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mockerycrow · 1 year

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Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There��s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

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alexsoenomel · 1 year

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Seven Minutes In Heaven Ruined (Dean Winchester x Reader Smut)

Summary: You and Dean are horny and Sam doesn't know how to knock.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: oral female and male receiving

Word count: 1.2k

Note: This is an old one. I made it readable because teenage me didn't know how to words.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

After finishing the last case you realized two things.

One, you were tired as fuck.

And two, you were hungry as fuck.

After a warm shower you put on one of Dean’s flannels, and went to the kitchen to make yourself dinner. Your sweet tooth was craving blueberry pancakes. While you were making the pancake mix, you felt arms around your waist pulling you closer.

“Hey, sweetheart!” He said, and kissed your cheek.

“Hi handsome.” You smiled. You haven’t seen Dean in almost a week. He was pretty sick with a fever, so you and Sam went without him on a hunt in San Francisco – vampires, your favorite. He needed to sit this one out, even though he protested like a damn child saying he was fine while not being able to stand. When you got back he was asleep in his room so you didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was dreaming about.

“How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now that you are here.” He said leaving small kisses on your neck. You tilted your head giving him more access. His kisses would always make you shiver. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, handsome. Are you hungry? I’m making pancakes.”

“I am hungry.” Dean’s hand went on your inner thigh until it reached your panties slowly rubbing you, making you sigh. Cheeky bastard – you thought. “But I don’t want pancakes.” He whispered into your ear. "I love when you wear my clothes.”

“Sleeping.”

You tried to mix flour, eggs and whatever else that was in there but the urge for Dean’s touch grew and you suddenly had another need to fulfill. You turned around to face him, putting your arms around his neck.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked.

“Good.” He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him, making you blush. You pulled his shirt only craving the softness of his lips on yours. Seven long days without him felt like an eternity, especially at night – he was your home, your habit and your sanctuary. You kissed him softly and soon enough he deepened the kiss making you moan. When he stole the last breath from your lungs you broke away, resting your forehead on his.

“Bedroom?” You smiled.

“Hell yeah.”

His clothes hit the floor in seconds. Seven days without each other turned you into horny teenagers. He was only in his boxers laying on the bed looking at you, admiring the view and wondering how the hell he got so lucky. You climbed on top of him as he slowly started to undo your shirt – taking his sweet time savoring you. Infatuated by you, Dean’s eyes spoke louder than words and in that very moment you only existed for him. You kissed him like it was the end of the world, and funny thing was, at one point it was actually the end of the world, so nothing mattered anyways. The world could be burning and you wouldn’t care.

Once he exposed you completely, we flipped you over and you were now completely under his control. His hands could kill and yet he was so gentle with you, trying not to break you, even though you wouldn’t mind being broken by him from time to time.

“Dean, don’t tease.” You sigh.

Dean consumed you in every way there was. His lips needed to touch you, to feel you and you were desperate to feel him on your skin. Starting from your neck he kissed you, sucking and slightly biting, leaving light bruises all over. He then moved his lips lower and lower.

You became inpatient, needy and a little bit frustrated. His kisses had you under his spell but you wanted more. He kissed you through your black panties a few times, driving you mad.

You could feel him smirking while resting his lips on the fabric of your soaking underwear.

“Dean!” You blissfully moaned. “ Oh my god!”

“Just a little bit. “ He smirked and then took off your panties. You lifted your legs as he did it. His face went between your legs yet again and now you could only feel his warm tongue on your already wet cunt.

You closed your eyes, surrendering completely.

“Shhhh we don’t want to wake up my brother, don’t we sweetheart?”

“No, but you’re going to kill me.”

The wet sounds of your cunt filled the room as he added one finger first, pumping in and out slowly before adding another. He was aware you were addicted to his thick fingers, always so needy and desperate to have them in your pussy or in your mouth. You gripped the bed sheets as your breaths became heavy, feeling your climax deep in the lower part of your stomach. Before Dean it would take you ages to cum, and you always thought maybe the problem was you and not the other person you were sleeping with. After Dean, you realized that was bullshit and you just had a shitty taste in picking partners.

His name was like a prayer you were reciting over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. The orgasm took over your body completely as you screamed his name one last time before his hand violently covered your mouth.

He got up, face shining from your juices with a smile on his face.

“You’re crazy. Sam’s going to hear you!”

“You are so…” You said, trying to catch your breath.

“Amazing?” He laughed.

“And full of yourself Winchester.” You rolled your eyes, still painting.

“Oh well thank you.” Dean said moving next to you.

“Where is the damn condom?” Dean asked, searching through the drawer of his night stand. You giggled. The man never assumed or expected you to return the favor. Your pleasure was far more important than his own and taking care of you was his job and duty. You loved that about him, you loved being taken care of, but you also loved making him fall apart under you.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

He turned to face you. “Huh?”

You kissed him. “My turn.” Dean bit his lip as you rubbed him through his boxers.

“S-shit!” He moaned. “Baby!”

You placed light kisses all over his body before your lips reached the hem of his underwear. You took them off, drooling over his already hard cock. You licked the tip a few times as Dean groaned.

You smiled loving the effect you had on him and then took him in your mouth as much as you could.

His heaven didn’t last long because Sam decided to interrupt the pure bliss of having Dean’s cock in your mouth...yet again.

“Hey Dean can you- AH CRAP.” He said and immediately turned his back allowing you two to cover yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck not again.” You laughed.

You jumped under the covers with Dean. “SAMMY I SWEAR I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

“I’m sorry.” Sammy said awkwardly, still refusing to turn around. “But I found us a case.”

“I thought you were sleeping.” You said.

“I couldn’t….you were…a little bit…..loud.”

“So you heard her making happy noises IN MY ROOM and you still decided to come in?! WITHOUT KNOCKING? AGAIN?”

“After 10 minutes I thought…you were…finished.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I will wait in the living room.” He then slammed the door.

“I will kill him.” Dean said and got off the bed.

“Wait.” You said pulling his arm. “He can wait. I’m not done with you!”

“I love you. “ Dean said and kissed you again.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural fic #spn drabble #spn fanfic #dean winchester #spn fluff #supernatural fluff #spn fic #dean spn #supernatural dean #dean #dean winchester x reader smut #dean Winchester smut #dean x reader #dean smut #dean Winchester fluff #sam

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slvtforoldermen · 7 months

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Pedro’s Characters: The Dick-tionary

How big are Pedro Pascal’s characters and some NSFW headcannons

(WARNING: DETAILS OF PENISES AND TALKS OF SEX - MDNI)

Part Two <3

A/N: Sorry I never continued Fluff February :(, I lost motivation so I’ll just write them and post them as a prompt list for whenever…

Joel Miller:

Okay, all his characters are big, it’s a known fact, but Joel is 100% the biggest. Probably about 8.5 inches, with a pretty pink mushroom tip, and GIRTHY AGH! There’s a vein on it that is really visible when he’s hard. Oh and his balls are big too. Everything about Joel is just big. Not only is he big but you best believe he knows how to use it too. He’s got a daddy kink… Fav positions are missionary and cowgirl, however when he’s angry doggy or the mating press are a no-brainer. Daddy kink! DOMINANT!!! There’s no way this man is a sub, it just doesn’t work, he’s just so dom yknow, and when he’s soft, he’s the sweetest he’s ever been, but if he’s angry, hard dom Joel comes out and that’s a man you don’t wanna piss off if you wanna cum. He’s got such a daddy kink. “Fuck babygirl/boy, you’re so fucking sweet, sugar. So fucking good for daddy. Yeah baby? You like that? Such a good little girl/boy, so fucking sweet.” Daddy kink is such is a big thing for him. Hair wise? Well it’s the apocalypse so it’s probably hard to find the Manscaper 3000 or whatever. He trims his hair with some scissors, honestly he didn’t really care for shaving before you, so he just let it grow, but once when you were sucking him, you almost sneezed from how much it tickled your nose and made a little joke about it after, which made Joel feel a little bad so he cut them just a little shorter. Oh I’m sorry and did I mention… DADDY KINK!!!

Javier Peña:

(Here I’m purely writing about Javier Pena in a fictional sense AS PEDRO, not the real guy, this has nothing to do with the real Javier Pena)

Okay, Javier, my baby daddy. Um, who said that- ANYWAYS! Javier is probably the second biggest, in joint place with Oberyn, definitely about 7-7.5 inches, as he’s nicknamed by moi, the Pussy Slayer of Medellin. It goes without saying that Javier is rough, as we’ve seen, side note: I don’t know why I thought watching Narcos with my family would be a good idea… I was sat on the couch like “😀 okay, I’m watching Pedro have sex next to my mum, just a normal Saturday morning…” anyways back to it (hehe Negan reference) but Javier is rough, doggy and cowgirl are his favourite positions, but sometimes when he’s feeling a little somber he likes a little missionary. As how domestically-kinky I like my men, I’m a little disappointed that Javier isn’t a committed man, but he does have a tiny 🤏 breeding kink, he defo isn’t a fan of being called daddy, in fact just call him Javi and he’s yours, and he’s dom obviously. “Oh carino, you take my cock so well, you good little whore… fuck… my sweet little angel.” I mean, we’ve all seen his hair, so do we really need address it, that also might genuinely be my fav sex scene in all of cinema history.

Oberyn Martell

Okay, admittedly, I haven’t seen any proper scenes of Oberyn, because I’ve just started GOT, so I have no clue what his character is like apart from being a HUGE BISEXUAL SLUT, so he’s just like me 🤭

Oberyn, tying with Javier, is about 7-7.5 inches, and I feel like his cock is definitely a lot more tan than others, idk why, it’s just an instinct. Defo uncircumcised. His fav positions are definitely cowgirl OH and dude is the literal definition of a pillow prince, again, just like me. Suck his dick, please, just suck his dick. Again, I don’t know how he’s presented in GOT, but I’m like 74% sure he’s dominant? From the clips I’ve seen 🫣 Hair wise, do razors exists in the GOT world? Or does my man just shave himself with a sword.

Javi Gutierrez:

Oh my sweet baby Javi… he’s so kinky. I’m fully convinced he’s into full BDSM, not so much where he has to do it every single time, but maybe like once a month. When I was watching TUWOMT for the first time, when Nick is about to go into the room with all his merch and stuff, I was dead convinced it was gonna be a sex dungeon. There’s no way a man is this sweet and adorable without being into some freaky shit.

Anyway, Javi is about 6.5 inches, with a sweet pink tip and he’s definitely a giver not a taker, don’t get him wrong, he ADORES you with his dick in your mouth, but he prefers to eat you out/suck your dick for hours on end. Oh and he’s a sweet talker, when you guys aren’t being full kinky, he’ll praise you to hours on end, mumbling in your ear how good you are in that sexy accent of his. Is a little bit of a switch, but mostly dominant, soft dom if it’s a normal night but if it’s that special night, only your safe word will pull him out of hard dom space. Definitely the type to overstimulate you in a sweet way “you can take it right sweetheart? Mi amor~ just take my cock nice and good, ahí tienes.” Um, daddy kink for surely, but not like every single night like Joel. But when he’s between your legs, and he’s stimulated you so far into sub space, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, and you’re reaching up for him, babbling how good his cock feels in your hole, he can’t help but coo down at you and praise you so hard. He’s not bald, but his hair isn’t long, just trimmed to the point where it tickles your nose when you suck his cock.

Din Djarin

Okay, so I think it’s canon that Din hasn’t really ever felt human touch, so I feel he’s really inexperienced… but the dude’s got a pretty dick. Like it’s just so… pretty. About 6 inches with a sweet baby pink tip, he’s so sensitive too. He loves head but he really can’t say it, he’s just too embarrassed. I just get the vibe that he’s mostly subby. He tried to be dom once but the poor baby couldn’t handle it all. But then he tried again and he did so good, but it tired him out, so if he’s domming, which is once in a blue moon, he’s going to be soft, maybe even softer than Javi. Mommy/Daddy kink!! “Please, I’m good right? Please, please tell me I’m doing good… you always feel so so good, I love you so much.” Please, he’s so sweet I love him. It’s rare that you guys get off together because of reasons due to his upbringing and stuff so he just likes being taken care of, the sweet boy. Before you, he never really cared for shaving, so when you first strip together, he’s a little nervous about it, and then after that he trims it, quite short.

Marcus Moreno

If anyone says this man is a hard dom they’re just kidding themselves, this man is the sweetest man out there, obviously not as much as Din ofc <3.

Marcus has an obsession with using his hands, making you cum just by fingering you. Then when he’s inside you, he slips his fingers into your mouth, or around your neck, or on your cheek. His dick is about 7 inches, and like everyone else, knows how to use it perfectly. Angel is one of his favourite nicknames to call you. “My perfect Angel, taking my cock so good baby…” whilst hes thrusting into you ever so gently. Would never EVER do it when Missy is around, so quickies before picking Missy up from school are his go to, but he loves the days where his mom can take her out for the day or even a grandma sleepover so he can be with you for hours. You under him, over him, him inside you, his good girl/boy, his good angel. Pleasuring you until you get numb. The armpit hair in the scene of the gif gets me and idk why, I have never had a thing for armpit hair but maybe I’m just really horny, but his hair down there is nice and trimmed, not bald, never bald.

Tim Rock(Hard)Ford

Here we go…

Oh Tim man! I have a teensy 🤏 detective kink so when Pedro played this role it was over for me.

Maybe it’s the greying, like Joel, but I feel like he’s huge, just like Joel. He’s 8 inches, living his best life. But he’s just a tired old man, so when he gets home, please just get on your knees for him, he’ll just lay there, stroking your hair, praising you, telling you how good you suck his cock. Then he’ll bring you up to the bed and return the favour, making sure to always get you to tell him about your day as he does so. Saturday nights are always his favourite time to rail into you, he’s had the whole day off, just resting, watching you walk around, getting him so worked up. He has a domestic kink. So seeing you do chores get him so hard. Loves fucking between your thighs when you’re sleeping because he gets home so late and just needs a little relief, but you look so cute and peaceful while you sleep and because he’s so considerate, he doesn’t wanna wake you. “So good for me baby, so good for daddy, gonna fill you up, you’re not gonna let any of my cum slip out right, gonna keep it all in your tummy, yeah, that’s it, cum for me.” TALKS YOU THROUGH IT!!! Sleeps naked. Not trimmed, not shaved, just grows it out, he’s old so he doesn’t care, it’s not like anyone but you would be seeing him like this anyways.

Dieter Bravo

I love Dieter, he’s so cute.

Not dom, but not sub either, just dom enough to see you break under him but sub enough to whimper and get soooo desperate. Such a huge pillow prince, he loves it when you suck him, especially when you grab his balls and caress them, he cums so quick when that happens. He’s about 6.5 inches, and it loves fast, not as in quickie, but he loves seeing you fall apart as he jackhammers into your hole. When you ride him he gets so sweet, and he can last long, don’t worry, but you just look so pretty on top of him, he can’t help it, please don’t be mad at him. Has a thing for dry humping, especially in the morning when he’s too lazy to move properly. “So good baby, oh yeah, fuck, grind against me just like that, mmmf fuck…” loves to beg and watch you beg, he’s so good to and for you, don’t doubt him ever. He doesn’t shave, he trims it, but he’s so goofy, so once he shaved it into a heart.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javi gutierrez #oberyn martell #din djarin #marcus moreno #tim rockford #dieter bravo #slvtforoldermen

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ruskaroma · 1 year

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Absolutely fucking adore the idea of Constantine having a very talkative and energetic little human around that he calls “bunny” and treats you like one, treats you like a pet.

You really think that you’re Constantine’s sidekick because you follow him around everywhere he goes and you’re basically living in his apartment because you just – never – fucking – leave. No matter what Constantine does, no matter how mean he treats you, you just can’t bring yourself to hate him because he just might be the only light you have in your life – which is a weird thing to say considering Constantine probably possesses the most darkest mind in the world and you haven’t even seen half of it.

When he’s in a good mood, he’d treat you out for a dinner and actually conversates with you like a normal human being (even though nothing about him – or you – is normal) and tell demon and angel stories you’d always find yourself drawn into, chin on your palm, wide doe eyes while listening to his deep voice talk.

Most of the time you’d get very excited about something and very eager to learn that you’re practically vibrating in your seat. It’s such a normal occurrence to Constantine that he knows how to deal with you when you’re in that state of mind.

“Wait so – if demons and angels exist, is there a possibility that vampires are also true? Are they real? Please, tell me they’re real – I mean, have you ever met one before, John? God, that would be so freaking cool. I always wanted to be a vampire –”

Constantine lets you talk. Even though he wouldn’t quite grasp the other words that you’re saying because he really feels like you’re rapping instead of talking. Not to mention the hand movements you’d do while you spew random little facts out of nowhere, or when you’d remember a memory from childhood that you’ll end up telling him; Constantine really does find you quite adorable.

And you’re a bit energetic too. Well, a bit wouldn’t really cover it. You’re full blown energetic who sometimes acts like you drank five cans of caffeine the moment you open your eyes, but Constantine knows all your energy is natural and comes from your heart.

You wouldn’t be able to sit down next to him at a diner without your hands fiddling with something or when you just really… couldn’t keep your mouth shut. It’s a hard thing to do, really.

Then there’s Constantine, who likes to take advantage of your behavior by saying something really perverted and inappropriate.

“Hey, bunny.”

“What?”

“Would my cock be enough to get you to stop talking?”

“Good one. But that would only make it a lot worse.”

“I know. I’ve heard it,” he’d snicker, then would press a kiss on your cheeks that would make you flutter and scoff in annoyance. He always smelled like cigarettes and something minty. “I’m joking, bun.”

“Yeah, it would be a joke if it wasn’t true,” you rolled your eyes. “You’ve witnessed my mouth doing a lot more work than usual when I’m sucking your dick.”

“Well, you should be proud of yourself, bun. Looks like your mouth got more talent other than talking.”

“Haha, very funny.”

His comments like that don’t really offend you or anything because you know he’s joking. You know he secretly loves your rambles despite being mean about it, because that’s just how he is.

But during sex, it’s a whole different story.

Constantine has a habit of making you cry on the bed by making your rambles even worse. He knows that you ramble when you’re either feeling flustered, nervous, or horny, and most of the time you get all those feelings at once when you’re in front of his cock, which means a sudden flip of the switch inside your brain just goes off and you start saying these deliciously filthy words that never fails to make Constantine hard.

“What’s that, little bun? I didn’t hear you,” Constantine smirked, voice teasing as his hand gripped the base of his thick cock, smearing the dripping tip all over your lips as you struggled to catch your breath after he fucked your throat. “Where did my little talkative bunny go, hm? Why is she not talking?”

“J–John–”

“Oh? What’s that? Is the little bunny speaking?” Constantine mocked, pulled his dick away from your mouth as he gripped your chin with one hand. “If my bunny wants my attention, that’s not the right name she should be addressing me, yeah? Already forgot our rules around here, bun? I let you get a taste of my cock and you’re already defying me?”

“No–no, no, d-daddy, that’s not–that’s not what I mean,” you sniffled, your eyes getting teary from your kneeling position as well as when you heard Constantine’s mocking voice above you. “Daddy, please–just want–just want your cock in my pussy again, p-please–”

“Oh, you do? Poor little bunny is so wet and horny now, hm? My little bunny is feeling so empty?”

“Y-yes, daddy, I–I feel so empty–”

“Look at you crying. You look so pathetic,” he grinned, grabbing you by the hair and throwing you on the bed. You were already naked, already covered in bruises from the makeout session earlier and the handprint on your ass was starting to become more evident and red as minutes went by. “Where does my bunny want daddy’s cock, huh? Where do you want it, bun, tell me.”

“I–In my–In my pussy, daddy, want it in my–my cunny–” you sniffled again, pawing at his shoulders as your tears were starting to blur your vision. “Daddy, please–please, I want you so bad–miss your cock so much, feel so empty and wet and I just wanna–”

“Shhh, bun, I know. I know what you want,” he petted your hair with one hand while his other was guiding his cock in your cunt, the fat tip circling teasingly on your already puffy pussy lips and not quite going in. “Wish I could record you like this and make you watch it after. Fucking show you how filthy you are while begging for my cock. All the dirty shit you say when you’re so desperate for me.”

You keened, nodding absentmindedly even though you didn’t understand a single word he said. Your mind was only focusing on the delicious feeling of his cock rubbing against your sloppy cunt.

“Yes–yes, please, daddy, d-do what you want–do want you want, I’m yours–bunny is all yours–”

“That’s right. That’s my little bunny, knowing her place and where she rightfully belongs,” Constantine grinned, and it was only then he slammed his cock all the way inside you, stretching your walls wide as you bite onto his shoulders to keep yourself from waking up the entire building. “I would choose this tight little pussy over entering the fucking gates of heaven.”

#john constantine #john constantine x reader #john constantine x you #john constantine x y/n #john constantine imagine #john constantine smut #john constantine fanfic #john constantine fanfiction #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves smut #keanu reeves imagine #my works #constantine

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lueurjun · 1 year

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ੰ first kiss with enha | ꒰ heeseung , jay ꒱

enhypen reaction—there comes a time in a lot of relationships where the next step is taken, and here’s how the nerve-racking first kiss experience went for you and your mans.

version two: jake and sunghoon.

