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moody-alcoholic · 8 months ago

Text

The Missing Piece

Chapter 1 -Coffee

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. 4.4k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: Mentions of sex, description of injuries.

masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

“Sergeant MacTavish?” You call into the hallway of soldiers lining the wall, you look up and down to see if anyone reacts to the name.

“Sergeant John MacTavish?” You call again this time a little louder.

“Here lass!” A man calls hobbling down the hall towards you. Your breath catches in your throat, even being on a base surrounded by plenty of hunky men you had not seen anyone quite like him. His broad shoulders, thick arms and tanned skin. His fluffy mohawk, shining almost bronze in the florescent lights. To top it all off his cheeky grin is sending butterfly's racing in your stomach.

He’s being followed by what seems like an even bigger man trying to help him wobble his way down the hall, his sharp eyes focused on making sure his friend doesn’t topple over. The rest of his face is covered by a balaclava with a skull printed on it. It makes you shiver as they walked towards you. You move to the side of the door letting them in. John finds his way to a chair while the other man stands behind him. You close the door to the room going back over to the desk sitting down and opening his file on the computer.

“Twisted your ankle during an exercise?” You look past the monitor at him.

“Aye, I’m fine but LT here insisted I get it checked out.” He replies with a smile on his face thumbing behind at the man looming over him. Christ even his accent is sexy, sottish.

“And I’m staying to make sure you do get it checked out properly instead of flirting your way to a bottle of paracetamol and a cold compress.” The man said, his voice was deep, commanding. You could feel heat rush to your cheeks at the mention of flirting, but you push the thought away trying to remain professional.

“It is good to get it checked even if it is just a sprain.” You move your chair round so you’re sitting in front of him.

“Do you mind if I take your boot off?”

“I got it lass,” he winked bending down to untie the laces, and pulling the boot off. You could tell by the scrunching of his face and the grunt he made that this was causing him pain. He put his foot back down on the floor his ankle did look swollen.

“Have you tried ice or a cold compress?” You ask.

“Aye,” he replies you hear the man behind him sigh.

“What he means by that is he tried for about 5 minuets before he was back on his feet again.” John huffed at being called out, you smile at him and he winks.

“You’ll need to try for longer then that,” you say acknowledging the tall man behind John who now has his arms crossed. You pick the foot up watching John try to hide the pain, you only lift it up a little before decided it was going to need an x-ray.

“I will book an x-ray for you in the mean time if you go into the ward they will give you an ice pack and a bed.” You explain moving your chair back to the desk so you could book the appointment. “Do you want any pain relief?”

“Na, I can barely feel it.” He says a cheeky smile on his face. You nod typing the report and waiting for the paper to print out.

“I can give you some crutches you really should keep your weight off it.” You stand up going to the printer.

“It’s okay love I’ve got my own crutch here.” He says hopping up on his foot and wrapping his arm round the other man with him. You smile handing the paper to him.

“Give this to the nurse on the ward.” You say rushing in front of them to open the door.

“Thanks love,” he says beaming at you as he gets lead out by his friend who looks back at you and nods. You close the door to the room taking a breath out. What the hell was that? You find a smile forming on your lips as your heart flutters in your chest.

————————

Two days later you find yourself as the night nurse. Not that you mind it’s normally the quieter part of the job and there is no one in the ward so you don’t even have to worry about trying to look busy. About an hour into your shift someone comes through the doors. You recognise him immediately as John, from a few days ago with the sprained ankle. He’s hobbling around on crutches now, his friend is not with him either.

“Hello sweetheart!” He says his voice full of energy, that ever present smile on his face.

“Hey, John did you need something?” you ask coming round from behind the nurses station.

“Yeah actually, I was told to come pick up something…” He trails off. “Now what was it?”

“Painkillers?” You ask.

“No it begin with a T I think.” He looks up to the corner of the room rubbing his chin.

“A tubigrip?” You ask raising an eyebrow.

“That’s the one lass!” He says snapping his fingers, you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

“Sit up on the bed I’ll get you one.” You say turning to the cupboard of supplies. You pick out two sizes then walk back over to John already leaning down to untie his boots.

“I can do that.” You insist waving his hands away, he sighs but gives in leaning back on the bed. You carefully remove the boot looking back and checking to see how he reacts. He’s ether getting better at hiding it or painkillers have helped. He only winces when you have to pull the boot over his heel.

“What did the doctor say?” You ask.

“Sprained, I’ve been stuck behind a desk for the last two days.” He makes a pouting face as you pull his sock off.

“You should sleep with it elevated that will help with the swelling.” You say pulling his trouser leg up. The swelling has definitely improved since you saw it last.

“I bet with a few more days of rest you’ll be back on your feet like nothing happened.” You smile at him.

“I hope so lass, my unit’s being shipped out at the end of the week.” He says as you pull the tubigrip over his foot and ankle.

“Oh yeah anywhere fun?” You ask.

“Ah ‘fraid I can’t tell you that love.” He winks, you can tell if he’s joking or not but you pull his trouser leg back down.

“You can keep your boot on but not too tight, and keep it elevated.” You explain putting his boot back on and loosely tying the laces.

“What painkillers are you taking?” You ask as he swivels his body round so his feet are hanging off the bed.

“Paracetamol, oh and the doc said I could take ibuprofen too, but I don’t need it I can barely feel a thing.” You look back at him chuckling, his arms flex as he pushes himself up with the crutches. You feel your cheeks heat up again.

“You should take the ibuprofen at least it will also help with the swelling.” You force out leaning over him to pick up his sock from the bed. He smells good, must be his aftershave. You hold the sock out for him and he sheepishly takes it out your hand shoving it in his pocket. You move back so he can hop out the ward back to the nurses station.

“Well it was nice seeing you again…” He trails off like he’s trying to remember your name his eyes squinting. You cover your badge teasing him. He chuckles.

“LT is the one with the better memory.” He says turning his body to the doors.

“Ashe.” You reply uncovering your badge.

“Well then Ashe it was nice to see you again.” His smile is infectious and you could have sworn he winked at you.

“Good luck on your deployment,” You call back as he pushes his way through the doors.

“I don’t need luck.” He winks at you. Okay that time it was definitely a wink and it made the butterflies come back to your belly. You sit down at the nurses station with a smile on your face and heat in your cheeks.

————————

One week later you get a text out of the blue.

Hey, this Ashe?

It’s an unknown number you’re tempted to ignore it, but something inside you forces you to answer it.

Yeah, who’s this?

It’s only seconds later a response comes.

It’s Johnny, with the fucked up ankle.

Holy shit, you almost choke on your drink, coughing as the liquid has now gone in your windpipe. You take a few more sips trying to sooth it. How the hell did he get your number?

How did you get my number?

From a friend of a friend..

You can’t help but chuckle, is this real? Did he make his deployment? You realise you haven’t seen him round the base in a few days, and you would know you’ve been looking. Sometimes without even realising it any time you see a broad tanned soldier hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you crane to look only to be disappointed. His friend with the skull mask you found out his name was lieutenant Riley. You know you definitely hadn’t seen him.

Anyway... Want to get coffee?

Such a simple request has your heart thumping in your chest.

When?

You reply without thinking, your leg starts to jump under the table nervousness washing over you. Coffee? With you? Why?

How about that coffee place just outside the base, tomorrow 1300?

Your heart is pounding now your throat dry. Is this a date? No that would be very much against base rules.

Sure :)

Was the smiley too much, you put your phone down embarrassed. You hear it buzz picking up the courage to look

See ya there :)

You let out a breath your leg stops jumping. Coffee with Johnny, surely it’s just a friendly thing to say thank you for helping with his ankle. Not that he has too, it’s your job. Maybe he’s just being nice, he is always smiling. Or maybe he didn’t make his deployment and he’s bored.

————————

You show up early, the butterfly's have not left your stomach since the moment you woke up. You managed to switch your shift with another nurse so you could be here instead. Coffee sounded like too much especially with your nerves you opted for a tea. You find yourself checking your watch almost every second, your back is to the door each time it opens your heart stops and you turn to look. Jesus calm down woman, it’s just coffee. You try to tell yourself. A few minutes later and a few sips of hot tea, you start to calm.

“Hey there lass.” You hear the familiar Scottish accent behind you. You turn in your chair to see him. You stand up to greet him, he pulls you into a hug, patting your back. He lets you go walking round the table and taking his jacket off.

His skin looks darker or maybe it’s just the light in the room, his hair looks like it’s been freshly groomed. You get a proper look at his eyes, a beautiful deep blue. You can’t help finding yourself smiling.

“Hey,” You reply.

“What’s your poison?” He asks pointing at your cup, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. It feels like the nervousness radiating off you.

“Eh tea.” You reply realising you’ve almost finished it.

“Typical brits,” he sighs playfully.

“Let me get it, you should rest your ankle.” You say quickly stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t worry love it’s been solid for a few days now.” You sigh that’s good at least. He walks over to the counter and you take out a deep breath, sitting back down. Your head following him as he orders beaming at the staff his accent cutting through the mumbling of the other patrons. You look back at your tea finishing it off as Johnny comes back with the drinks. He smiles as he sits down putting the tea in front of you.

“Thank you,” You say warming your hands on the new mug.

“Ne problem don’t you worry about it, I’m supposed to be treating you,” You feel yourself blushing again as that cheeky look comes back on his face.

“Why?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. He chuckles.

“You helped me with my ankle, I wanted to say thank you.” He says as a matter of fact.

“It’s my job,” you reply shrugging, feeling a rush of embarrassment washing over you. No one has ever thanked you like this before. The most the ward gets is a card sometimes. Or if you were lucky someone would tell your CO you did a good job. That was always important for people looking for promotions.

“You could have just caught me on the base.”

“Yeah,” Now his cheeks looked like they were changing to a gorgeous shade of pink.

“Did you manage to get deployed?” You ask trying to move the subject on. He smiles leaning back in his chair.

“Na, whole thing got cancelled, I spent a few days in London.” He says smiling.

“Was Riley-I mean-lieutenant Riley was he with you?” You blurt out sipping your tea so the word vomit would stop.

“Simon?” Johnny asked his smile getting bigger. “Oh yeah we spend a lot of time together.”

“Huh, that’s nice you must be a tight unit.” You say calming myself. So his name was Simon, Simon Riley.

“What about you what have you been up to?” He leans forward sipping his coffee.

“Work, nothing really.” You smile.

“When’s your next leave?” He asks.

“Two weeks.” He nods like hes thinking about something his lips pressed together. He leans forward on the table more.

“There was another reason I wanted to see you.” He says, his smile disappearing. You hold your breath in anticipation of what he’s going to say next. He takes a breath in for a second looking you in the eyes.

“I really wanted to see you again.” He says, okay that’s not bad. You almost want to laugh at how worked up you got yourself. He just wants to say thank you, he’s buying you coffee because he want’s to be nice. You helped him with his ankle. Now he’s asking if you’re single.

Wait what?

“Single?” You ask, your brain trying to comprehend what you missed. He nods his smile coming back, at least that puts you at ease.

“Yeah, I’m single. Are you single?” It seems like the appropriate time to ask him too. His lips are pressed together again like he’s trying to formulate a sentence in his head.

“It’s complected,” A cheeky smile forms on his lips as he sips his coffee.

“What do you mean it’s complicated? Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask frowning at him.

“No.” He replies flatly.

“A boyfriend?” He puts his coffee down.

“I wanted to see you cos I’ve spent the last week tryin’ te get ya out my head and it’s impossible.” He says leaning forward. You blush at his words.

“What do you mean it’s complicated though?” Your heart beating faster in your chest you can’t tell if it’s the caffeine from the tea or the words from Johnny’s mouth but it was getting harder to concentrate.

“I’m married to my work.” He says leaning back. You sigh, this has happened before. ‘I can’t be with you the job is too important’ It’s all too familiar, finding love when every one around you is throwing their lives on the front line is near impossible. You’d pretty much given up finding love at work, it’s not even the anti-fraternisation rules. People are just never looking for anything long term. Looking for men outside of work is no better. As soon as they find out you’re an army nurse, or army in general it’s usually met with a slew of sexist comments before you realise looking for love at whatever bar you’ve been dragged to was a bad idea.

“I get it,” You say trying to hide your disappointment.

“C’mon lass it don’t mean we can’t still be mates.” He says it sounds almost like a plea. You feel sad and drained, you didn’t know what to expect from the meeting but you weren't expecting to feel like you just got dumped by someone you didn’t even date. You look at johnny his blue eyes look sad, he grips the handle of his coffee mug. Maybe you’re being too emotional, you look down in your tea.

“It’s okay, you seem like a nice guy but I know how this goes. We’ll talk maybe have sex a few times but sooner or later you’ll move on, or be deployed or I’ll move on or be stationed somewhere else…” You look at Johnny finishing the rest of your tea. And moving to stand up. He reaches out to you trying to get you to stay.

“C’mon let me at least walk you back to the base.” You can’t help but see the pleading in his eyes his usual smile warms your heart. You go up and place a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s okay John, I need to go into town anyway.” You smile your hand patting his chest, you can feel the tight muscles under your hand only making it harder to turn away. But you pull your hand off his chest and head for the door.

————————

You spend the next two weeks having to almost actively avoid Johnny. Since whatever mission he was supposed to be on was cancelled he’d been helping round the base with all kinds of different things. You would bump in to him all the time, your eyes always betraying you and wandering to him whenever he was in your view.

He would always wink at you or smile at you. Good luck if he could physically trap you. He would talk your ears off about anything. The gym is where you would see him the most, usually with Simon or another man you didn’t recognise. He spent a lot of time with Simon, the ‘big scary skull guy’ some of the other nurses would call him. He seemed nice, he’s quiet, the most you hear from him are sighs or grunts.

“I heard his face was burnt off in a horrible accident.” One of them said one day as you were eating lunch in the mess. Your eyes had barely left Johnny’s face he was sat a few tables ahead of you. He seemed to like the fact you were always watching him. His eyes meeting yours and smiling, sometimes winking making you blush. Sometimes you would look up and it would Simon's eyes staring you down. His gaze would always send shivers up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand up.

The nurses round the table are giggling as they spread rumours about him. Nurses sure love to gossip, you try not to participate, there’s not much to do on the base though. Besides everyone ends up knowing everyone's business at some point.

“I heard he went psycho and took out a whole enemy base in Iraq. He covers his face so no one can ID him.” Another one said. Whatever it was about he definitely seemed to be the talk of the base.

“That’s bullshit, he’d be discharged.”

“Nope, he’s special forces SAS.” The nurse sitting closest to you whispered as she leaned into the table. It was enough to piss you off.

