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cinnamonest · 4 months ago

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In desperate need of older reader content

:(((

//Big age gap with ambiguously aged teenage boys, cheating on NPC husband, dubcon (reader is kinda consenting for once lmao but the first time is questionable in how it begins)

I've had this modern AU idea rotting in my brain for AGES anon, I hesitated to make it but you’ve given me courage, bless you anon

Consider Xingqiu + Chongyun and the sweet older lady that lives in the neighborhood… a neglected housewife with a husband who’s always absent, always on “work trips” and being generally suspicious and never pays you any attention…

You have the typical boys-next-door of the neighborhood — well, they're not actually right next door, one lives a few houses down, the other in that fancy rich neighborhood adjacent to yours — but the two come around your house quite a lot. It's kind of sweet how you've gotten to watch them grow up, you remember when they were very little, running by your house with bikes or kites or whatever they were playing with, and watch them slowly get bigger and older, hear their distant voices chattering get deeper and lower over time.

Sometimes you wave, they wave back.

They come to recognize you. They pass by when you're doing yardwork. You exchange a hey, boys! with a mutually enthusiastic hi miss!, and occasionally, you tell them to be safe because it's supposed to rain soon or because it's getting dark, met with a don't worry, we will! reassurance of some kind.

They're so cute, so endearing. You go out of your way to say hi each time you see them.

Eventually, you finally have a direct, up-close interaction — it's a particularly hot day, you call out to them to ask if they want something cold to drink, and they gladly take you up on the offer.

They're so cute, you think. Teenagers now, bright-eyed and full of that youthful sort of excitement and bliss, not yet old enough to be worn down by the difficulties or mundaneness of life nor have a damper put on their overly-positive outlook on life and the world. You find yourself smiling as you ask them questions about school and what they like to do and their plans for the future and they respond gushing with visible excitement and energy.

And then, they swing by the next day, sheepishly making their way up to you to ask if you have any more. You laugh and smile and tell them of course.

The same thing happens the next day, and the next day. You go out of your way to get some teen-boy-approved type of snacks the next time you go grocery shopping, which end up rapidly disappearing from your fridge and pantry.

You learn them, their similarities and differences, their interests and strengths. Xingqiu is more the academic type, Chongyun is more involved in athletics. You listen to them excitedly ramble about the “important” things going on in their lives, high-school level drama and such, the sort that seems to be of a much greater significance and weight to kids their age, who have no frame of reference for anything more serious than that. You give exaggerated reactions of awe and pride when they boast about their achievements, and it does warm your heart to see that that always makes them more excited to keep going on about it.

With that, you develop a very… wholesome sort of relationship. They start coming by more often.

And more and more often. Nearly each day. It's a very strange situation, yet it just feels natural because you get accustomed to it — instead of going back to their own homes, they head to your place right after they're let out from school. You feed them (they're teenage boys, they're eating more in one sitting than you do in an entire day), talk to them, you've even helped with homework every now and then, for subjects you're knowledgeable in. They seem to really love coming over to your house, and, well, you're often very lonely, and you appreciate them as well.

The neighbors have all seen them going to your place each day, some of them jokingly ask how “your boys” are doing. It’s endearing, really, and always makes you smile.

You know it's not exactly normal, but at the same time, if they trust you and depend on you and cling to you so much, they must not have another source for that — from what they've said, both have very busy and/or somewhat emotionally distant parents, which makes you feel bad for them, tugs at your heart, makes you feel like you should be sure to be there for them and be available when they need you. Like you have a responsibility to be there.

Which leads to you taking on perhaps an even greater role of keeping tabs on them, being responsible for them. You even get a call from the school once when one gets sick, asking you to come pick him up, which he thanks you for repeatedly, but still doesn't seem to treat the matter as quite as unusual as you feel it is. Regardless, you find yourself taking him to your house to recover rather than his own, at his own request.

They're almost a little too comfortable, but it's more comical to you than anything — they reach a point where now, they just come sauntering into your house after school, backpacks dumped onto the floor and flopping onto your couch as if it were their own house. One time when you were home alone, you went out to get groceries, only to nearly have a heart attack when greeted with a hello! as soon as you stepped through your front door when you came back. Turns out they figured out you keep a spare key under the welcome mat… they help you put the groceries away, though. Such sweet boys.

Yes, they’re sweet, helpful, bright-eyed, energetic… even if sometimes, they get a little strange.

Nothing that isn't standard teen boy stuff, though, you tell yourself. You find evidence of their presence in oddly private areas of your home — your bedroom door hanging open when you're pretty sure you shut it earlier, an open drawer, missing clothes, so on and so on.

It's odd, but you don't exactly know how to really go about confronting them, the idea feels awkward and uncomfortable. Not to mention, doubt and paranoia cloud your reasoning — what if there's a perfectly legitimate reason, and then you ruin things by making false accusations? What if you're imagining it? You ultimately decide to try and shake off the creeping feeling of something being wrong.

Worst case scenario, they're being… weird. But teenage boys are like that, aren't they? Raging hormones and all. It's a little unpleasant, but you're sure they'll mature out of such behaviors, if that really is the case. It's nothing too serious.

And then they start getting touchy.

When they help you carry things in (so sweet of them, isn’t it?), you notice that over time, they grow comfortable with your arms and hands brushing against each other. They stand closer to you when leaning over to see what you’re making whenever you’re running around in the kitchen (of course, usually accompanied by asking if it's for them or if they can have some), shoulders bumping against yours. They scoot their chair much closer to yours when you’re helping them with their homework, eventually to where your thighs touch.

Waving goodbye when they go home at the end of the day turns into big hugs. Both of them do so in a way that you just can't shake the feeling of being somehow wrong. Xingqiu pulls your chest against his perhaps just a bit too firmly. Chongyun holds his hands lower down on your back than you feel comfortable with. But then they both flash you such sweet smiles and promise to see you later, and your momentary concerns feel trivial.

Your naive belief in their innocence begins to fall apart, though, because Chongyun is significantly less skilled at keeping up feigned ignorance.

The idea that you were being paranoid, or imagining things, quickly begins to fade from your mind when you notice how blatantly sheepish he begins to become as time goes by. He stops looking you in the eye, stammers and fidgets and squirms when trying to speak to you. As if feeling guilty, as if having done something wrong.

Xingqiu is much better at it — almost scarily so. If it were just him, you'd never notice a thing, and you’re not sure how to feel about that realization. You’re pretty sure he could do something right in front of you and then convince you you did it instead, with how flawlessly he can change his tone and expressions and answer questions in ways that not only fail to answer, but give the impression of an answer, then distract away to another topic before you can even think enough to realize what a non-answer the response he gives is.

You only caught onto it one time, and then when you started to think back, you realized how many times he’s done the exact same thing in the past, all without you ever realizing… those rich business families must have some kind of genetic predisposition to conversation manipulation. Still, it’s nothing malicious, he didn’t do anything wrong, you’re pretty sure at least… he just seems to steer away from anything having to do with the odd occurrences of things that go missing or were different from how you left them.

Still, it reaches a point where you really can’t delude yourself.

But it's nothing serious. It's not enough to warrant saying anything. That’s what you tell yourself.

Because if it were that serious, you’d have to say something. And if you say something, well, that’s… hard. Awkward. Difficult to summon the gall for, especially towards two young, innocent boys who have never done anything really bad to you, who have always been so helpful and sweet, who are just being the way boys that age are, right? It’s ultimately harmless.

You’d ruin things between you all, you’d hurt them. You can’t have that. They’re too precious. They keep you company, they help you out, you’ve gotten so used to their presence in your life, you can’t have that ruined. Thus, you say nothing. Yes, it’s all just normal, it’s no big deal. Soon enough they’ll start getting involved with girls their age anyway, and stop messing with you so much.

Except there's one more issue... that thing where they seem to really not like your husband.

The moment he comes up, they both take a negative attitude. Granted, one day you do end up more or less breaking down as you find yourself venting and lamenting your miserable marriage — how he’s never home, how he’s always doing suspicious things that hurt your heart, how he never treats you to anything, never remembers anniversaries or birthdays, never says anything nice to you… you only pause and start stammering apologies when you notice how quiet they both get, but they insist it’s fine, and follow up by muttering about how you deserve better… you smile and pat their heads.

