#He was really popular because he was allowed to be as rude to customers as he wanted and some people are just really into that
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Jerk Ford AU: Tumblr Thirst
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Jerk Ford: ...
Jerk Ford: That's the worst you've got? I've heard worse from drunk housewives when I worked at Space Hooters. Stan: *off screen* You what?
Jerk Ford: It was the dodge the draft, Stanley.
Stan: ?!?
[Art by @tearosepedall]
I know most of these comments are not thirsty, it's people just liking Jerk Ford. But I thought this would be funny.
Because of his friendship exposure to Anti-Ford, Jerk Ford is pretty up to date with a lot of modern internet slang and pop culture.
As for: can you ship whatever with Jerk Ford? I mean, I'm not a cop... but you have to remember this man is awful, and any romantic/sexual relationship he gets into is always going to be for nefarious purposes on his end. He is a homewrecker on principle who catfished an actual God because he thought it would be funny.
If anyone wants to like include Jerk Ford into their fanfic, art, AU, whatever, you could just shoot me a message and ask.
People, please, you can do better than this guy. Way better.
#Jerk Ford AU#Jerk Ford#That's right Jerk Ford worked in Space Hooters to dodge the draft#He was really popular because he was allowed to be as rude to customers as he wanted and some people are just really into that#He made a lot of money too probably more than any of his twelve PhDs got him excluding the 100k grant#Stanley makes him swear to never speak of that again#Stanford Pines#Ford Pines#Grunkle Ford#Stanley Pines#Stan Pines#Grunkle Stan#gravity falls#gravity falls au
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What do fairies eat
Fairies love eating plants! Lots of veggies and salads, plus random plants and leaves. It's a nod to both their insect DNA and the fact that a lot of Fairies shapeshift into animals, so some people think it's rude to offer guests animals to eat.
That said, small mammals are popular foods. There's a lot of bird-eating in my 'fics because, uh... birds don't fall off the edge of the clouds :')
Larger game such as deer do exist, but they're usually on Plane 7 (the Wanderplains) and the characters I write don't go there often (It's where Cosmo went when told to "get lost" in "Fairly Odd Baby").
?? I guess unicorns are technically game animals, but Fairies definitely don't hunt them for cultural reasons akin to Da Rules. Anti-Fairies don't have an issue with it, though... although in "Not All the Same," Anti-Wanda told Anti-Cosmo he looked more ruffled than a fruit bat on a unicorn's carcass, so take that as you will.
Binky and Jorgen indulged on a lot of sweet treats when they were disguised as humans in the "Swim" Prompt.
Anti-Fairies, who struggle growing nutritious plants in their world, eat a lot of meat, especially birds. The animals they can hunt aren't great since the leaves don't grow well without the sun, but they'll eat whatever they can get (Ex: Anti-Wanda's roadkill critter cake).
Prior the War of the Angels, the Anti-Fairies relied on the magical bottomless cauldron of the Dagda, which could spawn food, but Anti-Cosmo lost it during the war.
Fairies tend to eat fast and get out while Anti-Fairies settle in for large, long meals. A lot of Anti-Fairies struggle to get enough food (especially since their species doesn't need food to live, so sometimes people just skip meals and grow steadily weaker). The polite thing to do is offer food to a guest if you have enough to spare.
This is one of the things H.P. finds annoying... Anti-Cosmo (and his predecessor) always give him food when he visits, and their meals take forever.
It's worth noting that Anti-Fairies drink a lot of wine and Fairies drink a lot of water or milk. Canonically, Fairies get drunk/hungover from candy and soda ("Power Pals"), which I've always interpreted as sugar and carbonation, so these societies prefer low-sugar drinks as opposed to juice.
The "Shadow" Prompt depicts Hiccup (Foop's alternate personality) going to lunch with Anti-Wanda at a traditional Anti-Fairy dining establishment, where we see hints of their food-serving culture (youth deferring to elders, so Hiccup is taken aback when Anti-Wanda offers him the last scone against protocol).
We also learn there's a tradition that the High Countess, in honor of the very first High Countess who was paralyzed and fed by her partner, isn't allowed to touch certain foods with "hands, magic, or utensils" and is supposed to be fed by close kin, and no one can eat until she's done. Anti-Wanda is uncomfortable with all that attention and pressure, so she dodges that custom by eating with her feet.
Foop & Hiccup think their mum is so dang smart... They really look up to her and it's important to me <3
Pixies eat soy, plus a lot of grains like oatmeal and cereal. However, all pixies are deathly allergic to honeywheat (because they're clones of H.P.); there's an upcoming scene in Origin of the Pixies where Anti-Cosmo is mad at him and serves him honeywheat rolls at a special banquet. H.P. catches on and screws him over by going to eat the roll anyway, so Anti-Cosmo lunges forward in a panic to save his life... and is forced to admit to everyone he just tried to poison his friend.
The anti-pixies are based on fruit bats, so they eat a lot of fruit. I'm pretty sure there's a gingerbread cave near them ("Clash With the Anti-World"), but I forget right now if I have that next to the Pixies or anti-pixies in my worldbuilding.
The common fairy subspecies share their biology with dragonflies, which are carnivores. They have to eat meat, which Cosmo's great at doing!
From his teen years up, Poof punishes himself by cutting meat out of his diet as much as he can without dying. It's not healthy for him, but he started doing it after crashing Cosmo's car in "Repeat;" I love this scene:
"Hey, Poofster. Come out where I can see you. You know I'm no good at hide-and-seek." Poof slunk around the desk, and Cosmo drank him in for the first time. His whole face had brightened pinker than a plum. He clenched Dusty's wand between both hands, knees curled almost to his chest. Where had Dusty gone off to, even? Odd. With slow beats of his wings, he drifted over to where Cosmo floated above the tile. "I'm not really sure what happened here, but I'm kind of broken up about this, Poof. Darla was handmade and perfect. Replacing her parts year past year was super expensive for me. Now she'll have to be a magical car, and that's gonna cause a lot of problems on magical roads. We'll have to pay extra fees because of that and get extra license restrictions now. We can't drive her some places in the cloudlands, even to her favorite mountain spots. And never, ever take her to the lakes. How are you gonna fix it?" "I'm sorry! I won't drink your chocolate milk again for a century. I won't hang out with friends and I'll do all my homework and I'll do my exercises and shower every day and I'll never ask for extra curfew time for the rest of my life! And… and I'll give up eating meat forever! Even pepperoni!" Cosmo's eyebrows lifted. That seemed a little harsh, even if he had crashed the car. But when Poof ducked his head, he said, "Gee. Well, I guess I have no choice except to forgive you if stop snitching my chocolate milk. But how did this happen? I thought you were going to practice, so why were you in Serentip?" "It was an accident! S-someone ran right on in front of me, and I had to spin the car so I wouldn't hit them." Pause. That hadn't been in the report. Cosmo glanced sideways at the three fairies behind the desk, who all averted their eyes and pretended to be working again. "And… you ended up in Serentip on… accident." "Dad." Poof lowered his voice to something like a hiss. "This is embarrassing… Can we talk about this somewhere else?" But the paperwork. Even Fairy paperwork had its sluggish annoyances, and he had no pixie here to lend a hand. Cosmo massaged the small space between his eyes. Maybe he shouldn't have. After all, they were still in public and Poof had already asked he tone it down… but when the thought struck him, he couldn't choke it back. "Are you okay? Were you… buying peppermint?" "No! No way, Dad! I don't take mint; I'm a good kid." Poof's eyes filled with wetness, their saltiness stinging the energy field like dandelions whapping window glass. "It was just an accident!"
In "Approval," Foop complimented Poof for bringing "quality refreshments" to the school dance they were setting up, remarking that he'd thought Poof would bring something "weird" since he doesn't eat meat. In that Prompt, we find out Foop is ALSO censoring his meat-eating, but it's because he's embarrassed to let on to his betrothed that he likes chicken nuggets, so he eats salad instead.
And we learned that Fairies use magical bubbles instead of plastic or styrofoam for their to-go orders :)
Also, apparently I have Anti-Cosmo down in my notes as a French fry lover to parallel Cosmo's potato skin allergy (and because A.C. thinks salt is tasty). I think he and Hazel would really bond over that.
- Anti-Cosmo's actually vegan in my 'fics because Cosmo likes meat so much. He tends to push this on people around him, especially Foop, which Foop has issues with. Anti-Cosmo's wedding band is made of a non-leather material and he got excited in "Health Bars" when he was gifted a scarf that harmed no animals. - Fun fact, the silver-haired anti-habetrot who gifted him that scarf is Anti-Coriander (Foop's future betrothed), but this was when she was still a stranger. She's also the anti-habetrot who was monitoring Anti-Wanda's vitals in "You'll Never Know," also pre-betrothal. She's always been there...
Related:
What do Anti-Fairies eat?
Eating habits of each magical race
Social Ladder (Food weaknesses for all 35 Fairy subspecies)
#Fairly OddParents#FOP Poof#FOP Cosmo#FAIRIES!#ridwriting#Dragonfly parents#Purple hippie dragonfly#Nerdy blue fruit bat#Cilantro princess#130 Prompts#Sighs lightly. Tumblr's update to the new format wrecked the spacing of so many old posts. I should really try fixing the sideblog#but Take-Forever Day.......#asks#The bat with the hat#I'm wasp dad trash#We're Pixies!#Bat cube and associates#The best bat queen#Alternate bat prince
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Sengoku Cat Cafe (Azuchi edition)
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This is a translation of the bonus cat POV (!!!) stories that are from the castle gacha I got the above image from. There are 3 stories:
3rd party (starring Funiko ≽^•⩊•^≼, a cute little black kitten)
Kasugayama (starring Joururi /ᐠﹷ ‸ ﹷ ᐟ\ノ, a classy calico lady)
Azuchi (starring Kabutomaru /ᐠ ˃ ⤙ ˂ マ Ⳋ, a tough and proud tuxedo boy)
Azuchi story
(Lately, there have been more and more customers coming by...) (It looks like they're all coming here to see me.) (Because Granny adopted me, I have to repay her.) (She said, "You'll be a good omen," even after she saw my two-colored coat, and then she took me in.) (So that's why... I have to work hard.)
Ranmaru: Hey, that's the tea shop over there, right?
Keiji: It's really crowded! Just as popular as all the rumors say.
Nobunaga: ...So this is the "cat cafe" she spoke of.)
("Cat cafe?" What does that mean?) (...Never mind that. These guys. They look like warriors.) (...I hate warriors.)
Masamune: Hm? Is it just me, or is that cat over there staring at us awfully hard?
Mitsunari: Is it? I'm happy it's taken such an interest in us.
(When I was a kitten, I was adopted by the son of a warrior. Then his parents almost killed me.) (They said that two-colored cats were bad luck.)
Masamune: ...Hmm?
(...I have to play nice because I'm working. But don't get the wrong idea.)
Masamune: What's with that look on your face? You're looking at us like we're the enemy.
(...I hate this guy the most.)
Mitsunari: Allow me to step in. I'm quite used to playing with cats, since I have Kitty.
Ieyasu: ...This is the definition of a bad idea.
Mitsunari: Here kitty kitty. I have a cat toy for you.
(Does he take me for a fool? ...is what I want to say.) (But I'm working right now. Hold it in. I'll just go play dumb and go "meow meow meow...")
Ieyasu: ! What's with this cat? Does it have no sense of taste?
(Rude. It's called professionalism.)
Ieyasu: ...I think I know how to make you happier than playing with that. Ieyasu: Want to try?
(Interesting. Let's see if you can back up your words.)
Ieyasu: Here's some dried bonito. I bought it from the owner.
(Bribery! ...But I do like bonito. Damn it.)
Ieyasu: Ah, it's eating it. Pretty cute...
Masamune: What, you get special cuddling privileges after luring it in with food, is that right?
Ieyasu: Don't put it like that. Ieyasu: Anyway, I'm just holding it for a little bit. And increasing the shop's sales at the same time.
(Well... he has a point. I guess I have to thank him for buying from the store...) (Thanks.)
Masamune: So, your name's Kabutomaru, is it?
(He heard it from the owner, I guess.)
Masamune: It's a good name. The pattern on your head kinda looks like a helmet, so it fits.
(Is he being sarcastic? He doesn't know about my past or what my fur pattern almost led to.)
Ranmaru: Lord Masamune, surely you know that cats with fur patterns like that are considered bad luck among samurai and warrior families. Ranmaru: That fur pattern looks more like a cracked helmet... Not exactly something that would bring about good luck.
Masamune: And what about it? Masamune: Better to wear your colors with pride rather than hide what you are. Life's better that way. Even this little guy's brave and strong enough to do that.
(...Huh. That's actually... not bad to hear.)
Ranmaru: Um, Lord Masamune? This cat's a boy, isn't he? Don't tell me you're trying to charm him too?
Masamune: What's cooler than a man that even other men can fall for?
(He has a point.)
Ranmaru: Then let me have a turn too!
(Hey, what are you-- ah...)
Ranmaru: Cats really like it when you scratch their chins like this~
(It does feel really good... This kid knows what he's talking about.)
Ranmaru: Looks like he's not as wary as he was before. That's good.
Kabutomaru: Meow.
(...I mean, like, if you're going to spoil me this much...) (I can't say you're bad people, even if you are warriors...)
Mitsuhide: Then shall I have a try? Mitsuhide: Come here, Kabutomaru.
(Wh-what's with this guy? ...He's weird. Dangerous.)
Hideyoshi: Aaaand he's back to being on guard.
Mitsuhide: Don't back away like that. You'll hurt my feelings.
(With that smile on your face? Yeah right.)
Mitsuhide: No need to wave your tail like that. Let me just...
(Why's he getting closer?) (...Huh? This smell...)
Kabutomaru: Meow!!!!
Hideyoshi: What's wrong!? Kabutomaru!?
Mitsuhide: He seems to be fond of catnip*. Mitsuhide: I heard that it sends cats into a state of euphoria, but I didn't think it'd be quite this effective. * it's not catnip, but silver vine, which basically does the same thing
(You villain...! You- you turned my body against me!)
Hideyoshi: Always with the trickery, you. Are you okay, Kabutomaru? Hideyoshi: Take a minute to recover. Do you mind if I pick you up?
(Nnn... I don't love it, but this guy's arms are gentle... it's not bad...)
Hideyoshi: There, there. There's a good boy.
(Don't treat me like a kitten. I'm a big cat now.) (But it's warm like this... It feels nice. I guess, maybe... a few more minutes...)
Keiji: Look at you getting all cozy. Cats don't normally get so close to people.
(...Yeah, that's right. I feel like I'm selling out after just a little bit a pampering.) (Selling out to warriors, of all people.) (I guess it's because I know they won't do anything (too) bad to me, even if they are warriors...)
Keiji: You're a pretty special cat, aren't ya?
(Ack! Gentler! Pet me gentler!)
Keiji: Don't sulk like that. Here, how's this instead? You like this way of petting better?
(...This guy... Even though he's a human, he's got eyes like a cat. I kinda feel like we're similar. Sort of.)
Kabutomaru: Meow.
Keiji: Aw, look at you licking my fingers. Nice to meet you, Kabutomaru. Do I pass your standards?
(...He's putting on a smile, isn't he?)
Kabutomaru: ...
Keiji: ... Keiji: Ah... Yeah. I get the feeling that we're pretty similar, you and I.
(It looks that way. Well, either way, cheer up a little.)
Kabutomaru: Meow~
Hideyoshi: He's all nuzzled up against you. Looks like he likes you too.
Keiji: ...Guess so, heh.
Nobunaga: Oi, cat. Nobunaga: You are Kabutomaru, are you not?
(Ugh, what's with this pressure...? Is this guy the boss?)
Nobunaga: Oh? To look at me with such eyes, you must have quite the impudent spirit.
(What, don't like how I'm looking at you? What's next? Going to look down on me, trample me?) (...Even though they seemed like good people, in the end, they're just warriors after all.)
Ieyasu: He really seems to hate you, Nobunaga.
Nobunaga: It matters not. This one has a keen eye, after all. Nobunaga: Kabutomaru. How would you like to rule the world at my side?
Kabutomaru: ...Meow?
(Don't tell me he's trying to headhunt me!?)
Nobunaga: You showed no fear of me. I quite like that.
(As much as he sounds all commanding, he's petting me really gently...)
Nobunaga: If you come with me, you shall live your life in utmost luxury. You have my word.
(Nobody's looked me eye-to-eye and acknowledged me like this before.) (I... I feel kinda happy.)
Kabutomaru: ....Meow.
(...But I still owe Granny too much. Sorry.)
Nobunaga: I see. So that is your answer.
(Nobu... Nobu-what? What was his name?) (Oh, that's right. Nobu-tan. Thank you, Nobu-tan.)
Masamune: Looks like you got rejected.
Nobunaga: No matter. I can simply come to see him again.
(...Maybe warriors can be pretty cool.)
#ikemen sengoku#ranmaru (ikesen)#keiji (ikesen)#masamune (ikesen)#ieyasu (ikesen)#mitsunari (ikesen)#mitsuhide (ikesen)#hideyoshi (ikesen)#nobunaga (ikesen)#my translation
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I was reading through your tags and you mentioned at some point the kazuscara roommates finding your onlyfans and I think I completely combusted—thus i present to you my brain rot of late: you attend the same school as them but you’re not actually friends, all you know about kazuha is that he’s the friendly regular at the cafe you work at, who makes polite conversation every now and then but otherwise is nothing of note. In reality he’s been stalking you for weeks ever since your first encounter, and is dead set on the idea that you’re this innocent, weak thing that needs to be protected (maybe he stepped in when you had a bad customer and your meek reply helped fester his delusions?). Scara, on the other hand, is only aware of your presence since you’re his favourite cam model that he recently found. (Since he’s a harbinger he’s probs loaded) Weeks of funnelling money towards you cause him to feel this unwarranted possessiveness, believing that since he’s been providing so much in your “relationship” that it’s time you reward him in turn. However, despite the unbridled interest they have toward you neither are aware of each other’s feelings for you— that is, until you happen to run into the both of them heading to your class. While both are known for maintaining their stoic masks, they’re friends for a reason— and instantly can tell the attraction their roommates have towards their own “lover”. After kazuha finds your onlyfans he’s certain that you’ve been coerced and wants to save you, while scara thinks it’s time that he’s stopped letting other plebeians look at his possession—so, despite their initial reservations, come together to form the ideal plan. When you find yourself waking up groggy in a room you don’t recognize, all they can do is look on with glee whilst planning their next course of action with their new belonging. They’re friends after all, and good friends share though, don’t they?
This is v long srry lol you can ignore this ofc!!
AAAH, ANON!! YES!!! <3 I couldn’t resist writing more on this concept. orz They make for such a terrifying pair when they work together!
(cw: yandere, stalking, nsfw, implied kidnapping/drugging, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, delusional thoughts, savior complex, implied violence)
What if Kazuha and Scara were just acquainted with one another and actually became closer through their mutual obsession with you? Yes, they’re roommates and ought to get along because they’re living together but they haven’t exactly clicked yet. They talk every now and then and know little things about each other. Nothing too special. They don’t really hang out outside of their dorm either, what with their class schedules being vastly different. And Kazuha’s always out of the dorm doing who-knows-what. Most of his time is spent at a café, where he’ll write and read and stare at you while you work. On the other hand, Scara prefers to stay inside if he doesn’t have a good reason to go out. He likes his alone time. Although he has enjoyed going to the library every now and then to study.
So maybe they need to find some common ground. Maybe they need a push in the right direction before they get closer.
Kazuha likes to stare. Talking to you is great, but he worries he’ll say too much and then he’ll be a nuisance, or you might not want to talk to him at all since you’re working. But you always regard him with a warm smile, happy to scribble his name on the plastic cup because you remember him. Because you recognize his familiar face and soft, gentle eyes. He’s the one who saved you from that rude customer, after all, and he’s a polite regular. Why wouldn’t you know him? You might look like you can handle those types of situations, but what Kazuha saw that day was something entirely different. You were nervous—so soft-spoken and scared. He absolutely has to protect you from those kinds of people now, doesn’t he?
And he does exactly that. He’s your second pair of eyes—your valiant knight in shining armor—who sees and hears all. Sometimes he goes to the café with the intention to simply watch over you and make sure no one’s bothering you. He can recall one time when a customer was speaking rudely about you because her drink hadn’t been prepared in a ‘timely manner.’ In reality it’s impossible to make a drink within a few seconds, especially when you’re already preoccupied with making another customer’s drink. She must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe she’s just a hateful person in general. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of such fiery insults, though.
Her eyes just can’t see your perfection and therefore she does not deserve to see out of them.
Kazuha’s willing to wrestle with all of this darkness if it means you’ll stay safe, oblivious, and pure. You’re like a defenseless kitten, unable to protect yourself from the scary world. He writes about you a lot in his journal; you’re his muse—someone who constantly shows up in poems and short paragraphs where he tries to describe what your dream date might be or what type of wedding you’d prefer. Things get darker the deeper you delve into his writings, where you’ll find entries in great detail. Kazuha writes a lot and he doesn’t even mean to. He just has to get all of his thoughts on paper before they abandon him and he’s left with emptiness.
Everything you do is pure; you’re almost an equivalent to a holy being. Your smell is pure. Your body is pure. Your actions are pure. Your smile is pure. Even when you’re on the verge of crying from harsh customers or when you’re turning down a confession, you’re still pure. And Kazuha likes that about you because it’s special. There aren’t many people in his life who are completely pure. He’s been through a lot of rough things and has seen firsthand how impure people can be. It’s only fair that he gets a chance to protect purity itself.
He might have some impurities, but that doesn’t deter him from watching over you. As gentle and unassuming as he is, there are times when even he loses his composure. Not many are privy to these dark emotions of his. His smiles are sharp and venomous and his eyes fill with a gloom so dark it can swallow you whole. You’ll never see this side of him; he won’t allow it. Instead you’re treated to his sweet, calm side, where he feigns perfection in hopes of catching your interest.
As for Scara… He doesn’t really care about Kazuha in the beginning. He’s just someone he has to live with. It’s not a big deal and as long as he doesn’t try to make lots of pointless conversation everything will be okay. He prefers the peace and quiet, considering he’s acquainted with people who are far from peaceful and quiet. Scara’s relieved that Kazuha leaves the dorm so often because it gives him an opportunity to watch his favorite cam star’s most recent video. He’s your most loyal follower—someone who’s paid lots of money just to have access to the highest tier of rewards and such. He even got a private video where you addressed him and moaned out his name with lustful thoughts of him. Having lots of money comes in handy.
When he finds out that you go to the same school as him, he’s a little shocked. He didn’t expect you to be so close. You’re practically within touching distance. If only he knew your schedule. If only you were in one of his classes. It’s really annoying that he only knows your online presence and not who you might be in your personal life. The last thing he’s going to do is consult Childe, that popular athlete who knows literally everyone in the school for whatever reason. Surely he knows you. But he’ll die before he ever asks Childe for a favor.
Scara loves you out of every other cam model because you’re different. You’re not just trying to get fast cash. You’re genuine. You listen to your subscribers and their feedback. You do your best to improve and do even better streams than the previous ones. All of your hard work is overlooked by the other fools who watch your streams, but it isn’t overlooked by him. Scara appreciates your attention to detail and the way you’re able to hook him with your breathless voice alone. You’re very skilled at what you do, so it’s only fair you get paid for it.
But buying your services isn’t enough. It’s not a real relationship, but it certainly feels like it when he buys preferential treatment. Private shows, special requests, odd favors—you do it all because he pays for it. But this relationship isn’t going to be one-sided forever. You’ll have to pay him back in full eventually. Scara likes to think he has patience and that waiting is fine. It gives him more time to plan his next move—to figure out what he should do to finally have you all to himself. So that those private shows he watches through a screen can finally be real.
Scara finds the journal sitting innocently on Kazuha’s bed, its maroon cover and maple leaves pulling at his curiosity. He might not know everything about Kazuha, but he’d recognize this journal anywhere. His roommate almost always has it on his person. Scara wouldn’t be surprised if he slept with it. To say he’s curious would be absolutely correct. He can only wonder what Kazuha writes in that thing. Perhaps it’s just notes for a class. That’s what anyone would think, right?
Scara opens it and flips through the first few pages. They’re normal for the most part. Just a bunch of haikus and other useless scribbles. When he skips over some pages, he starts to find things that are far more interesting than poetry and doodles of cats. He finds the majority of the journal is comprised of information. More specifically, there are facts and other knowledge about you—the cam model he’s been obsessed with ever since he stumbled upon your onlyfans. He reads through as much of the journal as he can and instantly learns so much: your address, your roommate, your workplace, your friends’ names, names of any potential exes. The list goes on and on.
Scara doesn’t have anything against Kazuha. His first impression of him wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He thought he was a pushover at first. But now that he knows what this journal holds… Well, it sheds an entirely new light on his roommate.
Just days before Scara took a peek inside his journal, Kazuha discovers your secret online life. He snoops through Scara’s laptop when he steps out, having left it open and unlocked. He’s just trying to find what could have caught Scara’s interest, as he’s almost always glued to his laptop on specific days at specific times, with his headphones on and his gaze unyielding. He doesn’t intend to find the file of one of your private videos—something that was meant only for Scara’s eyes.
He clicks on the video out of interest. He’s not sure what he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t this. Kazuha sits there and stares at the sight before him. You’re dressed in skimpy lingerie and you’re muttering the dirtiest things while coating your fingers in lube. And your hands are stroking a thick toy and you’re addressing Scara and you’re lining it up to your hole and— He shuts the laptop before it can get even more explicit than it already is. He’s so conflicted, fraught with a betrayal so strong it weighs his heart down.
Why would he have this sort of video on his laptop? Did you give it to him? Did he make you do this? Are you in danger? Are you still pure?
Kazuha can’t kill on campus. It’s way too risky and he’d be one of the first suspects if Scara’s body is found. Besides, it’s not like he has the full story. He doesn’t know whether or not Scara’s done something that’s worthy of death. You could just be in a tight spot. He knows how easily you give in when you’re under pressure. Maybe you’re just doing this because you feel like it’s the only thing you can do. Not to worry; Kazuha will save you before Scara can ruin your purity with his twisted fantasies.
They confront each other when the time feels right. Kazuha struggles to keep a smile plastered to his face for the sake of politeness, while Scara holds in his raging temper so that he can bear some semblance of cooperation. Neither of them is happy to hear that the other went through their stuff, but they force themselves to make up because a more pressing issue is at hand: their connection to you.
Kazuha says he’s your secret admirer. Scara says he’s in a relationship with you. There’s no way you’d ever date someone like Scara—Kazuha knows this for a fact. Yet he falters at the confidence in Scara’s tone. That can’t be the truth, right? Despite this, Kazuha still strikes up an offer: If they work together to get what they both want, they’ll be unstoppable. With Scara’s riches and his influence and Kazuha’s charisma and clever thinking, they can easily get their hands on you. Of course this means they’ll have to share, but it’s not a big deal when they’re already in so deep. They both know the other’s secret; now they’re swearing to keep it in the pursuit of having you all to themselves. And luckily Scara agrees to the deal, but that doesn’t give Kazuha a reason to lower his guard.
However despite how well they work together when it comes to planning the kidnapping and actually executing it, they both have their own reasons for wanting you. Scara wishes to make his relationship with you a reality—to toss aside the screen that once held him back and finally do all of the things he could only do in his dreams. Kazuha seeks to protect your fragile heart, lest you crumble under Scara’s intense way of doing things and cling to him for salvation. You can’t do those sorts of things with Scara; he won’t allow it. Your purity is meant for him and no one else.