“We’re not in secondary school anymore! Don’t you have anything better to do?” You snap leaving the table. You knew you could feel Johnny’s eyes digging into you.

When you’re leaving the base Johnny tries to catch up to you. You don’t want to talk to him, you don’t know what to say to him. You’re leaving the last thing you need is a citation while you’re literally walking out the base.

“C’mon lass give me 2 minutes.” He calls. Maybe it’s your weakness to help people, maybe it’s because truly deep down you wish you could give him a chance. Something about the break in his voice makes you stop in your tracks.

“What? I don’t want to miss my bus.” You say turning to face him.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” He’s smiling, of course he is, he tentatively takes a step forward with his arms outstretched.

“For what?” You ask frowning and shaking your head.

“In the mess earlier.” His hand rubs the back of his neck as he blushes. “Saved me from having to stop Si- Riley from giving them a piece of his mind.”

You smile, dropping your head.

“Yeah well it was nothing. You don’t have to say thank you. You turn looking over at the bus stop. “I really have to go.”

“No, of course.” He says shaking his hands. “See you round then?”

“Probably not.” You shrug. If he really is SAS he won’t be around by the time you get your next post. He nods knowingly his smile fading. You smile back at him then turn to leave the base.

…

When you made it home you welcome the rest. Your small London apartment had been rented out for the few months you had been away, the place was going to need a good clean tomorrow. The thought of sleeping in a bed that had been home to a stranger for 5 months felt icky so you ended up curling up on the sofa turning the TV on for background noise. Your mind turning to Johnny. Wonder what he’s doing? Think he’s still at the base?

Your mind some how turned to Simon too, thinking back to all the rumours you’d heard. None of them even remotely sounding plausible. Who cares, he has his reasons for the mask, it’s none of my business. Your phone buzzed and you reached over to pick it up.

Made it home safe?

It was Johnny, he hadn’t texted you since the coffee date. Well date was the wrong word.

Yeah.

You hover over the send button wondering if this was a good idea or not. You take a deep breath in and hit send throwing the phone to the other side of the couch going back to watch whatever distraction was on the TV. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

...

You’re woken by a knock at the door, you look out the window the sun is peaking through the clouds, you check your watch its 10am. There is another knock. You pull yourself off the couch stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position.

“I’m coming.” You call yawning, looking through the peep hole.

What the fuck?

You open the door.

“John?” You ask shocked.

“Hey,” He says, his smile radiating off his face, his hair is a mess he looks like he’s barely slept. You look at him in stunned silence shaking your head.

“I wasn’t completely honest with you.” He says. “Can I come in? I’ll be quick I promise.”

“Not really the best opening line if you want to get into someones flat.” You say.

“Scouts honour.” He says holding up 3 fingers. You roll your eyes and step aside so he can come in.

“When I said it was complicated, it’s not cos I’m married to the job…” He trails off standing in your kitchen door so there is at least a foot distance between you two.

“I am married, to Simon.” Your mouth falls open at the revelation.

“Simon Riley?” you ask, almost shaking your head in disbelief.

“Yeah,” He shrugs.

“So you’re gay?”

“Yeah, well bi, both of us. That’s why it’s complicated.” You shake your head not quite understanding. He seems nervous all of a sudden.

“Well, we both still like women, and, you know-or I guess you don’t know-we experimented threesomes and what not.” He ran his hand through his hair. “There is something different about you, we’ve both been obsessed with you, can’t get you out our heads.”

“Both?” You ask, your mouth hanging open. Obsessed?

“Aye, Simon’s not good with words though, or at least not till he gets to know ya.” He chuckles running his hand through his hair again. You take a deep breath out.

“What do you want Johnny?” You ask. Is he asking for sex? A threesome?

“Have coffee with me and Simon.” He asks pressing his hands together.

“That’s it coffee?” You ask somewhat stunned.

“Yeah.” He says nodding.

“You came all the way to my flat to ask me to have coffee with you and Simon?” You fold your arms, you can’t tell if you feel disappointed it’s not sex or annoyed that he’s basically invaded your privacy for something so trivial. He shrugs.

You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. It’s the first day of your leave and you’ve basically been followed home. You sigh, it’s not like you have anything better to do while you’re on leave, and it is only coffee. You take a big breath in opening your eyes. Johnny’s smiling again, the smile that makes your heart skip a beat and the butterfly's wake up.

“Okay.” You nod, You don’t get chance to finish your thought cos he’s thrown his arms round you squeezing you.

“Thank you, thank you.” He says breaking from the hug. Your cheeks are definitely red now, after feeling his body pressed against yours. You can’t help smiling. He reaches over for the door handle.

“I’ll text you a time and a place,” you nod as he goes out the door.

“Hey Johnny how did you find my address?”

“A friend of a friend,” he smiles up at you from the stairs. You shake your head in disbelief. What the hell just happened? You go back into your flat locking the door behind you and going over to the balcony. You’re looking for a car but you don’t see anything.

You let out a long breath. What could he want? You push the thought away. It’s just coffee. Coffee with John and Simon who are SAS soldiers. Married and are probably wanting to proposition you for a threesome.

You go back inside looking over at your immaculately clean bathroom. You better get started, 5 months on base have done you no favours.

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fruittt-punchhh · 3 months ago

Text

useless

Synopsis: you were called in for the night shift unexpectedly, and now have to spend the next - 5 hours - with the on-shift manager, Sukuna. based on this ask.

Characters: Sukuna x reader. Other jjk characters mentioned, but not a major point in the plot.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, manager! Sukuna (sorry, no four-armed, two-cocked royal monster for this one unfortunately), suggestiveness, cursing, mentions of female masturbation, public sex if you squint (outdoors), pet/affectionate names, age gap kiinda, big dick! Sukuna (duh), cunnilingus (m! receiving), probably other stuff i forgot.

Word count: 11.6k (holy SHIT)

Notes: it's time for a new arc on this page bitches. Toji is my one and only forever as you all know but everyone deserves to read ab sucking off their fave fictional character at your imaginary place of work :) @scorpiosugar

“Behind!” you hear someone yell from, well, behind you for the tenth time that hour. It was well past the restaurant’s usual rush hours, but customers were steadily pouring in through the large glass doors you could see through the crowd up front.

You had clocked in a few hours ago, you remind yourself, peering at the ticking clock overhead, silently willing the hour hand to reach ten o’clock already. Only three hours left, you cheer to yourself, trying to remind yourself how good your paycheck would look after picking up the extra shift. Someone had called out earlier, leaving the on shift manager to ring you much too early on your off day, all but begging for your assistance. Regrettably you agreed, knowing the extra money couldn’t hurt. It’s not like you had plans anyway, unfortunately.

Your usual on shift manager was Shoko, and while she ran a tight ship, being in the kitchen was fun with her. She made sure things were done properly, but she didn’t mind if you slacked off as long as your responsibilities were handled first. She even let you take smoke breaks, knowing damn well you didn’t smoke. She recognized your work ethic and wanted to keep you around as long as she could, even if that meant letting you dip out the back door for a fifteen minute breather every now and then.

“Y/n?!” You hear a booming voice to your left, snapping you out of whatever daze you were in.

“You gonna’ run the food or not?” Sukuna asks.

The dreaded Sukuna. You’ve barely worked with him before as he switched to nights almost right after you started, and you were on day shift. While you’ve never had any bad interactions with him, everyone at the restaurant said he was such a pain to work for, and you weren’t willing to find out just how much of a pain he could be today.

You were usually in the back of the restaurant, quickly prepping and cooking whatever stupid order came out of the noisy ticket printer along with the rest of the kitchen staff. However, due to the short staffing on this fine Friday, you were held responsible for not only prepping the meals, but running them to a certain section of tables the other wait staff couldn’t cover. It was only a few tables, but you hated going into the main part of the restaurant. You chose the back for its seclusiveness, and the staff back here were much more enjoyable to be around. Plus, you weren’t a stranger to wiping your hands on your shirt or apron, dirtying up your all black attire soon into every shift. Walking out into the semi-fancy restaurant with a towel tucked into your hip, sauce stains on your apron, and sweat beading at your forehead was not your preferred method of presenting yourself to the…lovely customers.

“S-Sorry, yeah,” you say back quickly, grabbing your tray and hoisting it on top of your shoulder for added support. You bump open the swinging doors with your hip, rushing to your table. You can’t believe you missed the signature ‘ding!’ that accompanied a completed tray. You swore you heard that ding in your sleep, haunting your peaceful moments at rest more than a few times a week. Must have missed it this time, though.

—

Finally. You heave a sigh you had been holding in for the last hour. You had most of your tables cleared or taken care of, and you had a moment in the kitchen to yourself to catch your breath. The night was finally dying down, and you only had a little over an hour left. Maybe you wouldn’t die a slow and painful death in the back of the restaurant tonight, and maybe you’d be able to go home to your cozy bed in due time (almost as if you did every night).

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you turn to look for Sukuna, desperate for a break. It takes a minute, but you run into him (almost literally) as he’s taking a step out of his cramped office.

“Shit, sorry -“

“My bad-“

You both mutter, tripping over the words as you both look for an apology for nearly toppling over one another. You chuckle as he reaches his hand behind his neck, grabbing it and sighing as he lets his arm rest there. You take careful attention to note how his forearms looked like they might split the two buttons neatly fastened at his wrists.

“Can I go on my smoke break now? Just need a few,” you ask, hoping he wouldn’t bust your balls about it.

“Uh, sure, I’ll meet you out there,” he says before he turns back into his office, leaving the door only slightly ajar.

Meet you out there? What was this, a soccer match? You have no time to waste in responding and immediately turn on your heels, shuffling through the crowd of servers, cooks, and busboys galore to the back door.

Sure, he could just need a smoke too. He’s been here far longer than you today and the heavy bags that decorate his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you - or anyone for that matter.

You leave the door propped open behind you with a random piece of wood sitting outside, not wanting to have to bang on the door again for someone to let you in after it automatically locks - a mistake you only let yourself make once twice. The cool air hits you immediately as you search for your trusty milk crate you fashioned as a stool. You try not to get on your phone during your break, only using it to set a timer or check your texts if you had to. You liked to take this time to detach from the busy building behind you, taking in concentrated, steady breaths.

You set the too-short timer on your phone, raising up your hip to slide it back into your rear pocket. On busy days like these, especially days where you were supposed to be off, watching reruns of whatever peaked your fancy on the couch, you felt the need for a cigarette. You used to smoke in your college days at parties or if someone offered, never wanting to cross the line of buying a pack for yourself. You wouldn’t even know what to ask for anyways.

But on days like these, it almost felt necessary. You continue your breathing, leaning your neck down to stretch the sore muscles as you place your face in your hands. You rub your eyes, thanking god you didn’t accidentally pop one out as you received the biggest scare you had in a while.

“Jesus Christ!” You blurt, totally forgetting that your manager was planning on accompanying you for your break. You hadn’t even heard the heavy metal door creek and strain as it opened, there was no flash of light from inside the building, nothing. Weird.

“You meditatin’ or something?” He asks, seeming the most unconcerned you had ever seen him. He reaches behind him, pulling out a shiny, new pack of cigarettes, still tightly wrapped in cellophane. He rips the plastic packaging with his teeth, and it almost looks like he’s flashing a smile at you.

He raises his eyebrows at you with an attitude, non verbally demanding an answer as he hits the pack bottom down on his palm with a loud thwap! thwap!

“No,” you answer plainly, “just on my break.” He pulls a fresh cigarette from the pack before bringing it up to his lips. He pats his pockets, frantically searching for something to accompany his cigarette.

“Got a lighter?” He says, muffled by the thin stick.

“Nope,” you offer, not bothering to throw in an apology like you usually would.

He huffs, turning swiftly back into the restaurant after he mutters a low, ‘useless’ that he assumes you didn’t hear. He yells from inside of the restaurant, asking some shiu? for a lighter.

He’s quickly stepping back outside, cupping the lighter in both hands before he shields the end of his cigarette. He flicks the start wheel, and you try your damndest not to admire how good he looks softly illuminated by the flame. He pulls in a heavy drag as you watch the tip of his cigarette turn to hot ash.

He huffs, blowing out a large cloud into the wind, “Watchu’ starin’ for?”

You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Got nothin’ else to look at. Besides the dumpster, I guess,” you add, motioning to the container of literal hot garbage that was all too close to you two.

“Good to know I’m better to look at than piles of shit,” he says, not attempting to muffle the slight chuckle that escapes.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you say, reaching back into your pocket to check how much time you had left. 8 minutes.

He huffs again, but decides to keep his quip to himself for time’s sake.

“Why aren’t you smoking on your smoke break?” He asks, trying his hardest to appear like he doesn’t actually want to know.

“Dunno’. I don’t smoke that much,” you respond. But it just wasn’t good enough.

“I could snitch on you for that, ya’ know?” He threatens, waiting to see if you’d stand up for yourself or cower meekly like the rest of his subordinates when he applied even the slightest pressure.

You laugh, “Do it then. Shoko doesn’t care,” you tell him truthfully. She knew from the jump you didn’t smoke and still allowed it, stating that if anyone tried to bitch at you for it to blame it on her. Which you wholeheartedly did.

“Good for her,” he adds, not knowing whether to be offended or impressed by your brevity. “But right now, I’m your manager,” he says as he crouches down, wanting to look you eye to eye.

You ignore the flush you feel rise up your neck. You felt yourself fawning under his gaze, paying too much attention to the purse of his lips as he took yet another extended drag of his cigarette.

You had to keep your composure, even though he wasn’t the ugliest person you’d ever seen. You were used to standing up for yourself in the kitchen. Being a woman in a kitchen environment is not for the weak, and this fact you knew too well. You didn’t even feel like you were that attractive, but you couldn’t count on all fingers and toes how many hands you’ve had to swat back or advances you’ve had to decline from the creepy older men that worked beside you.

You didn’t want to spend the - you check - 6 minutes you had left on your break arguing with a manager you barely knew.

“Then gimme’ one or I’ll go back in,” you offer. You hated to ask, but a cigarette may help you chug through this last hour of your shift.

He smirks, pressing his hand on his knee to help himself stand. You’re hidden in his shadow now, only faintly lit by the dim street light nearby. He reaches in his pocket again, letting out a sigh as he meets your question with a proposition: “Close for me, then sure. You can even restart your fuckin’ timer for all I care.” He adds, becoming annoyed by how often you were checking your phone in front of him, as if you didn’t want to be outside with him or something.

He has to be kidding. It was Friday and the restaurant closed at 1, and with how busy it was, you’d be lucky to be out of there by 2:30.

“Close?!” You say with the upmost attitude you can muster. He was insane if he thought you were staying that long.