You really meant the whole thing as mere venting, so it makes you feel bad when, seeing as your birthday falls very shortly after that conversation, they both get you things on said birthday. Chongyun’s is something he made himself, albeit on a very low budget, Xingqiu’s is the inverse, some piece of jewelry that’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever owned… and they remembered even when your husband didn’t. It makes you feel guilty, like maybe you baited them by inducing their pity, but they both seem so happy to give you something, and even when you say they didn’t have to do that, they insist they wanted to… maybe it’s alright, then. They were already sweet to you too, of course, but you notice that they give you compliments and such more frequently too.

Regardless, you notice that even before your complaining, they both sort of scowl when your husband is mentioned, even more so after you reveal the rocky state of your marriage. There’s an unmistakable resentment in some comments they make — you start talking about how you’re worried that you spent too much on groceries and will make him mad, to which you get a scoff and a ‘well who cares what he thinks?’, or, when you’re worried the house isn’t presentable enough for your husband coming home, you get a shrug and mutter, ‘he can just deal with it…’

Your husband doesn’t exactly care for them either. You mention it to him because you feel you should, although apparently neighbors already informed him of the matter. You get a few gruff comments about how bizarre and inappropriate it is that you’re letting two teen boys just sit around in your house. Every now and then, you get snapped at in irritation about a piece of a wrapper left on the sofa or a pencil left on the table, how it’s because you let those damn teenagers stay in your house, how you’re draining his hard-earned money on feeding them, so on and so on.

They only actually interact once, seeing as the man gets home so late each day that it’s usually long after both boys have left for the day, but one time their presence does overlap — it’s very awkward. You didn’t hear the car pull up to the house, so when he comes walking in, the two boys quickly get their things together and scurry out the door, all without exchanging a word, although the tension and glaring is palpable. You’re reminded that he tolerates you having them there, and that he had better not come home to find them in his house so late again. You nod your head — but you still let them stay fairly long each day… now they make no attempt to hide their disgust each time you mention your spouse.

Their increasing negativity towards him, their increasing affection towards you — there’s a sort of tension that builds over time. Every party involved feels it, you’re certain, one of those things where everyone knows what’s happening and no one acknowledges it out loud.

By the time it happens, they're so comfortable that it's practically nonchalant, and for you, well, somehow you don’t feel particularly surprised. It feels more like something you knew was going to happen, but maybe pretended in the forefront of your mind that you didn’t know, that it wasn’t inevitable.

Likewise, it happens so quickly that you barely register anything as it happens, it doesn’t sink in as real until it’s too late and you’re already too far into it.

You don’t remember, afterwards, exactly what you were doing — were you helping them with homework at the kitchen table, or were you all watching a movie on your couch beforehand? You’re not sure. You only remember feeling an unusual palpable energy in the air, them looking back and forth at each other as if to confirm to move ahead with some premeditated plan. You remember that it was Chongyun that initiated it, to some extent—

I— I mean, we wanted to, uh, talk to you about something, and, ah…

He seems to lose his words halfway through, and sort of pathetically looks over at the other, as if silently begging for help, which is met with a sigh and a few back and forth comments as you stare on in bewilderment — that ‘no, you were supposed to do that part,’ or ‘no, YOU were supposed to do that,’ so on and so forth, until they both seem to just give up on whatever the plan was and go for it instead.

That’s where it becomes a bit of a blur. You don’t remember which one grabbed you first, which one’s mouth met yours first.

You think you said a few things to deter them, obligatory statements of how I can’t, I’m married and the other standard lines you’re supposed to say because you have some sense of guilt and honor, don't you? You have to deny them the first time, it's only right.

And yet, you’re pretty sure your resistance didn’t last long.

The reality of it all doesn’t sink in until you’re at the point where you can no longer bring yourself to care, too lost in excitement and ecstasy and basking in the feeling of being so intensely desired, until you’re on your knees with one in your mouth and one from behind (although later, you can’t recall which was which at first — they switched up a few times, you’re pretty sure). You don’t even remember how many times they came inside you, only that you felt some vague alarm the first time, but stopped caring soon after, letting yourself be bent over your couch and put on your knees on the floor, letting your mind melt away, focusing only on pleasure and longing and, in the back of your mind, a twinge of guilt knowing that maybe you knew this was what they wanted all along.

Good thing your husband was on another one of his business trips. You’re pretty sure he’d be furious to know you took them upstairs and continued all night long on his own bed thereafter, eventually all falling asleep there too, with you sandwiched in between… only to wake up and go at it again the next morning. It’s Saturday, after all, they have to fill their time with something other than school.

You have different sets of issues, after that day. You’re not worried about their affections being inappropriate — you’ve long since accepted that, now you’re just a little worried about how they keep pressuring you to divorce and move in with one of them (Xingqiu reminds you his family is very very wealthy, this in turn upsets Chongyun, who insists he’s trying to ‘win you over’ which is ‘unfair’ to him). You don’t worry about your missing clothes or their touches, those are no longer an issue… now your biggest concern is keeping their voracious sex drives at bay, which it turns out you severely underestimated, and you have TWO to deal with on top of that, practically getting pounded and plowed at every opportunity.

Then you have to worry about how virile they probably are… you’re not on birth control, seeing as your husband has demanded you have a kid. He might get one, even if not how he expected… and then you have to worry about giving both boys equal affection, lest you hurt one’s feelings or make them jealous… and then you have to worry about your poor weary body, which can barely keep up with them…

And, of course, you worry about the inevitable, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before things fall apart, one way or another. A matter of time before they decide to ‘deal with’ your husband — you heard them use that exact verbiage muttering to themselves, only for them to go silent once they saw you. A matter of time before they do something, and you get the feeling that you're not going to like whatever something is.

Yes, you know things can’t stay in this limbo forever… and that worries you, no matter how much you try to put it off and pretend things are fine and tell yourself you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it, only to find the bridge is growing closer with each day. After-school threesomes on a limited schedule can only keep them content for so long, especially when they've already started to push the limits of how long they can stay, how many times they can go, insisting you can get one more round in before your husband comes home.

At least you’re pretty sure no one else knows. The neighbors still ask you how “your boys” are, and seem to do so with endearment, with no trace of any concern or outrage or disgust.

You haven’t changed your answer in all the time they’ve asked — you always smile and say they’re doing just great. Perhaps that’s even more true now than it was before.

#.cy #.xq #tfw you give teen boys pizza rolls and accidentally raise their affection meter too high

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seat-safety-switch · 4 days ago

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Have you ever thought about how weird it is that you can buy pineapples at the grocery store? Someone pulled this shit off a tree tens of thousands of kilometers away, and then sent it to me. If I don't buy it, they'll just throw it in the trash.

Global trade is a really remarkable invention of our species. My neighbour's Hyundai was born in South Korea, shipped here on a boat, and will never see its mother or most of its siblings again. Even so, it was only slightly more expensive than a locally-made Ford. Sorry, did I say "locally-made?" That was also made in a different country and shipped here under duress. We don't even notice such a miracle unless we check the registration.

My Volare was sent here from The America, a country which has been going through some rough times lately. I figured that maybe it would want to go back and see Missouri, its land of creation, at least once. That Hyundai would never get the opportunity: who would bundle an Elantra into a steamer ship? Driving there, though, was basically feasible. Well, feasible for anyone who wasn't operating a badly-maintained, 47-year-old example of one of Mopar's shittiest cars.

You guessed it: I broke down at the end of my block. There is good news, though. A couple months ago, I found a bicycle clogging the sewage drain near my office, and I was able to bang it mostly straight with a hammer. Ever since then, I've been throwing it in the trunk, and using it to ride home whenever one of my cars leave me stranded. It's been great for my cardio, but more importantly, it was built here. Plans changed. Volare out, whatever this bicycle is "in." I rode it to the bike shop that assembled it, stopping periodically to ingest fried food, craft beer, and ice cream so as not to unnecessarily improve my health from over-exercise.