But sharing is caring and some have to learn that the hard way. It definitely brings Kazuha and Scara closer together, even if neither of them will admit it. If they look past their desires, they can be friends. And soon enough they’ll have to accept this new friendship if they want to avoid any unnecessary complications.
However there are times when they’ll cooperate in order to do things with you. They’re a packaged deal you can’t get rid of.
#chit chat#yandere#yandere kazuha#yandere scaramouche#kazuscara roommates#ty for feeding me anon orz#i like the idea of them being friends on the surface#but beneath that they're willing to abandon the other in order to meet their desires#but when they come together they're a force to be reckoned with#aaah i could go on and on with this concept#but i don't want to ramble#ANYWAYS TY AGAIN ANON <3 YOUR BRAIN IS SO LARGE#🧸 anon
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Made with love | Helmut Zemo
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e1e37159509e8f1ca79c15bb0d398407/6507b3ec327fa005-12/s540x810/986e788c5c1d9978d648c31fbc165d061bf65734.jpg)
Chef Zemo AU! 👨🍳
Gender neutral reader
Collage by @realremyd
[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]
Part 6
You are hereby invited to the grand opening of The Iron Grill. Doors will open at 7PM. Tables are reserved for guests.
See you there.
You look at the intricate invitation in Zemo's hand. Glancing up at him, you bite the inside of your cheek in concern. Helmut was disheveled. He was glaring down at the gold lettering on the card.
You reach out brush his hair back into place the best you could. Your touch causes him to look up at you in silence. His big broken eyes are soft, his lips slightly parted.
"He came to see you, it's only fair you go see him," you say softly. You rest your hand on his cheek, thumb brushing along his cheekbone in gentle motions.
"Will you come with me?" He asks, voice quiet and soft. There was a slight pleading look in his eyes.
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes."
You nod subtly. He tilts his head into your palm ever so slightly. You smile.
Sam excuses himself from the kitchen. When he's gone, Helmut raises his hand to place over yours, taking it in his and lowering it from his face. He takes a step closer to you.
"I need you."
Your gaze flickers between his eyes as he stands in front of you.
"Alright."
He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it, before slowly turning around to look at the mess he had made.
You let go of him and step over the mess, kneeling down to start clearing up. He kneels down to, but only to take your hand in his once more, stopping you from picking up anything.
"Don't. I'll deal with this."
You shake your head.
"I want to help. Let me help, Helmut."
He looks at you. He's not going to force you out, and he doesn't want you to leave, not really. He nods and let's go of your hand, gathering things from the floor.
He can't resist teasing you a little, however.
"I thought I told you I have only one name in the kitchen."
You glance up at him.
"Right. Chef."
His lips curl up into a grin. He is looking more like the Helmut Zemo you had come to know.
Both of you tidy the kitchen, Zemo teasing you here and there, while you spent a little bit of time becoming acquainted with hi kitchen.
When you were both done, you head out into the front. A few customers had come in. Zemo and Sam nod at one another. The table that Stark had used was now clear.
Zemo looked at you.
"I shall let you get on with your day. See you tonight?"
"Yes. See you tonight. I'll meet you here?"
He nods.
Helmut stands by the door of his beloved restaurant as you leave, waving at you with a smile as you turn to look at him once more.
This man was head over heels for you.
When you return to the hotel, Wanda is there. She smiles at you as you enter. You can tell by the look on her face that she wants to know everything.
You stand beside her bed, of which she was sitting on, and smile at her.
"Go on, ask."
"How was it?"
You sat down on your bed and looked at her. There was a happy smile on your face, one that lit up your entire expression.
"It was fun."
"Tell me more. I want to know all about your future husband," she grins.
"Wanda!"
"Come on, tell me!"
You sigh softly and look at her.
"I had fun. I really did. We made a paella for Stark. Helmut showed me how to do it. Even let me have a go here and there, though I mostly just handed him the ingredients. It was nice spending so much time with him."
"I hear a but coming."
"Well, kind of. I think he really likes me. He really wants me to move out here. He wants to see me every day. He even offered me job."
"That's good though! He likes you."
"Yeah, it's just a huge ask. Also, we're going to dinner tonight."
"Look at you! Your first date! Or does today count as a date?" She looks deep in thought. You roll your eyes.
"It's not a date! Stark invited Helmut to his restaurant tonight. It's the grand opening. Helmut asked me to go with him."
"That sounds like a date to me," she grins at you.
"It's not a date."
"Still, you have to look nice. Not just for your handsome chef, but also for Stark. I looked him up while you were gone. He's a big deal in America, you know. He has several restaurants across the States. Many small businesses have closed up shop because they couldn't compete with his business," she tells you.
"Don't say that. I can't tell Helmut that! The restaurant is his pride and joy," you say, worried.
"I'm just telling you what I know. Go there tonight, see what the deal is. You never know, it might not take off over here. This is his first restaurant outside of the US."
"His first?"
"Yeah," she confirms.
"I wonder why he chose Sokovia of all places. Don't get me wrong, I love it here, but you would think someone like him would pick a more popular country."
"Yes, you would, wouldn't you?" The look she gives you makes you wonder if she's suspicious about all of this.
"I'll see what happens tonight then."
She nods and stands up.
"We have to get you an outfit. Something that will blow him away," she looks you up and down.
"Stark, or Helmut?"
"Helmut, obviously. We need to make him fall in love with you more."
You just shake your head with a laugh. What would you do without Wanda Maximoff in your life? You would never know.
Wanda took you shopping right then and there.
When evening came around, you stood with Wanda in your hotel room. She smiled at the outfit you had chosen. Nothing too fancy, but something stylish that stood out just enough. It should be enough to catch Helmut's attention, and be enough for Stark's restaurant.
"You look amazing!"
"Thank you!"
You felt amazing. You look at yourself in the mirror once more and then let Wanda basically ban you from the hotel room. You weren't allowed back in until after dinner.
You made your way to Zemo's restaurant. He was stood outside the double doors waiting for you. He was dressed smart, neatly ironed shirt, slacks, loafers that looked brand new. A casual, yet smart, blazer hugging him nicely, just tight enough to define the muscles in his arms.
You forced yourself to look at his face before you got carried away.
He looks so taken back when his eyes land on you. His eyes scan you up and down, stunned by how good you looked.
You smiled, rather shyly because of the way he was looking at you, at him and came to a stop in front of him.
"Hi."
"Hello. You look... wonderful."
"Thank you," you could feel your face getting warm. The way this man can make you feel so shy felt bewildering to you. "You look really good too."
Helmut glances down at his outfit.
"I maybe a little under-dressed compared to you, but we certainly make a fine pair. Shall we?" He offers you his arm.
You nod and take it, both of you walking across the plaza.
"Any idea what might happen tonight?" You ask, taking in the quiet atmosphere around you. Most people had gone home by this point.
"No idea, but I won't stand by and let him insult me or my restaurant again," he says, firmly. You can see the rage flash in his eyes.
"Neither will I, Helmut."
He smiles at you. His smile is always the most dashing thing you've ever seen.
You both make the small walk to The Iron Grill with no trouble at all. It's quite busy outside and you can already tell that alone bothers Zemo. You give his arm a little squeeze and he smiles in return. You both make tour way to the door.
"Invitation?" The man at the door asks.
Helmut holds up the card Stark had left behind for him that morning. The man nods and let's you both in.
The entrance to the restaurant is buzzing just as much as outside. People, all dressed up smartly, were scattered about. You didn't really know where to look.
Stephen Strange spots you both and comes over with ease.
"Good of you to make it."
"Well, it would be rude not to come," Zemo said, biting back anything be actually wanted to say.
"Yes."
Strange led you both over to a table. Zemo stopped Strange from pulling out your chair by doing it himself. You smiled softly at Helmut for that. He sat himself down opposite you, ignoring Stephen.
Strange walked off with a sigh.
"I feel so out of place here," you say, looking around the room.
The restaurant was big. At least 2 dozen tables. The kitchen was visible right at the back, you could see chefs cooking away back there. Strange was acting ad host, guiding people to tables. The ceiling was high up, miniature chandeliers hung evenly around, right above every table. It was fancy, but not overly posh. Classy.
A bit much for a grill house, but Stark clearly had the money for it.
Speaking of, he was no where to be seen.
"Don't worry, I do too. Escorpión Morado is a family business. This is high end business. He's here to make a profit, not to make connections and provide people with comfort and love in the form of food."
You nod, agreeing.
These two were so different from each other.
Three loud claps sounded from the other end of the room. You both turned to look. Tont Stark, wearing an expensive suit, was seeking attention.
You could almost feel the way you wanted to glare at him.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome! This is the grand opening of The Iron Grill! I'm glad to see you all could make it. Many of you have flown far and wide to be here tonight."
You look around the room.
These weren't customers, these were business partners. Now you and Zemo felt even more out of place.
"It's with great pride and pleasure I present to you a taste of my menu."
He claps loudly again. Many carts come barreling out of the kitchen, each being pushed by a waiter or waitress. Each of them were dressed to the nines in carefully designed uniforms.
Whereas back at Escorpión Morado, Zemo's staff were dressed more casually, just wearing aprons with an EM stitched into them delicately.
One such cart comes to a stop next to your table. You glance at Zemo, who meets your gaze. The tall waiter pulls the sheet from over the cart and you a presented with a selection of dishes, all three shelves of the cart full with different colours and flavours.
This was... something.
Another waiter came up to the table and poured you each a glass of champagne. Tony was holding up a glass of his own.
"To The Iron Grill!"
Everyone else cheered, but you just slightly raised your glass with Zemo before taking a sip.
"Bon appetite!"
All the waiters simultaneously pick up the same plate from the cart and place it between you both.
You both take a bite each.
"So, we're here to taste test his menu?" You ask, having absolutely no opinion on what you just ate.
"It would appear so."
"We spent all that time making a paella, something from the heart, only to come here and have taste of his insanely large menu?"
Helmut sighs softly as he puts his fork down.
"It will never work. His menu is too big, no feeling is put into the cooking, everything is too basic. He isn't trying."
You reach put and place a hand on his, which is resting on the table.
"He won't last the year. Your restaurant is everything and more, he can't top that."
The way he smiles at you let's you know they he believes your words. He's thankful you came here with him tonight.
This goes on for hours. It's getting on for 10 PM when he thanks everyone for coming. Zemo pulls out your chair for you, taking your hand in his as you stand. You sigh.
You had tasted all the main courses on the menu, and then you got to choose a dessert to try at the end. Both of you chose something different so could try each others deserts.
Honestly, desert was the best thing on the menu, but that was it.
As you neared the door, Tony stopped you both from leaving.
"Will you wait just a bit longer, I want to talk to you."
Zemo reluctantly agreed.
You all waited for the restaurant to clear out before sitting down again. Stephen joined you all, offering more champagne, but neither you nor Zemo touched the flutes.
"Did you like my menu?"
You and Zemo shared a subtle look, both of you nodded, though you considered it very normal and bland compared to what Helmut serves under his roof.
"Good. We think we'll do quite nicely here. I'm going to cut to the chase, I want to buy your restaurant, use it to expand our empire."
Helmut had never stood up so fast. The bang from his fist hitting the table startled you. He was seething. If looks could kill, Stark would have taken his last breath just now. Zemo's eyes were glaring holes into the other man's skull.
Strange had the audacity to slip a cheque across the table. There were far too many zeros on it.
"No."
"Hear me out-" Stark began.
"No. The answer is no."
You stand up, taking Zemo's other hand in yours. He didn't turn his gaze away from Stark, but his hand did wrap around yours.
You glared at Stark.
"How dare you even say such a thing."
Tony didn't look at you, keeping his gaze locked on Helmut. However, he did hold up a finger at you.
"I'm not talking to you."
Helmut was going to say more, but Stark spoke first.
"I'm offering to buy your restaurant here and now before you go bankrupt due to lack of business. If I buy your restaurant, you can keep your job and your staff. However, the whole place will be remodeled in the image of The Iron Grill and I would own the building."
You scoff.
"How dare you!"
"Again, not talking to you," Stark glanced at you this time.
"No! I'm not just going to stand here and let you insult him further. You cannot have Escorpión Morado, it belongs to Helmut. It was his father's business, passed down to him, and you're just going to remodel it? Do you not care about it's history, it's importance? You have the audacity to invite us here and say this? I cannot believe you! You may be a big shot billionaire, but there are things more important than money."
You failed to notice the way Helmut had turned to look at you as you went off on your passionate speech. His eyes had softened, his lips curled up ever so slightly at the corners.
Gosh, he was so in love with you.
You were standing up for him, for all he had left. How did he get so lucky to meet you?
"Fine, but you'll see."
Stark picks up the cheque and pockets it, not once looking away from Zemo who was still looking at you.
You give a tug to Zemo's hand, he smiles as he follows you out, both of you done here.
Helmut didn't look back, unable to look away from you. Once you were back pit on the street, only then did you turn back to Helmut. You couldn't help smiling at the way he was looking at you.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You're amazing," he grins.
"Don't be silly."
"I'm not. I mean it. The way you defended me, my restaurant, my heart could burst with joy."
"I only said the truth. He can't have Escorpión Morado, don't give it to him!"
"Over my dead body."
"Don't say that!" You stand in front of him, frowning at him.
Helmut just chuckles softly and let's go of your hands to place his on your face. He holds you gently, just looking at you with a goofy smile.
"Stark will not have my restaurant. Not if I can help it. You'll see, his very own will fail within the year."
"I believe you," you say, softly.
"Stay."
"Helmut..."
"Stay, please."
"I can't."
His dark brown eyes flicker between yours with a pleading gaze. He was so desperate to keep you here beside him, to keep you in his life.
But you had to leave.
He needed to give you a reason to stay. A reason so big that, even when you go home, you'll never forget it.
He kisses you.
He's quick and swift in kissing you. Your mind blanks as all you can feel are his lips on yours, his hands on your face.
You're kissing him back.
You just melt. You give in. You want it.
You can't bring yourself to stop him.
You're utterly in love with him and now he knows it. He can feel it. Just like how you can feel his love for you.
He was a reason to stay.
He pulls away, but does not move his hands. He gives a goofy smile as he looks at you.
"Stay."
All you can do is smile at him.
@namethathasnotbeentaken @belle82devart @cathrin2405 @lieutenantn @wilder-fangirl @latenightartist-author @lucky-luck-lucky @hb8301 @charistory @thatoneartgalsstuff @thesuitkovian @malkaviangirl @zemosimp420 @realremyd @the-chaotic-cow @lostghostgirl94 @zafiro-draco @lazygurl05 @pinkcutiepiee @goddessofmischief03 @whovianayesha @myybebe @awesomesauce-abbie @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @zemo-is-my-muse @nonamec0s @apparrio @scuttle-buttle @alex-the-nb @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @greeneyedblondie44
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71. you’re famous and you want to hide out in my bookstore which is fine except the stupid paparazzi won’t leave and now there’s a photo of us in the tabloids and they’re printing misinformation and why the fuck won’t you clear this up on your twitter account
Sternclay, NSFW, please!
Here you go! Let's end this round of meet uglies with a bang
The post-holiday slump is always the worst; everyone maxed out their credit cards last month and doesn’t want to buy anything, and the tourists won’t be back until the spring. It’s not that he’s concerned about keeping the lights on; Bookworms is popular and has a prime spot downton. It’s that he’s bored out of his mind.
All his orders for the day are in, everything’s been received and shelved, and he’s running out of things to tidy. If he’s lucky, the clouds that have been threatening a snowstorm since this morning will burst and drive some people to shelter among the stacks.
Dingdong
Thank the lord.
“Welcome to Bookworms, can I help you?”
The man stays by the door, peering through the glass onto the street while pulling off his beanie, “Huh? Oh, uh, nope, just coming in to, uh, get out of the cold.” He turns, and two realizations slap Joseph in the face.
One: this is the hottest man he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.
Two: He’s seen this man dozens of times, just never in person.
Barclay Cobb is a Food Network darling who got his start on Youtube, sharing recipes from vintage cookbooks he found at garage sales. That’s not why he’s starstruck, but it is probably why the taller man is hiding in the craft books alcove and keeps nervously looking his way.
“I won’t tell anyone you’re here, Mr. Cobb.”
“Phew” the man sighs, unzips his jacket, “thanks man. Thought I’d be bundled up enough that no one would spot me while I was out, but I didn’t get my hat on in time coming out of the Chinese place down the block.”
“I love that spot, they have the best beer-braised duck.”
“Yeah, I always stop by when I’m in town, they’re food is worth getting photographed for.”
It’s odd, everything he’s read suggests chef Cobb is friendly and warm when approached by fans in public.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate that people like my shows but, I, uh, sometimes I just want to eat or walk down the street without someone taking pictures of me.”
“Do you want to head into the back sections? There’s no windows in that half of the store.”
“Sweet, thanks. Uh, would it be cool if I autographed any books of mine you have? I like doing that, means I can send a little business towards smaller stores.”
“Of course. Here, the cookbooks are on this wall.” He slips into his office to grab a sharpie while Barclay pulls a stack of books and sits down on the floor. As the scratching of the pen fills the air, Joseph takes a trip to the paranormal and occult section, coming back with three copies of The Case for Bigfoot.”
“Y’know, not everyone stocks these.” Barclay smiles as he adds the paperbacks to the pile.
“Which is terrible business; you’re just as famous in the cryptozoology community as you are in the foodie one. This is the best book on bigfoot ever written, and I should know; I run a, um, a blog where I review books on paranormal topics.”
“You a true believer?” The cook blows on his signature in the copy of Desserts for All Seasons
“More an optimistic skeptic; your book is perfect because you make your case using actual evidence instead of reporting the same ten, poorly verified stories that everyone includes in their books. And I appreciated that you included recipes from the places you visited; that was a very nice touch.”
“Funny story about that” Barclay freezes as the front door opens. There’s definitely more than one person coming in, and when Joseph pokes his head around the corner he sees fifteen people, all with cameras or phones.
“Shit. You might want to hide in my office for a few minutes.”
By the time the crowd reaches him, Joseph is almost done re-shelving the signed books.
“Good afternoon, let me know if you need help finding anything.”
“Uh, yeah, we do, someone saw Barclay Cobb in your store-”
“Strange, we’ve only had one customer” he winces as someone’s shoulder knocks a hardcover off its display, “I didn’t get a good look at them before they went downstairs.” He tips his head at the staircase to the YA and Graphic Novel sections and is promptly knocked into the shelf as the throng hurries away.
“Come on, I can get you out through the back door” Joseph whispers to the Red Dust on his Soul poster on his office door. Barclay is remarkably quiet for a man his size as they sneak across the floor and let frigid, January air rush into the store.
“Thanks man” Barclay whispers, “I owe you one.” He sets a big hand on Joseph’s shoulder, squeezes it with a wink, then pulls on his hat and disappears into a crowd coming off at the bus stop.
---------------------------------------------------
Joseph always comes in through the back, flipping on lights as he goes, so the sea of bodies pressed to the front windows like a zombie horde surprises him. He knows Barclay tweeted about the signed copies, but this seems like excessive excitement even for a celebrity chef.
“Morning, Joseph--whoa, what the heck?” Aubrey clocks in without taking her eyes off the crowd, “why is everyone here this early.”
“Fan culture. I think.” The registers finish waking up, “I’ll pay holiday rates if you open that door for me.”
Aubrey gives a thumbs up, unlocks the double doors, and is swallowed up so quickly he worries she might have been trampled until she emerges near the greeting cards. Some people swarm the cookbooks, but an alarming number cluster around the counter, all shouting for his attention.
“How long have you been seeing Chef Cobb?”
“What?, I, I’m not-”
“Does he often visit your store?”
“No! He just came by yesterday!” There’s a horrible clatter of all the books on display near the door taking each other out like dominoes.
“Do you fuck in the backroom all the time?”
“Oh come on” He pushes past the man who asked that, deals with shouting all the way to his office and slams the door. A quick Google search for “Barclay Cobb” brings up a blurry photo of them in the alley, Barclays hand on his shoulder, and multiple headlines speculating on why the reclusive chef and author has chosen a nobody bookstore employee (he’s the owner, damn it) as his lover.
Okay, there’s a logical, easy fix to this.
He opens the door enough to speak, whistles so everyone will be quiet and listen to him, “I’m sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Mr. Cobb isn’t in any kind of relationship with me; he just came into the store yesterday for some peace and quiet. So, if you’re looking for information about him, this is not the place for it. If you’re looking for the signed books, the cookbooks are there, and the paranormal section is just around that corner.” He gives his best customer service smile as the paparazzi exchange perplexed glances.
“...Is it true he bought you this store?”
“Wh--no! We rent this space.”
“From him?”
“Arggh!” He closes the door, slumps against it and cards his fingers through his hair. As he contemplates closing for the day, he spots a little, copper card on his desk. It’s Barclay’s, which is what he expected, but when he flips it over there’s a message scribbled in pen.
Main St Hotel, room 503, here until Monday.
He pulls out his phone, tells Aubrey she’s allowed to get the crowd out by any means necessary except for fire, and elbows his way out into the winter air.
------------------------------------------
Barclay almost purrs when he peers through the peephole in the hotel door; Joseph, as his nametag read, is standing on the carpet, looking twice as handsome as he did yesterday. His cheeks are even a little pink, and Barclay has some thoughts on how to make that blush deepen.
“Hey, glad you found-”
Joseph holds up his phone, screen in Barclays face, “please fix this.”
“Oh fuck.” He ushers him in, “I’m so sorry, I thought they’d stopped doing this shit.”
“No, and they’re fucking up my inventory as a result.”
“On it, lemme text my assistant, she’s good at drafting these kind of messages.”
“Thank the lord. Right, thank you for that, I’ll go now.”
“Wait” Barclay reminds his instincts that blocking the door is rude, “do you wanna stay a few minutes? You look kinda stressed.”
“Because my store is being overrun!” Joseph snaps, then takes a deep breath and straightens his sleeves, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t called for, this morning has just been a mess. And it, um, it’s a little bittersweet to have people thinking I could land a hot chef when I can’t get past a first date with most people. Um, sorry. Too much information. That’s a bad habit of mine.”
Barclay tucks his hands into his pants pockets, “About that. Y’know how I left my card?”
Blue eyes blink, then brighten, “I thought that might be the reason but I dismissed it as wishful thinking.”
“Nope. A guy who's hot, nerdy, and competent enough to sneak me away from the paparazzi? Sign me the fuck up.”
“I’m not opposed to a, um, tryst, but I really, really need to get back to the store, I can’t abandon Aubrey to deal with this mess on her own, that’s not fair, and now we’ll have to reorder things too....” He laughs, a tense sound, “good lord, I get a chance to fuck a celebrity crush and I’m turning it down for work.”
“Hey” Barclay sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “it’s okay. You’re not the first guy to be married to his job. But, uh, out of curiosity, you got any vacation days to spare?”
----------------------------------------------
“This is all yours?” Joseph takes in the sprawling farm as Barclay unlocks the front door of a charmingly rustic house.
“Yep, all the way to the creek and all the way to the road. Might surprise you, but I like my privacy.”
“I’d never have guessed.” He replies with faux shock.
“Smartass.” Barclay kisses his cheek, holds the door open with his shoulder so Joseph can pull his bags inside. He packed as light and efficiently as he could for two weeks away (he’d initially planned on one until Aubrey and Moira ganged up on him and told him he hadn’t taken a real vacation in years so he was taking one now, damn it) but his suitcase is still heavy as he rolls it to the stairs.
“I got that.” Barclay shoulders his own travel bag and hoists Joseph’s in the other hand, carrying them to the second floor like they’re nothing more than pillows.
The week the chef was in Madison, Joseph went to his hotel almost every night. Fell asleep in his bed more than once, when discussions of fusion cuisine or the Fresno Nightcrawler turned into frantic, heated kisses under the covers. It’s only when the cook drops all luggage into the master bedroom that the truth of why he’s on this trip sets in.
“You really invited me all the way here because you think I’m hot.”
“Yeah but no.” Barclay drapes his arms over his shoulders, lips still a little chilly as he kisses them, “brought you here because you’re smart” another kiss, this one on his jaw, “and funny” another, on his nose, “and you’re the biggest bigfoot fan I know.”
“You wrote a book on it!”
“Point stands. And yeah” he pushes Joseph back so he lands on the bed, crawling atop him as he growls, “I invited you here because you’re so hot I wanna pour sugar on you and see if it melts. Now get your pants off; I’ve been thinking about sucking your dick since we left the city.”
------------------------------------------
“How did the whole bigfoot thing start?” Joseph sips his Irish Coffee as Barclay puts his feet into his lap.
“Guess the same way any famous person ends up with two gigs; I was doing the thing I love, then was dicking around on cryptid hunter forums and found out I was also hella good at researching bigfoot. By the time I got really into it, I had enough cash that I could write my book without worrying about going broke. Helps that I’d handed off The Arch and The Lodge and was just the exec chef on them, since then I could travel if I needed to.”
Joseph nods, moves one hand down to rub Barclays foot; in spite of no longer working the kitchens of his five restaurants or having to test recipes for the books right now, he spent most of today on his feet making elaborate meals for two. Joseph teases him that he’s trying to stuff him to the point he can’t leave. Barclay always chuckles and says he doesn’t know how right he is. The last two days, Joseph then wraps his arms around his boyfriend and tells him he’d stay forever if he could.
He’s never thought of himself as romantic; he’s pragmatic, knows that relationships are things built out of time, trial, and error. But god help him, he’s fallen for Barclay like they’re rom-com leads with only ninety minutes to reach their happy ending.
They’re out near the creek--really more of a small river--the next morning, talking about books and speculating on the existence of life on other planets, when a storm sweeps through the trees. As trunks groan and roots pull loose from the snow, Barclay calls, “we better head back.”
He gives a thumbs up. Then the ice under him cracks.
He doesn’t correct course quickly enough, the rest dropping from under him and dunking him in freezing water. It’s deep, too deep to stand, but he’s a decent swimmer and kicks towards the surface. When the shadow covers the opening with a boom, panic threatens to push the rest of his precious breath away.
The tree that fell across the ice is heavy, and no matter how he pushes it won’t give. He bangs on the ice on either side, trying to get it to crack, but his lungs scream and his limbs alert him that the cold will soon shut them down.
He closes his eyes, trying to think, not ready to give up, not with Barclay so close. There’s a groan of wood and frozen water. His mouth opens without permission, desperate for air, and chokes him on frost instead.
-----------------------------------
“...be dead, please don’t be dead, please please please don’t be fucking dead.”
“Nnff.” That’s not what he meant to say, but it seems to calm the voice above him.
“Thank fuck. I’m so sorry, I got to you as fast as I could, do, do you need anything?” Barclay sounds exhausted.
“Cold.” He mutters.
“I’m trying to warm you up gradually, that’s what the first aid book said but, uh, here.” Warm, fuzzy arms draw him into a hug.
Wait.
The first thing he sees when his eyes flutter open are arms covered in reddish-brown fur. When Barclay rubs their cheeks together, it tickles more than his beard usually does.
“Barclay? What the hell is going on?”
“Uh. So.” He’s rolled with ease to face a creature he’s never seen and eyes that he’d know anywhere, “I’m bigfoot. Or, uh, a bigfoot. Maybe that’s kinda obvious now.”
His brain crackles to life, “What better way to stay undiscovered than get famous by giving people the wrong information about you.”
“Some of it’s true. Just not anything people could use to actually find me.”
“Smart, big guy” Joseph pets his face.
“You’re taking this pretty well.”
“I think my system is too shocked to experience more shock.” He shudders, “relatedly, how’d I get out of the river?”
“I lifted the tree off and pulled you free. Took my disguise off to do that and, uh, the fucking thing fell into the water when I got you. So I’m gonna be stuck like this until a friend of mine can get me a new one.”