“Choose,” is all he says before he reaches one hand towards the doorknob, the other outstretched to you, a fresh cigarette in hand.

Fuck. You ran through the pros and cons in your mind. The money wouldn’t hurt, but you were so tired. Your feet were aching and your back was in knots. But again, the money. The sole reason you took this extra shift in the first place. The extra fifteen minutes plus a cigarette seemed enough to convince you in the needy state you were in. You were ready to accept your fate before Sukuna butts in with a… countdown?

“Three,” he spits, growing impatient.

You wanted to test that patience. Maybe it was the rumors you’d heard about big, bad Sukuna.

“Two.”

But maybe it was the way he looked towering over you, presenting you with options he had selfishly picked, not caring for a compromise. He was the manager after all.

“O-,”

“Gimme that,” you interrupt, reaching to grab the cigarette out of his cold hand. You hate that you noticed his hands, but the dim lighting outside provided you little room to work with in terms of hand eye coordination. Your fingertips brush his lightly, and you would have thought he was losing circulation if you didn’t know any better.

He leans back against the wall as he watches you restart your timer, purposefully ignoring the previous brush of your manicured hands against his.

You motion for him to hand you the lighter, to which he smirks, crossing his large arms across his chest.

“Nope,” he mimics your word from earlier, putting extra emphasis on the ‘p’ sound with a pop of his lips. He was doing anything to get under your skin.

“What do you mean nope?” You ask as you take the cigarette back out of your mouth.

“Say please and I’ll think about it,” he teases.

14 minutes.

You were too old for this shit.

You stand abruptly, turning back into the restaurant as you swing the door open with a huff. Sukuna squints behind you, the bright kitchen lights burning his sleep deprived eyes. You rush to his office, pilfering through drawer after drawer to find a lighter. You knew the desk well - it was shared by all the managers. You and Shoko had many conversations in this office after closing time, enjoying each others company as she complained about the weird customers you’d have throughout the night.

Bingo. A bright red lighter peeks out from underneath some old mail, a faint, small ‘s’ written on the side in black sharpie. How cute. Maybe his mom sewed his initials into his undies, too.

You’re already lighting the cigarette before the door closes behind you, pulling in a much needed puff as you sit down back on your crate, and you are far from the picture of grace. Hair messy, face sweaty, and you nearly tumble off the crate from the sheer force of sitting down with such an attitude.

Sukuna tries to avoid your gaze as you come back out, instead occupying himself with following the small beads of sweat that fall down your temple. The sweaty, curled hair by your ears. The sleepy, heavy eyes that cut him such a nasty look.

You pull in and sigh, thankful for the fifteen minute vice you’ve allowed yourself for the night.

“Hm - that’s mine,” he taunts, surprised you were so forward to go through his desk. He’d have to talk to you about that later.

You hold it up, showing him the little ‘s’ on the side with a sarcastic smile. You toss it to him without warning, laughing to yourself as he misses entirely, dropping it on the ground at his feet.

“Clumsy,” you mutter, and you swear his eyes widen slightly, followed by a barely noticeable pink hue across his nose.

No one ever spoke to him like this. His employees seemed so frightened by him, although he couldn’t say for sure why. He was stern, but he noticed most of his attempts at ‘bonding’ with his workers fell short. He felt himself fulfilling the role of the angry, harsh manager more often than he’d like to admit.

You grew uncomfortable with each moment - the silence was deafening as you tried to find something to say, but he beats you to it.

“Uh, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier,” he professes, actively avoiding your gaze. Although you were busy looking at the dumpster as opposed to him, he wouldn’t know. He kept his eyes trained on his feet. He hated apologizing.

“What?” You ask simply. You knew what moment he was referring too, but you needed to milk this rare vulnerability he was showing.

“Jesus.. earlier. I raised my voice. The fuckin’ bell’s messed up and I guess you didn’t hear it.”

So you weren’t going insane! It made you feel better knowing it was (or wasn’t?) a figment of your imagination. But you felt a little bad for the guy. His macho attitude was long gone as he tokes his cigarette, still avoiding eye contact.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you offer, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m not,” he spits, meeting your gaze with his once more. You hate that it gives you goosebumps.

“Sounds like it, to me,” you say, trying to hold your smile.

“Just explaining. Not apologizing. Two different things.” He says harshly. He really did not appreciate you trying to take advantage of his half-apology.

You fail at finding something to say, letting the silence linger for too long again. You were desperate for his break to be over, but he seemed to be intent on staying with you the entire time.

6 minutes.

“Why’d you switch to nights?” You begin, needing to cut the tension with something. You were curious if he was maybe in school or had some responsibilities that kept him busy during the day.

Again, that small blush. The barely there crimson hues spreads further than last time, covering his cheeks and if you weren’t mistaken, his ears. With his hair, he was turning to a pastel strawberry before your very eyes.

He clears his throat, “You looked like trouble,” he admits.

You’re hit with a flood of confusion. Most importantly, the reason he switched was because of you? Secondly, why did he have to use that phrase? It was more demeaning than he knew, and quite frankly -

“For me,” he finishes.

“What?” You huff, growing frustrated with his choice of words.

“You looked like trouble for me,” he corrects himself.

What the hell does that even mean?

He notices the utter confusion painted on your pretty face. He throws his cigarette on the ground beneath him, smushing it out before he grabs the lighter from his feet.

Turning back into the restaurant, he answers your unsaid question.

“I tend to go after women that look like you,” is all he says before he’s back in the restaurant, making sure to close the door tightly behind him.

Go after? What was he, a fucking tiger?

You can’t lie and act like the compliment (?) didn’t make your ego swell a bit. But switching his entire schedule because he was, what, scared of you? Worried he might “come after” you? You needed to know more, simply to have gossip for when you work with Shoko next.

Your timer still reads 4 minutes left, but your craving for the cigarette has long since subsided. You snuff it out, wringing your hands together before rubbing them on your jeans, desperate to get the sickly smell off of your fingertips.

From inside the restaurant, you can sense an influx of tickets printing. You hear feet start to bustle about, pots and pans clanging together, and that same loud voice barking orders at his employees. You only had three minutes left, but you couldn’t get the last 20 out of your mind. You’d find a point to bring it up to him later, you were sure of it.

You stand with a grunt, stretching your arms over your head before you turn to face the door - that Sukuna had so graciously shut behind him. You bang on the door with a closed fist, a loud boom! boom! boom! echoing through the nearly vacant lot behind you.

After your eighth or so hit, the handle turns, and you’re met with tufts of pink hair before anything else. You scoff.

“Missed me that much, huh?” He teases, and you’re taken aback. All of the previous conversation you had with him could be taken totally innocently, all except for that last minute or so. But you wouldn’t be wrong in thinking he was outright flirting with you.

You roll your eyes, shoving past him as he chuckles. You weren’t going to be stuck here with him until the wee hours of the morning, so it’s best you get started on your closing tasks asap. You didn’t close all too often, and you didn’t want to get overwhelmed with the responsibilities of shutting down the restaurant for the night.

You get back to your station, quickly catching up with what entree is currently being prepped. You try to keep your hands and mind busy, well aware of Sukuna’s looming presence in the kitchen. Before your actual smoke break, you tried your best to avoid him, not wanting to become subject to his bitching if you weren’t on your A-game. Now, you felt like being on this supposed A-game was impossible. You were exhausted, your body ached, and you were somehow convinced to close despite the very loud voice in your head protesting that decision.

Now, you had to deal with Sukuna’s gaze peering into the back of your skull. It made you nervous and you hated that, hated that you allowed him even an inkling of control over how you felt. But you couldn’t lie to yourself and pretend it didn’t affect you. You had to remind yourself that this was your manager, at least for tonight, and you were his employee. His stare was probably nothing more than a desperate attempt at calling you out on a mistake.

Right?

Is all you can ask yourself when you turn towards the trash can, potato peels in your cupped hands, when you catch him staring. He was leaned against a wall behind you, notepad in hand with the end of his pen affixed between his teeth. His eyes were glued to your ass before he scans your full body, taking in all of you before his eyes meet yours. Both of your eyes widen, shocked at how openly he was ogling your body. You feel the familiar blush rise up your neck again, and you couldn’t mistake a similar one appearing on Sukuna’s face. It was a brighter pink under the fluorescence of the kitchen lights. He threads his hand through his hair before he rushes to Nobara, quick to reprimand her for overcooking a steak. As if he wasn’t just drinking in the image of you.

You had to find time to talk to him, and soon. While you weren’t incredibely angry that he seemed to be interested in you, you didn’t want to assume he was incorrectly.

Another ticket prints as you’re placing the rest of your current ticket on the tray in front of you, ringing the stupid bell extra hard to ensure the wait staff hear it. You grab the ticket before you let out an exaggerated heave - it was a dessert order. Almost all of the desserts at the restaurant were pre-frozen or in the walk in, and there was never any actual cooking involved for the most part. You wipe your hands on your apron, turning for the walk in.

You yank on the comically large handle, the freezing air covering you in chills. The particular order had a side of ice cream, so you walk through the cool part of the walk in to the freezer door, yanking again on another stupid handle. The air in the freezer was nothing compared to the cooler, and you could already see your fingers turning red underneath the LED bulb above the door. The walk in was a mess, and the freezer even more so. You squat near the door, pilfering through the many items adorning the shelves. It didn’t help that the ice cream container was in a large cardboard box, similar to nearly every item in the freezer.

You stand, ready to step to the next shelf in your quest for ice cream, until you feel a nudge on your back, followed by a brief ‘scuse me’ from a now familiar voice. For the second time that night, he scares you so badly you think you could faint.

“Why are you so fuckin’ quiet?” You hiss, to which he shoots you a confused look from over his shoulder. He was pulling in a cart from the make line, full of containers and sauce bottles. He walked in back first, leaving nothing to your imagination as his tight black button up hugged his… very muscular back. It’s not like you knew him well at all, but you didn’t know him to be an avid gym-goer.

“Gonna’ help me or you wanna’ keep eye fucking me?” He grunts, failing to notice how all of your breath was caught in your chest.

Eye fucking? I mean yeah, you were admiring him. But you hadn’t even thought about anything sexual. Up until now. You felt delirious being up so late, and it had been a while since you got laid. And he still wasn’t the ugliest person on the planet.

He shifts to the other side of the cart, grabbing the necessary items and putting them on their applicable shelf. You notice how he’s able to grab nearly everything single-handed, whereas it took you both hands and a hoist of your knee to get some of the heavier items up on the high shelves. His hands were large with clean, neat nails trimmed short underneath a layer of shiny black polish. His sleeves were bundled at the midway of his forearms, revealing two black banded tattoos that wrapped around each of his wrists. You wondered if those were the only ones.

He lifts a heavier box over his head, shoving it in a back corner of the top shelf. You can’t miss the slight untuck of his shirt, the hardened ‘v’ that appears from underneath, and the tufts of blonde hair, starting at his belly button, trailing down to his -

“Eye fuckin’ it is then, huh?” He laughs as he turns to face you, leaning on the cart with one arm. His other arm is busy lazily tucking his shirt back in, his large hand repeatedly dipping underneath his waistband to smooth his shirt over his pelvis. You swear the shirt is tucked in enough, and has been for the last few seconds as he continues tucking and smoothing the fabric. He notices your eyes dart to his hand and he decides to leave it in his waistband, a feeble attempt to warm his cold hands and keep your attention trained to his waist. You stumble over your words, not even bothering to find an explanation.

“What is going on here? Like.. what are you trying to do?” You ask.

“What?” He scoffs, refusing to believe you’d call him out on his long glances and repeated attempts to be near you.

You cross your arms, shivering, as you wait for him to respond with an answer.

He pauses.

“Can we talk about it not in the freezer?” He asks, crossing both arms over his large chest as he’s shivering now too.

“Where then?” You ask, surprised that he even knew what the ‘it’ was you were referring to.

“Meet me in the cooler when you’ve finished your tickets,” he adds before he’s grabbing the cart and pushing the freezer door open into the cooler to leave.

So it wasn’t just your imagination. You had no clue where this conversation could lead, but you were eager to see. Now, finishing your tickets was the priority, which brings you back to the ice cream. Oh. Sukuna had replaced it when he came in and you were too busy gawking to notice. You grab the container, rushing out of the walk in to be met with a loud yelp from Nobara, exclaiming that she thought you’d died in there. Seems you weren’t the only one getting scared tonight.

You only had four more tickets, and one was a drink order for the bar, thankfully. You rush to finish, needing the customers gone as soon as possible so you could start fully cleaning the back. You definitely weren’t rushing so you could talk to Sukuna. Definitely.

In your hurry, you spill sauce onto your workstation close to the edge, some of it spilling onto your apron. Instinctually, you scoot your hips back from the table quickly in an attempt to avoid further dirtying your clothes, to no avail. In your motion, you accidentally thrust your hips into something - no, someone, behind you. While bumping into someone in the kitchen is no rare occasion, you could tell by the huff of breath let out behind you that the hips you just pushed your ass on belonged to Sukuna.

Was he hard?

You felt embarrassed even thinking of a question like that, but it was for good reason. The half-second you had your hips aligned with his allowed you to feel some sort of.. length pushed against you. There was no mistaking it. You look back to him over your shoulder as he’s stepping away from you, and he rolls his eyes at you. Not in a good, ‘oh god her ass is heavenly’ type of way. In a, ‘you can do better than that’ type of way.

One more hour.

You finish your tickets, taking extra precautions not to make any more messes. You go to look for Sukuna, but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s not in the kitchen, and his office door is propped open to an empty seat. You ask a coworker if they’ve seen him, and they only answer with a shrug. You glance to the back door, and it’s closed shut. You head to the walk in anyways, assuming he’ll meet you there in due time.

Until the door is pushed into you. A large hand grabs your wrist, pulling you in. You’re yanked into the cold and backed into the door before you can even let out a gasp. Sukuna stands opposite you, eyes too hooded and low for you to discern how he may be feeling (not that you care).

“Talk,” he says, waiting for you to lead.

“I’m the one that asked you the question. Remember?” You ask, adding a sarcastic smile for good measure.

“You asked me two questions. Remember?” He asks, pitching his voice an octave or two to mimic you.

At this point, you didn’t remember what the hell you asked specifically. You were so drained from the day you could have asked him ten questions and you’d be none the wiser. You nod your head 'no'.

“You wanted to know ‘what’s going on here’ and ‘what I’m trying to do’. Two different questions, woman.”

The nickname makes you squirm internally. You felt desperate - too desperate even. You knew he had a few years on you, although you didn't know how many. You were in your mid-twenties and he couldn't have been more than thirty-five. But still, the difference was there. Even if you two shared a birth year, he was still in a position of power over you. Regardless of how often you two worked together, he was a manager, and you were a line cook. Every voice in your mind is begging you to leave, but your feet are glued to the cold metal floor.