Unfortunately for everyone, when I got to the bike store, the snooty repair-shop crew considered my quest incomplete. They didn't make the bikes there, just threw them together. The frame and wheels had come from China, they explained, a big integrated factory that punches out the parts, spitting out thousands of proto-bikes per second without any form of human involvement. You'd have to get on a plane and take it to go visit the mothership in Guangdong.

Confronted with the choice to either abandon my quest or willingly board a Boeing product, I decided to take the safer route and return home. Perhaps it was foolish to try and figure out the maternal bonds of soulless, inanimate methods of transportation. Or perhaps I just picked the wrong kind of product, I decided, picking up an apple at the grocery store on my way home. Surely, this thing came from here, I thought right before I read the label.

As soon as I figure out where "Northern Spy" is, you'll be the first to know.

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 2 months ago

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Honey Cappuccino with Cinnamon

Kento Nanami x Barista! Reader SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY

You get a new patron in your cafe, a dashingly handsome, well mannered, well spoken, Kento Nanami.

wc: 13k, whoops

Content: Smut, Fluff, comfort, kind of a slow burn, kissing (ooooo!!), sex, brief fear/violence (but not sexual), small curse appearance, cunnalingus, reader is female, smoking, swearing no spit (r u guys proud or disappointed), bad ending

Ao3, Masterlist, Coffee headcannons. dont reproduce my work or post it anywhere else. i came up with it out of my head. Enjoy.

You loved your morning openings, most people would have preferred to sleep in, enjoy their mornings at home, take their time getting ready for the day, all while the sun was settled in the sky. But you loved waking up in the misty dark, walking in the clean, morning air, and setting up the cafe before the sun found its way out of bed. The hour and a half before the cafe opened felt like you were the only person in the entire world, total serenity. You could make your own coffee, just how you liked it, luxuriate in the smells of last night's prepped pastries baking to perfection in the oven, work at your own pace while listening to an audiobook or a playlist that you chose. It was the time you looked forward to most throughout the week; your perfect hour of bliss. Uninterrupted bliss.

The ringing of the door chime was your indicator to return to reality and remember that the cafe didn’t exist solely for your own personal enjoyment, but was in fact a buzzing success. From 6 AM opening to 7 PM closing the cafe would see anywhere between 300-700 customers a day. The large majority of them just stopped in, ordering, and leaving upon receiving their coffee and scone or whatever it was they wanted. A handful you saw nearly every day. You, of course, knew their names, you were a professional. But your first rung of memory was always their orders.

The gentleman that comes on his bike with his canvas backpack -- a double espresso with equal parts hot water to the espresso.

The woman who comes with her daughters every morning -- two blended caramel frappes for them, three shots of espresso over ice in a large cup for her. (she pours a protein shake over it and mixes it together. She’s been trying to get you on it. You tried it once, she's onto something.)

The college kid whose eye bags have doubled in size since they first came in. -- Iced americano, one more shot than you feel is ethical each time.

Three shot soy latte guy, small decaf mocha woman with a fresh set of nails every time you saw her, long pull espresso always in a porcelain cup for the older woman with the faded purple lipstick, etc. etc.

The mental list of orders must have been a mile long but you kept them all in your heart. You have seen people before job interviews, between shifts, between jobs, on breaks, days off, first dates, break ups, going to work, coming from it, anything in between. Second only to your sacred alone time, was the way you got to know the people who continued to come. Your position as a customer service worker was not without the obvious dregs of complaints and entitlement from the comers and goers, who never asked your name or about your day, and always had something wrong with their drinks, but it was all overshadowed by the kind faces you recognized so well. And nothing could compare to seeing someone for the second or third time, knowing you had secured another person a favorite coffee shop where they could feel comfortable and know that this small, but vital, piece of their life would be taken seriously and made carefully, exactly to their tastes. You liked giving people that peace, a little taste of your own.

This morning when you opened, you got into the cafe at 4:30. Early for the 6:00 opening but you wanted to enjoy the languid morning hours a little extra today, and you did. You took your time setting the pastry display, straightening up the table, setting up the self service bar. Before you knew it, there was only a half hour left before opening. The large drip brewers were prepped, ready to fill the cafe with the rich smell of fresh coffee at the touch of a button, the last batch of lemon scones were in the oven, you had just finished counting the drawer for the register and were about to spend the last twenty minutes before turning on the open sign in sweet, perfect silence, enjoying your own favorite coffee when the bell chimed.

“We’re not open yet,” your eyes stayed closed, prepping for the first sip of your perfect morning indulgence.

“Oh, I’m sorry. The sign is on, I didn’t realize.” A rich, oaky voice filled the echoey cafe.

You opened your eyes and turned to face the voice. The owner of the voice was a tall man, over six feet, a full, broad figure clad in a tan coat over a dark blue button up. The outer layer couldn’t conceale the way his shirt stretched over his chest, buttons meeting, but just barely. A queer looking yellow tie spotted almost like a cheetah or a banana thankfully covered the higher up, more stretched gaps. But what struck you the most was his face, hard lined cheekbones, long, slender nose, hard set jaw, thin but full rosy lips, a set of unique green lensed glasses resting over his eyes. He was stunning, completely beautiful, the kind of beauty that could strike a god down to earth for the chance of love. You felt your throat tighten, your mouth fall open.

“I-uh, Sorry.” And yet you still couldn’t figure out how to respond.

He took a moment to look at you, then checked his watch, pulling up his sleeve for you to see the joint of his wrist. Behind him you could see the white neon light of the open sign shining through the front window. Your face heated, mortified at how unprofessional you were being, gawking at him.

“Oh. I am early-- I’ll come back. I’d hate for you to star----”

“No!” you interrupted, waiting just a touch too long before continuing, “You’re barely early, excuse my flippancy, please come in. What can I get you?”

You took your place behind the counter, he moved to the other side of the counter, he scanned the menu board above your head, turning his chin up slightly, giving you a view of the muscles in his neck. Your mouth watered. You brought your eyes down to the screen in front of you, desperate to quiet the thoughts in your mind.

“I really would hate for you to start work early. Especially for my sake I can wait outside.”

“Don’t be silly! I couldn’t have you out there waiting when I can help you now.”

You absolutely could, and had, on many occasions done exactly that. Letting the morning rush wait until operating hours no matter how early they wanted to “just squeak in super fast!”. But you wanted to keep him inside, bring him closer, give him anything he wanted. Hell, if he turned out to want all the money in the register you probably would have at least considered it.

The rich voice filled your ears once again, “A cappuccino, please. With just a bit of honey, please.”

Great order, and so polite.

“You got it.” You plugged it into the computer, the total appearing on his side of the screen, “dry or wet?”

He cleared his throat abruptly, eyes wide behind the thick frames, “uh…?”

You didn’t realize how it came out, “more milk or more foam?”

He collects himself, “uh wet, then.”

You nod, “any preference of milk?”

“Whatever you have is fine.”

You started the espresso grinder, the whirring filling the soundless air of the cafe, “this is a cafe, we have like six milks.”

He nods, “right. Um…whatever you use I’m sure is fine.”

You mirror his nod, “oat is, then. Anything else I can get you?”

“One of those croissants, please.” He gestured to the pastry case, ten perfect flaky butter croissants sitting beautifully.

“Great choice.” You smile, “I’ll get your drink.”

You turned back toward the espresso machine as he moved to start paying on his screen of the register. You were grateful to have an excuse to turn away from him, away from the magnetism of him, to have something to focus on and hopefully regain an ounce of your composure.

Nanami collected his breath, grateful to have your sparkling gaze out of his immediate eyeline. It takes more focus than would normally be necessary to complete his payment. Fingers trembling over the ‘no receipt’ button, his eyes drifted up again. The large espresso machine in front of you hissed and dripped the fragrant, rich liquid into the small espresso cup underneath.

“Is this your first time in?” Your voice rang like a bell in the empty cafe, you were pouring milk into a metal pitcher as you spoke to him, not missing a drop.

So much ease, precision, the routine of skilled work over years of honing, everything was perfectly measured, foamed, and stirred. You clearly took care in what you did, your hands were so still and even as you tipped the small fridge door open with your foot to slip the milk carton back inside. The brief scream of the milk knocked him back into his senses.