. . . . . . . ꒰ HEESEUNG ꒱ ,,

he’s a feral boy

we’ve all seen that man flirt and hip thrust HE IS FERAL

so naturally you’d assume he’d be laid back and confident about the whole thing

but when it comes to you, he’s a pile of blushy mush that just cannot comprehend the fact that he’s even managed to bag you

in his eyes, you’re out of his league

bc you’re a gorgeous gemstone! have faith in yourself bby ur wonderful

and without realizing, you actually intimidate him a little

bc ur just so goddamn perfect

an angel if you will

so the idea of kissing you just seems… scary

because what if he doesn’t live up to your expectations and you decide to leave him?

he is terrified of disappointing you so it actually takes him a while to gain the courage

which panics you because why in the world is this man not givin u a big ol’ smooch?

does he not want to kiss you?

omg does he think your breath stinks and is revolted by you?

you’re both massively overthinking it

lil silly billys

and none of you want to bring it up because how do you approach that conversation?

like you can’t just ask him ‘oh yeah, hee, how come you don’t want to kiss me? are my lips crusty? does the idea of locking lips physically repulse you?’

anyways you’re a couple months in

and things are getting serious so he can’t be that sickened by you

and you haven’t run for the hills yet so you clearly don’t want anyone else

finally. he’s had enough

this man is tired of staring at your lips imagining them on his own

HE IS YOUR MANS HE DESERVES SOME SUGAR

to be honest at this point you’ve given up hope on him kissing you, and you’re much too nervous to make the first move

so you just kinda go with the flow

which naturally means that the last thing you were expecting when sliding your cute lil self into his car

was for him to lean over, cup your face and plant one tasty smooch on those lips of yours

you literally froze for like two seconds but once realisation settled in, you kissed that man back in milliseconds

heaven. cloud nine. neither of you wanted to pull away

unfortunately, you had no other choice

so taken aback by the sudden kiss the only thing you could think to do was share a giggle before you held up a bag full of treats for your date

gosh ur both so awkwardly adorable i can’t

“i got us snacks for the car ride! but you taste better.”

you’re so cute stop the little blush on your face after saying the cutest yet lamest thing ever

heeseung cannot resist tugging you back in for another little lip tasting sesh after that because you are the cutest thing to ever exist

he is an absolute simp for you AS HE SHOULD BE

. . . . . . . ꒰ JAY ꒱ ,,

despite being the perfect man material, he isn’t the most experienced when it comes to relationships

like he’s had a partner before, but it was never serious so the milestones just weren’t that important to him

but it’s different with you

don’t roll your eyes at me

idc if that’s cliché okay. it’s jay. you allow it. lose the ‘tude baby cakes i know you rolled your eyes

anyways:)

everything that didn’t seem so important in his last relationship suddenly seemed a thousand times more nerve wracking this time

because losing you is on the line and jay knows that he doesn’t ever want that to happen

suddenly he wants everything to be perfect because you deserve the world and nothing less

hahahahasleepingontheroadtonight

jay absolutely refuses to give you a shitty first kiss

it has to be romantic. and it has to be amazing and if you don’t like it then he will slide down the wall

clutching honey to his chest

sobbing

same tho that’s a mood

anyways yeah he wants to make sure that you get the most romantic kiss ever

meanwhile you’re not too fussed because it’s jay and no matter what, kissing him would be a dream

unless he’s like a really bad kisser but he’s perfect so he’s not

he’s taking his time to prepare everything

like he plans a candle lit dinner, rose petals, the finest food

the whole shebang

lemme be you for one day i beg

but two days before the dinner is set to take place

YES HE HAS A FULL SCHEDULE

the two of you are hanging out like normal and the vibes are immaculate

and you both want to kiss each other

the timing just seems right

but jay, the little dum dum, is fighting with himself

because does he really want all of his hardwork to go to waste?

you’re both leaning in but smoke is practically pumping from his head due to how fast his mind is racing

seconds away from those luscious lips

HE PULLS AWAY

absolute dummy

you’re hurt and embarrassed obviously

bc you just got flat out rejected and that’s just horrifying but it’s fine it happens to us all babe

and jay is panicking because well… you look like you’re going to start sobbing

“is there something wrong with me?”

the crack in your voice. the pain in your eyes. THE QUESTION ALONE

oh dear jay feels like he’s going to throw up

this is NOT how he wanted any of this to go

you start packing up your things to leave which is fair because you’re embarrassed

and jay is trying to figure out what to say or do

and then he just decides to be honest because honesty is the best policy

so you’re about to step out of the door when he gently grabs your arm

“look i’m sorry. i really really really wanted to kiss you… it’s just… i have been planning a perfect dinner for weeks so it would be perfect. i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, i just wanted it to be perfect for you.”

i’d fold honestly

i have no shame

and neither do you apparently because you can’t help but crack a perfect little smile

“so do i have to wait for this dinner or can i kiss you now?”

BOLD

you’re an icon

jay just kinda smiles sheepishly

and then he caresses your neck and tugs you into one of the softest, most amazing kisses you have ever had

firework inducing even, toe curling, heart thumping-

sorry i’ll stop

the point is, the kiss is AMAZING

maybe you didn’t need a fancy candlelit dinner to make it perfect after all

perhaps, all you needed was each other

i’m legit sobbing someone pls send help

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wilwheaton · 2 years

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the scorpion doesn’t care who it stings

I posted this on my Facebook four days ago, and it seems to have taken on a life of its own for a minute.

I thought I’d repost it, here:

I can not fathom the emptiness, the insecurity, the insatiable need for attention and validation, the staggering arrogance, the malevolence and total void of human experience that is Elon Musk.

He's the richest man on the planet. You can't go anywhere or do anything without interacting with something he's part of in some way. There are literal millions of people who uncritically worship him, in spite of overwhelming evidence that he's a douchebag. Some number of them will come after me, as they come after anyone who points at their naked emperor. They'll spend entire days going after me and people like me, slavishly serving a man who does not even know they exist. They are his army of fools, uncritically serving his every whim. And it still isn't enough.

He can have any material thing he wants, and he will *never* be happy or satisfied. He has no real friends. Every single person around him is either a viper, a parasite, or both.

So what does he do? He bullies and threatens and harasses and trolls and behaves like the weak, scared, insecure child he has always been. That's a tragedy for him, but it's dangerous for us. He doesn't care what he destroys or who he hurts as he chases this existential thing he cannot ever have.

You know the saying "hurt people hurt people"? He's a hurt person who is hurting our society, making people I care about less safe. The consequences of this one man's midlife crisis are global, and that terrifies me.

In a comment, about an hour later, I added:

You know what's really interesting is the tiny number of people who are attacking and harassing me are either typical right wing idiots who all spew the same garbage from behind their wraparound sunglasses, or these weird nerds who are DESPERATE to justify how toxic and cruel and destructive Elon Musk is. Like, nerds, listen to Old Man Wheaton, please.

Don't hitch your wagon to Elon Musk. There are countless people who are amazing and genuinely good, who do all the things we wish we could do. Stop defending this piece of shit who would push you into a volcano without even learning your name, if it would save him half a second on his way to his next shitpost on $8Chan (formerly known as Twitter).He doesn't stand up to anyone. He doesn't stand up FOR anyone. He is not your champion. He's angry and chaotic and destructive, and you have to understand that the scorpion doesn't care who it stings.

Finally, I want to add two things: 1) It’s interesting to me that a lot of the people who came to my post to be dicks used a lot of MAGA language. It reminds me of this thing my friend says about concerts: the audience looks like the band. Of course there’s substantial overlap between the angry, hateful, terrified, cowards who support Trump and the same who Stan Elon Musk, and it’s real interesting to see it in action.

2) I haven’t used Twitter for years. I quit before it was popular (lol) because it was better for my mental health. I logged in once when my book was published, and I deleted all my tweets when he announced he was buying Twitter. When he took over and immediately amplified a conspiracy theorist, I made my account private. In a perfect world, I would delete my account entirely. But I have to keep it for reasons I hope I don’t have to explain. After I posted this on Facebook, it made its way around Twitter (still is, four days later, which is ... a thing that is happening) and when people went to look at my account, they saw that it was closed. As much of a fucking manbaby Elon Musk clearly is, he didn’t do anything to my account. In fact, the only reason he even knows I exist (if he does) is through a vanity search of his name. I locked my account on my own, and so should you.

I am only on:

Tumblr

Facebook (itswilwheaton)

Instagram (itswilwheaton)

and my blog that I’ve been neglecting for too long at wilwheaton.net.

I’ve had a Reddit account since 2006, predating user-created subs! I’m u/wil there.

Okay that’s all. Thanks for listening. Please choose to be kind.

#fuck elon musk

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not-a-snowman · 10 months

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It’s probably an indicator of my mental state how much I freaked out over learning Trevor’s middle name in my rewatch of American Arcadia. Though it’s not so much the actual name itself (Clarence) and more like Trevor’s comment on it

“Like the angel from Its a Wonderful Life”

For those of you who somehow haven’t seen it, It’s a Wonderful Life is a Christmas movie about a man who fails to achieve his lifelong dream and decides that the world is better off without him living in it, only for an angel to save him by showing him all the ways in which he improved the world around him and all the people whose lives he’s touched

It’s a movie about a lot of things, but one of those things is that you don’t have to be rich or successful to justify your existence. The average person leaves a beautiful mark in the world simply by choosing to keep going and choosing to be kind.

In American Arcadia and in the eyes of Walton Media, there is nothing worse than an average person. Because average people are boring and no one gives a shit about them unless some piece of them can be used and monetized.

Success and exceptionalism is everything to them.

And Trevor is the epitome of average and boring and worthless to them

But he also plays piano and writes his own music. He had a pet turtle that he won’t shut up about. He’s held the top score on a public arcade game for years. He’s clever and steadfast and remains kind even when the world turns against him. He is wholly and unapologetically himself, and he’s never needed success or a spotlight to find joy in his pursuits.

And his middle name is Clarence, like the angel from Its a Wonderful Life

#American Arcadia #Trevor hills

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geekishfangirl · 4 months

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Seen so many Peter Parker in Gotham fics, and while I love them, I would love to see a Batfam in Marvel fics. Especially with the Richard Grayson is Richard Parker idea!

I like to imagine they somehow end up in Peter’s New York (idk how, haven’t thought about it that much) and in their attempts to find a way back to their home universe end up catching the attention of either SHIELD, the Avengers, or just Tony. They are confronted by whoever catches them and, maybe under duress or the idea that they don’t have the resources to get home alone, explain their situation. It all leads to them staying with Tony while they’re there and it all comes to a head when they meet Peter. Because that looks just like Dick! They start trying to spend more time with him to figure out if it’s just a crazy coincidence or not, and eventually realize this is the alternate universe version of Dick’s son!

I love this idea because it makes me wonder about so many things and I feel like it has a lot of possibilities. Like, the batfam is extremely cagey about who they trust, why and how do they end up telling the truth about what happened to them? If we’re talking the MCU (I honestly just like to pick things I like from each universe and make my own but whatever works lmao) Do they end up meeting the Avenger’s pre-Civil War or after? And if after, what would their thoughts on the Accords be?

How would they react to Peter’s story? He barely remembers his father, if he does at all. How would Dick react to the idea of his son growing up without him? To never meeting Bruce and his siblings (if they even exist in Peter’s world) and instead getting adopted by another family? There was never any Robin or Nightwing. He is DEAD in this universe and is watching his adult or near adult orphaned son look to a billionaire superhero as his father figure, just like he had! it would be interesting to highlight both the similarities and differences in the relationship of Tony and Peter to that of Dick and Bruce.

How would they react to Spider-Man and the snap?!

I need someone to write this honestly, there’s so much potential here, I can feel it in my bones.

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inbarfink · 1 year

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Okay, so here is my Thought…

It’s already being established that the majority of worlds in the AT Multiverse are born from wishes granted by Prismo. I mean, we know there are other types of alternative universes (Like Flapjack’s universe) - but Prismo’s exposition implies they are the exceptions and not the rule. And we already know the Wish that birthed Farmworld, and we even got a Word of God about Babyworld (a Wish made by BMO) but…

Was Winterworld also born from someone’s wish?

While first watching the episode, I was wondering if that was a universe born from Ice King’s wish to, like, make Princess Bubblegum madly in love with him or something. But after all of the reveals at the end of the episode and thinking about it a bit more - I feel like this is unlikely.

I mean for once, there is the question of how the ‘One Wish Per Person' rule works with the existence of a multiverse. Because we know our Simon also tried using his Prismo Wish

(And from their interactions in Episode 4 it seems like Prismo considers Ice King and Simon to be the same person, So a Wish made by Ice King would also count as the one Wish for Simon)

So like… if Ice King made a Wish with Prismo and then got teleported into Winterworld where his wish was granted and then like… a duplicate of him keeps going in Mainworld Ooo and that one’s actually the Simon we follow… would that Simon get his own Wish from Prismo? Or would the Winter King count as the separate Simon who didn’t waste his Wish yet? Finn has already used up his own Wish but his situation is kinda unique cause he, like, came back from being Farmworld Finn. I’m not sure about the rules here but I’m feeling like it shouldn’t work, Simon used up his one Wish failing to bring Betty back so that means he probably didn’t wish up Winterworld.

I don’t feel super-confident about that, but I feel a bit more sure of this next observation; Prismo says that the Wishes he grants, whatever he wants them to or not, always have some sort of a Monkey’s Paw or ironic twist thing going on. They never go quite right for the Wisher. And the Winter King was doing extremely well until our Free Radicals came along.

I mean… maybe the fact that Pre-Curse Simon would’ve been disgusted with the Winter King’s actions counts. Or maybe the implication is that with the Candy Queen’s recent ‘escalation’ he would’ve been killed sooner or later even without the Multiverse Trio’s intervention.

But… compared to how throughly and how quickly Farmworld went badly for Finn specifically- that honestly feels like a stretch. I think that if Winterworld was born from the Wish of any character - it was most likely Marceline.

She has all the motivation to Wish for Simon to have his memories and/or sanity back - and had it for the longest time out of all of his acquaintances. And if it was her Wish - then it sure as hell has gone extremely wrong for her.

The woman that she loves has been doomed to the same torturous existence Simon has been trapped in alongside her entire kingdom. And Simon might have his sanity and identity again, but this vile man who willingly and knowingly condemned PB to a life of suffering in his stead is so much farther away from the kindly father figure Marceline remembers than Ice King the crazy old Wizard ever was.

And then he also stole Marceline's most beloved personal possessions and like… probably killed her and definitely replaced her with an icy duplicate who is forever the child he wants her to be. If this Wish is some sort of Ironic Monkey's Paw to anyone, I think Marceline makes the most sense.

(I will give an honorable mention to Betty, because she also very much has the motivation and it is kinda weird we haven’t seen her try and save Simon with a Prismo wish. But I think that while, like, dying in the Mushroom War unmourned and unremembered by the man you did all of this for is a pretty miserable fate.... I still think that Marceline’s narrative fits the idea of cruel irony a lot better)

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netherfeildren · 1 year

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Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .1

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Summary: What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the love of your life?

-OR-

A Joel infidelity AU

Content Warnings: Discussions of alcoholism and parent death.

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Hi, everyone. Welcome to the new story.

Disclaimer to begin with. Joel is married in this, but it is, and always has been, a marriage of convenience. There has never been any sort of emotional or physical intimacy between him and his wife apart from when Sarah was conceived.

Like always, I promise there will be a happy ending, and that there will be lots of other fun :) stuff to make up for the occasional tears.

I appreciate you all so much. Happy (lol I guess) reading. xx

Art is The pain that keeps on giving, Noelia Towers, (2018-2019). Title of the story comes from this film.

Word Count: 6.8K

Read on AO3

Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

The first time you’d fucked, it was like you’d never been touched by a man before. The first time he’d looked at you, like you’d never been seen, in the entirety of your existence, prior to that moment. Every other time after that, every touch, every look, was the same – a rebirth of sorts. And a devastation. Something not to be understood or conceptualized, only experienced.

Taking that into account, it’s no surprise that things unfolded as they did – ended as they did.

“Please, please, come with us,” Gerri drags the vowels out and hits you with the puppy dog eyes. You shake your head at her, smiling, packing up your supplies from tonight’s lesson. “It’s going to be so fun, I promise. Tommy’s sister-in-law hates my guts, I know, what-fucking-ever, but my sister and her girlfriend will be there, and my best friend’s planning on coming too. And there’s an extra bedroom, it’ll be perfect, I swear.”

“Yeah, I remember the sister-in-law from Easter.” Of course you remember her from that day. Gerri had invited you to their family barbecue, and the woman had pitched a fit that Tommy’s girlfriend, somehow posed as an insult, had dared invite someone without asking her permission first. It was also the first time you’d met him. And he was, by far and large, the reason you’d stayed away and evaded all subsequent invitations since then. Even if his wife had unapologetically said to your face that she found it crazy that people still party crashed, no matter that that hadn’t been what you’d meant to do, hadn’t known you were party crashing. She’d also thrown away the bunny cake you’d stayed up the entire night before making. No gluten in the house or something, even though the hamburger and hot dog buns had all been regular.

“Oh my fucking God, Easter. Don’t even remind me. I know, I know.” She gives you a pointed look and you huff a laugh at her. “But that was months ago. Her and Joel were on the outs then, or… had just gotten back together… I can’t ever keep up. And well… they’re still on the outs now–” She scrunches up her face into the cutest little frown. You love Gerri so much. From the first moment she’d shown up for your Tuesday night ceramics class at the community college, she’d immediately decided that not only were you going to propel her into the upper echelons of the great sculptors of the world, the greater Austin area – her words, not yours, but she’d also immediately decided that you were going to be friends, and no, you did not have a choice in the matter.

“But they’re always on the outs. And things haven’t been as bad recently – according to Tommy. But honestly the fuck does he know about all that anyways. My poor baby is so clueless – but still, please, please please,” she begs, pouts your name over and over again. “Please, come with us?” She brings her clasped hands up under her chin in a pleading gesture, hits you with the puppy dog eyes again.

You were so grateful for her. Despite your recalcitrance, it’d always been hard for you to make friends. A byproduct of who your mother was, being an only child, a largely solitary upbringing, et cetera, et cetera. You’d needed Gerri’s tenacious spark and kindness to pull you out of your shell. She wanted you to join her, her boyfriend Tommy, and their friends and family at a house they’d rented on Lake Austin for the weekend as a sort of end of summer farewell. And you did – you wanted to go, bunny cake murdering sister-in-law and all, but there was the issue of him.

You were… there was not a single phrase for what it was your mind turned into when that man and his name and his face invaded your psyche. So you’d done your best to avoid him in your mind and in real life, at all costs. He was – he was not something you were capable of considering.

“I’m not sure if I can, Ger–” you say slowly, wracking your brain for an excuse. “There was– one of the other teachers at the elementary school–” Your day job, when you weren’t teaching night class ceramics, was as an elementary school art teacher, “Asked if I’d cover for them on Friday – summer school.” Stupid excuse, you roll your eyes at yourself.

“Oh, shut up. The summer camp classes end early – you told me that last time! You could drive up after.” She sidles up to you now, rests her curly haired head on your shoulder. “Please, you’ve said no to everything I’ve invited you to since Easter. You aren’t avoiding me because of the shitshow that was, are you?”

“No, of course not.” Yes, yes you were. Just not for the reason she thought. “I would just hate to impose–”

“You wouldn’t! I swear you wouldn’t be!”

“You all already have your plan, and I–”

“No! No. My sister’s the one renting the house, and she said I could invite whoever I wanted. So, no one can say anything,” she sticks her tongue out, rolling her eyes. “And Joel said I should invite you too. I’m pretty sure he still feels badly about last time also.” Fucking hell, you did not want him feeling bad for you. At all. Ever. You did not want him ever thinking about you ever, ever, ever.

You stand over the kitchen trash bin, staring at your destroyed cake. Your grandmother used to make it every Easter. Four separate cake loaves all cut into the shapes for a face, two big pointy ears, and a cute little bow tie, with a pineapple filling, and all covered in little flakes of coconut and your homemade vanilla frosting. You used jelly beans to make the eyes and nose and dark frosting out of a piping bag for the whiskers and mouth. It was your favorite cake, one of your favorite memories, one of the only good ones.

“Fucking Christ, she did not throw it away. Please, don’t tell me that’s the cake you brought.” Large hand gently placed between the wings of your shoulder blades to peer around you, not touching, but still there, still very close, and yes, that’s it, you’ve gotta get the fuck out of there now, away from this man.

“Oh, no. It’s okay – I– I mean– I should’ve asked before. I didn’t know you all were gluten free. I should’ve asked…”

“What? Glu–” he frowns. You knew his wife, Eva, had made that up. You step away from him, from his large warm palm that feels like it’s burning through your clothes and skin. He was really, really and truly the most unfairly gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He fucking terrified you. “Oh, yeah. The gluten.” He went along with the lie, passing the offending palm over his mouth, the wiry scruff of his beard rasping softly against what you imagined to be work roughened skin. He’d said he was a contractor.

Gerri had invited you to her boyfriend's brother’s house for the Easter holiday. It was the first invitation to something you’d gotten since you’d moved to Austin six months ago, and you’d been so, so happy that she’d asked, had felt so sad you’d not have anyone to share your cake with. You’d planned to take it to work with you to leave in the teacher’s lounge for everyone to share. The thought had made the back of your eyes pinch, for some reason.

“It’s alright. I actually need to head out. Could you let Gerri know? I– I’m–” you couldn’t think of a lie, and he was staring at you like he knew you had no real excuse – like he knew you were uncomfortable and out of place and were just looking for an excuse to leave. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks.

“Don’t go, please. Stay for a while longer. I’m – fuck– I apologize about the cake–”

“No, no– really it’s–” you held out a staying hand, but he’d cut off your false appeasement.

“Please, stay.” He’d taken a step forward, closer to your retreating form, and you’d felt almost faint, dizzy at the image of him stepping closer to you. He was so tall, huge really, broad chest, thick arms, dark, lush curls and a scruffy jaw, a peek of chest hair covering the tantalizing golden skin at the opened button of his shirt. Sexy, deep Southern twang. The loveliest, warmest eyes you think you’d ever probably seen. You were going to try and mix the exact color of them when you got home, even though you knew you shouldn’t. You hadn’t been interested in a man in months, maybe longer, couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a crush, an anything on anyone, and now this man. Suddenly, blindingly, out of fucking nowhere – so damn attractive. Your eyes had fluttered shut for a second and you’d swallowed, trying to regain your balance – you’d known him for all of two hours and he already made you feel unbalanced. You needed to leave.

“Really, Joel,” his name on your tongue almost had a taste, “It’s okay.”

“He– He did?” you stutter. “He shouldn’t feel bad – he has nothing to feel bad about, it was nothing.” Lie – lie, lie, lie. Meeting him that day had been – it had been everything. You’d thought about it, him, for months afterwards. The sight of him with his three year old daughter, Sarah, the sweetest little thing you’d ever seen. Helping her hunt for the Easter eggs he’d hidden around their backyard, letting her crack the bright confetti filled shells over his head. His excitement for her when she’d finally found the basket he’d made up for her. He was a good father.

“Yeah, and Tommy said he’d like to see you again too. And I told my sister about you, and she thinks all my pottery’s fucking amazing, by the way, and she wants to meet you too, and she’s even thinking of enrolling in the class next semester so really, really you’re obligated to come.” Fucking menace – she smiles sweetly.

“Oh, fine. Fine, fine. I’ll come.” You’re putting away the last of your tools. “I’ll drive up Friday afternoon when I’m done at the school.”

