him and watch him tighten his apron around his slender waist. Since when did he have such a slender waist?!

He picks up a teaspoon and puts four spoonfuls in the water, turning on the heat.

“The heat should be medium to low. Stir it only at the beginning and then let it heat through.”

He gives the coffee a few stirs to evenly spread the blend in the water, until it starts heating up.

“Be careful not to stir the coffee all the time, while it is roasting. Give a little bit more love and attention to create the right amount of kaimaki.” You give him gentle directions and he follows them to the last detail.

“What is kaimaki?” 

“It’s the creamy foam that forms on top of the coffee after brewing it.”

“It’s dark brown because of the blend?”

“Exactly. You’re a fast learner, aren’t you?” You give him a sly smile.

“I have a great teacher.” He reciprocates the smile and your heart skips a bit for the umpteenth time today.

Watching him brew such a difficult type of coffee with his sleeves rolled up and his deft hands carefully looking at the kaimaki makes the butterflies in your stomach dance like a hurricane.

Everything feels so intimate - from the cafe itself to the set of porcelain cups you bought as a memento from Greece, the words of the old lady who thought you bought them for a lover echoing in your head once again.

“I am turning the gas off now.” Wonwoo announces and you nod affirmatively. He does as he said and picks up the briki, but he accidentally touches the side of it and almost burns his hand.

“Fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You gasp and immediately grasp his hands, knocking down the coffee and spilling it over the counter. “Are your hands okay?!”

“I’m okay, but-”

“Oh shit.” You curse and grab a bunch of paper towels to wipe the spilled coffee before it seeps into the wood.

He notices the coffee reaching up to the base of the cups and he picks them up, putting them in the sink to wash them. He washes and dries them thoroughly, followed by the copper coffee pot.

Hurried movements and a curse of strings are heard through the glass wall, the eyes of multiple cats staring at the two of you trying to clean up the mess you made.

After a few minutes, the counter looks as good as new, but both of you look frustrated and even more tired than before.

“Well, this was an ordeal.” You let out a huff as you throw the wasted paper towels in the bin and hang your apron next to the others.

“Y/N, I am really sorry.” Wonwoo sulks, not daring to look you in the eyes.

“Wonu, it’s okay! It was just an accident, accidents happen all the time here.” You try to make him feel better.

“But you were looking forward to this-”

“Wonwoo.” You stop him from completing his sentence. “It’s okay. I am not mad at you.” You gingerly hold his face with your hands, the rate of your heart reaching Mach speed because of the heat on his skin.

You realize you’re too close for comfort and retract your hands, scared you might have overstepped his boundaries. 

“Don’t.”

Wonwoo holds your wrists with his hands and gently places them on his chest. He can feel your fingertips almost trembling, the tension skyrocketing. 

“Wonu, I don’t understand-”

He gently holds the side of your neck and kisses you with the desire he was holding for the past two months. He lets go of his uncertainty and embraces his feelings for you, expressing them through this kiss.

It feels like you’re in a fever dream, every fiber of your existence is standing on the edge of inferno and you don’t want it to stop. Yet his mouth feels like an oasis - and you won’t let anything separate you from it.

You let out a whine when Wonwoo breaks the kiss, but you shudder when he rips his glasses off his face and lifts you up to put you on top of the counter.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to feel your touch on me, Y/N.” He rasps. “You’ve been plaguing my thoughts ever since I met you and I just couldn’t-”

You cut him off by pulling the collar of his shirt and smash your lips on him again, seizing control this time. You wrap your legs around his waist and jerk his body forward, colliding with your chest.

Your hands are deeply rooted in his permed locks, raking your nails on his scalp. He’s no better than you, his palms glued to your thighs.

“I’ve been feeling the exact same way, Wonu.” You moan against his mouth.

“God, please don’t stop calling me that.” 

“I had no intention of stopping, Wonu.”

He breaks the kiss again and pushes you on your back, planting his hands on each side of your head. 

“Please tell me you want this.” He begs you. “I want, need to touch you, take care of you, fucking worship you.” 

“Do it. Please do it, Wonu, I need you so bad.” 

He lets out a shaky breath and unbuttons the first three buttons of his shirt and bunches up your sweater to reveal the hem of your jeans and unbutton it with the same dexterity he uses his camera. He pulls them down and lets the fabric pool in front of his feet, his hands caressing your naked legs.

“Pretty.” He fiddles with the lacey details of your panties.

“Me or my underwear?” 

“Both.” 

“Smooth. But as much as I’d love you to sweet talk, I think you should do other things with your mouth.”

“Your wish is my command, sunshine.” 

Wonwoo puts your legs over his shoulders and tenderly traces his lips on your inner thighs, giving you a glance before sliding your panties to the side.

He gives your clit a quick peck and glides his tongue through your folds, all the way down to your entrance. And repeats the motion, again and again, speeding up with each drag of his wet muscle.

You drag your nails on the mahogany counter and bite your bottom lip to suppress your moans, but his mouth is being so kind and loving to your pussy that it makes you want to scream his name until the windows crash in tiny pieces from the volume of your voice.

He stops to take a breather, a glossy film coating his lips. “Best fucking pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

“Never thought the shy photographer slash barista would be cursing after eating pussy like a God.” You laugh breathlessly.

“I can do much more, if you let me.” He suggests with a gaze full of desire, lips parted again and ready to engulf your clit again.

“I will, but not here.” You put your hand in his hair to stop him. “I don’t want to risk being seen by bypassing people.”

“I don’t know about people, but there are a bunch of cats staring from the glass wall.” Wonwoo chuckles as he watches you gasp when you turn your head towards the window and you see thirteen pairs of glowing cat eyes staring at the two of you.

“I love them but they are fucking scaring me right now, can we please get out of here?” You ask him.

“My place or yours?” Wonwoo picks up your jeans and gives them to you to put them on.

“Mine is a twenty-minute ride with the bus from here.” You say.

“My place it is, then.” Wonwoo grins as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “Hope you aren’t scared of motorbikes.”

“Would you laugh if I said I’ve been thinking of being your backpack princess?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I brought an extra helmet just in case you wanted to be my backpack princess?”

“Who are you and what have you done to the cute and super shy Wonwoo?” You shoot him a playful glare.

“He’s still here. He just decided to act according to his desires and feelings.”

“I would like you to pass him my earnest thanks.”

“He accepts them with pleasure. Ready to go?” He offers you his hand.

“Yes sir.” You giggle and button your jeans, lacing your hand with his, as he guides you out of the cafe.

You make sure you turn off the lights and lock the doors before Wonwoo hands you over the extra helmet, checking up on whether you fastened it good enough. As soon as you settle on the bike behind him, he turns on the engine and grabs your arms, putting them around his waist, as if he’s telling you to hold on tight. You let out a squeal when he speeds away from the cafe, but the helmet around your head mutes your voice. Even though it’s your first time riding on a bike, you’re not scared at all. If anything, you find it very fun and kind of liberating.

Perhaps it’s the fact that Wonwoo reciprocated your feelings after two months of mutual pining.

You don’t even realize how fast the time passes when Wonwoo taps your hands to let go of him and get off the bike.

“W-We’re here already?” You ask dumbfounded as you take off the helmet.

“Baby, I wasn’t even speeding up.” He chuckles as he turns off the engine of the bike, taking off his own helmet. “But it’s for the better, I suppose.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it means you’re looking forward to what will happen within that house.” He smirks in your face and you grab his hand, pulling him towards the entrance.

“You’re so eager.” He’s trying to fish out his keys from his bag.

“I wonder whose fault is that.” You tease him.

“I intend to make it up to you, sweetheart.” He reassures you and finds the keys after a bit of searching, sliding them in the keyhole to unlock the door.

As soon as both of you are inside his house, you pin him on the door and kiss him hungrily, your hands sliding off your coat first and his jacket second, aiming for his buttoned shirt next.

“Bedroom, please.” Wonwoo breaks the kiss and you nod in agreement. He lifts you up in his arms, his arms under your thighs keeping you safe. 

You’re certain he’s gonna pin you down on the bed, but you’re proven wrong when he pins you on the nearest bedroom wall, grinding his clothed bulge right on your crotch.

“Didn’t peg you for the needy type.” You grip his shoulders to hold onto him tighter.

“How can I not be needy when I have the girl of my dreams right where I want her?” He groans and lets down your legs, hands flying to the button of your jeans. “Can I?”

“Fuck yes, please throw them away if you can.” You breathe heavily.

He eagerly unbuttons your jeans and drags them down along with your panties, throwing them somewhere in the room. He then unbuttons his own jeans, dropping them down to his ankles with his boxers and kicking them away. He’s just one thrust away from entering you, but his mind goes blank.

“Wonwoo? What’s wrong?”

“I- Fuck, I don’t have any condoms.” He curses under his breath.

“It’s okay. I am clean and on the pill, you can go raw.” You reassure him.

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too! Are you clean?” 

“Yeah, I got tested two weeks ago and haven’t slept with someone for God knows how long.” He blurts out, cheeks flushed a cute pink.

“You’re so cute.” You stifle a laugh.

“You and your pussy are cuter than me, darling.” He laughs and hooks his forearms under your thighs to pry them open and keep them locked closed to your chest. The wall is cold against your back, but the rest of your body feels on fire.

You let out a whiny moan when Wonwoo starts by pushing the tip of his cock, taking his time to ease himself inside you and not hurt you. When he finally manages to fit his shaft in your hole, he throws his head back and his mouth falls open, deep moans vibrating from his chest.

“You’re- Oh god, Wonwoo, it feels so full.” You dig your nails in his shoulder blades, bunching up the dress shirt.

“Fuuuuck, I know.” He groans and pulls his hips away until only his tip is inside you, pushing back with a fluid thrust. A gasp escapes your lips when the thrust makes your body jerk up against the wall.

“Ah- Please do that again.” You beg, giving him your best pleading eyes.

“Shit, with pleasure.” He licks his bottom lip and thrusts inside you the same way, his eyes glued on your face to study your expressions.

He gets the green light when you nod in agreement and repeats the same thrusting pattern, full-bodied yet slow thrusts that rub your molten walls deliciously.

None of you are able to form coherent sentences, you only express yourselves through wanton moans. You feel your skin getting sticky with sweat and your orgasm starting to build up dangerously close to the climax.

“Are you close, sunshine?” He asks you between pants and you nod furiously.

“Hold on tight.” He instructs you and you claw on him like a rescued cat as he lifts you from the wall and walks over to the bed, gently placing you on your back on the mattress. 

“W-Wonu, please, I need to cum!” You hiccup and try to wrap your legs around his waist.

“I know, baby, I know.” He puts one knee on the mattress and angles your hips upwards to hit it deeper. He bends his torso down to touch your chest, his lips hovering over yours as his breath mingles with yours.

“Wanna cum together, sunshine?”

“Yes, yes, please!” 

“Where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside, fuck, do it inside!”

Wonwoo gasps loudly and loses his balance, crumbling on you at the same time his orgasm crashes upon him. His back shudders while his cock paints your walls white and your lips are busy kissing and biting his neck to muffle your own orgasmic noises. Your walls clench around his cock and you milk him dry until he has nothing else to give, breathing against his neck rapidly.

Both of you take some time and remain still, your breaths slowly regaining their normal rhythms. You can feel your body complaining, legs growing limp and your torso being crushed by Wonwoo’s weight.

“Wonu, you’re heavy…”

“Fuck, sorry.” He gently lifts himself off you and his cock slips out of your pussy, the mixture of your cum and his nearly spilling on the sheets. He’s fast enough to catch it with his fingers and push it back inside you, enjoying the way you shudder for him/

“Wonu!”

“I couldn’t help it, sunshine. Not when you look so pretty.” He sucks his fingers clean. “And taste so damn good.”

“Can you just…clean me up?”

“You didn’t even have to tell me.” 

He picks you up in bridal style and carries you to the bathroom, letting you sit on the edge of the tub as he lets the water from the tap run warm.

“Do you mind if I fall asleep in the process?” You mumble tiredly.

“Not at all, sweetheart. I’ll take care of everything, you don’t have to worry.” He presses a kiss on your temple.

“Thank you, Wonu.”

You end up falling asleep halfway through the bath, but Wonwoo doesn’t mind. The lovesick grin on his face doesn’t falter until he’s done drying your hair and putting you in a pair of clean comfy clothes - his clothes.

As soon as you’re under the bedsheets, you cling onto him in your sleep, chest rising and falling peacefully in his arms.

Wonwoo can’t believe this is real, even if he can touch your face and hug you closer to his body. 

There is one thing coursing through his mind before drifting off to sleep - Seokmin was right after all.

Your deep slumber is disturbed by the ringtone of your phone and you grumble in your sleep to find the strength and get up to search for your phone. You nearly fall down on your knees when you try to stand up, grabbing the edge of the bed at the last minute to stabilize yourself.

“Nngh……Baby? What are you doing?” Wonwoo asks with a scratchy voice, in a similar state as you.

“Someone is calling me and I don’t know where the hell my phone is!” You curse out loud as you keep searching under the pile of clothes.

Your phone stops ringing and you plop down on the floor dramatically. 

“Y/N, it was just a phone call.” Wonwoo tries to reassure you as he gets out of bed.

“But what if it was something important?”

“Then whoever it was, they will probably call again.”

Suddenly, it hits you.

“Wonwoo, what time is it?” You ask him with fear in your eyes.

“I don’t know, let me check real quick.” He walks back to his nightstand and opens the screen of his phone, a loud ‘fuck’ echoing from his mouth.

“Wonwoo?”

“I don’t want you to panic, but it’s 10AM.” He deadpans.

“Fuck, I knew it! We’re fucking late to work!” You spring up on your feet and pick up your clothes, making a beeline for the bathroom.

You splash water over your face and almost squeal when you notice the vibrant purple marks on your neck and collarbones, mortified at the thought of someone seeing them.

“Baby, are you good there?” Wonwoo yells from the bedroom.

“No! I need a fucking turtleneck!” You yell back and stomp your way back to the bedroom.

“Okay but why?” He peeks his head from the closet and takes a better look at your torso. “Yeah, forget I asked.” He purses his lips and picks a cream colored turtleneck, giving it to you.

“God, I love you so much.” You breathe a sigh of relief and immediately put it on, running back to the bathroom. The scent of cedar and peaches gives you a hard time to focus on making your hair look presentable, but you resist the urge to duck your nose under the soft fabric.

Wonwoo does a double take on himself and decides to go with a black turtleneck, his eyes shying away from the marks you left on him last night. However, part of him feels very smug about them, knowing he’s gonna be walking in the cafe with your marks of claim all over his body.

“Come on, stop dwindling, we’re gonna be even more late!” You appear in front of him again and pull on his sleeve repeatedly.

“Oh my God, stop pulling me!” He laughs at your desperation and follows you to the living room, picking up his coat from yesterday.

About half an hour after riding on Wonwoo’s motorbike and some annoying traffic, you both make it safely into the cafe. You’re welcomed by a very frustrated Chan and the new barista intern, struggling with the coffee machine.

“And here I thought you actually ditched work today.” He gives you a smile full of irony.

“I’m really sorry, Chan, I slept through my alarm clock. I swear it wasn’t on purpose!” You defend yourself with a lie while fastening your apron to get to work.

“Whatever you say.” He sighs. “Just…get to work, I’m so fucking done with this monstrosity.”

You quickly greet the new intern with a warm smile and turn your back on the two men to focus on the training at hand.

Wonwoo begins to put his camera together, checking his equipment. He can feel Chan’s scrutinizing gaze on him.

“For how long are you going to keep burning holes in my back?” The older man asks.

“Until you admit that you spent the night with Y/N.” Chan crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Wonwoo puts his camera down and straightens his back, now towering over the guy.

“Yeah, I did. Want me to tell you how exactly we spent our night?” 

“No need, I was able to put two and two together when I came here and cleaned up the entire place.” Chan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“My patience ran thin and so did hers, I guess you already know how things went down.” Wonwoo smirks.

“Well it was about fucking time, dude.” Chan pats Wonwoo’s shoulder. “You were blueballing the poor girl for two months now and I was starting to feel that way as well.” 

Chan goes to the outer space of the cafe, leaving Wonwoo utterly stunned. The younger man gets a few orders from the early customers and makes a beeline for the window seats of the cats, bypassing the table Joshua is sitting on.