“Yeah, s-sorry. What is going on?”

He notices your nervousness and he wishes it didn’t make him feel so fucking flustered. Last time he checked, he wasn’t a horny teenager anymore.

“Well, we’re unfortunately at our place of employment, on the clock. I’m your manager. You’re my employee,” he says, taking the smallest step towards you, ”and that about covers it. Unless you think there’s something else going on.”

There’s no way he’s trying to pull the fucking stupid card.

“I know there’s something else going on, Sukuna. I saw you staring,” you spit. You caught him swallowing after you said his name, which would have been cuter if you weren’t currently freezing to death.

“Just because I stare doesn’t mean something’s going on,” he says with a smirk, shamelessly letting his eyes trail your body again, lingering when his eyes meet your chest to commit to memory how your nipples cut through your shirt in the cold of the walk in.

You huff, raising your voice to emphasize your point, “Then why are you walking around with a fuckin’ hardon?”

You barely notice the muffled ‘I wasn’t’ before Sukuna’s eyes widen as you feel a weight leave your back. You could barely process someone was trying to come in the walk in by the time Sukuna is crowding your space, one hand flying to the bulky handle to keep the door closed, the other reaching to cover your mouth. His body is slightly pressed to yours and his scent is invading your every thought. He smells masculine - musky and woodsy, like he had been out in the rain. His hands were harsh on your face, pushing down onto you with more force than you thought necessary. His thumb cupped under your chin, long, thick fingers nearly touching your ear as they stretch across your now beet-red cheeks. His chest and arms flexed in front of you as he kept the door shut, and you had to shut your eyes for fear of being caught staring.

The almost-intruder gives up, releasing the handle as the both of you let out a breath. The white, smoke-like air leaving his mouth in the cool air of the walk in clouded your vision as he removes his hand from your mouth, but not the door. He couldn’t risk having someone else barge in and it gave him an excuse to have you against the wall in front of him, albeit not in the way he would have preferred.

You two lock eyes, almost panting from the intensity of what just happened. You both look at each other’s lips, with Sukuna’s eyes flicking between your lips and eyes more often than yours.

You lick your lips, feeling like you were under a spotlight with how intensely he’s meeting your gaze. He was about to speak before you interrupt him, suddenly remember his admission from earlier.

“You weren’t hard?” You ask, and he laughs. The first real laugh you’ve got out of him the entire night.

“No, no I wasn’t, hah. Why do you care?”

You felt stupid but there was no way he wasn’t hard. He must be lying because you couldn’t have imagined what you felt. There was no mistaking the size, the length, the heat. It had to be.

“Then what was it?” You ask, patiently waiting for him to find an excuse.

Until he hits you with a, “my dick,” that knocks the wind from your gut. The shit-eating grin that plasters his face sends a warmth to your groin you haven’t felt in a while.

“W-What do you mean?” You ask, and he pouts, mocking your sheepish attitude.

“I don’t understand what you’re so confused about, girl. You’re the one that rubbed your ass on my dick. Doesn’t mean it was hard,” he shrugs.

You remember how big he felt even through the layers of clothing, and it scared you. That was him soft? You were starting to wonder what you’d gotten yourself into. But you had no clue how to respond to that. You couldn’t just compliment him on his soft dick. Weird.

“Well, you still didn’t answer both questions.”

He huffs out a chuckle, remembering the previously avoided ‘what are you trying to do?’

He looks at you, lost in thought. He scans your face before he’s reaching his hand towards yours shoved in your pocket. He extends his palm, motioning for you to place your hand in his. You oblige, pulling your hand out of your pocket before he’s grabbing your wrist, completing enveloping it in his large palm.

He leans closer to you, placing his left cheek on yours as he speaks into your ear.

“I think you know what I’m trying to do, y/n.”

He grips your wrist tighter, leading it to his groin to present you with his now undeniably hard dick. You stifle a gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation of his breath on your ear, cold cheek against your burning one, hard length now sitting heavy in your palm, twitching under your light touch. Now you know why you thought he was hard earlier. He was a shower and a grower, and the sinful thoughts that filled your mind did nothing to stop you from sliding your hand down further, to see just how much of a grower he really was. You knew you should protest this firmly, tell him he’s wrong for lusting after his subordinate, and clock out to seal the deal. But the stifled ‘mmph’ you hear to your left after you squeeze around his tip, precum leaking through his pants, has you questioning why you’d even think to leave. The wetness you thought you had under control was becoming a problem as it slowly soaked through your panties.

He pulls away from your ear, flicking your hand away with a tsk before he’s closing in on you once more, grabbing your chin so you can look up at him properly.

“Since when are you so greedy, huh? So eager? Didn’t tell you to start strokin’ it, now did I? Or are you that much of an overachiever like I’ve heard? I had to beg you to close f’me so I doubt it’s that.” He trails off, bombarding you with questions that warm your face again and you’re sure you have a fever at this point.

You huff out a hushed ‘fuck you’ to which he laughs.

He raised his fist up and starts pounding on the closed walk in door. His force is so brutal, he has to grab the handle to keep it closed as he hammers away at the door.

“That a promise?” is all he asks before he’s shoving the both of you out of the walk in, tripping over each other’s feet as you shoot him a confused look.

He ignores you, yelling out a loud “helloooo?” to the kitchen staff that just witnessed you two stumble out of the cooler.

Nobara rushes up, worry painted on her face as she grabs your wrists, stabilizing you as you catch your balance.

“Sir?” She mutters, looking just as confused as you were.

“We were locked in there for like, ten fucking minutes. No one noticed me beating the damn door down?” He yells. Your face grows redder as you look at Nobara struggle for a response.

“I-It’s fine, really. The handle just got stuck and he was too weak to get it open. He's kinda' useless,” which earns a laugh from more than just Nobara. Sukuna cuts you a look, flaring his nostrils as he’s walking off with a pout to his office. How pathetic.

You dust off your clothes, relieved to see there’s no more tickets printing off. Most of the remaining staff had started on their closing tasks while you and Sukuna were busy fraternizing in the walk in. Although Sukuna left with an attitude, you still couldn’t ignore the pool in your underwear and the ever-present pulse you felt throb with each tick of the clock.

The restaurant has mostly died down by now, with only a few lingering patrons at the bar and a couple or two still left in the dining area. Clean dishes were piling up on the right side of the sink and you were only left with the bare minimum cookware at your station. You see Sukuna walk into the lobby of the restaurant, not so subtly urging the remaining customers to leave. Most of the patrons pack up their things, only leaving a few stragglers behind.

By now, all of the wait staff had clocked out and left long ago. The clock read a depressing ‘2:23’ as you wipe down your workstation with a damp towel, sweeping the crumbs and leftover trash into the floor. Sukuna is busy finishing off the tills, counting the last of the register’s change. The dishwasher is finally packing his things, heading to the front computer to clock out with a tired ‘see ya’.

You were busy sweeping around your station, leading all the way to the walk in.

“Move,” he says, grabbing the back of your pants by the belt loop and pulling him behind you. You quickly look around to see if anyone noticed his touch, sighing with relief as you realize you two were the only ones still on the clock. He had a piece of paper in one hand, reaching up with the other to remove the thumbtacks from the old schedule on the bulletin board in front of you two. You glance at the schedule and your neck nearly cracks with how hard you do a double-take. You expected your usual 8-4, maybe some 9-5 shifts on the days you usually worked. But this new schedule has you scheduled for nights only. Conveniently, nights that Sukuna is the manager. You peer at the schedule, looking for the large, bold-printed ‘OFF’, and you see that you’re off in two days. You look at the top of the schedule, nothing that Sukuna’s ‘OFF’ day is the same day, too.

Sukuna had already started to walk off as you processed this new schedule. You take a step towards him, grabbing his forearm in an attempt to pull him back to you. His walk is so confident and assured that he pulls you almost an entire step forward before he turns on his heels, suddenly mere inches from your space. His proximity has you at a loss for words, mouth agape as you search your mind for whatever it was you were about to say.

“Yes?” He asks, a slight tug at the corner of his mouth daring to turn into a smile.

“U-uh.. sorry, why did you schedule me for n-nights?” You mutter, spiteful at how the words seemed to die in your throat.

He takes a step back, releasing his arm from your gasp as he straightens his tie, giving you room to finally breathe.

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that the employee that called out earlier has the flu.”

“But-“ you try to interject.

“She won’t be in the rest of the week, and how you’re looking at me right now tells me you’d like to be here with me again tomorrow,” is all he says before he’s returning to his office, crumbling up the old schedule as he’s closing the door behind him.

You clear your throat, trying to regather your dignity as you continue sweeping. You were frustrated with how much of an affect he has over you in the short amount of time, but your interactions throughout the day has left you craving more of his presence. His touch still lingers on your skin, reminding you just how often he had touched you during the shift.

You start to gather the trash in the dustpan, standing up to turn around to Sukuna leaving his office. Your breath hitches in your throat as he walks out in nothing but a black tank top, silver chain adorning his neck. You have full view of his numerous tattoos trailing down his arms, over his shoulders, even some that look like they might reach down his chest. He was walking to lock up the front as you finished sweeping and mopping. You grip the broom tighter, trying to ground yourself. Your body temperature was higher than usual and your hands were so sweaty. It felt all too hot in the restaurant, even hotter than it felt with the rest of the kitchen staff on the clock, ovens and fryers ablaze. You take a deep breath and lean the broom against the wall, heading for the back door. You needed some air and being in the same building as Sukuna made you feel like you had to fight for breath.

The cool air instantly calms your nerves as you walk to the side of the building, leaning down to put your hands on your knees. You take a deep breath, running your sweaty palms on your jeans. You had to get yourself together, you tell yourself over and over again. Regardless of how good he looked, how… intrigued he made you feel, you were stuck with him for the rest of the week. You couldn’t take a smoke break every time Sukuna cut his eyes at you or let his hands invade your personal space. While you couldn’t lie to yourself like you didn’t enjoy it, you’re still a grown woman that wouldn’t be caught dead melting under another man’s touch so easily. You preferred things the other way around, enjoying the power you felt when you -

SLAM!

A loud, resounding boom echoed through the parking lot as Sukuna crosses your peripheral, two full, black trash bags slung over his shoulder. He fails to notice you around the side of the building in the dim light before he reaches the dumpster, flinging both heavy bags into the can with ease.

He startles slightly as he sees you, fully expecting you to be inside the restaurant finishing your sweeping. You were too busy admiring him to process that the door had slammed. As in, shut. As in, no way to get back into the building unless Sukuna has the keys, shut. You both seem to realize your grim fate simultaneously, eyes widening as you scramble to find the answers you both needed. You take steps towards him as he’s rushing to you, frantically searching his pockets.

“Please tell me you have the keys-“

“Since when are you outside?”

“Do you not have the keys? How are we supposed-“

“You were supposed to be inside, y/n,” he interrupts yet again, turning out every pocket in search of the large loop of miscellaneous keys. His face is flushed as he peers down at you, obviously embarrassed he was so foolish to trust you’d be inside the restaurant and irresponsible enough to leave the back door without the keys in hand.

He sighs as do you, unsure of what step to take next. He starts pacing, hands running through his hair as he searches for a solution. You gasp quietly, searching your pockets and praising god your phone was still on you. You rescind that praise when you realize that was the only one of your belongings you had. No keys, wallet, purse, anything. In your panic, you rush to the back door, putting all of your body weight into twisting and pulling the handle. It’s locked without a shadow of a doubt, but Sukuna still shoves you to the side as he attempts to open the door. Although his strength seems incomprehensible, he still struggled to open the door. Every muscle in his arms, back, and chest were rippling and contorting as he fully leans back with force in an attempt to rip the door from its hinges. Nothing.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” You ask, dumbfounded at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

He huffs, leaning against the wall beside you as he puts his hand into his pocket, still silently hoping the keys would magically appear.

“What all did you have left in there?”

“Uh, just the sweeping and mopping. Did you finish the tills?” You ask, trying to assess the damage that the morning shift would be subject to.

“Yeah, yeah all my shit’s done, just had to do the fuckin’ trash. Shit.” He curses, rubbing his face in his hands.

You hadn’t realized just how close you two were now. There was still plenty of breathing room between the two of you, but as you both lean against the wall, his arm brushes yours and both of you linger at the contact, consciously continuing the skin on skin exposure.

Sukuna had plenty of plans that were so rudely interrupted by the stupid fucking door. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and how your hands felt on his length, how you looked up at him, hopeful that he would do something more to you. He had plans of ravishing you in the restaurant - partly to boost his ego, and partly to have you reminisce on the experience each time you walked into the building, with or without him. But all plans were effectively crushed as soon as that back door shut.

“Do you not make it a habit to keep the keys on you? Like, at all times?” You ask, confused as to why he would leave them sitting around anyway.

He turns to face you, rolling his eyes as he does so.

“No, I don’t keep the thirty-pound key ring on me at all times. You’re the one that came out here without letting me know!” He adds, throwing his hands in the air, trying to find anyone to blame except himself.

You scoff, surprised he was trying to turn this on you, “Well I needed some fucking air. You want me to tell you every time I go to the walk in or the bathroom, too?”

He laughs, offended, “You need to tell me when you leave the premises. The premises being the inside of the restaurant.”

You start to respond before he’s interrupting you per usual, closing in on your space as he places his right hand to the side of your head, leaning it on the wall to face you directly. You avert your gaze, embarrassed at how meek you felt when he looked at you in this way. But you knew he wanted you, at least in some way - that you knew for sure.

“Why did you need air? Closin’ too much for you, huh little baby? Can’t handle all that… responsibility?” He asks, making your knees almost buckle. Sure, girl was one thing, but baby?

But you still had to hold your ground.

“I am perfectly capable of closing, thank you. I needed a break from you,” you admit, not realizing how harsh it sounded until after you spoke it.

And he is appalled. With the way you were acting, you seemed like a break was the last thing you needed.

“A break? From me? What makes you think that, hm?” He asks as you still avoid his gaze, eyes glued to the way his chest moved in an even, up-down motion as he took steady breaths.

“W-Well, I -“

“Uh uh. Look at me when you speak, y/n,” he commands, taking just his pointer finger to draw your chin up to him, meeting your eyes with his.

“I-I dunno’, you just make me feel… weird? Not bad weird, just… different,” You admit, trying to say anything but ‘you make me wet’. Your response makes him chuckle.

He reaches his hand towards your forehead, prodding it with an exaggerated poke as he asks, “Do I make you feel weird here?”