Immediate hopping squeals, and this is why you love her. She’s so happy, so open and silly, friendly and funny. All the things opposite to your restrained quiet, shy to the point of aggravation, sometimes. You didn’t want your constant refusals to alienate her. You could see him again, it would be fine. You’d met him once for Christ’s sake. It meant nothing. It had probably been nothing that day, heat exhaustion or a stomach ache or something. Nothing to fawn and stress over. You’d just be polite, cordial, keep your distance – especially from his wife. You did not, did not want to provoke her greater dislike. You’d keep your unwanted baking to yourself this time. It would all be fine. You wanted these people to like you, if you were being honest. A little desperately. Gerri and Tommy, her sister you hadn’t yet met – you wanted to be part of their group, one of their friends. They were all so kind, welcoming and fun, you couldn’t ruin this for yourself.

Gerri had spilled the beans on the marriage over one afternoon of too many Mexican martini’s, an Austin specialty, and chips and salsa. They’d gotten married three years ago after Eva had gotten unexpectedly pregnant. Joel was traditional, he’d asked and eventually she’d agreed. They were both older than you, he’d just turned forty recently, and you guessed it’d made sense for them, at the time, but she’d left them soon after Sarah had been born. The marriage, the baby, hadn’t been in her plans, too much for her, Gerri said. They’d been separated for about a year and a half until she’d come back. They seemed to be trying to work it out now. Gerri claimed they were both miserable. You’d only met them the once – well, you’d seen Joel a few weeks ago, from a distance, when Tommy’d come to drop something off for Gerri before class, sitting in their truck. You don’t think he’d seen you – but you thought that their misery was very obviously apparent in that way that was easily recognizable to someone who, at one point, had existed in a house made only of misery. It breaks your heart for them all, in different ways, to recognize that singular brand of dissatisfaction that comes with living in a home where no happiness resided with you.

But the reality of his marriage made you all the more terrified of him. To ever see him again. You wanted no part of that. Didn’t even want to exist in the same vicinity as someone who was experiencing something of that nature. You’d had enough of unhappy marriages and painful households in your own childhood. You never wanted to deal with that again.

You’d read once that infidelity was a hereditary trait. Studies had shown that if you’d had a parent or even a sibling, someone in your household during your development, who’d been unfaithful, you were then more likely to also be unfaithful yourself. Something about that sort of childhood trauma inciting a propensity in the offspring to find it difficult to later on trust romantic partners, to incite trust themselves. Trust issues, emotional unavailability, baggage, blah, blah. Sometimes nature versus nurture was a real bitch, in your opinion.

But as much as you wanted to call bullshit, the thought, the possibility of that being true, filled you with such an intense fear — debilitating, paralyzing, life altering. You found yourself with an immense inability to trust yourself, more than anything. Your greatest fear, the thing that scared you the most in all the world, was that you would be the perpetrator, that you would be the one to commit that sin. That you’d lose control, self awareness, morality, yourself. It wasn’t something your mind could even come to terms with, the possibility of hurting another person that way, betraying them in that manner. It seemed like the worst possible thing in the entire world that you could ever do to someone. After all, you’d watched your mother do it to your father, over and over again, your entire life, up until the point that she’d up and left the both of you. For many years, after her fateful abandoning, you’d watched him drink himself into a stupor and then into a grave. Years of waiting for her to come back, in love with a ghost or a figment of his imagination, for the woman he’d made her out to be, within the ever forgiving and naive confines of his love, had never existed. Something you could see, even through the lenses of your child eyes.

She was an eternally flawed woman. Selfish, vain, manipulative, deceitful, but there was good in her too. She was eccentric and beautiful, and she could be kind, so funny, and immensely intelligent, her mind and wit, always sharp as a whip. It was, you thought, what made her so talented at deceiving others, at getting her way. She outsmarted everyone she came into contact with. But she was also weak and self serving, had never met anyone, in all her life, who she loved more than she loved herself. Not even you. Sometimes, you thought, especially not you. For you were the living reminder of all she’d lost and been forced to give up. It was a difficult, complicated, painful relationship you had with her, even now, all these years later.

After she’d left, she’d kept in contact with you sparingly. The occasional call or birthday card. It had taken her three years to feel like seeing you again after she’d left when you were ten. The pains and awkwardness of puberty long started, endured on your own, before she’d even had the foresight to remember she had a daughter who might need her. It was an exceedingly painful and lonely time for a young girl to survive on her own, but you bore it, as you did the entirety of the fallout that came with her leaving.

Your father was another story entirely. He’d fallen to pieces, completely, the day she’d left and had never had the strength of will to ever pull himself together again. It was a strange sort of existence the two of you had lived in those years, keeping each other company. Physically, he was there, but he was never present, never sentient. He drowned, for years and years, in a sea of pain and liquor, and he never resurfaced. You watched him sink, a young girl incapable of comprehending or acting in a way that could’ve helped him, as much as you wanted to or even tried, all of it was futile. Eventually he hit the bottom of the ocean and died there, and you were left more alone than ever.

You remember there’d only been four people, in total, at his funeral. You and two men from the shithole bar he liked to lose himself at every week and the priest. It was a terribly painful thing to live through on your own. Humiliating in a very specific and acute way, for some reason. To know that this sad, pathetic specimen of a human being had had a hand in creating you, to know that he was your father and that you loved him, despite his weakness, his vices, his lack of care for you, you loved him. And you felt interminably sorry for the creature he’d been turned into at the hands of an uncaring and poisonous love. You hadn’t been able to tell her for ten months, after he’d been dead in the ground, that he’d passed. She’d not called, didn’t like giving you her number, said she was too busy to have to worry about you calling her at all hours of the day, as if you’d asked her for a single thing in the decade since she’d left.

And you loved your mother, even after it all, you did, but it was a poignantly devastating moment, the day you realized she was not just your mother, but her own person, as well. The day that childlike naivety, unconscious self centeredness, was cast away to realize that she was savagely flawed and human, and that she did bad things that hurt good people. And still, and still she was your mother and you loved her. Your greatest influence, the hand that shaped you, and you loved her despite everything. It was only that, after the rose tinted glasses had been ripped away, and she was only then herself, nothing more – pedestal forsaken – she was just a flawed woman who sometimes made mistakes, made the wrong choices, hurt you and your father and fractured your family. That was a hard thing to come to terms with as a young girl.

You realized now, with the lifetime of experience she’d inherited to you, that motherhood built a pedestal and a grave, all at once, over and over again. A woman could vacillate between being the Madonna and the whore, and the cycle was inescapable and destructive and enticing, all at the same time. It was something that one could try to avoid or run away from, but many times, it caught up to most, hooked its claws in you and dragged you away from the things you would’ve wanted or done otherwise. You realized this was what had happened to her. She’d never been built for motherhood, for the responsibility of raising a child, so she’d desecrated the altar of it, taken a sledgehammer to it and freed herself in the only way she saw she could, collateral damage be damned.

And so you’d isolated yourself, for the thought of doing the same thing to someone that you might have loved or someone that loved you, was soul destroying. And that was the saddest part of this whole overly cliché tragedy – that you were sure that, at a certain point in her life, she’d loved your father, as well. Perhaps not enough, not enough to change who she was, what she really wanted, but she had loved him in her own way, nevertheless.

Parallel to the tragedy was the ironic reality that in some very safely guarded part of you, you longed so, so desperately for your own chance at a happy family, love, children. How could you not? When you’d never experienced it for yourself during your own childhood. Always having to make your own meals, get yourself ready for school, alone at ten years old, walking to the bus unaccompanied, no one ever waiting for you, expecting you, watching over you. Alone, alone, always alone. How could you not want to build your own normal, loving, happy family for yourself? You wanted it very badly.

But there was also no part of you that felt, in the most vital ways, capable of showing your underbelly in such a vulnerable way. You had always been too sensitive, a weeper from a long line of weepers, and the second thing you were most terrified of, after turning into your own mother, was being left again, abandoned to another derelict and lonely childhood. So your aloneness suited you, for now. At least, in terms of your romantic life. Your isolation kept you safe, guarded from those that would savage the sensitive and salted battleground that was your heart.

That, however, did not mean that you were immune to wanting, to the disease of yearning, of desire, and so you found it most unfortunate, cosmically laughable and cruel, that it would be this man, this married, beautiful, entirely unattainable man, that would have reminded you of that desire again, after it had lain dormant for so long: Joel.

Joel tried to think of you only in the moments when he was feeling particularly strong. It was a challenge he’d set for himself from that day, all those months ago, when you’d appeared at his house on Easter. Like a fucking angel or a creature out of a fairy book. Soft and luminous and so fucking pretty. No, Joel tried very, very hard not to think of you.

He failed often, though. He’d not forgotten you since that day. Had tried to fish, as subtly as possible, through Tommy, for information. See if he’d heard anything about you from Gerri. Any new details or gossip about the pretty little art teacher. Tommy was a terrible goddamn gossip, like a clucking hen. And Joel knew, he knew empirically, that thinking of you was wrong. That he had a wife that he needed to be respectful of, even if she was never respectful of him, fucking her coworker – or had been… still was — he couldn’t keep track anymore – didn’t really care, if he was being honest. But you, you were the one small, private thing he kept for himself. The thought of you, the image of you in his mind, you were only for his moments of great necessity. You’d been so sweet that afternoon, walking into his home with your bunny cake. That fucking cake haunted him – the look in your eyes as he watched you stand over the trashcan staring at it. He’d been so scared you’d start crying, that he’d have to comfort you, that he’d be able to take you into his arms. He’d been terrified of what would become of him if he’d gotten the opportunity to feel you like that. But no, you’d left. Made up some weak excuse he knew you could see he didn’t buy, and had quietly left, not even saying goodbye to the others. He’d had a terrible one-sided argument with Eva that night. Told her she’d been unnecessarily rude and cruel, doing that to a complete stranger who was just trying to be nice. She hadn’t batted a single eyelash, all his frustration going in one ear and out the other.

He could, to a certain degree, understand where her behavior came from. He knew she was unhappy, he knew she hated their life together. That it was nothing like what she’d ever envisioned for herself, and so she acted out sometimes. At his age, he found now, that you couldn’t ever really fault a person for not being what they’d never been meant to be. He understood this, had accepted that his marriage would never be of the happy or intimate sort. That Eva had never wanted to be a mother, but had felt trapped by circumstance. He dealt with it. Or ignored it. Avoided looking directly at the ugly reality of it, more like. He had Sarah and work and Tommy, and now that his brother was with Gerri things had gotten a little better, happier for the family. She was a good addition – kind and spunky. She was good for his brother, and he was happy for them.

But the day he’d met you – it had made a savage claw of want gouge through his entrails. He’d not remembered the last time he’d wanted something the way he did when he watched you walk out into the backyard long hair shimmering in the sun, and a nervous flush sweeping over the apples of your cheeks. And even if he’d been unattached, free to pursue you like he liked to dream about sometimes, you were so young – much too young and pretty for an old, washed up, has-been like him. But he could imagine it, like he’d said, only when he was feeling particularly strong. Or maybe particularly weak. He couldn’t keep track of which was safer anymore. When the years and work and responsibilities and grief and loneliness surged up too high and overwhelming for him to bear, he liked to think of you in that little yellow sundress. Wonder what it’d be like to be a younger man, to have met you first. A bad, selfish, terrible thought to have. But just in the quiet privacy of his mind, when he needed a small something to make him feel just a little better – he liked to think of you.

The only other time he’d seen you, once when Tommy’d had to drop something for Gerri at the college, he’d insisted on tagging along. Hoping he’d maybe be lucky enough to get a glimpse of you, and oh, he’d been so, so rewarded. You’d been carrying a stack of supplies from your car into the building, one of those spiky things women wore twisted in your hair to keep it up, wisps of your long, heavy locks escaping the knot, and a little, red, spaghetti strapped top. The thin of it on your shoulder had slipped off the delicate wing of your clavicle as you balanced everything you’d carried in your arms and tried to kick your car door closed at the same time. It’d taken everything in him, all the self control he possessed, not to sprint over to you and offer to help you, to fall to his knees at your feet. You’d blown a strand of your hair out of your face, the cutest expression of frustration scrunching your brow. His gut had twisted almost painfully with yearning. He hadn’t even known he was capable of fucking yearning, but he sure as hell did now. He felt it sharply, piercingly, like a knife to the gut. He’d met you once for Christ’s sake, seen you in person only twice, but you plagued him, you plagued him.

He knew it was probably partially a symptom of how alone he was. Lonely to his very core. His marriage had never been a real one, no closeness, no intimacy. A byproduct born of one drunken night, and Joel’s need to do the right thing, give his child a stable home with two parents and all the love he could give her. And Sarah, Sarah was the greatest gift that he’d ever been given. This perfect little person that he still, three years later, could not believe had come from a piece of him.

He’d told Eva that he’d do whatever she wanted, would accept whatever she’d chosen when she’d first realized she was pregnant. She’d refused the alternative route vehemently, and so he’d never suggested it again. If he was being honest, he’d been happy when he’d found out, in some small way. The situation wasn’t ideal, of course, they’d been veritable strangers at that point, but he’d been thirty seven, at the time, and he liked the idea of children. Eva was attractive and intelligent. He’d proposed immediately, gone out and gotten a ring and gotten down on one knee. He’d naively thought that perhaps, eventually, with time, they might grow closer. That idea was squashed quickly. She’d made it clear that she’d never wanted to marry him, but she also didn’t want to go at it alone, knew he was responsible and reliable, and so she’d accepted. And perhaps, he should have tried harder to win her over afterwards, but if he was being as honest as he could be, he wasn’t very interested either, didn’t really mind the lack of intimacy with her. They just weren’t a good match.

She’d left a few months after she’d given birth. Ran off with some guy she’d met – only a note left saying she couldn’t do it anymore. He hadn’t tried to go after her, hadn’t tried to bring her back or look for her. A better man probably would have, would have fought for his wife, for the mother of his child. But he’d never loved her, not even close, and so he’d taken care of his baby girl, had tried to be everything she needed and worked as hard as he could so that she’d never want for anything. Eva had come back after about a year and a half – her affair had run its course, and she’d said she wanted to try again with Sarah, that she’d made a mistake, wanted to be part of her daughter’s life. Of course he’d let her come back. He wanted Sarah to have a mother that was present, to have everything a child should have. And afterall, it was no hardship for him personally. She didn’t want a relationship with him, only Sarah. And so they’d settled into this strange agreement of co-parents slash roommates who just happened to be married. Eva liked to keep pretenses up, so they did the occasional family thing together. Especially now that Tommy was with Gerri, she liked to pretend at the double date thing, occasionally. Even though Eva couldn’t stand the poor girl. It was a pieced together sort of life, but it was better than what some had, and Sarah had her mother. He couldn’t complain.

But he did like to imagine a sort of alternative sometimes – something different, less lonely. He could tell she was going to leave again soon, more unsatisfied and frustrated and restless than ever. He couldn’t even find it in himself to resent her for it, it only hurt him for Sarah’s sake, for he didn’t think she’d be coming back this time.

It hadn’t been such a bad idea to come after all, you think, as you lounge on the dock by the lake. The sun is strong but not burning – warm and soothing. It feels like there are ghost fingers stroking all along the bare skin of your arms and legs. Gerri had made a pitcher of sangria and you were slightly tipsy off it now. A light weight, through and through.

The house they’d rented was gorgeous. All exposed wood and big glass windows right on the lakefront. Gerri’s sister was a doctor – a spine surgeon or something really fancy. She’d rented the house and invited all of you – no chance for Joel’s wife to be pissed off that you’d tagged along.

There were large boxes of the loveliest white hydrangeas along one side of the dock. The sweet scent of them drifting around you as you lounged on the chair you’d planted yourself in with your sangria. Yes, this was a good idea. You’d managed to evade Joel and his wife in the hours you’d been here. Gerri and Tommy were great as always and her sister and her partner were so nice. You’d talked about the pottery class, she wanted to pick up a new hobby, trying out the whole work-life-balance thing, and she’d thought pottery’d be a good fit for her. She was planning on signing up for the next semester.

You’re slightly dozing now. The warm sun and sweet alcohol making you languorous and drowsy and all fizzy on the inside. You think you might be able to hear the breeze sliding through each individual blade of grass on the bank, whistling over the surface of the water, and you can’t stop picturing his arms in your mind, but you’re pretending to ignore that, or pretending the bulging, mouth-watering muscles, prominent veins running under the surface of his tan skin, dusted with a light coating of golden brown hair belonged to someone who was not him. He has the largest hands you’ve ever seen, and you wonder what one of them wrapped around your throat would feel like. Bad, inappropriate thoughts.

You have one arm slung above your head, resting at the crown of your scalp to partially shield the sensitive skin there from the strong sun when you feel a sudden piercing pain, right to the center of your palm. You shriek, jolting violently, glass of sangria falling and shattering on the deck and stumbling up out of your chair, sending it flying back topside. A wasp buzzes menacingly around you, and you shriek again, cracked and painful. The thing had stung you right in the center of your tender palm. You hear the quick paced steps of someone approaching, too distracted trying to evade the horrible thing when you hear Joel’s voice. “Stay still, it’s okay. I’ll get it.”

Your hand really, really hurts. You stop your swatting and feel the back of your eyes pinch, hot tears pooling in the corners. Not only is the sting incredibly painful, but you really hate bees, wasps, all the ugly mean things that buzz and sting. You can feel the slight tremble of your frame begin to take over as you try to patiently wait for him to get rid of it.

He comes closer, “It’s okay, he’s gone. Did it get you? C’mere, lemme see.”

You clutch the injured hand to your chest, try and scoot away from him shaking your head, but you get too near to the edge, and his hand shoots out to cup your elbow, other hand coming to circle your waist and turn you so you’re standing in the center, and he’s closer to the edge.

“No, no, it’s okay. It got you, lemme see it–” he gently circles his big rough palm on the thin of your wrist, and now you’re really shaking.

“It’s o–okay,” you hitch, you feel a tear slide down your cheek. Fucking embarrassing. “I’m okay, really. It’s nothing.” You try and pull your limb out of his grasp, but he pulls you closer. He says your name then, not necessarily sharply, but in the way of a rubber band snapping against your skin, a slightly jarring crack followed by a tingle, something that reverberates through your entire body.

Then gentle: “Just come here,” and coaxing. How could anyone ever say no to a voice like that. So deep, so patient. “Lemme see, it’s okay. No, don’t be scared. Lemme see, open your hand for me, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle, it’s okay,” his soothing voice over and over. Coaxing you into capitulation, into following his orders. He smooths his rough thumb gently, gently over the sides of your palm, coaxing your fingers to uncurl and let him see the hurt. “Oh, it’s alright. None of that trembling, sweet girl.” And then he brings your hand up to his hot, wet mouth and presses his lips to the wound, gently sucking. You can feel the wet of his tongue pass over it once, slowly sucking the venom out of your palm. You feel everything below your belly button go hot and liquid at the feel of his tongue on your skin. Oh, God, you want to feel that mouth everywhere, between your legs.

You think you let a jagged whimper claw its way out your throat, for his eyes flit to yours, a flash of heat igniting them. He pulls his mouth away, turns to spit, thumb gently brushing over the tender inside of your wrist. He says your name so softly. “That’s better. You’re okay. No tears.”

His large hands completely engulf yours. His fingers are thick and long, his nails clipped short and neat. Beautiful, masculine hands. Working hands. He doesn’t wear a ring. “We can get a clove of garlic on this,” he’s still cradling your limb, “Heard that’s good for stings.”

This is bad, bad, bad, bad. Not part of your plan to stay away from him at all. He’s staring at your cradled hand, his gaze trained on the way his own palm dwarfs yours. You feel his touch tighten for just a second, he brings his eyes back to yours, and you watch as a swallow passes through the strong column of his throat.

He called you sweetheart.

There are so many reasons why you know he’s dangerous to you, why you should stay away from him: his kindness, how competent he is — the way it seems like, no matter what in life could ever present itself to him, he’d be able to take it in, take care of it, fix it. He could handle anything. How fucking gorgeous he is, his hands, his face, his body, the dark curls, the slightest hint of silver threads beginning to appear through them, the deep dark eyes, but most of all, more than any other reason, the way he says your name — like the worst thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life, and also the loveliest. So soft and deep and soothing. A voice that could get a person to do anything, capitulate to anything, commit any crime.

And what was it about wanting something you should not want, could never have, that made you want it all the more? Rebellion of the highest order calls your name.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. He still has you clutched in his grasp, is staring at you almost in shock. You try to pull away and his grip tightens for one second, like he can’t bear the thought of letting you go, and then releases you, lets you pull your injured hand back into your chest.

“Alright?”

And you’re so disoriented by him, by his touch that you instinctively reply: “Yes. Are you?”

He looks confused for a second, shakes his head a little and then laughs, “Yeah – yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart.” He shouldn’t be calling you that, but it sounds so lovely coming out of his mouth. You’ll tell him to stop next time. It’s okay. Next time he says it you’ll tell him not to call you that anymore. Embarrassment burns your cheeks.

You shake your head, “Sorry, I–”

“It’s alright. No need to apologize. Let’s get you inside. Get somethin’ on that hand.”

You take a step back from him, and he matches it with one step of his own forward, like he isn’t planning on letting you run away. It makes the speed of your heart kick up a notch, a hummingbird fluttering within the confines of your chest. “No, really, it’s okay. I’ll ice it or something. I’m fine, honestly. Thank you for– for your help.” You feel like you’re blinking a hundred times a minute, the sun suddenly scorching, when just a moment ago it had been soft and warm.

You need to get away from him.

“Rubbin’ a garlic clove on it’s good for stings. There’s some in the kitchen, I’ll get it for you.” He reaches a hand out as if to take hold of you again, and you take two more steps away. This time he does not follow, you see the muscle of his jaw flutter.

“Really, Joel. It’s okay.” You feel like you’ve said these words to him before, like all your short acquaintanceship has consisted of, is you apologizing and running away, bowing out before it gets too scary or complicated or threatening. He probably thinks you’re an idiot. “Th– thank you for your help. I’m just gonna –” you hitch your thumb back towards the house, “I’m just going to go back inside. Sorry.”

He only nods, frozen on the dock as you walk away from him.

Chapter .2

Netherfeildren Masterlist

#someone's fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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coloursflyaway · 3 months

Text

I And Love And You

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.200

Read on AO3

“Well, so, since I think you’re the best person in existence, the thought that you love me, that’s pretty special”, Charles tries to explain. “And that makes me feel pretty special. That you could love me.” Edwin stays silent for a while, but he doesn’t look away, seemingly figuring something out, making a decision, or a third thing somewhere in between. “That makes sense”, he eventually says, speaking slowly, almost like he is still thinking about it. “In that case, I shall endeavour to tell you more often.”