“I am so sorry, darlings. I hope none of you were traumatized from whatever vulgarities you witnessed last night.” He pets them one by one, cooing at them as if they were his own kids.

“Why are you trying to console the cats?” The older man asks.

“If I were to tell you, you’d need consolation as well.” 

“Do I smell work gossip?”

“More like work porn.”

Joshua puts his hand over his mouth like a gossip girl, his eyes shining like those of an imp.

“Don’t tell me-”

“Yeah, they did.”

“Damn, I gotta give it to your intuition.”

“How about giving me a fucking break already?!” Chan whispers in frustration.

“What, you saw cum on the floor or something?” Joshua jokes, but the waiter’s expression is stone-cold.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Fucking try me, Shua.”

He turns his head around and watches you and Wonwoo giggling together, his face turning back to his friend.

“At least your work wife is happy now.”

Chan smiles gently as he leans against the wall.

“That she definitely is.”

[honeydjarin]

BRING ME THE SUN

OPLA SANJI X READER

You often find yourself in the galley, seeking the company of your favorite chef. Even when your half asleep, Sanji can’t bring himself to turn you away.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 1,500

a/n: how often can I write about sleeping? It’s what I long for most of all. I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with opla!sanji, but now I can't stop thinking about him!

PART II: (I’LL GIVE YOU THE MOON)

Your feet carry you over salt-soaked wood, up creaking stairs bordered by sun-warmed railings, before settling in front of the closed door to the galley. You hesitate for only a moment. The evening sun glares off the porthole window and prevents you from peeking into the room beyond, but you know the man you seek is in there. Sanji is almost always in the kitchen now that he has the freedom to experiment with new recipes as he pleases. 

When you first enter the galley, it’s with the intention of keeping the Going Merry’s chef company. Sanji’s easy going nature is addicting. Friendly and flirtatious conversations with him always leave you glowing golden—brighter than the sun. His comfort as he works in the kitchen, his joy for what he does, is contagious. Oftentimes, you find yourself at the door to the galley, having had no plan to walk there. You seek out his company whenever you’re given the chance, consciously or not. 

You hadn’t meant to develop such a large crush on the chef. He wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a crewmate. A friend. You had been wary of the flirt when he joined the Straw Hats. His first impression left you with his self confidence and charm but no glimpse of his care for friends and strangers alike. You never could have expected how easily the newest member would wiggle his way into your heart. 

You take a breath, then step into the room hidden behind the door. 

Sanji is exactly where you expect him to be, flitting around the kitchen as he begins preparations for dinner. When he hears the door open, he turns your way, a smile pulling at his lips as soon as he sees it’s you.

“Hello, darling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but he slows, keeping his gaze on you. “Are you hungry?”  

“Not yet. I just wanted to keep you company,” you say, making your way farther into the kitchen. A part of you can’t help but think Sanji must get lonely in the galley after having spent so much time surrounded by others at the Baratie, but he never complains. 

The other part of you worries that Sanji actually prefers the time alone, and that your presence in the kitchen is unwelcomed. The Going Merry isn’t a particularly large ship, and finding a moment to be alone can be difficult. 

“Then today I am a lucky man,” he replies. His smile never falters, eyes gleaming as though he truly does feel lucky to spend time with you. It’s enough to dispel any lingering worries, at least for the time being. 

You warm beneath the weight of his gaze, heartbeat fluttering from the sudden attention. For a moment you forget yourself, too lost in the twin seas trapped in Sanji’s eyes. Your own lips pull into a matching smile and you feel like you’re glowing, just like you always do when he gives you his attention. Sanji’s gaze seems to soften, as if, somehow, he can see the light burning in your chest. 

If you don’t move now, you’ll sink too deeply into this feeling, you’ll get too wrapped up in your not so little crush. 

You take a step forward, then another. Your feet carry you to one of the seats at the counter, keeping the island between you. Sanji’s gaze still washes over you, but at least this way, no matter how tempting it may be, you won’t find yourself reaching out to him. You won’t tangle your fingers between his own, won’t run your spare hand through his hair or cradle the soft curve of his cheek, won’t lean in to kiss his still grinning lips. 

The evening sun filters through the galley windows, gleaming off cookware and pooling on the countertops. Your seat is strategically situated in the center of one of those pools, the hazy light casting a warm beam across your skin. You sink into its embrace, growing more relaxed with each slow breath you take. The warmth is like a hug, and you can’t help but to settle into it. 

You fold your arms on the countertop and rest your chin on them, easing into a comfortable position. You could fall asleep like this. 

Oftentimes, you offer to help Sanji cook, not wanting to be in the galley without at least being useful, but today you seem to be slipping—too relaxed, too tired, content just to watch the chef in his element. You’re only half aware of what he is doing as he works. 

“Here,” Sanji says, setting a glass down in front of you. “Try this.”

Small bubbles rise from the liquid inside, popping as they reach the surface. When you take a sip, it’s cool and saccharine, flavors mixing to create the perfect balance.  

“Oh! It’s good,” you praise before taking another sip. You have to set the glass down, wanting to savor the drink Sanji made just for you. “Everything you make is good.” 

“You’re too sweet to me, darling.” 

His words make you smile, but you keep your attention on the glass in front of you, too afraid that if you look at him he will see in your eyes just how deep your affections lie.

Beads of condensation have already formed on the outside of the glass, making the fizzy liquid inside look almost cloudy. You trail your finger through the moisture on the smooth surface, the cool liquid dripping down your fingertip leaving a clear path behind your touch, a curve into a point. Reflect and repeat. When you pull your hand away, a little heart remains. 

The blonde chef leaves you feeling like a lovesick fool—as sticky sweet as the drink he made you. 

This moment is too easy, too safe. You hardly notice the way your eyelids weigh heavy, each blink lasting longer than the one before it. The sounds of chopping vegetables and boiling water begin to fade, barely noticeable as sleep creeps ever closer.  

“As flattered as I am that you want to keep me company even when you’re so tired, I must insist that you find a more comfortable place to nap. I’ve heard that pain is beauty, but beauty sleep should never cause someone as sweet as you to wake up in pain.” 

If you weren’t already so close to sleep, Sanji’s words might have sent your heart racing. He thinks you’re sweet too. 

“I’ll be fine, Sanji. It’s just a little cat nap,” you offer, only half aware of what you’re saying.  

You don’t hear if he responds. 

—♡—

It’s a chill seeping into your skin that starts to wake you up. The ocean air isn’t really that cold, but the absence of the sun on your skin creates a change in temperature stark enough to make you sigh in disappointment. What once felt like a soft embrace now feels like a missing piece. 

There’s the sound of something being whisked, or stirred, the only evidence you have that you aren’t alone in the galley.  

You stretch your arms out to your sides, groaning slightly at the stiffness in your shoulders. Sanji was right, your body does hurt. You keep your eyes closed as you stretch, desperately clinging to those last moments of sleep as you work out the aches in your muscles.  

“Hmm. It’s cold now,” you mumble. The stirring sound stops. 

The creeping sense of cold doesn’t have long to settle over you. Before you can continue to complain about the movement of the sun, something heavy and warm is draped over your shoulders. The heat of your skin sinks into the fabric before it is reflected back at you, just like the sun. It feels like a blanket. At the very least, it offers the comfort of one. 

You pull the fabric closer around you, feel the curl of a collar around your neck and the holes for sleeves catch on your shoulders—definitely not a blanket. The fabric of Sanji’s jacket is smooth and well made, the quality much better than most of the crew’s clothing.  

What is this made of? You want to ask. Boyfriend material? 

But where flirtation spills naturally from Sanji’s lips, it only ever sounds awkward and stilted from yours. You leave the words unsaid, choosing instead to offer a simple “thank you.” 

“You seemed quite content. It would be a shame for you to grow cold simply because the sun doesn’t understand how much you appreciate it.” 

Finally, you open your eyes. 

Sanji leans on the counter beside you, offering you a soft smile. It’s subdued, as if he himself isn’t even aware he’s doing it. He looks good like this—he always looks good. He looks at ease right now, like he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Or with anyone else.   

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but for just a little while, you can almost let yourself believe that he feels the same way about you. Why else would he look at you like that, with such fondness?  

“So you decided to keep me warm instead?” you prod. 

“Of course,” he responds without hesitation. “I can’t bring you the sun, but I can offer you this.”  

Of course. He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. As if he couldn’t ever bring himself to consider an alternative. 

You feel warm again, glowing. 

a/n: I’m planning on writing a second part to this. Hopefully it won’t take too long ^_^

[pacifistcowboy]

h i was gonna reblog this without any added commentary ‘cus i thought i didn’t have any but then my tags went a lil nuts fhfjfjfjfj man, this kid. i love him sm

first thing you need to know about silver is that he is so full of love. he has to be.

he loves his future. he loves the people in it. he loves the things they built. he loves the world they made. he loves his future, but it isn't home to him. it doesn't feel like home and it never will

he loves the present. he loves his friends. he loves the connections they've made. he loves the world that grows lush and green. he loves the present because that's where his family is, but he can never stay there.

he is so full of love and it keeps him strong. it keeps him coming back from every apocalypse with a heart full of hope and determination. he is full of love and it keeps him from crumbling under the pressure of often being the one thing preventing the world from falling apart

[silverflqmes]

agszc and the WAY THEY SAY I LOVE YOU CAUSE I'M STILL SCREAMING OVER CLOUD'S DATING HCS YOU MADE SNSKDJKD

໒⦂ ( 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ) 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

notes. you might be confused with the use of parenthesis but it’s exactly what you think.. not all of them ACTUALLY say those words.. read and see🫡

genre. fluff + angst ( sephiroth’s )

for @melukonova <3

ft. sephiroth, cloud strife, zack fair, genesis rhapsodos, angeal hewley

disclaimer. ok, poetry IS NOT my strong suit, from time to time i experiment with it but i am not the best at it so keep criticism tame please..

gender neutral! reader.

➫ 𝓢𝗘𝗣𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗛 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ sephiroth’s confession would be something that requires patience. he doesn’t have much experience with love, as he wasn’t exposed to it much throughout his life.

⌗ it doesn’t mean he’s incapable of feeling it, rather, it’s a matter of him truly realizing those feelings he has and how deep they run. now the way those words come out.. would likely be influenced by heightened emotions.

a beat of silence passed before the the silver haired hero closed the door, turning to face you with an expression you weren’t certain his features were even capable of making. “what were you thinking??”

he was distressed, brows knitted together as you watched his chest rise and fall unevenly, each breath more irregular than the last. you assumed it was anxiety — something you’d never associated with sephiroth.. until now, that was. “i was doing my job, an injury or few is unavoidable at times, you know that.” came your mumble, feeling your own brows furrow.

of course he knew that, the top hero knew that better than anyone.. but this. “there are other ways to get things done, what you did today was completely reckless — as though you had no care whatsoever for your life.” he argued, moonlight bangs swishing from right to left when his head shook. “you could have died!”

now it was your turn to get frustrated as you stood up from your place despite your aching muscles, walking up to his broad frame. “and that’s suddenly an issue now? our line of work demands for us to risk our lives everyday no matter the mission! we both knew this going into our relationship, so why are you suddenly so worked up over this??” you matched his tone, not fond of the approach he’d taken in addressing you.

“because i nearly lost you!” he shouted, overcome with emotions so powerful, he couldn’t even stop the onyx, gloved hands that flew to your shoulders, clinging desperately to something.. something even he didn’t know of.

his breath stuttered as he lowered his head, trembling in his place. “i can’t.. i-i can’t have you leave me, too…” the first class SOLDIER whispered in a voice so broken, so defeated, you had to remind yourself that behind this towering, imposing powerhouse.. was a human being, with feelings of his own, no matter how well he hid them. a human that knew loss, and an unwelcomed amount of it.. and feared more of it.

unsure of what to do, you pulled him down into a hug, feeling your anger fade into nothingness as you allowed your eyes to close. “i won’t, not ever.”

➫ 𝓒𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗗 𝓢𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗙𝗘 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ he says get help but he’s the one that needs help.. bro just, he can’t say it — he’s too embarrassed and he just doesn’t rlly know how to bring it across properly..

⌗ in the end, he opts for a more subtle method that aerith had once told him about. it required minimal speech on his end, and called for actions to take the reigns — perfectly up his alley.. as long as you got the memo.

“cloud?” you called out in surprise, turning to find a familiar spiky haired blond with an ivory colored flower in between his gloved fingers.

his lightly tanned cheeks were dusted with a tint of pink, seemingly reddening as he held out his hand, averting his gaze. “you said you wanted me to bring you something back from my delivery in sector five.. figured i’d bring something you don’t find everyday here.”

your knowledge of flowers was minimal, as midgar.. wasn’t exactly filled with them. you only rarely saw them from a distance, and on the occasions that you had, normally they were too pricey to purchase.

somehow, however, the owner of strife delivery services seemed to have gotten his hands on one singular flower. when you’d ask for a small souvenir from his travels, it had been a joke, simply you joshing like you normally had with him.. though it appeared this time, that he had taken it seriously.

you cleared your throat, letting out a sheepish laugh. “you didn’t have to do that, but thank you — i’ve.. never received a flower before, much less held one..” you confessed in a soft tone, taking the bloom from his grasp as you brought it close to your face.

even without leaning in to take in its scent, the sweetness greeted your senses as a smile etched itself onto your lips. “aah~ it smells wonderful, what kind of flower is it??”

he rubbed his neck at the question, feeling himself grow more nervous by the second. “it’s um.. it’s called gardenia. aerith’s mom insisted i took one back with me, since they were the newest edition to her garden.. said something about it having a deeper meaning, too.” cloud spoke up, finally lifting his mako-azure eyes to meet yours.

you lowered the flower in your hands, tilting your head. “deeper meaning? i didn’t think flowers were so complex.” you snickered into your free hand before grinning brightly at him. “but, go on. i’m curious!”

the tips of his ears seemed to burn with red as his lips parted before he turned his back to you, folding his arms. “o-on second thought, i forgot..”

“WHAT?? no way, it must be good if you won’t say! come on cloud!” you urged him, moving in front of him to see his face, but all you caught was the faintest smile as he continued to turn away. so cryptic!

➫ 𝓩𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝓕𝗔𝗜𝗥 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ zack uh- as we can tell, he isn’t exactly the ‘think before you speak’ kinda guy — whatever comes out, comes out.. with no regard to how blunt or sudden it might end up sounding.

⌗ now how would that apply to a confession? well, i think he would just say it without even thinking of the impact behind his words. it would just come out naturally, casually.. and you would end up staring like- did he fr just say that??

a sigh left your lips as you turned the page of the newest issue you’d picked up of shinra’s very own magazine, because what didn’t the prestigious electric company have to their name?

meanwhile zack was busying himself with yet another set of squats, clearly antsy. missions had been quiet as of late, mundane even. at the moment, you were both occupying the second class floor, waiting for orders.. but nothing came.

a groan left the nicknamed puppy’s lips as he halted his movements before draping finally himself onto the spot on the couch you hadn’t occupied. “man i bet the firsts are out kicking ass! they really don’t have anything for us to do here??”

you licked your thumb to flip to the next spread, humming. “unless you feel like getting involved with professor hojo’s questionable ass tasks, i’d rather sit here in boredom.” you confessed, missing the grimace on his face since your eyes remained on the passage you had been reading.

“i guess you have a point.. but still.” he pouted, leaning into your face as a means of getting your attention. “can’t we go ask lazard?? he’s gotta have something by now for us, right?!”

a laugh seemed to leave your lips at his complaints as you lifted your eyes at last to meet his zircon ones, a smile stretching across your lips. “and, what? have him tell us no for the fifth time in the last two hours?”

his appendages seemed to part in protest before they jutted out once more. “w-well! for all we know a mission could have popped up on that computer of his right now! with angeal and them gone, they’re bound to ask us! i’m sure of it!” the second class SOLDIER insisted, clenching his fists in determination. “come on, y/n! it beats reading whatever propaganda you’re reading!”

it was partly true, shinra’s magazine went on and on about sephiroth’s feats if it wasn’t already in the daily paper or news. and one look at those puppy eyes had you crumbling. damn him for that effortlessly adorable face..

“fine, we’ll ask one last time.. but if he says no, you owe me a drink from the vending machine since i paid last time!” you huffed out, tossing your copy back on the the coffee table as you stood up with your hands on your hips.

as though sparkles had appeared in his eyes, zack hopped to his feet before engulfing you in a tight hug. “for real?? you’re the best, y/n!! i love you! i love you! i love you!!”