“Yes.” He answered, hoping to keep his internal chastisement out of his tone.

You nodded watching the milk whirlpool in its small silver pitcher, “I thought so. I don’t think I’ve seen you in before. I’m basically always here, and I think I would have remembered you.”

A blush heated your cheeks, but you discarded it as steam, pulling the wand from the pitcher and tapping its bottom against the counter. You poured the honey sweetened espresso into a small to-go cup, and topped it with a fair serving of water before meeting the lip of the pitcher with the liquid so the foam could slide perfectly across.

Nanami watched the smile slide across your lips, cheeks pulling upward, a satisfied sigh leaving you as you perfected the drink. His drink. His.

He shouldn't be acting like this, he just stopped in to get a quick coffee before returning to the school. The last assignment had been grueling, he was only just finishing it. Talk about Overtime. This was ridiculous, he had been in an awful mood before walking in, miserably dragging himself through the doors of the first lit up cafe he stumbled across. And yet here he was, his previously drained heart beating, no palpitating, in his chest at just a few exchanges. You finally turned back around to face him, presenting the drink to him without its lid, letting him see the perfect line of dusted cinnamon across the foam cap.

“Here you are!” You beamed at him, hoping to see a flicker of a smile or some kind of praise.

He didn’t smile but you thought maybe you saw something soften in him. He accepted it across the counter, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a sip. Then he smiled. He couldn’t help it. It was perfect. Perfectly sweet from the honey, but still letting the robust bitterness of the espresso shine, the body of the oat milk complimenting the two perfectly, making the whole concoction taste like a cinnamon and oatmeal cookie that he’d indulge in in some private, anonymous, curseless cafe that he thought only existed in his mind. But he may have found it.

“Wow. It’s excellent.” His lens-guarded eyes warmed at you through their green filters, “Thank you.”

A chrysalis was twitching in your heart, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

A moment passed as you waited for him to speak again, praying this interaction wouldn’t be over yet. The chime of the bell at the door broke you away from him, turning to see the beginning trickle of the morning flood enter. He was a nice enough guy, same thing every morning: four shots of espresso with two brown sugars in a porcelain mug that he would sit at one of the back tables in and read the morning paper no matter how ungodly early it was, but right now you wished he never dared step into your shop in the first place. When you looked back and saw the end of Honey Cappuccino’s motion to check his watch, he met your gaze once again.

“Oh! Your croissant, I'm sorry.” You breathed out, kicking yourself for being foolish enough to think he was lingering to talk to you more, not waiting for the rest of his order.

“Right.” You heard from above you as you opened the pastry case.

You retrieved the biggest, prettiest pastry for him and put it gently into a paper bag, straightening up to hand it to him.

“No one going to work this early should go without breakfast.” You smiled, hoping to soften the blow of your unprofessional behavior.

He nodded, accepting the bagged pastry, “Thank you, for indulging me so early. Next time I assure you I will be within the operating hours.”

The chrysalis stirred again and you giggled its rhythm, “Don’t you worry. You come back anytime, okay?”

He nodded again, before moving toward the door. You couldn't help the way your rubbernecked his exit all the way past the edges of the large shop windows. Turning back to the register and seeing your early bird regularly standing before you. Thankfully you knew his regular order by heart and could plug it in and nod through polite conversation without having to stop your rumination

He had said Next time, implying he would come in again. You said a silent prayer to nothing that he would. At least so you could redeem yourself. So you could remind yourself and demonstrate to him that you were a consummate professional. The rest of your day was spent smoothly, that tapping, fluttering feeling in your chest was quiet and still. You made drinks, cleaned and stocked the store, were courteous and charming with customers and coworkers alike. But you couldn’t get the man from this morning out of your mind, you didn't even ask what his name was. He would only be Honey Cappuccino Guy, for now, and that would have to be enough for now.

Nanami entered the school still nursing the last dregs of the cappuccino, savoring the taste of honey and the memory of you in tandem. The high of your interaction was beginning to wane, the head and body ache of a night of reconnaissance and curse slaying an albatros growing denser and denser around his neck. He longed to finish his report and head home as soon as possible, already budgeting the allotment of time that felt appropriate for an early afternoon nap before resuming the chores he had left unfinished at home in a rare act of laziness. He hadn’t eaten his croissant yet, finding it rude to eat on the train, and his stomach felt barren, it seemed every part of him was echoing in discomfort. An echo that was seemingly non-existent in the warm light of the cafe.

He sighed, rounding the corner to the small extra room that had been designated as his “office”. Not being a member of the teaching staff at Jujutsu High, there was little necessity for him to have a space of his own on its campus. He could easily complete his necessary paperwork in the common areas, or even at home. But Yaga had insisted on marking one of the empty offices as his, with some encouragement from a certain white haired sorcerer. The dwindling number of active sorcerers in the area was certainly a motive to keep each other close. So Nanami obliged, stopping by for meetings, assignments; both at their beginnings and upon their completion.

This last assignment had been grueling, extending too far into the night, he almost felt dishonest filling out the time card associated with the final report. Nearly twelve straight hours of traveling, hunting, and fighting. It was a miracle he wasn’t delirious. He stretched back in his chair, the lactic acid that longed to settle in his back and legs crackling and redispursing. He found himself again remembering the lilt of your voice, the smell of lemon and sugar and fresh roasted grounds in the air of the cafe. The sense of peaceful indulgence carried him through the next two hours of work before he could drag himself home to shed the day and pass out, dreaming amorphously about flaky pastries and kind expressions.

It would be almost two weeks before you would see him in the cafe again. You were restocking the milks in the small fridge underneath the counter that housed the espresso machine when the bell rang. It had been a dreadfully slow morning, mostly regulars and single, simple drink orders. It had given you plenty of time to clean, and fantasize. The large, well dressed man from eleven days ago hadn’t yet left your mind. His voice, his stature, his odd clothing, his demeanor. You were positive your memory had to have been generous the more and more you recollected the meeting, surely no one person could be so handsome. So charming, so, in the truest sense of the word, attractive. But when he stepped through your threshold once again, you found that your memory was ironclad. Tall, broad, sculpted features, odd glasses, leopard print tie, pristine styled hair, every detail of him was perfect. Your breath caught in your throat, but even that couldn’t interrupt the smile that widened on your lips.

“It’s you.” you all but gasp out.

He crosses toward the counter, a faint smile showing itself only on the edges of his lips, eyes wide and set on you, an expression you couldn't realize was mirroring your own awe.

“You can say that about anyone. It’s always true.” His voice was just as smooth and even as before, you felt an all too familiar stirring in your chest.

You laugh, “Good point. I didn’t expect to see you back. Thought I might have scared you off.”

“Certainly not!” He can feel the burn in his cheeks, “You were kind enough to extend your hours for me. How could I not return to at least say thank you.”

“Oh!” you chastised yourself for the twinge of disappointment you felt realizing he wasn’t here with any motive other than politeness, “It was no trouble really, it’s like the easiest drink in the world to make.”

He nods, “well, Thank you nonetheless, your work got me through the rest of mine.”

You let out a low whistle, “That was one hell of a clock in time. Do you always go in that early?”

“I was finishing up actually. Long project, I…lost track of time.” He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to provide you with more information, ordinarily he would dodge questions in their entirety. Truthfully he would ordinarily never be in this situation to begin with, never having been one for casual small talk.

“Wow…that’s intense.” you couldn't imagine working such a strange schedule, what extreme hours like that must do to a person, “what is it you do?”

This is exactly why Nanami does not engage in casual small talk, does not approach topics that could lead back to sorcery or jujutsu or anything related to his job, why he does not talk to the pretty girl behind the counter. Because now he has to lie. His heart sinks, but he steels himself.

“I'm a sort of exterminator.” He answers smoothly. Not technically a lie.

You hum, seeing him stiffen; you’ve seen this before, folks can be cagey about their professions, and particularly assumptions made about them based on what they do, you knew when not to pry, “Hm. You must have to be on your feet a lot.”

He’s grateful you chose a surface level observation instead of prying further.

“Well what can I get for you today? Got another long one in the books? Should I break out the hard stuff?” You smile warmly at him, catching his eyes.