Edwin tells Charles he loves him again and again, until Charles can say it back.

The first time Edwin tells him he loves him is in 1993 when they are on a case and Charles has been stuck with reading one of the old texts they have at the office for so long that the unfamiliar letters are blurring before his eyes. He didn’t even realise that Edwin noticed he was struggling, but then there’s a soft voice next to his shoulder and a hand snatching the book from the desk in front of him.

“I’ll take care of this one, Charles”, he says, and when Charles turns around, Edwin already has his nose buried in the text, looking a lot less confused by it than Charles was feeling. “I love you”, Charles tells him without thinking, because it’s true every day, but he loves Edwin a little more just now.

And Edwin looks up from the book for a moment, eyebrows raised in surprise, but then his expression softens, almost starts to glow. “I love you, too”, Edwin says, and Charles basks in it for the rest of the night.

The sixty-third time Edwin tells him he loves him is on the steps to Hell, only that it’s different now, means more and means the same simultaneously, and Charles says it back and means it and gets Edwin out of Hell, and truly, that is the only thing that matters.

The sixty-fourth time is on the roof of their building, a few weeks later, when they are looking out over the city. Crystal is with her parents, trying to build some kind of relationship from scratch, so it’s just them, and Charles likes it that way, has missed it, even. As brilliant as Crystal is, in the end this is what his existence comes down to, Edwin and him.

“Do you wish I hadn’t told you?”, Edwin asks, apropos of nothing, into the almost-silence, the hum of cars and life beneath them. Maybe it should take Charles a few moments to figure out what Edwin means, but it really doesn’t; even if they haven’t talked about it yet, Edwin’s confession is never far from his mind. Neither is Hell, neither is how close he came to losing him.

“Nah”, Charles replies easily, looks over at the best friend he ever had, who is not looking back. “I’m glad you trusted me with it. And also, like. It’s quite flattering, to be honest.” He gives Edwin a grin, even if he cannot see it, but maybe Edwin can hear it in his voice, maybe he can sense it, maybe it can make this a little easier.

“Flattering?”, Edwin repeats, and while he says it to the city spread out in front of them, he turns to face Charles afterwards. There is something like hope in his face, and Charles wants to pull him against his chest and make sure Edwin knows he never has to hope to be loved again.

“Yeah, absolutely. You know I think the world of you, right?”

Edwin nods, and that at least is a relief; if he didn’t, Charles would have to reevaluate every choice he has made since meeting him. “Well, so, since I think you’re the best person in existence, the thought that you love me, that’s pretty special”, Charles tries to explain. “And that makes me feel pretty special. That you could love me.”

Edwin stays silent for a while, but he doesn’t look away, seemingly figuring something out, making a decision, or a third thing somewhere in between.

“That makes sense”, he eventually says, speaking slowly, almost like he is still thinking about it. “In that case, I shall endeavour to tell you more often. Because you are very special to me.”

He looks as serious as anything, and it warms something deep inside Charles’ chest, his mind. On impulse, he reaches out and curls his fingers around Edwin’s thin wrist and holds onto it.

“You’re pretty special to me too”, he tells Edwin just for good measure, shoots him a lopsided grin, and Edwin smiles back in that soft way of his that he keeps for Charles alone.

“I am glad to hear that”, he replies, and the muscles under Charles’ grip shift, but Edwin doesn’t pull his hand away. “And Charles?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They are on a case for the sixty-fifth time.

There is a painting that seems to suck ghosts into it if they get too close, trapping them into the canvas, and although they have been going through every and all books their library has to offer, nothing seems to help. So, instead of research they comb through the museum the painting has been hanging in, even if Crystal is the only one of them who can get near enough to actually inspect it.

She takes a picture of it with her tablet and takes it back to them, before she goes back to the painting, trying not to draw attention to herself as she figures out a way to touch the frame without tripping any alarms. At the same time, Charles and Edwin hunch over the tablet computer in a corner of the quiet museum, using clumsy, untrained fingers to go over the painting inch by inch.

It’s a feast of a sort, complete with lavish dishes and glass carafes full of dark red wine, the table set for another six people who have not yet arrived. The ghosts that have been consumed already are crowding the other seats, some looking delighted, some frightened, some just confused.

At the head of the table, a man is seated in a gilded chair, one that Charles does not know from the file they have of the victims, but who looks familiar anyway. He squints, zooms in on his face, and it takes a moment, but then something clicks.

“Mate, I think that’s the artist”, he tells Edwin, the rush of something that could solve the puzzle coming over him, “Do you think he painted himself into it and is somehow taking the others?”

It sounds slightly strange to his own ears when put like this, but Edwin’s eyes go wide, and Charles can see him connecting dots he has not yet noticed.

“He was dying when he painted this”, Edwin says, looking back at the screen, eyes flickering to take in all of it. “And scared of it by all accounts. If he found a spell… and he allowed his own soul to be sucked into it and then used it to trap others so he would not have to face his afterlife alone… oh, Charles, you are a genius!”

Without wasting a second, Edwin gets up, shouting for Crystal, but before he can run over to her, Edwin turns around once more. “I love you”, he tells Charles, and it’s sweet and it’s honest and Charles takes the words and tucks them deep down into the centre of his soul, and follows Edwin to solve the case.

The seventieth time Edwin tells him he loves him, Charles has just dropped a priceless artefact on the floor where it had splintered into a thousand pieces. It’s not important for their case, just something they picked up in Tromsö as payment for a quick missing person quest, and Charles hadn’t meant to drop it when pulling it out of his backpack; it had just happened.

Edwin looks at him, exasperated but too tired to argue, and says, “You should count yourself lucky that I love you.”

Maybe it’s not the cleverest response, but it’s the only one Charles can give. “I do. Every day.”

The seventy-first time is when they are back at the agency afterwards. Half an hour earlier Crystal had passed out on the sofa, mumbling something about not thinking she should be forced to walk back to her apartment when their sofa was just there, so Charles is sitting on the floor instead. He’s trying to figure out if he should move the jar of bees further up in the backpack where there is now an open spot when Edwin clears his throat behind the desk.

It’s nothing he does often, usually electing just to speak without preamble, so the sound makes Charles look up at him almost immediately.

“What’s up?”, he asks, and Edwin hesitates; another thing that isn’t like him at all.

“You do know that I don’t truly think you have to count yourself lucky that I love you, don’t you?” He asks the question in such a stilted, adorably Edwin way that Charles cannot help but smile at him, metaphorical heart overwhelmed with affection for this impossible, brilliant, beautiful boy.

“Of course I know that”, he replies and Edwin seems to relax immediately, like this truly was something weighing heavily on his mind. “I do, though. Every day.”

And he means it.

The seventy-third time Edwin tells him he loves him, Charles is on the floor, legs drawn up against his chest and his head resting against his knees. In death, there is no more exhaustion and yet Charles feels it, his limbs so heavy he cannot lift them, his eyes burning as if he had been crying for hours.

He hasn’t, he doesn’t think he deserves to.

If there is something Charles hates it is cases where they can’t do anything at all, where they try and they try and then, they try again, but the outcome has been fixed beforehand and in the end, the only thing they can do is watch someone being dragged to Hell. To a Hell that Charles knows now, one that haunts his thoughts in the hours in between, showing him Edwin covered in blood and so, so scared, a hundred of his bodies discarded and ripped to shreds in a corner.

Edwin, who sits down next to him, although Charles knows he doesn’t like sitting on the floor, who puts a hand on Charles’s shoulder and squeezes.

“Charles?”, he asks softly, and there is so much compassion, so much understanding in his voice that it almost makes the tears in Charles’ eyes spill over. “I love you.”

And it’s enough and it’s too much and there are tears running down his cheeks, but Edwin holds him when Charles flings himself into his arms, tucks him under his chin and keeps him safe, and he��ll be alright.

They’ll be alright in the end.

The seventy-fifth time is a few days later, when Charles is feeling almost like himself again. They are trying to decide on a new case, one that won’t leave Charles feeling like they have to carry the weight of the world on their backs, and Crystal decided to sit this one out no matter which case they picked, so it’s just them.

“To be honest, the only thing that matters to me is that it won’t have the potential to go horrifically wrong this time”, Charles explains as he sorts through their case files, and it feels a little like a confession. Edwin would never judge him for his response to their last case, he knows that, and yet it feels a little shameful, because he might have been in Hell for an afternoon, but not long enough to warrant any of this.

“I could not agree more”, Edwin concedes and puts away a few envelopes without opening them. “How about a simple shoe-leather case for now?”

“Yeah, that sounds good”, Charles says, and it feels like relief and it feels like shirking a duty he usually asks to fulfil. And maybe that feeling is audible in his voice, maybe Edwin just knows him so well, since his expression softens, and he picks out one of the case files at random, hands it to Charles.

“Let us try this one”, Edwin tells him, before putting a hand on his shoulder, like he put a hand on Charles’ knee back then on the floor. “And Charles? You did nothing wrong. I love you.”

And maybe it’s hard to believe in that moment, but Edwin looks at him with such certainty, and if there is anything Charles is good at, it’s trusting him. So he takes a deep breath, a luxury he sometimes indulges in, and nods.

“I love you, too”, he says, and that, as well, is something he can trust.

The seventy-eighth time Edwin tells him he loves him, is because of nothing in particular at all. It’s a Sunday morning, the sun shining through the windows and although Charles cannot feel its heat on his skin, he has still pulled the sofa over to luxuriate in the brightness.

“Charles?”, comes from the other side of the room, and Charles just hums to indicates that he has heard Edwin. “I love you.”

The words make him look up and over at Edwin, who is watching him from where he has been reorganising their library; he looks soft and happy in a mellow, relaxed kind of way. Charles wants to push back the strand of hair that has fallen into his face.

“Love you, too”, he says instead, chest aglow with the words, a spark hidden between that warmth, and settles back into the cushions. “You should come over and enjoy the sun with me.”

“We cannot feel the sun”, Edwin counters, but there is little actual objection in his voice.

“I know”, Charles says, and scoots over so Edwin would fit right next to him, if he wanted to do so. “But we can pretend.”

The seventy-ninth time they are on the very top of the London Eye for no reason at all, just that they haven’t had a case in a week and Charles had been itching to get outside and do something. Edwin had done his best to pretend to resist, but had lasted only a few minutes before letting Charles drag him through the walls.

A little part of Charles misses Crystal, because she would love the view, but Crystal is on a date. With a living man whose dead aunt they had as a client a month ago, and while Crystal had seemed nervous to tell him, Charles finds that he doesn’t care much about it.

Not because he doesn’t care about Crystal, not at all, but because their little fling had naturally fizzled out after he had brought Edwin back from Hell. They had never talked about it, but even that would have felt unnecessary; there was no way Charles would sneak off to kiss Crystal when Edwin was in love with him. Even if he still isn’t sure what that makes them, Charles knows he couldn’t continue anything with Crystal when he had promised Edwin that they would figure out the rest between them.

So, Crystal is on a date and Charles is here, looking out across the city next to Edwin, the murmur of the other passengers’ conversation easily drowned out by decades of practice.

“It looks so peaceful from up here, don’t you think?”, Charles asks, because before their little break, they had spent far too many days running from people with iron machetes and murderous intent.

Edwin nods his approval, and Charles reaches out and takes his hand, because he wants to feel that Edwin is beside him. Not in Hell, not in the grasp of a witch, not in any kind of danger. Just next to Charles, exactly where he belongs.

“I’m glad we’re getting a little break in between everything”, he continues and runs his thumb across Edwin’s knuckles. He might not be able to feel the soft skin there, the warmth of Edwin’s blood beneath it, but he still feels something, and that’s enough. “I feel like we deserve it.”

“That we do”, Edwin agrees, and for a moment, Charles can feel his fingers tightening. “Maybe, if it continues for a little longer, we could go out of town for a few days? We haven’t done that in a while. Perhaps to Florence, or Berlin. I remember you liking it there.”

“Great idea, that’d be aces”, Charles tells him and Edwin smiles out at the city; it’s good, and yet Charles wishes Edwin would smile at him instead. “We can start making plans once we’re back home.”

“Fantastic”, Edwin replies and then, “Also, Charles? I love you.”

And this time something flutters in Charles’ chest, delicate and lovely as a nightingale, and Charles intertwines their fingers, because he wants to feel Edwin a little closer, still. “I love you too.”

The eightieth time Edwin tells him he loves him is in Berlin, after Crystal has left to go to a rave. She had been delighted to go on a trip, and although it meant that Edwin and he would spend a few hours on a plane instead of just walking through a mirror, Charles is happy to have her there. And yet, when she had asked if he wanted to join her, he had turned her down without a second thought.

Chances is sure he would have enjoyed going dancing, even if he would be left without the booze and the drugs, but it’s not as compelling a thought as to spend a night wandering the city with Edwin at his side.

So here he is, walking from the Neptune fountain towards the Lustgarten, where Edwin wants to take a look at the Old Museum and their antiquities collection. They have been here before in the early 2000s and Charles remembers it better than expected, the broad streets and the relentless traffic and most of all the breeze in the air that feels like freedom and promise.

“I’m very glad we came here”, Edwin says softly; Charles can hear him even over the cars passing them every few moments. “We should do it more often, getting out of the city. Maybe we could go to Prague next, they have a fascinating cathedral. Or Vienna, I always wanted to visit the catacombs there.”

“Sure, sounds good”, Charles responds easily. He knows little about Vienna and even less about Prague, but if Edwin wants to go, he will gladly follow. “I’ll ask Crystal if she has a preference, then we could draw up a list of places to go. Maybe take the agency on a worldwide tour.”

He shoots Edwin a grin, who smiles back a little distractedly, before asking, “Speaking of Crystal, why didn’t you go with her tonight? Would the music not be to your tastes?”

“I don’t know much about the music, to be honest. It’s not like I’ve ever been to a rave before”, Charles replies, shrugging his shoulders. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“We spend all our time together.”

“I know”, Charles replies and bumps his shoulder into Edwin’s, just to feel the resistance there, to know Edwin is next to him. It warms something within his chest, not just his heart, but everything around it, too, makes him think of springtime and bluebells and Edwin’s smile. “I like it that way.”

There is no response for some time, but that is fine, because they are crossing the bridge to the Museum Island, and Charles is happy to watch the city around them, listen to its energy, its life. At some point, he slips his hand into Edwin’s and lets their fingers weave together; it’s nothing they do often, but still so easy.

“Charles?”, Edwin eventually says when they are almost at their destination. His voice sounds different, almost fragile, like something Charles would give his life to protect. “I love you.”

And there it is again, that little flutter, that warmth spreading further through his chest, because Edwin loves him, and Charles isn’t certain if there could be anything more precious than that knowledge.

“I know. I love you, too.”

The eighty-fourth time Edwin tells him he loves him, they are running. Not for their lives but for their continued existence, and it’s terrifying because Charles can almost taste the blackdarknothingness at the back of his throat and the thought that he might never see Edwin again is the most terrifying thing he has ever faced, like it is every single time this happens.

They round a corner and Charles reaches out to grasp Edwin’s hand in his, even if he knows it will slow them down, because he has to feel Edwin next to him at least one more time.

Edwin looks over at him and he looks as terrified as Charles feels, a twin look of despair on their faces, and for a moment, he squeezes Charles’ hand before letting go again.

“I love you”, he shouts at Charles through the noise the creature chasing them makes, and within the terror and the defiance and the desperation, there is a bright spark, a hint of warmth, because Edwin loves him and even if they blink out of existence, Edwin will have loved him and that makes any fate worth it.

“I love you, too”, Charles yells back, and means it more than anything he has ever said before in his life.

The eighty-fifth time is only minutes later, when Crystal has hit the creature with the potion they prepared this morning, followed it up with whatever she does with her powers now when she goes silent and wild and unstoppable. They are safe, and they are together, and Charles isn’t sure if one of them hugs the other first or if they just meet somewhere in the middle, a flurry of limbs grasping at each other and relieved laughter.

Charles’ head fits into the curve between Edwin’s shoulder and neck easily, Edwin’s chin digging into the flesh of his shoulder, and it’s bliss, being here. It’s bliss, being with Edwin.

“I love you”, Edwin mumbles into the crook of Charles’ neck, and Charles pulls him closer, wants to forget entirely where he ends and Edwin begins.

“I love you, too”, he replies and there are tears in his eyes, in his voice; his heart and chest are so full of it, it feels like they are spilling over, pumping sunshine and warmth and bluebells and Edwin’s smile through his limbs. “I love you so much. I love you the most.”

The hundred-seventeenth time Charles tells Edwin he loves him, they are back at the agency and it’s just a Thursday, the sky grey with clouds and a few non-urgent cases waiting for them on Edwin’s desk.

There is nothing special about it, not about the day, not about the time, not about them sitting together on the sofa in companionable silence. It’s a day that has happened a hundred times before and will happen a thousand more, but on this one, Charles looks over at Edwin on a whim, and it’s like he sees him for the first time, the thousandth time, the last time.

He is beautiful, like he has always been, ever since Charles had seen him back at the school for that very first time, bathed in the golden glow of a lamp that wouldn’t be enough to save him, and Charles loves him, has loved him, will love him for as long as he exists.

“Hey, Edwin”, he says softly, and watches Edwin look up, carefully put his finger down between the pages of his book before closing it. A hundred times he has seen it before, and yet it makes Charles smile now. “I love you.”

It takes a moment, but then Edwin smiles back at him, soft and sweet and like he is truly happy, and Charles moves before he can have a single thought.

Edwin’s lips are as soft, as plush as they look, and Charles cannot feel them, but he can feel them still, just like he can feel them parting in surprise, can feel the curve of Edwin’s jaw as he reaches out to grasp it. He kisses Edwin like he might have wanted to for years, kisses his love for him onto Edwin’s skin, licks and nips until Edwin’s lips part beneath his ministrations, and Charles can lick into his mouth and pretend to taste him.

The kiss lasts a moment and forever at the same time, and when Charles eventually pulls away, Edwin’s hair is slightly mussed from his fingers, his lips shining wet and his eyes still closed, only fluttering open slowly. He’s beautiful and he loves Charles and Charles loves him.

His hand is still cradling Edwin’s cheek, and for a second, Edwin nuzzles into it; Charles’ heart is a supernova, is collapsing into itself, is being born once more.

“You love me like this?”, Edwin asks, quiet and hopeful and lovely, and Charles nods before he can even finish the sentence.

“I love you in every way there is.”

Edwin’s eyes light up like stars, like sunlight, like the grey, clouded over sky on days that are special simply because they are together, and Charles wants to fall to his knees and pray to him, kiss his devotion onto Edwin’s palms and wrists and soles of his feet.

“I love you, too”, Edwin says, and Charles leans in and kisses his devotion onto his lips instead.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles

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endthedream · 1 year

Text

5 1/2 coffees to love

pairing: barista!jungwon x customer!reader (she/her)

summary: When Jungwon finds out you hate coffee, he makes a bet with you that he will be able to make you fall in love with coffee. But what if you fall in love with him instead?

words: 15.3k

story colour: yellow

notes: This is for my fellow coffee haters and probably the fluffiest fluff I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoy this story and always remember to spread kindness!🪽

masterlist of enhypen as jobs

Coffee. A beverage brewed from the roasted and ground seeds of the tropical evergreen coffee plant. One of the top three beverages in the whole world.

And you hate it. You absolutely despise it. The bitter taste, the obnoxious smell. Everything about it makes you want to take whatever plant it comes from and destroy it forever.

Okay, maybe you’re just being a bit dramatic. But still, you don’t get how people actually enjoy that drink.

When you first tried coffee, you were 5 years old. You saw your mom drink it every day and as a curious child, you wanted to try it too. So, when your mom wasn’t watching, you grabbed her cup and drank a sip. Almost immediately your face scrunched up in disgust and you let out a small yelp.

“Oh sweetheart.”, your mom cooed, taking the cup from you. “You’re too young to like coffee. But believe me when you’re older you will like it just as much a mommy does.”

The second time was when you got into high school. The sudden pressure and the amount of homework kept you up a lot, so you thought that coffee might help you with the tiredness. You even went as far as to go all the way to a coffee shop to get professionally made coffee. And still the moment you got back home, ready to take a sip and stay up all night to study, you learned yet again that coffee isn’t something for you.

The third and until now last time, was when you met your best friend. Sunoo and you met up in your first year of college. The two of you immediately got along and now you’re not only best friends, but also roommates. The only problem is, Sunoo is a vivid coffee lover. He claims to not be able to get through the day without coffee. You heard him praise the beverage every day and since you were older and more mature, you thought that maybe now you will like it. But once again you were wrong. Not even Sunoo’s special preparation could change your opinion on coffee.

So, now you’re here. In your second year of college, sitting at the kitchen table, trying to study, and having to endure the obnoxious smell that lingers around the apartment.

“I swear, if you make that face again while I enjoy my coffee, I will pour it on you.”, your best friend speaks up from his seat on the couch.

“I just don’t get how you can drink that, Sunoo. What is there to enjoy about?”

Your best friend rolls his eyes and walks over to where you sit at the kitchen table. He puts his cup down in front of you, on purpose, and takes a place on the other chair.

“You just haven’t had good coffee before.”, he states with an innocent smile on his face.

Good coffee? Does good coffee even exist? You doubt it.

“Honestly, I gave up on liking coffee and so should you. I mean, not on liking coffee, but on forcing it upon me. There are other things I can drink. Like a good hot chocolate or Red Bull if I need some caffein. And see it as something positive. It just means more coffee for you.”

Your best friend shrugs at your answer, already used to your stubborn side and knowing that it has no use trying to start a discussion with you about that subject. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

There is nothing you hate more than exam week. Not only is your head exploding from all the knowledge you have to force into it, but the lack of sleep you’re getting is making you look and also act like a zombie.

But it’s over. Well, at least until the next exam week starts, but that’s for your future you to worry about. All you want to do is go home, change into comfortable clothes, and spend the whole weekend sleeping.

„Let’s go into a café.”, your best friend says the moment you get into your shared apartment.

“What?”

“Let’s go into a café.”, he repeats himself, taking your bag from you and tossing it on the couch. “Come on, it’s fun. A friend of mine is working there, and I always wanted to check it out. He’s working today and I just know the two of you will get along.”