➫ 𝓖𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦 𝓡𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗦𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗦 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ah, the romantic and the one that does too much because everyone else ain’t doing enough ( his words ) — genesis. you can expect a very enigmatic brain scratching confession..

⌗ or in other words, the cheesiest kind of confession that involves poetry, some form of incorporation with loveless, and just some frivolous display of his affections for you in case you don’t pick up on the hints..

“y/n, my dear! won’t you hang back awhile? our work is done for today.. perhaps you’ll indulge me in a piece i worked on, hm?” the redhead spoke up, causing you to pause in your tracks as you blinked over at him.

a piece? “you mean.. poetry?” you inquired for certainty, surprised that he had the spare time to be writing something. “i’m not the best at deciphering metaphors and whatnot.. but i’d be willing to hear what you have.” you smiled, eager to see what he had been working on in his free time.

“not to worry!” he waved you off, pulling out a small notebook from his long coat. “even the foolish and emotionally unintelligent, like our beloved sephiroth could understand!” genesis laughed out, fearless of his friend — or in his eyes, rival — as usual.

you let out a nervous chuckle as you pulled up a chair to hear what he’d prepared, praying that your silver haired friend did not hear.. not that he would care, anyway. just genesis being genesis.. “well um, i’ll do my best to somewhat comprehend what you wrote.” you offered, anyway, placing your hands on your lap as a means of resting them.

the male dressed in crimson took it as a sign to commence, lifting his fist up to clear his throat before holding up his poem. “in a bed of asters, the tears of the goddess.. blossoms a favored one amidst a world or filth and endless disasters — a beauty that wears star formed petals for a bodice..and adorns droplet shaped blades of which its creator once wept.” genesis paused, trailing a finger down to the next line. “one day, a new flower would emerge — tall, scarlet, and proud.. tenderly well kept, and yet.. as sorrowed as a rain cloud.”

you almost wanted to question why, curiosity overtaking you despite the urge to giggle at a few.. choice of words he made. how couldn’t you when it was so reminiscent of the usual reciting he did of his most favorite work of literature.

compelled by your zealousness, you fed into your inquisitiveness. “why was it sorrowed?”

a soft chuckle tumbled past his lips at the awe in your voice as he closed the book with a low hum. “for it was loveless, without its starry accomplice.. that bloomed on a path far away enough to diverge.” he finished gently before sliding a hand to your cheek. “nevertheless, that is but fiction.. as our paths will remain entwined, and my heart shall not bleed with my beloved star around.”

➫ 𝓐𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝓗𝗘𝗪𝗟𝗘𝗬 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ah, yes, the confession of his love.. yet another unspoken way of proclaiming his feelings for you, although i believe his method may just be a little more meaningful.. but just a little.

⌗ however, what would call for the confession exactly, and the realization of his feelings? personally, i believe it’d have either been something in the heat of the moment — in other words, you being in danger, or perhaps.. an inquiry, in regards to the buster sword glued to his back.

“earlier..” your began, eyeing your lover with a curious gaze. “that was the first i’d ever seen you draw the buster sword.. for the longest time, i convinced myself it was decorative, or something.. but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

the rag in angeal’s hand came to a pause at the question, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “i remember zack asking me that several times before and i still haven’t presented him with a proper answer.” he mused, eyes softening as he gazed upon his weapon. “growing up, my family was not one for riches. we had enough to get by, thankfully, but making money was hard work on my parents — specifically my father.”

a breeze passed through the few strands of hair that frames his face as he gazed upon the sky. “still, he had wanted to gift me something for passing the SOLDIER exam, and had this forged for me.” he smiled gently, closing his eyes. “it took him a very long time to recover financially for his debts in having this buster made, so long that it cost him his very life in the end..” the first class SOLDIER spoke up, allowing his eyes to lower back down to the blade in his hands. “and so, i do my best to avoid bringing any wear, tear or rust upon it.. as it represents not only my dreams and honor, but the efforts and sacrifice for its creation.” he finished steadily, finally meeting your stare. “but for you, i would draw it without a second thought.”

your boyfriend was already impressive to begin with- the most humble and noble person you had come to know.. but this? it had left you in complete awe to know how sentimental he truly was, despite his stoic demeanor. and for him to have used his beloved weapon to shield you from harm — what did that mean? that he.. held you in higher regard than it..?

“you.. you would do that for me?” your inquiry was stupid, as he had done it once already, earlier in fact.. but angeal nodded, regardless, the small smile on his lips expanding, even if it was just a pinch wider.

“if it guarantees your safety.. in a heartbeat.” he answered with little delay, a fondness in his mako tinted eyes — one that he only ever really showed to you.

notes. zack being the only one who actually says i love you verbatim.. meanwhile the others are cryptic and expect you to guess ( cloud.. genesis.. ) or say it without needing to say those three words.. crazy tbh

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Happy holidays! By any chance, could I ask for a HC where MC gets into an accidental baby acquisition trope and has to babysit with Azul, Sebek, Malleus, and Riddle?

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul is about to write a ransom note if this person expects to get their baby back. He’s drawing up the terms of the contract as you’re coddling the baby, knowing there wasn’t a point in trying to talk him out of it as he was already infuriated that he’d had this responsibility dumped on him randomly. He doesn’t get how you can just accept this injustice and you rolled your eyes at him, telling him most people didn’t spend an hour negotiating a deal before performing a task. He still doesn’t want much to do with the baby but unfortunately for him the baby is endlessly fascinated with him; they constantly reach out to grab at his glasses or his hair, and he’s quickly scribbling additions onto the bill in regards to smudges and emotional distress.

He does eventually hold them when you have to retrieve something (the other alternative being they took off into the lounge if he just left them on the ground which he knew would piss you off, and he especially didn’t feel like dealing with that) but he claimed he didn’t enjoy the time. The baby continued to poke and prod at him, with Azul returning the gesture and poking at the baby’s cheeks which only sent them into a fit of giggles. It almost got a smile out of him but he couldn’t take the hit to his pride, huffing and hastily handing the baby back over when you returned.

Malleus Draconia:

Please keep an eye on that baby. Malleus’ only interaction with human babies had been with Silver when he was just a little ball of chub, and with Lilia being his father… Silver was lucky to have survived his childhood but he had always been special. This baby was not Silver however, and while Malleus would never purposely put them in harms way you can see he doesn’t have the same gentleness another human might have with a fragile little baby. He doesn’t mind when you correct him on the proper way to hold them and listened intently as you explained some of the actions to avoid, like pulling at their little limbs or allowing anything to hit their head. He thinks this is an interesting learning experience though he’s not quite sure what he might need to know about taking care of a human baby, but it also made him happy because it meant you were spending time together.

The baby looked up at Malleus with wide eyes at first, having never seen a fae with long horns or a man quite as striking as Malleus Draconia. They quieted down whenever Malleus spoke to them, seeming to like the sound of his voice and babbling back when he stopped talking. Once they were more comfortable with him they couldn’t help but reach up to touch his horns which you carefully monitored, watching as they felt the new texture and making sure they didn’t yank at them (or his hair) too harshly. Malleus commended their curiosity and lack of fear, thinking it was quite refreshing.

Riddle Rosehearts:

You might assume Riddle would try to collar a baby who was crying incessantly or who wouldn’t listen, but he was surprisingly patient. He took offense to that observation as of course you couldn’t force a baby to follow rules, but you could try and that would matter more than anything. He thinks it’s good to introduce kids to rules as early as possible so they can start getting them into their little heads even if they can’t memorize them quite yet; maybe in the future these early lessons would prove fruitful. He’s patient but it doesn’t mean he won’t get frustrated, able to pull all kinds of knowledge out about babies but not knowing how to truly connect with them.

The baby does stop crying each time Riddle began to talk about the rules, and he even pulled out a book to read through to keep them distracted. He thought this was a good activity because it gave them both something to do, and the little one did seem invested in what he was saying even if they didn’t truly understand. He had never been read to like this when he was young and it sent a pang through his heart, wondering if things might have been different if he had a little more wonder in his young life. Either way, he was no longer the baby in this situation and all he could do was hope they were enjoying their time with him while it lasted.

Sebek Zigvolt:

You think there might be a competition going on about who can be louder. Neither one of them even seem to be shouting but the baby responded with the same tone as Sebek, and his speaking voice just had a natural boom to it. While he had wanted to run at first you had begged him to help you, and while that hadn’t done much the baby’s fascination with Sebek’s portrait of Malleus had. You think the interaction is the funniest thing in the world especially when Sebek tried to indoctrinate the baby into the Malleus Draconia club, holding the portrait in his arms while tears gathered in his eyes.

The way he lit up when he talked about Malleus was cute and the baby clapped in response to his rambling, urging him to continue. Sebek wondered if he repeated Malleus’ name enough if the baby might say it. You stated the parents might not appreciate it but Sebek said it was their own fault as they were the ones who suddenly left him with the baby; either way, they should be honored if Malleus’ name was the first word they uttered. The baby has not a single clue what’s going on but thinks the two of you going back and forth is hilarious, collapsing into fits of giggles each time Sebek made a new face at you trying to reign in his Malleus obsession.

[miaoua3]

Can we please get a Vernon head cannon… I struggle to find them on here but your svt ones are just amazing :))

hi! sure you can, and thank you so much for saying that, hope you enjoy this!

Vernon Boyfriend Headcanons:

•(sfw! hcs):

we all know that he is mostly silent throughout the day, but i truly believe that vernon would NOT be able to shut up with his significant other, he would be talking 24/7 to you, be prepared to hear about his day from the moment he woke up to the moment he came through the door of your apartment

throughout your relationship, you notice that your boyfriend has a problem. a very big and potentially dangerous problem. and that is that he brings all sorts of animals home. it started on one rainy night, he was supposed to be home 20 minutes ago but he was nowhere to be seen or heard. just as you were about to call him for the nth time, he came in through the door, drenched from head to toe from the heavy rain. and with three kittens in his arms. he didn’t even try to make any excuses, he just proceeded to say “i found them behind the dumpster two blocks away.”

we all know that he sleeps like a corpse, so naturally he wouldn’t cuddle you back while he’s asleep, but before that he definitely won’t let you out of his arms. he’s either talking your ear off or is casually scrolling through his phone. to be honest, it doesn’t matter what he’s doing, as long as you are in his arms he considers it time well spent. and just because he doesn’t cuddle you back during his sleep doesn’t mean you can’t do what you will lol, you can lie on him, hug him tightly and throw your leg over his stomach, he won’t care-but he also he won’t reciprocate it either because my man is just like this🧍

constantly shows you something on his phone, doesn’t matter what you are doing, you will just see his hand appear in front of your face before you even hear him say “babe look at this”, be it a meme or a cute cat video, he just wants you to see everything that he does too so you can enjoy it too

speaking off, kinda unpopular opinion but vernon definitely calls you babe or a nickname based on your name, i don’t really see him only calling you bro or dude like most claim he would do, i just don’t think he would go that overboard on cute nicknames either, but something small and cute just to signify both to himself and you, as well as to people around you that you two are together, and at the end of the day that would be a small way of him showing his love and affectionate for you

if you have a niece, count on vernon to ask you every other week with sparkly eyes if you can go and visit them, he just loves your niece so much even though he doesn’t really know how to play with her, he still loves her so much. even if he has to sit on a little pink chair with a tiara on his head while drinking ‘tea’ from a little pink cup, he doesn’t mind, as long as he gets to read her bed time stories when she goes to bed, he’s okay with it all❤️

i feel like everyone has already said this but vernon definitely has a big thing for showing you and sharing to you his love for music and movies. from making you new playlists with new songs he heard (and that remind him of you), to having a dedicated day of the week for movie nights, he just wants to have somebody that he can talk to about his favourite things so pls make sure to pay close attention to what he’s showing you :(

•(nsfw! hcs):

vernon strikes me as a man who wouldn’t have that high of a sex drive, but when he’s in a mood, count on the fact that you will be doing it for hours to no end and that you won’t be able to walk the next day. he will bend you in positions you didn’t even know you could be bent into, he will try out all the paces until he finds one that you enjoy the most that night. sex with vernon would never feel like chore but rather like a brand new and beautiful experience every single time

he actually gets really nervous before going on stage, so he always drags you into the nearest corner for a quickie or to eat you out or to have you suck his dick, for him it’s a great way to get all that pent up energy out (plus seeing you on your knees, with teary eyes as you struggle to wrap your mouth around his thick cock is something he can think about while on stage as a way to pass the time-)

if you ever thought that this man had a stone face and that he’s expressionless most of the time, that would change the very first time he fucked you-his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, his mouth opened as moans keep on spilling from his mouth, droplets of sweat sliding down his temple, a few landing onto you due to him hovering above you-yeah, let’s just say that he makes the prettiest faces and noises ever

prefers it when you ride him, especially after a hard day at work, there’s nothing he loves more than leaning on the backrest of the couch and letting you take care of him, as well as letting your wet pussy swallow him whole, he would just lay there with his eyes closed and let you do whatever you think he would enjoy-sucking on his neck, scratching his chest with your nails, whispering sweet and encouraging words in his ears- let’s just say that this is top 3 best feelings he could ever feel

has a thing for both biting and being bitten, just something about the sensation you feel when you’re being bitten is so hot to him-imagine feeling so good and so much pleasure that the only thing to stop from screaming and letting the whole world know how good you’re feeling is to bite his shoulder, it makes his brain go ckslcnsnqjqh

for some reason finds himself always fucking you in the most unusual places-on top of the kitchen counter, in the bathtub, behind some restaurant that is secluded enough but also not enough, on dino’s couch??? when he wasn’t even in his apartment??? he just…fucks you when he gets in the mood, no matter the time, place or the occasion

you can’t even dare to say to me that he doesn’t have a thing for cream pies, just the sight of his cum dripping from inside you, your pussy clenching around nothing before he pushes his cock back inside along with the cum that was just about to drip out-let’s just say every thought from his head (if he had any left due to the feeling of your pussy clenching around his dick) evaporates, only thing he can focus on is you and how good his cum looks like coating your lower lips i- i need him i fear

[vigilskeep]

mairyn is my idea of a hawke who was really defined by the horrors of ostagar. even as the warden, up in the tower, we never quite experience what it was like down in the mud when the banners started going down and the battle rush turned to panic

she was one of the first to desert when the tide began to turn, blindly shooting down anyone—darkspawn or fellow soldier—who tried to stand between her and getting her brother and getting out. her commanding officer had been a gruff but honourable nobleman, a mentor figure who’d taken a chance on a scoundrel with a tongue too sharp for her own good. she doesn’t know what happened to him, whether if in his final moments he had been thankful she’d fled or cursed her for abandoning him. all she knows is that in the days between ostagar and lothering, his old mabari found her, and has limped along in her shadow since

her life is definitely cleanly cut down the middle between ‘before’ and ‘after’. i like the absence of ostagar in what we see, because i like the idea that the one thing mairyn would make varric promise is to cut ostagar and carver’s death from the story, as he does in the exaggerated intro. one story she won’t tell, like his bianca

she’s evenly weighted purple/red, restless and resentful, saying whatever will cut the deepest or spark the most laughter, anything to have an impact, start a fight, dodge the personal. she’s definitely rushing through life, going for everything that’s exciting and dangerous and fun, quick to leave baggage behind. she’s still running from ostagar. the only time she stopped was to drag carver to safety, and it was for nothing, just to lose him anyway. she won’t make the same mistake again. she loves her family, sure, on the days she doesn’t want to strangle them, but no matter what her father asked her to do—play the third parent and always be a protector for her siblings, like she would never have her own life, like she didn’t matter—she’s going to live for what she wants. running has to be the right answer, the only thing anyone can do, because if it isn’t, she’ll have to face what she did that night at ostagar

pretty unfortunate that she’s about to fall in love with a lot of people who can’t be truly saved, but need you to stop and try anyway!

also her entire aesthetic in my head is based on this one hawke concept art:

wet cat of a woman. horrible kirkwall ghoul. you should never be completely sure somebody didn’t fish her out of the docks this morning

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 2

I'm so glad that people enjoyed the first part of this so much. I hope you like sexy times and long chapters, because this has both.

I should point out that this is mid to late 80s and Eddie's cell phone is an actual fucking brick. Rich rockstar and all.

In this part we get Eddie sliding into home, finding out Steve's real age and how he got into the bar past a bouncer known for spotting fakes.