It's then that you realize he isn't wearing those peculiar glasses that he had before. Thick green lenses absent, and amber eyes revealed in their stead. The outermost rings of his irises were dark, oaky brown, his lashes were long but faint, small freckles now visible across his nose and dappling the tops of his high, hollow cheeks. Not only was your memory not being generous, he had somehow become more handsome. You took in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the stirring inside of you.

“One cappuccino with honey, please. Just the same as last time.”

“You got it!” You tap the corresponding buttons.

He pays with a card, a chime sounding as he taps against the reader. He is grateful for an excuse to look away, it feels like every time he looks at you, you’re looking back at him, so intently. He feels studied by you, hot under your gaze. He wonders to himself if the blush he feels creeping up the back of his neck is visible to you. Your smile earlier made it begin its journey from the warmth of his chest up toward the tops of his ears. His harness feels too tight, his jacket feels stuffy and restricting. He reaches up as you finish up the payment across from him and tugs his tie looser, routinely unbuttoning the first button of his shirt. It's then that he notices his hands are sweating.

Fuck me. Pull it together. He pleads to himself accepting the receipt as you turn away.

Back facing him you begin weighing out the espresso, you can hear his footsteps as he steps off to the side. You catch your breath, gearing yourself up for your next move. The drink comes together quickly. Honey, espresso, steamed and frothed oat milk, a small dusting of cinnamon. You giggle to yourself about the cinnamon on the creamy foam mirroring the dusting of freckles along his face. God, you're pathetic. You roll your eyes at yourself and inhale. You turn back to the counter before stalling. He wasn't waiting at the counter and you had, once again, been too frazzled to ask his name.

“Uh…H-honey cappuccino?” Your voice wavered weakly.

He crosses over from the other side of the cafe where he had been admiring the community board, where local artists would hang their work, organizers would add flyers for local events etc. He traversed the room in three long strided steps.

“I’m sorry, I usually ask for a name, I forgot.” You explained.

He accepts the paper to-go cup between you, “It’s Nanami, thank you.”

“It's nice to meet you.” You smile.

“And your name?” He is quick to inquire.

You tell him, smile widening, he nods and repeats it softly. He sips from the black lid, ignoring the initial shock of heat. It's just as perfect as before, a small sound of approval resonates from his chest, you wish it had less of an effect on you than it does.

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented, thank you.” He offers a small, polite bow before sipping again.

“Like I said, it's an easy drink.” you shy away from his compliment.

“Well, I’m grateful.” He begins to step away from the counter.

“Thank you. Have a good rest of your day.” You put on your most professional and least loaded smile, “Come by and see us again Mr. Nanami.”

He nods at you, smiling as he turns and exits the cafe.

And he did come by again. And again. And again.

Beginning as once a week, then twice a week, soon he begins to factor a third visit into his weekly routine. Coffee the same every time, including sometimes a pastry; taking a particular liking to the ginger and poppyseed scones, and the oat and lemon frosted cookies, but more often than both leaving with a simple croissant. One some trips the conversation if brief; shallow, single day focused conversation topics: weather, traffic within the cafe, the pastry selection you had out that day. On other days he would ask you questions: when did you learn to make coffee? Have you always lived in this area? Etc. Some days you would be so bogged down with making orders upon his arrival that one of your coworkers would be the one taking his order instead. You quieted the rising jealousy as you heard your fellow barista giggle and swoon at his rich, staccato voice. On those days you would write his name cleanly on the side of his cup and make sure to linger at the drop off counter as you called his name for his drink.

“Busy in here, huh?” You baited, handing him the steaming cup.

“It seems my favorite secret cafe is not so secret anymore.” Nanami’s voice sounded truly disappointed.

You faked insult, “You think you discovered this place? I’ll have you know we’re a local staple!”

He let out a small laugh, sipping his drink and sighing, “perfect as always, thank you.”

“Of course Nanami, anytime.” You blush at his praise, it never gets old.

“WIll you be here next Wednesday?” He asked.

He had never asked for your schedule before. You tried your best to hide your excitement.

“I will! I’m opening. So feel free to stop by thirty minutes before if you're desperate.” you teased.

He let out a guilty laugh, “ Well, I'll see you then. Well within operating hours, I promise.”

You nod, a bit too quickly, “Sounds good.”

He smiled and nodded again, turning and exiting.

Your favorite coworker who had been working the register approached you, following your eyeline as it tailed him out of the cafe.

“Planning on asking him out soon?” She poked your side.

“No way, Nanami?” You dismissed, “Yeah right, he’s just being nice.”

“Right.” She begins, “because he comes here every week because the coffee here is just that good.”

Her tone is cutting and sarcastic, she pushes your shoulder lightly before returning to the register, leaving you to your own thoughts. You hadn’t considered the fact that he could actually be coming here for you, of course you hoped and fantasized about exactly that, but faced with someone else’s observation you felt…strange. Embarrassed and exhilarated. You wondered what would come on Wednesday.

“Thanks for taking me to coffee Nanami-san, You really don’t have to treat me!” Ino Takuma beamed as he walked into the cafe.

He was beyond excited when his mentor had asked him to have a meeting today after training to discuss the upcoming recommendations. Nanami held the door for Ino as he babbled his way inside, reciting his thank yous over and over.

“You’re welcome, Ino. I asked you here because I have something to discuss with you. Consider it an expensed lunch.”

“Still! Thank you so much. I’m honored that you would make time for me, I know how demanding the schedule of a grade one sorcerer can be!” Ino continued, wanting to showcase how prepared he was to take on the demand himself.

“Lower your voice,” Nanami chastized and pushed up his glasses, shielding his eyes as he scanned the population of the cafe. It must be a slow day, only three patrons to be seen. One sitting at the bar top, reading the newspaper, and a couple seated in the front corner, focused on splitting a pastry right down the center with a small butter knife.

“Nanami!”

Ino watched as the muscles in Nanami’s neck appeared. Not in frustration or exertion, the way he had seen so many times before, but a completely new reflex. Dare he think, excitement? He watched carefully as his mentor was urged forward by the woman behind the counter, the beautiful woman behind the counter. Nanami was quick to cross to the empty counter, Ino trotted behind with wide, watching eyes.

“Good morning! It’s still morning isn’t it?” You smiled craning to see the wall clock. When you turned back your gaze fell to the slightly younger man behind Nanami. He was probably twenty or twenty one, his frame similarly toned and cultivated, hair shaggy and smile twinkling, “You brought a friend. Wait! Is this your brother?”

You looked closely between the two men, both handsome, both well made men with cut features and toned, imposing bodies. A similar height, a similar build. The younger man’s coloring was slightly darker; Nanami’s eyes amber, where his were deep oak, Nanami’s blonde hair contrasted against the other’s shaggy brown hair, but you could see where a family resemblance would reside.

“No.” Nanami answers cooly, much to Takuma’s chagrin (despite its honesty), “Ino is an apprentice of mine, I’m treating him to lunch today because of his hard work.”

“Well, congratulations, it’s nice to meet you. What can I get you both?” You smile, side glancing at Nanami.

Ino blushes through his order, taken by how magnetic you feel when you talk to him. Privately watching how Nanami listens closely when you talk, uses his eyebrows more in his responses to you. You know his order, you sound flirtatious as you ask if he wants his “usual”, Ino sees as Nanami’s lips curl as he nods and selects two pastries from the case to accompany their lunch. Was Nanami…flirting? It seemed everytime you would turn your back, Nanami was catching his breath, and as soon as you returned he hung on your every word. Ino was beyond delighted, he had never seen this side of his mentor before. He watches as you complete the payment, fluttering your lashes and stringing your words together. When the order is complete he follows Nanami to a table in the back of the cafe.

“Ino, I wanted to ask you…”Nanami struggled with the next part of his request. He had found himself at a loss for what to do recently, feeling his standing with you plateau, “I hope you will forgive the candor of my question, In fact I- I am slightly embarrassed to even be asking you,”

“Go ahead, please. You have helped me so much, I’d be happy to try and help however I can. ” Ino had a growing suspicion as to what could have been the subject of his inquiry.

“The…barista, what do you think of her?”