“You have friends?”, you ask amused, throwing yourself on the couch with a groan. “Besides that, I just had the worst week of my life and all I want to do is sleep.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes, before sitting down beside you, taking your arms and making you sit up, which you did but not without letting out some protesting whines. “First of all, I do have friends, thank you very much. And second, that’s exactly why we should go out. You need some distraction and I’ve heard that the café makes the best hot chocolate and strawberry cake.”

You can’t deny that that offer sounds good. So, with a few mumbles of complaint, you stand up and walk towards your room.

“What are you doing?”, Sunoo asks, watching you leave.

“Changing. Which you should too, so we can leave soon.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

The moment you step into the café, you are thankful that Sunoo made you come here. The smell of fresh baked goods overpowers all the sleepiness in your body. You can almost ignore the smell of coffee. But just almost.

The café itself is rather small, but one of the prettiest things you’ve ever seen. The place is filled with a lot of green plants, fairy lights on the yellow walls and couches on the side. The tables are decorated with cute yellow napkins and behind the counter where the machines and the display window with the cakes in it are, hangs a little sign reading ‘today is your day’. It has you smiling a bit, loving the positive and comfortable atmosphere in this little space.

The yellow theme makes it even better. While yellow isn’t particularly your favorite color, it works as a little happy.

“Wow, Sunoo, this is the coolest place I’ve ever seen. Why didn’t you bring me here earlier?”

Your best friend admires your beaming face, having been worried the whole week about your wellbeing. Sunoo knows that once you want something, you do everything possible to achieve it. In this case it’s good grades. He knows how hard you study to be on top of your class and how you will neglect every important thing in your life to get this achievement. Important things like sleeping, eating and your social contacts.

“I’m glad you like it, Y/n. Oh look, there is Jungwon.” You follow the eyes of Sunoo to spot a young boy talking to an elderly woman. He is leaning down, intensively listening to what the woman is saying and smiling politely at her. You immediately notice the dimples that form on his cheeks. Cute.

“Let’s sit down and wait until Jungwon can take our order.” The café is mostly empty, aside for the older woman. And you’re thankful for that. Crowded spaces aren’t exactly your preferred type of place to hang out.

Sitting down with Sunoo at a nice table gives you some time to look around the café yet again. Somehow with every time you look around, you see something new appearing in the small space. A new detail that makes this café even more adorable. Like the small sundae formed out of clay that sits on top of the counter. Or the picture of a croissant sitting in front of the Eiffel Tour while drinking a coffee hanging on the wall. You also notice the way all the plants are in perfect order, not one stands out of line or is overgrown. They are perfectly trimmed and look like they get watered regularly. The yellow napkins are formed into little butterflies with a small chocolate treat on them. They too are perfect. Folded so precisely, you swear that if you just had to make one, you would have lost your nerves. But what is yet the sweetest and also most considered thing, is the little mental health cards all over the room. Small cards with different quotes, positive affirmations and motivations on them. You swear that you just walked into heaven. How can this place be so perfect and yet not overfilled with people?

“I’m sorry for the wait.”, a voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Oh! Hey, Sunoo! You really came.” Looking up, you see Jungwon smiling at your friend.

“Of course! I could not miss out on this place. And you didn’t lie, it’s amazing. Right Y/n?” Suddenly the attention of both men is on you.

All you can do is nod, giving a quick thumbs up.

“Y/n? You must be Sunoo’s best friend. He talks a lot about you.”, Jungwon exclaims, giving you a sweet smile. Damn, that really is his charm.

“You talk about me?”, you ask your friend with raised eyebrows. “I knew it. You are obsessed with me.”

Sunoo lets out a scoff. “Don’t let it get to your head. I’m just mentioning the person I’m literally living with.”

Before the two of you can continue to argue, Jungwon gets in between. “What can I get for you? Have you decided on something to order?”

“I want a mint chocolate mocha and chocolate cake.”, Sunoo says, beaming up at Jungwon.

“Well, for me a hot chocolate and a strawberry cake.”

Jungwon writes your orders down on a little notebook that he carries around in his apron. “Your order will be here soon.”

You watch as he leaves, truly captivated by him. That doesn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. “What’s got you so kept up?”

“Hm?”

Your friend can’t help but chuckle as he looks at your confused face. “Oh, someone has a little crush on Jungwon.”

“What? No. I just met him five minutes ago.”, you exclaim, shaking your head.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t find him cute.”

Well, maybe you do think he is cute. How can you not? The small dimples that appear whenever he smiles, the cute cat-like features he has and the kindness he carried the moment you stepped into the café. Maybe it does sound like you do have a crush on him, but that’s not the case. You could never catch feelings for someone this fast. You were never a believer of love at first sight, even if you call yourself a hopeless romantic. For you love is something that blossoms over time. It’s built up from trust and trust can only be formed with a lot of time passing by. It’s built on respect from both sides. Without that love is simply not possible, so you won’t even consider it. Not with someone you met a few minutes ago.

“A mocha and chocolate cake for you, Sunoo and hot chocolate and a strawberry cake for you, Y/N. I hope you enjoy it.”, Jungwon speaks in a gentle voice as he puts your orders on the small table in front of you.

“Do you have a few minutes to spare?”, Sunoo asks Jungwon, already taking a bite of his cake.

“Yeah, there isn’t a lot going on at the moment, so I think I have a few minutes. Why?”

“I thought maybe you can join me and Y/n, so we can talk and catch up a bit. And you two can get to know each other a bit more.”

“Sure, why not.”, Jungwon agrees, sitting down on the empty chair between you and Sunoo.

“How’s English Lit going?”, he asks Sunoo who in return lets out a deep sigh.

“Same old. Mr Walker is still as mean as ever.”

Now it’s your turn to let out a sigh. “God, don’t even let me get started.”

“Why?”, Jungwon asks. “You’re in the class too?”

“In the class? No, I’m suffering through it.”, you frustratingly munch on your cake before continuing. “I cannot stress enough how this man should not be a teacher. Don’t get me wrong, he can explain good and has so much knowledge, but when it comes to human interactions or empathy, this man is lost. You know how in English Lit we are supposed to discuss English literature and also express criticism towards it, which leads to discuss and so on. Whenever someone criticizes something or even just expresses their opinions, he declines it and continues his lesson. He gives us no room to voice our thoughts. He just does his thing and goes.

“And the assignments. They are longer than my will to live, I can tell you that much. I spent so many sleepless nights writing and doing research and what do I get? Nothing. He just grades it and sends it back, no comments, no helpful tips, just the grade and that’s it. I’m honestly so sick of it. I want all my hours of sleep back.” Dramatically you let your head fall on your arms, realizing a little whine.

“Sorry.”, Sunoo says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We just had exam week and she is exhausted. And well, since she doesn’t drink coffee to keep her awake, she pretty much could fall asleep anywhere at this rate.”

“You don’t drink coffee?”, Jungwon asks, his voice laces with a bit of shock.

“Nope.”, you state, lifting your head up again. “Hate it. Worst drink in the whole wide world. Disgusting. Disgraceful. Infuriating.”

Jungwon lays a hand on his heart, gasping loudly. “How can you say that to a Barista? Coffee is the best thing this world has ever experienced.”

You just roll your eyes, taking a huge sip of your hot chocolate out of spite. “I highly doubt that. But I can’t argue with coffee lovers. You guys are strangely stubborn.” You give Sunoo a pointed look to which he just sticks his tongue.

“Believe me. Try one of my coffee’s and you will change your mind.”

“Don’t even try.”, Sunoo intervenes. “I’ve been trying for over a year to get her to like coffee, but she just won’t. You will just waste your time.”

“Oh no, believe me. I can make her like coffee.”

You let out a laugh, which sounds more like a scoff. “Nice try, but I don’t believe you.”

“Okay, then let’s make a bet. If I can make you fall in love with coffee, you will have to do something for me.”

“And if you don’t?”, you ask.

“Then I will have to do something for you. Anything you want.”

“Anything I want?” It’s a good deal, you think, but is it worth it having to drink a lot of coffee?

“I don’t have the time to come to your café every day.”

“Well, then how about once a week? It gives me time to perfect my coffee creations and give you the best versions of it.”, Jungwon grins, holding his hand out for you. “Do we have a deal?”

You sigh, taking his hand in yours and giving it a firm shake. You would do anything to prove to a coffee lover that coffee isn’t that great. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t! Just see, you will become a coffee lover!”

☕1: Mocha

Rain. There is something so comforting about rain. The way it feels when soft, cold droplets of it fall on your heated skin. Relaxing your muscles and making you feel like you’re floating on top of a cloud into paradise where all your worries in life disappear and you can just exist. The smell, how it creeps up your whole body and makes you want to stop and take it in until even the dwell of it disappears. And you don’t mind that you come home with soaked clothes and wet hair. You don’t mind the coldness that lingers on your skin. Because the moment you dried your hair, changed your clothes, and got yourself a cup of tea, you can sit in front of your window and watch how the streets get washed up from the rain. You observe the cars driving into puddles and splashing the water in every direction. You watch as a couple, sharing an umbrella, walks past your apartment building, arms wrapped around each other to keep the other one warm from the coldness of the rain. And you look at the rain drops on your window, betting in your head on which one will win the race, happy when yours won and disappointed, when you focused on the wrong one.

You wrap your blanket around you tighter, as you hear the door to your apartment open. Knowing it’s Sunoo, you stand up, tiptoeing out of your bedroom.

“It really had to rain today.”, you hear him complain. “Out of all days.”

You snicker a bit, watching how he tries to fix his wet hair in the mirror of your hallway. “Don’t laugh at me.”, he speaks up, pouting in your direction. “Not all of us are rain lovers.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Rain is awesome.”

Sunoo walks into the kitchen, taking out the rest of the Chinese food the two of you ordered yesterday. “Yeah, when you sit at home and don’t get wet.” He puts it on a plate and into the microwave. “Want some too?”

“No, I will pass.”, you say, heaving yourself on top of the kitchen counter. “I will save my hunger for later. I want to eat another strawberry cake when I go to the café.”

“Oh right.”, the boy exclaims, taking out the plate and digging into his food. “You’re meeting up with Jungwon today. Excited? Nervous? Giddy?”

You pull your eyebrows into a frown. “Why should I? I’m just fulfilling my side of the bet.”

“Yeah, and also meeting up with a super cute boy. I saw you looking at him. You definitely find him cute.”

You roll your eyes, jumping down from the kitchen counter and walking back into your room. “Cute or not, I’m just there to proof him wrong.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Entering the café, you are immediately overcome with the same tranquility as last week. Insane how one place can make you feel so at ease.

“You made it!”, you hear a familiar voice exclaim. You look up to see Jungwon behind the counter. He’s dressed in a white shirt with blue pants and his apron on. You notice the little print lingering on the left side of his chest. ‘Café Sunshine’. Last week you didn’t look at the café’s name, just amazed by the unique furniture, but it definitely makes sense why the café is named that way. Despite the rain you feel like you have stepped into the definition of sunshine.

“Yeah, sorry for being late. My bus driver thought it was necessary to talk to another bus driver for 5 minutes.”, you roll your eyes, sitting down at the same table you sat at last week.

“Don’t worry. Because of the rain no one came in today, so I had a lot of time to perfect your drink.”

You nod at him, showing him a slight unsure smile. Being honest with yourself, you have to admit that you’re a bit scared. It’s been a long time since you last tried coffee and trying it in front of someone who makes coffee as a living is intimidating you. You don’t want to be rude if you don’t like it. Despite loving to prove coffee lovers wrong, Jungwon is still mostly a stranger to you. A really friendly one as well.

“Okay, but please don’t be too disappointed. I really don’t want you to put so much time in it just for me to hate it.”

He just smiles at you, his dimples on full display. “Y/n, don’t worry, okay? I love making coffee and you just give me a reason to practice more, that’s all. And if you don’t like it, I will just finish your drink.”

You let out a deep breath, that you weren’t aware you were holding, clearly relieved at Jungwon’s reassurance.

“So,”, he says, putting the coffee down in front of you. “this is a Mocha. It’s a variation made from espresso, hot milk, and liquid chocolate. I even put a little cream topping on it to make it look cuter. And the same chocolate and high milk content makes the Mocha taste very mild and sweet. I gathered that you might dislike coffee because of the bitterness, so this is a great start.”

You listen to everything Jungwon tells you and you have to admit, it makes you smile a bit. He really put a lot of thought into making a coffee that might match your taste.

“Thank you, Jungwon.”, you say, grabbing the cup with one hand. You can’t lie, it looks pretty good, and the chocolate almost covers the smell of coffee. But just almost.

“Y/n.”, Jungwon calls out your name, making you look right into his worried eyes. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. You know that, right? I know we have a bet, but I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You show Jungwon a smile, appreciating his kindness. You swear this boy couldn’t get even more perfect.

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, I’m just scared of the taste. Last time I drank coffee I had a full on fit and had to drink a liter of milk to make the taste go away.” That earns you a little chuckle from the boy sitting in front of you.

“I have an idea.”, he says, standing up and walking back to the counter. He grabs a plate and puts a piece of the strawberry cake you ate last week on it. Walking back to you, Jungwon puts the plate down in front of you and takes a seat again.

“Here.”, he says showing you his dimpled smile. “I saw you enjoying this cake last week. If you don’t like the coffee and need to get the taste away, just eat the cake.”

“I like your way of thinking.”, you state in a teasing voice.

You grab the mug once again, this time taking a small sip. The first thing you taste is the strong flavor of chocolate, but sadly that isn’t lasting long. Because two seconds later the espresso makes itself present on the flavor buds in your mouth. And while it’s not strong, you still shudder slightly at the bitterness.

Jungwon watches the whole scene, amusement clearly written all over his face. “That bad?”

“No, it’s not bad. I mean, it’s not good either. It’s just the bitterness.”, you answer, already shoving a spoon of cake into your mouth.

“You’re really a tough case, huh?”, Jungwon remarks, leaning his head on one hand, watching you with his cat-like eyes.

“Warned you before, but you wouldn’t listen.”, you shrug, sighing at the welcoming sweetness of the strawberries. “Want to just call it quits and admit that you won’t get me to like coffee?”

“What?”, Jungwon exclaims, eyes wide and mouth agape in fake shock. “Calling it quits? Never. Darling, this is just the beginning of this journey.”

☕2: Cappuccino

Jungwon wasn’t kidding when he told you that this was just the beginning. For the whole week he kept on texting you, sending you different designs of coffee and hyping up his recipes. He told you he is trying even harder to make you like the next one but when you tried to get some hints regarding the next coffee, he declined immediately, telling you to be patient.

And as much as you hate to admit it, you are actually looking forward to meeting him again.

Other than last week, the sun is out. Shining down on earth and painting it in a soft glow. That doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the people living in your town. The once empty café is now filled with people to brim and instead of calmness washing over you when you enter, you feel a wave of stress overcoming you.

You’ve never been a people person, preferring staying at home in the comfort of your room where no one can disturb you. The only person you really tolerate is Sunoo and that also took a while until it got to that point, even if he is the complete opposite of you. Sunoo is a social butterfly, making friends wherever he goes. And while that sometimes annoys you, you’re happy your friend has that ability.

“Hey, sorry Y/n. I will be with you in a second. Sit down and I will bring you your coffee.”, Jungwon says as he passes you by, already hurrying to the next table he has to serve at.

You look around the room, recognizing some familiar faces from your college. It was bound to happen that this place wouldn’t stay hidden for a long time, but you’re kind of sad that so many people discovered this place and disturb your peace and quiet now.

Instead of following Jungwon’s instruction, you stay standing at the entrance. You don’t see a free table anyway. Every table is occupied by students who are loudly talking to each other. You see how Jungwon easily makes conversation, laughing at the things the students say and in return making them laugh at whatever he remarks.

Envy is what’s filling you. You wish you could have this ease while talking to people. You wish you could just get over yourself, sit down and drink that damn coffe so you can go back home. But not only envy is filling you, disappointment as well. You were really looking forward to this. To spend time with Jungwon and trying something new. The whole weeklong you texted each other, not only about the coffee, but about random events in your life.

He told you how his cat at home only cuddles with him whenever she’s sleepy and how when she’s awake, she is a little diva. He also told you that that’s probably the case because he treats her like a queen, giving her everything she wants and almost never being able to say no. You told him how you miss home sometimes. How you miss your weekly family night game evenings where you would destroy your brother at Uno and how all of you would lose your nerves over board games.

You shared a lot with each other and for some reason it wasn’t even hard. It felt so easy talking to him, opening up and sharing stuff that took you a while to tell Sunoo. It’s like you’ve known each other for years already. So, it’s understandable why you notice the slight feeling of disappointment coursing through your veins.

Jungwon notices you not moving away from the entrance and while he gets a few seconds to spare, he looks at your face. And what he’s greeted with worries him. You’re pale. Your face shows clear signs of unease. And he feels stupid. He feels stupid because you told him how you don’t like crowded spaces and he forgot. He should have cancelled today and made you come back on a less crowded day, but he forgot. He was simply so excited to see you again and show you the coffee he’s been working on, that he just forgot. But you’re here now anyway and he would regret it if he just sent you away.

So instead, he ignores the call for his name from one of the tables and makes his way over to you. He gently takes your hand and guides you behind the counter where the register stands. “Wait here.”, he tells you in a gentle voice before walking back and grabbing a chair. He takes it behind the counter and places it down in front of you. “Just sit here, it’s the furthest away from all the people.”

You show him a small appreciative smile before whispering a quiet thanks.

“I’m going to serve one of the tables and then I’m right back with you, okay? We can try the new coffee then. Is that okay with you or do you rather want to go home?”

Going home sounds tempting, but you’re already here and while you still feel a bit of panic in you, you actually really want to stay. For the bet, of course.

“No.”, you croak out. “I want to stay. I will wait here.”

Almost immediately, his face breaks into a wide grin. “Okay, great. Give me a few seconds and I’m right back.” And with a bit more speed in his walk, he goes to serve the customers. From your position you have a good view of the table Jungwon is standing at. You recognize the girls sitting there from your math class. You see how they twist their hair as they talk to Jungwon, giving him flirty looks with their eyes and a small laugh escapes your mouth. Because while they’re obviously flirting, Jungwon seems to be oblivious to it. He notes down their orders, giving them polite smiles and keeping the conversation light. It’s cute.

When he returns a few minutes later he smiles, a bit relieved you’re still sitting in the same position as before. “I’m making your coffee now and believe me when I say I perfected this one.”

You watch as he walks over to the machine, only three steps away from you and starts his work. He looks like he’s been doing this for years by how professionally he handles everything.

“You know the girls were trying to flirt with you?”, you say, giving him an amused smile.

“What?”, he asks, thinking he heard you wrong over the loud noise of the coffee machine.

“The girls at table 3, they were flirting with you.”

“Really?”, he questions, looking back just to see them smile and wave at him. “I didn’t notice.”

“I know.”, another laugh escapes your mouth. “You’re so oblivious to it, it’s honestly funny.”

“So, you find it funny, huh?”, he asks teasingly, raising his eyebrows. “Not so funny if I would put a lot of salt into your coffee.”

You gasp. “You would never.”

“Oh, watch me.”, he says but before any of you can continue, a voice interrupts you.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a bother.”, the elderly woman that you saw here two weeks ago states. “I just wanted to pay, it’s a little too crowded in here for me today.”

Jungwon gives her a gentle smile before putting down your half-made coffee and walking to the register. “You would never be a bother, Mrs. Sim. Okay, you had your usual so that makes 8.99.”

The lady takes out her purse and lays the money on the table. “That your girlfriend?”, she asks, a sly smile on her face.

“Oh, no.”, Jungwon stutters out, cheeks turning into a slight shade of red. “She’s my friend.” You give the lady a shy smile, trying not to let your heated cheeks show.

“What a bummer. She’s pretty.”, she takes the change out of Jungwons hands and gives you two a last smile. “See you tomorrow, Jungwon. Have a great day, you two.”

Jungwon returns back to the coffee, a slight tension of embarrassment lingering in the air. “You know this lady well?”, you ask, trying to break the tension.

“Oh yeah.”, he clears his throat, trying to hide his cracking voice. “She’s my friend Jake’s grandma and was really close friends with my grandma. I look up to her because she’s been huge part of my life for as long as I can remember.”

You watch him as he purrs milk into the coffee, creating some kind of pattern. “That’s so sweet. She seems really nice.”

“She is.”, he remarks, walking over to you and handing you the cup of coffee. “Tadaaaa. I even made coffee art for you.”

As you look down at the hot liquid in your hands, you can’t help but smile. With the milk foam he created a little heart on top of the coffee.

“Aw.”, you coo at the boy in front of you. “This looks so pretty.”

“Now you only have to like it. It’s a cappuccino. Pretty much everyone that has stepped foot into a café has heard of it. Cappuccino is an Italian coffee drink made from an espresso and hot milk froth. I put a gentle sprinkle of cocoa powder on top to make it sweeter, but not too much because I didn’t want it to distract too much from the original taste.”

A call of Jungwon’s name interrupts the small moment between the two of you.

“I will be there in a second.”, he replies to the customer, still looking at you. “We have to hurry up a bit today.”

You nod, slowly guiding the cup to your lips and taking a little sip. Jungwon watches you intensively and you try your hardest not to show your dislike for the coffee he made.

“You don’t like it.”, he states.

“No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s coffee, but it’s fine.”, you try to convince him.

“Y/n, don’t lie. I can clearly see how you don’t like it.”, you can see the flash of disappointment in his eyes, but he quickly tries to play it off and shows you a bright smile. “Third times a charm, right? Next time you will love the coffee.”

And for some reason you really hope you will. Even if that means you lose the bet.

☕3. Bómbon

“How do you even know Jungwon? I mean it’s not like he goes to our college.”, you ask Sunoo who lays beside you on the couch, watching an episode of a k-drama you found a few days ago.

“He did.”, Sunoo answers, eyes focused on the tv. “We met at the history course first year of college and just sat beside each other for a while. Before he dropped out of college.”

“Why did he drop out?”, you ask, turning your body so you can look at your best friend better.

“I don’t know.”, he mumbles. “Never told me. Every time I saw him, I forgot to ask and now it would be too weird to bring it up now.”