Part 1

Mature 18+ only!

~

Eddie was doing what he did best and that was absolutely shred on stage. He was back up vocals because Jeff truly had the pipes. Something they didn’t actually learn until they were half way through their first record.

He had no delusions that if he had remained lead singer, that they would have gotten absolutely fucking nowhere.

He was also keeping an eye on his little canary. Bright yellow in a sea of leather and chains. He just wanted to bite those cheeks. Face or ass, didn’t matter which. Though he would be very happy indeed to sink his teeth into that amazing ass.

Too soon and not soon enough they were saying goodbye. As they walked off stage, Eddie saw Chrissy come back up to Steve. Most likely telling him to stay a little longer.

Eddie was 97% sure that little Canary gave off queer vibes, but that little teeny-tiny doubt was all it took from going over there and bending him over the bar and fucking him wildly.

In the dressing room as they were putting away their guitars, Chrissy came bouncing into the room, bright smile on her face.

“You fucking owe me big time, lover boy,” she told Eddie. “His name is Steve, he’s twenty-two and he’s a local.”

Eddie leaned back against the sofa cushion and draped one arm over the back. “That’s all very interesting Chris, but that doesn’t help me get laid.”

She held up her hand. “I’m getting to it, babe. Pretty boy’s drinking his sorrows because Daddy kicked him out for being caught with his boyfriend.”

Suddenly Eddie was on the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees.

“Who told you that?” Gareth asked, twirling a stick between his fingers.

“Monty, the bouncer,” Chrissy replied, looking smug. “Steve is a regular and Monty knows him.”

Jeff raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Well enough that he would know the dude is queer in small town Bumfuck, Indiana?”

“That’s what he said.”

Brian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The worst thing that would happen is that he blows you off and you blow town. Everyone knows you’re gay anyway, it won’t hurt shit if he says anything.”

Jeff and Gareth exchanged concerned glances.

“I’m with Brian,” Eddie said, “and not just because I find the dude hot. He’s not going to start shit surrounded by all my fans and if he’s just out for drinks there’s nothing wrong with me having a couple with the guy.”

Gareth and Jeff sighed.

“You were going to do whatever you wanted to do anyway,” Gareth said. “And even I could tell he had a hard time keeping his eyes off you and I’m in the fucking back!”

Eddie cackled. “Damn right.”

~

Steve was enjoying his second Tequila Sunrise, when the lead guitarist slid into the stool next to him.

Steve turned in his seat to look at him. “Wow, as I live and breathe, Eddie Munson in the flesh. You know you’re better looking in person then you are in pictures.”

Eddie cackled and ordered a beer. He turned to face Steve as the bartender pulled his beer and set it down in front him.

“Cocktails are an interesting choice,” he murmured after taking a sip of his beer. “I would have pegged you for the bottle beer type.”

Steve raised an eyebrow over the top of his glass. “Beer’s great unless you want to get drunk fast then it’s shit. Especially in this hick town.” He took a sip. “Plus it tastes better.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Fair point. I stick to beer so that I don’t get drunk off my ass, falling off stage is never fun regardless of the height involved.”

“Sounds like you’ve had experience,” Steve said with a huff of laughter.

Eddie hummed around the lip of his bottle and took a sip. “Yep! In the early days of the band, took a header off a stage at some festival, right into the crowd. I’m not sure who got hurt worst, me or the poor people I landed on.”

Steve winced. “That’s rough. At least you were able to come back from that, don’t think most people could.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said with a smile.

They continued to talk. Steve knew the signs. The way Eddie was leaning close, the way he would let his hands gaze his skin, the flirty language. There was no doubt Steve was going home with this one. Well hotel, anyway. So he slowed up on his alcohol intake.

And if the bartender’s smirk was any indication, Eddie was doing the same. It seemed that neither one was interested in drunk sex.

~

Eddie was going to kill Monty and Jeff was never going to let him live it down. Because there was no way this guy was twenty-two. Sure, he knew how to hold his liquor and when to slow down, he had to give him that, so clearly he’d been drinking awhile. But he talked like a high school student.

He just hoped his little Canary was only naive and not actually fucking under age.

“Shit,” Eddie said after draining the rest of his third beer in two hours, “I could kill for a smoke.”

“I wouldn’t mind one,” Steve said, leaning close, “if you’ve got one to share.”

Eddie eyed him up and down. “What no room in those pants for a pack of smokes?”

“I mean I could,” Steve said cocking his head to the side, “But it would leave much room for anything else and I kinda need my wallet more than I need a pack of smokes on me at all times, so...”

Eddie laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, darlin’, I can see why that might be a problem.”

He hopped off the stool and Steve dutifully followed him out the back. He pulled out a couple of smokes and lit them both before handing one to Steve.

“So how did you get your fake ID past the door gargoyle?” Eddie asked after taking a drag and blowing straight up into the air.

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “What gave me away?”

Yup. Jeff was never going to let him live this down. God damn it.

“For all your big talk,” he huffed, annoyed, “you don’t sound like someone who’s been around long enough to be the age on your ID.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve had the same ID since I was sixteen. Both of them. I have a cousin Scott who was nineteen at the time and altered it for me.” He pulled out the fake ID and handed it to him.

Eddie squinted in the dark and realized that if he hadn’t been told it was a fake he wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But there slight smudges where there shouldn’t be that just tipped it over the edge into fake territory.

“Okay,” he groused, “that is a pretty good fake. But Monty is known for his eagle eye in spotting a fake, so what gives?”

Steve grinned as he took back the ID. “Scott is my cousin on my dad’s side and Monty’s my cousin on my mom’s side. He knows my parents are shit so he pays the owner under the table when I go out to drink here. Which I keep to a minimum for his sake, mainly I use it to buy beer in out of town gas stations.” He pulled out his real ID and handed it Eddie. “I’m young, but I’m not stupid.”

Eddie blinked at Steve for a moment in shock. He looked down at the real age and god, the sigh of relief he bit back was immense. Nineteen. His little Canary was nineteen.

“Sorry for doubting you,” Eddie murmured, handing the ID back.

Steve shrugged again. “I get it. I’ve been told I have kind of a weird face when it comes to age, I could look anywhere from sixteen to thirty depending on the lighting and what I’m wearing.” He took his first drag of his cigarette and blew out of the side of his mouth, flicking the ashes on the ground.

Eddie stared at him owlishly for a moment before he dropped his cigarette on the pavement and ground it with the heel of his boot. Then he surged forward and grabbed Steve’s face to mash their lips together.

Steve’s fingers slackened and the cigarette fell from his fingers and rolled away. He brought his hands up to get his hands on those curls like he’d been dreaming about all night. Eddie moaned as blunt nails scratched his scalp. He wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him in close.

This time it was Steve’s turn to moan. They pressed together from chest to knees and he could feel everything through the thin layer of his clothes.

Eddie’s hands roamed down his back and straight to those delicious looking ass cheeks. He wanted to taste them as surely as he could taste the ash on his lips.

All the buildup, all the tension all night was culminated in this first kiss. Eddie was heady with it. The alcohol in his system burning away in the face of his desire for this man. Because young as he was his little Canary was a man, no doubt.

A man who clearly wanted to take this elsewhere and Eddie wanted to let him.

“Just, just,” he panted when he pulled away. “Just let me tell someone we’re going back to the hotel, okay baby?”

Steve nodded a little kiss drunk and a lot breathless. “Should I just wait here for you then?”

Eddie nodded and then dashed back into the bar. He was barely gone two minutes before he was back out and dragging Steve to his car.

When they got to the car, Eddie pushed him up against it to kiss him again.

“Someone’s eager,” Steve teased, his hands skirting the stripe of skin between Eddie’s pants and shirt.

“Baby, you have no idea,” he growled, diving in to kiss him senseless.

Steve moaned as every nerve in his body lit up with every lick of Eddie’s tongue, every kiss of his lips, every touch of his hands. He felt like he was on fire.

Eddie pulled away long enough to unlock the car. He opened the door and practically shoved Steve into it, before he ran around to the other side of the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“Hold on, baby,” Eddie purred as the engine roared to life, “you’re in for a ride.”

“God I hope so!” Steve said breathlessly, pressing back against the leather of the seat.

Eddie cackled, pulling into traffic. “Oh honey, you have no idea.”

~

Hands were everywhere by the time they finally got into the hotel room.

Steve had stayed in some pretty swanky places growing up, traveling with his parents but fuck it was nothing this decadent.

All the fittings were brass and the tops were marble. In the middle of this was a large king size bed with black bedding and white throw pillows. If he wasn’t trying to get the two of them naked as fast as possible, he would have belly flopped on the mattress and buried his face in the pillows.

But all thoughts of that went out the window when Eddie’s mouth starting kissing down his throat as the only thing going off in his head became: YES! YES! YES!

Steve’s shirt was the first thing to come off as Eddie kept trying to get at more of Steve’s skin. Then Steve’s pants and shoes were next, leaving him naked in the face of the very dressed rock star.

Eddie picked him up and threw him on the bed. He tossed off his jacket and then tore of his shirt. He hopped on the bed and crawled up Steve’s body like a predator on the prowl. Steve moaned as Eddie kissed him deeply.

“God,” Steve groaned. “I need you to fuck me, so badly.”

Eddie grinned, his hands moving down Steve’s chest and sides to land on his hips. “Is that right, little Canary? You need to be fucked?”

Steve nodded, his capacity for speech having flown away with his ability to think of anything but getting to be fucked by a rock star.

Eddie scrambled off the bed and took off his boots and pants. Then he dug around in the nightstand before he pulled out what he was looking for. A small tube of lube and a pack of condoms.

Steve’s body shuddered with the thought of being absolutely wrecked by this beast of a man. Eddie looked good in his clothes, but so much better out of them. He was still as lean and tight as whipcord, but his body was toned with well-formed muscle. And then he pulled his hair back and suddenly Steve wanted to leave hickies all over that column of his throat. Because God! It was just as sinful as the rest of him.

“Shit,” he hissed. “You’re the reason people think gays are going to hell. You’re as gorgeous as sin. Fuck!”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment and threw back his had in laughed. “Baby, that was quite the line.” But before Steve could even think about frowning at being laughed at, he dived back in to kiss his mouth. “If I’m sin, little Canary, then you must be heaven sent.”

Steve wanted to protest that Eddie’s line was worst, but again all thoughts went out of his head when Eddie put the first condom on Steve. His hips bucked with the touch even if it wasn’t a sexual one.

“Now who’s the eager one, baby?” Eddie purred.

Steve moaned the loss of his hands as he watched Eddie sheath his dick in the second condom. He tossed the foil packets away and then popped open the cap of lube. He coated his finger with the liquid and circled Steve’s hole.

Steve let out a little whine at being touched but not enough. It wasn’t enough. Then Eddie breached the ring of muscle and holy fuck, it felt so good.

“You like that, little Canary?” Eddie teased, working his finger in and out of him.

“So good,” Steve breathed, trying not fuck himself on the digit.

“And you’re going to continue feel good, aren’t you?” Eddie murmured into Steve stomach. “Because you’re going to be a good boy and tell me if anything is uncomfortable or hurts, right?”

Steve nodded.

“Use your words, little Canary,” Eddie said, pulling his finger out of him.

“Yes!” Steve cried, though he would have said anything just so that Eddie would come back with his finger.

“Good boy.”

But when he brought his finger back, he added another and Steve nearly careened off the bed. Eddie held him down with his other hand.

“Look at you,” he purred. “I’ve never been with anyone so responsive before, baby.”

“So good for you,” Steve babbled. “Want to be so good.”

“And you are,” Eddie assured him. “You are so good for me.”

Shortly after the second finger, a third was added and Steve was muttering pleas and inanities as Eddie continued to work him open.

“Please, Eddie!” he cried. “I need you!”

Eddie removed his fingers and lined himself up. He grabbed Steve’s hips and slipped right into him.

Soon it was an uncoordinated mess of Eddie fucking Steve and Steve working himself to get off.

“So close...” Steve whispered.

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and together they finished him off. His body arched off the bed as he released into the condom. He fell boneless, to the bed as Eddie chased his own completion.

Soon after he was releasing ribbon after ribbon into the condom. His hips shuttered and then stilled as the last of his orgasm floated through his system.

He pulled off Steve’s condom first and then his own, making sure to tie each off before throwing them away.

He cleaned them both up with a wet hand towel from the en suite bathroom and then tucked a sleepy Steve into the bed.

He crawled in behind him and pulled him in close. He kissed Steve’s shoulder and the man muttered back sleepily something that sounded a little too close to, “Love you, too,” for Eddie’s liking.

Not because he didn’t want Steve in love with him, but because he was half way there himself.

This boy was going to be trouble.

~

Steve absolutely doesn't remember saying those three little words the next day.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart

[lancermylove]

Dark Side of Dating Him (Dateables)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Dateables x gn!Reader

Warning: The warning will vary depending on the character, but nothing too serious.

Prompt: This is their dark side, so proceed with caution.

These are just some parts of the HCs. All the HCs, including the brothers and royals, are on my website.

———————————————

Simeon

Simeon’s calm and composed nature can be both a blessing and a curse. While he may rarely lose his temper, it also means he tends to avoid confrontation. This avoidance can make resolving conflicts challenging, as Simeon prefers to gloss over issues or downplay their significance rather than addressing them head-on.

As an angel devoted to his duties and the celestial realm, Simeon’s work often precedes his personal life. You may feel like a secondary priority, as he spends more time writing his novels, tending to celestial matters, or guiding others spiritually rather than focusing on your relationship.

Simeon’s perfectionism and high moral standards sometimes make him seem judgmental or unyielding. He holds himself to a high standard and expects the same from his partner, which can lead to feelings of inadequacy if you cannot meet his expectations.

Thirteen

Thirteen’s mischievous and playful nature is a cause of chaos. While her pranks and antics are all in good fun (to her), they might occasionally cross the line and leave you feeling frustrated, embarrassed, or even hurt.

As the Grim Reaper, Thirteen has a close relationship with death and often looks at it in a calm or humorous view. This perspective may be difficult for you to digest if you’re uncomfortable with dark humor or the concept of mortality.

You will have to get used to the concept of death and hearing about death because Thirteen will share all her adventures of soul collecting with you, whether you like it or not. It’s her job, so she doesn’t see anything wrong with talking about it.

Solomon

Solomon’s mischievous and unpredictable nature can make it hard to know where you stand with him. He’s a master of manipulation and charm, and while he doesn’t mean harm, his habit of keeping secrets and playing mind games can leave you unsettled and questioning his true intentions.

As the only human who’s lived for centuries, Solomon’s vast knowledge and experience can create a significant disconnect between the two of you. He may unintentionally patronize you or dismiss your concerns as insignificant compared to the challenges he’s faced in his long life.

Solomon’s obsession with magic can lead to risky experiments and dangerous situations. You might find yourself unwillingly dragged into magical mishaps, such as dealing with curses, unstable potions, or portals gone awry. His tendency to prioritize his magical pursuits over your safety can become frustrating and frightening.

Mephisto

Mephisto’s aristocratic demeanor and superiority complex can be both alluring and frustrating. His belief in his own excellence can come off as arrogance, and he may look down on you without realizing how condescending he’s being.

Mephistopheles can be excessively critical, as he thrives on control and order. He will pick apart even the smallest of flaws. This perfectionism might leave you feeling like you can never meet his high standards, which can create tension in the relationship.

He has a sharp tongue and won’t hesitate to use it in arguments. His words can sometimes sting more than he realizes, especially if you’re feeling vulnerable or emotional.

Raphael

Raphael’s stoic and no-nonsense personality can make him come off as distant and unapproachable, even in a romantic relationship. He struggles to express his feelings, so you might often find yourself guessing how he truly feels about you.

As someone who values discipline and order, Raphael can sometimes be overly strict or critical. He has high expectations for himself and others, and while he means well, his words or actions may come off as harsh or unkind, especially during moments of conflict.

Raphael’s dedication to his duties can overshadow his personal life. He prioritizes his responsibilities as an angel above all else, making you feel like you’re competing for his attention or that you’re not his top priority.

———————————————

➣ All Masterlists

➣ OM Masterlist: [Genre][By Characters]

➣ Tumblr Only ML: Obey Me

[viridescent-din]

Hope

Joel x reader. Smut, 18+ only Fingering, age gap.

~

There’s no hope for you.