Nanami prepared himself for anything that could come next. Ino could laugh at him, Ino could laugh in pity before explaining that it was pathetic for a man of his circumstance to be entertaining the idea of a relationship. Ino could chastise him for reading into the kindness of someone who is actively working customer service. Ino could express his disappointment of not talking about the recommendations. He could call upon Nanami’s embarrassment for his own inexperience with flirtation. Nanami prepared himself to be exposed, shamed and cursed.

“Oh! So you know she really likes you, I think she seems funny and smart. She’s really pretty, like really beautiful. I like her outfit, and hairstyle.” Ino began just as eager and delighted as he had been when Nanami invited him to lunch.

“Wait, what do you mean she likes me?” Nanami’s brows inched together, although subtly.

“Oh! Well, she smiles a lot when you talk and listens really carefully, and she called your name when we got here and…”

“That’s her job, she has to be polite and accommodating.”

“Sure,” Ino nodded, “But she seemed really interested in you, not so much with me. I don't know, I guess, but it just seemed like she liked you” Ino shrugged.

Nanami was lost in thought as Ino trailed off. Could you really like him? Your encounters were so brief, he was so stilted around you, or at least he felt as much. You were accommodating and kind because you were good at your job, it was only natural that he recognized it as charm. He missed your call of his name, signaling the drinks he and Ino had ordered were ready.

“I’ll get them!” Ino perked up, standing quickly and heading to the pick up counter.

You pushed the two fresh drinks forward as the shaggy haired mentee approached the counter. He had the floppy stride of a well trained dog, bouncy and excited as he hurried over.

“Thank you so much!” He beamed.

“You’re so welcome, enjoy. Your food should be out soon!” You smiled back.

“Hey, can I ask?” Takuma leaned in conspiratorially, “does he come in here a lot?”

You couldn't help but indulge the genuine curiosity in his voice, “A few times a week for about two months. How long have you been working with him?”

“About two years.” He answered, “I’m so glad too, he usually never takes someone under his wing like this!”

You smiled, cocking your head to the side, “So he’s a big deal at work, huh?”

Takuma nodded, “Oh yeah! He’s focused and hardworking, brave and careful.I hope to be half as skilled as he is one day.”

Your smile grew at the extrapolation. It was praise befitting of the man so dedicated to his work that he could be seeking out coffee at five in the morning at the end of his shift. The younger man nodded and couriered the drinks back over to the table. You thought you saw as Nanami’s eyes flashed over to you, but behind his glasses it was hard to be sure. You smiled all the same, just in case. You returned to your work, Ino and Nanami would both wave goodbye to you with mannered ‘thank you’s’ offered as they left after their meeting. You watched as Nanami held the door over his mentee’s head, ushering him out and looking back over to you. You looked away quickly, and when you looked back he was gone. Your lower lip settled in between your teeth, replaying your memories of him in a flash before returning your attention to the steaming milk whirlpooling in front of you.

You didn’t see Nanami for three weeks after that.

You were today’s closer, your shift already dragging far into the afternoon. The morning crowd was tired, desperate, and reliant upon memorized routine above all else. Simple orders, simpler conversations. The evening crowd was far more likely to experiment. They are unpredictable en masse in a way that your morning regulars were not, making it so that you had to be that much more attentive when discussing menu options. Not only that but you also had to clean and secure all parts of the cafe before you could leave. On a usual day this is fine, although a complicated and oft tedious dance, but today it is much worse. Your usual array of alternative milks were on backorder meaning you were running out more and more with every order, with now replacements on their way. Also dwindling in stock were multiple menu items, including both pastries and lunch menu components, flavors, even lids for to-go cups had started to wane faster than anticipated. You recalled a conversation with your manager that ended dismissively about the coming weekend and how poorly you were prepared to do your job effectively. Your concerns had been barely acknowledged at the best and outright discarded at worst. Over the course of the last three hours you had had eyes rolled at you six times, had to remake a drink four times, been asked why your stock was so low ten times, and had to give one full refund to a customer who took it upon himself to reprimand you personally for the lack of options available to him. You tried your best to push through but the orders kept coming, and the wait times grew longer and longer, you weren’t making nearly enough progress.

“Switch out?” Your coworker offers to you marking your wide, scared eyes gazing at the growing number of tickets.

“Please.” You nod turning to operate the register instead.

They nodded taking over at the espresso machine from where you left off. You approached the counter just as a woman stepped forward from the line.

“Hello! What can I get you?” You smiled brightly.

“Well, I don't know yet…”She was already frustrated, “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

She turned her gaze upward to the menu board above your head, rolling her eyes on the ascent. It shouldn’t have, but it brought a hot burn of tears to your eyes. Sure, she was being condescending, but you dealt with far more pointed forms of belittlement on a daily basis. Somehow though, after the day that had already transpired, you had to choke back tears. You felt yourself shut down in order to keep from crying at such a stupid remark. You took her order without incident, asking only the necessary questions and issuing the payment efficiently. Upon retrieval of her receipt she left the counter. The tears were threatening to spill over as you sighed in relief. In an example of the universe’s kindness you saw your coworker approach, indicating to you that it was time for you to take your lunch break. You passed her quickly as she entered the floor, grabbing your bag and rushing out the front door in embarrassment. Or rather, you tried to rush out of the door. As you scrambled toward the threshold you collided with something hard, it felt like you hadn't bothered to open the door at all, study and unmoving. You bounced back, feeling a rattle in your bones as you tried to gather your senses enough to turn your head upwards. Two strong hands gripped you in place. You gazed upon the face above you, looking down with wide, green guarded eyes.

“Are you alright? I didn’t see you, I’m sorry.” Nanami’s hands moved up your arms to your shoulders.

You haven't ever seen his face so worried before, eyes carefully studying you, brows furrowed, hands hard on your arms, “I--i--Its been..”

Nanami sees the tears well up in your eyes, brimming and nearly spilling over, “Were you going outside? May I join you?”

You nod and he ushers you out quickly, holding the door before following in stride as you hurry down the sidewalk. He watched as you pulled a pack of cigarettes from your purse, drawing one forward, long and thin, and continued to dig inside the bag, growing more and more frustrated. Nanami pulled his own lighter from his jacket pocket, a pristine silver zippo with the characters of his name engraved at the base. He lit the end for you and watched you savor the first drag. Your eyes closed and your lips plump and pursed around the filter. When you opened your eyes and exhaled you offered him a cigarette from your pack, and he took one. Smoking the same cigarette as you made him feel close to you somehow. He lit it as you plopped down on a smoker’s bench two and a half blocks from the cafe.

“Bad day?” Nanami asked after a beat or two.

You groaned in response, resting your head on your hands and your elbows on your knees, cigarette dangling dangerously close to your hair. He nodded, suddenly feeling awkward and ill prepared to comfort you. You had probably left the cafe to be free of customers and work, and here he was following you. Shame rose in his chest as he realized his imposition. All the same, Nanami stood next to you, smoking silently, trying to offer you the space you needed, space he had already intruded on. The wind rushed past the both of you, the coming fall air carrying the cigarette smoke away. It seemed to trigger the raising of your head.

“Do you like your job, Nanami?”

He was surprised. Not by the suddenness of the question but by the sincerity in your voice, and the defeated look on your face. The tops of your cheeks were wet, your eyelashes damp, the usual casual smile you carried now replaced by a deep frown. The sight tore at his heart, until now you had been a consistent source of joy for him, he never expected to see you in such duress.

“No. I don’t.” He confessed, it was always relieving to be honest about his distaste for sorcery, he made no effort to conceal how he felt, but when he has to do it every day he finds himself pretending occasionally.

You nod, understandingly, taking the cigarette between your lips and sliding over, for him to plop into the seat next to you and continue, “Well I love mine. I know it’s silly, it's just coffee. But, I don't know, I like seeing people everyday, talking to them, providing something they can enjoy and indulge in, no matter what happens over the course of the day. Something they can rely on for comfort.”

You shook your head, already starting to chuckle at yourself for how stupid you must sound. Before that feeling could take root, Nanami cut in.