It’s a shame, you think. You didn’t know that Jungwon was at your college, if you had, maybe you could have been friends earlier. Or you would have never talked to him. That’s the most likely scenario. If it weren’t for Sunoo bumping into you and spilling coffee on your favorite shirt, you would have never talked to him. Sunoo felt so bad that he searched online where your shirt was from and bought you two new ones. He gave those to you the next day and told you he bought an extra one in case someone else bumps into you and ruins the shirt again. After that, Sunoo decided to spend everyday with you. He walked with you to class, accompanied you to the library to study and trusted you enough to tell you his whole life story. And almost a year later, the two of you are roommates. Walking around each other with unbrushed teeth and bed hair, crying your eyes out after watching a sad k-drama and caring for each other whenever the other person lays in bed with a cold.

To sum it up, you have seen each other at your worst and that all wouldn’t have happened if Sunoo wasn’t so determined to be your friend. Without that happening, you probably would sit in a tiny apartment, watching tv all by yourself and wondering where the hell you went wrong with your life.

“Sunoo?”

“Yeah.”, the questioned man hums, still trying to focus on the drama that’s playing.

“Why did you decide to be my friend?”, you ask him. Noticing that you have the urge to talk, Sunoo grabs the remote control and stops the k-drama. Moments like that happen rarely, where you start a conversation leading to a deeper and more emotional topic. That’s why he faces his body to you, giving you his full attention before he says his next words.

“Well, if I spilled my coffee on any other person’s favorite shirt, they would have lost their minds. They would have either cried or started screaming at me. But you just smiled at me. You told me that’s it okay and that you get that my mind was somewhere else.”, he smiles at the memory of the day you two met. “You even went as far as telling me that the life of a college student is stressful enough than to worry about a shirt getting ruined. But even through your kind words and your bright smile, I could see some sadness in your eyes. I could tell you really liked the shirt, but instead of making me feel bad, you tried to comfort me.”

Sunoo leans forward, taking one of your hands in his. “And from that moment on, I knew that I had to have someone like you in my life. And as cheesy as it sounds, but everyday that I get to spent with you as my best friend, I’m glad that I spilled my coffee all over you.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

A frown appears on your face as you read the ‘closed’ sign that’s hanging on the door of the café. Looking through the window, you see no one inside, not even Jungwon. Did you mess up the day? But you clearly remember Jungwon telling you to meet him here on Saturday. Maybe he forgot. Or maybe you did read the message wrong. Unsure, you take out your phone, checking your messages.

Jungwon: Let’s meet up on Saturday. It’s less crowded then. Does 2 pm sound good to you?

It is Saturday and while you’re here 10 minutes earlier, you don’t see how it can be closed. The café normally opens at 8 am and closes at 5 pm.

You sigh, putting your phone back into your pocket, taking one last look into the café. You get ready to just go home and spend the day either doing left up work for some assignments or just get into the bathtub with the book you’ve been wanting to read. But before you can even turn around to walk back to your apartment, you hear a familiar voice calling for your name.

“Y/n”, Jungwon calls out. “Wait up.” He jogs over to you, keys jiggling in his hand.

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to be here earlier, but my mom had a problem with her phone, and I had to fix it for her.”, he explains as he opens the door to the café, holding it open so you can be the first one to enter.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologies, Jungwon.”, you say, as you sit down at your usual table which thankfully wasn’t filled with students this time. Jungwon tosses his jacket on the chair next to yours, walking behind the registers and getting his machines started.

“Why aren’t you taking the ‘closed’ sign away?”, you ask him, watching how he ties his apron.

“Because we are closed today.” His answer is kept short as he’s already focusing on making your coffee.

“What do you mean closed?” You walk over to him, hating the distance between the two of you. You hate to admit it, but you like looking at him when you talk. For some reason, you find the small facial expressions he does whenever you talk to each other adorable. And those dimples. Yeah, can’t get enough of them as well.

“I closed the café today, because I wanted you to feel comfortable while trying the coffee I make. And well, last week I could see how the only thing you wanted to do was go home, so I made sure today that won’t cross your mind even once.”

You feel heat crawling up your neck, painting your cheeks in a red color, as you listen to Jungwon’s words. He closed the café just to make you feel more comfortable.

“Jungwon, you really didn’t have to.”, you say, but as soon as those words leave your mouth, he dismisses them.

“Y/n, it’s important to me that you feel comfortable. I know that this is all a bet we try to win, but over the last three weeks you became a dear person to me, and I will do anything to try to make you as happy as you can be while spending time with me.”

Butterflies fly wildly through your stomach, and you think you might have to throw up. What is happening to you?

Before you can answer him, which you weren’t even sure if you can, he takes the cup of coffee and walks back to your table. You trail behind him like a puppy and take a seat, looking down at the two layered coffee.

“This one is called a Bómbon. It’s originally from Spain. It’s just two ingredients, espresso and sweetened condensed milk. It has two layers, because the condensed milk holds the espresso up without mixing it like milk would do. It’s perfect for someone with a sweet tooth.”

If you had to decide between the two coffees you’ve seen and this one, you would choose the Bómbon based on its looks.

“Well, it already won, because it looks good.”, you remark, making Jungwon let out a small laugh. Another wave of butterflies’ courses through your belly as you hear the gentle sound. Maybe you’re getting sick.

“Give it a try.” And like routine, you take a small sip, ignoring the waiting eyes of Jungwon.

But this time is different. While you can still taste the lingering bitterness of the espresso, the sweetness of the condensed milk is almost completely washing it away. You know, you will still not order this for yourself next time you go to a café, but you can admit that it’s not bad.

“I actually kind of like this one.” Jungwon’s eyes widen at your statement, making him look like a little child on Christmas.

“Wait really?”, he asks, not believing what you just said.

“Yeah. I mean, I will probably not order it again, but for coffee it’s good.”

Jungwon could just accept that, say the bet is over, get his side of the prize and move on with his life. But for some reason that still isn’t enough for him. Three weeks ago, he told you he would make you fall in love with coffee, the same way he fell in love with it. You, telling him the coffee he made is good, but you won’t drink it again, isn’t what he meant when he was proposing the bet.

When he heard you admitting to hating coffee, he felt a crack in his heart. Jungwon was surrounded by coffee his whole life, his grandmother introducing him to the wonders and varieties of it. He learned to love coffee at a young age. When he was ten, he could do better coffee art than most of the big café owners in the city. And while he accepts that every person has different tastes and opinions, something in the way you were so sure of yourself made him want to challenge you. Because who could change your mind if not him? Even his grandmother would have tried to do the same.

So, he can’t give up on the bet. Not when he is that close to making you like coffee. He just has to find the right one for you.

And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want the time with you to be over yet and searches for an excuse to see you again. Even if it’s just once a week.

“Jungwon?”, you gently call for his name. “Are you okay? Did I upset you?”

“No!”, he croaks out, clearing his throat before continuing. “You could never, Y/n. Especially not with expressing your honest opinion.”

He shows you another smile. “I think I already know what coffee to do next.”

“Next? Didn’t you win the bet. I mean I liked this coffee.”, you tilt your head to the side, giving him a confused look. And he thinks that this might be the cutest thing you’ve ever done.

“The bet was to make you fall in love with coffee, not to make you like a drink that you won’t ever touch again in your life. I want to make a drink that you can’t get enough of.”

You look at him, out of words. “The determination you have.”, you say, shaking your head. “But this can’t go on forever. We have to set some kind of limit or else I won’t even have the possibility to win this bet.”

“Okay, how about two more coffees. If I can’t make you fall in love with any of those, you won.” Once more, Jungwon holds out his hand for you. You take it, giving it another firm shake, sealing the new deal.

“To whoever wins the bet and has to fulfill the wish of the other person.”, you cheer on, holding the coffee up in the air.

And while Jungwon is watching you, he isn’t sure who he wants to win the bet anymore.

☕4: Frappuccino

The sun is shining brightly, laying warm on your skin, and filling you with happiness. Maybe that’s why Jungwon decided to close the store again and have the two of you meet up at the local park. On any other occasion you would have thought it was date, but since you know this is all just for the bet, you quickly dismiss that thought.

Instead, you sit on the small park bench with your eyes closed and a small smile on your lips as you enjoy the warmth of the sun. Considering it just being the beginning of spring, the sun hasn’t shown its face in its glory a lot. So, you take in every ray of sunshine you can before it decides to go away again.

As you sit on the park bench, waiting for Jungwon, you take in your surroundings. You listen to the soft chirping of the birds that fly over your head, searching for things to build their nest with. A little squirrel, happy about a nut he found, quickly making its way across the wide meadow of the park to the tree it houses in. Kids are playing on the small playground, running around, and laughing until their stomach hurts. You see the parents, watching their children with fondness in their eyes, wishing to be a kid again and having back this ease in life. An older lady sits at the small pond, throwing bread into it for the ducks to eat. Which they do, giving their approvement of the bread in the form of loud croaks. A blue butterfly makes its way over the meadow, flying gracefully and settling down on a flower not far away from you.

While you watch all of that unfold, your thoughts keep on drifting away to one specific person. Jungwon.

The two of you spend the whole week on the phone together, calling each other after every hard day and talking until late in the night. Just for the two of you to wake up the next day tired, but with fond memories.

The more you talk to him, the more you realize the constant feelings you have when you’re around him. While you do have butterflies swirling around your belly whenever his name is just mentioned, you don’t feel nervous around him. Of course, your cheeks turn into a soft shade of marron when he compliments you and your breath sometimes stocks for a moment, when he gets closer, but you still feel comfortable around him. Completely at ease. Like you do when you step foot into the café. Jungwon makes you feel like you could conquer the world if you wanted to. Encouraging your every dream and never failing to make a miserable day better.

You realize how you suddenly don’t want the bet to end. You don’t want to not see him every week anymore.

All you want is to spend everyday with him. Listen to him ramble about the customers that visit Café Sunshine, hear him laugh at a bad joke you tell and look at you with his wide eyes and dimpled smile.

But the more time you spent thinking, the more anxious you got. You two never met up outside of the café. It was always at the same location, the same comfort zone. What happens if you two realize that outside of the café you might not get along that well? What if he was so dazed by work all the time, that he never actually took a good look at you. And now out in the open with the sun shining so bright, he might change his mind about you. While you don’t think Jungwon is shallow, a part of you still makes you want to cancel the meet up.

You are so kept up by your thoughts that you don’t even notice someone sitting down beside you. Jungwon watches you with an amused smile, seeing that you’re deeply lost in your own thoughts.

But that gives him some time to take you in.

Because of the sunny and warm weather, you opted to wear a yellow summer dress that makes you look like you’re out of a Disney movie. There is some part of him that hopes that you put this dress on for him. That you put this dress on thinking about the theme of his café and him and wanted him to notice that. But he ignores that thought and instead decides to just keep on watching you. As creepy as it may look like, Jungwon finds it really comforting. Sitting in silence with someone, appreciating nature and just living in the moment. These are moments Jungwon doesn’t get often since he works at the café all day long. And when he gets home, he is too tired to do anything except for laying in his bed and sleep. It’s no surprise Jungwon barely has any friends. There are regulars that come to the café, but most of them are elderly people. Sometimes, like two weeks ago, there are people his age at the café, but college life is hard. The constant study and the lack of money is keeping most of the students away from his café. He understands that, of course he does, but part of him is disappointed. Jungwon wished he could make more friends, have people to talk to everyday about the things that are going on in his life. Have people to go on trips with, making late night drives to McDonalds and laughing at the lamest jokes together. Have karaoke nights, get completely wasted together and have one of those 3 am deep talks. That’s all Jungwon wants. And while he does have Jake in his life, he doesn’t get to have those things. Jake moved to Australia two years ago to study. So Jungwon really has no one. No one but you.

And for once in his life, he thinks he can really have all the things he has ever wished for with you. He sees this kind of person in you that he doesn’t want to lose, that he can’t lose. It’s been 4 weeks of texting, calling, and meeting up once a week and he already can’t imagine a life without you. It’s weird. It’s weird how you can meet a person and from one to another day that person is one of the most important people in his life.

Jungwon also can’t deny the underlying feelings he’s evolving for you. He isn’t stupid. Of course, he notices the way his body reacts whenever you step into the room or when he hears your voice over the phone. It also doesn’t help that he thinks about you everywhere he goes. Somehow, he sees you in everything. When he goes grocery shopping and he sees hot chocolate, he thinks about you and the first time you met. When he walks past a book shop, he thinks about you and your constant complains about your stupid English Lit teacher. And only yesterday when half the city was covered in rain and the other blessed by the light of the sun, he thought about you. He wanted to send you a picture of the rainbow that was forming in the sky, telling you how beautiful it is. And if you agreed, he would have told you that it’s not half as beautiful as you. But of course, he can’t do that. He can’t do it because you would think he is weird to tell you such things. And he can’t do it because there is no way you could ever reciprocate his feelings.

Jungwon notices that quite some time passed by, so he decides to gently tap your shoulder. You wipe your head around, looking right into his eyes. By the sight of his face, you let out a sigh of relief.

“You scared the shit out of me, Jungwon.”, you say, a small laugh escaping your lips.

“Sorry, I’ve been sitting here for a few minutes, but you were so deeply in your thoughts, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Blush creeps up your neck. Have you really been that kept up in your mind that you didn’t even notice Jungwon’s presence right beside you?

“Penny for your thoughts?”, he asks, scooting a bit closer to you.

“Oh.”, you stutter a bit. “Uhm, just college stuff. Assignments, exams, deadlines, you know the drill.”

Jungwon nods and you can see something changing in his face. Did you say something wrong?

“Let’s pick out a place to sit, I brought a blanket and some things from the café.” You nod at his words, standing up and following him as he walks through the meadow. He finds a place where the grass isn’t high and no flowers bloom, so you two don’t destroy anything. You help Jungwon lay out the blanket and together you plop down on it.

“Want to know what special drink I prepared for you today?”, Jungwon asks, already opening the small basket he took with him.

“What a stupid question, of course I want to see it.”

He laughs at your choice of words and gets out a plastic cup, putting it down in front of you. “I have to say, I went against all my barista morals with this one.” You take the cup in your hand, gasping slightly as you feel the coldness in your hands. “This is a Frappuccino as Starbucks likes to call it. It’s basically espresso, milk, ice cups and whatever sweet thing you want to have in there. Normally I don’t make stuff like that. I like to stick to the classics, but since it’s really hot today I thought that it would be nice for you. And I heard a lot of people say that this is a great starter drink for people who don’t like coffee. I never made it before, so if it sucks, I’m so sorry. Blame the Starbucks recipe I followed, not me.”

You listen to his ramble with a small smile on your lips. It’s cute how much thought he puts into your weekly coffee meet up. You just wished he would do it for you and not for the bet.

“Well thank you, Jungwon. It looks pretty tasty. What sweet thing did you put it?”

“I put in caramel, since it’s one of the sweetest things I found in the café. I hope you don’t mind.” You shake your head, finding his constant appeasement adorable.

“I don’t mind at all.” The cold drink in your hands feels refreshing compared to the hot weather. You’re not used to these temperatures, having lived in cold winter for a few months. But you can’t complain, you love that the sun finally shows its face again.

Without thinking much, you raise the cup to your mouth, placing the straw between your lips and taking a small sip. All while Jungwon watches you with an expecting look on his face. This is the second to last coffee he made for you. Of course, he still has one more chance to prove to you the wonders of coffee, but the hopes that this one will be the mind changer for you are high. After all he has to remind himself that this is a bet. A silly little bet the two of you agreed on, nothing more.

“You’re torturing me with your poker face. What do you think?”

“If I’m being honest with you,”, you start your sentence looking down at the drink. “I like the ice in it since it’s really cooling down my body, but the drink itself is okay, I guess.” You shrug your shoulders but keep your gaze down, so you don’t have to see the flash of disappointment on Jungwon’s face. “I liked the drink last week better. It tasted more real, you know. I could taste how much love you put into the coffee and this one tastes really artificial.”

Even though Jungwon feels a bit sad that you don’t like the coffee he made today, a part of him feels proud on how you can taste the differences in the coffee he made. Last week as the weeks before, he made the coffees with a lot of time and love, not thinking much of it and just following his passion. With this one he tried too hard. He tried too hard to find something you could like and forgot what this is actually about. He made something that he would never sell in his own café, and it felt so wrong, but he was so desperate to find something you will like, that he went against his own comfort.

“Thank you for noticing that, Y/N. I promise you that next week I will make something I stand behind again, instead of trying to copy coffee from Starbucks.”

You smile at his words, putting the drink down again. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you some iced tea in case you don’t like the coffee.” Jungwon grabs the basket and takes out the drinks he brought, along with all the snacks he made himself.

“Jungwon, you didn’t have to.”, you coo, looking at the delicious treats. You can feel your belly grumbling, remembering that the only thing you ate today was a bowl of cornflakes.

As the two of you munch on the snacks in silence, you remember the conversation you had with Sunoo not so long ago.

“Can I ask you something?”, you speak up after a while, making Jungwon look up from the cake in his hands. He nods softly, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but it’s just something that’s been on my mind.”

You clear your throat, moving on the blanket so that you sit facing him more. “Sunoo told me that the two of you went to the same class for a while last year, but suddenly you stopped going. When I asked him why, he said he didn’t know. Why did you quit college and started working at the cafè?”

Jungwon knew this question would come sooner or later, but the timing of it still catches him off guard. He thinks for a few moments, not sure how he should answer you.

“Well, I started going to college because I wanted to get a higher education. I always loved going to school and if you believe it or now, but I never missed a day of school when I was still in high school. I didn’t quit because college got too much for me, I loved going there. I loved the stress of the deadlines. I loved spending nights studying and I loved attending all the classes and gathering new knowledge.”

“Then why did you quit?”, you ask.

“Because my grandma died.”, he says, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence. “It was all so sudden. She was fine before and then suddenly I got a call in the middle of class telling me she was at the hospital.”

You scoot forwards, taking his hands into yours and giving them a soft squeeze. “My grandma spent her teenage years dreaming about owning a café. It’s all she ever wanted. Back then she didn’t have a phone where she could google recipes for coffee. She had to teach it to herself and that’s exactly what she did. My grandma sat in the garage with a coffee machine she got from an old store and coffee beans she stole from her parents and worked on the perfect coffee recipes. While other teenagers her age had lemonade stands, my grandma had a coffee stand. She sold the coffee she made and saved the money.”

You can see the fondness in his eyes as he tells the story. “One day as she walked through the city, she saw a for sale sign in front of a small building and when she looked inside through the window, she knew that this was it. This was the place she wanted to build her café in. And against her parents’ will, she did. She bought all the furniture and put months into making it look the way it is. My grandma was the one who painted the walls yellow, who created a save space for people and made everything that’s on the menu herself. She created a place where everyone can be themselves, where no one is excluded, bullied, or shamed in any way. She chose yellow because it symbolizes optimism, energy, joy, happiness, and friendship.”

“From the second I was able to walk I learned all about coffee. How to make it, how to serve it and how to create my own recipes. She taught me the knowledge I have today.” You get lost in his words, the story playing in your head. And you are thankful. Thankful to a woman you’ve never met for not only giving Jungwon something he talks about with so much passion, but for also being such a huge positive part in his life.

“She also named the café after me.”, he adds, a shy smile forming on his lips. “When I was a child, I would always smile. At stranger in the supermarket. At the waitress in restaurants. I was a happy child and so she gave me the nickname sunshine. She would always call me by that name. And one day when we walked into the café together something clicked inside of her. She made this place to bring joy into people’s life and no word describes it better than sunshine.”

You grin at that yourself, finding the little nickname fitting. From the moment you met him, you noticed the positive energy about him, like he baths in sunshine every day. Something about just being in his presence makes all your worries melt away.

“So, when I heard the news, I knew I couldn’t give the café up. My parents are busy at their own workplaces. And no one could have continued my grandma’s dream better than me. I mean, she taught me everything she knew, everything she put into the café. The only logical thing was to drop out of school and continue what my grandma couldn’t finish. It’s what she would have wanted.”

You nod at his words, taking a few seconds to process all the information you just got. Jungwon gives you that time, looking down at your hands which are still holding his.

“I’m sorry for what happened with your grandmother. I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”, you start, squeezing his hands softly again. “And I love how passionate your grandma was about her dream. I admire her for building up something and putting so much time and energy into it. I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been. But I have one question.”

Jungwon’s head lifts, gently tipping to the side, signaling you to continue. “You said that your grandma would have wanted for you to run the café. But do you want it?”

Jungwon is taken back by your question, his face forming into a frown. If he wants this? He never thought about it. For him it was a no brainer. He loves making coffee and talking to people, hearing new stories and making their days better, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Jungwon knew no one could do the job better than him and that his grandmother would have never trusted anyone else with the café. But does he actually want it? He never thought he would be at this place. He thought he would finish college and get a high paid job his parents chose for him. Jungwon never thought he would drop out of college to become a Barista.

He looks into your eyes, uncertainty still lingering in them. “It’s not what I planned for myself, if I am being honest with you, but it is what I want. I love doing it and I can’t imagine my life without going into this little café every single day.”

You smile at him, pleased with his answer. “Are you happy? Happy with the decisions you made so far?”

“Yes.”, he answers. This time without a hint of hesitation. “Yes, I am happy.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” You let go of his hands, grabbing your iced tea again. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

And in that moment as Jungwon hears the words that leave your mouth, he knows that there is no way out anymore.

He has fallen for you, way too hard and way too deep.

☕ 5: Vanilla Latte

Over the whole week Jungwon barely texted you.

He wished you good luck on one exam you had and texted you the details of the next time you meet up, but other than that, he stayed silent.

And while you could have just texted him, part of you was holding you back. You never talked about what the two of you are. Friends? Acquaintances? Or more? Is this going to end after the next time you meet up? Or have the two of you become so close that you will still want to see each other afterwards?

Mulling over those questions, you didn’t want to text Jungwon, thinking that it will just confuse you even more.

Jungwon on the other hand waited for you to text him. While this sounds super childish, he just wanted to see if you reach out to him yourself. Maybe he just thought you missed him as much as he missed you this week.

As Jungwon stands in front of the milk counter in the grocery store, he doesn’t notice a figure approaching him.

“Jungwon?”, he turns around, being faced by a bright smile.

“Sunoo, hey. It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other. How have you been?”

Sunoo sets down his grocery bag that’s already filled with plenty of things. Jungwon assumes you send Sunoo to shop for the items you need, since you told him once how much you hate going grocery shopping and how time consuming and energy draining it is. “I’ve been great. College life is stressing me out, but it’s nothing I can’t manage. What about you?”