You don’t take it personally. There’s no hope for anyone anymore. But it still stings, knowing it will probably never get better. Knowing that in spite of everything, even though you and everyone else that’s left has been given the worst hand fate could have dealt, you can’t ever have what you want. What’s right in front of you. 

Joel, leaving you for weeks on end to smuggle God knows what. Angry when you come, angry when you don’t. Short tempered and mean, hurting under all those layers of pain and experience and grime. When you met Joel, you promised yourself you would dig into him, make your way through those layers and burrow under them. Warm him from the inside out. You wanted to know him.

Now you do, and it hurts more than ever. It’s a nicer pain than feeling nothing at all, but it’s still heavy. The lingering glances Joel gives you make you feel truly alive, but they make you ache too. The wandering eyes, the brushes of his arm, the death grip he holds you in on the runs when you stumble across infected. You know Joel well enough to understand they mean something. To you and him. He doesn’t touch other people like that. He doesn’t care for them. Protect them. 

If he’s felt the way he does for you this long and hasn’t done anything about it, he’s never going to.

It’s possible that Joel doesn’t want to make the first move - doesn’t want to be the one that really changes the comfortable (almost, almost domestic) closeness you two have. There’s lots of reasons he wouldn’t: he’s older than you, for one. There’s also FEDRA and the Fireflies and anyone else who keeps an eye on Joel, looking for a weakness. The lack of confirmation between the two of you as to just what you are bleeds over to anyone who watches you interact. If something changes, if Joel really admits this is real, it won’t stay between the two of you no matter how much he might try. They’ll notice. Joel can’t afford to lose anyone else. 

It’s hopeless, you and Joel. So you try not to think about it, and you never, ever push him. 

-

Joel can’t take this much longer. Can’t take you. 

It’s killing him. Everything is: his job, his age, his sorrow. Everything is wearing Joel down, making him drag his feet and look for the nearest somewhat safe spot so he can collapse and finally rest. For just one fucking minute. 

He only feels rested when he’s with you. And Joel hates himself for that. Hates putting that amount of responsibility on you - to burden you with him. You’ve never asked for that. 

Of course, you’ve never asked because you’re scared that if you do, Joel will leave. He doesn’t blame you. He’s not entirely sure that he wouldn’t.

You’re so good. It blinds him sometimes, your goodness. Sometimes it’s like the sun, shining down on Joel as he overlooks the ruins of whatever given city he’s in. But sometimes it’s like the light on the soldier’s gun twenty years ago, forcing Joel to realize everything he holds dear is devastatingly fragile. 

If Joel let you give yourself to him the way he knows you want to, all he would do is take. He would envelope you, trap you in his chest. He’s cold and gruff and he would expect you to just deal with it. More than you already do. 

~

“Should be an easy run,” you finish telling Joel late one night. You try not to notice how nice he looks in red, even if the shirt he’s wearing is dusty and beat up. “I’ll be back before morning.”

“I’m coming with you.” Joel responds gruffly. You purse your lips.

“I know you had something planned with Tess,” you say. “It’s just the mall. I’m not even leaving the QZ.”

“It’s boarded up for a reason.”

“I trust the people that say it’s safe -”

“Tess can handle herself. Ain’t no thing for me to go with you.” You still.

You don’t mean to be upset with Joel, but stings anyway, the lack of faith he has in you. It’s times like this that make you feel young. Stupid and incapable. 

Needy.

“Tess can leave the QZ on her own but I can’t even make a quick trip to the mall?” You manage to keep the accusation out of your tone, but it’s still implied. Joel knows. 

“Hey,” he says, short. “That’s not what I’m sayin’.” You swallow.

“I know, Joel, I just -”

“Tess has experience. She’s been doing this shit practically since it all started.” You nod as you look away, nails digging into your palms as you clench them. Your heart jumps when you feel Joel take your hand, prying it open. “Quit doin’ that.” He murmurs. Joel’s hand is warm, spreading waves of heat throughout your body. You unclench your fist, and Joel rubs his thumb over the lines of barely broken skin. “It’s different with you,” he says, barely audible. “You know it is.”

For a second, you think this is it. The walls are coming down, and Joel is admitting. Confessing, even. You look at him, eyes wide and hopeful. 

He drops your hand and walks away. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow night. Be ready.” He says. The door slams shut behind him. 

~

“What are we even here for?” Joel only thinks to ask once you’ve led him into some sort of breaker room. You shine your flashlight at all the light switches and levers, looking for the right one. Joel frowns at himself. He should have pressed you for more information about this. It’s not like him to… not. “If I’m just here to take you shopping, we can leave now.”

“Yeah, Joel, you’re here to take me shopping. Prom is right around the corner.” You say. Smart ass, Joel thinks. He lets himself smile while you aren’t looking.

“Think you’re a little old for that.” Joel shines his own flashlight overheard, looking at all the decay. Water drips onto his face, and he wipes it off. 

“I’m not that much older, you know. I am twenty f-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Joel stops you. You grin at him before lifting a lever. Machinery whirrs around you both, and the lights slowly flicker on.

“Whatever you say, old man.” Joel rolls his eyes, but secretly, he’s relieved to have you teasing him again. Joel doesn’t like how he left your place last night, how real it felt. How for a moment, he was the cause of the hurt that flickered over your face. “This way.” You tell him, leading him down the maintenance hallway and into the actual mall. 

Even Joel can’t help but marvel at it, even in ruin. It’s massive, and all the stores are reminding him of brands he had forgotten existed. His chest clenches at the sight of some of them, the models that would have Sarah’s age.

The last time he went to a mall was with her. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe, eyes wandering. “Look how big it is, Joel! Everything is -”

“Are we gonna be here all night?” Joel demands, suddenly gruff and impatient. Your face falls. “Let’s get what you want and leave, alright?”

“Right,” you say, excitement gone. “It’s um - I just remember my mom going to the mall whenever one of us got sick. I know there’s… there are like, pharmacies or whatever. I thought it would be good to stock up on medicine.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, angry at himself for taking his shit out on you. It’s not your fault he insisted on coming. 

It’s a good plan, too. Joel is surprised he or Tess didn’t think of it. 

“That’s good. Smart.” He tells you, trying to ease the tension. “Do you remember how to find your way around a mall?” You shake your head. “It’s called a directory. It’s a map, usually on the first floor.” Joel spots an escalator a few feet in front of you. “Let’s go look at one, yeah? Better than wandering around the entire night.”

“Okay.” You agree. “Lead the way.”

~

The pharmacy is on the second floor, so you and Joel head back the way you came after looking at the directory. You start rambling about how there might not even be anything, how a mall probably doesn’t have as much as a CVS or a Walgreens. Joel stops you. 

“Even one bottle of antibiotics is better than none,” he tells you. “This was smart. Good job.” You give Joel a small smile. 

“Thanks,” you say. 

The pharmacy turns out to be well stocked - you and Joel jump over the counter and find practically everything full. Joel watches you look at the labels of everything a few times before you take to dumping things in your backpack. Joel is more careful, on the lookout for penicillin and any other helpful meds he can remember. He falters when he grabs one prescription and reads it: cryselle, low ogestrel. Birth control. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Joel glances at you.

“You ready?” You ask. You’re standing on the counter, looking down. Joel shoves the pills in pocket. 

“Yeah,” he says, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s -” Joel doesn’t even hear the growling until it’s too late, until a rotted hand grabs your ankle and pulls, the crack of your ribs on the counter bouncing off the walls and the look of surprise on your face permanently searing itself onto Joel’s brain. 

~

“Joel!” You scream, the infected chomping at you, practically ripping the skin of its neck to reach you. Bite you. You let out another scream, one pure terror and pain. Your torso is throbbing, a blinding pain that’s making it harder and harder to keep the infected off you. You thrash, kicking its legs in an attempt to get it off, but you only make its knees collapse so its weight falls on you even more. You let out a frustrated sob. 

This is it, you think to yourself. Even if I get out of this, Joel is never letting me do a run again. Your arms start to weaken at the thought, subconsciously giving in. 

The shot fires so close to you it makes your ears ring. The infected stops growling, slumping on top of you. You push it off, dazed. 

Joel is on you in an instant, hands running over every inch of bare skin you have. Hands, wrists. Neck. He hooks his fingers under your chin and forces you to look at him, distress written all over his face. You cough, wincing as it rattles your ribs. 

“Good,” you manage. “I’m clean.” Joel sags with relief, his forehead pressed against yours. He smells scared, stressed and acrid. You close your eyes and breathe it in. 

“C’mon,” Joel says, standing. “There could be more. There’s always more.”

~

He takes you to his apartment. His, not yours. You drop your bags at the door, kicking off your shoes. Joel leads you to his bedroom, and you sit on his sheets, wincing. When you pull up your shirt, your skin is raised and bruised. You tug it back down. 

“Does it feel like a clean break?” Joel asks. You shrug, not knowing what he expects you to say. He leaves, coming back with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. “Ibuprofen.” He explains. “Nothing fancy for a few broken bones.” You thank him. 

“Should we wrap it?” You ask. 

“Don’t know. Might make sleeping on ‘em the first night easier.” Joel watches you. “Can I see?”

You swallow as Joel stands over you. Slowly, you lift your shirt.

To Joel’s credit, he doesn’t freak out. It dawns on you that he might be thinking you’re making a big deal out of nothing. You don’t know what Joel’s life was like before you were in it, but you know it was worse than a few cracked bones. Embarrassment creeps up your face. 

“It’s nothing.” You dismiss it. Joel nods. 

“Nothing.” He agrees. He doesn’t sound convincing, though. 

~

It’s not even that bad. Joel knows that.

He watches people die every day. He’s seen the worst of death and then some. He’s seen people stumble into the QZ holding their innards in their hands. He’s watched people rip their tongues out as the virus infects them, trying to rid themselves of the spores they can feel invading their bodies.

You have a few cracked ribs. You’re strong. You can handle it. 

But the thing is, Joel can’t. He’s worn down, he’s exhausted and scared he just can’t keep himself from caring so much. 

He’s making this a bigger deal than it is. Joel thinks you feel the same - you’re waving him off, saying you’re fine. Saying it’s nothing. The wound is, sure. But the terror Joel felt when he saw you disappear behind the counter in less than a second? That isn’t nothing. It’s everything. You’re everything.

“You wanna stay here for the night?” Joel asks you. Splashes of black and blue spread over your torso, painting your skin. It makes Joel feel sick. He shouldn’t have let this happen. 

“Yeah,” you say. “If it’s okay.” Joel shrugs in response, hunching his shoulders to ward his paranoia away. You give him a small smile, tugging your shirt down. Joel turns around, walking over to the small dresser near the door and digging out one of his flannels. He knows you like them, and you know Joel likes seeing you in them just as much. He tosses it to you on the bed. You catch it smoothly, laying it next to you. Joel faces the wall, letting you change your shirt. 

And then he hears it. 

It’s a small noise that you make. It probably isn’t even one of pain, you’ve been through worse than this, it’s just a hiss of discomfort as you raise your arms above your head to take your shirt off. 

And Joel is rushing towards you, brow furrowed, hands outstretched and mind telling him no, no, no, just like it has for years. 

Joel’s been silently telling himself no to you since he met you. He’s older now. 

He can’t bring himself to listen anymore. 

Joel kneels in front of you, grunting as his knees protest. Your eyes are wide, and you’ve frozen. Your hands are gripping the hem of your shirt, holding it just above your navel. You watch as Joel’s eyes flick towards the bareness of your stomach, and even though he just saw it so he could look at your ribs, Joel can tell you know he’s looking in a different way now. He swallows, leaning forward.

“Let me help you, baby.” Joel says. You draw in a breath.

“Are you sure?” You whisper. You know what this means, what Joel’s thinly veiled statement implies. Joel returns your gaze. 

Joel reaches forward, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it carefully over your head. A small ‘good job’ tumbles off his lips when you raise your arms without making another sound of discomfort again, and Joel sees what his praise does to you. 

He leans back on his heels, looking at you sitting with your breasts exposed on his bed, bones cracked and in need of repair. He watches you wait for him to really promise something, to show you that this is finally happening. 

You’ve been so patient. Joel can’t make you wait any longer.

-

“Joel,” Joel’s name comes out a gasp as he lays you down, 

Joel props himself on the wall, sitting on the pillows. He pulls your back against his chest, arm over your collarbone while his other hand dangles between your legs. He massages your thighs and your eyes slide shut. You grip his forearm, nails biting into his skin. 

When Joel’s fingers have finally worked their way up and are tracing your slick entrance, you whimper. 

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” Joel licks the shell of your ear as he murmurs, and you feel so safe. He’s capable and willing and wanting, you can feel his hardness against the small of your back. 

If it were anyone else, this would feel sudden. But it’s Joel. You’ve been waiting so long. You’d be lying if you said you understood why it was now that he finally decided to do something, but you don’t care. You don’t care why this brush with death was the one that made the walls come down. You just care that it did. 

Joel kisses your neck, sinking his teeth into the muscle of where your shoulder meets your neck, and you gasp, keening against him. 

Teeth marks on your shoulder. Bruises on your hips. Joel is trying to make up for the fact you’re battered from today’s supply run. You’re about to say something about it when his fingertip pushes into your cunt. Your mouth drops open, and you moan so loud you almost slap your hand over your mouth instinctively. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you hear Joel say as he slides his finger further in. Your thighs tremble, and Joel stills. “Hey,” Joel says your name, serious. “How long has it been?” He asks in a whisper. He runs his thumb up painfully slow over your clit, the same way you would to someone’s back or shoulder if you were trying to comfort them. It makes your head spin. “I gotta know how slow you need it.” He explains. You open your eyes, and Joel is staring at you. 

“I,” you feel your cheeks burn. “I haven’t ever…” excuses build on your tongue before you even finish your sentence. I haven’t had time. I was the only survivor I knew of for years. I was only a kid when this all started. I can’t trust anyone around here. I’m younger than you. You don’t say any of them. You can’t bring yourself to. 

“Oh, baby -”

“Please don’t stop,” you plead. Joel doesn’t move, his finger still inside you, gaze piercing. “Please, Joel. It’s not - it doesn’t have to be a big deal. I need this.” You can’t reach Joel’s lips from here, not with the way he’s holding you, so you drop your head and drag your lips across his forearms instead. “I need you.”

Joel closes his eyes, screwing them shut like he’s upset. But when he opens them, there’s no trace of anger. Just affection. 

“I’m not gonna stop,” he promises you. You nod, relieved. “I’m taking care of you, darlin.’”

When Joel pushes another thick finger inside you to prove his point, he chases away any doubt you had remaining. 

-

“I’m not going to use my cock on you tonight,” Joel tells you after what feels like hours of him working you open.Your disappointment is obvious. Insecurity begins to set in on you, but Joel won’t let it. “Not tonight,” he repeats. “Another time.” It takes a second for you to believe him, but eventually you murmur a quick ‘okay.’ “For now, I want you to finish with my fingers. Think you can do that for me, baby?” You nod, and Joel rewards you by curling his finger. “Good girl,” he says, and you clench around him. Joel smirks, amused, and rubs the thumb he has on your shoulder up and down soothingly. “Relax,” he tells you. “I’ve got you. Let me in.”

You try to wrap your head around the fact that this is happening, that after years of pining after Joel, he’s finally here. He’s sturdy and strong and present - you can feel all of him, his heartbeat against your back, his breath on your neck, his fingers so deep it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. His smell grounds you, filling your senses. You’re so full, so full of Joel. You have been for a long time now. 

You take a deep breath, letting yourself inhale Joel’s scent. Your exhale is shakier as Joel presses in deeper. Your gaze flickers down to where his fingers disappear, and you whimper at the sight. You’re never seen yourself like this, swollen and puffy. You’re transfixed by Joel’s fingers pumping in and out of you, shiny with your slick. He suddenly finds a spot you’ve never had touched before. You moan as he massages the spongy place, trying to find your breath. When Joel keeps at that and rubs at your clit again, your vision starts to blur. 

“Joel,” you gasp, the feeling foreign and overwhelming. “Joel. Joeljoeljoel -”

“Shh. You’re okay. I’m here,” Joel slows. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You exclaim. Your mind is spinning as the corners of your eyes begin to go white.

“Okay. Alright,” Joel soothes you. “I know, darlin’, I know. Feels so good it’s almost scary, isn’t it?” You screw your eyes shut, your chest heaving as you pant. Joel presses on, his confident voice pushing you close to the edge. “But you don’t need to be scared. You can let yourself have this,” Joel takes a breath in, his voice getting distant. “You deserve this, alright? Let me give this to you.” Joel almost sounds like he’s begging. “Please let me do this for you.”