“No complaints here. You look incredible.” He runs his hands up and down Barclay’s side and chest, warmth seeping into his fingers as he does, “But I’m a little surprised you were willing to risk someone seeing you or me blabbing to someone and trashing your whole life in the process.”
A low rumble as Barclay kisses his forehead, “It’s worth it. I, this is gonna sound so fucking cheesy, but I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time, and there was no way I was gonna lose you.”
“Oh.” Affection and surprise well up in his throat, pressing down his words so all he can do is nestle closer to the cryptid and let himself be loved.
His mind rebounds quickly from his misadventure. His body would like him to remember it for a while so he doesn’t put it in such jeopardy again any time soon. Instead of helping Barclay with cooking and chores, he lays under the covers while the storm rattles the roof and the cook clangs pots on the lower floor.
Barclay, attentive to a fault, is downright doting now that he’s stuck in bed. He’s never without a hot drink or something to read, and the cryptid is happy to answer the majority of his questions about the finer points of being bigfoot. When it’s bedtime, his boyfriend pulls him atop his massive frame and cuddles him, whispering over and over that he’s glad he’s okay, until they fall asleep.
Today followed much the same pattern, though when dinner time rolls around he gets a fantastic surprise.
“Chocolate fondue?” He peers hopefully at the bed tray in Barclays hands.
“Only the best for you, babe.” The cook sets the burnished wood down on the bedside table, “we lucked out, the berries I bought last week are ripe.”
Joseph reaches for the fork, but Barclay beats him to it.
“You should save your energy. Since you’re, uh, still recovering.”
He shrugs, sets his hands in his lap and opens his mouth for a chocolate dipped raspberry. It doesn’t take long to spy Barclay’s ulterior motive. The cook has a whole wardrobe designed to fit his cryptid form, but it’s having trouble concealing certain things.
“You’re getting off on this.”
“I, uh, I, maybe a little” Barclay blushes under his fur.
Joseph raises an eyebrow, tilts his head at the bulge in Barclay’s pants, “You call that ‘little’?”
A rumbly whine, the fork paused halfway to Joseph’s mouth, “I can’t help it. I’ve got a thing for taking care of partners, especially ones who are all competent and put-together the rest of the time, and you look so good when you eat and, ohfuck.”
Joseph inhales sharply as chocolate hits his exposed upper chest. It’s not hot enough to burn, and he moans as the sensation seeps across his skin. Barclays eyes, wide and ravenous, keep flicking between the splatter and his face.
“Looks like you made a mess, big guy.” Joseph begins undoing the remaining buttons on his pajamas, “you should clean it up.”
“Fuck yeah.” Barclay lunges, mouth first, lapping and sucking at the marked skin as Joseph laughs. Their shirts hit the floor together as he digs his nails into auburn fur. Barclay grunts at the pressure, sits up with a grin, and drips a line of chocolate down the right side of Joseph’s ribs.
“Oops. Better fix that too.”
“Cleanliness is importantAH, ahhnn.” He squirms a bit as Barclay nuzzles his stomach before dragging his tongue up his skin. There’ve been times he mourned the fact T didn’t make him as hairy as some other guys, but right now he’s grateful for the clear canvas Barclay can mark however he pleases.
“A mess can be more fun.” The cook licks his lips, sucks a hickey above his belly button, “and by the time I’m done with you, babe, won’t be a single part of you that isn’t one.”
“Then get to it.” He shoves his pants down, lets Barclay pull them the rest of the way off and fold them. He lays back, resting his arms behind his head, and moans as the cook drizzles chocolate on each hip. Joseph feels like a gourmet dessert and, from the growls between his thighs, Barclay intends to treat him like one.
His boyfriend is always enthusiastic when sucking him off, but tonight he throws finesse out the window in favor of burying his face at the crease of each thigh in turn, licking his hips clean while clawing at his calves and sides. He lifts his head, wipes his mouth with a satisfied grin that shows the points of his teeth, and dives down again.
Joseph yelps with pleasure, the hint of fangs hitting all his buttons, lighting him up like downtown on a dark night. It’s intense, the scratch of fur on skin just different enough from the usual beard to remind him of who’s down there, and his legs try to kick closed. Barclay growls again, holding them open with ease.
“Not until I’m done with you, babe.”
He surrenders to flood of feelings from both outside and within him, Barclay’s sheer delight at his body rendering all his doubts and worries toothless and small, quieting them until all he can think about is incredible creature holding and all he can say is some variation on-
“Barclay, please, right there, lordalmighty that’s good, that’s so good big guy, please.” He squeezes his eyes shut, craving the impending orgasm more than he has words for. Barclay sucks determinedly and huffs, pleased, as Joseph's thighs tense in his hold and his climax chases away the remnants of yesterday's aches.
As his brain insists that really, body, opening our eyes isn’t that hard, there’s a metallic zip and strong legs bracketing his thighs.
“Here I thought you couldn’t look any better.” He murmurs as Barclay gleefully strokes his cock, “as soon as my brain works again, I’m coming up with so many ways to use that gorgeous thing.”
“Can’t, fuck, can't wait to hear ‘em, but I only got one for tonight; I’m gonna use it to cum alllll over that fucking perfect body, fuck, Joseph, you look so good when you’re ruined, fuck.” An impressive amount of cum spatters up his stomach, chest, and neck as Barclay howlgrowlpurrs and then sets his hands carefully on the bed.
Joseph’s whole body is sticky with chocolate, sweat, and cum, and Barclay definitely has at least two of those things mussed into his fur.
“You’re right, big guy, a mess can be fucking amazing.”
That being said, being sticky gets old quick, and soon they’re in the tub, Joseph whistling as he shampoos Barclay’s chest. The cryptid hasn’t stopped purring, and every time he looks Joseph’s way the sound deepens.
“When are you next in the city?”
The cook yawns, “Was gonna check on how the new chef de cuisine is getting on at Kepler in about two week.”
“Would you like to stay with me? It’s not fancy, but it’s close to the Ismuth, so you can get to Kepler on foot without trouble, and there are fewer crowds there this time of year. I suspect paparazzi are also less likely to track you down at some random house than at a hotel. That might make up for my lack of, um, high class amenities.”
“Good point. But I gotta be honest babe; as long as you’re there, that’s all I need to be happy.”
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A small one-shot I wrote for @ojiisan01! The Spetsnaz are on vacation from Rainbow and go back to their families. Kapkan is helping his cousin with his flower shop and Tachanka keeps coming to spend time with him.
As always, you can read it on AO3 too!
Free time, Maxim mused, was both a blessing and a curse. After being in the military for so many years, he was more than used to the unpredictable flow of work and down time that lifestyle entailed. What he wasn’t used to was having nothing to do.
When Harry informed the Spetsnaz of their impending month-long vacation, Maxim immediately booked a ticket back to Russia. It had been so long since the last time he went home for a visit, and he missed seeing his family. However, just because he was on vacation didn’t mean the rest of the family was too. His brothers had work, his niece and nephew had to go to school, and Maxim remained alone in the old apartment for most of the day. Boredom was inevitable, and after a few days Maxim was already sick of spending his days doing nothing.
He was antsy and missed his homely little cabin in the woods, or at least the freedom that living in the middle of nowhere afforded. Maxim was already thinking of how to leave a few days early without upsetting the kids too much, when the message arrived: cousin Boris broke his knee.
Apparently a bicycle accident smashed his knee badly enough to need surgery, and he was looking for someone to baby-sit his dog and take care of his business while he was in the hospital. It was all they talked about during dinner: poor cousin Boris, all alone in St. Petersburg. And then Maxim’s sister-in-law suggested that he could go help Boris, and everyone agreed it was a fantastic idea and started acting like it was already decided.
While Maxim was a little irritated they all just assumed he would do it, he knew it was a good idea. After all, hadn’t he been complaining about having nothing to do? And it would be nice to see his cousin again, they used to be really close as kids before Boris’ family moved out. But it still stung that nobody asked his opinion before giving him the task.
_ _
St. Petersburg was exactly like any other big city Maxim had seen: noisy, full of people, and severely lacking fresh air. It was a curious sensation of never being truly alone, yet feeling strangely isolated.
Maxim enjoyed the opportunity to catch up with his cousin, even though it was awkward at first, but soon they found common ground in their love of the outdoors. It certainly explained why his cousin’s apartment was full of plants, to the point it resembled an interior garden, almost. Or his choice of business that Maxim was supposed to oversee for a few days: a flower shop.
Despite his vast experience fending off for himself in the wilderness, Maxim didn’t know the first thing about flowers. Perhaps growing plants wouldn’t have been so daunting, Maxim was used to hard physical work and getting dirty. However, arranging flowers in bouquets, or worse, giving advice on which paired best together? He was utterly lost.
Cousin Boris didn’t seem too concerned, though, assuring Maxim that most customers already knew what they wanted or chose arrangements from a catalogue. In fact, he joked that the hardest part of Maxim’s new duties would be keeping Zoya, his little dog, out of the couch and bed. Still, he took time to show Maxim around the flower shop and how things worked, the basics, so he wouldn’t be completely clueless. And the next day he bid them goodbye, both to Maxim and Zoya, before heading to the hospital and leaving Maxim in charge of the shop.
It was strange, as if he was playing a role in an elaborate play, wholly unlike Maxim’s life. But it was bearable. For the most part, clients were sparse, allowing him time to get familiar with the new environment. And yet through the whole first day he was nervous, needing to remind himself why he was here: because his brother’s wife thought it was a grand idea. And because family helped each other, and Maxim literally had all the time in the world for the next few weeks.
That night, lying on an unfamiliar bed, he realised how accurate Boris was when he said keeping the dog out of the bed would be the hardest job. She was relentless, jumping on his legs despite Maxim’s scoldings, yipping piteously at him. He was almost asleep when he felt the mattress dip again and a small weight settled next to his feet. Sighing, Maxim decided he was tired of kicking her out uselessly, and what Boris didn’t see would hurt no one.
_
The people seeking the services of the flower shop were more varied than Maxim first imagined. Lovers wanting to impress their sweethearts, gifts for mothers, presents for bosses about to retire, funerals, brides-to-be seeking their favorite blossoms… And even his comrade, Sasha. Alexsandr fucking Senaviev.
Maxim knew that Sasha’s family -ex wife and kids, as well as his sister- lived here, and that he used every chance he had to visit his children. With the city being as big as it was, the chance of stumbling into each other like this was astronomically slim, yet here they were.
At first Maxim didn’t realise who the customer was. He heard the door and barely directed a quick glance at it, knowing that people liked to look around the shop before coming to the counter. It was only when he heard a loud “Maxim, is that you?” that he looked at the person in question. Sasha looked different in civilian clothes. Maxim had almost expected him to wear a balaclava here too, and he couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at him.
“What are you doing here?” It sounded vaguely accusing and suspicious, yet Alexsandr laughed at Maxim’s borderline rude attitude and came to lean against the counter, as if he was in the bar rather than a flower shop.
“Is this your retirement plan, a secret life outside of Rainbow?” Alexsandr was grinning at him in that way that made Maxim feel like he was important and noticed. It was an absurd notion, and he hated feeling foolish. “Maxim the flower boy, who would have thought.”
“Are you going to buy something or not?” Maxim crossed his arms, annoyed.
“I saw you have this small potted cactus, and I think my little girl will love it.”
That was… reasonable. It could even be called cute, he supposed. Maxim nodded briskly and went to fetch a handful of the cacti. In the end Sasha picked the one with the shortest and softest spikes. So his ex wouldn’t yell at him for giving something that could hurt their daughter, he said.
“This is not my shop,” Maxim confessed while Sasha paid. “I’m helping my cousin for a few days, that’s it.”
He didn’t want any stupid rumours to spread, or worse, Alexsandr calling him flower boy again.
_
Maxim thought it was a one off thing. A coincidence, an isolated curiosity. He should have known better.
Alexsandr became a regular visitor at the shop, but not a customer. No, he was there to drive Maxim up the walls with his closeness and easy banter and acting like Maxim was an integral part of his life even now. Every day, he would invite Maxim out for lunch, or if he declined, to a few drinks after the flower shop closed. He stayed by Maxim’s side for the greater part of the day, and it was both familiar and comforting as it was exasperating. That mix of emotions was normal when it came to Sasha. He was an expert on eliciting fondness and irritation in Maxim’s heart, as well as something more dangerous that he avoided thinking about.
At his temporary home, when Zoya was the only witness to his wistful thoughts, Maxim allowed himself the truth of why Sasha’s presence during the day made him feel so lonely at night. He hated how he started to anticipate Sasha’s visits to the shop, how his heart would skip a beat when his comrade smiled at him in greeting. Maxim refused to set himself up for heartbreak, it was a stupid thing to do.
Thankfully, his interactions with Sasha didn’t carry any awkwardness despite Maxim’s private moments of weakness. Still, some conversations were harder to go through than others.
“What flowers would you use to tell someone you like them?”
He regarded Sasha as if he’d grown a second head, but the man was busy inspecting the daisies and didn’t notice.
“The flowers alone are usually clue enough,” Maxim deadpanned, because really, people didn’t go around giving flowers to others regularly, did they?
“Yes, but in the movies they use this or that flower because it means ‘I love you’, or some other contrived message. Has nobody asked you about that before?”
“What movies do you watch?” Maxim chuckled, because that sounded like old-fashioned romance movies, and picturing Sasha watching those was hilarious. Alexsandr remained serious, discounting the amused glint in his eyes, so Maxim shrugged. “No fucking idea. Red roses are always popular. But I would get a bouquet of whatever is your girl’s favorite flower.”
“And if I don’t know that?” Sasha appeared pensive, and Maxim swallowed the bitterness he felt when considering who might be the person motivating these questions. Lera deserved the best, and he had no right to feel jealous.
“Then picking flowers in her favorite color might be a good idea? I don’t know! I know shit about romantic advice, maybe the roses are popular for a reason.” Maxim shrugged, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.
To his relief, Sasha nodded as he got closer to the counter. “I like red. Red is a good, strong color.”
“Of course you think that, Mr. Red Army family.” Maxim couldn’t help teasing him, because Sasha did it to him all the time and payback was only fair.
“Red is a color suited for hunters too! Or do you prefer green?” Sasha literally poked him, and Maxim swatted his hand away, fighting to hide a smile.
“I don’t care about colors.” His declaration was met with a scoff of incredulity, and Maxim suddenly felt the urge to defend his position. “Colors are all a distraction, a way to either blend in the surroundings or give yourself away. Especially when it snows. When white covers everything you can see, colors are either meaningless or your death sentence.”
Alexsandr grunted. “I think red would make a nice contrast on white, like blood on the snow.”
He didn’t disagree. It was a vivid image, one that was alluring not despite its sense of danger, but because of it.
_
A couple of days later, cousin Boris was back home, and Maxim knew his time as a florist was ending. It wasn’t the worst experience ever, but it was also something he couldn’t see himself doing regularly.
He notified Sasha of the impending end to their new routine, and how he wasn’t sure what he would do now. They still had another week of free time, and Maxim didn’t think he would go back to Kovrov, but he wasn’t sure if he’d stay in the city either, or if Boris would even welcome him for a longer stay. Maxim wanted to say Sasha looked disappointed at the news, but it was a momentary thing.
Alexsandr promised him that tomorrow, his last day as a flower boy, they’d celebrate by going drinking. Getting properly wasted as a way of celebrating was a time honored tradition between them, something they used to do after every successful mission.
There was a strange energy between them for the entire day, which Maxim blamed on Sasha, who was acting weird. The man was usually calm and at ease, but today he kept glancing at his phone, checking the time, and Maxim didn’t believe for a second he was that eager to go drinking. He even disappeared for a time while Maxim closed the shop, and Maxim started considering that maybe something happened and they should postpone their little outing.
However, before he was even done locking the front door, Sasha was back, acting all suspicious and holding something behind his back. Maxim frowned at him. “What are you doing?”
As all answer, Alexsandr smirked and revealed what he’d been hiding. A bouquet where most of the flowers were white, except for a few striking touches of red. Maxim stared at it, stunned, and not realising it was meant for him until Sasha gestured at him twice to grab it. Up close, he could identify white camellias and red chrysanthemums, along with the sweet fragrance of jasmine. The yellow ones he thought were irises, but he wasn’t sure. It was lovely, and Maxim still couldn’t believe that Sasha actually meant this gesture. Surely not in the same way Maxim wanted to interpret it.
“What’s the meaning of this?” He scowled, eyeing the bouquet with unveiled suspicion.
“I thought the flowers alone would be clue enough,” Sasha said, and he could hit him for using Maxim’s own words against him in such a way.
He wondered if there was any meaning to the flowers, if there was a subtle message he was missing. After the conversation from a few days ago, he wouldn’t put it past Sasha to do something like that just to mess with him. “If this is a joke, it’s not a funny one.”
“A joke? I don’t joke about things that matter.” Sasha seemed a bit offended, and Maxim wanted to believe him. He really did. But he still doubted. Sensing his hesitation, Sasha sighed. “I know I said we’d go drinking, but I thought we could go to my apartment, have dinner and drinks there.”
The way he said it made it sound like a dare, and Maxim couldn’t resist a challenge. “I never say no to food.”
Alexsandr’s answering grin was so radiant that it could have melted Antarctica, and Maxim suddenly realised he’d agreed to what sounded like a home date. The revelation made him nervous in an exciting way, similar to what he felt during hunts. Except he was pretty sure he was the one who had fallen into a trap this time. It was fine. Maxim loved the allure of danger, after all, and this particular danger was one he’d wanted to explore for so long.
This would be one of the worst mistakes of his life, or the best decision Maxim ever made. There was only one way to find out, and judging by Sasha’s pleased expression and the warmth in his chest as they walked side by side, Maxim was content with his decision.
_________________________
About the bouquet Sasha gives Maxim, I like to imagine he went to another florist who wasn't phased by the request, they made Sasha talk about what he wanted to say and then put a bouquet together. According to my quick research, the flowers used there mean:
White camellia: You are adorable Red chrysanthemum: I love you (Spanish) jasmine: Sensualtiy Yellow iris: Passion
So what do you think Sasha was trying to say with that? 😉
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We all know that Aziraphale hates customers. But I submit that he LOVES grad students.
- if asked (by Crowley, solely to fluster his Angel) he will say that it's completely reasonable to love people who want to study and discuss books? And that feeling he gets when they come and ask him for help isn't Pride no. It just so happens that having lived for millennia means he's the best primary source on the planet. It would be selfish to not share his knowledge really. Why shouldnt he feel good about helping young people learn? So it's really only lowercase 'pride' at most...
- ...I mean, it's just harmless satisfaction that he is spreading knowledge like God intended. Err, probably intended. This knowledge isnt that Forbidden Knowledge so it's fine, right? They're way past that at this point. Surely there is no objection to knowing about books?
- if you were to ask Crowley, he will point out that grad students can't afford to actually buy any books. But no one has ever asked him
- back when the shop first opened, poor Aziraphale was struggling with the realization that people might get suspicious if never lets anyone buy any of his books. And in walks in some poor, exhausted student from Kings or London University who has spent the last 10hrs looking in every bookstore and library around for an original copy of 'The Tamer Tamed'. So they stumble in, turn to Aziraphale and ask if he has any 17th century editions of Fletcher's work. They just need to look at it bc every copy they've found has been edited.
- does Aziraphale have a 17th century editions of Flecher's 'The Woman's Prize, or The Tamer Tamed'? What an absurd question! He has the first edition, printed in 1647. Two copies in fact, one with notes in the margins written by an early actor that Aziraphale particularly liked. It was, after all, one of Crowley's favorite plays from that period.
- (Crowley claims that he has nothing to do with the plays popularity when compared to the work it was in response to, 'The Taming of the Shrew'. Yes, he preferred the feminist-leaning work by Fletcher, but it's not his fault the audience agreed with him) [1]
- the look on this students face when Aziraphale sits them down at his desk and brings over this folio - full of relief and gratitude - have the angel feeling a bit chuffed. So much so that, as he's closing the shop for the day, he tells them to come back tomorrow if they need another look. And thus one of the great student pilgrimages of London is born
- at the beginning of each term, new students make their way to this strange, magical bookstore run by a nice, possibly-immortal man. Group visits are discouraged, as they seem to make the owner nervous.
- fellow students (and sometimes professors) warn newcomers that the owner doesn't actually want people to buy any books. But if go and tell him that you just want to look at them for a class, he will let you come and look around.
- actually, browsing isn't recommended: depending on his mood, Mr. Fell (the owner) may encourage you to look around or he may decide to suddenly close early, or find some way to get you out the door. It's always safest to ask Mr. Fell for something specific, the more obscure the better: he likes it when he has the exact thing you're looking for
- there are snakes in the shelves - well, one snake, probably. Just like Mr. Fell, this snake has been hiding in the shelves since the store opened and never ages. It loves to jump out and scare customer, but is generally considered harmless unless you damage or mistreat the books. There are numerous accounts of people being bitten for dog-earing pages, putting cups on books, and general rudeness.
note: do not refer to the snake as Mr. Fell's pet. He tends to get rather indignant if you do (Mr. Fell, not the snake. If anything, you would think the snake finds Mr. Fell's reaction amusing) Think of it as his slightly terrifying roommate who occasionally hides in the shelves or curls up by/on Mr. Fell to nap
- A. Z Fell & Co had the world's least comprehensible business hours. He could be closed for days or weeks at a time, then open 24hrs for a month without explanation. Often, he would open at 4 or 5AM then close around lunch, then open again after he finished lunch (anywhere between 1 and 4PM). There was one 11 year span when the shop was almost always closed - university's saw a drop in grades in several departments until it finally opened again. If he recognizes you, sometimes you will arrive to find the store closed, only for him to suddenly open the door and let you in because he was "just about to open up".
- Mr. Fell can easily be bribed when someone needs to stay after closing or come in early the next day. Down the block and across the street is a bakery: it has had many names over the years, but it has been supplying students with bribes in the form of cream puffs, eclairs, Turkish delights, and other sweet treats since the bookstore opened. Students scrambling before a deadline got 10 cents off their purchase.
- while he never seems to know what day it is, or what year it is (see: immortal), he always remembers when it's time for exams because suddenly the shop is open at all hours, and Mr. Fell "just so happens" to have trays of sandwiches and fruit leftover, and wouldn't they help him finish it? It'll spoil, after all. Outside food and drinks are never allowed but suddenly there are little plates and napkins on a table by the door, and stacks of strange coasters from all over the world. Coffee is not allowed but tea is. Of course, everyone knows that Mr. Fell makes the BEST hot cocoa and if you put a coaster next to you, he will bring you a mug of cocoa, always at the perfect temperature.
- as revisions comes to a close, you will find almost a dozen students at Fell & Co. They will be slumped at a desk or curled up on the floor by the windows, cups of cooling cocoa and plates of healthy snacks left in places where they couldn't spill onto the books. Colorful blankets come out of a back room as Mr. Fell tidies up, smiling fondly as he drapes them over the slumbering students
- there are stories of people whose old, cruddy laptops seem to work better in the bookshop. People listening to music (quietly, of course) may notice that the songs that come up on shuffle are always exactly what they wanted to hear. Notes you could have sworn you left at home or lost show up at the bottom of your bookbag. Documents you should have lost when your computer crashed can be recovered. One Martin Pryce insists that in 2014, he brought his broken bike to the store and when he came out again, it was fixed. He actually went up to Mr. Fell as he closed shop and asked him about it but Mr. Fell insisted he had nothing to do with it. Martin says Mr. Fell sounded like he was telling the truth, but looked very pleased and muttered something about it being a "minor miracle", which is a bit much for a bike.
- if there are a thousand stories about Mr. Fell and his bookshop, there are just as many about the man in the fancy black car who comes around sometimes. Many have speculated on the nature of the men's relationship, ranging from torrid love affairs to blackmail to Dickensian-level family drama. But the only thing you really need to know is that when you see that fancy black car parked by the shop, you best just to home. The store is most definitely closed.
1. One account survives of the audiences reactions to the two plays. 'Shrew' was performed first and was "liked". 'Tamed Tamed' was performed after and it was "very well liked". Whether or not this account is from Crawley is impossible to say.
Now with a a furiously doting Crowley sequel
Aaaand a fanfic
#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#az fell & co#the secret is that Crowley is the one with the massive soft spot for kids#Aziraphale teases him about the bicycle for WEEKS#hasnt found out about Crowley paying the bakery to make cheap sweets for the kids for 200 years tho#imagine how much sugar they've eaten bc of him?#imagine the state of their teeth?#its very demonic#oops i forgot a read more i'm so sorry#to everyone whose dash it shows up on#valued customers tag
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Scenario to get creative with: Skyquake taking Dreadwing to brothel to "get loose" a bit. ;)
So I found this buried in my asks, and I’m shook because this is actually a VERY fun idea, so let’s fucking go, let’s get carried away with this fuckin idea.
“Ah ah ah, optics closed, brother.”
Dreadwing was usually the one in charge of their creation day celebrations, but this year, Skyquake wanted to take the reigns. Dreadwing, being a bit of a pushover for his little brother, allowed him to take this one. He knew Cybertron better than he did, so he was expecting something new, something exciting, especially given his tone. Dreadwing allowed his little brother to guide him, optics offline and walking to Primus knows where. Then he finally stopped.
“Okay, open!”
Dreadwing looked around. A bit of an odd building. It didn’t have anything on the outside, apart from a glowing neon sign, depicting a fem blowing a kiss. Dreadwing raised a brow.
“Okay, you got me. What is this?”
“The one thing that makes this place a million times better than Caminus.”
Skyquake paused, clearly wanting his brother to take a moment to think. It then clicked.
“Brother! Are you telling me we’re at a BROTHEL? That’s not even legal-”
“On CAMINUS. Here in Cyberton, they’re quite popular, and this one is the best of the best.”
“Primus sake, how many of these have you seen?”
“I’m not flinging myself at any pretty fem I see, brother. I just like supporting local businesses. Besides, you’ve been so tense with work lately, you deserve just one night to relax. Come on, you trust your brother, do you not?”
Dreadwing hesitated. Skyquake had promised he was going to pay for the evening, and his intentions seemed honest. It felt rude to say no, as uncomfortable as he was. He sighed.
“Fine. Just, make this easy for me, and...be in a different room when you do your thing.”
“Because you need to see my aft when I’m giving it to a fem.”
“Brother.”
“Sorry, sorry, just trying to ease the mood. Come on, follow me.”
Skyquake pushed past the front door, and were met with mechs and fems alike, greeting them loudly. Dreadwing let his brother walk up to the counter as he looked around. There was quite a pretty bunch of mechs and fems around. Freshly waxed and painted, some in the laps of paying customers, some bringing out drinks, and quite a few giving him the optic.
“So, in short, we’re here to celebrate!”
Dreadwing just tuned in to what Skyquake was saying. He was talking to an older fem, who was quite fetching herself. Claws that looked like daggers, and optics that glistened in greed, she looked like she’d have her fair share of prey. She gave him a look over, and chuckled.
“Mmm. Handsome thing, that one is. First time in here, darling?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re from Caminus, so this is...different.”
“Ah yes, these kinds of places are a big no no there, if I recall. Anyhow, don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of you both. A friend of Skyquake’s is a friend of ours, afterall.”
Skyquake shrugged as his brother gave him the side optic. While there was nothing wrong about visiting this place, Dreadwing was still kink shaming. Skyquake chuckled.
“Don’t look so nervous. They’re all quite kind, I assure you. Now, I’m paying for everything afterwards, I don’t want him to see just how much this is. He’s nosey like that.”
Dreadwing turned his helm away, a bit flustered to be caught in the act of peeking.