“That’s great to hear, Sunoo.”, he sends Sunoo a soft smile. Even though he barely sees Sunoo anymore, he was an important person in Jungwons life for a few weeks. He was the only friend Jungwon had in class, a person he could talk to in his breaks and someone he could exchange notes with. It also helped that Sunoo always knew how to make Jungwons day a bit better. “I’ve also been good. The café is getting more popular, which means more work for me, but I enjoy it. The people are all so kind and I’ve never had this many good conversations with strangers before.”

“That’s amazing, Jungwon. I’m so proud of your accomplishments.” Sincerity laces Sunoo’s voice, clearly happy for his friend. “I would love to continue talking to you, but I have a hangry girl in the apartment and if I take any longer, she will be even more obnoxious than she already his.”

He can tell Sunoo is being sarcastic, but he can’t help to be jealous about it. Sunoo gets to see you every day. He comes home everyday to you.

Jungwon envies him for that. Not only does he want to see you every day, but he also wants a great relationship with you. He wants to be able to tease you and make jokes until your belly hurts from laughing. He wants to come home to you and watch as you study, listening to your complaints about the work and lending you a helping hand. He wants to be the person you put your trust in, the person you rely on when things get tough. But he can’t have that and it’s tearing him apart.

“How is Y/N?”, he asks before Sunoo can leave. “We haven’t texted much this week.”

“Oh, she’s good, I guess. Stressed out and sleep deprived, but other than that fine.” Jungwon just nods, sending Sunoo an appreciative smile before turning back to the milk. Sunoo notices the change in his behavior, seeing right through him. Everyone with a working pair of eyes can clearly see what is going on between the two of you. “But she misses you.”

Jungwon wipes around at those words, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What?”

“She misses you. She talks about you everyday and how she can’t wait to see you again on Saturday.”, Sunoo smiles widely, grabbing his bag again and throwing it over his shoulder. “She seems to really like you, because I never heard her talk about someone as much as she talks about you.”

Jungwon doesn’t know what to answer. A million thoughts swirling around his brain.

“I really got to go now. Have a great day, Jungwon. We will hopefully see each other soon.” With that Sunoo turns around, disappearing in the big store and leaving Jungwon to stand there alone with his thoughts.

What is he supposed to do now?

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

There are signs of nervousness seen in your steps as you walk to the café. Everyone that’s passing you by can notice that. The way you pick the skin on your fingers, how your tongue darts out every five seconds to wet your lips and the obvious shaking of your limps. People could also think you are on hard drugs, but you quickly dismiss that thought.

You don’t even know what exactly makes you so nervous about today. Maybe it is because you haven’t heard from Jungwon and you’re scared that you did something wrong. Or maybe it is because you know this day will end your bet and you have no idea what will happen after it.

The uncertainty is really driving you insane.

You tried talking to Sunoo about it, explaining him your situation and having him understand you. But you quickly noticed how that did not work out, because all your best friend said was ‘Just confess to him. Tell him how you feel and how you don’t want to stop seeing him. What’s the worst that could happen?’

The worst is that you will end up making a fool out of yourself. You still hope that the least Jungwon wants is to stay friends with you and continue your weekly meetups. You don’t want to ruin that just because you feel nervous about him. It’s not like you do have feelings for him. It’s probably just a stupid little crush that will go away as soon as the two of you leave the getting to know phase.

Still, you stand in front of the café, a place you feel comfort and happiness in, and you can’t get yourself to actually open the door.

Seeing you through the window, Jungwon walks up to open the door for you. “Hey Y/N, come in.”

With hesitant steps you walk past him and almost immediately, the familiar feeling of tranquility washes over you. You take in the scent of fresh baked cake and newly brewed coffee, thinking that this could possibly be the last time you stand in here. And you notice the slight scent of Jungwon.

Every time you walked into the café you noticed a scent that you couldn’t recognize. Not a bad smell, just something that mingles with the normal scent of the café. Only last week when the two of you sat in the park together, you noticed that that scent belonged to him. And weirdly enough, it brought you comfort. Maybe it is because you associate it with the Jungwons’ workplace or maybe it is just Jungwon himself that makes you feel that way.

“Are you okay?”, he asks as he pulls out the chair - of the table you always sit at – for you to sit down.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you? Did you have a stressful week?” As you watch how Jungwon makes his way to the counter to prepare your coffee, you notice how you could never get sick of looking at him. Everyone with eyes sees Jungwon’s obvious attractiveness. His sharp features, the cat-like eyes, his silky brown hair, the wide shoulders, and the dimples. God, those dimples will kill you some day. You could look at him all day long and not get tired of seeing his face, of seeing his smile or the concentrated look on his face whenever he makes coffee. But not only does his appearance allure you, but his personality as well. The witty comments, the way his voice changes whoever he is talking to, his friendliness as he talks to customers. The way he leans down to talk to the children who come to the café, showing them a warm smile as he gifts them a free cupcake. The care he shows for the people he loves, even if it’s sometimes not as noticeable. The passion he carries for his job and the things he loves. And his mind. The thoughts and opinions he carries with him. The way he voices his feelings and tries to never hurt anyone with the things he says.

You could never get tired of that. You could never get tired of him.

“My week was good. The café is booming with new customers, so I have a lot to do. But I’m not complaining. I love how this place gets more and more recognition the more time passes by.” He walks back to you with a see-through cup in his hand that he puts down on the table in front of you.

“This is a Vanilla Latte. It’s not been on the menu for so long, I just added it a few weeks back. It is made of espresso, steamed milk, a little bit of fine foam and lastly vanilla syrup. It’s sweet, maybe he even a bit too sweet. But I thought since you kind of liked the Bómbon, this will be a good choice for you.”, he smiles, sitting down on the chair beside yours.

“What will happen if I don’t like it?”, you ask him, eyeing the coffee in front of you.

“Then you won the bet.”, he answers you, stating the obvious.

“No, I mean what will happen to you? Will you be disappointed?”

“Yeah.”, he says. “I think so, but there is nothing I can do to change that. Even though I put a lot of effort into making those coffees for you every week, it was still fun for me. And a way to practice my abilities. So yeah, I will be disappointed, but I will also be happy that you at least tried to understand me and my love for coffee.”

You nod at his words, taking them in. Part of you was afraid of taking a sip, just like the first week of your bet, but this time for a complete different reason. This time you aren’t afraid of trying something new. This time you are scared that whatever will happen after you take a sip, will change the relationship between you and Jungwon. Now you really want to like the coffee.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the cup, but the warmth of it eases your nerves, even if it is just a little bit. You lift it to your lips and before thinking too much you take a sip, already used to this routine. Jungwon, as perse, watches you with wide, curious eyes. The hope of turning you into a coffee lover still lingers inside him.

“So, what are your final words?”, he asks after a few seconds.

“It’s definitely the best one you made so far. I really like how strong the vanilla flavor is.”, you answer, trying to end it on that.

“But?” He hears it in your voice and sees it in your face.

“I’m sorry, Jungwon. I just really don’t think coffee is for me. I am so thankful how hard you tried, and I could really see and taste the love and time you put into this. And I’m so proud of you and you should be too, because you have a real talent and make a lot of people happy with what you do.” You smile at him, putting the coffee down in front of him. “But I guess I will just stay with hot chocolate.”

A shy smile forms on Jungwons lips as he hears your kind words, and he can feel the heat crawling up his neck. “Thank you, Y/N. You don’t know how much your words mean to me. And don’t worry about not liking coffee. As you said, it’s just not for you. Even someone like me has to accept that there are actually people out there who don’t like coffee.”

There is something lingering in the air. Like the two of you desperately want to say something, but the words don’t want to come out. You feel the mood visibly shift into awkwardness, uncertainty, and maybe even longing. You can’t handle it. You can’t handle the mess of the feelings inside of you and the way Jungwon looks at you right now. His eyes shimmering with a feeling you can’t describe. He is looking at you like he can read you. Like you are open book to him, and he knows all the answers to the questions that circle around your mind.

It’s getting unbearable. You think you might break under his gaze and spill out every question that you don’t even have an answer for. And that’s not what you want. As long as you aren’t sure about things, you won’t talk to him about it.

So, instead you get up from your seat, earning a confused look from the brown-haired boy. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, sorry. I promised Sunoo to be home early so we can have a movie night.” You put on your jacket, grabbing your bag. “Thank you for everything Jungwon.” You send him a wave and a small smile before heading to the door.

“Wait!”, he calls out for you, making you turn around. “You won the bet. What about your prize?”

“I will get back to you for that one. See you, Jungwon.”

And before he can say anything else you are out the door, leaving him and taking half his heart with you.

☕ 5 ½ Affogato

In fact you did not get back to Jungwon. He can’t lie and say that he hasn’t been waiting every day, checking his phone regularly to see if you texted him. Even when he hears the door open, his head whips up just to be disappointed that it’s not you coming to the café.

When the first Saturday came around, Junwon felt weird seeing other customers in the café and not just you. He felt as if a part of him was missing. Somehow, he couldn’t get himself to stop thinking about you wherever he went.

You on the other hand spent most of the last days in your room. Except for the times you had to go to class. You keep on mulling over the things in your head, trying to figure out your feelings. It doesn’t make sense to you that you have feelings so strongly for someone you just met. You thought that the feelings would go away as soon as you didn’t see Jungwon anymore. Thinking that it was just a small crush. But the more time passes and the longer you go without seeing him, the more you long for him, the more you miss him and the more you have this wrenching feeling inside of your chest. When Saturday came along, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wanted to go to the café, surprise Jungwon and tell him all the thoughts which have been plaguing your mind. But you couldn’t. There is a part of you that still isn’t sure if what you feel is genuine and a part of you is afraid of rejection. Just because you feel that way doesn’t mean he will. You yourself have doubts on how fast those feelings blossomed. There is a huge possibility that he just did all that for the bet. For the sheer satisfaction of being right. Of proving a point.

All of this didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. Sunoo has been worried about you ever since you came back from the last time you met Jungwon. He noticed that something went wrong and as he tried to talk to you about it, all you did was dismiss him, telling him you didn’t want to talk about it.

But Sunoo is sick of it. Sick of seeing you so sad and he decides that something has to change.

He ignores your sounds of complaint as he enters your room, muttering for him to leave as you hide yourself under your blanket. “Get up.” His tone is stern, the complete opposite from his normal sweet and friendly voice. It makes you peak your head out of your blanket to look at him.

“Why?”, you ask, making him sigh. Sunoo sits down at the edge of your bed, pulling your blanket down.

“I want you to stop drowning yourself in self-pity and instead get up and do something against whatever it is your feeling.” You sit up, knees against your chest, wrapping your arms securely around them. “Stop being so oblivious and open your eyes. I don’t know what exactly you’re going through, since you won’t tell me, so I’m just going to assume. You are in love with Jungwon, but you are scared. Not only that he won’t like you back, but you are scared of love itself. You fear the potential heart break that it can leave. You think that if you feel this worse already even though you are not even dating, you don’t want to know what it feels when you actually get your heart broken.”

Sunoo takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair and thinking carefully about his next words. “But that is not how life works, Y/N. If you go through life, afraid of everything that might hurt you, you won’t live. You will hold yourself back from opportunities, from new doors opening. You will stay where you are right now, not moving an inch forward. And believe me that’s not how you want to live your life. So please, for the love of God, go to the poor boy and confess your feelings. I met him at the store the other day and when I told him that you miss him, you should have seen the way his face lit up. He is head over heels for you. He closed his god damn store on Saturdays for you just so that you could feel comfortable while meeting him. He researched coffee and spent a lot of his time making them just to find something that you will like. And when you had a bad day because of the college stress he spent the whole night on the phone with you, making jokes and trying to get you to laugh. That’s not something someone does just because. Jungwon does those things because he likes you.”

“You really think so?”, you ask, your voice small and showing all the doubts that gathered over the days.

“I know so.”, Sunoo answers, squeezing one of your knees softly. “Go get your man.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You never thought you would be in a situation like this. It almost feels like you’re in a movie.

The way you run to the café, 5 minutes before it closes, just so you could catch Jungwon before he leaves. The wind blowing your hair through the air and the flowers of the cherry blossom trees, swirling around, painting the scene even more dramatic than it already is.

By the time you arrive at the café, you are out of breath and covered by the pink flowers. But you don’t care, you storm into the small building with determination.

Jungwon stands with his back turned behind the counter, washing the dishes since there is no one in the café anymore. “I’m sorry.”, he says, back still turned to you. “I’m closing now. You can comeback tomorrow and I can make you some delicious coffee.”

You smile at his words, walking up to him. “You can’t even make an exception for me?” At the sound of your voice, Jungwon turns around. Forgetting that his hands are still wet and drenching his apron and the floor with it. But that is not important. What is important is that you actually stand in front of him.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Well, I won the bet. I came to claim my prize.” A smile graces your lips, but Jungwon doesn’t know what he means. He doesn’t know anything. It’s like his brain stopped working the moment he heard your voice.

“Yeah, right.”, voice breaking in nervosity. “What is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to go on a date with me.”

“What?” Jungwon can’t believe his own ears. Did you really just say that?

“I want you to go on a date with me.”, you repeat. “Over the past few weeks, I noticed myself slowly falling for you. I didn’t tell you because I was scared. I was terrified of getting hurt, to the point where I thought that shutting you out and denying my feelings for you was the best way to deal with this situation. But I quickly got to see that it only caused the exact opposite to happen. I started missing you so much that I felt like a piece of me was not with me anymore. I realized that I can’t live like this. I can’t keep running away from things the moment I get scared and finally face my fears.” You smile at him, tears forming in your eyes.

“I like you, Jungwon. I like you so much, it’s scary. But even considering all this, I want you in my life. No, I need you in my life. And you may not feel the same thing, but I can’t go on knowing I never tried.”

Junwon doesn’t know what to say. No words want to leave his mouth. So instead of saying anything, he walks around the counter and stops right in front of you. He pulls you closer to him and the next thing you know you feel his lips softly pressing against your own.

You melt into him, gripping his shoulders tightly as you kiss him back. You get lost in his scent, in the softness of his lips and the warmth inside of your heart. And you know that this is something you could get used to.

“How about we have it now?”, he asks you after breaking the kiss. His hand tugging a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Start what now?”

“Our date.”, he states, letting go of you and walking back behind the counter. “I have the perfect idea. Sit down please.”

You do as he says, watching him work on something. Jungwon joins you not long after, placing a big bowl of ice cream in front of you.

“This is an Affogato. It’s not really coffee, more of a dessert. But it is vanilla ice cream with espresso shots. I got this idea last week and thought you might want to try it out.” Jungwon grabs a spoon himself and together you take a bite of the dessert he prepared.

“Thoughts?”, he asks, the situation way too familiar to the both of you.

“Meh, it’s fine. But I think I will just stick to normal ice cream.” He laughs at your words, a bright cheerful laugh, that fills your whole body with joy.

“I really thought that could be the last thing to change your mind and make you fall in love with coffee anyway.”, he says, a small pout adoring his lips.

You can’t help it but lean over and place a gentle peck on his lips. “Well, I didn’t fall in love with coffee, but I sure as hell fell for someone else.”

You watch as his cheeks turn into a soft shade of red, adoring the way he looks when he’s shy.

“And I sure as hell fell for you too, Y/N. More than you can imagine.”

Bonus

☕4 years later

“I’m sorry, we’re closed.”, you say as you hear the door of the café open. Busy washing the dishes, you didn’t even look over your shoulder.

“You can’t even make an exception for me?”, you hear a familiar voice say. Turning around you are met with the face of your boyfriend, flowers in his hands. This scene seeming way too familiar to you.

“Jungwon!”, you exclaim, drying your hands and walking over to him. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be resting. I thought you were sick.”

Jungwon shows you a sheepish grin. One of hands reaching up to rub his neck nervously. “Well, about that. I may or may not have lied to you about being sick.”

“What?”, you say, a frown forming on your face. “Why would you lie to me about that?”

Jungwon lays the flowers down on the counter before reaching one of his hands into his pocket. “I had to get something.”

Looking down at his hands, you see him pull out a small velvet box. And before you know, Jungwon is already kneeling down on one knee.

“Y/n, we’ve known each other for the past 4 years and those have been the best years of my life. Before I met you, I felt alone, completely distant from the world. But when you came into my life, suddenly everything made sense. You accepted my love for coffee and even tried to love it as well, which we know didn’t quite work out as planned. You gave me the life I always wanted and now it’s my turn to give you something in return. So, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

Tears stream down your face as you look at the man before you. The man that has done nothing but give you all his love for the past four years. The man you would do anything for. And the man you want to the spend the rest of your life with.

So, there is really no other answer to his question, but…

“Yes. Yes, of course I will marry you.”

#yang jungwon #yang jungwon imagines #yang jungwon x y/n #yang jungwon x reader #yang jungwon x you #jungwon imagines #jungwon x reader #jungwon x you #jungwon x y/n #jungwon fluff #jungwon fanfic #yang jungwon fanfic #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen fluff #jungwon enhypen #yang jungwon enhypen

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barren-heart · 7 months

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We already know the ending of What We Do In The Shadows the show. The movie told us.

Spoilers from both the movie (2014) and the show (2024)

I think it’s obvious when Taika and Jemaine set out to make an American version of their vampire comedy, they weaved a lot of the same storylines into the show. We have vampire roommates, werewolves (not swearwolves) , familiars, an ancient vampire, vampire hypnosis, and a camera crew.

All the same ideas exist from movie to show, just presented differently.

Guillermo, the familiar turned vampire hunter turned bodyguard turned vampire turned back to human, is a combination of the movie’s familiar and vampire Hunter roles. I believe he’s also the love interest, Katherine.

I think the show, while becoming it’s own thing entirely, has a deep connection to the movie. I think they’ve been trying to follow viago’s love interest storyline since the show switched hands from Taika and Jemaine to Paul Simms.

While probably not known to most, Paul was instrumental in bringing the show over to the States, having helped to fund it.

He was already in the world of Shadows, and while I haven’t agreed on the way he’s said things and some direction the show had taken (season 4 had some growing pains), I do believe he’s understood the heart of the show.

Which is why I think they took such a dramatic shift in season 4 to tell and show the audience that Nandor doesn’t want to just date, but to really have a life or afterlife partner. That season had two “coming outs”. Guillermo obviously coming out as gay, and Nandor coming out as pansexual before he was turned.

I think this distinction was really important to build their romantic dynamic. They wanted to show Nandor’s interest in Guillermo wasn’t attributed to just horny vampireness, but actual true love and affection for him.

And having Guillermo formally come out as gay was more than just the Freddie gag (or the purpose of Guillermo having a boyfriend so that Nandor sleeps with him causing Guillermo to get upset about it which encourages Guillermo to take vampire turning into his own hands, leading to the events in season 5), but to show the audience that Guillermo’s not just a hero worshipper of his boss. He could very well have a crush that could become something more.

And while Simms’ execution of Nandermo so far has not been executed perfectly, (mostly because I think his version of Shadows uses jokes to cover or masque serious moments whereas Jemaine’s comedy often highlights and exposes the truth about life in funny situations), I think Paul’s vision is headed in the right direction.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Guillermo has a far larger familiar role than the one in the movie. Storytelling wise, it’s expected that Guillermo’s ending will solve the lingering vampire question that was halfway resolved in season 5. Because the show is telling the audience, “Wait. There’s more.” There’s more change to be had. I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that a part of Nandor’s arc is finding love. And part of his ending will have to be resolving this, as well.

And funny enough, Viago’s ending resolves both of these issues. He finds love with Katherine again and turns her into a vampire, but she got to have a full life first. There’s comedy there (he’s still older than her even though they don’t look it) but also there’s heart. She got to have a full life and agency of her own instead of being robbed of it.

I think Paul wants to set up this ending because it’s funny but also, to highlight his appreciation to the original. We expected from the jump that Nandor would turn Guillermo eventually and we can’t just have that without growth and change and conflict in between. It’s nice to get everything we want, but that’s not what sitcoms do. Sitcoms subvert expectations, and Paul is highly versed in sitcom structure. (Something that I think even Jemaine and Taika had to learn. )

Paul Simms’ isn’t just a writer in the room, he is a writer familiar (haha insert lame reference joke here) with the source material in a sitcom format. The movie wasn’t a sitcom. They could resolve Viago’s relationship because movies resolve arcs at the end of the movie.

Sitcoms don’t resolve anything at the end of an episode or even the end of a season. They resolve them at the end of the show. He knows Nandermo would end the show, because when characters get what they want (whatever their aspirations are) it completes the narrative. In sitcoms, the characters wants drive the purpose of the show.

And all good sitcoms don’t immediately give you (the audience) what you want until the end. And yes it can be frustrating, but when done right, the payoff is worth it. When the arcs are finished, the story ends. Even in sitcoms and comedy shows. So, Guillermo and Nandor being together and Nandor even eventually turning Guillermo, would have to be arc finishers. That would end the show. Which is why I think s6 is ending here, because the lead (Nandor) finished his arc.

Now whether that means Nandor will turn Guillermo on screen or not is yet to be seen. Maybe at some point down the road when Guillermo’s family is much older or have moved on from this earth and maybe when there is a new way to be a vampire without blood, Guillermo will be ready.

#what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows 2014 #shadows movie #wwdits #wwdits s5 #WWDITS s6 #WWDITS theories #nandermo #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #viago wwdits #viago von dorna schmarten scheden heimburg #viago what we do in the shadows #wwdits spoilers

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eyesxxyou · 1 year

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Backstage Show Pt.6

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 5.5k

synopsis. it's been a long time since you and Hobie last saw each other. after he invites you to his next concert, despite better judgement, you go. you know yourself, you always fall into old habits

you and hobie get back together

🍒・．❕warnings. she's a long one, smut with LOTS of plot, fingering, hand riding, sloppy kissing, save a horse ride a cowboy, love making, a lot of references to other parts, angst, lots of angsy, a healthy(er) relationship, reader has more control than before

You and Hobie haven’t spoken in months. You imagined it was all too easy for him to pretend you never existed, that this was how all his relationships inevitably ended, unceremoniously without even a text to apologize for everything said in the worst of your moments. You were absolutely torn, terribly upset, and horrifically furious when he still used your picture on his album cover, the picture of you with his thumb in your mouth, only your lower face visible to his audience. It was like some sick wink at you. He knew you’d see the cover, knew that you’d know it was you. You two were probably the only two people in the world who knew.

Fuck him. He could fall off a building for all you cared. You didn’t need him. It seemed almost impossible to think that you were once obsessed with him, that you would have once kiss the ground he walked on and done the most heinous things for him.