You smile, furrowing your brows as you let out a simple ‘no’ with a shrug. He nods in understanding, motioning for you to follow him as he grabs your wrist. He pulls you around the side of the building, in an area much darker than previously. You look around as your back meets the wall, noting how the only visible cameras were pointing at the spot you two just occupied. Sukuna moves closer to you, leaving multiple points of contact between you two as you mentally count them all - how his knee is between your legs, how his hand that was on the wall before is now back, but much closer to your head, resting somewhat on your shoulder, how his other hand has now left your wrist, being replaced on your hipbone. His thumb presses in, harder than you think he realizes, and with how pent up you’ve been feeling it takes a great deal of strength not to ravish him on the spot.

He leaves his hand there for a brief moment before he takes the same thumb and slides it along your stomach, stopping when he reaches your navel. His thumb shifts only an inch downwards before he presses into the squish underneath your belly button multiple times, akin to a doctor feeling for abnormalities.

“If it’s not your head… is it here?” He asks with a particularly hard jab for emphasis.

“I make you feel weird in your tummy? Hm?” He finishes with a smirk, now soothing his pokes and prods with gentle circles traced with his thumb.

If you thought you were plenty wet earlier, you had no idea what this type of touch would do to you. He wasn’t even touching you anywhere important yet, leaving you stuck trying to suppress even a hint of a whine from escaping. Your clit was pulsing with your heartbeat which was at an all time high. It’s almost as if Sukuna realizes this as you do, chuckling as he moves his two fingers and thumb up to your neck, wrapping around it slightly as he searches for your pulse. Worry flashes across his face for but a moment before he’s laughing again, removing his hand before he reiterates his question with a simple ‘yes or no?’.

“A-A little, yeah,” you admit and your breath hitches at his response.

His voice was darker now, barely audible over the hum of the street light.

“Oh, I see,” he says as he dares to reach his hand lower, impossibly lower. You refuse to let your eyes trail, instead relying on the feeling of his single fingernail scraping through the outside of your clothes before he stops at your belt.

He catches you off guard, moving a mere inch away from your face as he cups your jaw, pulling you into a hot, open-mouthed kiss. You barely have time to react, kissing him with your eyes widened in shock. He pulls away too quickly, only allowing you to taste him for a short second before he continues his diagnostics.

‘S’not your head, not really your tummy,” dragging out the vowels in ‘really’ to make you wait another second longer.

His hand cups you through your pants, immediately rubbing small circles beneath your mound, stimulating your clit so roughly with the seam of your jeans you have to grab onto his arm for leverage.

“Must be your cunt causin’ all these problems,” he finishes as he meets your lips with his again, all tongue and teeth - which was a necessity for the both of you at this point. The tension that built slowly throughout the night had left you both eager for one another, and it was obvious with how frantic you were for him, whining as you throw your other arm over his shoulder to bring him even closer than he already was. You feel his now half-hard length push into your upper thigh before you reach your hand down to play with the hem of his pants. His abdomen clenches under your touch, rigid muscles flexing enough to be noticed through his tight shirt.

His hand that had found place in your hair tugs lightly as he pulls away from your lips, instead kissing along your cheek towards your ear.

“I thought this was all about her,” he whispers, pushing his two middle fingers harshly into your clit for emphasis, rubbing down firmly on your bundle of nerves as you threaten to fall apart.

“But now you wanna’ be greedy again? You already got to touch me once, y/n,” and you can hear the smile on his face as he says it, “If she’s the one makin’ you feel weird, maybe she’s the one that deserves my attention, yeah? Don’t you want me to make her feel better?” He says, swirling his tongue on the shell of your ear before biting your lobe, playfully pulling it until it snaps back into place. He knows your answer without hearing it, even before the furious nod of your head in agreeance.

He has you so pliant, so willing underneath him. You can’t resist bucking your hips into his hands when he fiddles with the buttons on your jeans, unzipping your pants ever so slowly before he has his mouth on your neck again, sucking and leaving marks that’d be sure to stay for days.

In the suspended unzipping, your mind wanders to the last time you’ve had sex with someone. It had been so many months, you weren’t sure if you remembered who it was. You cared less and less about how things looked down there, shaving every now and then when you got the urge. Which leads you to your current predicament.

“S-Sukuna, I.. I haven’t shaved. In like, a-a week or two,” you stutter quickly, trying to get the words out before he discovers on his own.

His fingers dip beneath your panties regardless, palm flattening against your lower stomach to reach down towards your heat. He lets out a grunt as he finally makes contact with your mound, stating a blunt, “good,” in response to your previous admission.

His long, deft fingers reach further to part your slit, his middle finger running through your folds to gather your slick as he works hard to keep his eyes from rolling into his skull.

“Knew I wouldn’t need any spit, ain’t that right?” He coos, not expecting anything but a gasp from you as his finger makes contact with your clit, finally.

And by god, how have you never been touched like this before?

His fingers rub you so skillfully, even better than you were able to. You were no stranger to masturbation, but the way his fingers felt on you now was unlike anything you’ve felt before. He circled your clit with planned, assured movements - if the smug look on his face wasn’t enough to show you just how confident he was in his ability to please you. His touch was perfect - no movement too under or overstimulating. He was so carefully bringing you closer to your peak with each intoxicating circle, steadily building his pace as he watched you fall victim to your pleasure with each passing moment. His lips are latched to your chest now, his other hand undoing just enough buttons so he can grab you properly without your pesky clothes in the way. He pulls your restrictive sports bra down with a harsh tug, freeing your tits for only a second before his mouth is latched to you, pulling and sucking at your nipples.

“Can’t believe - mmph, you’ve been.. hiding these from me,” he says, entranced at how the light hits your chest as it heaves up and down, your frantic breathing becoming more erratic and choppy, signaling your oncoming breaking point.

“K-Kuna, I’m -“ you try to warn him that you wouldn’t last much longer until your breath is ripped from your lungs.

“How cute,” he says, chastising the nickname you gave him. In one fluid motion, he takes his two middle fingers and slides them down and inside of you, replacing his thumb on your clit, quickly continuing the dizzying circles on your bud as he pumps into you - one thrust, then another, and you lose it entirely as he clamps down on your nipple with his teeth. You look down at him, making brief eye contact before involuntarily letting your eyes roll back, your lip pinched between your teeth as you succumb to the pleasure he so expertly gave you.

He looked surprised that you were finishing so quickly, eyes wide when you look down at him as you clamp so tightly around his digits. You continue clamping around him repeatedly as you ride out your orgasm, becoming louder by the second before he kisses you again, attempting to stifle your moans from echoing in the vacant lot. With one final swipe of your clit he pulls his hand free, immediately backing away to suck you off of his own fingers, grunting once he finally gets a taste of you properly. As if on instinct, his hand snakes his way underneath your panties again to caress your pussy, rubbing his hand in sloppy motions to coat himself in your juices thoroughly. He pulls away again, licking his fingers one by one with an eager grin.

“Ever had a taste?” He asks, wiping his filthy mouth clean.

To be fair, you had, but you wanted to see what he’d do if you said no. So you did.

He responds by taking your chin in his still wet hand, lolling his tongue out as he ravishes you in an open-mouthed kiss. You return the gesture, tasting yourself from his mouth and you were shocked at how intoxicating it was. How intoxicating he was. You so desperately want to return the favor, and then some.

He has the back of your head grasped in his palm but you resist, trying to get the words out as he all but devours you, groping your tits and reaching a hand behind you to grab your ass in a large, firm hold.

“Can I - mmph, can I.. be greedy… now?” You manage to get out before you reach down to palm his length, to which Sukuna lets out a focused, long breath through his nose. He pulls away from you with a smirk, hips leaning towards your touch.

“Dunno’ if I should - mmh.. let you, hah. I wasn’t tryna’ make you cum yet,” he admits, looking down with a ‘phew’ as you hook your fingers tantalizingly under his waistband, pulling him closer.

“That was you trying to make me not cum?” You ask with a laugh.

“Not yet. Wanted to make you wait for it, but you’re too much of a brat to be patient. You've been one ever since you showed up tonight,” he says and to prove his point further, you grab him by the arms and spin the two of you around, gingerly pushing him against the wall. He makes a face like he’s unimpressed before he reaches to the back of his tank top to pull it over his head. You gawk at his musculature and even more tattoos that are revealed to you as he throws the shirt at your feet.

He reaches down to undo his belt, the loud clang of the metal sending chills down your spine. You look down at the shirt then at him, shooting him a questioning look as he looks like he’s waiting for something.

“For your knees, stupid,” he says and as if on command, you drop to your knees onto his shirt, placing your palms in your lap in anticipation. You subconsciously lick your lips as he unzips his pants ever so slowly.

He stops his movements, grabbing the top of your head to tilt it upwards at him, “If you’re that desperate, you can get it out yourself,” he says with a pat of your head. He leans back onto the wall further, crossing his arms over his cold chest as he waits.

You smooth your hands over the top of his briefs and across his happy trail, dipping your fingers below the waistband before you ask, “How long has it been?”

The question takes him aback as his breath catches in his throat. He tries to still his hips from pushing into your feather-light touch but it’s inescapable. It had been a while for him, too.

“A minute,” is all he offers before you reach up to press a wet kiss to his lower abdomen as you pull his briefs down over his length. You pull for so much longer than you assumed you’d have to; after what seemed like so many inches his cock finally springs free, lazily jerking up as it hits the cool air. If it wasn’t for the heavy mass, his dick would stand at attention in front of you. You grab him in your palm, shocked at the sheer weight present in your hand. His angry tip was beading precum as you slowly worked your hand up and down his shaft, sticking your tongue out below him to catch it before it drips.

He starts to speak before you interrupt him, “I’m gonna’ try to make you not cum, okay?” He peers down hungrily at you, cock twitching at your filthy words. You take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue to gather the bittersweet precum before you start to suck. You feel as if you can only take a few inches of him before he’s already prodding the back of your throat, making you cough around him.

“Don’t wimp out on me now, woman,” he says, grabbing himself at his base with a squeeze, using his thumb to line himself up with your throat perfectly.

“You wanna take my dick then fuckin’ take it,” he adds, grabbing the back of your hair to tilt your head back and your chin up towards him. He hums to you a simple ‘relax’ as he slowly pushes his length further into your throat, stopping when he meets a resistance with a throaty groan that has you whining around him, too. He tried his best to keep quiet, but your watery eyes and furrowed brows looking up at him with his dick shoved down your throat made his resolve disappear.

“Breathe,” he commands as he slips out of your throat, leaving you a coughing, sputtering mess with your lips still pressed against his tip. You follow his lead, taking a deep breath in and out before he pulls your mouth open with a thumb on your chin.

“Deeper this time, yeah?” He asks, quickly shoving his length further than before, nearly balls deep into your throat as your eyes shoot open and you swallow on instinct, earning a breathy ‘fuck’ from the man above you. You breathe out slowly through your nose, focusing your mind on doing anything but gagging. You squeeze his thighs to anchor yourself, pulling back from him almost entirely with a gasp before you force your head down again. You feel your throat start to relax as you continue your slow back and forth motion, trying to take him deeper with every thrust into your mouth. His hips are bucking lazily now as he tries his hardest to be somewhat gentle. As gentle as a man can be with a hand gripping your hair and the other guiding his monstrously large cock into your wet heat.

“Hah, l-look at you. I’ll have that throat trained for me in no time,” he praises, admiring how incredible you look as you throat him, watching how the dim parking lot lighting illuminates you enough for him to see the noticeable bulge in your neck. He can’t help but thrust more powerfully now, seeing as you were already taking his dick with ease after such a short amount of time. You meet his thrusts with your hand wrapping around the remainder of his shaft, stroking what you couldn’t reach with your mouth.

You pull off from him and you swear he pouts, bucking into your continued stroking as you kiss his tip.

“Who says I need my throat trained for you? Who says this will ever happen again?” You ask, curious how he would react.

He laughs, biting his lip to hide the moan that nearly slips.

“Oh, s-so you don’t want me to fuck you?” And he had you there. You start to run your hand furiously over his weeping tip and the sudden increase in sensation has him buckling over, mouth agape as heaving breaths signal how close he is. You’re barely able to suck his tip again before he’s removing your hands, pushing you back to sit on your feet.

“Fuck..y/n, open up,” he says as he strokes his length meticulously, grunts leaving his mouth as his fingers run over the tip repeatedly, “gonna’ paint that - fuck, pretty.. fuckin’ face,” he manages, smiling with an almost pained look as you loll your tongue out obediently. He can’t warn you any further before he’s cumming, white hot liquid pouring into your mouth as you jump in surprise at the sheer volume. With each spurt he’s moaning, strings of profanities leaving his lips as he sees white. You reach your hand up to finish the job, giving him a few final strokes before you suck on his tip a final time, swallowing his gift for you with a smile on your face. You wipe the remainder of your face with your sleeves as you stand to your feet.

“Come here,” he says, drunk on the feeling still as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss.

You pull away, “Now what?”

He chuckles, “hah, we go home,” he says, checking his watch that reads a depressing ‘3:17’, “unless you need my dick that bad.”

While you did actually need his dick that bad, that wasn’t the problem bothering you in the moment.

“Sukuna, I don’t have my keys. Just my phone,” you offer. He reaches down to dust off his shirt before he puts it back on. He motions for you to follow him as he grabs his keys out of his pocket.

“Guess you’re getting what you want after all.”

(pt. 2 in the works)

#jjk smut #fruit punch #fpoc #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #smut #jjk ryomen #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut #Spotify

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absolutebl · 5 months ago

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This Week in BL - I Still On1y Care About...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Sept 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 7 of 12 - Deeeelightful. They are so damn cute + a nice kiss! The rise of the green flag semes continues. I like it when Diew flirts and shows that he does have some experience in a relationship, and he can/will flex his power. Props to God for being a man who remembers to TAKE HIS DRINK with him.

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 4 of 10 - Yep I still like it and all its toxicity. It’s fun to see how closely it follows the original. Now I really can’t wait to see how this one ends. Since this time around we get an actual ending.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 6 of 12 - How did they know that what I wanted more than anything was a side couple = spoiled prince + demon lord? How clever they are to give them to me. Meanwhile, in a shocking twist, the leads have known each other since childhood. Because why be original?