“I’m not nosey. I’m...observant.”
“Uh huh. Anyway, Is Maxima here tonight?”
“Yep, you’re lucky, she JUST got in. I’ll see if she’s willing to see you.”
“Maxima?”
Dreadwing found it odd that he was so specific on this particular fem. Skyquake scoffed.
“She’s just a fem. Don’t read too much into it.”
“You mentioned her by name, a bit late for that.”
The fem behind the counter chuckled, seeming to type something on her data pad, before leaning over at Dreadwing.
“Okay handsome, what do YOU like? You lookin’ for a wine and dine type, or a wham bam thank you ma’am?”
Dreadwing stammered. What a question to be asked. Skyquake snorted.
“We can’t afford taking ANYONE out tonight, so tell Cheesecake we gotta pass on that front. Just let him meet a few, see who he clicks with.”
“Can do. And Maxima just told me she’s got time to see you, so head to room one fifteen, you know where that is. Big blue, you’re with me.”
“Please don’t leave me alone. Not that you’re uh, not good company ma’am.”
Skyquake rolled his optics, patting his brother on his shoulder.
“If I didn’t trust them, we wouldn’t be here.”
Dreadwing sighed, before nodding. Skyquake left him to Primus knows where, and Dreadwing followed the fem ahead of him. She opened the door to a reasonable sized room, and the large couches signified it was meant as a sort of waiting room.
“Now, take a seat, we’ll have a few girls and boys pop in, see who you like. Once you find someone, you just come and give me a holler outside. Don’t be nervous, now.”
Dreadwing sat down, and let her leave. He was alone in this room now, and he felt tense. He had the occasional bout of intercourse, but that was SO long ago. Relationships of any sort just felt...odd to him now, as if the only other bot he could interact with, was his own brother. It was a bit sad, if he thought about it for too long. Enough so, that meeting all these mechs and fems did nothing for him. Some of the fems were pretty and sweet, some of the mechs were charming and handsome, but none of them really caught his optics. He was about ready to call it quits, when one remained.
“Hello. I’m Orion Pax.”
He was a small, cute little thing. Amongst the shiny paint jobs, fresh wax, and fish nets, he stuck out like a sore servo. Dreadwing couldn’t help but look at him up and down, perplexed.
“I’m sorry, you...work here?”
“As a part time job, yes. It’s nice to have a little extra credits to spend on the weekends. May I sit next to you?”
All the other’s did the same thing, but for some reason, this made him...nervous. He nodded however, scooting a bit to allow him to sit.
“Everyone is talking about how difficult you are to please. I take it you aren’t quite like your brother.”
“Primus I should hope not.”
That made little Orion chuckle. He pulled out a data pad from his sub space.
“You seem a bit tense. Poetry always relaxes me, personally. Would It help to read you something I wrote?”
“Please, I do love my fair share of poetry.”
The little bot cleared his vocal processor.
“Migrating answers
Beast of love discovers all
Bargain intertwined.”
“That’s...rather lovely. Did you write that?”
“Yes actually. I dabble in poetry in my free time, and more often than not, my sweetspark double checks my work.”
“Does...your sweetspark know you do this?”
“Of course. And he’s fine with it. He isn’t...around a lot, and sometimes you just need a big mech to-”
His face suddenly flared, and he hid it past his data pad.
“I..shouldn’t have said that, ignore it.”
Dreadwing chuckled, pushing the data pad down. What pretty optics, this little bot has.
“There’s...nothing really wrong with that, honestly. You like big mechs, and I like...well, you quite frankly.”
There was an odd moment of silence between them, before Dreadwing pressed his lips against his. There was no resistance, no uncomfortable tension. Dreadwing wanted him, and he clearly felt the exact same. Orion pulled away, cheeks still aflame. Even if this was just some kind of act to draw in more customers, Dreadwing didn’t care. It FELT honest, and the shy little poet angle was adorable. He was cute, innocent, and Dreadwing wanted to frag him till his processor malfunctioned. Orion clearly felt the same way, given how he lingered for a moment, before tapping his servo.
“I...have to go. Don’t forget my name.”
Dreadwing wanted to just take him here and now, but he was not the kind of mech to break etiquette, especially in new places. He waited for little Orion to walk out of the room, waited a moment, and the fem from before popped her helm in.
“So, you got your pick of the litter. Anyone-”
“Orion Pax. The small fellow.”
Realizing he sounded a bit too eager, he cleared his vocal processor. How desperate was he? Not even letting her finish her sentence. She chuckled, before motioning him to follow her once again.
“Let’s get you a room big guy. Feel like if I keep you two apart any longer, you’ll start breaking doors down.”
Dreadwing slipped past the other mechs and fems, and was brought to another room. It felt so much more intimate in here than the previous room. A nice, soft looking berth, soft music being played in the background, and the best part? A little Orion Pax. Standing there, in a rather thin looking night gown. The fem chuckled, nudging his side.
“Don’t let his size fool you. He’s sturdy.”
She slipped out, and Orion groaned in humiliation.
“I’m sorry about that, she uh, has no idea what she’s talking about.”
“Are you saying you’re NOT sturdy?”
Dreadwing had no idea where that question came from. He delivered it so eagerly, it made BOTH of their faces feel flushed. Orion rubbed the back of his helm, finally putting his gaze back upon him.
“I...I mean, I wouldn’t say THAT…”
Dreadwing had no idea he’d be so easily wooed by someone so small. Orion gestured to the berth.
“Do you uh, want a massage? We usually do that to kinda ease customers into it.”
“I don’t need easing in, to be frank.”
Dreadwing had no idea what came over him. He was on Orion like some hound dog, lifting him off the floor, and practically flinging him onto berth. He pressed his lips against his, and Orion did nothing to fight it. His little servos ran across his chest, dipped in between those nooks and crannies of his armor. Dreadwing savored those touches. Savored the way he groaned into his lips, savored the way he smelled even. Orion pulled away, servos lightly caressing his face.
“You...should open your spike panel. A big mech like you needs to be taken care of.”
It might have been just sweet talk, but Primus this little one had such a way with words. Dreadwing pushed off of him, popping open his spike panel. He was almost embarrassed, how pressurized his spike was already. There was greed in his optics, and he sat up, using his little servos to grab and stroke his girth.
“Something...tells me you aren’t as innocent as I thought previously.”
Orion chuckled, rubbing his cheek against the thick, eager spike.
“I...just like big mechs. And you’re as big as they come. You deserve to feel SO good.”
Orion pushed the tip past his lips, and Dreadwing felt himself tense up. Such a little mouth, with such a wanting, skilled glossa. His glossa was small, just like the rest of him, but with the way it circled around him, the way he let the drool dribble down his base. Dreadwing couldn’t help but have his helm toss back as the little mech only took him further. This wasn’t the first time he took a spike that size, he doubted it’d be the last. After a good, solid moment of lubing up his spike, Orion pulled away. Orion laid on his back, opening both his legs, and his valve panel. He made quite the show; playing and kneading at his already soaked folds. Dreadwing couldn’t help but stroke himself, and that seemed to only egg on the little bot.
“If I can be lewd for a moment...I want you to frag me as hard as you can. I want to feel that big, throbbing spike inside of me. And YOU want my little valve.”
He was right. Dreadwing leaned forward, putting his servo over his little chest, as if he’d try to run away from him.
“When you say as hard as you can, I do hope you understand I do not take that lightly.”
“Oh trust me, I know what I’m asking for. Come on big mech. Give it to me. Use me. Fuck me.”
Such pretty words, they could be poetry in itself. Dreadwing no longer hesitated. He pushed himself past the lips, and instead of taking it slowly, Dreadwing just stuffed himself right inside, fully and totally. Orion threw his helm back, little servos clinging to his back desperately.
“Are you hurt? Should I-”
“Don’t you pull out. Don’t you dare.”
That was all the permission Dreadwing needed. He was done being nice. He started thrusting into him, his hips clanging against his own. Dreadwing wasn’t merciful; having enough force in his thrust to move the berth itself. Orion’s mouth was a tool for evil, first being used to charm him into this berth, now using it to arouse him further. The way he cried out for him, the way he cried for more, the way he screamed, as if for mercy. Dreadwing kept his face shoved into that sweet, soft neck of his, and the little one wasn’t even spared his bites. Orion’s breath was hot, husky in his audial.
“You can bite me harder, big boy. Take a bite out of me, like I know you want.”
A good, harsh bite not only made his neck bleed, but made Orion squeal in ecstasy. Dreadwing knew he wasn’t going to last very long, not with a tight valve like this, not with a mech so hungry for his touch. When Orion grabbed fist fulls of his aft (with a rather surprising grip), he was forced into an overload. He panicked, realizing he was still inside, before he pulled out. He ended up showering the little mech in his pink, hot load. The sight of the little mech bathed in the afterglow, was enough to make Dreadwing want him yet again. Orion wiped his face with his servo, and licked it off, sighing in content.
“You...REALLY needed that, didn’t you?”
“More...than I thought, honestly. I apologize, I don’t know what’s the polite thing to do from here. Am I supposed to...give you a tip, or-”
“You gave me a LOT more than a tip, big mech.”
Orion chuckled, one hand leaning down to help ease fluids out of his gaping valve. This little mech was so quick witted, so eager to pull him further into affection. Dreadwing was about to go for a second round, when there was a knock at their door.
“Time’s up you two. Everything alright?”
“Just fine! He was just saying he wants to buy more time.”
Dreadwing was about to speak against that, as he said no such thing, until Orion held onto his helm, taking a nip out of his chin. Dreadwing lightly gulped.
“I...suppose I could use more time. It IS my creation day, after all.”
“Good to hear! Go on you two, I’ll check in later!”
As the voice left, Orion chuckled.
“Now that we have just a little more time...how do you feel about letting me at YOUR valve?”
-------------------------------------------
Dreadwing lost track of time as he walked out of that room. His brother had been waiting there for what seemed like a while, given the relief on his face.
“Primus sake, there you are! You were in there for SO long, thought someone was killing you or something.”
“I...apologize. I lost track of time.”
Skyquake chuckled, shaking his helm.
“Alright, let’s see the damage here…”
Skyquake handled the final bill for them both, and Dreadwing was too lost in his thoughts to peek over his shoulder. He did some rather...embarrassing things in there. Sure he liked it all, but he didn’t like figuring out all these secret kinks he seemed to have. No matter.
What were the odds he was going to see him again, anyway?
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The Space Between (your heart & mine)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f39e376073c9c02eb7fb822e0d9d1d2f/7a6b24b93fc07189-50/s540x810/d0d4b822bca21d37f4d8559ef86249c4da7e7e38.jpg)
Chapter 16 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr. Catch up on chapters 1-15 on Ao3.
Notes: 18+, explicit!!!! This chapter is the ‘burn’ of the slow burn we’ve been developing for 15 chapters. We’re finally there, for those of you who have been long-time readers. Please note, I’ve never written this much smut before. It’s A LOT, and I mean a lot of this chapter. M & F, oral receiving and penetration. Unprotected sex for the sake of storytelling, but please wrap it before you tap it IRL. Praise kink, because Din and Reader need validation. Some fun and adventurous positioning and activities. Also, very romantic ending.
Words: 9.1k update, 75.7k total.
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Having stepped into the dimly-lit club, your eyes took a moment to adjust and take in the scene around you. Low-slung leather chairs and booths were scattered throughout the dark room, their occupants being some of the more fearful individuals in the galaxy. These cruel and cunning men, however, were in varying states of disarray due to the large amounts of alcohol and spice that were brazenly displayed on the tables they were seated at. In addition to the smoke-stained booths, there were several raised platforms that held women who were twisting themselves around metallic poles, their bodies scantily clad as they danced sensually for the crowd of drunken onlookers.
And that was where you would find yourself shortly after being allowed into the club.
They had assumed you were one of the dancers.
A large, burly man grabbed you by the arm and you instinctively threw your elbow back into his gut at the sudden intrusion of your personal space, your arm connecting with a solid expanse of hard muscle. “C’mon, babydoll, don’t be so sensitive,” the man grumbled, hauling you towards the unoccupied pedestal. “Do your fucking job and don’t bitch about it.” He tossed you forward into the velvet-covered platform, and as you caught yourself on your hands, you understood that you had about three seconds to decide what you were going to do next.
Do you confront the man about the mistaken identity, and risk causing a scene? Risk losing the bounty, or possibly getting yourself hurt once they realize you’re not meant to be here?
Or do you get up there and find a way to make this unexpected plot change work for you?
Credit due to @knivesareout for the perfect moldboard and for her undying love for me and my fic.
Also tagging @soyelfuegoquearde for beta’ing my project and giving me all of the constructive criticism and positive feedback that has helped me grow as an author.
And my love @emmikmil / @bdavishiddlesbatch for her never-ending love and enthusiasm for Din and Reader.
I love you all so very much.
Chapter 16 - Read More
The things that you had heard in passing about Corellia were too kind in their assessment, and they had been harsh to start. There was a filmy scum that lingered in the air and clung to clothing, surfaces, even to the air in your lungs. The industrial planet was bleak and grim, and you were almost beginning to regret your offer to assist Din with this bounty; would it have really been so bad to hunker down here in the ship, sleep for a while, maybe even pick up a book in town to keep you entertained? However, you also knew that if you had to spend an undetermined amount of time cooped up in the ship, without Din, trying to manage the kid on your own, no view except that of a dirty industrial cityscape, being constantly terrified that Din could get hurt again — you would probably lose your mind. So you decided to step out into the grisly world of Corellia, Din at your side.
The towers of steel and metal that warped up towards the sky were certainly a departure from the organic beauty of Bardotta that you had grown accustomed to during the last job. You tried to find something appealing in the architecture, your eyes scanning the horizon, and came to the conclusion that there was certainly... dedication and precision in the construction, and that was something that you could appreciate. You needed to find something agreeable within it all.
The kid was sleeping in his cradle, the wampa having been tucked under his short green arm, left to rest in the ship during the course of what was predicted to be a short job. Din navigated the two of you through the dirty, narrow streets of the city and away from the shipyard. He didn’t seem to notice or mind the filth too much, as he stomped onwards through puddles, mud, trash, splashing it onto his clothing and armor — and being a bit more hygienically minded, you took the extra effort to keep yourself clean as you sidestepped what could reasonably be avoided. It was unnecessary self-preservation as the cleanliness of your boots probably didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things, but it was just in your nature.
Din was leading you both to a well-concealed speakeasy, known for hosting an intriguing assortment of characters that preferred to avoid the prying eyes of the galaxy, and partake in... questionable activities. Din had made contact with an acquaintance who was able to provide you with instructions for how to enter into the underground club, including the password that was changed frequently specifically to avoid situations like yours. It was mean to be a safe haven for the rich and powerful; there would be drinking, music, smoking, gambling, bloodshed, prostitution, drugs, fighting, and that was on a quiet night. Gods only knew what else the oncoming evening could hold. You weren’t particularly worried, however, knowing that the towering bounty hunter that stalked along in front of you would keep you safe if worst came to worst. And you didn’t have any significant worries about this job, the nature of it being simple and familiar.
The setup of this job was similar to the one you had helped with back on Canto Bight; you’d flirt with the target, have a drink, bat your eyelashes, and draw him away from the crowd with a thinly veiled proposition. It wasn’t rocket science, luring a man; there were quite a lot of things in life that were harder, like navigating a ship or even firing a blaster. And yet Din seemed incredibly nervous and stressed on your behalf, holding enough worry for the two of you. While you had grown used to periods of silence from him, this one felt different. This one had an undercurrent of tension that rolled off of him in waves, so thick you could almost see it — or maybe that was just Corellia, and you were reading too much into this.
The sun was beginning to set along the horizon, reflecting beams of orange and crimson and gold throughout the city’s structure; you remembered how Din had shared with you that his favorite color was orange, and you wondered if he was finding some sort of beauty in this moment as well, or if he had even noticed. He hadn’t said anything to you for quite some time now, having navigated you from the outskirts of the city and its shipyard, to the bustling urban center that housed a variety of species and droids that were frankly quite rude. You had been bumped into on more than one occasion without so much as an ‘excuse me.’ You figured you had just grown used to the niceties that were afforded on a planet like Chandrila, and reminded yourself that you had chosen to leave that place in favor of travel — which would include a change in attitudes and social customs. You still made a point to apologize to those you collided with though.
Having seen the industriousness of the capitol city here on Corellia, you were increasingly intrigued by what this speakeasy experience would be like. Din had informed you that it was a popular spot for those working with Crimson Dawn, the Hutts, the Pyke Syndicate — violent, ruthless individuals. The target for this evening was a Twi’lek who had been working for the Hutts, who had ‘mysteriously’ disappeared with a large shipment of spice; it was suspected that he had run off with it for himself, feeling brave enough to try and hide. It was a stupid choice, even you knew that — while Orron had never tell you much about the spice dealings, you still knew that double crossing the Hutts was borderline suicidal. The sheer confidence and conceit of such a bold move was intriguing, that couldn’t be denied; but hiding from the Hutts was nearly impossible, and his bold stupidity would be catching up with him today.
You had worked to prepare yourself adequately for the evening, having brought along a pack of supplies that would transform you into an appealing bait prior to your arrival. You had correctly assumed that dressing for a party before trekking through the city would be a poor decision, and you applauded yourself for your foresight, seeing the grim state that your clothing was now in. The sun was descending lower into the skyline and you knew that you were getting close to the destination, based on the projected timeline for the job.
Picking up the pace so you were now walking in stride with Din, you tilted your head in the direction of a small shop that would likely afford you some space in a fresher to change and finish preparing. He nodded silently in agreement and you disappeared inside, finding a young boy with mousy blonde hair sleeping behind the counter. He was startled awake by your unexpected entrance, and you tossed him some credits to accompany your question about where you would locate a fresher. He pointed to the back of the store wordlessly and you thanked him before disappearing.
You closed the door behind you and locked it securely, before stripping out of the clothes that had accumulated a fair amount of muck in the past hour’s journey. You wriggled your way into a sparkling silver dress that just barely skimmed your thighs, admiring the shimmer of the sheer fabric as it clung to your body. The dress choice had been intentional, the versatility of it appealing; you knew it would sparkle like diamonds when caught by bright lights, and would set off a soft, illuminating glow in low light. Either way, eyes would be drawn to you. You slid on a pair of white boots that propelled yourself a good four inches higher into the air, and added a few pieces of jewelry to round out the look. You pulled your hair out of the buns you had tied it up in, as it now fell around your shoulders in casual waves, and you put on just enough makeup to highlight your features. Assessing that you looked enticing enough, you slid back into your dark grey coat that would hide your glamorous appearance from the city-dwellers until your arrival at the club.
As you stepped out of the shop to rejoin your companion, you readied yourself to say goodbye for the evening, trying to shift your perspective to the job at hand rather than the part of you that was incredibly sad to be parted from Din. Even knowing that the separation was only temporary, you would still be eagerly looking forward to being reunited. Staring up into the visor of the helmet, you stepped closer to him and placed your arms on his hips, wanting to pull him in closely but also understanding that it may not be an appropriate choice as you were out in public. He placed a gloved hand on your shoulder and another on the small of your back, the helmet coming to rest against your forehead.
“Do you have the blaster? And the knife?” He asked, his voice sounding constricted even with the modulator. You were getting better at deciphering that which the modulator tried to hide.
“I’ve got the knife, but the blaster doesn’t really go with this outfit,” you joked, reassuring him that you were protected. “This’ll be easy, I promise.” You whispered, trying to build up his confidence and sense of security. “Just like last time. We can get the job over with quickly, and then go home.”
You heard a soft sigh come through the modulator as he nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll see you soon, Din.”
***
Getting into the club had been ridiculously easy, especially once the guard at the door saw the way that you were dressed. For being so secretive of a club, you were shocked at the ease with which you were able to sneak in; you assumed that they just didn’t worry too much when a beautiful young woman turned up at their door. Din was going to take more of a… back-door route into the club, dispatching the guard who protected the service entrance, and he would find a discreet place to hide and watch out for you and the target. You had kept the knife, and the comm that was connected to his, and you would alert him when you had lured the Twi’lek away from the party and the crowd. Din would then join the two of you, disarm and cuff the target, and then you would go home to the Razor Crest. It was a simple plan, with a hefty payout for an evening of easy work.
... Or so you had thought.
Having stepped into the dimly-lit club, your eyes took a moment to adjust and take in the scene around you. Low-slung leather chairs and booths were scattered throughout the dark room, their occupants being some of the more fearful individuals in the galaxy. These cruel and cunning men, however, were in varying states of disarray due to the large amounts of alcohol and spice that were brazenly displayed on the tables they were seated at. In addition to the smoke-stained booths, there were several raised platforms that held women who were twisting themselves around metallic poles, their bodies scantily clad as they danced sensually for the crowd of drunken onlookers.
And that was where you would find yourself shortly after being allowed into the club.
They had assumed you were one of the dancers.
A large, burly man grabbed you by the arm and you instinctively threw your elbow back into his gut at the sudden intrusion of your personal space, your arm connecting with a solid expanse of hard muscle. “C’mon, babydoll, don’t be so sensitive,” the man grumbled, hauling you towards the unoccupied pedestal. “Do your fucking job and don’t bitch about it.” He tossed you forward into the velvet-covered platform, and as you caught yourself on your hands, you understood that you had about three seconds to decide what you were going to do next.
Do you confront the man about the mistaken identity, and risk causing a scene? Risk losing the bounty, or possibly getting yourself hurt once they realize you’re not meant to be here?
Or do you get up there and find a way to make this unexpected plot change work for you?
You bit the inside of your lip to the point of bleeding as you quickly came to your decision. You brought yourself up onto the well-worn, blood red platform and into the blisteringly hot stage lights that were turned on you and the other dancers; taking a moment to pretend to bask in the cheers and lewd hollers that followed your entrance, you tried to get a feel for the rhythm of the music that you would now have to dance to.
Fuck, let’s hope they’re high enough to believe this.
Closing your eyes, you sank into the rhythm and melody of the music that the band was playing, and you began to move your body in time with it, trying to put on a show despite never having danced before a day in your life. This would be an awfully convenient time for some Force abilities to show up.
You had no such luck, but the drugged and drunk patrons didn’t seem to mind much; you were there for their amusement and pleasure, to fuel their egos and sense of power. You were also just one of several dancers; subtly turning, you observed the others so you could try and copy their fluid and sensual movements, the muscles in your thighs and core being worked in ways that you had not experienced before. You kept an eye out in the room for the target, and eventually you spotted him sitting about three booths away, a group of nasty looking mercenaries at his side.
Alright, let’s get this over with before my legs give out.
Batting your painted eyelashes at him, you winked at the Twi’lek and blew him a kiss before turning your focus back to the dance that you were trying to pull off.
The band changed songs, and the other dancers kept going, adjusting to the new tempo and you assumed that’s what was expected of you as well. You wondered when this would end, when you would have an opportunity to get this night over with — your legs were burning as you stretched, bent, spun, flexed in different and new ways, all while trying to maintain some semblance of decency — you didn’t want anyone but Din to look at you how these men were.
Keeping your focus on the target, you saw the Twi’lek man gesture to the burly man who had brought you up here; a quiet conversation took place during which he pointed directly at you, and then you witnessed the Twi’lek hand the man a stack of Imperial credits.
He was buying you.
It was a departure from the original plan, but then again everything about this night had been. The original plan had been left in the dust, and you just hoped that Din would be able to keep pace with the changes. Following the men’s transaction, you watched as the Twi’lek disappeared through a hallway into a private room, and the large man made his way to the platform you had been brought to. Coming to a halt in front of you, he grunted something entirely unintelligible over the sounds of the music and the crowd, but the meaning was not lost on you. Your services had been bought.
You climbed down from the platform, the glow of the hot stage light leaving you, and you sighed in relief; the man pointed in the general direction of where the Twi’lek had gone and you wordlessly took your cue to join him. Slinking your way through the tables, you ran your hand along the knife that had been carefully concealed, hidden underneath your dress and pressed against your ribs; you were suddenly very grateful for Din’s insistence that you carry it. You then retrieved the small comm from the bosom of your dress, having cleverly hidden it there; you pressed the button on the side once, twice, three times, alerting him that you were moving and the final phase of the plan was in action.
You arrived at the end of the hallway to find the door to the private room; it was one of many discreet doors, but this was the only one that was cracked just slightly to indicate to you where to go. Feeling your heart start to race, you hoped that Din would be close behind you, as the thought of being alone with this man for an extended period of time was admittedly quite terrifying; the thought that he had bought your... services, and would be expecting you to engage accordingly, made your skin crawl. The nervousness that you hadn’t felt previously was starting to catch up with you, and you had a bit more understanding of why Din had been as concerned as he was.
You could feel an acidic, stabbing pain of nervousness in your gut as your feet carried you closer and closer to the dark walnut door. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, pushing that nervousness and fear away, you knocked softly on the door to indicate your arrival. You stepped into what was a surprisingly clean and relatively quiet room; it was free from the colorful and flashing lights of the rest of the club, instead being dimly lit with candles that illuminated comfortable-looking furniture, and a table with a bottle of sparkling wine.
You turned your gaze to the Twi’lek in front of you; he wasn’t unattractive, but the fact that he had the audacity to try and purchase sex from a woman — no, he wasn’t even purchasing sex from a woman, it was from a fucking pimp — was nauseating, and the smugness that rolled off of him threatened to make your nose turn up in disgust. Forcing aside your personal assessments, you smiled at him and took a seat next to him before pouring you each a glass of wine. You knew you needed to focus on playing your role and getting the job over with.
Taking a sip of the wine you had poured, the carbonation tickled your nose and you giggled instinctively, not accustomed to the sensation. The man took it as an indication of interest, however, and his hand moved to your upper thigh, pushing the hem of your dress to the side. He downed the rest of his drink quickly before turning to place his other hand on your shoulder — and then his body was moving closer and closer towards yours, and your heart pounded, your head screamed at you to get the fuck out of here, where is Din, fuck, should I kill this guy?
Right at the moment that you had moved to make a grab for your knife, the heavy wooden door you had walked through opened quietly and you breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the beskar that glowed in the lamplight. The Twi’lek kept his hands where they were on your body, but turned from you to speak to the intruder, growling, “Hey buddy, get the fuck outta here, can’t you see we’re busy?”
You winced and concealed a laugh, knowing that while this man may not die tonight, he would not be feeling too great once Din was done with him. The door closed and the three of you were concealed from the party, contained in the privacy of the room together. Before the man had time to touch you any further, Din reached out to grab the Twi’lek and roughly hauled him off of you, only slightly throwing his body into the glass table that shattered on impact.
You didn’t need to see Din’s face to know that he was absolutely livid. Having been removed from the unwanted grasp of the Twi’lek, knowing that you and Din were both safe, there was a part of you that got a sort of thrill from the protectiveness that Din displayed for you. It was also shockingly and undeniably attractive watching him rough the guy up, and your biological, hormonal response to the sight caught you a bit off guard.
The Twi’lek was unconscious, but thankfully not dead; after having been thrown through a glass table by your protector, he was... quite easy to disarm and handcuff. After Din had thoroughly secured the situation at hand, he stomped over to you angrily, the force of his steps echoing around you, and you could feel the rage and possessiveness that was positively boiling underneath the armor. “Are you alright?” He asked brusquely, pulling your scantily clad body into his heavily covered one.