Nearly half a year and you were beginning to forget what he looked like, what he smelled like, the smallest details about him. You were eternally grateful for it and unquestionably sad over it. Your sheets no longer smelt like him, the last remnant of him in your home. It was almost as if he never existed in the first place, how little he left around. He made it so easy for himself to disappear.

And he did disappear for a while. From your life and your mind.

Until he was back to touring in your location.

You weren’t going to the show. You never even listened to the new album affectionately named “Doll” after the title track on the 12 track list. You could only imagine what that was about, that and the rest of his tracks. You'd never know. You never would listen to it. You never bought a copy.

You got off of your shift with a sigh and made your way down the the bar near your job to grab a drink. It was Friday, you were able to get the weekend off, and you needed to be drunk the entire time. Mary Jane fans were swarming the streets and you couldn't stand any of them. You wondered which of them was Hobie's new plaything. When would they realize he would never love them even a fraction of the way they worshiped him?

Poor thing. Whoever they were, they were on the fast track to getting their heard broken.

You pushed open the door to your usual bar and found it roudier than usual. You managed to wiggle your way to the counter before you saw him. He was sitting out with his chair leaned back, his feet kicked up on the table, and a nice pint of frothing beer in his hand. He was smiling at some fan who had approached, wanting autographs. He was very obviously flirting with them until his eye caught yours slightly behind them. His smile faltered a bit as you whipped around and hid your face behind your hands.

He was more gorgeous than you remembered, fucking breathtaking. You never realized how much you would miss the individual features of his face. His golden eyes, his nose, his lips, his hair. You hoped he hadn't seen you, that you could get your drink and mind your own. But of course he had and of course he felt the need to come up to you.

"Y/n? Y/n, is tha' you?" You could hear a distance away and swiftly you asked the bartender for a kamikaze. This would be a long night. There was no getting away from him now. He was already making his way to you, lightly pushing people to the side to get to you.

Hobie sidled up beside you on the stool to your left, his knees on either side of your body. "How ya doin', doll?" His voice was so smooth and gentle in your ear you could just melt into him, profess how much you missed him all this time, beg for the two of you to go back to the way you were. But you refused to cave, refused to be so weak.

You didn't answer him. The bartender came back with your drink and you thanked her with a smile and a nod. You were no not talking mood, especially not with him.

Hobie's been missing you a lot. Things didn't feel the same without you around. Things didn't feel right. He felt a bit uneasy going on stage, the energy before and after wasn't exactly the same. He drank a little more, slept a little less, haunted over the way things ended. He thought he'd never see you again. The world was too large for something like that.

But here you two were. And you weren't talking to him. Why would you? You had confessed your love to him and he had squeezed your heart til it exploded in the palm of his hands. There was absolutely no reason in the world why you would talk to him.

"Still mad at me, luv?"

Something about his tone of voice made you upset, like he was telling you to get over it, what's past is past and it shouldn't bother you anymore. You finally looked at him, your lip twitching with disdain. "Why are you here, Hobart?"

"Oh, the government name." He placed a hand on his chest to feign hurt but the way you were acting did hurt him. It was deserved, more than deserved, so he took it as it was. "I'm here on tour. It's the night before our concert. We're jus' celebrating." He nodded over to his mates, all of them distracted by fans of their own. They hardly even noticed Hobie left them.

"I ain't think I'd run into ya. I though' I'd have ta hunt'cha down, luv. I need to talk to ya." He timidly placed a hand on top of yours. You needed something far stronger than a kamikaze. You needed straight vodka shots.

You pulled your hand from his, subsequently pulling your heart away and locking it up behind your ribcage despite the way it pulled and leaped for him. It's hard not to be in love even after months of never seeing him. But you wouldn't open yourself to getting hurt again. You might be in love but you're not gonna be dumb about it. "There's nothing for us to talk about. You made everything very clear the last time we spoke." Why aren't you punching him in the face? Why aren't you leaving? Why aren't you cursing him out? All of them are valid reactions. "I'm not gonna be an easy fuck for you."

"Just give it a chance, luv. Give me a chance. I really just wanna talk, nothin' else. I think with the way we left tings off wasn't the greatest–"

"Ya think?" You downed the rest of your drink and flinched at the sharp sting at the back of your throat. You motioned for some shots to the bartender and mouthed vodka while Hobie continued.

"I just wanna make tings right, dove." There was something very soft and genuine in his voice. He just wanted to give the both of you closure. You were done with him and that was okay, just as long as you knew the truth. "How about you come to the concert tomorrow? We'll talk after. Free admission."

You stared at him, gaze softening just a bit. How tender and palpable you could turn for him, like putty in his hands. With just a soft tone and a pleading gaze and you folded. "Fine. I'll go to your concert. We'll talk but I don't want to do anything, Hobie. I don't wanna feel like you're plaything again."

Hobie raised his hands in surrender. "I won't even touch you, luv. I'll never make you do something you don't wanna." It's true. He never made you do anything you weren't down for. And you were down for anything involving him.

Hobie rolled his lips, buying the bottom one to hide a grin. He stood up and dropped 40 pounds to pay for your drinks and a couple more if you chose to have any. "Have a good nigh', luv. I'll see ya tomorrow."

You huffed in response. It took everything in you to not turn to watch him walk away. You didn't want to stay any longer. You couldn't stand the thought of being in a room with him, pretending his was there when you were acutely aware of his existence staring holes into your skull.

You used the money to pay for your drinks and left the rest as a tip to the bartender before takinging your leave. You had to be rested for tomorrow.

—

Hobie ended up getting you tickets for the pit closest to the stage. The asshole. You stood squeezed between two fans screaming Hobie's name, dressed in gaze-attracting outfits. They screamed their heads off the moment they saw him and the other Mary Janes come out on stage, hoping to get his valuable attention. Your lips were sealed but your heart swelled seeing him where he was his very best. He was so beautiful, the stage lights casting down upon him from behind. He looked like an angel but you knew better.

His eyes searched the crowd for you and once his gaze landed upon your figure getting pushed around by fans trying to push their way to the front, he smiled. "How's everyone doin' t'nigh'?" Hobie kept looking at you, like he meant to be asking you specifically. You turned your head away, playing with your nails to show you weren't interested.

"Aww, don' be shy, a lil' louda." And the crowd responded with all their lungs could handle but all he wanted was to hear from you. All he needed was you.

"I've got someone special ina crowd t'nigh'. I wanna make sure tonight's a good show for them. So please, luvs, be nice to each otha t'nigh'." He knew you didn't want to be here, it was basic etiquette. Who wanted to be shoved around all night?

They started playing some of their new songs you've never heard before and suddenly you remembered why you loved them so much. They were all so mesmerizing on stage, their lyrics made you want to move, to jump around to close your eyes and feel the chaotic rhythm.

But as you listened, you realized a little more that the lyrics were about you and Hobie. To anyone else, it was just about two people who were in love but never meant to be together. It was a progression of events across the album, each song about different aspects of your relationship. "Worship" was about how much one worshiped the other to the point that it killed them. "How We Cave" was the end, about how they fell apart, all of it cleverly hidden within the folds of the song so that no one batted an eyelash.

The entire album was a wink and nudge to you, between the two of you. "Only we have to know" it said and you despised how much it meant to you. You needed to get out of here. Suddenly the entire venue felt as though it was crushing you, crashing down on your head.

You writhed and wiggled your way between people to make your way to the nearest exit. When you got outside, you took a deep breath, your exhale a cloudy haze before your lips under the cold air. You shuddered, reached into your pocket, and lit up a joint. You needed it, deserved it.

How he changed you, molded you into a person unrecognizable to your younger self. You had never been a smoker, never been much of a drinker, not before you met Hobie and he changed who you were so intrinsically. You never knew if it was a good thing or a bad one.

You knew the concert was over when people began funneling out, talking amongst themselves about who this new, special guest was. You pushed yourself off to the side and took a long drag of your joint, leaving strawberry lipgloss that you could taste with every drag. You wandered around the side of the building until you found the back entrance where Hobie told you to wait if the two of you managed to lose each other.

He came out about 10 minutes later, looking left and right until his eyes landed upon you. "Sorry, some fans wit' backstage passes I was meetin'. The boys are entertainin'em now." He excused himself, hopping over the guardrailing to get to you. "Since when did you smoke?"

"Take a wild guess." You took another drag before Hobie took it from you and took one himself. He loved the taste of you on it, took another drag because of it. "My bad, luv." He came and leaned against the wall beside you, his leather jacket the only thing protecting him from the cold. You weren't much better off either, dresses in an outfit similar to when you first met, you shivered from time to time while smoking with him.

"I saw you leave." He hummed and passed the joint back to you.

"Doubt I missed anything crazy. You were almost done anyway."

"The fuckin' Queen's ghost came on stage 'n did a backflip." Hobie countered, looking down at you with eyes that told you he was serious. His expression fell way into one of humor when you giggled and tossed your head back against the brick wall. "You're so stupid."

"I so am."

You didn't like how serious the undertones of his voice sounded. You didn't look at him, just smoked your joint to a bud before dropping it and putting it out under your boot. "I wanna go home."

Hobie stood from his position and offered out a hand to you. "Then lemme walk you." You looked at him, then his hand, and with a scoff, walked right past him. But you didn't tell him no, so he went right with you. You never said no to him along the way to your flat only a couple blocks away.

It was like the two of you were scared to talk about what you really wanted to. The way you two left off. Anyone looking at you would have said you were friends, not ex-lovers. And you weren't even that technically. You two laughed together, walked together without a single touch shared but all the longing glances of two people wanting to get back together after so many months.

And when you reached your flat, you turned and looked at Hobie and his massive height head on. "You can't come inside."

"I can't or you don't want me to?" He countered again because he knew you too well. You shoved him softly and he didn't even move. "Both. I know myself." If he comes in, you'll have sex, you'll wake up, and he won't be there. You would have let him in just to get hurt again.

"I told you, I won' touch ya, luv. I haven' yet, have I?" He was right, the only time he tried, he gave you the option to take his hand and you had refused, renewing your agreement that he would not be the one to initiate anything between the two of you. "We still haven' spoken. I don't think ya wan' everyone on the street to know our business, yeah?"

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked around. Finally, you looked for your keys to the front door and when you found it, you unlocked it. Hobie knew to be quiet as to disturb your neighbors and he surprisingly was considering his size. You knew where the stairs freaked and he followed your moves. Most of your neighbors were older people and that they'd have no qualms reporting you to your landlord.

When you finally reached your flat, you unlocked the door and let him in.

Your flat looked mostly if not entirely the same. Hobie smiled. "Good memories in here." He looked back at you with sparkling eyes. You closed the door. "Yeah, yeah, Hobie. Come on, we came in here to talk." You didn't want any of his bullshit anymore. You needed closure or you'd go crazy. Barely getting through the day without crying and throwing things was no way to live your life. Drinking and smoking all the time wasn't much greater either. You both were a mess.

"Yeah, yeah, we did." His playful attitude faltered as he crossed his long arms loosely over his chest and looked at his boots. "Look, 'm sorry, y/n. 'm sorry for all of it. You never deserved the way I treated you, you never deserved what I said to you."

You sat, you listened, you let him talk, your lips pulling to the side as you attempted to hold back swelling tears.

"I know I was wrong. I know. And I regret it everyday for the way I hurt you. We just…one, we shouldn't've had a conversation like tha' at a time like tha'. But I'm–" he paused for a moment, looking for the words. "I wasn't lying when I said I'm not someone you want to love. I am someone that no one has ever loved, doll. They have always left me because of who I am."

"But I'm not everyone else, Hobes. You can't decide for me who I'm gonna love." You interjected, a bit tearful. The situation frustrated you to tears and you felt a bit ridiculous for crying but Hobie didn't care, he reached out and wiped the fresh tears from your face. "Ya right. I should've let you make that decision yaself and 'm sorry for tha', luv. I was jus' scared."

"Scared? Scared of what, Hobie?" You croaked out, looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes of yours that he adored so much, that he thought of in the darkest part of the night to keep him going.

He closed his eyes because he couldn't bear to look into your gaze. "I was afraid you would leave me one day because what would I do withou'cha by my side, luv. I was scared because I loved ya too and I knew I didn't deserve ya and one day you'd figure tha' ou' too."

He was scared to look at you, scared that it may ruin the moment to know how you were feeling about all of this. If only he knew him hard you fell for him again. Maybe the two of you weren't right for each other. Maybe whatever high power never ordained for you to be together. But fuck that higher power.

Hobie felt the weight of your lips ease against his and immediately took you in to him. He's been waiting to kiss you since the moment he first saw you but he promise he wouldn't touch you, not unless you touched him first.

Your hands reached up and caressed his face with your soft palms. His hand timidly came to your hips, waiting for you to writhe from him hold but you don't, you lean into him, standing on your toes to reach his lips better. You still taste like fruits and he hopes that your nether lips taste the same.

"I want you." You murmured against his lips in a daze of lust. "I want you right here, please." You kissed him harder pushing him back onto your couch before clamoring onto his lap with your legs straddling him. Hobie pulled you close, so close until your body pressed against his chest, rolling like waves under the exploring nature of his hands.

Your hands pulled at each other's clothes, removing shirts, tugging at the buttons of pants, a bra was tossed over your shoulder by you don't know who's hand. You wanted him completely naked, completely vulnerable to you for the first time and he wanted you the same.

Removing each other's clothes, you got up and stumbled clumsily to your bedroom where, by the time you got there, the two of you stood naked, embracing each other while you kissed. You had Hobie on the bed in seconds, still on top of him while you kissed hickeys down his neck. His hand slid down the soft skin of your naval, sliding between your supple legs to touch the slick nether lips of your pussy. He slid his middle finger between your folds and groaned softly. "Are you this wet all the time?"

"Only for you." You rocked your hips softly against his hand, shuddering as he curled his finger and let it slide into the wetness of your entrance. It was so easy to add another finger into you, and with enough working from his middle and index, scissoring you open while rubbing that sensitive ridge you've got inside you, he managed to add a third.

"Ahh– shit…Hobie." You rode his fingers, your hands holding his head where his jaw and neck met. You kept your eyes on his, your foreheads pressed against one another. "Keep goin', luv. Take wha'cha need."

You liked the warmth of his skin against yours. Two humans in love sharing in the taking of each other's bodies. Your teeth met his skin, nipping, biting, the salty remnants of sweat from performing still on his skin. He smells like weed, looks like heaven, and tastes like love. His palm worked against your clit while his fingers stretched you open in preparation for his size, which you haven't taken in a long while. You could feel it resting against your stomach, aching, smearing precum across your naval. You wanted it inside you in any way you could have him. But it seemed that he was intent on making you cum hon his hand first.

"Mmmh~ Ion wanna cum yet." You told him still rutting your hips against his hand. "I wanna cum with you." You wanted out, biting your lower lip as you whimpered. "I want your cock. Please lemme have it, Hobes. Please." You offered him puppy dog eyes like he wasn't already willing to give you everything you wanted and the world on top of it.

"Cummin' twice never hurt nobody." Hobie used his free hand to lift your head and make you face him again. "Jus' look a' me wit' those pretty eyes, luv. Can you do tha' for me?" He let his hand drop to your hip and felt the way you moved under the weight of his palm, desperate for a climax long denied to you for months. You nodded with wet, pouty lips and those pretty eyes.

Yoru walls clamped down upon his fingers as your ground your hips down hard and whimpered with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Just keep–” You tilted your hips to rub your clit a little more against the heel of his palm. You bit your lip and held him tighter as you rocked to the sway of your climax washing over you gently. Your body paused and you pressed your lips to Hobie’s to stifle your moan so you wouldn’t wake the neighbors. “Fuck– Hobie!”

Your tongues pressed against each other, your kiss sloppy and passionate, full of lust melting back into love. It was dark in your room, hard to see anything all you two had were your unadjusted eyes and the intimacy of touch to guide your way. Hobie laid back on your bed with his head in your pillows. Your scent surrounded him and he was in heaven as you climbed further up on top of him and grasped the length of his cock tenderly.

He let you do what you needed to do, sighing with perfect content as you dragged the tip of his cock between your wet folds. “Go slow, dove. I wanna feel ya.” He told you, shivering as your positioned him against your soaked entrance and sank down until your warm walls enveloped his fat tip. From there, you braced your hands upon his chest and did as told, slowly sinking down upon him, his cock spreading you further than you remembered.

You watched the way Hobie writhed beneath you, his hands gripping up and down your hips and thighs. “Fuck, y/n. Oh my…” He missed this so much, he missed you, this pretty, tight, warm cunt he dreamed about at night. All the toys he’s gotten in an attempt to replicate you, all of it in vain. He almost whined for you, biting his lip to contain something of a whimper. He wished he could se the way your folds parted for him or the way your hole stretched and struggled to contain him.

You liked the sight of him struggling to control himself. There was an overwhelming sense of power you felt you had over him for the first time in you entire fucked up situationship. His grip left bruises in your skin, tighter and tighter as you lifted yourself to the very tip of his member before pushing yourself back down, sheathing his cock completely, He made space for himself inside you, you walls melding to his exact length and girth. You had almost forgotten how good he felt, how he kissed your cervix so tenderly and pressed against sensitive spots you could never reach on your own.

"God, doll. Ya know wha'cha doin' t'me?" His hands find purchase on your hips, weakly following your movements as he watches the outline of your silhouette in amazement. The bed creaks a little with your movements, your moans mingle with the wet sounds of his pushing his cock into you, it's heaven in a single bedroom and you never want to go back to Earth.

Hobie lifted his knees and propped himself up, his hands gripping your hips a little harder so he could have his moment of control. He thrusted up into you, conjuring a breathless gasp from you as you gripped his shoulders for support. Your back arched as he fucked you, abused your cunt a little harder than you were used to over these past couple of months. You but your lip to contain the onslaught of moans you had to offer him, only letting out soft cries and whimpers to satiate his hunger to hear you.

You let him fuck into you, nice and rough, a position only those gifted in his department could pull off. You leaned down, pressed your body to his, laid on top of him with your back arched. You moaned into his neck, nosing at the angle of his jaw. Your hips flicked to meet the thrust of his hips. "H-Hobieeee." You squealed for him and he adored it, the way you dragged out his name like you wanted to hold it in your mouth for longer.

You stretched like a cat on top of him, you hands grasping at the pillow on either side of his head, scratching at the head post. You kept your face against his throat to hide your moans so only he could hear but they were so loud you had to bury your face in the crook of his neck and bite down to muffle them.

It was like he was tearing you apart, his large hands spreading you wide, his full lips muttering obscenities along the lines of his good you felt around him. So soft, so silky, so wet, so good.

When you kissed, it was not a kiss. It was just the parts, a sloppy meeting of tongues, teeth, and lips, all tangled up and touching on another. It was broken down by lust fueled by love, by the warmth of heated skin, by the kindness one human offers to another. He paused his hips to slide his hands up to hold your head with his fingers tangled in your hair.

"I love you, I love you, IloveyouIloveyou." You groaned against his lips at first before babbling it out like you couldn't hold it in you much longer. You needed it out, in the air. You hips rutted, you pussy leaving his cock soaked as you dripped. Your clit rubbed against his hair-covered pelvis and you shivered with pleasure. "Please, don't stop."

Hobie chuckled a little and you fed on it like you've never known any other substance. "I love you too, dove. 'N I wanna see you fuck me. Give me a show. Jus' f'me this time." This whole time, you've been giving shows to other people, now he wants you just to himself.

You sat back up, your hands against his stomach, scratching lightly as you rocked your hips. Hobie watched the way your body moved, hypnotized by the way you rolled and danced. You bounced on his cock, each one met with a lazy thrust into you.

You closed your eyes and tossed your head back, your mouth slightly ajar. You let the pleasure take you, you felt every thrust of his cock inside you, every point of pleasure it touched, the way your greedy, swollen clit rubbed against his pelvic bone, his hands on your hips, sliding up and down your thighs to coax you to continue. You loved his light voice, "you go' i', baby. Keep goin', jus' like tha'. My lovely, looks so pretty." His voice strained with each word, the beginnings of an orgasm making themselves known in his throat.

You shuddered, pussy trembling with your own climax. "I wanna cum together, Hobie. Please." You pleaded with him, looking back down at his fucked out expression trying to hold on to some cohesiveness. His muscles tightened as you fucked him harder, bringing yourself all the way up to the tip of his cock before coming down with a loud clap.

"Wha'eva you wan', lovely. I'll do wha'eva you wan'." He'll be whatever you want to. He just needs you in every way he can have you, for as long as he can have you. "You keep goin' like this 'n 'm gonna cum inside this gorgeous cunt of ya's."

You moaned at the thought of his cum filling you up, taking up the space his cock once did. "Do it, do it, please." You were just on the edge of your orgasm and he could tell. The way your walls clamped around him told everything and each movement brought him closer as well.

It was a simultaneous reaction. It took you both at once. Your moans were louder than before, mingling together embracing each other as your pussy quivered and milked his cock just the way he needed to shoot ribbons of cum right against your cervix and coat your walls in white. There was just so much of it and you continued to ride him, earning a few whimpers from Hobie as you milked him nice and thoroughly. To the point that his cum leaked through the tight seal his cock made with your entrance and dribbled down the underside of his cock and down his balls.

You felt so warm, so full. You fell on top of him, let him wrap his arms around you as you took in his scent so intrinsically his. You missed him so much, missed the feel of his sweaty skin against yours, missed the sound of his labored breath in your ear, then his chuckle he inevitably did at some point. You shook with his chest, rocking your hips a little to feel the comfort of his softening cock inside you.

"What's so funny?" You asked, drawing imaginary shapes against his chest in the dark.

"Really slutted me out in the end there. 've neva whimpered before." He laughed again, tossing a arm over his face to hide his embarrassment. You were laughing with him, a smile half pressed into his chest. "We could do it again."

There was a long stretch of silence as your laugher faded together and you sat there with him still inside you and his cum leaking out in globs, creating a mess between the both of you. There was so much you two needed to say, so many conversations you needed to have, but you narrowed it down in 8 words.

"I missed ya, luv." Hobie began.

"I missed you too." He'd never know how much hearing those words from his pierced lips would make your heart soar. The fact that he said it first, even more so.

"Remember tha' shower you was talkin' 'bout?"

You thought back to that moment of embarrassment for you when you had invited him to shower with you and he had refused. "How could I forget?" Even thinking about it now made your cheeks ache as blood rushed to them.

Hobie shifted a little beneath you. "I wanna take it now." A smile began to creep up onto your face and now your cheeks burned for another reason.

"Let's go take it then."

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