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - Oh it’s very cute. I love Ing. I love that Ai was honest with his bestie. Best friend's older brother trope is a go! Also good kisses all round.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 1 of 12 - Ohm has his shirt off less than 5 min in. I guess GMMTV is learning what we want. My boy Title is the creep character again. I’m assuming that’s why GMMTV brought him on board at this juncture. Sigh. New boy, Q, looks like Mek’s younger brother. Ultimately? I'm not convinced on this one. It is doing what it says on the tin, but nothing more than that. I’m not wild about it, but I will keep watching.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - The more OffGun BLs, the more time they spend communicating as characters in those BLs. It’s kind of charming. They've become the pair that advocates for communication in relationships. I like it as evolution for their brand. Flirting via the printer was very fun. Especially as the Thai script is so beautiful.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 5 - I guess this is a lockdown narrative? Odd choice. A lot of familiar faces but from more minor rolls. Is this from the Destiny Seeker people? It feels like that. It’s a bigger cast than I was expecting, and a sort of classic university BL of the kind star Hunter produces. Or the end of love people. Pretty classic Thai pulp stuff. I’m mildly enjoying it. Hali is too hot to be the dorky second lead. Nice to see Boat back on my screen. However, it is… what’s the word I am looking for? Oh yes. Boring. Plus singing.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 5-6 of 12 - I entirely lost my mind over this show this week. Fuck me it's so good. The delicacy sends me. I keep expecting it to be clumsy and then is just isn't - it's so subtle and it demands we pay such close attention. I feel like I'm holding my breath the whole time I'm watching.

Cliff's notes on these 2 eps as follows:

The pure unadulterated tsundere of it all.

The awesome angst, it aches.

The series of repercussions after the fight was pacing genius.

The brilliant juxtaposition of "the kid who self isolates too easily" versus "the one who has been forced into isolation" meets both of them being smart enough to know why they react out of hurt, but neither can stop doing it.

Baby’s reaction to learning he’s going to be left behind = to instantly make plans to do the leaving in the future hurts my heart in the best possible way.

"Maybe what we call eternity is just persistence."

Maybe one boy simply deciding to be another boy's rock is romance.

Production better nail the second half of this show! It better be the world against them from here on out or the audience is gonna riot.

And by "audience" I mean me.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 5 of 10 - Oh noes! Poor baby boy!!! My heart hurts. But also gah so cute and next week they shack up together! Hooray!

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 11 - too much time spent on the girl again. I don’t need excuses for why she’s a bitch. So can we talk about Taichi instead? It’s such a good characterization, this boy who understands everything about other people but doesn’t notice anything about himself, including his own abilities of observation. The person who is special never realizes how special they are, I guess. The soundscapes are so good with this show. The moments where prod decided to be silent are so vital and so pivotal and used with such delicacy and strategy, it’s truly audio magic manipulation.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 7-8 of 12 - I loved how Orca just jumped on the stage. What a great side couple. CHARMED I TELL YOU. Orca was all… singing? Naw. I came back to fuck the manager's brains out. Anything less than that is unacceptable.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 10 fin - Essentially this was a growth story for Takara and an exercise in patience while the two of them learned each other’s quirks and languages. It was also an exercise in patience for me... who doesn’t like the power differential of a weaker younger character having to do all the pursuing while constantly feeling like he is inferior to the older popular hot character. I know this was a BL that was definitely for some people, since plenty liked it way more than I did, but I didn’t like it very much even though there’s nothing objectively wrong with it. It simply wasn’t to my personal taste. 7/10

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 5-6 of 8 - Enter an ex or something? Well he certainly has a type. Bah. This whole series seems to be mainly about cheating. It’s very annoying because they are all so pretty.

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - Based on a manga, longer than usual run time. A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL. Messy gay pain here we go.

Oh it’s exactly what I expected. Do I like it? No I do not. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. I have a bad feeling about this one. DNF

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Sat Gaga) eps 1-6 of 8 - Gaga picked this one up so we can watch it there. I'm waiting until the end, it seems angsty and confusing and full of awful people being awful. But also... high heat and I'm shallow. So we shall see which devil wins (and how it ends).

The Hidden Moon (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) ‘เดือนพราง’ by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger)... A Bangkok writer is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai which is being converted into a café. He gets into an accident and nearly dies on his way there. After that, he sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, one boy catches his attention. Was substantially recast. Couldn't find it. Didn't really look.

In case you missed it

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. It's just taking me some time. This isn't really a bingable show, not for me anyway. It's A LOT to take all at once. No new one this week.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Plus:

9/9 Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) 12 eps? - Be gay YinWar, do crimes. Dehup gives us Yin, War, Mark and a few other familiar faces in a Leverage sitch, only queerer.

9/14 Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sat ????) ?? eps - Remake of the original. I'm scared too.

9/15 Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - Assistant to a player boss who is in love with that boss decides to quit to save himself. The boss then makes a move. (A gay What's up with Secretary Kim?)

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming SEPTEMBER 2024:

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 eps - Lawyer and a con artist meet at a bar, pair up, fall in love.

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

9/? The Time of Fever (Korea iQIYI) 6 eps - HoTae & DongHee are back! Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names I an WILD for this.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Not sure what this is from but I capped it for a reason so, shrug.

The scent trope AND the childhood crush trope? I see you suckering me into one trope because I like the other. Clever, Battle. Very clever.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

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alllgator-blood · 9 months ago

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I have ten billion WIP sketches I need to finish, but for some reason I stayed up from 9 PM to 4 AM conceptualizing, making patterns, sewing, painting and applying makeup on this stupid fucking felt squid......the detailing needs to be cleaned up cause there's only one coat of paint so far, but he's pretty much done

my neighbors probably think I'm insane because I was running around the yard clenching this toy kallamar in a death grip and flying him around like an airplane/putting him in the barbecue/poking him with a stick. I want to tie him to a string and recreate the opening of napoleon dynamite >:) ALSO I MADE HIM SMOKE OUT OF A STUPID CRYSTAL PIPE BUT PLEASE DON'T ACTUALLY USE THOSE, THEY ARE SUPER TOXIC LMAO MINE IS FOR DECORATION

I don't have any process pics because I had tunnel vision autism style and forgot the rest of the universe existed while I was working on him. BUT if you're curious I'll ramble below the cut

Okay I am not a seamstress by any means. I've sewn my entire life but very, very infrequently. I've done plushies, clothes, cosplays, fursuits, accessories, etc. but I only do one like once a year, so while I planned to make all 5 bishops, I'm not really sure I'll get them all done. The material cost was like 20 bucks tops so I'm not too upset if I don't finish them. I AT LEAST WANT TO GET SHAMURA OR HEKET DONE.

here is the concept sketch ft. heket's toes and shamura's fingers. I decided to do his pre-schism version so I could fit him with jewelry! I did him first because like I said I sew infrequently and don't know wtf I'm doing, everyone else seemed a lot more complicated.

So I basically just traced this drawing on a printer paper-sized canvas in SAI, and guesstimated how everything would look in a 3D space. His head is four pieces, one triangle identical to the one in the picture, two wide triangles that are sewn together in the back, and a circle for his chin. You can't really see it in any of the pics but he's literally like a black cylindrical stick with little tentacles sewn on where his mantle connects to his cloak. The leg tentacles are one piece of felt that look like tassels, where they're connected by a rectangle but branch off into individual pieces. He can't stand up very well, so his cape keeps him up (that's gonna be an issue for every other bishop too except heket cause she's gonna be ROUND). Mostly everything like the crown, cloak, head, etc. are cones so I just had to make a lot of wide triangles.

For the details, I just used acrylic paint that was watered down so he's not especially crunchy, and for the blush tone I used a makeup palette my mom bought me 10 years ago in hopes I'd get in touch with my "feminine side", but I grew up into a nonbinary butch lesbian so OOPS. Kallamar looks better with makeup than me anyway. I'm kinda sad I couldn't get his freckles as lopsided as I draw them but it probably looks better in plush form to have them even anyway....

I could just post the pattern so I don't have to explain this but 1. I am mentally ill about the thought of my kallamar being in someone else's house and 2. the original pattern had to be tweaked while I was working on him so the final pattern straight up doesn't exist, I winged it the whole time

OH and the jewelry is just scrap pieces I had laying around, I might repaint it all to be gold instead of silver + bronze. I used 20g aluminum wire for his armlet thing, jumper rings for his earrings + ring (+ a diamond dot from my mom's kits for the gem) and chain for the bracelet. I made him an amulet as well but it felt like overkill so I took it off. I'm probably gonna make him a plague doctor mask and medicine bag sometime because I think about nurse kallamar more than I probably should :') I've already sewn one as a prop for a toy raven before so it shouldn't be too hard

#cult of the lamb #cotl #kallamar #plushie #felt craft #does this count as a plush or is it like a doll idfk #I just make shit because I feel like it not cause I can categorize it in any way #drug cw #ONLY CAUSE OF THE REAL PIPE #THERE IS NO ACTUAL DRUG USE HAPPENING

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mrghostrat · 6 months ago

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since we’re on the topic of bookbinding, i’ve been wanting to get into it but i haven’t actually done any research (yet) other than vibes, so do u have any tips for complete beginners?? :)

@geminibookbinding is who inspired me to finally look up the whole process and figure out where to start! this is the super helpful tutorial i got from them

i had dabbled with binding before though, using Sea Lemon's tutorials to make blank sketchbooks yearsss ago. i still use her text block and diy hardcover videos as a refresher/reminder while i bind!

the biggest thing that stopped me from learning to bind printed fiction was not understanding how to print the text from home, specifically how to get the pages in the right order for signatures. it's actually so easy with some very simple to use programs: QuantumElephant for PC users (free), and I use BookletCreator on Mac ($20)

i want to go into more detail about my process and supplies from a beginner perspective, i hope this helps:

format the text in a word processor

export your document as a single page PDF

enter that PDF file into Quantum Elephant or BookletCreator, to rearrange the pages for your signatures. your program will give you a new PDF file that you can then print.

4. double sided printing: i was so so scared of this at first, but it's incredibly simple. no matter what printer you have, somewhere in your print settings will be an option to print even or odd pages.

print all the even pages first, then when the stack is finished printing, flip them over, insert them back into the paper feed, and print the odd pages.

5. fold the signatures together so you have a stack of little booklets, then mark on the spine where your sewing holes need to be. manually punch the holes using an awl, or diy an awl by stuffing a cork on the end of a straight needle.

6. sewing: take regular sewing thread and run it over a block of beeswax. this makes the thread easier to manage and holds it in place better while you sew. a curved needle is also much easier to use than a straight one, especially for a kettle stitch (using Sea Lemon's tutorial)

7. gluing: glue decorative pages (or plain, but thicker paper) to the front and back to create your end pages, then press the book flat to apply PVA glue to the spine. press it overnight so the glue dries flat. (optional: glue a ribbon to the top of the spine, then sew on headbands) finally glue an additional piece of paper (or mull) around the spine to strengthen it.

8. optional: trim the edges of your book down to create a smooth edge. this one's given me the most trouble because it's very hard to get right with a knife, and the proper supplies are expensive. check your local stationery shop (i.e. Officeworks, Staples) for an industrial guillotine service

9. cover: once you have the final measurements of your text block you can start making the cover. this is essentially gluing cardboard, binders board, or plywood etc to a sheet of fabric. the fabric either needs to be bookcloth, or have some kind of non-porous back so the glue doesn't seep through. you can diy bookcloth from any fabric with tissue paper. then glue the decorate end pages to your cover to attach the textblock!

#ask a rat #libratian #book binding

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shotmrmiller · 1 year ago

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A chance encounter.

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F! Reader

TW: none other than TOOTH ROTTING CUTE FLUFF

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You have had a bad week but today has been horrific. You had awoken 15 minutes before the alarm, get up to shower, and the water had gone ice cold when you had shampoo in your hair.Stumbling out after a freezing shower, you were pulling on a tank top when the back of it twisted because you didn't fully dry yourself so that had you fighting it for 10 minutes and you still had to squeeze into an office skirt and button up. You ran as fast as you could in heels to your car and drove at an illegal speed to try and get to work on time— only to have your boss drown you in paperwork before snapping at you about a lack of coffee on his desk. Your only reprieve is that it's Friday and you don't work Monday. Fuck this job, fuck this week, and fuck whoever jammed the paper printer and left it like that.

Looking at the clock, you see the end of your shift has come— and you couldn't grab your keys and sprint out of the door fast enough. All you could think about was going to a grocery store and getting a bottle of wine before going home and ordering some Mexican food.

----

Standing in the alcohol section, you're biting the tip of your thumb as you try to pick which brand of cheap wine would give you the least painful hangover when a baritone voice from behind you interrupts your train of thought.

"I wouldn't recommend you a two-buck chuck for a Friday evening."

Without facing him, you say, "I'm sorry?"

With a lovely British accent, he translates. "A box of red Moscato will serve you in nothing but a terrible headache."

Scoffing, you turn to tell him to piss off— but your retort is caught in your throat. A beautiful man is the owner of that voice. Bronze complexion and tall like a runway model with a cap that had the U.K. flag on it. Chocolate eyes, straight nose, sculpted jaw, lush lips and a 5 o'clock shadow. He looked like a man out of a romance movie.

Your cheeks redden and stammer, "I— uh, don't want to pay for a good bottle I plan on getting drunk on."

He lets out a laugh, straight white teeth with pointy canines— you curse your weakness for mythical creatures— and extends his hand.

"Gaz. Gaz Garrick."

Shaking his hand, you give him your name.

"Well, speaking of wine, I'd love to personally recommend you a bottle over dinner."

'This isn't real,' you think. 'What could a man carved by Michaelangelo himself want with someone like you?'

He takes in your gaping mouth and widened eyes as a response.

"If you want, of course," he falters, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfo—"

"No!" you interrupt, "I mean yes! I'd love to go out to dinner with you, Kyle."

He relaxes his shoulders before letting out another entrancing laugh.

"Right, well, if you like— since I know you've got plans tonight— we exchange cell numbers and we can plan a date when it's the most convenient for you. I'll be in America for a bit."

You're too excited to wonder at what he meant by that and take out your phone, nodding eagerly. You're about to ask him what his number is when he shoves his unlocked phone into your hand and takes yours. Exchanging phones again, you look down at his contact page. Kyle with a blue heart next to it.

You're blushing furiously but look up at him and smile.

"Alrighty, Gaz. I gotta get goin', I got a couch and take-out calling my name. But I will text you."

"I hope you do, love. Otherwise, I'll be gutted."

Grabbing the box of wine, your heels click as you walk down to the register— and you can feel the burn of his gaze on your back. Someone somewhere was looking out for you because you just happened to be wearing the most flattering office skirt you own. Paying and grabbing the receipt, you leave the store with a pep in your step and a silly little smile on your face. You couldn't wait to see him again.

---

Finally at home in an oversized tee and sweatpants, you're lounging on your sofa. Fluffy socked feet up on your coffee table with a full wine glass in your one hand, you're changing the TV from Youtube to the Netflix you never use. Taking a sip as you scroll through the popular on Netflix list when you see a recognizable face.