“Yes, Din, I’m fine — things didn’t go exactly to plan, but I’m—“
He cut you off as he brought his hand down to cover your eyes— surprised, you started to recoil on instinct, until you heard the click of his helmet being removed; and then his lips were on yours, kissing you greedily and intensely in a way that you had never experienced before. Instinctively, your hands reached out to pull him closer into you and you were hit by an absolute tidal wave of need for him. You bit down on his lip, an animalistic drive taking over your body, and he growled underneath you. “Fuck,” he grunted, pulling away from you but keeping his hand securely over your eyes. “Fuck, fuck, not here — get you home —“
You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or not, but you whined as your body screamed out for more contact, more attention than what you were receiving. You heard the helmet click back into place and your chest deflated, knowing that you would not be getting what you needed; at least not yet. His hand moved away from your eyes and you saw Din standing in front of you, breathing heavily and roughly. You clearly weren’t alone in your own desires, but Din at least had the foresight to know that this was not the time or place.
He wordlessly turned to grab the unconscious man and haul him out, being rougher than you had expected as the man’s head knocked into the door frame with a thud. You followed along behind him, trusting him to know what he was doing despite the adrenaline and the hormones that were rushing over you both like Naboo’s waterfalls. He navigated you carefully out of the speakeasy, until the two —no, three— of you were back into the cool, muggy evening air of Corellia. You saw a guard had been dispatched by Din at the back door, and a M-68 Landspeeder that was presumably stolen was waiting for you. Din lifted the unconscious body into the back seat and allowed it to slump over before he was then reaching out to grab you, his hands planted tightly on your waist as he lifted you up, as though your weight was nothing for him, and set you down into the passenger seat of the speeder before climbing in next to you.
The journey back to the ship was blessedly short compared to the initial journey into the city, thanks to Din’s questionable acquisition of a vehicle, but it was just as silent as the day’s earlier journey had been. You weren’t sure of what was going on in Din’s head, but you knew that you were aching to get back to the security of the ship and to be able to be alone with him. You felt excitement blooming within you as the Razor Crest came into your line of sight, but Din remained maddeningly silent.
He got the limp body securely sealed into carbonite with impressive speed, before picking your tense and wanting body up and out of the vehicle. Much to your surprise, he didn’t set you down on the ground, but rather carried you up the ramp and into the ship you both knew as home.
You could feel the adrenaline and desire pumping through your body as you felt Din’s strong arms wrapped around you, carrying you gently but with a force and determination that was a bit nerve-wracking. You were fairly certain that you could hear his heart hammering against the beskar chest plate that you were pressed against, and his gloved hands just barely dug into your skin, making your heart race in anticipation for what was undoubtedly about to come next.
The lights in the cabin of the ship had already been turned off, and your sense of anticipation heightened with the deprivation. Din takes his helmet off in the dark. He placed you down unexpectedly, your feet fighting to keep you upright, and that coupled with the darkness was momentarily disorienting. He stepped closer into you, his frame eclipsing yours as you were backed into the wall of the cabin and you could feel the steel paneling against the skin that your silver dress had left exposed. The cold steel coupled with the desire that was burning through you, radiating from your core, gave you an intense sensory overload that left your chest rising and falling rapidly as your breaths became more shallow, a soft whine arising from you.
Your hands reached out, grasping for any bit of Din that they could reach, and you somewhat forcefully dragged him into you, using his body to pin yourself against the wall of the ship. You heard a grunt come through the modulator and the fire inside you crawled up your chest as you told him in no uncertain terms to “Take that off, right fucking now.”
You heard the helmet drop to the floor not a second later, with no regard for its integrity — but honestly, it was beskar, you’d be more worried about the integrity of the floor than the helmet — and the impulsiveness of the gesture only fueled the scorching fire that was running through your veins, setting every nerve ending alight. Finally having been freed from the restrictiveness of the helmet, Din growled your name under his breath as he leaned in to kiss you, echoing the fierce desperation with which he had kissed you in the speakeasy. His arms wrapped around you in a vice as his hands grabbed your ass, and he licked into your mouth, the heat and the taste of his tongue making you moan underneath him reflexively. You kissed him deeper, needing to be as close to him as possible — the cool beskar pressing into you made him feel even more domineering, powerful, but you resented its presence and the way it barricaded you from Din’s body.
“Never doing that again — not going on another job with me —“ Din grunted, his words partially lost in the heavy, bruising kisses he was trailing up your neck. “Saw you— saw you dancing, saw that motherfucker pay — should’ve killed him —“
God, the possessiveness and the protectiveness was fucking hot. There was something within you that reveled in his intense desire to protect you and keep you to himself. Memories of the fresher came back to you, how he had called you his good girl, and the prospect of hearing those words spoken into your soft skin again made you achingly wet for him. You sighed into him, your body melting underneath his touch as he kissed and harshly bit at the soft skin of your neck, loving the way his teeth felt scraping and sinking into you. It felt as though there was a storming, angry ocean of desire and desperation crashing into you ceaselessly, so overwhelming that you worried you might drown in it before Din would be able to give you what you needed.
You tangled your hands into the hair that you noticed was growing even longer, the curls feeling so real and so human, despite the forced disconnect of armor and anonymity. “Din,” you sighed, tugging his curling hair gently, trying to pull him out of the smoldering anger he was experiencing, and back into this moment with you. You didn’t want to hear any more about the job, the club, any of it — you wanted to hear Din tell you that you look so pretty taking his cock, you’re his good girl, your pussy feels better than anything in this galaxy.
“My girl,” he whispered roughly, digging his fingers into your exposed skin, the warm baritone of his unfiltered voice setting off butterflies — and for a moment you wondered if he could actually read your mind.
You nodded in agreement —you’re his girl, always — whimpering as one of his hands moved from your backside to roughly cup your breast; you felt the aged leather of the glove against your skin and realized he was all too clothed in comparison to your exposed form. Your dress had shifted to bunch around your waist as Din had pressed you into the wall, progressively revealing more and more of you to him. You reached out to grab his gloved hand, bringing it up from your chest and to your flushed face. He paused for a moment, waiting to see what you were doing; and then you brought his hand up to your soft mouth, gently biting down on his thumb and pulling the glove off with your teeth. The taste of gunpowder and leather lingered on your tongue, and there was some small piece of you that got a thrill from it.
It had been an experimental move, one that you weren’t sure how he would respond to, but the groan that echoed through him shot your adrenaline and confidence sky high, knowing that you made that happen, knowing that you were giving him what he wanted. And although he had you pinned against the wall, you still tried valiantly to remove some of the layers that separated you — you needed to feel his skin against yours, needed to be able to kiss him all over, wanted to taste him, wanted to feel him in new ways.
He took your cue and backed up slightly, allowing your chest the room to expand with much-needed deep breaths as he rushed to pry the armor and equipment off of himself, each thud and clang of beskar on the floor sending stronger and stronger waves of heat through your body; you wondered if this is what it was like to catch fire under the unforgiving suns of Tattooine.
You heard something soft and distinctly not-beskar land next to the two of you, and assumed that he was finally beginning to work his way out of his underclothes. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants and yanked him back towards you forcefully, needing to feel the heat of his body pressed against yours. You could feel the defined muscles of his abdomen, the assorted scars that scattered his frame, the broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms; you kissed down his neck and to his chest, biting down harshly and then soothing the area with your tongue, loving the way that he writhed and moaned against you as he held you against himself.
Your hand moved down from the wide expanse of his shoulders to palm at the rock hard erection that was unfortunately still barricaded by Din’s pants; and as you curled your fingers around his cock, Din growled and gathered the sheer fabric of your dress in his hands, pulling it down rapidly and aggressively, leaving you to try and extricate your arms from the delicate straps before he ripped it entirely off of your body. Eventually shimmying yourself free of the dress that had blessedly remained intact, you felt the pile of tulle and sequins fall to your feet. You kicked the garment away from you, a subtle hint to make Din distinctly aware of how exposed you now were. You pulled at the rough utility fabric that concealed the lower half of his body, that concealed his throbbing erection that you so desperately needed to feel within you — and Din stepped out of the clothing, the two of you breathing heavily at the amount of skin to skin contact you now shared; you wondered if he had ever been this bare, this exposed, with anyone before.
Although it was dark within the cabin of the ship, you knew each other’s bodies well, having spent several nights sleeping together, and your previous interactions during the shower having brought you closer than ever before. Your breath hitched in your throat as you had a sudden feeling of nervousness; you couldn’t understand why you were suddenly anxious, as this was something you had wanted for so long — but apparently you weren’t the only one with some nerves. Din’s breath shook as he pulled your body into his, whispering your name. “I don’t know that the bunk will be, ah... comfortable, or, you know, enough... space.”
That was a fair consideration, remembering how close you slept next to him; it wouldn’t offer enough space for anything other than sleeping.
An idea occurred to you; you leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, before you pulled away from his grasp, the chill of the cabin catching up with you as you crossed to retrieve the well-loved blankets from the bunk as you placed them onto the floor, creating a makeshift bed for the two of you. “Problem solved,” you whispered, grabbing his hand and guiding him onto the softened surface with suddenly confident steps.
He laughed gently, and you could feel a smile working its way to his face as you kissed him. He swung you up into his arms with ease, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carefully brought both of your exposed and nude bodies down to the floor. You were acutely aware of how his muscles flexed and contracted as he held you closely, his sculpted and scarred body feeling incredible as it laid on the floor next to yours. Now, being able to effectively move and maneuver yourself around him, you were emboldened to try something you had never done before, feeling confident as your adventurous ideas had been well-received so far.
Your soft and gentle hands pressed Din’s wide shoulders down into the unyielding floor and he complied, willing to let you have the control right now. You positioned yourself over his body so that your head was pointing in the direction of his feet, while you propped yourself up above his impressive, large frame on your palms, the arch of your back offering him a perfect view of how wet you were for him, damn near dripping onto his chest. He groaned explicitly as you bent forward to take his cock into your mouth, and you could feel the tension moving through his body as you took him deeper into your throat, your tongue swirling around him and tasting every exquisite, velvety inch of him.
You were relieved when Din’s broad and calloused hands came up to rest firmly on your ass, understanding what you were needing from him, and he pulled your aching center down to his stubbled jawline, to allow his tongue to trace gently over your clit, finally offering you the pleasure and stimulation that you had been needing since Din had kissed you feverishly in the club. You felt your eyes roll back with a wash of pleasure and relief as he sucked gently on the bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue across it in rhythmic circles, occasionally allowing his tongue to explore further into your body and enjoy all of the wetness you offered him — and you hummed in satisfaction against his thick cock, as you moved your mouth up and down his length, enjoying the wet sounds sounds it produced as you continually swallowed around him, loving the deep grunts and animalistic groans you received in response. The humming must’ve added some enjoyable stimulation for him, as you tasted his precum on your tongue; and then he slid two fingers into your tight cunt, working to open you up to be able to take the considerable length of his cock. You loved the deliciously wet and sloppy sounds that came from the two of you; your mouth, as you continuously drug your tongue along the underside of the cock that was hitting the back of your throat, and your pussy as Din finger-fucked you on the floor of the ship.
He added a third finger to your tight entrance and you instinctively cried out at the stretching sensation, your body writhing as his thumb moved to tweak continuously over your clit with varying levels of pressure.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Din sighed with a laugh. “If you think three fingers is a lot, you’re in for a surprise.” His voice sounded like gravel, rough and breathy and cracking beneath you, sending you higher and higher with his cocky assessment. Well, you were never one to shy away from a challenge.
You could feel the weight of your orgasm building within you, the heady and hot tension that had coiled at your center spreading its way out to your stomach, your thighs, threatening to break at any moment. Your muscles constricting, you chased that peak, that high, and your mouth slid off of Din’s cock as you gasped for air — “Din, fuck, Din, I’m gonna cu—“
And then he quickly pulled himself away from you, right as you were right there, and you cried out in exasperation and frustration at having been denied your orgasm; your entire body was screaming with anger and deprivation, and you felt as though you might shatter with all of the tension.
His body moved away from underneath you as you came to rest against the makeshift bed of blankets, and in the dark, you had absolutely no idea what was going on or why he had done this to you. “Din, what the fuck?” You hissed angrily, your hands reaching out to try and grab him and bring him back to you. But then you suddenly felt two strong, familiar hands grasp your waist from behind, and you were abruptly yanked upwards by your waist and onto your knees, the blankets ruched up underneath you; the disorientation of the darkness was intimidating but also incredibly exciting — although you were still somewhat pissed at Din for his asshole move.
You were on all fours, desperately waiting for Din to do something, anything.
“Look at my pretty girl, waiting so nicely for me.”
You felt Din’s muscled thighs and his thick cock press up against your exposed backside; you were able to determine that he was on his knees behind you. You whined in anticipation, not minding the hint of desperation that crept in with it.
“Gods, look at you. Fucking dripping wet, making a mess for me. Is that all for me, sweet girl?” He hmmed confidently, dipping his finger inside of you and bringing your wetness up to his mouth for a taste. “Bet you’re just dying to take this cock, to cum on it for me, aren’t you?”
You whined once more, a small, needy sound that would’ve been embarrassing had you not been so desperately wanting to cum after your earlier denial; your muscles still quaked and tensed as you hovered right on that edge. You pressed your ass further back into him, trying to get some sort of stimulation against your aching cunt, but Din just cupped your ass and pressed your shoulders down into the floor; you felt the wool blanket against your cheek as you writhed against him in frustration.
“Please,” you whispered.
“Please... what?” There was a somewhat maniacal edge to his voice and you felt a thrill of anticipation shudder through you.
“Din, please!”
“Please what?” His voice cut through you like steel.
You could feel the blunt and swollen head of his cock pressed against your throbbing entrance, and fuck, while you didn’t want to beg you couldn’t help it any longer, the unyielding desperation coursing hotly through you as you just gave in to what Din wanted. “Fuck, Din — please, please fuck me, please let me cum for you —“
A satisfied chuckle coming from deep within his chest, Din finally pressed forward into you with a ragged, shaking moan — and the resulting moan that came from your body echoed his own, as he buried himself impossibly deep into your tight and soaking cunt, while effectively pinning your shoulders to the floor and rendering you immobile. You had thought you would be prepared for the sheer size of him, the girth, the length that you had taken in your mouth and throat, but it was unlike anything you had ever experienced before — he really had been right in saying that three fingers wouldn’t compare.
For a brief moment you wondered if you would even be able to take all of him inside you — and your question was quickly answered as he pulled back from you, dragging his cock along your inner walls, before his hips snapped forward to slam into you with a shocking and devastatingly incredible force. Feeling his cock sink deeper and deeper into you, your body offered little resistance to this pleasure as you cried out at the stretching and filling sensation, hurting but in a good way that just made you crave him even more.
Din’s hands found their place along the bend of your hips as he pushed and pulled your willing body into his; and with each thrust forward penetrating you even deeper, you felt the edges of your mind starting to go white-hot with pleasure once more. You reveled in the sounds he made, needy and wanting, loving that he wasn’t one to shy away from letting you know just how fucking incredible this felt for him, too.
This was unlike anything you had ever experienced with a man before, Din was unlike anything else in this galaxy, and you knew that even if you spent a hundred years with him you would never get enough of this feeling — the feeling of his throbbing, veined cock dragging against your sensitive walls, hitting spots inside of you that you never even knew existed. You could feel the ever-increasing slickness of your cunt that allowed for him to slide in and out of you repeatedly, while the lower half of your body started to constrict with that same heat of pleasure that he had ripped away from you just moments ago — but that didn’t matter anymore, you had no room for grudges as he completely filled both your body and mind.
He said your name over and over, the sound spilling from his lips like a prayer, like a curse, like a promise — and you reveled in the sheer adoration of each utterance that tumbled from him. You wished that you could give him the same verbal adoration and praise that he offered you, but you were completely incapable of doing anything except making lewd, high-pitched, unintelligible sounds that echoed and radiated through the walls of the ship, becoming more desperate with each powerful thrust into your clenching and tight cunt.
“Gods, I knew you’d take my cock so f-fucking good, look at that — such a pretty girl, such a g-good girl — fucking knew you’d feel incredible from the m-moment I saw you, wanted to fucking split you in half on my cock —“
The praise and dirty words Din offered you tickled a previously-repressed, unexplored part of yourself and after this awakening you wanted more of it. Seeking out that praise and reinforcement, you decided to take back some control in this situation and initiate something more — Din had you fairly well pinned against the floor, his hips ramming his cock into you relentlessly, but you were able to shift your arms in a way that allowed for you to reach around the back of your thighs and spread yourself open even further for him. Your movement caught him off guard as his hips snapped into yours forcefully, his cock penetrating so far into you that you thought you may never recover from it — and the force of his thrust collapsed both of your bodies into the floor as a guttural fuck escaped from him.
You felt his broad chest and the heaviness of his frame crushing you into the floor, but you didn’t mind, loving the pressure of his full body weight against you while his cock was buried inside you so deeply that you could feel him twitching inside of you, could feel each beat of his heart pulsating through his body.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” he gasped, pushing himself up off of your body and off of the floor. “I don’t know what the fuck you just did, but I’m going to need you to do that again for me.”
You grinned, somewhat delirious from all of the stimulation and physical sensations you had experienced here on this makeshift bed. And yet for all of the wonderful, amazing, beautiful things you had felt — you still hadn’t cum, and your very skin felt as though it was crawling with a fire that left you aching with every second that passed by. You wanted to cum, wanted Din to make you cum; and you wanted to make him cum in return, giving each other the release and bliss you had been wanting since your first meeting on Chandrila. If you were to tell the truth, you’d tell Din that you had wanted him from the very first day, even though you had fought so hard to quell those feelings.
You couldn’t see well in the darkness that shrouded the cabin — couldn’t see anything, to be honest — but you could feel your hands connect with Din’s shoulders and you shoved him back down onto the floor, appreciating his willingness to follow your lead. Your hands traced gently down his body, feeling every hard line and ridge of him, feeling every scar, and loving every inch of him that he had allowed you to see, at least in this way. You swung your legs over his waist and positioned yourself above him, guiding his thick and still-wet cock back inside of your tight and enveloping cunt; the two of you gasped at the sudden, clenching contact and rush of adrenaline, and you began to ride him in earnest, loving the sound of your skin slapping against his as you crashed into him over and over and over again.
“Gods, you just love it when I ride your thick cock like this, don’t you, Din?” You said with a malicious grin, hoping to draw out the same kind of dirty words he had given you earlier. “Just falling apart for me so easy—“
“Fuck, yes, I do love it my sweet —“ He choked out, his hands finding their way up your body and coming to rest at your breasts, tweaking your hardened nipples with his rough touch. “Love watching that tight pussy take my cock, love how you feel on me, love how you taste — you’re just so fucking incredible—”
“Show me how much you love it,” you challenged, an edge creeping into your voice. “Cum for me.”
His groans turned into irregular grunts of pleasure as he moved to hold your body in place, restricting your movements as he fucked up into you, sounds spilling forth from him. “Believe me, I will cum for you — I’ll cum inside that sweet, perfect pussy. But you’re gonna cum for me first, sweet girl.”
Din’s threat— or promise, depending on your perspective — echoed through you and a crashing tidal wave of need threatened to collapse your chest and inhibit your very breathing. Your body was positively aching with tension and strain now, your muscles screaming out in exhaustion — you needed to cum, you needed the release, you needed to fall over that peak and then rest next to Din. “Yes, please, please, please,” you cried, each word becoming more and more deranged and desperate than the last.
“Tell me what you need, sweet girl,” Din panted roughly, continuing to hold your shaking body in place as he fucked into you relentlessly.
You weren’t sure what you needed except more of Din, and you didn’t even know how to ask for that as he was clearly giving you everything he had, thrusting up into you and offering up each and every groan of pleasure that your pussy wrung from him. More. You just needed more.
“Kiss me, Din Djarin.”
He laughed softly and you could hear the smile in it; for all of the dirty words and debased, debauched actions, this sweetness was what you wanted and what you needed. He pulled your body in close to his, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before rolling the two of you over so you were now laying against the blankets. His cock never left your center, even in the transition; and then his hands brought your legs up to rest on his shoulders and he began drilling into you with an unholy force, crumpling your body in half with each thrust as he bent downwards to kiss you. He was panting and you could feel a bead of sweat drip from his forehead as he worked to get you there, fighting off his own orgasm, needing to get you there first.
As his lips pressed repeatedly into your soft and hot flesh, you could feel it coming on; that tense and aching heat coiled within you, your back arched up from the floor, and your hands rose up to pull Din in closer to you, gripping his hair forcefully. You couldn’t see anything in the blackness of the ship but your vision was changing regardless, as your body readied itself to jump from that cliff, giving you the release you needed. “Din—“ you gasped out, your muscles constricting.
“Yes, yes, cum for me sweet girl — wanna feel you cum on my cock,” Din grunted, thrusting into you with each word. He leaned in to kiss you once more and it was everything you needed.
It felt as though a seismic charge went off inside the small ship, your muscles contracting and quaking as your body was taken over by wave after wave of undulating pleasure. Your skin felt like it was vibrating at a new frequency, each nerve ending heightened and feeling overstimulated as you cried out in unintelligible but unmistakeable pleasure. Your cunt clenched around Din’s cock, spasming with each new wave of pleasure that overtook your body.
Din snarled at the feeling of you clenching and coming undone around him and you knew that he was close; you drug your nails against his scalp, his hair tangling between your fingers, and you leaned up to gently capture his earlobe between your teeth, tugging slightly. “Want you to cum for me, Din. Want you to cum inside me.”
The rapid movements of his hips became increasingly irregular until you felt the heat of his release within you, his body collapsing on top of yours as he inhaled deep and ragged breaths, you could feel him shaking on top of you, could feel his muscles and his cock twitching as he was lost to the overwhelming pleasure of his orgasm. Hot ropes of Din’s cum coursed through your pulsing and throbbing cunt, coating you and filling you in a way that made you writhe in pleasure and self-satisfaction; you couldn’t help but think of the way you’d be left dripping from him, a mix of both of your orgasms coating you in a messy, magnificent bliss. When he finally pulled away from your feverish and trembling body, you felt the mix of fluids cascading down your thighs in a way that almost made you want to climb on top of him again.
You were both left entirely breathless, every ounce of energy spent in giving the other what they needed and had been denied for so long. Din’s body rolled off of yours, allowing you to breathe deeply and you inhaled lungfuls of cool air, quieting the fire that coursed through your body. His chest taking deep and ragged breaths, he pulled you in close to his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as he sighed and kissed every inch of exposed skin that he could reach. You were utterly wrecked, entirely devastated, and more blissfully happy than you ever could have imagined you could be.
This life was turning into everything that you had ever wanted, and feared you would never get. You felt tears of happiness pricking at the corner of your eyes, and you smiled into Din’s chest, never wanting to leave this moment.
He must’ve felt the tears that had slipped out and onto him; bringing your face up to his, his hand cradling your cheek gently, he kissed your forehead. “Sweet girl, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you whispered, a brilliant grin spreading across your face. “Everything is perfect. You’re perfect. This life here, with you, is perfect.”
You would later blame it on the rush of dopamine and oxytocin, but truth be told, you could no longer deny the truth to either yourself or to Din. Feeling emboldened and safe in this space with him, the truth tumbled forward from your lips, unable to be concealed any longer.
“I love you, Din Djarin.”
It felt beautiful and exhilarating to speak it out loud, to acknowledge the truth of your feelings. You didn’t even necessarily need for Din to say it back; that’s how secure you felt in this moment, in this feeling of love. You would love him endlessly, would love him through hell or high waters, would love him whether you were right next to him or lightyears away. You couldn’t hold back the truth, and nor did you want to. You loved Din Djarin, more than you had ever loved anything in existence, and while it was exhilaratingly terrifying, it also felt like the safest, most comforting thing in this galaxy.
And it was a whole new kind of bliss that was revealed to you when he spoke to you in response.
“And I love you.”
#Din Djarin#Pedro Pascal#Din Djarin fic#Din Djarin x Reader#the Mandalorian#Mandalorian fanfic#Din Djarin fanfiction#the space between
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Dreamcatcher Minji x Male Reader
6644 words
categories: smut, oral, creampie, employee minji
Read on AFF
Note: Brief mention of Dreamcatcher members from nsfwtwicecatcher’s stories.
Life works in mysterious ways.
Walking into a convenience store can be quite the stimulating experience.
The familiar tune of the doorbell being rung upon entering. The relieving rush of air conditioning. Thousands of plastic packages covered in bright colors ranging from simple descriptions of the item with cutesy cartoon animal characters to promotional shots of the model approving of the product.
It can be hard to navigate the refrigerated section of triangle kimbap with various fillings or the hundreds of bottles of tea in assorted flavors.
From wanting to expand lunch options, picking out the best snack for a quick break from life, or finally finding that specific ramen flavor that brought back fond memories, convenience stores have something for everyone.
Convenience stores were especially popular with the younger demographic. The affordability of the products meant a high school student's allowance or a college student's frugality can both stretch their money significantly. Most stores took advantage of this, often doing promotional deals such as buy one, get one or multiples of a product for a discounted amount.
"That'll be 9,000 won please" the cashier says after scanning two red Marlboro boxes.
You were patiently waiting your turn, a cup of ramen and banana milk in your arms.
Once the person in front of you pays for their cigarettes after complaining why the tobacco tax was so high, you place the items down next to the cash register.
"That'll be 2,000 won please"
Fumbling around your pockets, you realize you were out of money. You were completely broke after paying this month's rent and your friends wanting to celebrate one of your oldest friends getting promoted in their corporate job. You had enough money to pay with cash but remembered you had an app that contained store credits.
As you hand the cashier your phone, you look up. She wore a blue, orange and green tri-colored vest that replicated the colors outside the store. Her nametag was neatly placed on the left side, the GS-25 logo clearly visible. Underneath the vest was a white crewneck sweater with Mickey Mouse imprinted across.
Her smile was very inviting, making you question how she was able to keep such a cheerful expression for long periods of time. Her makeup less face complimented her dark, chestnut hair that was playfully teased to give a slightly wavy look. You felt quite shabby seeing how beautiful she was even in such a simple outfit. You had thrown on a pair of joggers and wore the same Mickey Mouse shirt you wore to bed last night, the shirt creased from you tossing back and forth trying to fall asleep from the summer heat.
"Oh, you like Mickey too?" She says as she hands back your phone after scanning the QR code, getting your attention.
"Huh? Oh yeah, I have a lot of these kinda shirts at home"
"Really? So do I. Mickey's my favorite" she said, her warm smile washing away whatever embarrassed feelings you had previously.
"Kim Jiyoo" you said, reading the name tag on her vest.
"That's me" Jiyoo replies, her eyes shining brightly at the delight of her name being called. "My real name is actually Minji, but my family and friends have been calling me Jiyoo forever that I've gotten used to it"
"I see. Well thank you for the items, Miss Jiyoo Minji" you reply, smiling at her.
"Please, either Jiyoo or Minji is fine" she giggles. "I haven't seen your face before"
"Yeah, I just moved to the neighborhood yesterday" you explain. "Finally living on my own"
"Really? I'm so jealous. I still have to live at home with my parents and brother" Minji pouted, puffing her cheeks at you with a cute sad reaction.
"Hey, stay positive! I'm sure you'll be able to move out soon!"
"Really? You think so?"
"Ahem"
You and Minji turn around and see an extremely large line has formed behind you, almost reaching the entrance. This store was extremely popular, you're sure having a beautiful woman as the employee made it that way.
You apologize to the customers and bow.
"Thank you again, Minji" you say, quickly grabbing your things and beginning to leave.
"Wait, I didn't catch your name!" Minji yells, tilting her head to see where you were.
"I'll drop by again tomorrow!" You yell, briefly being seen again by the door before leaving. Minji wanted to talk more, but was pleased to know you would be returning the next day. She smiled brightly at the customers and quickly got them in and out of the store.