“It’s important. It isn’t silly at all. These people come to you to provide them with a service they can not provide themselves, something you have spent years perfecting for their benefit. You sustain people with energy, you allow them space to rest and stay cool, you offer a moment of kind conversation in a time when people feel more lonely than ever.” His voice stayed even, almost stern, as he spoke to you.

You watched his face as he spoke, similarly stoic. He was being overgenerous, far too complimentary of your work in something as brief as a coffee stop. You knew this to be the case, it had to be. But, his words echoed the same romanticism that filled you when you had first started in coffee, you did like the idea of providing for people, you liked having a specialized skill, you genuinely cared when your customers engaged you in conversations or told you their problems, human connection was the main draw of the job. And it was why you loved it. You were able to connect with hundreds of people a day, if only for a moment.

“What happened today?” He inquired further.

You sighed, “Not any one thing. Just one of the bad ones. I hate disappointing people, and I disappointed a lot of people today.”

“So what?” He responds flatly, taking a drag of the loaner cigarette.

You’re shocked, a confused laugh leaves you.

“So what.” He repeats, “if they are disappointed, then they can get over it. Surely the next time they stop in you will take the great care of them that they are used to.”

His voice is sincere; as though it’s the most obvious, logical line of thinking available. You wanted to defend how bad you felt, to slip into your habits of valuing the negative outlook rather than compartmentalizing. But you can’t, looking at Nanami, with his kind, intelligent eyes looking right back into yours, you’re struck by the heart of his words. You nod reflectively, considering all the situations today where you could feel the disappointment coming from a customer; each situation would be easily fixable when more resources or corresponding orders came in. You had plenty of experience diffusing situations like this, you would be able to fix them all eventually, and anything you didn’t get the chance to — was out of your hands.

“Thank you.”

Nanami watched as the smile returned to your face. Your eyes had dried themselves, your back stood straighter as you finished your cigarette and extinguished against the sole of your shoe. He had smoked much slower than you, he wasn't a frequent smoker anymore, an old habit that lingered from needing quick getaways from his former office, so the nicotine buzz was starting to swirl his head, he noticed a small tremor in one of his legs that he recognized as his limit.

You tucked the butt of your cigarette into a small outer pocket of your purse. Nanami followed your motions, extinguishing his own and handing the double checked no longer burning butt to you. You tucked it inside the same pocket, holding them there to dispose of properly later in a real trashcan. Smoking was bad enough for the environment, you didn’t need to add litter to the equation. Some silly, overly whimsical part of you treasured the idea that the remnants of his mouth and the remnants of yours were in there together, getting cozy.

He shared that thought with you, although privately.

“How long is your break?” Nanami asked, wanting to scrub his mind of the thoughts of the indirect kiss between the two of you occurring in your pocket.

You reached across his lap and took his left wrist in your hand pulling it over to you. His heart stopped, he didn’t dare breathe, immediately conscious of the smoke on his breath wouldn’t disturb you. You had never touched him before, excluding the collision that brought the two of you out here. Nearly three months of over the counter exchanges without a single instance of contact, broken here, with your warm, soft fingers touching the thin skin on the inside of his wrist. He watched your face as you looked at his watch.

“About ten minutes left.” You sighed.

You looked back at him, your hold on his arm had brought him closer, much closer than expected. You still held his wrist, his face couldn’t have been further than eight inches, you had never been at eye level with him before. You could see his face so much closer and clearer, you could see the pores on his cheeks, the discoloration under his eyes from overwork and lack of sleep, you thought you saw some deeper discoloration around the side of his eye, but brushed it off as shadow. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, thin and shapely, a full bottom lip with a soft rosy hue. When you met his eyes again you could see through his glasses, seeing that his eyes were trained on you just as intently. You felt that familiar stirring and buckling in your chest that had become so synonymous with your feelings of excitement around him. He was so close, so focused on you, you felt intimidated, and observed. You released his rest, back into his lap.

“Thank you, Nanami. I needed that.” You sighed, looking away from him, trying to break the growing tension between the two of you, “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, I promise I'm usually better at this.”

Nanami shook his head, similarly thankful for the severing of intensity, “don’t apologize, I understand. I’m glad I was here.”

You took in the sidewalk and the street, the cool early fall air around the pair of you, the weather was perfect. Beautiful sun, chilly air, the smell of coming evening rain. You stood, brushing the back of your pants off for any eager fallen leaves that you had been previously too frustrated to notice. He stood quickly to meet you, adjusting his coat and sleeves to busy himself. You two took another moment to adjust yourselves before locking eyes again. You offered him the kind smile he knew so well.

“Are you ready to head back?” Nanami cleared his throat.

You nodded, feeling much more grounded, and grateful for this moment of respite. You walked back together, not needing to exchange words, just simply walking side by side the all too short two blocks back to the cafe’s door. Once you reached the door Nanami stalled. Something in him changed, an aura you hadn’t seen in him before

“Would it be okay if I came by later today?” He asked, not quite looking at you, but over you and into the cafe behind you.

“S-sure, of course.” You felt yourself shrinking, the embarrassment of how vulnerable you had just been creeping in in a vignette, shading the moment of connection you had just shared with him.

Nanami gave a clipped nod, looking around once more before turning his gaze down to you.

“Okay. I’ll be back here tonight. Take care of yourself.” He nodded once more before turning and heading back down the street,

“W-wait, did you want your coffee?” Your sentence began as a call but faded into a whisper as you realized he wouldn’t be turning around.

You watched his silhouette descend the path, turning and disappearing into the city. You weren’t sure exactly what happened, what you had done or what had called him away. But before you could dwell too long you heard the voice of your coworker calling to you, asking you for help back on the cafe floor. You looked once more down the path that Nanami had left down, before returning inside to finish your shift.

The rest of the day passed as well as it could have, and regardless of how grueling it was moment to moment, the time passed anyway, and once the cafe had cleared itself and the hiss of the open sign was made silent, you found yourself alone. The bakers had completed their prep bakes for the next day, allowing them to cool in the large industrial freezers overnight, the other baristas had swept and mopped before clocking out and returning to their own homes. You stood behind the counter waiting on the espresso machine to complete its last cleaning cycle. Nanami hadn’t come back as he said he would, and while you were alone you didn’t feel like hiding your disappointment. You scanned through what you could have done wrong, everything you said, everything you did, suddenly all felt wrong and overly familiar. You’d scared him off. But scared him off from what, you couldn’t figure out. According to your coworkers, he was flirting, and you knew you were, at least to some degree, however fruitless you considered your efforts.

You were too bogged down by your spiral to hear the shlucking sound coming from the back. The espresso machine's routine of purging and clicking was too loud for you to hear the store room push itself open. It wasn't until you heard the broken, amalgamated voice calling out that you felt the fear slash itself up your spine. You couldn’t decipher the words, they were too garbled, like that of someone underwater trying to speak to you through an AM radio. The pitch was too high for your ears, and too low to even exist. You stood completely still, no one else should have been able to enter the building, the only unlocked door was the front, large lights and plenty of people making it safer than exiting out the back. Some instinct in you was holding you completely still, restricting you from being able to turn around and see where the sound has come from. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move, the only thing you could think about was your coworker set to open tomorrow, and what ungodly nightmare was she going to have to walk into. Tears fell from your eyes, the wetness of your cheeks snapping you out of your paralysis, your body shaking as you started to turn and face what was coming.

“Don’t turn around.” Nanami stood in front of you, his usual tan jacket removed, moving his sleeves up his arms, his gaze locked behind you.

Your breath found you again, chin quivering with fear and relief at the sight of him.

“Close your eyes.” Nanami’s voice was darker than you had ever heard before.He looked completely different, intense and large and imposing, if you didn’t know him you could have been scared of him, “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Close your eyes.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, immediately missing the comfort the sight of him provided. You heard a thunk, a grunt, a slash, and then nothing.

“You can open your eyes.” Nanami’s voice came from right behind you.

You turned around quickly, seeing him standing over a pile of knocked over cups and pitchers, holding what looked like a butcher’s knife wrapped in cow print fabric. His yellow tie that you had grown to admire as a symbol of him was loose around his neck. He was still looking down at the ground. Once he seemed satisfied with whatever it was, he looked back at you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sheathing the paddle looking blade on the brown leather holster on his back, you had never noticed it before.