All you can do is clench around him in response. 

~

Joel knows, Joel knows he shouldn’t be doing this. You’re better than him. You should have someone more handsome, someone younger, someone kinder.

Someone with less blood on their hands. 

But Joel is selfish. He’s a selfish man, he has been since he lost Sarah, and he wants this. Wants you. He wants to give you something, make you feel good for just one second in the shitty world you have to live in. He needs this. He needs to know you’re getting some type of pleasure. 

He hesitates when you say this is your first time.

It shouldn’t surprise him - you don’t have the resources people before the virus did. No internet, no sex ed, no parents or older siblings to ask. 

You don’t like new things. Joel knows you don’t like being inexperienced. You’re too good at what you do, it makes your tolerance for being out of depth very, very low. And this is so much more personal than anything else. He can feel your embarrassment when you confess to him, unable to even finish your sentence. 

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, and it isn’t because you have anything to be ashamed about, it’s because Joel is pretty sure you’ve barely even touched yourself and you still find it in you to trust him to do it. To beg. Joel is a sick man, because it goes straight to his dick, your trust and desperation. 

He wants to give this to you, and he doesn’t care if it also feels like taking. 

When you cum, sweating and writhing in his arms, you clench tighter around Joel’s fingers than he knew was possible. He can feel your fucking heartbeat, and his hand isn’t even on your chest. 

You’re far away when Joel eases his fingers out of you. He manages to lay you down on the bed, cautious of your ribs. He starts to stand to get a washcloth to clean you up, but you grip his hand. 

“Please don’t go,” you tell him, vulnerable. “Please, Joel.”

Joel hates himself. Hates that he’s ever acted in some type of way that would make you think he would leave you when you need someone.

When you need him. 

“I’m just grabbing something to clean us up,” he promises, rubbing your knee. “We made a mess, darlin’.” You sag, relieved. 

Joel caves once he’s in the bathroom and out of your sight. He presses his fingers to his tongue, savoring your taste. He sucks his fingers off like a starved man, and can’t wait until he gets it straight from the source. 

~

There is hope after all. For you and Joel. You can tell because of the dull throb in your core. Joel’s half hard cock against your hip. The medicine in your packs by the door, the softness of Joel’s lips over the skin of your ribs. 

There is hope - always was. Even though you had to wait for it. 

[haddonfieldwhore]

dating ethan landry

nsfw mentioned briefly

this is garbage i’m sorry - not edited

🔪❗️SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6 ❗️🔪

🔪❗️SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6 BELOW❗️🔪

* your mutual friend anika introduced the two of you soon after you started college

* ethan was very shy and awkward when talking to you at first, but in an endearing way

* you had a few classes together and were both happy to know somebody / have someone to sit with

*

* chad immediately tries to set you two up together no matter how much ethan says you’re just friends

* studying in the library together

* sitting on a couch in the library, your legs in ethan’s lap as you both read your books or proofread each others essays/assignments

*

* the rest of the friend group figures out that you two like eachother before either of you do

* ethan would be nervous to ask you out, but one night at a party that chad had dragged the two of you along to, after a few drinks things started…. developing between you two

* the two of you were deserted by your friends and left alone in the kitchen with the alcohol, and a few shots later he finally gained the courage to kiss you

*

* sitting in ethan’s lap when there’s no room on the couch for everyone (and even when there is) >>>

* it just becomes your spot when hanging out with the group and no one questions it because they’re all waiting for the two of you to get together already

* he’s quite tall, so if your standing together he loves resting his chin in the top of your head/on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you from behind

*

* keeping your developing relationship a secret from everyone at first (his hand on your knee under the table in the library, flirty texting eachother when no one’s looking, walking behind everyone so you can hold hands)

* you both deciding it’s best to take things slow in case it doesn’t work out; not wanting to ruin your friendship

* you both fall hard though- your obsessed with eachother

*

* chad somehow not growing suspicious of how often you are coming over to their dorm to “study” with ethan (bless him)

* despite lack of experience before you, let’s just say ethan gets plenty of practice at certain…. extracurricular activities

*

* gently playing with his curls while he lays with his head in your lap

* not so gently tugging on them as his lips and teeth leave love bites across your neck and collarbones

* loves leaving his mark on you (bite marks, fingerprints, scratches, hickeys) even though you are still keeping the fact that you’re dating a secret

*

* leave scratches down his back- he goes feral

* not usually loud as not to alert chad to what’s really going on in his bedroom (it sure ain’t studying for econ) but will whisper the filthiest things in your ear

* he sometimes gets a little shy afterwards, his cheeks a light shade of pink as he holds you close

* assure him that he did a good job and he is fine though, kissing the top of your head as you both drift off to sleep

*

* you end up stealing ethan’s clothes all the time (it’s not your fault he ripped your shirt)

* or just waking up in his t-shirt after spending the night and not bothering to give it back

*

* once the ghostface attacks start happening, it obviously complicates things for ethan, since he does truly have feelings for you

* everyone finding out you’re together after you can’t help but pull ethan into a kiss when you reunite in the morning after the apartment attack

* ethan is just happy you made it out relatively unharmed, only a few very minor injuries (wonder why)

* mindy accusing and being suspicious of everyone but leaning hard on ethan puts a rift in your friendship with her

*

* being scared to die, but equally as scared to lose ethan

* staying at his dorm so you’re not alone and falling asleep in his arms, as he promises to protect you

“don’t worry, i won’t let anything happen to you.”

[literatureloverx]

Now i'm curious (from how you considered dazai's openness around chuuya "debatable") about how you consider chuuya and dazai's dynamic? I'm not presuming you think their connection isn't important or anything, or that you think dazai doesn't trust chuuya, but i'm interested in how you think dazai's openness around chuuya is debatable. I'm 50/50 on it too tbh, so maybe your analysis can give more insight :D

Sure, dear, let’s dive into it.❤️ This has become a grand analysis + my comments lmao. I hope you enjoy it!❤️

🩵~~~🩵~~~🩵

First of all, it’s important to note that I personally classify Dazai and Chuuya’s relationship as truly meaningful and admirable—but not in a romantic way.

I want to be clear that I don’t see their dynamic as romantic, which is where I differ from many Dazai x Chuuya shippers. This is exactly why this post will be very, VERY long.

Asagiri himself said that he understands where the Dazai x Chuuya ships are coming from and he definitely gets it, but he won’t make the ship canon because he doesn’t want to dishonour/disrespect the original authors.

So it is indeed very kind of the illustrators and the studio to still provide the fandom with “fan service material,” which is on one hand very thoughtful and kind, but on the other hand fuels toxic shippers and feeds their theories, which they accept as absolute facts. (I suppose they make much money from it no matter what they do, so why would they care, right?)

I’m not trying to demoralize anyone or diminish their character shipping preferences. Everyone is entitled to ship whoever they want, and I don’t want this post to come across as a hate post.

However, I don’t view these dynamics (or any ship in BSD) through rose-colored glasses but rather in a more realistic light.

Many ship blogs tend to romanticize nearly anything that fits their perception (and while I often understand where they’re coming from, I find their interpretations naive compared to other logical explanations), but I want to approach this from a perspective that stays as realistic and logical as possible.

So, I kindly ask those who are sensitive about their own opinions and perceptions to consider skipping this post, as I don’t intend to hurt anyone’s feelings.

A small reminder: you’re allowed to have your ship and preferences, but please don’t act like they are canon or the ultimate truth, or hate on those who don’t share your opinions. This is truly rude and disrespectful.

Wow, that intro was long, but it needed to be said. Now, let’s dive into it:

🩵~~~🩵~~~🩵

🩵~~~🩵~~~🩵

If we brush off the fan-service material of the scenes in Dead Apple (which we still don’t know if it is canon, and those specific scenes aren’t even incorporated into the light novel, I hear? I’m not sure about it, though; I haven’t read the light novel), what remains?

In my humble opinion, there is a great understanding between the two of them on a humane level, but their dynamic is double-edged.

So why did I consider Dazai’s openness around Chuuya "debatable"?

It starts with Dazai’s perspective. I once saw someone write (sadly, I have no idea where; sorry, I’m not good with past experiences and memories) that “Fyodor understands Dazai but doesn’t get him, and Chuuya gets Dazai but doesn’t understand him.”

I believe this thesis to be entirely true. The problem is that while Chuuya gets Dazai but doesn’t understand him, Dazai gets and understands Chuuya very well.

Let us move over to the 15 manga, if I recall correctly (lmao).

There was a scene where Dazai was ready to sacrifice a whole city just for Chuuya to find out his truth about humanity because it was bothering him on such a deep level.

Dazai could understand his feelings very well because he himself is also struggling with his own humanity.

Their dynamic is so meaningful because they are like two halves of an apple.

Dazai struggles with his humanity because he doesn’t feel human (the true reason behind it remains still unclear), but he is physically human.

Chuuya struggles with his humanity because he is physically inhuman, but he is still human with every fibre of his being.

I believe Dazai can see that as well, which leads him to believe that Chuuya is the most humane person he’s ever known.

This is entirely true. Chuuya embodies almost every aspect of a human so perfectly—with visible flaws (he is so gorgeous to me), emotions, impulses… (this aspect could be a whole other post, but I need to stick to the main point right now).

Does it matter that he is physically inhuman?

No, of course not. What truly matters is the inner persona of someone.

That is the exact aspect Dazai is struggling with. He feels empty, he feels inhuman because he lacks all those aspects Chuuya brims with.

I personally see admiration on Dazai’s part because Chuuya embodies the things he lacks perfectly.

We either admire people who are able to do or have the things we cannot, or we’re simply jealous or hateful. In Dazai’s case, he admires Chuuya; he is flabbergasted.

But wait… hate? How does this manifest in Dazai?

Remember how he said that he’s been trying to find a way to kill Chuuya for the past 7 years?

Well, first of all, I don’t believe he genuinely wants Chuuya dead. However, this statement could indeed be true (with Dazai, you never know if it is), because Chuuya embodies everything he is not.

He might have found solace in simply the imagination of getting rid of him, not truly trying to make it a reality. Because we all know—if Dazai wanted to, he would have.

The reason why he doesn’t want Chuuya truly dead? Well, isn’t it obvious? I believe from the bottom of my heart that he cherishes Chuuya. But not in a romantic way, because in the canon context, there is really no evidence of that.

You can find so many clues that suggest their bond is deep, heartfelt, and close. It is so beautiful, truly. Their bond is one of my personal favorites of all BSD relationships.

But the romantic side of it? There truly is none.

This is the common problem here. Just because their bond is very meaningful and deep, people find every opportunity and reason to make a romantic relationship out of those things because we sadly live in a world where meaningful relationships are not appreciated at all but simply put in a box called “romantic & sexual tension” (there speaks the INFJ). Most relationships are multifaceted, people.

However, I’m babbling too much. Let’s dive into Chuuya’s perspective:

Chuuya seems to be more aggressive towards Dazai, clearly and often declaring that he “hates” him. Does he now?

No. I don’t believe that he does.

I believe that he sees through Dazai’s antics and his void of self, which makes me think that he is rather feeling bad for him (compassionately). I know that Chuuya doesn’t seem to be the most empathetic person in all Bungo Stray Dogs universe, but I believe that he actually is quite empathetic; he just doesn’t show it much.

He tolerates Dazai’s unsettling aspects most of the time, even though he is short-tempered.

Speaking of him being short-tempered, this side of him shines even brighter at Dazai’s side. He is much calmer and composed around others.

I believe that this is: first, because he trusts Dazai that he has everything in control so that he can act more freely; second, that Dazai knows exactly how to push him into irritation, which makes him aggressive quite rashly.

I said this before when I described Chuuya’s ideal type, and I’ll say it again: Chuuya doesn’t hate Dazai, but rather the challenges he provides that unsettle him deeply.

Now, I’d like to point out another example: Remember when Chuuya hit Dazai, and Dazai said to him that it hurt and he is only a human too? Chuuya answers coldly, “no one would believe that” (again the 15 manga, I believe?).

This is the solace Dazai seeks from Chuuya. He helps Chuuya to see that he is indeed human and expects the same in return from him, which Chuuya doesn’t provide.

Chuuya, someone Dazai sees as the picture-perfect human, denies him his own humanity. That must hurt really, really bad.

This is exactly what I mean with “Chuuya gets Dazai but doesn’t understand him, while Dazai gets and understands Chuuya.”

Chuuya is unable to provide Dazai with solace because he is so fixed on his worry about the other people dying and struggling that he is unable to see that he hurts Dazai.

Which is ironic because not seeing what is in front of him is again, very Chuuya-like and very humane, after all.

We’re human; we may be impulsive, we make mistakes, we might hurt our friends and families.

And Dazai again is looming in shadows, lying almost dead on the sofa without a care how many people will die, which is again, very inhuman.

So, let me bring in another aspect:

Why did Dazai install a bomb in Chuuya’s car before he left the Port Mafia?

I believe it was his coping mechanism, as always. His cheerful, uncaring attitude he wears like a mask, his desperate attempt to show Chuuya he would’ve loved to get rid of him, but sadly he was lucky—once again. That stupid slug.

Chuuya is someone who Dazai cherishes, maybe not as much as Odasaku or even Atsushi, but he cares deeply for him. (This is initially why I thought that Dazai has a heart of gold, because he is able to cherish so many people so very deeply, and he himself isn’t even really aware of it, which is adorable to me.)

I read somewhere that those two are soulmates, and I believe that to be true also, but as I already said—not in a romantic or sexual way.

Remember when I said that I adore soulmate connections, not only the romantic ones but also the platonic ones? The relationship between Dazai and Chuuya seems to be exactly that to me. I love them and I love them as a duo as well.

So, as an addition, I’d like to speak about their unwavering trust in each other, which is one of the main aspects of their relationship and dynamic. Dazai trusts Chuuya because he knows that Chuuya understands his trust and has already plotted the entire situation with no errors whatsoever. Chuuya needs to play his part in order for Dazai’s plan to work out as intended.

The reason Dazai trusts Chuuya is quite simple: Chuuya is a truly trustworthy person. To work as partners, they need to establish a strong sense of trust, which plays out perfectly. They are both able to forget their quarrels and focus on the job at hand, making them unstoppable together. Chuuya is known for his loyalty; it is his most prominent personality trait. That is why Dazai trusts him so much, knowing that Chuuya also trusts him because he understands that Dazai never fails.

To Chuuya, Dazai is nothing short of a genius—a very strange one, that much is sure. He is well aware that Dazai is depressed and lacks many of the qualities Chuuya possesses naturally, but he doesn’t really judge him for it, as seen in his high tolerance for Dazai’s antics and childish manner.

In summary, their bond is truly admirable, deep, and very important. Please don’t diminish it by confining their relationship to a box of sexual and romantic feelings in a canon sense, as this simply cheapens their dynamic.

Create your ships, write your fanfictions, but please don’t be rude to others who don’t share your perspectives. It’s absolutely fine to disagree with my opinion and interpretation, but please be respectful to me and my dear followers.❤️

Reminder: Chuuya calls Dazai “Dazai”, just like the ADA members, which is his surname. This suggests distance. Dazai calls Chuuya not “Nakahara” which also would be his surname, but “Chuuya”, his given name, which suggests that he might disrespect Chuuya or not take him seriously, since Chuuya is actually older than Dazai. I’m not sure what to think about this fact, so I wanted to mention it but I had no idea what analysis I can make out of this.

[not-neverland06]

Ultraviolence

Previous part / Next part

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader A/N: Canon timeline? We don’t know her Summary: He’s not the man you remember. Maybe you’d never actually known who that man was. It doesn’t matter, you need to get away from him before he kills you or does worse.

Bud sits at the head of the table. You don’t know how he managed to get this room for your meeting. Most of the time it’s only used for potential investors or the higher ups. But you know he likes to use it because it makes him feel powerful to sit in the big chair. 

You sit beside him, Hank’s on the other side of him, all of the higher ranking Buds are. It ranges from junior execs to lower ranking administrative assistants. He wants to create the next few generations of super managers and this is who he’s starting with.

You met him when you were working with his company creating the power suits. You were the one that brought the concerns about the defects to him. And because you’d saved him from years of lawsuits and dropping stocks by getting him the hell out of there, he’d taken you on as his personal assistant. A better pay, but not a better job. 