You shoot up from the couch, spine ramrod straight as you squint your eyes at the screen.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Gaz?"

'Last letter from your lover' starring up-and-coming british star Kyle Garrick---- The letters after that blur together. No shot he's ACTUALLY from a movie!

Slamming your plastic wine glass down on the table, you scramble to your phone before sending 'Gaz' a text.

You: Hey.

Gaz: Hey, love. I didn't think you'd reach out so soon. Can't say I'm not glad though.

You: Yeah well, I just happened to come across something peculiar and I thought of you.

Gaz: Oh? I'm flattered I made such an impression.

You: Yeah! I just saw the preview to 'Last letter from your lover'. You wouldn't happen to be Kyle Garrick?

Gaz: Ah— right. Listen, my name IS Gaz. It's what friends and loved ones call me. You not recognizing me from the get-go was a breath of fresh air. I understand if this could be an issue for you.

You: It just took me by surprise. How about you make it up to me tomorrow evening? You've set high expectations for your choices in wine.

Gaz: Absolutely, love. I promise I won't disappoint. Tomorrow then, at 7.

You grab your sofa cushion and smush your face into it before screaming at the top of your lungs. Grabbing the box of wine, you store it in the fridge and get ready for bed. No hangover for you, after all—You've got a date!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you

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duran-binding · 6 months ago

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Happy Fanfiction Writer Appreciation Day!!! @renegadepublishing put on their 3rd annual of this event today and I am so excited I got to participate! 🤩

I was originally not sure if I would 😅 I wanted it to be a story that was very special to me and as luck would have it, my author responded ❤️ I've been having an absolute BLAST reading and re-reading Fate Set Right by @mltrefry-ficwriter with @maleeka_mols_creates @jen.anderson.books and @sarahemaginnis on IG the past few months as everyone reads it for the first time ❤️ I think I have read it 5 or 6 times at this point 🤣 I will be still reading this when I am 80 👵

Some details: I wanted the books to flow from light hearted colors to middling colors to dark colors to flow with the story. I tried to also translate this into the endpapers and the endbands :) endbands were gutermann silk due to my color choices was going for an ombre effect across them but that needed work xD it's ok. The top edges are gilt with holographic foil. The endpapers are marbled paper from Sustain & Heal that I picked up at the Printer's fair last year :) the bookcloth was sourced from Kater Craft auctions last year as well. Covers are hand foiled ❤️

#bookbinding #fanbinding #fanfic binding #edgedecoration #gildededges #foilededges #renegadelovesfic #ffwad #sevmione #binding

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onceuponatown · 1 year ago

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The history of Christmas traditions kept evolving throughout the 19th century, when most of the familiar components of the modern Christmas including St. Nicholas, Santa Claus, and Christmas trees, became popular. The changes in how Christmas was celebrated were so profound that it's safe to say someone alive in 1800 would not even recognize the Christmas celebrations held in 1900.

Washington Irving and St. Nicholas

Early Dutch settlers of New York considered St. Nicholas to be their patron saint and practiced a yearly ritual of hanging stockings to receive presents on St. Nicholas Eve, in early December. Washington Irving, in his fanciful History of New York, mentioned that St. Nicholas had a wagon he could ride “over the tops of trees” when he brought “his yearly presents to children.”

The Dutch word “Sinterklaas” for St. Nicholas evolved into the English “Santa Claus,” thanks in part to a New York City printer, William Gilley, who published an anonymous poem referring to “Santeclaus” in a children’s book in 1821. The poem was also the first mention of a character based on St. Nicholas having a sleigh, in this case, pulled by a single reindeer.

Clement Clarke Moore and The Night Before Christmas

Perhaps the best-known poem in the English language is “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” or as it’s often called, “The Night Before Christmas.” Its author, Clement Clarke Moore, a professor who owned an estate on the west side of Manhattan, would have been quite familiar with the St. Nicholas traditions followed in early 19th century New York. The poem was first published, anonymously, in a newspaper in Troy, New York, on December 23, 1823.

Reading the poem today, one might assume that Moore simply portrayed the common traditions. Yet he actually did something quite radical by changing some of the traditions while also describing features that were entirely new.

For instance, the St. Nicholas gift giving would have taken place on December 5, the eve of St. Nicholas Day. Moore moved the events he describes to Christmas Eve. He also came up with the concept of “St. Nick” having eight reindeer, each of them with a distinctive name.

Charles Dickens and A Christmas Carol

The other great work of Christmas literature from the 19th century is A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. In writing the tale of Ebenezer Scrooge, Dickens wanted to comment on greed in Victorian Britain. He also made Christmas a more prominent holiday and permanently associated himself with Christmas celebrations.

Dickens was inspired to write his classic story after speaking to working people in the industrial city of Manchester, England, in early October 1843. He wrote A Christmas Carol quickly, and when it appeared in bookstores the week before Christmas 1843 it began to sell very well.

The book crossed the Atlantic and began to sell in America in time for Christmas 1844, and became extremely popular. When Dickens made his second trip to America in 1867 crowds clamored to hear him read from A Christmas Carol. His tale of Scrooge and the true meaning of Christmas had become an American favorite. The story has never been out of print, and Scrooge is one of the best-known characters in literature.

Santa Claus Drawn by Thomas Nast

The famed American cartoonist Thomas Nast is generally credited as having invented the modern depiction of Santa Claus. Nast, who had worked as a magazine illustrator and created campaign posters for Abraham Lincoln in 1860, was hired by Harper’s Weekly in 1862. For the Christmas season, he was assigned to draw the magazine’s cover, and legend has it that Lincoln himself requested a depiction of Santa Claus visiting Union troops.

The resulting cover, from Harper’s Weekly dated January 3, 1863, was a hit. It shows Santa Claus on his sleigh, which has arrived at a U.S. Army camp festooned with a “Welcome Santa Claus” sign.

Santa’s suit features the stars and stripes of the American flag, and he’s distributing Christmas packages to the soldiers. One soldier is holding up a new pair of socks, which might be a boring present today, but would have been a highly prized item in the Army of the Potomac.

Beneath Nast's illustration was the caption, “Santa Claus In Camp.” Appearing not long after the carnage at Antietam and Fredericksburg, the magazine cover is an apparent attempt to boost morale in a dark time.

The Santa Claus illustrations proved so popular that Thomas Nast kept drawing them every year for decades. He is also credited with creating the notion that Santa lived at the North Pole and kept a workshop manned by elves. The figure of Santa Claus endured, with the version drawn by Nast becoming the accepted standard version of the character. By the early 20th century the Nast-inspired version of Santa became a very common figure in advertising.

Prince Albert and Queen Victoria Made Christmas Trees Fashionable

The tradition of the Christmas tree came from Germany, and there are accounts of early 19th century Christmas trees in America, but the custom wasn’t widespread outside German communities.

The Christmas tree first gained popularity in British and American society thanks to the husband of Queen Victoria, the German-born Prince Albert. He installed a decorated Christmas tree at Windsor Castle in 1841, and woodcut illustrations of the Royal Family’s tree appeared in London magazines in 1848. Those illustrations, published in America a year later, created the fashionable impression of the Christmas tree in upper-class homes.

By the late 1850s reports of Christmas trees were appearing in American newspapers. And in the years following the Civil War ordinary American households celebrated the season by decorating a Christmas tree.

The first electric Christmas tree lights appeared in the 1880s, thanks to an associate of Thomas Edison, but were too costly for most households. Most people in the 1800s lit their Christmas trees with small candles.

The First White House Christmas Tree

The first Christmas tree in the White House was displayed in 1889, during the presidency of Benjamin Harrison. The Harrison family, including his young grandchildren, decorated the tree with toy soldiers and glass ornaments for their small family gathering.

There are some reports of president Franklin Pierce displaying a Christmas tree in the early 1850s. But the stories of a Pierce tree are vague and there doesn't seem to be contemporaneous mentions in newspapers of the time.

Benjamin Harrison's Christmas cheer was closely documented in newspaper accounts. An article on the front page of the New York Times on Christmas Day 1889 detailed the lavish presents he was going to give his grandchildren. And though Harrison was generally regarded as a fairly serious person, he vigorously embraced the Christmas spirit.

Not all subsequent presidents continued the tradition of having a Christmas tree in the White House. By the middle of the 20th century, White House Christmas trees became established. And over the years it has evolved into an elaborate and very public production.

The first National Christmas Tree was placed on The Ellipse, an area just south of the White House, in 1923, and the lighting of it was presided over by President Calvin Coolidge. The lighting of the National Christmas Tree has become quite a large annual event, typically presided over by the current president and members of the First Family.

Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus

In 1897 an eight-year-old girl in New York City wrote to a newspaper, the New York Sun, asking if her friends, who doubted the existence of Santa Claus, were right. An editor at the newspaper, Francis Pharcellus Church, responded by publishing, on September 21, 1897, an unsigned editorial. The response to the little girl has become the most famous newspaper editorial ever printed.

The second paragraph is often quoted:

"Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS."

Church’s eloquent editorial asserting the existence of Santa Claus seemed a fitting conclusion to a century that began with modest observances of St. Nicholas and ended with the foundations of the modern Christmas season firmly intact.

By the end of the 19th century, the essential components of a modern Christmas, from Santa to the story of Scrooge to strings of electric lights were firmly established in America.

Source

#christmas #christmas tree #christmas traditions #victorian christmas #victorians

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quartergremlin · 2 months ago

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Guess who found out that there's a limit for the number of links in one post. Its 100. So clarification is getting shunted off to its own post!

Clarification, the Turtle Gender Comic (updates every few months)

Currently: Donnie's Broach, Leo's nest

Main Comic (these are all chained together):

Part 1: 1: egg baby, 2: egg baby, ask: eggs and aliens, 3: constipation, 4: bra, 5: guess, ask: girl, 6: secret turtle gender, 7: secret turtle gender part 2, 8: free nutrients, 9: except for emotional damage, 10: unanswered, 11: answered, 12: cramps, 13: Donnie's Nest, 14: water 1, 15: water 2, 16: wave, 17: It's a boy

Part 2: 18: jazzy dance, 19: guess 2, 20: top surgery, 21: donnie thinks, 22: nests, 23: meet n greet, 24: blanket, 25: magpie, 26: blanket 2, 27: sleepover, 28: donnie's nest 2, 29: it begins, 30: it begins cont., 31: it ends

Part 3: 32: "regular eggs", 33: cilantro

In the Future:

Leo and Yu: burmation, one 1, trying, one 2, one 3, ask: swimmers, one 4, one 5, one (ask), one 6, ask: swimmers 2, ask: so is it eggs or..., printer jam, printer jam (alt)

Mikey: friend, baby fever 1, baby fever 2, jesus egg, splinter 1, splitner 2, contention 1, contention 2, The Book, the future, welcome, the future 2, yippee, worry, babysitter, vs the school system, phone, mom?, ask: home

Shelldon and PSDD: office visit, office visit 2, office visit 3, annoying, shelldon and psdd, gearheads interview

Donnie: high stakes business brunch

Casey: Jocelyn, Casey III

Jess: The drowned titan, the mon

Misc:

pizza supreme 1, pizza supreme 2, scales, scales 2, scales 3, shedding, shedding 2, skin, shell, sword care 1, sword care 2, functional dating, jess background, lapdog, Id's and flags (minor spoilers), store-bought

#clarification comic #for organizational purposes dont mind me

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lionhanie · 30 days ago

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the first snow (lee riwoo)

working during the holidays isn’t too bad with sanghyeok by your side

co-worker!riwoo x gn!reader (non-idol au)

this work is my contribution to @onedoornet’s christmas event, a very onedoor christmas! check it out here!

word count: 4.1k ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ genre: fluff

warnings: a pinch of angst i'd say (alluding to burnout/seasonal depression), reader is a people pleaser, i curse maybe twice lol, riwoo is referred to as sanghyeok!

a/n: SORRY I KNOW CHRISTMAS IS OVER…. had fun writing it regardless :,) hope u enjoy ^^

reblogs ↺ + feedback always appreciated!

Being one of the younger workers in the office was frustrating to say the least. Pausing your work to complete trivial tasks in the middle of the workday – making copies of a meeting agenda, fetching your seniors’ morning coffees, reorganizing the ridiculously large stack of your current client’s files – the list seemed to never end. For some reason, everyone around you was conveniently occupied with something so urgent that they couldn’t attend to the matters themselves, leaving the responsibility up to you. Sometimes you felt like you spent more time faced with useless errands than doing the work you were hired to do in the first place.

You were expecting a bit more respect from your peers when you were appointed as the team leader for your company’s newest project, but you were quick to realize your naivety in the earlier group meetings, finding that no one seemed to take you seriously. You would’ve thought that because the other members on the project had years of experience on their side, surely they’d be able to hold their weight to a certain extent... Right?

Painfully enough, it was the complete opposite. You can’t count the number of times one of the more “experienced” workers asked you to repeat a detail you’d discussed just minutes prior, or proposed a suggestion that completely contradicted the end goal of your client– it was clear to you that no one saw your leadership as more than a joke, no matter how hard you tried.

And to top it all off, your company was structured in such a way that made it nearly impossible for you to speak up against your elders. Your word as a senior associate meant close to nothing if you were going against one of the partners of the firm. It didn’t matter that you put in ten times more effort than your team members, it was almost as if they were praised according to how long they’ve been in the office.

Safe to say you were relieved when Sanghyeok was added as a member of the team you were leading on a random Tuesday afternoon. Not that you two were close by any means – the extent of your interactions consisted of small smiles exchanged in passing in the printer room or short discussions of weekend plans over coffee in the break room. Rather, you were hopeful that his addition to the project would mean someone would finally start contributing even a fraction of the work you were putting in.

Even though you dread your bi-weekly team meetings, it was so much more rewarding to at least one other person cared about the success of the project. Sanghyeok was always in his unassigned-assigned seat right by the projector, intently nodding along to your agenda and taking notes when he deemed necessary. Hell, he’d even chime in whenever someone would ask a question that was obviously answered earlier in the presentation, giving you the chance to save your breath for something that actually mattered, and shooting you a cheeky grin afterwards, clearly satisfied helping you whenever he could.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Four days before the deadline. . .

Everyone begins to pack up their belongings the second it hits 5:00PM, slowly but surely filing out of the office before it gets too dark. It was no surprise to see your colleagues zipping up their briefcases far earlier than you planned on clocking out; the project deadline crept up on you faster than you’d like to admit, and your mostly incompetent team forced you to work overtime a majority of the recent weeks. In any other case, you probably wouldn’t be breaking your back hunched over your keyboard hours after the sun had set, but because the project was in your name, it pained you to present a finished product you weren’t proud of.