And drop by the next day you did. Everyday for the entire month in fact. Some nights were slower than others, which allowed you and Minji to really get to know each other. Most of the time you didn't really need to buy anything, but dropped by anyways because you looked forward to your daily conversations with her. Minji would complain to you about the rude customers she had to deal with or how her and a group of friends had aspirations to be famous one day.
"What are you guys calling yourselves again?" You asked, slurping up noodles Minji made for you both.
"Dreamcatcher! We want fans to dream of us" Minji replies with her mouth full of ramen.
"That's the stupidest name I've ever heard! I preferred the first one you gave. What was it called? Minx?" You laughed at her, probably not the smartest thing to do. Minji pouted and hit your shoulder before replying.
"Ugh gross! I guarantee you this is what'll happen if we were named Minx. We'll debut with a cute concept. Two years will go by with steady growth but still no traction. We disband and go our separate ways" Minji yells, pointing her chopsticks at you in anger.
"So, tell me about these friends of yours" you ask, taking a rather large chug of water.
"Hmm, what's there to say? I'm the oldest out of all 7 of us. We all have day jobs so it's hard to find time to meet. Here's a photo of some of them" Minji replies as she scrolls through her phone, handing you it as you see three women: one towering over the other two as they smile brightly, posing in business like clothing.
"The giant's name is Kim Yoohyun. We call her the silver puppy. Kim Bora's the busty one you see there. That bitch really needs to cover her tits. Anyways, the small bean on the right is Lee Gahyun, an intern. Yoo and Bora have been with the company for several years now. Gahyun was about to be fired due to slacking on the job, but she and Bora managed to entice their coworker into letting her stay"
"Enticed how? And wow, Yoohyun has an ass on her" you say, scrolling through Minji's phone and finding a photo of her friend posing for the camera.
"Give me that!" Minji says, yanking her phone from you.
"Let's just say the girls have an... interesting relationship with Bora's coworker"
"Noona!"
The two of you see a younger man approach your table. He looked like a carbon copy of Minji, just taller. And a guy.
"Taehyun, what are you doing here?"
"Mom asked me to ask you for some money. “Oh, hey hyung”
Minji takes some money out of her wallet, but retracts it when Taehyun reaches for it.
"What is this for?"
"She wants to buy pastries from the baker that just opened up"
"Are you sure? Ah, mom has her own money. Why does she keep asking me for some”
"Yes" Taehyun replies, snatching the money from her hand before running. Thanks noona!"
"Ah, that kid. I already know he's gonna spend it at the pc bang. Sorry about my dumb brother. Like I was saying, Bora and her coworker are pretty much senior members at the company. All the responsibility for zero increase in pay. When it came to intern evaluations to see who was going to be cut, her coworker convinced Bora that Gahyun would be their intern after some… interesting evaluations”
"So they slept with him?"
"Yoo was the first one, being his personal secretary and all. She said he dropped a pen one day during a business call and when she went to pick it up under his desk, she saw what he was hiding under his slacks so she sucked him off. Bora’s encounter with him happened when they worked late one night and got caught in a storm, so they ended up getting a hotel room for the night. Even though he's had turns with Gahyun and Bora, I really think him and puppy will end up together. She already spends half of the week at his place anyways and goes on and on about how great in bed he is"
"Well, I now know about your friends that I've never met before's sex life quite clearly. Anyway, even though it’s bad, I like that option about you guys disbanding and going your separate ways. It means you and I will get to date" you tease.
"Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure I'll date you?"
"Oh come on, Minji. It's so obvious you're into me. You look like an adorable puppy waiting for me at the exact same time everyday"
"Psh. As if! I look forward to when my shift ends. You just help time pass faster" Minji puffs her cheeks and pouts. It was one of your favorite reactions from her. You pinch her cheek and she blushes in embarrassment from your briefly intimate interaction.
"Don't worry, I like you too"
Minji looks up at you, her eyes beaming with excitement.
"You do?"
"Of course I do. I don't come here everyday just because of the snacks. Although, I am looking at a snack right now" you wink at her.
You lean forward. Minji's eyes widen like a deer in headlights. Unsure of what was going to happen, she closes her eyes and puckers her lips in anticipation. Smirking, you decided to tease her.
"You really should brush your hair sometime. You look less cute than usual" you softly say, as your face is mere centimeters from hers.
She opens her eyes and sees how close you two are. Her surprised expression soon changes to embarrassment.
"Why did you pucker your lips? Think I was going to kiss you?"
Smack.
You catch Minji off guard by giving her a delicate kiss on the lips. She touches it right away, unsure of what just happened.
"Why don't I work here? You did say your family wants a part timer to help out. Plus, we'll get to see each other more. Dating in the workplace can be cute. Like the silver puppy and her boss. Wait, you’re eating again? Where does it all go?”
“Food isn’t the only thing I eat”
Your newfound confessions blossomed into a tender relationship. The honeymoon phase was always wholesome. You two wanted to be around each other, often staying up late on the phone or sending cute gifs. Minji was a lovable girlfriend, pouting whenever you teased her.
There were cameras everywhere, so you two had to be discreet when it came to kissing. Minji showed you where the blind spots were, both of you using it to your advantage to sneak in quick pecks or longer smooches. As your relationship went on, both of you became more daring.
Your hand might as well have been super glued to Minji's butt from the amount of times you would smack it during your shifts. She in turn would reciprocate, slapping your butt or squeezing your crotch when she knew no customers were around. The first form of physical intimacy occurred when Minji called you into the employee area one day to help her get a box from a high shelf.
"Thank you for the help, baby. I didn't realize how high the extra cups were placed" Minji turns around and smiles at you.
You don't reply, instead choosing to pull her into your embrace. She looks up at you, anticipating what your next move would be.
"You make me happy, Kim Minji" you tell her running your hand through her long brown locks before pecking her lips. Minji takes initiative and puts her hand behind your head, pulling you in for another kiss. She starts off slow, nibbling at your lower lip. This elicits surprise from you. You've given each other pecks or simple kisses, but never fully made out. You had both just started dating and you didn't want to do anything to make Minji feel like you were going to take advantage of her.
Minji continues to take charge, inserting her tongue into your mouth. Your eyes eventually close, giving into the temptation. You both were supposed to be working, but here you both were, sucking on each other's faces in the employee room. Minji finally releases her mouth from yours when she began to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen. You were no better, beads of perspiration forming on your forehead as your chest heaves from oxygen finally flowing into your body.
Minji smiles at you, a seemingly innocent one. But her cheerful expression soon shows a certain twinkle in her eyes. You knew that expression all too well. It was the same one she made whenever she talked about her group member's escapades. Minji already wanted you both to take the next step and be intimate, but you kept declining. The truth was, Minji was your first ever girlfriend. You didn't want to disappoint her. Although she has squeezed your crotch several times, you allowed it since she respected your wishes and never overstepped the boundaries you set. Also, you would end up going home and releasing that sexual frustration with your hand anyways. But this time, you knew what was gonna happen.
"I know we agreed to not having sex yet, but there are ... other ways to be pleasured" Minji said, her words dripping with pure seduction as she got down on her knees.
"And it all starts by doing this"
"B-baby, we're at work. We c-can't do this"
"I need you" Minji murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "I want you" she had already unzipped your vest and removed your shirt. She gives your crotch a firm squeeze before reaching for the button on your jeans. As she unzips your pants, Minji shows you her beautiful eye smile. It melts your heart, you wonder how someone so sweet can be committing such sin.
Minji peppers your stomach with kisses, each leaving a thin string of saliva. Your boxers did a poor job at hiding what was underneath. Normally, your erections would go away after quickly. But today, you seemed to be consistently hard. It definitely didn't help that Minji would grope you every chance she could. And so, with a new toy to be played with seemingly in front of her, she grabs onto the elastic edge before swiftly pulling it down. Your agonizingly hard cock hits Minji's nostrils. She giggles, licking her lips at what is now presented in front of her.
"I'll make this quick babe. But not too quick. Don't want you bursting right away" she says, wrapping her delicate hand around your shaft. She could feel you pulsing in her grip, one that was loose enough that it left you wanting more. She begins with careful, sliding strokes, each one sending spikes of unrestrained pleasure throughout your body, increasing her tempo slightly at the end of each stroke, all while never breaking eye contact with you. The lewdness of it all, your girlfriend asserting herself as the dominant one in your relationship. She mixes things up by swirling her hand around your tip a few times, forming her fingers into a loose representation of a claw and captures your head, raking it a few times. You moan, continuing to run your fingers through her hair, hoping she would take the hint. Even though she coerced you into this situation, there was no turning back now. It has to happen.
“You’re so hard already” she moans, lubricating her lips once more with anticipation.
She doesn’t even give you time to breathe as she slowly opens her mouth, sinking her head as she draws closer and closer to you. She releases her grip on you, choosing to caress both of your hips for support until her lips finally connect with your head. The warm and soft flesh connecting with yours instantly makes you feel lost in their tight hold. Minji gets to work right away, her lips forming an air tight seal around you as they glide back and forth. Each suck is punctuated by the smack of skin on skin as she begins to take you entirely in her mouth. Your fingers that were previously running through her hair now grip the back of her head, pressing it each time. Minji goes deeper, putting her full effort into pleasuring you, her head bobbing back and forth rapidly. Occasional muffled gags are released as your shaft reaches the back of her throat. The little signs she showed of having a gag complex are soon proven to be temporary as once she has warmed up enough, Minji begins to be able to keep you inside her mouth for longer stretches. As her pace quickens, she teases you by showing a few tricks such as licking up and down your shaft, starting from the base until she reaches the tip, and taking both of your balls in her mouth at once.
“You’re close”
These were the first words either of you have said since Mini began, communicating like cavemen through grunts and body language. This was the first intimate experience for you both but it feels like Minji knows your own body better than you do. You wonder if she’s had practice before or if her group members told her about the signs that a man is about to orgasm. Compared to when you first started, your knees were getting weak from the pleasure. Your muscles were painfully tight from not wanting to burst right away. Minji releases your sack from her mouth, a popping sound that sounds like a symphony for your ears as she teased you by sucking each ball individually several times. She returns to using her hand, stroking you fast and hard. Minji lines up your seemingly ready to burst shaft with her tongue, using it as a runway for your fast approaching release. She looks up at you, her eyes practically pleading, begging for you to ejaculate in her mouth.
“Please, babe?” She pleads. “Please give me your come?”
Those were your activation words. It sends you over the edge and your release comes hard, weakening your knees even more that you thought you were gonna collapse. You grip onto Minji’s head for support as she takes you inside her mouth one final time. The thick white fluid escapes from you, gushing out at a high burst of speed. You felt the initial few hit the back of her throat. Once the initial rush of dopamine subsides, you loosen your hold on her, letting her know your orgasm is finished. Minji laps up the remaining few squirts, stroking you a few times to make sure that you’re completely empty. With one final kiss on your tip, she flashes her signature eye smile at you before standing up.
“Thanks for the afternoon snack, babe. Hope I didn’t make you see black or white”
You were sweating profusely, none of your previous orgasms had been that intense. Minji giggles, kissing you one final time before staring at the mirror and fixing her appearance to at least be somewhat presentable.
“I love you honey. Now let’s finish this shift shall we? I take it you’re ready for us to finally have sex. Make sure you’re ready for me tonight. I’ll make sure you scream” Minji blows you one last kiss before opening the door and greeting a customer who was ready to purchase food.
You were still feeling the aftereffects from Minji’s blowjob throughout your shift. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed like she didn’t even do it from how she was acting normally around customers. You were distracted, getting jumpy from customers asking you to scan their items or yelling at you for handing them the wrong carton of cigarettes. Once Minji locks up the store, she puts her keys away before interlocking her fingers with yours. The walk home was peaceful, no dogs barking and very few cars passing by. Minji was in a very cheerful mood, singing songs about flowers and summer love.
The two of you enter your apartment and Minji heads over to your room. She’s stayed over several times, and by doing so unofficially lives with you as many of her belongings and intimates are sprawled throughout your home. As you place the dinner order, Minji comes out, wearing a simple outfit that consists of pajama shorts that end ever so slightly below her bottom and a white crop top with Slytherin embroidered on it. An appropriate shirt to be wearing considering what she did to you at the store earlier. She removed her contacts and is now wearing giant circle lens glasses. After dinner, the two of you are sitting on the couch watching a rerun of some movie you forgot the name of. Minji was sitting on your lap, your right arm embracing her legs.
“Babe, we’re supposed to be watching the movie. Why is your dick poking my ass?”
You respond by sliding your hand down Minji’s crotch, not surprised at the lack of undergarments. You take two fingers and thrust them inside her core.
“Do you know how horny you made me today? It was all I could think about at work” you snarl, increasing the pace of your thrusts inside her.
“A-ah!” Minji’s juices lubricated your fingers, making the squelching sounds loud as you continued to finger her. “Faster, keep going”
You pull out your fingers just as Minji was about to climax, ruining her orgasm.
“Babe! What the fuck, I was about to come!”
“I just can’t do it. Babe, the reason why I’ve been prolonging sex was not to torture you” you sighed deeply. “It was cause I was embarrassed for you to find out I’m still a virgin”
“Is that what all this is about? Babe. You’re my boyfriend, I love you. I don’t care if you’re a virgin. It would be more meaningful because it’s you. I’m proud of you, that takes a lot of courage to say. But if we’re being honest… I am too”
“What?” You were so surprised, Minji seemed like an expert.
“I’ve pretty much done everything except penetration. Most guys just wanted to get in my pants without us getting to know one another. I compromised by telling them I’d give them head whenever they wanted. But with you, I’m okay with giving my first time to. I mean it”
Minji gives you another powerful kiss, reaffirming her love for you. You inserted your tongue this time, wanting to thank her for this morning.
“Looks like you kept your promise about being ready to go right now after my present for you this afternoon” your girlfriend says, speaking in a more husky tone. Minji began grinding on your lap. Moving her butt up and down, causing you to reach inside her shirt and grab her breasts, hungrily massaging them. It thrilled you knowing she was not wearing a bra, her nipples hard enough that they could pierce steel.
Minji guides you to the bedroom, turning around so that you’re facing each other. She begins her assault and kisses you, the two of you begin running your hands through each other’s body. Your clothes are instantly removed, being deemed unnecessary as both of your bodies increase in temperature: you almost tear off Minji’s shorts revealing her smooth, milky legs. She returns the favor by ripping the buttons off your shirt, her hands running through your chest and stomach with wanton vigor. She pulls your pajama pants down to your ankles as the two of you return to the fierce dance your mouths were participating in.
"Ah, babe. There's a bag near the nightstand. I got a little present for you"
You part yourself from Minji just enough to reach the pink colored bag on your nightstand. You take a peek inside and are greeted with a can of whipped cream. Under different circumstances, you would've wondered why there wasn't any ice cream. You hand them to Minji, smiling.
"Just thought you wanted a small snack before the main course" she said, shaking the can of whipped cream. She playfully applies two swirls on her breasts. They weren't the biggest breasts, but you loved them no matter what. But especially when they contained a sweet treat on them.
You instantly capture one, Minji's back arching in pleasure as the artificially sweetened substance fills your taste buds. It soon melts away revealing the real treat: chocolate syrup covered nipples. You make sure to not leave the other breast, devouring both mounds leaving only the syrup behind. Minji's moans echo throughout the bedroom, her skin's temperature being raised from the feeling of the cold whipped cream melting from your touch. You take the time to appreciate her naked body, giving her breasts as many kisses as you could.
You take the canister of whipped cream and without instruction, apply a generous amount on her clit.
"I've never done this before but it only seems right to repay you" you say, your voice trembling.
Warm colorless liquid was already beginning to slowly leak out of Minji. It seems like she was already aroused from having stuff eaten off her body. You dive in, lapping up the liquid from her center before gradually moving up, reaching the bright white prize. Minji is unable to control herself, her body squirming as she grips the back of your head and pushes you deeper. You move your hands up until they find her breasts, gently massaging them before pinching her nipples softly. The feeling you were giving her of eating her out along with playing her nipples was earth shattering. Obviously you were inexperienced, but with advice from Minji to form letters of the alphabet with your mouth, her initial giggles were soon replaced with moans, wanting you to not stop. You wanted her to orgasm, before diving into the main course.
The ever so slight musk scent was intoxicating. Minji chose to keep herself cleanly waxed, not a trace of hair in sight. You wanted to build her up, tease her for her agonizing blowjob earlier. But you show restraint, not giving in to your desires.
"Oh, fuck. Keep eating my pussy babe. Please"
You oblige, continuing your oral assault on her womanhood. You place your hands on her hips, causing them to involuntarily buck into your face. Your tongue darts in and out of her right hole. She wraps her thighs around your neck, forcing you to go deeper. It doesn't take very long until the muscles of her walls tighten, signaling her climax. Just as Minji is about to reach euphoria, you pull away for the second time tonight. Minji is rightfully pissed, her second orgasm of the night is ruined just as it was about to arrive.
"Why the fuck did you stop?" She angrily demands.
You choose to hold your throbbing cock in your hand. Minji sees this, her anger subsiding as she knows her erotic moans to your actions brought you back to life. Minji almost lost consciousness from the pleasure, trying to maintain focus as you both about to lose your virginities.
"B-be gentle, okay?" She whimpers.
You nod, giving her a reassuring kiss. You hold her left leg up, giving you a much easier access to the treasure that awaited you.
You make sure to prepare her for it, rubbing your tip against her lips several times. It was now or never. You guide your cock into her. She grimaces in pain as you finally enter her, her walls are extremely tight as inch by inch sinks inside. You're about three fourths of the way in as you give Minji another kiss to calm her down and hopefully relieve some of the initial pain. She wraps both of her arms around her neck, nodding at you to continue. At last, you fully enter Minji. Her walls are painfully tight, you weren't sure how you were able to fit.
Once you give her adequate time to get used to your cock, you start fucking. The first thrust causes her to whimper. She whines during the second one, but by the third thrust Minji's feelings of pain are replaced with pleasure. She loses all sense of self control, becoming a gasping, moaning mess as your hard cock increases in tempo and moves in and out of her. Both your breaths are heavy, you lock eyes with one another. You were both lost in the heat of passion. Her pussy is welcoming, extremely soft and complying to your rapid movements.
Before long, Minji has become fully accustomed to your dick, clawing at your back. Whispering in your ear to fuck her like you mean it. She's begging you for more, finding small bursts of energy to kiss you with what little oxygen is flowing through her body. Your bodies are extremely hot and sweaty at this point. You gently knead her soft, delicate mounds once again.
You were constantly out of breath yourself, your exhales devolving into monotone grunts. Minji's pussy continues to constrict your cock as the bed frame creaks from the two of you’s actions. You take note of your girlfriend's face: doe looking eyes, cheeks that were cute enough to pinch, luscious pink lips and the cutest nose you wanted to boop.
"Babe, why don't we try a different position? Yoo's always telling me about how good it feels to be fucked from behind"
Minji turns around and shakes her cute bottom at you. You spank it, the sound echoing throughout your room. You give each cheek four firm slaps before positioning yourself inside her once again.
"Oh, fuck. You feel even bigger than before"
Minji unconsciously tightens her vaginal muscles and you are provided with an utterly wonderful feeling.
“Holy fuck” you grunt. “Do it again baby” you beg as you thrust into her again.
She listens to you, clenching her muscles even harder. Minji is rewarded with cries of pleasure.
Your hand returns to her bottom, palming each tenderly before giving a loud spank. Minji decides to take control and impales herself onto your shaft, your bodies grinding against each other.
“A-ah, oh my god” Minji groans as her eyes roll to the back of her head. It seems you have found Minji’s sensitive spot. Having located it, control returns to you as you penetrate her cave and continue hitting her weakness. Minji’s stomach began getting heavier, she knew what was fast approaching. You could tell what it was from her body language. Minji tries desperately to grip onto your thighs, but it was no avail. You abuse her sensitive area as hard as you can, feeling her freshly manicured nails scratch your thighs, her body trembling in pleasure as the orgasm finally hits.
“Babe!” Your name escapes her lips in a hybrid scream/whisper repeatedly. You continue thrusting into her, albeit at a much slower pace due to how sensitive she was.
“You came so much, baby” you say, leaning forward to kiss her back.
“B-babe, stop. I wanna ride you now” she says, turning her head slightly. From her tone, it wasn’t a demand; but rather a request. Who were you to deny your girlfriend the pleasure she is seeking.
“Oh my godddd” Minji mutters as she impales herself onto your shaft. She doesn’t bother giving herself time to adjust to your size. Her mind is clouded at this point, only wanting pleasure and nothing else. You close your eyes, throwing your head back as her warm, velvety walls close tightly around you. Minji notices how much her pussy has an effect on you: your eyebrows furrow, you grit your teeth slightly, your Adam’s apple moving forward slightly as you gulp saliva.
Minji places her hands squarely on your chest, using them as support as she rocks her body back and forth. She could feel every ridge and pulsing vein rubbing against her walls. Now she realizes what Yoohyun meant when she said there is nothing that can replicate the feeling of having an actual dick inside you.
“Am I a slut babe?” Minji asks you. You were taken aback hearing her say such a thing about herself. “Because if it means I get fucked like this when we have sex, I want to be a slut. A whore who only wants your cock!”
Minji’s scream leaves her mouth suddenly as your dick hits her sensitive spot once more. It’s as if your mushroom headed looking tip has made it to her cervix. She grimaces slightly from the pain, but it makes her go crazy. Her toes curl in pleasure, digging themselves into the small crevice between your thighs and the bedsheets. With every downwards thrust into her body, Minji’s bottom is still tender from the spankings you gave her earlier.
Your hands roam her body and find their way up top. Minji’s legs were starting to give out, she lowers her body which allows you to capture her perky left nipple into your mouth. Using your tongue, you flick it. To add even more pleasure, you occasionally throw in a few soft bites. You cup each breast in your hand, squeezing them. To make things even worse for her already sensitive nipples, you blow cold air over them. Minji’s skin reacts, goosebumps littering her pale breasts.
Minji orgasms again, her walls painfully constricting you as the sudden flood of her nectar drenches your shaft. She captures your lips, wanting you to be happy of the pleasure you were giving her. Her orgasm was strong, but not strong enough to push you out of her. As such, trails of her liquid begin to leak out and coat your balls.
Her breathing is erratic, the back to back orgasms she endured caused her chest to heave. You find her nipples once more, tasting them. “Mmm, babe” her body was still sensitive. She tried pulling you away from her embrace, but you don’t care. You continue on with your oral assault, alternating between each breast.
Minji is kissing you senseless, and you take the chance of her being momentarily distracted to push yourself inside her once again. “Oooh” she moaned in pleasure. Her back has returned to the bed. You grab her thighs, pushing each apart momentarily before wrapping them around your waist. Minji embraces you as you thrust, her bottom syncing with yours.
“Babe… please keep fucking me. Don’t stop. Please, please, please. Don’t… stop… ahhhh!” Minji moans while trying to catch her breath. She was desperate. Gone was the aggressive woman who teased you about you both not having done the deed yet. All Minji wanted now was to come, and to make you come as well.
The room sounds like a symphony of moans, wet flesh slapping against one another and the consummation of a relationship being taken to the next level. Minji wraps her arms around your neck, her breasts pressed up against your own chest. Despite being the one to initiate things, there was a slight tint of red on her face as she could hear the lewd sounds your lower bodies were making.
You continue to thrust inside Minji. You were tired, but you had held back from being intimate with a woman for far too long. You savored Minji’s body, her lovely moans following each of your thrusts. Her breasts jiggled up and down from your swift movement.
“I’m gonna come” she manages to squeak out. You were so focused on fucking her you temporarily lost the ability to speak, grunting in order to acknowledge her. “I can’t hold it… aaahhhh…” Minji trembles, her body squirms as she clenches her walls around your shaft. Her flesh filled cave spasm along with his continuous thrusts.
“Aaahhh… yes, harder! Harder!”
You wanted to ask Minji where she wanted you to release. As you were about to do so, she lets out a loud scream. Your orgasm was fastly approaching.
“I’m coming baby!”
Minji’s thighs that were locked onto your waist pull you down. With one final powerful thrust, you reach the deepest part of her pussy. You emit a loud groan as your cock throbs erratically in her tight, velvety walls painting the inside with burning hot semen. You lose track of time in that moment, releasing sperm into her awaiting womb. It flows quickly and continuously, spreading all throughout her insides.
“Ohhhh my god” Minji’s body squirms in pleasure. Your orgasm triggers another one from her as well. With a quick kiss on her lips and one final thrust, you pull out, watching your bodies detach. Minji’s pussy is bright red, the poor victim of your sexual hunger. You watch as the slimy, white liquid oozes out of her. You hum in satisfaction, wiping off the sweat from your brows and caressing her face. As both of you struggle to catch your breaths, you lean down and give her a long, loving kiss.
Minji motions you to bring your cock near her mouth. Using the little strength she has left, she places a hand on your thigh as she is now face to face with your shaft. Your tip was bright red, glistening from the mixture of your love. She giggles as she sees her freshly released pussy juices and your sperm lathering your cock. She licks her lips with excitement before diving in. She wraps her left hand around your shaft, kissing the slit on your tip affectionately before putting it in her mouth. She makes eye contact with you, happy to see you clenching your teeth, trying to restrain yourself from grabbing her head and facefucking her.
Using the tips Yoohyun gave her, Minji swirls her tongue around your tip. She slowly draws a circle with her tongue around the slit. You groan in satisfaction, Minji couldn’t be happier at knowing she was pleasuring her boyfriend. Her pussy is tingling, slowly leaking out onto the bed sheets. Taking you in her mouth once more, she slips your cock in between her lips. Before going further into her mouth, her lips grip onto your shaft like a magnet. Once inside, Minji flattens her tongue below your tip. She sways it back and forth, left and right to tease you. She finds out she loves being in control just as much as she loves you taking control. Minji takes you all the way down her throat one last time before releasing her mouth’s hold on you with a loud pop. Her delicate hand cups your balls and with just enough grip, squeezes them. They were still heavy, even after how much you released. Minji knew they contained wonderful treats for her. The night was still young, and she was going to make sure she was going to empty you out. She takes her index finger and gently rakes your sack, you groan at the act being done to your sensitive area.
“Oh babe, I didn’t tell you. My parents ordered a bed for the breakroom at the store. We’re gonna have to break it in, you know? But before that… we have to change the sheets. And maybe continue this in the shower?”
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shinkami drabble
word count : 1.6k
ship: shinsou hitoshi / kaminari denki
rated: t
summary: denki has a crush on shinsou who works across the street at the second-hand music shop.
(ive never written shinkami before & i’ve been having writers block so i wrote this based on true events for warm-up.)
Kaminari is pretty sure he might die.
“You’re being so dramatic,” Mina tells him. And yeah, he is, but that hardly changes the fact that he’s starving. Not to death but it’s significant. He forgot to eat breakfast and wasn’t even on the schedule to work today. He’s just a good employee, and friend, or whatever. Denki thinks Mina could at least be a little more--”But, someone did leave their Café Luna bag behind about an hour ago. See what’s in it.”
Denki loves her. “Café Luna? That place is expensive!” And delicious, so he’s heard. The restaurant opened a few weeks ago down the block and since then the line has been wrapped around the corner.
He hurries to the back of their shop and rummages through the mini-refrigerator that definitely should have been cleaned out at least three weeks ago. Past some questionable yogurt cups, he finds what he’s looking for.
Denki only spends a solid five seconds debating the morality of the situation--is it rude to eat someone’s untouched food? What if they come back for it? But it’s a short-lived consideration, especially once he sees what’s inside; a small clear container with what a fancy as fuck sandwich—“It’s been an hour, surely they would have come back by now��” he reasons. Most importantly, as well as the deciding factor, “Oh hell yes!” A huge, insanely thick double chocolate chip cookie. “Sorry not sorry, loser.” Who the hell could leave any of this behind?