When Vault-Tec had agreed to this plan of his for his triple set of vaults, he’d kept you as his personal right hand. But that doesn’t matter to the rest of the little corporate worker bees. They don’t think you earned your place here. And they think you’re a threat to their positions. 

You’d been under the misguided belief that it was common knowledge that Bud wasn’t truly grooming you to take over the vaults. He likes you and enjoys working with you. Squeezing you into this program was a favor and a way to keep you safe in the fallout. He only drags you to these meetings to keep a good cover as to why you’re supposedly a valuable asset. None of its real.

These people don’t respect you. They’re all buying into a baseless rumor that you slept your way here. Not true, ever. If you weren’t so inclined to saving your own ass you might even say that you would prefer the nuclear war zone to Bud’s bed. But honestly, those thirty seconds with him would probably be worth it to have a place in the promised land. 

At the very least, he’s not letting you go into this unprepared. He’s got you in the same training regime as the rest. The same classes on leadership during tumultuous and trying times. If you are one of the lucky few who gets to see the surface, you won’t be unprepared. 

The meeting has devolved from lessons on proper management to discussions on other vaults. “I heard in vault eleven they’re doing self elected sacrifices.”

You scoff, spinning a pen idly on the table before you and reclining lazily in your seat. “That’s ridiculous,” you object, “what’s the point?”

Steph shrugs and shakes her head, blonde curls idly bobbing by her ears. “I don’t know. I think a lot of the experiments are just for the sick satisfaction of the investors.” Everyone turns to Bud, wanting to see if he would divulge any information. 

He entertained you guys by letting you speculate on what the vaults might be, but he was pretty adamant on not sharing investor secrets. Instead of answering he smiles, “A hypothetical for you.” You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes. He might be kinder to you, but you had to show him the same respect everyone else did. You didn’t want to risk undermining him just because he didn’t have as strong a backbone when it came to you. 

Besides, you know he doesn’t like talking about the darker side of the vaults. He always tenses up when anyone mentions a particularly grisly experiment. It’s clear that what Vault-Tec is doing is evil. But what the investors are planning is even worse. At least Bud just wants to breed a bunch of corporate workers, some of these people are talking about killing kids and only letting the smartest reach adulthood. Sometimes, Bud doesn’t like to face the harsh reality of the company he endorses so eagerly.

“Betty,” his eyes scan the table and everyone perks up, hoping for an opportunity to prove themself. His eyes land on you and his face lights up. You try to shake your head subtly at him but he’s already speaking your name with a smile. 

These hypotheticals are tests, see who has the better solution to a vault conflict. It’s an unspoken rule that whoever has the right answer is more likely to be put in a position of power rather than just be a breeder. With Betty it’s lose-lose. You let her win and everyone here just further confirms that you don’t have what it takes. You win and the divide between you both just gets larger. 

You feel the eyes of everyone on you and try to ignore them by continuing to roll the pen against the table, blocking out their stares. 

“One of us gets off on the wrong foot with their new partner from the breeding vaults. What do you do?”

Betty speaks up quickly, “We reassign,” she blurts out, all confidence and smugness as she looks over at you. “If they don’t get along, they can’t facilitate the proper environment for a child. It’s best to just reassign them to another partner.”

Bud hums, jotting something down on his notepad and looks at you. He says your name, prompting you to speak. “Once a partner’s assigned, there’s no going back. It’s up to the overseer to facilitate conversation between the two and find the root of the problem. It’s up to us,” you look at your peers and grin, “to be better than them. If we can’t get along with our partner it’s a poor reflection on us and Bud. Ultimately, it’s our job to fix the issue with conversation and if that doesn’t work, well,” you smile at Bud, “a little extra Calmex in their Sugar Bombs never hurts.”

Betty’s face falls as Bud smiles at you in return and you know you’ve won. “Correct! We’re meant to be raising the best of the best for our future. That means that petty squabbles get left behind. And I need strong leaders.” 

Bud grows serious, staring down the table at you all. “One’s who aren’t afraid of compromising their principles.”

He yanks her to her feet, fisting his hand in the collar of her blue suit dragging her up harshly. Her eyes widen with shock, looking him up and down. “Cooper?” She shakes her head like she’s trying to reset it and his mouth turns down into a frown. Her mouth flops open and closed obnoxiously. “I thought when I saw you that I was going insane. That I’d finally had a heat stroke. But it’s really you isn’t it?” 

She reaches forward like she’s going to touch him and he steps back with a harsh scoff. There’s a distant sort of wonder to her voice that has him gritting his teeth. Few things have kept him going these past two hundred odd years. Two of the main motivators; spite and hate. And he holds a hell of a lot for her. 

“In the flesh,” he grins, only getting angrier when she looks at his yellowed teeth with disgust. Not everyone had the luxury of hiding out in the vaults like a fucking coward. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” The question is blunt, no class or grace about it. She’s clearly caught off guard by the sight of him. He’s sure it's jarring to see the man who she’d left for dead still alive. Frankly, he’s only getting more pissed off by her reaction. 

He honestly thought that she was dead. He figured after she’d screwed the pooch with him that they’d gotten rid of her. And at one point, the thought of her death had saddened him slightly. They’d been close, about to breach something that would have ruined him as a married man and compromised his morals. But she’d lied to him and he was long past sadness, the only thing he felt now was a stark disappointment that she was still fucking breathing. 

“Nuclear fallout happened.” He growled, grabbing her by the rope looped around her waist and yanking her forward. She yelped, stumbling into his chest and trying to tug herself back from him. “Don’t you remember? It was your people who pushed the button.”

She smirks, a cruel tilt to her lips that makes him want to beat her to the ground. “If I remember correctly, it was your wife who pushed the button.”

He looks her up and down. There’s a burning rage building in him, this overwhelming desire to just take out his gun and riddle her pretty body with bullets. He’s damn near desperate to see what her blood looks like painting the forest floor. But he has to have patience, he’s got use for her yet. 

He lifts the rope up, smiling at the relieved look on her face, before drawing it around her neck and tightening it. She wheezes, hands shooting up to try and loosen it. He tuts, patronizing, grabbing her wrists harshly and yanking her forward so he can tie those too. She tries to say something, he doesn’t care what, but all that comes out is a strangled gasp for air. 

He tugs on the rope a few times, smiling at the way she winces at the pull, before dragging her through the forest. He’d love to just get this over with here and be done with her. But he needs to get away from Filly before the Knight calls for backup from the brotherhood. They’re not exactly big fans of him and he doesn’t need any more trouble than he’s already got. 

With her in his grasp, he forgets all about the bounty left behind in Filly. And the girl who’d been with her. 

“Is it true?” Hank runs in front of you, stopping you from going any further. You let out a rough sigh, glaring at him. 

“Is what?” You snap, moving around him and continuing towards the elevator. You’re going to be late meeting Bud at the studio if Hank decides he feels like being chatty today. You don’t want to make a bad first impression with your new boss. 

You don’t resent the idea of being an assistant as much as you thought you would. You were Bud’s assistant, but he didn’t really count. He wasn’t much of a boss and the tasks he had for you were menial. Most of your time was taken up by your training anyway. The only part bothering you about all this was the worry that your new boss might not be very agreeable.

He catches up with you, looking incredibly excited. “Bud’s really assigning you to Cooper Howard?” You huff out a laugh, nearly forgetting that Hank is just as smitten with Cooper as Bud is. Your heels clack against the tile as he keeps stride with you. You stop in front of the elevator, glancing over at him while you click the button. 

It opens quickly and you both step inside, even though you know he doesn’t need to actually use it. He fiddles with his tie, doing more damage than good. You roll your eyes and step forward, straightening it out for him. “Yes,” you mutter, fixing the knot. “I’m working with Mr. Howard from now on. Barbara thinks I’m expendable enough to be assigned to him.”

Hank glances down at you, patting your hand as you step back. “You’re not expendable,” he tries to reassure. 

You give him a grateful smile and shrug. “That’s sweet, Hank, but we both know I am. I don’t have any qualms about it. I’m just hoping he’s not one of those Hollywood assholes who thinks everyone needs to worship the ground he walks on.”

Hank shakes his head, expression in vehement disagreement. “No way, he’s my idol. Have you seen him in A Man and His Dog? Oh, and that line of his ‘feo, fuerte y formal.’” You blow out a long breath, idly clicking the first level button again, hoping it might speed this up. Hank chuckles, “Sorry, I’ve been talking Betty’s ear off about this all week. I almost wish Bud had assigned me to him.”

You don’t bother with telling him that he’s sorely lacking the assets that make you so well suited for the job. The elevator stops, doors slowly sliding open and you all but leap out of it. “You’ve got more important things to do here, Hank. I’ll try and get you an autograph,” he lights up at this. 

“Trust me,” you turn to look at him, giving him a slight smile. “Never meet your heroes.”

You’re tied up to a tree, the rope around your neck still wrapped around his fist. You eye it warily, waiting for him to yank on it again. He keeps doing that, randomly tugging on it and causing the burns around your neck to worsen. “I’ve got ways of making you speak, darling. You’re only making this worse for yourself.”

You glare at him, undeterred by his ‘torture.’ “You know another way of making someone talk?” His head tilts in question and you scoff, “Fucking asking a question.” He’s had you here for you don’t even know how long. Blood is steadily starting to form around the burns on your neck. Everytime you inhale it feels like you’re brushing an exposed nerve. And through all of this, he hasn’t asked you one damn thing. 

He just keeps tugging that goddamn rope and giving you this expectant look like you’re meant to read his mind. He’s already rifled through your bag, stolen your guns, and dropped all of your supplies onto the forest floor. You don’t know what he’s looking for but clearly it wasn’t in there. Or he’s just being a dick. 

This was not at all how you thought your reunion with him was going to go. One, because you’d never thought there would be a reunion. And, two, you don’t remember him being such a sadistic asshole. Then again, if he’s been out here as long as you think he has, you’re lucky he’s not worse. 

You still can’t believe it, that he’s alive. Even if he is a ghoul now, it’s a miracle your paths ever crossed. Well, maybe a curse, karmic justice on your part. He leans forward, elbows propped up on his knees and you find yourself leaning in to meet him. He grins, the curl of his lips cruel and lacking any sort of warmth. It’s enough to have you pressing your back against the trunk of the tree again. 

He doesn’t appreciate that, though, and tugs you forward once more. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but you can’t help it. You hiss in pain, burning tears building up on the rim of your eyelids as you glare at him. “How’s this, sweetheart, where’s my fucking family?” The last two words are bordering on a shout, full of an anger you’ve never heard from him before. 

It’s enough to cause you to flinch back in surprise. Then, you laugh. “Family?” You question, tone sarcastic and bordering on cruel, “What fucking family?” The noise grates further on his nerves and the look on his face causes you to laugh harder. He darts forward, fast as a whip, and grabs your throat, shoving you back against the tree. 

You grin up at him, ignoring how much the leather of his glove hurts the raw skin on your neck. “I don’t know. How would I?”

He grins, “You were Buck’s favorite little cocksucker weren’t you?”

You scoff, lips curling down in disgust. “Bud,” you spit out, not helping your case. “And that was above my fucking pay grade jackass.” 

God, didn’t you used to love him? Wasn’t that the whole reason your relationship never worked with your husband? You’re really not feeling any of the love right now. Apparently, neither is he, his hand tightens to the point your vision turns black. Shadows start to crawl into the corners of your eyes and you can feel them starting to roll. Your limbs flail out in a discoordinated panic as air becomes harder to come by. 

After a minute he finally releases you, backing off and sitting back down on the log across from you. You fall forward, hands clawing at your throat as you take in deep gasping breaths. Your heart beats so violently inside your throat that you worry it’s going to rip through the skin. 

You struggle to get upright again, still panting when you finally look at him again. He’s no longer smiling, just staring blankly at you while he waits for you to get it together. “So,” you start, voice a rough croak that has you gritting your teeth at the sound. “Still pining after Barb, huh?” His eye twitches briefly at her name but he doesn’t react otherwise. “You know,” your hands lower towards your boots but he doesn’t catch the movement. “From what I remember she was a fucking bitch. Maybe you should just move on, I heard she did, real quick.”

You’re goading him, trying to get him angry again. You’re not sure it works until he lunges at you. Your lips pull up in a cruel grin, hands shooting out before he can catch onto what you’re doing. Your knife, the one you keep strapped to your boot, is buried in his throat. You jerk the rope out of his hand as blood dribbles over his lips. His eyes are wide with shock as you smile up at him. You rip the knife out, mouth closed against the arterial spray that follows. 

You don’t have time to grab your bag or untie your wrists. Ghouls heal fast, faster than you’d like. You leap off the log, over his body, and take off through the forest. You’re careful not to trip, you’ve still got your knife in your hand and you don’t heal nearly as fast as him. All you hear is the gurgle of death as he chokes on his own blood, but the sound quickly fades the further you go. 

You risk a glance at your wrist, trying to get a better look at the map on your Pip-Boy but there’s no point. You won’t be able to find Lucy or a way out of this right now. The best you can do is run and hope you manage to stumble across her. 

You should have planned this out better. You should have done this in a way where you could have taken your supplies with you. As it was, you don’t think he was going to present many chances to you. You genuinely know nothing about where Barb was. It truly was above your pay grade and it was information she never wanted to share with you. You have a feeling she’d caught on to how you felt about her husband and wanted you as far from him as possible. 

Without this information to offer him, you were useless. There was clearly no love lost with him and you doubted he would keep you around much longer. You just needed to get out before he decided he really did believe that you had nothing to offer. 

“How do you like it?”

You glance up at Bud and give him a terse smile, he eagerly waits for your answer. You finish chewing and force down the driest piece of chicken you’ve ever had the misfortune of eating. “It’s good, Bud. Did you,” you hesitate to finish, worry it will come out bitchier than you mean it to. “Did you make it?” You stumble over the words, voice rising in pitch to try and keep the dislike out of your voice. 

He nods, sawing so hard into his own piece that the table shakes slightly. “Yep,” he pops the ‘P’ with a proud smile directed at you. He dips the chicken into some ketchup and you watch in awe as he pops it in his mouth. He seems completely unbothered by the lack of flavor and juices. This man should never be allowed in the kitchen again. 

Bud clears his throat and you brace yourself. It’s not uncommon for you to be at his place for dinner. Normally, the food has been cooked by a professional, but he never invites you over without a reason. You’ve been wondering why you’re here since you arrived. 

He placed his fork down on his plate and leaned back in his chair. He gives you a smile that’s meant to be disarming but only puts you further on your guard. Bud might be able to hide behind his goofy grin and facade of incompetence, but you see what really lurks under the surface. 

He’s just as greedy as everyone else in Vault-Tec. For fuck’s sake, he’s planning to have two vaults of people that are just there to be bred. He wants to create an army of micro-managers to efficiently rule the world. He would do anything to carve out a place for himself in the future. To make a name for himself. And just like any other man he wants his name to have weight, meaning, power. 

It’s what this whole experiment of his comes down to. A hierarchy of power that all leads back to him. The people in the two vaults, the cattle as Bud’s Buds have come to call them, answer to their overseers. The overseers appear to have final say in all decisions, but it truly all loops back to Bud. He’s created a world for himself where he is almighty, a practical god to those in the vaults. They’ll never even know that every decision they make, every happiness or low point they experience, has all been orchestrated by him. 

Him being Bud, the man with the least intimidating persona you’ve ever met. Maybe that’s how he’s made it so far. Everyone underestimates an idiot. 

“How has it been going with Cooper?” Even now there’s a pitch to his voice that betrays his excitement every time he mentions Mr. Howard. You know Mr. Howard wants you to call him Cooper, or, as he’s insisted, Coop. You can’t do it, though, everytime you call him by his first name you fall deeper into your crush. 

You can’t be blamed for it. You spend everyday with him, you’re by his side more often than you’re on your own. Anyone in close proximity to him that often would start to fall for him too. You’ve been trying to convince yourself it’s just guilt presenting in odd ways but you know that’s bullshit. You’re slowly falling for him and you feel awful about it. 

Everyday you’re getting closer to just blurting out the truth. But you know the consequences of that. Not only will Barb get rid of you, most likely kill you to keep Vault-Tec’s secrets, you’ll be screwing over Mr. Howard. If he learns about what his wife is up to, the sickness that lurks behind that pearly smile, he’ll never forgive her. He can kiss his place in the vaults goodbye. You’d be condemning the both of you to death. 