“You aren’t leaving yet, Y/N?” You look up from your monitor, finding Sanghyeok looking at you from across your cubicle, wrapping a plush scarf around his neck. His eyes are full of concern– he’s noticed the way you never seem to budge once your peers start going home for the night. Even on days when he logs off later than he’d initially planned to, you’re still there, typing away at your desk.

“Agh, our Y/N is always so hardworking! They never seem to leave with the rest of us,” Alvin, a senior on your project notorious for sending in half-assed work far past the deadline you set for him, comments from his seat beside you. “I could never put in as much work as you do, not when I’ve got a family waiting for me at home!” Yeah, no shit. It’s hard to believe he’s stayed at the company so long performing the same quality of work you were doing in your first year in the office.

His words stung a bit, feeling oddly bitter at the idea of someone like him having people who loved him waiting for him to return from work– Coming back home to an empty apartment late at night never used to bother you, but something about the long winter nights and freezing temperatures made it undoubtedly sad in nature. It wasn’t just the weather making your loneliness feel colder than usual.

The smile you return is painfully fake, something Sanghyeok clocks almost immediately. He gnaws on his lip, wanting to say something to the senior, ultimately deciding to hold back on it given how new he was to the project. Maybe it wasn’t his place. He didn’t want to make things worse for you by saying something out of line. Alvin shrugs his coat onto his back, quickly leaving the premises without another word.

“If I didn’t see you in a new outfit everyday, I’d think you slept at your desk,” Sanghyeok jokes, trying to lighten the mood. From his first meeting with the new team, he quickly learned to admire the way you seemed to take charge when you needed to. It was impressive the way you’d joined the company later than he had, and were already put in charge of such a big task. He knew exactly how it felt to deal with all the stupid tasks from the other seniors in the office, finding himself doing the same thing for weeks before you came in.

You chuckle pitifully, mainly towards yourself. “At this point, I should stop paying rent and start living at my desk.” You groan as you take a break for a well-needed stretch, your back cracking from your poor posture. “Some days I feel like I’m in the office more than my apartment.” Your words are lighthearted, but Sanghyeok notices the underlying melancholy in your statement.

And Sanghyeok takes his leave, only after wishing you good luck and a “get home safe” as he always does, but he can’t stop thinking about how much time you’ve been putting into your work. He’s constantly shut down whenever he asks you if there’s anything else he can help with, just wanting to take a fraction of the load off your plate.

He knows you’re doing it just to be nice. You’re the type of person to take on a burden all on your own, even if it means committing to the ungodly hours you’ve become so used to. Even on the bus ride home, Sanghyeok can’t shake your tired eyes out of his mind. For some reason, it hurts to imagine you slowly killing yourself over a silly project all because no one had the decency to bother trying when they knew you’d fix it for them anyways. He wanted to do more… No, he needed to do more.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Three days before the deadline. . .

Sanghyeok wonders how you’re always earlier than him when he walks into the office, finding you so put-together and diligently editing the project presentation when he’s still groggy after his commute to work.

The workload around the holidays is never too demanding, thankfully the company’s clients normally don’t ask for much as the year comes to an end. In your case, however, all your time is spent on trying to perfect the project proposal for your overwhelmingly-nitpicky boss. You’re convinced it’s some sort of test to see how good you’d be leading a team before you get the promotion you’ve been waiting on for the past couple months. Even if you make it out of your boss’ critiques alive, you’re certain you’ve lost countless years off your life with all the stress weighing down on you.

You lock eyes with Sanghyeok every once in a while, finding him peeking over the divider separating your desks more than normal. That’s odd. You figure it’s probably because he has a question about the numerous items that still need fixing on the project. It doesn’t occur to you that he wants to talk to you until he rises from his chair, tapping his pen on the top of your monitor to catch your attention.

“I don’t know if you saw, but I just fixed a lot of the trouble areas you mentioned in the meeting the other day,” He’s excessively clicking the pen in his free hand, feeling oddly nervous to show you his work even when he knows he did everything properly– He knows how high your expectations are when it comes to your job. “I’m pretty sure I made sure to do everything you asked for, but you might want to double-check if I missed anything.”

The gasp of relief you let out is uncharacteristically loud, so much so that it earns you a side-eye from Alvin, who was currently playing solitaire at his desk next to you. He’d just saved you hours of overtime with his work, finding everything done to a tee. “No, no, this is perfect. I was dying to fix those until I realized I forgot Christian told me to come with him for his fieldwork later and–”

“It doesn’t matter who goes with him, right? I’ll go with him instead.”

“Huh? Are you sure? I don’t mind, plus he specifically asked me so maybe–”

“Y/N, it’s fine, really! I used to go on client visits all the time before he started dragging you along with him. I’ll be okay, promise!” He’s confident in his words, reassuring you of all the concerns he knew were starting to bubble up in your head. “I know you’ve been worried about getting everything done before the deadline, you shouldn’t have to waste your precious time following him around and pretending like you care about his wife.”

The comment makes you giggle, everyone knew the senior for the way he could go on and on about his family life knowing damn well no one was actually listening to his neverending rants. “Thank you, Sanghyeok. It means a lot, really.”

“Maybe we’ll be able to leave at the same time today, yeah?”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Two days before the deadline. . .

The following day, after everyone else in the office logged out for the night, Sanghyeok sneaks back into the office. He made it his mission to discreetly plant a care package for you while you’re busy in the printer room– It’s nothing big, no, rather just a hot cup of tea and a sandwich he’d purchased from the cafe across the street from the building.

You’d offhandedly mentioned the way you get so immersed in your work without anyone peering over your shoulder that you forget to cater to your growing hunger, often resorting to eating instant ramen in the break room before returning to your desk. Sanghyeok knew how much the project meant to you, but that didn’t mean he was going to let you neglect your health just for a positive response from your old boss.

You’re confused when you come back to your cubicle, finding all of your previously haphazardly scattered project papers perfectly organized in a folder by the edge of the desk. The lid was taken off the cup of tea, presumably to let it cool down a bit before drinking. Huh? The note atop the sandwich container answered the questions lingering in your mind.

hope you don’t mind me moving some stuff around on your desk :p eat up before you get back to work! good luck y/n! sanghyeok ( ≧ᗜ≦)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ One day before the deadline. . .

“You think Alvin will mind if I borrow his spot today?” Sanghyeok questions, swiveling around in an office chair that didn’t belong to him.

“You could probably erase all the files off his computer and he wouldn’t bat an eye,” You joke as you sort through the stacks of papers residing on your desk, looking for a particular document. “I’m convinced he gets paid to just sit there and play card games for eight hours.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him touch his keyboard.” Sanghyeok chuckles before logging into the computer beside you.

“Why’re you using his computer though? You’re not going home yet?”

“I think it’s only fair for me to help you finish the proposal when we’re supposed to be submitting it tomorrow,” Sanghyeok answers matter-of-factly. You watch as he opens up the same powerpoint you’ve been staring at on his own monitor. It’s quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from the occasional clicks of your mouse. “...Doesn’t it get lonely working all by yourself?”

You pause to think for a moment. It’s not the worst thing in the world, you’re sure you wouldn’t be capable of doing it everyday if it was that unbearable. “No, not really. If anything, it’s nice to not have anyone pulling me away from my desk for some stupid shit– Sorry, stupid stuff.” You correct yourself.

“I know we’re still at work and all, but you don’t need to censor yourself when it’s just us. I’m not gonna snitch on you for cursing on the clock, Y/N.” He teases, not surprised to see that you’re still in work-mode even when the office is practically empty.

“Oops, just force of habit. I'd rather die than accidently curse in front of one of the oldies we work with,” You smile sheepishly, feeling at ease with him at your side. You’re not sure when you grew so fond of the man – maybe it’s because of how similar you are in age or the way he’s always so quick to defend you in the meeting room – but he’s always felt like more of a friend than a co-worker in times like these. “...It’s nice to have some company for a change, though. Felt like I was going insane looking at the same documents all by myself.”

“It’s okay to admit you get lonely sometimes, Y/N.” Sanghyeok pauses his typing to look at you, his eyes soft when they meet yours. “I was thinking about it on my way home the other day, you know, the way you willingly stay in the office after everyone leaves every night. It’s hard to imagine it isn’t difficult being by yourself all the time.”

You’re silent, knowing that he’ll see through you no matter what you say. Sure, you had your fair share of moments sitting crying at your desk, in fear that your efforts wouldn’t pay off despite how much you’ve been trying, but that doesn’t mean you need his help. You made it this far all on your own, after all.

And when you fall asleep at your desk, exhaustion finally catching up to you, Sanghyeok doesn’t hesitate to rest a sweater on your back. He knows how upset you’ll be once you wake up, bummed that you dozed off at such a crucial time, but he’s more than happy to let you sleep for a bit before gently shaking you awake after a well-deserved power nap.

“Shit, how long was I knocked out for?” Embarrassed, you rub the sleep from your eyes, turning away to yawn.

“It wasn’t even thirty minutes, you’ll be fine Y/N. I finished editing a section of the report while you were sleeping too.” You tap on your mouse, waking up the black screen, happy to see that a good chunk of the comments you’d made on the document were long resolved. “Can you promise me something?”

You’re offset by the sudden serious mood lingering between you two, but you slowly nod regardless. “Even when this project is over, will you promise to come to me if you need help?”

“I know I only joined your team recently, but I want you to know you can depend on me. It’s not fair for you to do all this on your own,” Sanghyeok can sense the way you’re processing his request in your mind, watching as you hesitate to answer. “I know it’s probably weird coming from someone who’s only been here a couple months longer than you, but I promise I’ll try my best if you ever need me.”

“Okay.”

“...So that means you won’t try to turn me down whenever I offer to do something for you, right?”

“Yes, Sanghyeok, I won’t turn you down when you try to help me.” You roll your eyes at him before turning back to your computer, missing the way his face lights up at your response, proudly smiling to himself.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The day of the deadline. . .

You’re sure you could cry tears of joy when you send the final version of your project proposal to your boss. There were a few sections you wish you had more time to perfect, but it was impossible without an extension to your deadline– There’s nothing else to do but wait until you get feedback, which is entirely out of your hands at this point. 7:15PM. It’s still two hours past the usual 5:00PM ending time, but far earlier than you’ve clocked out in the past two weeks.

“You’re actually leaving at the same time as me? I’m not dreaming, right?” Sanghyeok pinches at his cheek, earning a giggle from you in response.

“Well, I just forwarded all the documents to our boss. Felt like I deserved at least one early night during the holidays,” You close your eyes as you fall back in your chair, letting out a content sigh knowing there wasn’t anything else you had to do for a while. “God, I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sanghyeok.”

He holds the door for you after you’ve both collected all of your belongings, bundled up for the harsh temperatures waiting for you outside the building. The elevator ride down is silent until the man next to you clears his throat, prompting you to look at him. “So, do you have plans tonight?”

“Ah, not really. I was planning on picking up some dinner at the convenience store before heading back to my place.” He nods, fiddling with his tie in a feeble attempt to calm down his nerves from what he was about to do.

“Can I take you out to dinner, Y/N?” Your eyes widen slightly, unsure what to make of the question. Was he… asking you on a date right now? It wasn’t out of the ordinary for coworkers to share a meal off the clock, but the fact that it was just the two of you had your brain malfunctioning. “...You know, as a thank you for working so hard on the project! It’s the least I can do.” Sanghyeok laughed nervously, hand flying up to the back of his neck as he waited for your response.

It doesn’t take long for you to decide your answer, nodding in confirmation, feeling slightly bashful at the sudden act of appreciation you weren’t used to receiving, especially not at work. There’s a pep in his step as he brings to you one of his favorite ramen spots, a hole-in-the-wall joint tucked away from the main streets. It’s cute, honestly. You’ve learned a lot about your coworker in recent days, but this side of him was entirely new to you.

You’re glad you trusted his recommendations when you take your first bite, the hot broth immediately melting the chills you garnered from the short walk there. Despite this being your first interaction with Sanghyeok outside of work, there’s no awkwardness in your time spent together– Instead, a fuzzy feeling rests in your chest as you look at the man sitting across the table from you. Perhaps it’s due to the newfound absence of pressure on your back from sending in the project proposal, or maybe because it’s the first time you’ve allowed yourself a proper meal in days, but it’s a feeling you don’t wish to lose any time soon.

Usually you’re one to rush back home immediately after dinner, not wanting to lose any second of rest you have before you’re forced to go back to the hell you call work, but you’re more than happy to accept Sanghyeok’s invitation to go to a nearby bar for some drinks following the meal you shared. It’s there you realize he’s a lot wittier than he comes off as when you’re on the clock, your cheeks aching from smiling so hard at his endless supply of jokes.

You don’t stay there long, only garnering a couple drinks before finding yourself walking around one of the parks in the area you didn’t even know existed, gawking at the string lights adorning the trees. Work was taking up all of your attention that you didn’t even have the time to decorate your apartment for the holidays like you normally would’ve. This was the closest thing you could get, but you were far from complaining.

“I never expected you to be like this, Sanghyeok.” You confess after coming down from the fit of laughter he’d induced with one of his stupid puns.

“What do you mean?” He asks, worried that he’d done something wrong.

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to say anything bad! You’re just… A breath of fresh air, I guess.” Your words emit a cloud of vapor in the frigid air. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice it sooner, I’ve been a real shut-in especially with the deadline and–”

“You don’t need to apologize for that, Y/N.” He cuts you off; he’s well aware of your tendency to apologize for things that you didn’t need to be sorry for in the first place. It was one of the only things he wished he could change about you, wanting you to give yourself more credit for the love you poured into everything you did. “I just wanted to make your life easier, I guess. Thanks for giving me the chance to do that tonight.”

“I should really be the one thanking you. You’ve been nothing short of helpful ever since you joined our team,” Thinking back on the past couple days, Sanghyeok never once shied away from doing things to ease your burdens, even going out of his way so you could focus all your attention onto what mattered most to you. “It’s like you were some sort of holiday miracle sent to me.”

Unwrapping the scarf from his neck, Sanghyeok carefully loops it around the back of your head, securing it snugly at the front of your jacket. “It’s freezing… You should really be layering up more.” He’s glad the lighting on the trees is too dim for you to see the blush creeping up his neck after seeing you in his clothes. He’d probably blame it on the frosty air if you called him out on it. “Ah, it’s snowing!”

The gaze you were previously sharing is broken as you look up, crystal white snowflakes slowly sinking from the sky. It was surreal to be standing in the middle of the park, ambient light illuminating the way the snow ended their descent atop your heads, your shared laughter harmonizing at the sight.

And despite the cold weather, you felt warm standing next to him.

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