The sandwich is obliterated within minutes. Then Denki, because he is a good friend and model employee, brings the cookie back out to the front and offers some to Mina.
“You’re sweet, Denks,” she says, patting his shoulder. Then she laughs, “But it looks like you might cry if I say yes and you're forced to actually share.”
Denki really, really loves her.
He’s half-way through the cookie, propped up on the counter and munching away while Mina does all the clean up tasks that he’s excused from today for coming in. This is their usual slow hour anyway, not a customer in sight. Easy money.
“So, I forgot to tell you that your walking wet-dream came by earlier.”
Denki almost chokes on his cookie. “What! When? What was he wearing?”
Mina smiles as she wipes the counters down. “I was swamped so I didn’t get a good look. He was in and out pretty quick.”
Denki leans back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment to revel in a quick day dream. One where he’s smooth and clever, manages to get his number, then maybe a date, a blow job, a boyfriend, a decent, regularly scheduled lay. He’d take that in any order, really.
Denki’s never actually talked to the guy but he does know his name is Shinsou thanks to a very tactful phone call by Mina. He works at the secondhand music store across the street and one morning while opening shop they made eye contact across the asphalt. Denki had been sweeping while the other was writing a music lesson schedule on a chalkboard menu. It was anticlimactic, lasting no more than three seconds, but Denki never stops thinking about it.
Shinsou is intimidating in the way that most pretty people are. He looks mean, disinterested. It pulls Denki in unquestionably, especially because he always smiles (full teeth) whenever he spots Shinsou through the window and rarely gets anything back except the highly coveted lifted eyebrow. Denki’s favorite thing about him is his eyes, dark and liquidy.
Denki also cares a lot about fashion and Shinsou’s clothes are the brand of cool that is obviously effortless, all black. His messy purple hair is usually pushed back with one of those cheap, zigzag plastic hair combs that were popular in the 90s.
Shinsou is aggressively hot, it’s almost offensive. Denki isn’t sure if he has a league but Shinsou is out of everyone’s.
“I can’t believe he actually came in. What did he order?”
Mina shrugs, “He just bought bottled water but he did spend a minute staring at your freaky art.”
“Oh my god,” Denki flushes pink with excitement and disbelief. He doesn’t exactly call himself an artist but he does fuck around a lot in his small studio and paint weird, neon colored, warped looking Pokémon-monster hybrids. Mina let’s him display them around her fruit shop because she’s a good friend.
A customer comes in and Denki continues to lounge on the counter, still daydreaming of purple hues and picking at the cookie while Mina makes a smoothie that has far too many vegetables.
“Hey Denks,” Mina says after the customer has left with their inevitable bowel movement in a cup. She sounds weird. He looks over and she’s smiling like the Cheshire Cat. He knows he’s fucked. “We’re best friends and I’m your boss, so you’re obligated to forgive me.”
Denki’s heart is squeezing tight and he stares wide eyed. “What did you do?”
Mina turns to look out through the front windows where Shinsou is currently looking left, then right, before doing a half-jog across the street. She hurriedly looks back at Denki, “I forgot to tell you the Café Luna bag was Shinsou’s and now it looks like he’s coming back for it and I’m going to go on my break now, bye.” She says the last part in one breath while the door opens and the little bell on top rings.
Shinsou walks in and all the air is pulled from Denki’s lungs.
Denki doesn’t have time to think, just react. He practically throws himself off the counter and—again, not thinking because who has time for that when someone that good-looking is walking your way—does the only thing he can think of to dispose of the evidence.
He shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth. It’s a big fucking cookie, even with only half of it left.
He never should have come into work today.
The chime of the door tinkers again when it closes and Denki knows he has about 3.5 seconds before Shinsou reaches the front counter. He chews vigorously, practically suffocating on cookie crumbs and chocolate chips, but it’s all just turned to paste in his mouth and there’s no hope.
Then, he starts to choke.
“Should I call emergency services or just let you die.” It hardly sounds like a question and if it is, Shinsou is asking himself.
Denki sputters, standing up from his half-crouch in an attempt to hold on to an ounce of his dignity. But it’s all lost when they make eye contact and Denki knows there’s nothing he can do, so he just holds up a finger to say hold on before spinning around and grabbing the small trash bin under the sink.
He spits the cookie mush into the bin, eyes watering while he coughs the dust out of his lungs, and prays that death comes swiftly in the next few seconds.
Denki hates Mina. So, so much.
Catching his breath, Denki leans forward over the sink and runs the water. He wonders if he should fill it up and drown himself but opts for rinsing his face instead. The eyes boring holes into his back are unrelenting and vicious. He turns around and regrets being born.
Shinsou is way too goddamn pretty. His eyes drink Denki in, full of judgement and unabashed intensity before blinking back into nonchalance. “He lives.”
Denki can’t help it, he laughs. It’s loud and a bit wet because he hasn’t wiped off his face. What a mess. “Unfortunately.”
Shinsou doesn’t allow for any awkward silences though, just moves the conversation forward with ease. Denki barely has time to feel embarrassed but he knows he’s blushing deeper with every millisecond that ticks by.
“I left my lunch here earlier, I think. A bag from Café Luna.”
Denki considers lying because surely that would be the easiest route. He attempts to wipe his face off with the inner elbow of his sweater, nervous. “Oh—uh, I don’t…”
Shinsou holds up a long, slender finger. Denki wonders what instruments he plays. Maybe he should sign up for one of his lessons, give himself a second-chance to make a good impression. Erase this one from existence.
He shakes his head, explaining, “You have chocolate smeared on your chin.” An obvious accusation. Denki is so fucked.
He sighs. “The cookie looked way too good, dude.” It feels good to confess, at least. “I’m sorry,” Denki apologizes, eyes downcast as he pulls at the hem of his sweater.
“Are you,” Shinsou replies and Denki wants to run out the door but then something happens. Shinsou laughs. It’s a quiet sound, breathy and warm and deep. Denki looks up and smiles brightly because wow, that sounds like music. “I don’t think you are.”
Denki catches something like a smile on the corner of Shinsou’s mouth and it gives him some of his confidence back. Just enough. “Yeaaaah,” he breathes, grinning sheepishly. “It was really tasty so maybe not that sorry.”
“Sorry you got caught.”
“Definitely.”
“A true criminal.” Shinsou nods, something like approval. Then he pulls out his phone to check the time. Denki is already disappointed this interaction is ever going to end, despite his embarrassment.
“I’ll have the sandwich back at least, I only have ten minutes left of my lunch break. I’m starving.”
No, yeah, Denki is going to fucking murder Mina. He’ll be an actual criminal.
Denki knows his silence is telling but there’s no cool way to talk himself out of this. Instead he puts on his best pouty smile and apologetic eyes. Shinsou looks so unimpressed until he doesn’t, just annoyed.
He clicks his tongue, sucking air through his teeth like a disappointed parent. “I’m off in three hours.”
Denki pulls a face. “Oh-kay.”
Shinsou looks like he wants to roll his eyes. Denki feels hot all over, degraded even though he hasn’t been called any names or chastised.
The silence makes Denki itchy so he breaks it with a fountain of apologies and offers to pay him back. “Do you have Venmo? Just charge me the cost! My username is 69Pika—”
“Please, stop.”
“Okay.”
Shinsou knocks his knuckles on the counter, looking him over once more before taking a few steps back. Another customer comes in and the bell tinkers twice, open, then close.
They watch each other for a moment.
“If you’re off in time, you’re buying dinner after my shift. I’ll meet you outside the shop.” Then Shinsou turns and leaves and Denki just smiles because what the fuck else was he supposed to do.
God, he loves Mina.
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A Long Day
For Kidgemas 2020. The prompt for December 29 is “Elf on the Shelf”.
Summary: Pidge returns home after another long day of working in retail. Luckily, Keith is there with a cup of hot chocolate and a warm hug.
❄ - ❄ - ❄ - ❄
Pidge groaned as she kicked off her shoes at the front door, letting them land however they pleased on a rug off to the side. All of her muscles ached after her extra long day and there was an uncomfortable pinching sensation in her shoulder, likely from spending over 8 hours lifting boxes on and off of shelves when she wasn't busy frantically running around to try and find items for customers.
“I'm home,” she weakly called out.
Keith stepped out into the main hall from the kitchen with a pair of festive blue-and-white mugs in his hands. “I made hot chocolate. It's Hunk's recipe.”
Pidge took another few seconds to hang up her keys and coat and then shuffled over to her husband and eagerly accepted the cup he held out to her. She took a sip and closed her eyes in bliss. “Mmm, so good.”
“If you like that, then you've love the fire I have going,” Keith said as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and guided her into the living room, where a fire was crackling merrily in the hearth.
“I love you,” Pidge breathed.
“Are you talking to me or the fire?”
Pidge giggled as she turned to him and rose up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. “I'm talking to you, dummy. This is perfect. Thank you.”
“Well, I heard you had a rough day and figured you deserved a little pampering. Want to sit and you can tell me about it?” Keith asked.
Pidge let him steer her over to the couch. “Are you sure you want to hear my complaining? We could just sit and watch a movie or something instead.”
“You listen to me bitch about Griffin all the time. Besides, a reliable source tells me that a little venting after a stressful day is a good thing.”
“Does your reliable source have a name that starts with 'S' and ends in 'iro'?”
“Maybe.”
Pidge couldn't fight the grin that made its way across her face, nor did she really try and stop it. She happily sat down on the couch and cuddled against Keith once he settled down next to her. She took a few minutes to relax and enjoy the rich hot chocolate before it got too cold and then gave in to the need to complain about the dumb stuff she had to deal with at work.
“People are fucking idiots,” she said.
“Agreed,” Keith said, tapping his mug against hers – an action that elicited a chuckle from Pidge.
“Like, when one person who works at the store says 'sorry, we don't have that in stock', you don't go two aisles down and ask someone else if there are any in stock!” Pidge barely restrained herself from wildly gesturing her frustration, well aware of the hot drink in her hands. “So sorry that we don't have any more of your stupid elves when there's only a week until Christmas! Or any more of whatever popular toy that's been half off all week! Also, if you really want an elf on the shelf, then you'd better get there when we open at 7 and not at noon on a Saturday! Also, we don't have any of the new gaming systems and we're absolutely not hiding them in the back and if I get accused of that one more time I'm going to lose it.”
Keith gently took the mug of hot chocolate from her hands. “I didn't think Elf on the Shelf was still popular.”
“Oh, it is,” Pidge growled. “I don't think I'll ever understand it.”
“Well, if you ask Allura it's a timeless tradition that helps inspire the 'wonder of the season' in children,” Keith remarked.
Pidge rolled her eyes. “Oh, honestly. It's not timeless when it only started fifteen years ago! I think it just adds to the stress people feel this time of year. Like, not only do you have to worry about work and finding the 'perfect' presents and managing the household like normal, you want to add setting up elaborate scenes with a toy elf to the long list of shit that needs done?” She pulled her legs up onto the couch and curled them beneath her as she pressed a little more firmly against Keith, who handed back her hot chocolate.
She took a long sip and sighed in pleasure at the warmth that flowed through her. “Maybe I'm being too harsh...”
“Nothing wrong with venting about something that bugs you,” Keith said.
“Yeah, I know. And it's not like I'd ever say any of that to Allura's face, since I know it's something she enjoys doing for the kids. It's just... sometimes it feels like people try and go too over-the-top with Christmas, you know? It's supposed to be this holiday that brings joy to people, but all I see are people that are so stressed out that they're rude to everyone around them. Oh, did you know I ruined a child's Christmas because someone else I work with put out a toy that we're not allowed to sell until next month? A single toy. That isn't released until next month. That said child probably knows nothing about!”
It was only because of Keith's hand over hers that she didn't spill her drink.
“Whoever thought it was a good idea to send new items – especially toys – that can't go out when Christmas is happening is an idiot and deserves to be punched. Preferably in the face.”
Pidge huffed and focused on finishing her drink before it got too cold. Her anger slowly drained away as she stared at the flickering flames and by the time a few minutes had passed, she no longer felt the need to rant about work.
“Feeling better?” Keith asked softly.
Pidge nodded and finally relaxed against him. “Yeah. Thanks, Keith.”
“Anytime.”
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Stand-In Journalist
“You want me to do what?”
Marinette’s vaguely aware that her voice may have been a tad too loud, especially considering the fact that Alya had been attempting to whisper to her just moments ago. She’s also vaguely aware that’s she’s attracted the attention of most students currently walking up the school steps, including that of her crush, Adrien Agreste. Surprisingly, she finds herself unbothered. And more than a little distracted.
“Alya, you’re joking, right? You have to be.”
“Girl, shush,” Alya hisses out, wrapping an arm over Marinette’s shoulders and taking glances around them. It seems a little on the paranoid side, but Marinette isn’t one to judge.
“Listen, my grandma has to go into surgery, so me and my family have to take off for a week. I really, really, wish I could do this myself, but I’ve got no other choice right now. I know you’re busy with all your commissions, and the bakery, and class president stuff, but Nino sucks at talking professionally, and Adrien’s, like, never allowed out of the mansion.”
“What makes you think I’d be a better choice in comparison to literally every other student in our class?”
Alya rolls her eyes at all.
“Marinette, I’ve heard your customer service voice.”
“Ah.”
Right. Helping out her parents at the bakery meant an awful lot of occasions where she’d had to deploy the infamous customer service voice. After all, they do own one of the most popular bakeries in all of Paris, which meant attracting quite a lot of tourists.
Unlike America, the Dupain-Cheng bakery doesn’t take bullshit. She makes sure to let rude customers know that just from the tone of her voice.
If she tells you to leave, you leave. She only needs to say it once.
“Besides,” Alya continues on. “If you do this for me, you can consider all of your IOUs paid off.”
“Do what?”
The two girls look away from each other in surprise, now noticing they had the attention of their resident model. Despite teasingly calling out Marinette as an eavesdropper, everyone’s rather aware of his nosy tendencies. (Not many can blame him, though. He’s not socially incompetent, but boundaries are still not his strong point. Really, considering his only friend for years was Chloé, well… It’s understandable, to a point.)
“And what makes you think that’s your business, Agreste?” Alya smirks, placing a hand on her hip and using the other occupied one to pull Marinette closer.
She’s been doing that around Adrien a lot, testing some theory about Adrien and his touchy-feely habits. Marinette decided she didn’t want any part of that and didn’t ask any further.
“Well,” Adrien playfully smirks back. “I overheard―”
“Eavesdropped,” Alya loudly whispers into Marinette’s ear, who giggles in response.
“Overheard,” Adrien corrects, though he’s clearly smiling. “You pressuring poor Marinette into doing something that she doesn’t seem to want to do. So I was just curious, is all.”
He pauses, glancing back and forth between the two girls.
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Lila, would it?”
Alya bursts out into a short laugh, not realising the fond look Marinette shoots Adrien’s way or how his shoulders are tensed, maybe even worried.
“No way! This is way more important than that! Marinette’s just filling in for me for one of my, uh… Ladyblog duties.”
Adrien relaxes, then smiles almost knowingly.
“Ah, I see. Nino said you’re going out of town in two days, right?”
“Yup! But you’re not getting any more than that. Now shoo, we got a lot to talk about.”
“Wait, hey,” Marinette protests. “I didn’t agree yet!”
“So you’re not going to take the opportunity to pay off all your IOUs in one sitting?”
The designer snaps her mouth shut and stares off into space for a moment, brows knit together and cheeks puffed up in what seems to be intense consideration.
“… Okay, deal.”
“Yes! Let’s go, then! Bye, Adrien!”
And with that, Alya drags Marinette away before the poor girl realises who she was standing in front of, and accidentally makes a fool of herself as a result.
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Alya had given Marinette most of the material she would need to do the job. Not only that, but she had coached Marinette through lines and responses, and how to use her customer service voice and morph it into a similar but distinctly different interviewer voice.
With all that, you would think that Marinette would be prepared for what she was about to do. But the truth of the matter is that no, she was not prepared. In fact, she was the opposite of prepared. While, yes, the chairs and cameras were all set up, and everything looked neat and tidy, and she was wearing her best professional clothing— a ruffled pink top and grey pencil skirt— Marinette was...
Well, she was freaking out. She had never practiced with the blinding light fixtures or with a camera pointed directly at her face. She never practiced her lines with anyone other than Alya. She only learned how to turn the cameras on today, right when Nino had finished up putting the cameras in place and was about to go home before curfew.
It was just the push of a simple button, so that shouldn’t be something to worry about, but the fact of the matter was that she hadn’t even considered she would be the one responsible for the cameras. Which left the question― What else was she responsible for, that she hadn’t even anticipated?
“Well, this is a surprise.”
Oh god, he’s already here.
Plastering on a forced smile, Marinette turns her attention to a silhouette crouching on a high window. The crescent moon is hovering just behind his head, and his eyes seem to glow in the darkness of the corner he was in. He’s clearly already putting on a show, and Marinette realises with some panic that she doesn’t have a camera lined up in that direction.
Was... Was she supposed to move it? No, no, what if she accidentally breaks it? No, she can’t move it. But what if Alya wants this footage?
“Hello, Chat Noir,” Marinette forces out, stopping herself from prematurely pressing the record button. She... She’s supposed to do something first before doing that, but she’s forgotten what.
The superhero jumps down from his perch and walks into the artificial lighting, smiling easily and swinging his lower body over the back of the velvety red armchair, sinking into the seat cushions.
“I was under the assumption that our favourite ladyblogger would be conducting the interview.”
“She had a family emergency, so I’ll be taking her place this time.”
His smile twitches down a bit, then completely fades away. His gaze grows more intense.
“... I see.”
An awkward silence stretches between them, and Marinette feels her face gradually heat up in embarrassment. Her mind is completely blank.
“Marinette, are you alright?”
It takes her more than a couple seconds to process that question, and when she does, her embarrassment increases tenfold.
“I’m fine, sorry about that. Just got lost in thought. Anyways, are you prepared for the interview?”
Apparently, her response displeases him, because he stands up and walks around the table between them, stopping just beside her. His eyes never leave her face.
“... Marinette, I think you’re either having an anxiety attack right now, or you’re dissociating.”
“Am I,” is her automatic response. He doesn’t say anything, only frowning as though he was given a rather unfortunate answer. He reaches for his baton and opens it up, kneeling down beside her legs. He takes several minutes to check something up, reads through it, then puts the baton away.
“Okay, definitely dissociating,” he mumbles to himself. He stands up again then goes over to the equipment, and Marinette doesn’t do anything to stop him from messing with it.
Abruptly, the lights shut off.
“Marinette, you okay? Do you hear me?”
His voice is soft in the darkness, which is comforting, but it’s still distressing that she can’t see. Yes, the lights were horrible, but now the only thing in her vision is the imprint of a bright, blueish hue, fixed in place no matter how many times she blinks or where she looks.
“Marinette?”
His voice is closer, now, but even softer, just shy of a whisper. She hums in response, then blinks a few more times. One of the light fixtures is moved out of the way, allowing for moonlight to splash over the table and chair in front of her. Her shoulders untense, just a little. There’s still spots in her vision, but she can see now, so it doesn’t matter.
“Do you want me to keep talking?”
Yes, yes, she would very much like that. Her body is beginning to feel a little shaky, but she manages to give the voice a sharp nod. The voice? Who was she talking to again? She couldn’t—
“You know, I lied when I said I was surprised,” the voice says, interrupting her spiralling thoughts. “I knew that Alya was gonna be out of town, I had overheard about it. I also know you’re her best friend, so I kind of expected to see you. I was really excited about it.”
A figure moves in front of her, briefly, before once again getting comfortable in the plush red seat. His lips move in time with the voice.
“I really enjoy talking with you. It’s really easy to trust you with things I wouldn’t tell others, because you’re very respectful and kind. I’m honestly amazed that you never told Alya about that whole balcony thing, the day Glaciator attacked. I didn’t even have to tell you not to say anything, you just naturally understand boundaries like that.”
Chat Noir smiles in a way that’s nothing like all the previous smiles she’s ever seen on his face.
Right. Chat Noir. She’s talking to Chat Noir, because she was supposed to be filling in for Alya, who is out of town, for an exclusive one-on-one interview with Chat Noir. And she...
And she already messed up.
“Oh, God,” she says with sudden realisation. She quickly raises both hands to squish them against the front of her face, covering up her burning cheeks. “Oh, God, I can’t believe that just happened.”
“Hey, it’s alright—”
“No, it’s not alright, because I promised Alya I would get this done, and that it would be perfect, but I totally messed up everything because I couldn’t keep my stupid feelings in check, again, and Alya had worked so hard and deserves—”
“Marinette, stop.”
She flinches back, and sees Chat Noir now seated down on the table, his knees just barely bumping into hers on either side. He leans forward and takes hold of both her hands, placing them on her lap.
“You need to stop thinking about what Alya will think or how she would do this. You’re not Alya. You may be the stand-in journalist, but that doesn’t mean to have to do everything by her rules.”
“But, no, this is Alya’s interview, she—”
“She’s not here right now. You are. Listen Marinette, you can’t do this by pretending to be some imitation of Alya. If you want an authentic, smooth-going interview, you’ll need to go about this your own way. Everything you learned from Alya is going to be your base template. A resource for you to borrow from. You with me so far?”
Marinette presses her lips together and nods. Chat smiles and cups her cheeks, using his thumbs to brush away tears she hadn’t even known she’d shed.
“Good. Now then, tell me how Marinette Dupain-Cheng would interview a superhero.”
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The light fixtures were back in place, now at a much lower level than they were previously. The table had been moved out of the way, allowing for the chairs to be close enough that either one of them could stick their leg out to kick the other, easily. The cameras were rearranged to film at different angles, now, and no camera view excluded either of the two out of the shot.
Most importantly, Marinette had ditched the file Alya had provided her. She already knew the questions by heart, anyways, in case she needed to use one of them.
“You ready to begin?”
It’s funny, really, that the interviewee was asking that, and not the interviewer.
“Yeah,” Marinette responds. “Let’s get this show started.”
And with that, the cameras start rolling. Marinette grins at camera A, placed to have a perfect side-view recording of both parties from a distance.
“Bonjour, Paris! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and while I’ve literally never done an interview in my life, Alya Césaire decided that I would be the purrfect replacement in her absence. So, really, you should blame her for this.”
Chat snorts loudly at that.
“Continuing on, today we’ll be asking our favourite feline superhero, Puss in Boots, a few questions. Say hello, kitty!”
“Oh, God,” Chat says in-between a short bout of laughter. “Bonjour, Paris. Just so you know, I did nothing to deserve this blatant mistreatment.”
“Hush,” Marinette says, giving him a light kick in the shin. “I punned for you. I get a pass.”
“What? No way, you can’t get passes for animal cruelty.”
“Oh, you’re an animal now? Way to start this interview off strong for your lady fans, Chat Noir. Please, do go on.”
The interview goes by smoothly. There’s never a lull in conversation, boundaries remain untouched, and the atmosphere remains playful, warm, personal, and overall enjoyable.
But, it isn’t the end.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Marinette?”
She sighs, picking up the file she had previously discarded, squinting due to the bright lights.
“I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy doing things my way, but I did promise Alya that I’d do it the way she planned it. So, we might as well film this version as well, right? She can decide for herself which one she likes better. Besides, I...”
She smiles.
“I feel a lot better now. I think I can do this.”
“Alright then,” Chat concedes. “Let’s take it from the top, then.”
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Alya has watched both videos at least ten times each, and she has to admit, the superior one is rather clear. As much as she doesn’t like it, Marinette was clearly more in her element in the first one filmed, which went on to further charge the chemistry between her and Chat.
And boy, was there chemistry.
That leads to the next problem. If she posts the first video, Paris would practically erupt, a new brand of shippers will jump into the scene, and Hawkmoth may very well place a target on her best friend’s back.
If she posts the second video, her followers would find the interviewer rather lackluster, and possibly make a lot of rude comments that she doesn’t want her best friend to be subjected to.
… Really, the answer to her dilemma would be pretty obvious. Marinette can handle a few internet jerks. It’s no big deal, and, most importantly, it won’t get her targeted by Hawkmoth.
But the thing is... Marinette and Chat Noir want her to post the first video. They wouldn’t have filmed it and given it to her if they hadn’t wanted it to go public.
The ladyblogger leans back into her desk chair and sighs, glancing towards the bedside digital clock while biting down on her thumb. 1:53. She really needs to make a decision, otherwise she’ll never be able to actually go to bed.
Her sleep deprived mind suddenly gets an idea. She latches on to it, posting both videos with different captions, then collapses into her bed with a sigh of relief. She’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow.
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Chat Noir is a little shit and he’s going to pay.
She feels fooled. Bamboozled. A few nights ago, he had been gentle and kind, had given her good advice, and encouraged her to do her best without sacrificing the way she is. That Chat Noir was an inspiration. A friend and an ally. Someone she trusts and could count on.
The Chat Noir of today made her realise that, yes, while he can be all those things, he’s still a little storm of trouble, mischief, and utter bullshit.
And she was not prepared for this.
It’s only been a day since the interviews have been posted, but almost immediately after they had gone public, Chat Noir decided to post a link to it on his social media and make comments.
Ones specifically made to rile up every shipper, analyst, and hero fan in Paris.
If she gets stopped one more time by some creepy adult fan who thinks it’s perfectly okay to grab a little teenager by the wrist, she’s going to kick their fucking ass.
She eyes the expensive fabric scissors with an expression that screams murder. She wonders if it could tear through a magical catsuit. Probably not. Besides, she’d have to pay for it if she gets blood on it, and she only brought enough money to get herself some fabric.
Ugh.
She feels her hands twitch as her phone dings with another update on Chat Noir’s twitter. Begrudgingly, she shoves her hand into her purse and fishes it out, wondering what he could possibly be saying now. Seriously, how has he not exhausted himself yet? Wasn’t he awake at, like, 2 in the morning?
Marinette is not a toy. Quit grabbing her and asking her questions on the street. She’s a person. I SEE you, lady in the blue cardigan at the fabric store. She's 13. Back. Off.
Quickly, she whips her head around to look over her shoulder, catching sight of a middle-aged woman in a navy blue cardigan. The woman is looking down at her phone, silently walking away in embarrassment.
Her phone dings thrice again.
Hey Paris, remember when I DIDN’T need to play bodyguard because you guys were respectful towards teenaged girls who were lucky enough to interact with superheroes? Let’s go back to that.
Seriously, I only noticed like 30 minutes ago when I saw some university guy corner her on the street. What the hell’s going on? @ladyblogger Was this a normal occurrence and me and Ladybug just didn’t know?
I admit I was joking around and maybe fueling some ship wars but I didn’t expect grown adults to take that as a sign to harass a young girl. Knock it off and wake up, real life isn’t the internet.
...
Well, Marinette decides. She supposes the cat will live to see another day.
Ding!
To the TV crew hanging out at the entrance of the fabric store: Filming and interrogating a 13 year old without parental consent is illegal. I WILL apprehend you. Leave.
A minute later, Marinette hears about a dozen curses from multiple people at the front of the store, and the rushed packing of equipment.
With a smirk, Marinette sends out a tweet of her own.
Wassup, Paris, thanks for landing me my very own furry stalker, @therealchatnoir. Much appreciated. Always wanted one of those.
Ding!
?!?!?!? FURRY?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?!
Marinette cackles and pockets her phone, ignoring the resulting dings.
DON’T PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY ON ME, HEY!!! HEYYYY!!!!