You need to rid yourself of this unfortunate crush. There are at least one hundred and twenty two vaults, and those are only the ones you know about. Who knows how many the higher ups are keeping from the rest of you? You’ll never see him again after this and you need to come to terms with that. 

“He hasn’t been asking me much about the company. I think he’s assuaged for now, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up, though.”

Bud sets you with a stern glare and you straighten up, face falling into a mask of indifference. “Why’s that?” The tone of his voice tells you he knows exactly why you’re struggling. But he wants you to deny it, to prove him wrong. You know Bud likes to look out for you, but he isn’t just flippantly providing you with a place in the world. 

This whole thing with Cooper is one big test. He only wants those who aren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty. Leadership requires sacrifice and sometimes doing things you don’t want to do. 

You shrug, “He’s a bit of a wildcard. Not as easily malleable as Barb made him out to be. I think she underestimates him.” You reach to take another bite of the chicken but change your mind at the last second and sip some water instead. It’s a weak attempt at stalling but Bud lets you have it.

“I have faith in you.” You glance down at your hands and Bud calls out your name, forcing you to meet his gaze again. “If anyone can do this, it’s you. I’ve never met someone more inclined to self preservation.”

There’s a glint in his eyes, an underlying threat to his words. You swallow harshly, grip tightening around the glass until you feel like it might shatter. If you mess this up there’s not going to be a second chance. 

You nod your head, “I’ll keep him under control. It’s not hard to leash a man when you’ve got something he wants,” the insinuation isn’t lost on him. He nods, picking up his fork and beginning to eat again. 

You can’t do the same, you’ve lost your appetite and it’s not because of his cooking. You’re not sure what Cooper will do to you if he ever finds out the truth but you know it won’t be pretty. 

He rolls over onto his side, hand peeling away from his throat and eyes widening at the glossy sheen of blood over the leather. “Fuck,” he hisses, testing out the damage done to him. Nothing too bad, just a hoarse voice that would probably work itself out within the hour. 

It’s not her stabbing him that has his blood boiling with rage. It’s the audacity she has to even attempt hurting him. He can’t know for sure whether or not she knew he would survive that. He has to assume she wouldn’t, there’s no way she’s met a ghoul before. 

Leaving him for dead once wasn’t good enough, she needed to kill him herself this time. Spiteful fucking bitch. She’d always been like that, it had just taken him too long to see it. Seems like he has a type, women who only ever look out for themselves. 

There was a look in her eyes, one he’s seen a million times before. She’s got a fight

 in her, the same selfish spirit that kept her alive for so long. God help anyone who gets in her way, she would always pick herself first. 

He rubs at the skin of his neck, wiping off the rest of the blood and laughing humorlessly. He wants to see that light go out. He wants to watch as she loses her fight. He wants to be the one that does it. Break her so thourhougly that she gives up all hope. And when she does, when there’s nothing left for her, he’ll set her loose in the world and let it have its turn ripping her apart. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[cutseys0ulxx]

HI I CAN NEVER FIND KASHIMO WRITERS 😿😿

can you write a sfw alphabet of him pls 😿🙏

i’m begging 😿😿🙏🙏

why hello there 🌝

ignore typos if any 🚶🏽‍♀️

Ty for requesting 🤗🤗!!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Kashimo is type of person who is affectionate only around you but hates to show that side of him. Once he found out that you really didn’t care, he is all over you. Hajime doesn’t open up to any and everyone. But you, he feels the complete opposite. So he’s miserable every-time you held him in your arms or vice versa. He loves you so much, it just took him awhile of how to properly show it. Truly and deep down- he’s all yours. Whether it’s to cuddles or play-fighting. Kashimo can’t ever get enough of you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The friendship was weird with him since he wasn’t really the type of person to have friends. Hajime believed that friendships were only a something to get in his way, but when he met you he felt so different. Therefore he became attached to you. Kashimo loved your presence, and his heart only grew bigger for you overtime. As a friend, he’s a really interesting and entertaining person to have around. He can easily make your entire day just like you make his. (Is the listener to your yapper, or moon to your sun 🥹.)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He doesn’t do it too often, but when he does, thats it. You never even see them coming. He’ll just wrap your arms around you and do whatever he wants from there. Although it’s so sudden, he is so precious. Kashimo will praise any little thing about you while his arms are wrapped around your waist. Inhaling your scent as his head lays comfortably on your chest. Always expect it when he is tired, or moody. All he would want is just to melt in your touch. Oh and talk to him. Tell him stories, anything. Your voice is angelic. He could listen to it all day.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Best believe Hajime would help you out if he knew how to. It doesn’t help that he’s constantly on his feet as a sorcerer. Kashimo isn’t used to doing all the stuff since he wasn’t too much of the expectation back in his day besides being one of the strongest sorcerers and yata yata. That definitely won’t prevent him from giving you a hand. He’s not the best cook, and you have to teach him how to sweep. (😭) You just have to held his hand a little bit, and Kashimo gets the hang of it.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Hajime would be shattered. It feels impossible to have to make it without you. In the over a hundred years of his life you were his first and his best partner. You gave him a great experience and he hates to let it go. Kashimo always tells himself that he’ll never find anyone like you. Thats why he was single for so long, so he never forgets you. He can’t even if he tried. No matter how hard he tries he just can’t. It’s almost like you’re still there when he misses you most.. And it won’t be anytime soon he’ll be moving on.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It won’t be immediately that he will ask. Honestly it’s not the first thing on his mind, possibly the last, but he for sure thinks of it. He has to be absolutely positive that you’re both willing to be engaged before he proposes. The same goes for him. Just a heads up it will take awhile. As long as you’re fine with it and he is certain he wants to do it, then he might just consider it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

The last thing Kashimo will ever do is hurt you. He will take the pain himself and endure it for you every-time you are hurt if he be able to. He’s protective with you enough for even the minority of things, how could he hurt you himself? Besides that point, he is extremely careful with you. As if you’re something fragile or delicate. (you are in his eyes) Every-time he gets mad at something or even you he always makes sure to distance himself to keep him from doing anything stupid. If he had ever come to hurt you he would hate himself for the rest of his life.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Tight hugger and strong one. He doesn’t do it on purpose, sometimes. Any other time it’ll just be something simple. For example, In public Hajime will wrap his arm around your shoulders. When you two are somewhere more private he’ll pick you up and forces your legs around his waist. Hugging you like you’re going somewhere. In simple words Kashimo is a great hugger. Whether he’s gentle or aggressive.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

If i’m completely honest here you most likely said it first. But it didn’t take him long to realize that he Did love you. He just terrified to tell you with his own words. You could reject him- or anything. Poor baby was constantly in his own head. Questioning why you made him feel this way. Kashimo, after a very long while would tell you… Very long while. He didn’t even know that you figured, there were too many signs not to see for yourself. That’s probably another reason why you would have to speak on it first, unless you’re really patient.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ohhh boyy.. He can get pretty possessive. Will give you the nastiest side eye when you speak to other people. Totally denies it when you bring it up. Plays along like he’s slick or plays stupid. “What are you talking about?” or “Pfft. Why would I be jealous.” He says proudly knowing damn well he’s trying with all his might not to punch the closest thing to him. (Excluding you 🙁) Will admit to it after like a week?? Claims he didn’t like how a guy talked to you all buddy-buddy. You just shake your head and laugh at him, only making him pout even more. (You owe him.)

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kashimo’s kisses are like a box of chocolate. Loves to kiss you wherever his eyes can guide him to first. Is like major with little smooches and will do it constantly. Until you give him one back. That makes him stop in a heartbeat. You found out his cheek is his weak-spot, one time you left a lipgloss stain and it drove him crazy. He loves loves loovvess your kisses and always craves them after a long day. They are like some type of reward. Every-time your soft lips find a way to his skin, ugh his heart aches. Will also give the sweetest and most passionate kisses ever. To a smooch, to colliding his tongue with yours.

L = Little ones (How are they around children? He pretends kids are annoying. Little does he know, you see the way he is with children himself. Hajime is a big kid at heart himself, you just have to push him to that limit. Though he will never ever admit it unless you bring it up first. Overtime he is no longer ashamed of it, he couldn’t hide it even if he attempted. End of discussion- Kashimo is such a sweet-pea with kids. To babies, toddlers, pre teens or even teenagers. (Off topic like extremely… but will ask for one sooner or later.)

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Not a morning person. Will sleep all day and stay up all night. You got him go change his schedule and ever since then he loves waking up to your beautiful face. If you’re not up by the time he is, which is usual because he wakes up early, he’ll rest you in his embrace and fall back to sleep. Once he learns how to cook he’ll serve you every like two times a week with breakfast. Will eat andd do your morning routine with you. (Skin care with him is so awesome :3) Loves nothing more than to spend nice and sunny mornings with you, It’s one of the best ways to start his day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Night owll!! Will always think of something to do with you before bed. Movie nights, make dinner or even just cuddle with you. Whatever you want to do. Due to having to battle constantly, he doesn’t get to spend too much time with his love. When he comes home late at night Kashimo uses time very wisely the moment he steps through your door. Sometimes you’re asleep by the time he arrives, so he just lays next to you comfortably. Would probably scare you in the morning but would also love to see how your face would light up.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It took him awhile to express whatever he would feel with you. It’s very rare to know how he feels, Hajime has to really trust you. When he gets to venting it’s like he’ll never stop. Like I said, you’re one of many people he’ll ever open up to. Hell you might be the only person that only ever hears what Kashimo truly feels. You can tell when Hajime is feeling down.. So when you mention it Kashimo just gives in and squirms like a big baby. He can get real emotional, you’ll see him cry once in a very blue bright neon moon. You (hopefully 👁️👁️.) reassure him it’s okay to feel that kind of way. Thats what he loves about you, knowing that you’ll always be there for him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Is inpatient. I’m not even gonna lie to you he can’t be patient if it saved his own life. With you though, thats a different story. He could be all day with you. You push the hell out his buttons sometimes, but he could never hate you so he just deals with it. He loves you so you can take your sweet time with him and he doesn’t care all that much. Hajime knows that you’re patient with him 24/7 so thats a way he could pay you back. It can even be a little challenging for him , due to having very little patience. At the end of the day he doesn’t mind. You’re lucky he loves you so much.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He will notice the smallest things about you. It’s almost everyday you catch him studying you like something special and sacred, you don’t even have to ask him to memorize numerous of things about you. Your appearance or things you like, you just in general are like an image he can’t get out of his head. Any thing about you is like a puzzle he can solve easily without even trying too hard. It is almost weird how well his memory can be. Not that you complain. Kashimo forgets nothing about you and will always please you when you’re bored with things you like to do. Or notice that you changed your hair or makeup. Will question it but doesn’t mind. Likes anything you like, and loves when you try something new.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Speaking of pleasing you when you’re bored. Sharing moments with you are so magical to him. Especially when doing something you enjoy, Hajime can’t get enough of how much fun you have when he takes you out. He doesn’t have a specific favorite scenario with you. Kashimo can’t choose which was his favorite. He does like watching the stars with you, the both of you do it quite often. Your eye sparkle like they are stars themselves. You’re such a beautiful view late a night. You are always glowing even in the darkest of times throughout the day.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Doesn’t care about himself. That has never been his concern. You come first, every single time. Would die for you, would kill for you. He can’t stand to see you hurt. With him around, you probably never have to worry about ever having the tiniest of scratches ever. Kashimo will go Limits beyond limits just to make sure you’re safe. Will drop everything he is doing just for you. He won’t keep you in a cage or anything, but is just cautious and afraid to lose you. It’s a dangerous world out there. Maybe will let you go out, all he asks is to not go alone and make sure it’s with someone he can trust. (Hajime is not trying to bother you. He just would hate to lose you or see you injured and would blame himself for eternity.)

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Is so cute. Like the cutest. It’s the thought that counts with him. Hajime puts his heart into his efforts and you know he does. “I know it’s not perfect” Type guy. Really, you adore his little attempts on satisfying you. You can always just ask too, if you wanna be left alone the entire day, no problem. You want to stay with him all day and enjoy quality time together? No need to even ask twice. Is hard working already in general, he just doesn’t know when to quit when it comes to you. The outcome won’t always be the biggest or greatest but he tried. Kashimo appreciates you and will show you it even if it’s a little crappy. Gives you hand-made gifts. Thinks they’re cuter. In which, his paper flowers are always better than real ones in your eyes. Dates or anniversaries? Will take you both to your favorite spot, or wherever you want to go. If you want to lay on bed all day, go ahead. Won’t do a so great job on tidying up.. But again, it’s the thought that counts.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Hajime is stubborn, too stubborn for his own good and loves to fight. He has this thing with fighting and being victorious. You scold him about it constantly. Always searching for people stronger than him. It gets him hurt in the process, you don’t understand how he could be so addicted to it? Kashimo plays with fire constantly and its dangerous, life threatening. You know that he is strong. That means nothing less from him being a Mortal. You hate how he plays with his own life, it was just something regular for him? You get concerned sometimes and tell him to just stop. Knocking sense into his thick skull. It died down overtime, he only did it for you. But he’s so use to it he can’t even help himself. It never fully left and won’t be going anywhere but will try.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Between you two, he hates his hair. It gets in the way of battle. And how soft his face can look. It makes him look less intimidating. Thats pretty much it, he claims he doesn’t really care but you know it bothers him. You talk to him about it and you made him feel confident. (like vro you’re a pretty boy?) He doesn’t like talking about it because he thinks being insecure is just foolish, especially over ‘stupid’ things. But you also helped that you tell him how handsome he is and now he looks at himself with pride. You made him a lot more comfortable in his own skin. He smiles every-time he looks in his reflection, knowing you would praise his looks. Kashimo still asks himself how he got so lucky with someone like you.. But thats beside the point. He thanks you for making him feel better about his features.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Is miserable and hates being departed from you. He is still not used from being separated from you even when he is constantly away. Dealing with curses and who knows what. All he thinks of is you, if you’re okay, if you miss him like he misses you, the list goes on. Or even when you two get into arguments, he apologizes the very next day. All it takes him is a little less than twenty-four hours to see how vulnerable he truly is when you’re not with him. You’re his other half and it physically and mentally hurts him when you’re not there. Hajime cannot stand it, that feeling he gets when your company isn’t invading him. He knew it was dangerous but he would invite you to missions, missing you that much. It was always your decision. You never had to come if you didn’t want to.. Kashimo would just enjoy your support.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Is a total brat- like imagine him pouting when something doesn’t go his way. Acts all high mighty and stuff when all it took you was to snap your fingers and force him to behave. Putting him in his place, telling him that he acted like a child. Puts his head down in shame. (walk him like a dog sis) For sure has a little bratty attitude too, but just think of playing his little games with him. Fumbling him with no second thought as his pitifully goes silent. Kashimo doesn’t know if he hates it or likes it. The fact that you know how to work him when he starts acting all moody, it’s.. Interesting. He swears he can’t stand you sometimes. Hajime loves it. Or hates it.. He still doesn’t know. Knows for a fact he finds it quite pleasing. Thats for sure.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I can totally see Kashimo despising a cheater. Hajime hates when you talk to other people for a reason, that exact reason in-fact. You would break his heart and he would never forgive you. And I mean never. Thats what a relationship is for, he trusted you and you’re willing to do that like it’s nothing..? No thanks. Will not tolerate that one bit. It would break his heart but refuses to deal with that. If you’re willing to do it once what makes him look stupid enough to think you won’t do it twice. Or several times? Loses the trust right then and there. Nope- just absolutely not.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Needs to hold something, anything. Tosses and turns if something is not in his touch. As soon as you scotch to him and allow him to wrap his arm around you, he’s a rock. Still drools and snores or whatever but is stiff. You would think he is dead if you didn’t pay that much attention. You love snuggling with him, but the worse part about it is you’re stuck. Every movement you make he pulls you in closer and tighter. Not allowing you to go anywhere even when he is unconscious. You sadly have to punch him awake or something like that to wake him up. That would be your only escape. Groans and looks at you cluelessly with an eyebrow raised. Falls asleep not even thirty seconds later. You just sigh, he wakes up early so you just have to suffer a little bit longer.

idk if a sfw alphabet for our glorious princess exists. Glad to be the first person to it 🫦

i haven’t done kashimo in awhile lordie 😫. Anywayss im back and im alive luvs