I’M NOT A FURRY TAKE YOUR PHONE OUT YOU COWARD
dcvgthgrfCFRVGTBHYGVRFCDEX F I G H T M E
I’LL SPAM YOU DON’T THINK I WON’T DO IT. HEY LADYBLOGGER GIVE ME HER NUMBER I JUST WANNA TALK
Marineeeeetttteeeeee don’t ignore me pleeaaaaseeee ;(((((
He’s a dork. He’s sweet and kind, but ultimately he’s a total dork.
And maybe a little her type.
...
She buys black fabric, that day.
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“Please? Pleaaase?”
“No, Alya.”
“Oh come on, just one with Ladybug!”
“I can’t, Alya. I’m busy that day. Ask Adrien to do it or something.”
“... You know what? I will. He’s free Wednesday morning, right?”
#Maximilian Speaks#Stand In Journalist#Stand-In Journalist#Marichat#Marinette Dupain Cheng#Alya Cesaire#Marinette Dupain-Cheng#Alya Césaire#Adrien Agreste#Chat Noir#Miraculous Ladybug#ML#Dissociation#long post#Maximilian's Writing
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cdrama rec/review: le coup de foudre
KDRAMA AND CDRAMA MASTER LIST OF REVIEWS
Series: le coup de foudre / love at first sight / i don’t like this world, i only like you Episodes: 35 w/ a special Genres: then & now, slice of life, high school to adult life, romance, reunion/getting back together, working with the ex Spoilers in the Rec: for set-up/light ones for character backgrounds If You Like, You’ll Like: the reply series, sad-looking dogs that are loved very much, because this is my first life (VERY similar male lead), sibling love, my sunshine but if people were nicer and had significantly better hair, multiple couples that are all a lot of fun
Rank: 10/10
PREMISE
flashback to 6-8 years ago (because the OP here can’t remember lol): it’s desk selection day in qiao yi’s classroom! a very dramatic moment for all high schoolers, qia yi has to select who she sits next to. because she’s at the bottom of the class ranking, she gets last pick, which essentially narrows down her choices to that creepy kid who writes love poetry to every female student in the class and yan mo, the scary genius student who has placed 1st in their class since...forever.
taking a gamble, qiao yi goes with yan mo. yan mo eventually agrees to tutoring qiao yi outside of class and they become friends. then...friends? if you know what i mean. it’s very sweet and cute. only problem is that yan mo is both a genius and from a Family of Means, and so is already planning on attending cambridge (yeah, fucking cambridge) after graduation. not wanting to separate, yan mo asks qiao yi to come with him and she agrees to study hard so she can get accepted to a university in the UK, too.
but then, well, bad shit happened.
qiao yi ended up staying in their home town, yan mo left for cambridge, and we got two v heartbroken teenagers on our hands.
4 years later, yan mo returns after studying in the uk, and by chance they end up bumping into each other. angry because qiao yi hurt him, yan mo puts up an ALOOF AND COLD AND I DONT CARE AT ALL front that she sadly buys. but after he leaves for the big city to pursue a business opportunity, qiao yi harnesses some amazing big dick energy to go after him, in a sort of inverse DONT LET HER GET ON THAT PLANE! move. very abba.
the plot bounces between their (and their friends’) high school years, their lives as reunited adults, and their future lives as married folks. i love it very, very much.
MAIN CHARACTERS
zhao qiao yi
as a high schooler, qiao yi was a quiet girl with low self-esteem, who consistently ranked at the bottom of her class and was always attempting to retreat into her school tracksuit like a turtle. despite this, qiao yi has some solid friends and is always kind if somewhat shy or uncomfortable in certain situations. as a adult, qiao yi works as a television producer and is clearly more confident.
she buys truly awful graphic t-shirts as thank you gifts that one feels obligated to wear. falls for scams easily. will help you fold 1000 paper stars for your boyfriend even if she hates your boyfriend because she’s ride or die like that. look at how cute she is no one is allowed to be mean to someone as cute as this.
yan mo / “frank”
if you liked se hee in because this is my first life, you’re in luck because here is a 10% angrier version. at first, yan mo seems cold, aloof, snobbish, pretentious, arrogant...
okay, but he’s ALSO got a lot of feelings and will help people out. well, at the start of the show, he’ll help two people out. but that expands to like 10. so, progress! in high school, he falls for qiao yi in the typical Cannot Spit It Out fashion, buying her sentimental cans of coke, PUTTING IN ONE EARBUD SO SHE CAN LISTEN TO THE BEATLES WITH HIM, feeling Weird about her tying his tie, and single-handedly ruining a for-profit afterschool tutoring business in about 30 seconds, because they weren’t teaching qiao yi anything, and he knew he could do it better. tbh he completely fucking destroys a lot of things and people in under a minute. #ruthless
he’s very protective of qiao yi and rather than explain it, here is a clip from the special episode where yan mo confronts another student who left a love confession meant for qiao yi in his desk by mistake (subtitles have to be selected under settings, but it’s subbed in english):
youtube
zhao guan chao
zhao qiao yi’s twin brother, who has always placed 2nd in their classes after yan mo. despite his high grades, he comes off as a laidback teen heartthrob and has a reputation for being a flake and a playboy. BUT he’s legit a chill dude and clearly popular for a reason--he gets along with (almost) everyone. he loves his sister and is extremely protective of her, especially since she’s so shy and has low self-esteem for Reasons That Will Be Explained in the Tragic Backstory. he’s such a good brother. the best brother. also looks out for qiao yi’s best friend, wu yi. understands the value of shoes.
hao wu yi
qiao yi’s best friend, and another classmate of The Crew. i say this with so, so much love, but she’s got a lot of chaotic dumbass energy. struggling along the bottom ranks with qiao yi during high school. she has the worst taste in men as a teenager, falling for the guy who literally bullied her in like. ep 2. thankfully she’s got qiao yi and guanchao.
the trio are close, and that doesn’t change as they grow up. wu yi ends up becoming a novelist who writes pop and steamy romance novels and has a significant teenage girl fanbase. it’s amazing.
fei da chuan
my boy. another classmate, he, qiao yi, and wu yi make up the official Dumbass Trio of their high school class and have adorable adventures + solidarity in it. he’s also yan mo’s uncle. somehow. because rich people families are wild. while he’s got a place to live, he more often than not crashes at yan mo’s, who Does Not Like It. but da chuan does not notice or care.
abrasive but 100% sincere about everything and toward everyone. people will think he’s an asshole or a gangster but then he’s secretly feeding abandoned kittens in the corner or something. as an adult, has the best business casual outfits. serves as a big brother figure to a lot of people, but qiao yi in particular. cannot, cannot fucking do math.
SUPPORTING
“alicia” / cheng youmei. an old family friend of yan mo’s who is very posh and rich and dignified. studied abroad with him at cambridge, and is cold toward qiao yi after arriving back in china. cosplays B)
teacher gao. everyone’s high school teacher who later owns a bar that seems to be there only for dispensing advice. seriously. there is no way this bar is economically sound as the only customers you ever see are gao’s students coming in one at a time for Wisdom and you never see them pay for anything. also the bar has no fucking roof and is directly above traintracks. i have hang-ups about this bar
lin shu. yan mo’s mother. very sweet and pretty and a ballernia turned program director. is almost never home but clearly loves her son. du chaun’s sister. somehow.
zhao suyin. qiao yi and guan chao’s mother. one of her kinks is roleplaying condor heroes characters? okay okay okay
tian weimin. qiao yi and guan chao’s stepfather who works as police officer. best dad award. he’s so sweet and corny and peak dad humor. he loves them kids & they love him back
grandpa. yan mo’s dog in high school. a very old basset hound with sad eyes:
dollar or d. i cant tell you anything about him, other than he used to be a stray and yan mo says he’s ugly, which, rude.
DRAWBACKS
plot...hm. there’s SOME plot, but this is about characters + romance + friendship + family. if you’re looking for scheming mothers-in-law or tragic car accidents or secret destinies this isn’t the one for you. similar in vibe to Reply 1988 (they even watch the show in the show :’D / make references to it)
OKAY SO every plot summary i’ve seen says that yan mo is in a relationship with someone else when he gets back to china. no he is not. i say this because it was a huge turn off for me/initially put me off watching the series. he is definitely a one-and-only type. there’s no cheating in this show. lmao, hell, neither of the mains are even interested in anyone else but each other
i liked du chuan and his love interest a lot, but they definitely didn’t get as much screen time as the others
while it’s clear qiao yi + yan mo are the mains, another couple gets a lot of screen time as well. this might be a skip if you don’t like multiple couples/secondary relationships in a show
i surprisingly enjoyed the high school storyline a lot more than the adult one? which is super weird for me, but idk i was sad when it was over because it was so cute.
some...weird technical decisions. every once in a while, the camera will have like a nostalgia filter and then it disappears and then the edges get a bit blurry and idk it feels very film school 101 to show that what’s on screen is a ~memory. the soundtrack/music is sometimes also too loud--to the point where it can drown out the actors (particularly janice wu in the high school arc, since qiao yi is soft-spoken)
REASONS TO WATCH
the lead actors (janice wu + zhang yujian) are legit two of my favorites and they have great/easy chemistry. all the actors are amazing. everyone’s loveable
SIBLING GOALS the zhao twins are amazing and they’re both each other’s biggest fans. gaunchao had some really heartwarming brother moments
i love love lmao. this spoke to a lot of my favorite dynamics: exes reunited/having to work together, childhood sweethearts reuniting as adults, “gangster” and princess, childhood friends turned lovers, bickering couples, cold man who actually has a lot of feelings, lots of people being overprotective, idk. everything was just great. 0 complaints on any of the ships.
i genuinely liked every character other than that one piece of shit poppa zhao. even alicia, who’s put into the stereotypical rich bitch role, was actually really fun and subverted a lot of expectations for this trope
it’s just. real cute y’all. probably my favorite cdrama and definitely in my top 10 (maybe 5?) dramas overall.
FINAL THOUGHTS
i love them ;;
#le coup de foudre#janice wu#zhang yujian#eden zhao#ma li#cdrama#gizka does kdrama#!my post#why yes i am procrastinating please have another in this trying time#this one's my favoriiiiiiiiiiiiiiite
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Mess We’ve Made
Chef AU
Mark Tuan X Reader
Genre: Fluff
A/N: I just finished watching Oh my ghost and got inspired to write this honestly it’s such an amazing k drama if you haven’t already seen it go watch it that is some GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE I NEED ME A KANG SUNWOO
“Aw chef, come on. Just admit it. I’ve gotten a lot better. The customer wanted to talk to you personally to tell you how amazing my pasta dish was. Why can’t you just acknowledge my growth-“ before you could finish your sentence, a loaf of bread was being shoved in to your mouth. You’ve been bothering Mark about the compliment you received earlier that morning for the entire day and he was ultimately regretting his decision of telling you. You took a bite of the bread before throwing it back at him and frowning. Just as you were about to continue your rant, he looked around to see if anyone else was in the kitchen before quickly placing a soft kiss against your lips.
“Your pasta was perfect my apprentice. There, happy?” Warmth rose to your cheeks and you felt a smile creep on to your lips. You nodded your head in agreement before stealing one more kiss. He brought his fingers up to your cheeks and gently squeezed them while admiring the rest of your features that he loved so much. “I don’t understand why you still need my approval. You already know how amazing you are. If you keep up the good work, I’ll need to start taking lessons from you here pretty soon.”
You rolled your eyes as you made your way back to your station. Around seven months ago, you graduated from culinary school and found yourself looking for a job. That’s how you stumbled upon Mark’s restaurant while job hunting. Mark’s sous chef Jackson was the one who interviewed you and hired you right off the bat, saying that you were exactly what they had been looking for. You decided to do your research on the restaurant before accepting the job and it was in those few days that you found yourself falling for the handsome and very talented chef. But as soon as you first started working there, things did not go the way you thought they would.
Like most chefs, Mark was a perfectionist. He tasted every single dish prepared by anyone other than himself before allowing it to get sent out. If he didn’t think it was good enough to present to the customers, he’d throw away the plate of food automatically. Even if you had graduated with your masters degree in culinary, that didn’t mean anything to Mark. You had to start from the bottom and work your way to the top. He had you start off as a dishwasher and although you were upset that you Mark was treating you as if you didn’t just go through years of culinary school, you kept your mouth shut and did what you were told. But after a while, you grew tired of everyone in the restaurant acting as if you had no idea what to do when it came to cooking. Therefore, you decided to break the rules.
One day, when nobody was paying attention, you prepared a meal and had it sent out. When the customer had asked Jackson to speak to the chef who made it, nobody in the kitchen had any clue what he was talking about and that’s when you hesitantly rose your hand. Instead of being upset with you for going against what you were told to do, he picked you up in a bear hug and spun you around. “I knew I did the right thing in hiring you. We need to get Mark to try one of your dishes so you can stop being the bus girl and start impressing our customers.” You were over the moon. Your food was finally being recognized and you couldn’t be more happier. That was until Mark found out what you had done. He was upset with the fact that you broke the rules and you had a hard time understanding as to why. Shouldn’t he have been proud that a customer spoke so highly of you? As you were packing up to go home after you were finished with work, you overheard Mark and Jackson talking in Mark’s office.
“Come on Mark. What’s wrong man? She’s definitely talented in the kitchen and I’m sure the poor thing is tired of being a dishwasher. At least bump her up to prep cook or something. What’s stopping you from promoting her? She does everything you ask her to and never bothers you. If you keep treating her like this, she’ll leave.”
You heard the older chef release out a sigh of frustration. “She went against the rules Jackson. My rules. And whose to say she won’t do it again? If she were to wait just a few more days then maybe-“ as you were listening to the two men argue, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. It was as if Mark didn’t have a genuine reason to keep treating you this way. He was making up excuses and you decided you were no longer going to put up with this kind of treatment. You didn’t go through all the blood, sweat and tears back in culinary school for nothing. Sure, you were fully aware that you weren’t going to become the head chef of a restaurant right after graduating, but you didn’t think one would act so rudely towards you. You had enough of Mark’s unpleasant behavior. That’s why you found yourself storming in to the office.
“I’m sorry, I don’t normally do things like this, but I know my worth and I refuse to continue working here knowing that I’m not getting the treatment I deserve. I’m a chef for God’s sake. Not a fucking dishwasher. It’s been two months and that’s all I’ve been doing and I’m sick of it. Did I do something to upset you chef? Is there something you don’t like about me? Because I’d be willing to change it just so I can do what I signed up to be here for. But if I’m going to continue to wash those stupid dishes, I’ll find somewhere else to work. Someplace where my talent and hard work will be appreciated.”
Before Mark could respond, you rushed out of the door. It felt good letting all of that off your chest, but now you were afraid of losing your job. Both Mark and Jackson were left stunned. Did you really just say that? They didn’t know someone as quiet and obedient as you was capable of such an outburst like that.
”See what you did? You asshole, now she’s mad. I wouldn’t be surprised if she quits and becomes a high renowned chef somewhere else all because of your negative feelings towards her. I don’t hire just anybody, you know that. I saw something in her. Sucks you couldn’t.” Jackson left the office, leaving Mark alone with his thoughts. When you got home that night, you plopped on to your couch and sighed. Did all of that really just happen? Did you really tell off your boss like that? It didn’t matter to you anymore. You would just find out your fate tomorrow morning when you’d go in to work. As you were falling asleep, you felt your phone vibrate. A part of you was exhausted and didn’t care about who it was that was trying to get in touch with you, but you found yourself looking anyway.
Chef: Be at the restaurant tomorrow at 6 A.M.
You scoffed at his dull message, especially because he had nothing to say as he watched you leave. But a part of you was also pretty excited to see why he wanted you to go in so early. The next morning, you woke up a few hours earlier than you normally did and started getting ready to head over to the restaurant.
When you walked in, you saw Mark standing in the kitchen and your breath hitched when you realized that he was wearing a tank top and sweats. Why did he have to be so attractive yet so cold towards you? Once Mark noticed you, he nodded in your direction and waited for you to put your things down. After you were done, you hesitantly walked towards him and waited for his command. For someone who had a bunch of confidence the night before, you don’t know why you were acting so shy and ready to be scolded for your sudden outburst.
“I’d like to apologize for my behavior as of lately. I’m really not a mean guy. I’m just very passionate about my restaurant and being a chef. I’m sorry for being such an asshole towards you. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I promise I’ll be better. Um..do you think we could start over?”
Wow. You weren’t expecting him to apologize. Mark didn’t seem like the type to do such a thing and you knew it probably took a lot for him to do so. You smiled politely at him and nodded in agreement.
“I’d like that.”
He motioned for you to stand next to him and let you know what the two of you were going to be doing. “This is our most popular item here. I’m going to teach you how to make it, then you’re going to recreate it. Okay?” He thoroughly showed you the process of making the beef dish and when he had you try it, you could see why it was so popular. He smirked while watching you try the food. Little did you know, the reason why Mark tried so hard to stay away from you and was so cold towards you was because he had developed feelings for you. When he became a chef, he vowed to put his entire focus on his career. This meant that there was no time for a relationship. But he wasn’t surrounded by anyone who would interfere with his work ethic in the first place, so it didn’t matter. That was until you came walking through his restaurant with your bright eyes, beautiful smile and bubbly personality.
In only the first few weeks of knowing you, he starting falling for your patience, kindness, obedience and how you were in love with anything and everything that had to deal with the culinary arts. You also reminded him of himself when he first got in to cooking. He was quite fond of how quick you were to do whatever he asked of you and how you were so willing to learn new things. He also thought you were the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, so the fact that you were everything Mark could want and more in a potential girlfriend made things difficult for him. No matter how much he liked you, he refused to let a girl get in the way of everything he’s worked so hard for. He was quickly broken out of his thoughts when he felt your dainty little fingers tap his shoulder.
“Chef, I’m done.” He looked at you in shock. Was he that deep in thought that his mind completely went blank and missed the entirety of your cooking demonstration? Mark took a look at your dish and he was pretty impressed. He was also upset that he doubted you so early on before getting to see what you were capable of. As he went to take a bite, you felt anxiety building up and minutes felt like hours waiting for his response. When you saw his blank expression, your heart sank until a grin rose upon his handsome face. You were in shock when you saw him pick up the plate and continued to eat it until it was all gone. If this is what success felt like, you wanted to feel this all the time.
“Was it okay?” He quietly chuckled at how shy you were acting and gave you a thumbs up.
“It was amazing. Honestly, I think it was better than mine. Jackson is going to have some competition here. Y/n, if you’d like, I want you to be my apprentice. Don’t get me wrong, this was really good. But there’s a lot I’d like to teach you..if you’re okay with that?” You quickly nodded your head as butterflies filled your tummy at the thought of working alongside Mark.
From that day on, you stuck to his side like glue. Almost every morning, he would teach you how to make dishes on the menu and sometimes you guys would experiment with other chef’s dishes. In the first few weeks of learning from Mark, you realized what a generous and very kind person he was and you found yourself falling for him even more than you already had. He began taking you with him when he ran errands and the thought of him choosing to bring you out of all your coworkers made your heart flutter. You noticed how he started getting closer and closer to you with each and every practice session and it only made things harder for you because you wanted more. But deep down, you knew the two of you could never be anything other than colleagues. However, one night, everything changed between the two of you.
Mark had asked you to stay after work so he could teach you a new dish he just came up with and you didn’t think anything of it. He had you cut the vegetables while he prepared everything else. To his dismay, you were going all too slow for his liking, so he found himself walking over to you in attempts to help you cut faster. When you felt him behind you, your breath hitched. Sure, there were gentle touches shared here and there during your sessions, but this was the closest the two of you have gotten before.
“Let me help you.” One of his hands grabbed your wrist while the other wrapped around your arm. He began cutting the vegetables quicker than you were and you felt pretty embarrassed about it. As you felt his warm breath against your neck, you felt shivers run down your spine and you could only wonder if being in this position had the same affect on Mark as it did on you. You couldn’t see, but Mark was grinning widely. He loved how it felt holding you and wished he could grow the balls to tell you how he felt. He wanted nothing more than to admit his feelings for you. To tell you that the mere thought of you brought happiness to his heart and your voice alone could make his entire day. He wanted you to know how much you meant to him and how he quickly fell for you in the few weeks of practicing together. But he was a coward and he was afraid that you didn’t feel the same.
When you noticed he stopped cutting the vegetables but continued to hold your hand, you were confused. You slowly tried to pull your hand away but he only tightened his grip.
“Mark-“ he turned you around to face him and took in a deep breath.
“Can I kiss you? Please? I really need to kiss you.” You bit your lip before nodding in agreement and soon you were being lifted and placed on to the counter as his lips connected with yours. His lips were soft and tasted like a mix of strawberry chapstick and salt from the meal you had just made. You decided that combination was your new favorite thing because it now reminded you of him. Your hands made their way in to his soft and fluffy hair as his went down to your hips, all but gently gripping on to them. He kissed you as if his life depended on it and the feeling sent fire to your bones. To your dismay, he suddenly pulled away and placed his forehead against yours.
“What are you doing to me?” As you were about to speak, he crashed his lips against yours, already missing the feeling of your lips on his. Soon, things were getting hot and heavy between the two of you and you could feel him against your thigh.
“Mmm..y/n-“ you nibbled on his ear to rile him up some more and to let him know that you wanted this just as much as he did. Before you could process what was going on, he picked you up from off the counter and threw you over his shoulder whilst playfully slapping your cute little butt. He brought you in to his office and slowly placed you on his desk.
“If I’m being honest, right after you stormed in here and confronted me for treating you like shit, I couldn’t stop thinking about having you like this. I wanted to fuck that dirty mouth of yours and show you how much of an effect you have on me. God y/n. I’ve liked you the moment you walked in to this restaurant. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. The reason why I was always so rude to you was because I didn’t want to fall for you. All my time is spent on being a chef and I didn’t want anyone getting in the way of that. But I’m willing to make an exception. For you. I want to be with you. I want to be yours, if you’ll have me.”
You pulled him on top of you and started leaving chaste kisses all along his face. “I’m all yours.”
That night, he proved to you just how much he liked you with his head between your thighs, kissing, nibbling and sucking on your soft skin all the while bringing you to heaven multiple times. Once the two of you were done with your very passionate and steamy night of love making, he told you he would drop you home to your apartment. As he helped you get dressed, you noticed he put his shirt on you instead of your own and the idea made you smile.
“You really are the most beautiful girl ever. That was amazing, you are amazing, and you look really good in my shirt. You’re actually going to be the death of me y/n. I don’t think I want to drop you home tonight.” You giggled while grazing your fingers along his cheeks.
“Then don’t.” The smile that rose on his face made your heart flutter. He grabbed your things from and brought you towards his car. As you both were driving to his place, he intertwined your fingers together and brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss against it.
“You and I are calling out sick tomorrow. I plan on having you again. And again. And again..Ow..That hurt..Okay! I’ll stop! But I want to stay in all day with you. I’ll make you breakfast in bed and we can watch some movies or something. I just want to be with you.” You smiled widely before placing a kiss on his nose.
“Hmmm, what will the boss say when he finds out I’m calling out sick just so we can have a lazy day?” He smirked at you and pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead.
“I heard he really likes you, so I’m sure he’ll let it slide. Now come on baby, there’s a bath with our names on it.”
From that day on, the two of you had become a couple but decided to keep it between yourselves. Mark didn’t want anyone interfering with your relationship, nor did he want the other employees to treat you unfairly if they found out you were dating the boss. He was the perfect boyfriend. Every time went on a trip, visiting different restaurants across the world, he would buy you things that reminded him of you. He was also very patient, loving and considerate when it came to you.
When there were days at work when he was frustrated, he would ask you to come in to his office and have you hold him because your presence alone seemed to make all his worries go away. He never failed to make you laugh and smile and he made you feel as if you were the only girl in the entire world. Being the amazing chef he was, he would constantly cook for you and he even baked a few things here and there. Your cooking lessons continued, but most of the time, you hardly ever got to cook. The two of you were always so busy making out to really focus on the food. One time, he burnt cupcakes he was planning to surprise you with because he was so distracted with kissing you, but you didn’t have a problem with that. You loved spending as much time with Mark as you possibly could and you didn’t care what you both did, as long as you were with him you were happy.
“Yeah. I know. But it means a lot when you compliment me. Your opinion is the only one that matters to me.” He pecked your nose while reaching down to play with your fingers.
“Stop. I don’t think you understand the effect you have on my heart. You’re so adorable it’s actually really annoying.” You playfully pouted at him but your mood was quick to change when an idea came to your mind. In your peripheral vision, you could see a cup of flour on the counter and you found yourself picking it up and throwing at him. His grin soon turned in to a scowl when he realized what you had just done.
“You did not just do that. Get back over here y/n. You’re gonna get it.” You ran around the kitchen, scrambling to find something else to throw at him before he could do the same to you. Your mind was so focused on trying to run away, you failed to notice your boyfriend going the opposite way in order to scare you from behind. You felt something wet fall against your cheek and shrieked when you found out he had just cracked an egg on your head. Mark’s laughter echoed throughout the kitchen and you took this time to open the bottle of maple syrup and threw it against his chest.
“Y/n what the fuck?” The two of you continued to play your game of who can get who dirtier and in the end, you had won. Mark put his hands up and surrendered, especially because he had realized what a mess the two of you made in the kitchen.
“Oh, Mark. I’m so sorry-“ he shook his head while picking you up and placing you on the counter. This was now a regular thing between the two of you and you couldn’t stop thinking about the first time it happened. No matter how long the two of you were dating for, you would never get used to the feeling of him touching you. His fingers were one of your favorite body parts of his. They were so long and skinny, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t obsessed with them. He knew exactly what to do in order to bring you to sheer ecstasy with his fingers alone.
“Look at the mess we’ve made. How about we go get cleaned up and then clean up this kitchen?” You nodded in agreement as he placed a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips and reached for your hand. “Hold on babe.” He bent down so he was eye level with your jaw and before you could ask him what he was doing, his tongue licked a long strip along your neck and the feeling sent warmth directly to your core. “You had whipped cream on your neck. I couldn’t help myself. You know how much I love whipped cream. Although, if I’m being honest, your cream is my favorite thing to eat..especially when it’s straight from the source..OW..what was that for?” As he brought you down from off the counter and pulled you towards his locker room, you stopped walking and gave him a knowing look.
“What are you doing? The ladies room is that way.” He rolled his eyes.
“Save water, shower together. I’m all about saving the earth babe. Now let’s go.” You pulled at his arm again and he released a sigh. “What now? It’s not like we haven’t showered together before. And I’ve seen you naked at least 50 times already. Why are you acting so shy? You weren’t shy last night when I took you up against the fridge..will you stop hitting me? Why aren’t you this aggressive in bed?”
You playfully punched his shoulder before finally allowing him to take you to his locker room. “What if someone sees?” Mark shook his head in disagreement.
“Nobody is here baby. I made sure of it. And if by chance someone still is, then good. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. Especially Jackson. He’s been extra flirty with you lately. He needs to stay away from my girl.” You beamed up at him and you were pretty sure your cheeks were pink from hearing his sweet words. Although Mark complimented you practically every single day, hearing him call you his girl made your heart melt in to a puddle. It was also really cute whenever he would get jealous because he would always try his best not to show it. But deep down, the both of you knew you only had eyes for each other.
“You know, you actually owe Jackson one. I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t see something in me.”
He brought his fingers up to your bottom lip and playfully pinched it. “Yeah yeah yeah. He’s great. I made him my sous chef for a reason. Now hurry up. I’m trying to be that something inside of you now let’s go.”
#got7 imagines#got7#got7 drabbles#got7 scenarios#got7 mark#mark tuan#man I want a chef mark wtf#got7 fluff
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