“What the fuck was that?” You couldn't help the tears that fell from you as your body started to shake harder and harder.

Nanami put his hands on your shoulders, his grip tight and soothing, “I’m sorry you had to see that. But it’s gone now, I assure you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you started sobbing falling against his chest. He held you tight against him, letting your tears soil his shirt and your body tremble in his arms as he held you firm. You wept until openly, feeling no shame, there was no room for shame with all the fear and adrenaline vacating your body. He made no move to quiet you or tell you to calm yourself, he simply held you close.

“Can I take you home?” Nanami asked, his voice resounding from his chest where your ear was pressed.

You nodded.

Nanami had started sensing the build up of cursed energy on his last visit before bringing Ino. It was faint enough that he couldn’t place if it was coming within or from the general street. On his subsequent visits he noticed it growing exponentially, building on itself in a way that was inching toward concern. His selfish motives for bringing Ino to the cafe were overshadowed when he picked up on it as well. Confirming Nanami’s suspicion that it was an internal problem, and one growing more and more dangerous by the day. Earlier today was the first time he had noticed its effect in action. You tear stained face, the disgruntled patrons, you fevered, overworked companions. He knew he had to intervene. He had come after closing hoping you had already gone home, hoping to take care of it quietly before it became a larger problem. It wasn’t until he saw you terror-stricken with a low level curse emerging from behind that he conceded he would have to tell you. He didn’t want you to have to experience any of this, you shouldn’t have to face the reality of this world, and the monster’s within it. You deserved the same ignorance as everyone else outside of sorcery. But it was no longer his decision.

He walked you home, which wasn’t far from the cafe, and up to your apartment. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, he hesitated briefly before following you. These aren't the circumstances he had anticipated for his first foray into your living space, but again, it was out of his hands.

“You said ‘it's gone now’, what is ‘it’?” You asked as you locked the front door behind you, check the peephole for anything out of order.

Nanami sighed, “It’s…a lot to explain, most of it would be incomprehensible right away. It would take me hours to make it all make sense. And that isn't a slight against you, it’s because I know you're smart that it would only take that long.”

Your voice was returning fully, the fear having left itself behind at the cafe, “Nanami, you knew. You knew that whatever it was was there, you…killed it? Drove it away? Would it show up here? Do I need to be worried about this thing coming here?”

“No.” he was quick to shake his head, “It’s dead. Well it wasn’t ever really alive, not really. But you don’t have anything to worry about, anymore. I’m sorry it got that bad.”

“Please just tell me.” You groan, “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

And he believed you. So he told you.

It took nearly four hours, one and a half pots of coffee, and a few crudely drawn diagrams on the back of a take out menu that he drew. But eventually you understood that what had attempted to attack you was a curse, and that curse had likely been building over a series of months or maybe years before it reached this form. He was a sorcerer, a kind of soldier tasked with the exorcisms of these curses in an intensely guarded organization dedicated to keeping curses secret and the public safe. The young man, Ino, who he had brought with him is a sorcerer as well. He explained the rank of threat, and how yours was incredibly low for any skilled sorcerer, which apparently, he was. He showed you the blade he kept on his back, the one that had been hiding just below his jacket for the entire time you had known him. He explained to you how he was able to kill the curse in a single strike, how his technique worked. When his explanations had been completed you felt strange. Stuffed to the brim with new information, most of which terrified you and made you feel powerless against a threat you could have gone through your whole life without knowing about. But a part of you felt good, knowing there were people kind enough and skilled enough to make this an insular problem, one that did not necessitate the knowledge of the general populace out of sheer humility.

“I understand that this must be a lot for you to take in. But, I promise you that what attacked you tonight will never show its face again. I can give you a talisman, something to keep in the cafe to keep it safe from future curse development.” Nanami had taken off his coat and harness, his blade lay on your coffee table alongside his glasses and your purse.

“Was that why you left so quickly today?” It may have been a silly thing to inquire about in the wake of so much life changing information, but you couldn’t hold your tongue.

Nanami nodded, “I had to run back to my..boss basically, and get a formal assignment to exorcise the curse. I’m sorry I left. I didn’t want to. When we got back the energy was too strong, I knew I would only have a few hours.” His apologized, setting his nearly complete coffee cup on the table, “But I had to make sure that nothing happened to you,” after a beat he adds, “or your coworkers.”

“So you, you saved my life tonight.” You whispered.

The front pieces of his hair had fallen out of their usual styling, they now hung in front of his face. Through the sandy strands you met his eyes, looking tired and locked with yours. The faint bruise on his brow suddenly made sense, the bags under his eyes, the serious demeanor, it was all recontextualized. You didn;t stop your hand when it traced your middle finger over a small, well healed scar along his eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nanami conceded, usually not one to accept praise for his work.

“Nanami you saved me.” Your hand cupped his cheek, “I would be a mess for someone to clean up tomorrow morning if you weren’t there.”

He was speechless, your hand on his cheek was warming as heat crept to his face. Your eyes were so big and beautiful, your lips looked so soft as they shaped your gratitude.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Was all he could choke out.

You had read about this. After near death experiences, or other instances of extreme adrenaline, the body could have all kinds of after effects; nausea, sleeplessness, exhaustion, arousal. The arousal coursing through your body was a natural side effect of what you had just been through, and what was right in front of you. He had been there watching over you, keeping you safe from threats you couldn't even imagine. Every day he returned was another day that he was caring for you, protecting you, trending to you. His skin was smooth and hot under your touch, the hair of his sideburns was soft under your fingers, it felt like every nerve in your body was turned up to a thousand. The quick hatching chrysalis was nearing its emergence, it was so still as you leaned closer to him.

“You must be tired. I can go, if you need to sleep.” His resolve was faltering.

“If you aren’t busy, I know it’s been a long night,” Your hand traveled down to his shoulder, the barrier of his shirt helping him regain some sense, “I think I would sleep better if you were here. Just for the night?”

The cock of your head and the flutter of your lashes made your offer clear. Nanami’s cheeks became more pronounced as he tried to swallow down the burning desire to have you right here. But he, too, had read about the aphrodisiac effects of adrenaline. He knew that there was a chance that your gratitude and your exhilaration were converging inside of you to make you feel like you wanted him, when you were actually just happy to be alive.

He put his hand on your arm, “Sometimes, when someone has been through something like what you have, they may look for…other forms of excitement to help with the adrenaline dump…it’s very natural..”

The back of his neck was hot, his shirt felt too tight, his pants felt much too tight, his mouth was so wet he risked drooling right in front of you. But he couldn’t take advantage of this moment, it would be wrong. He liked you. Ino claims you liked him, but he doesn’t know for sure, it would be deplorable for him to act on this offer without knowing if this is something your right mind wanted.

“I’ve read that before.” You nodded, looking at his hand wrapped around your forearm, he was so big, “I’ve never experienced a curse before.”

He nodded along with you, still watching your mouth move.

“But, I’ve experienced attraction before, Nanami. I know what it feels like to want someone. And I want you.” You told him, pulling your legs up under you on the couch.

A small shake from his head, “It’s just psychosomatic. You’ll feel better in the morning, or after a shower. It’s the adrenaline.”

“I don’t think I had excess adrenaline the morning you came in first. Or the next time, or earlier today outside. Nanami,” You dipped your head down to look up at his, “Nanami, please. I’ve been too scared to say anything, I didn’t want to seem unprofessional or scare you. But, I like you. I really like you, I think you're gorgeous and kind and funny. You’re brave and smooth and a little weird, but I like that.”

He scanned your face for signs of lying, twitching eyes, avoidant eye contact, swallowing, anything that he could rely on to keep himself from getting exactly what he wanted. But he found nothing. Nothing to let him off the hook of being honest about how he felt.

He let out a heavy breath, his hand on your arm growing tighter, “I fell for you the moment I walked in. Everytime I went back I went for you. To see you. I think you’re so beautiful and charming. I don’t want this to be wrong.”

You shook your head, your hands returning to his face, the one he had on you now moved to the back of your couch, “It’s not wrong. Nothing about this is wrong.”

He grips your hands, looking you right in the eye. You see his pupils have grown wide, you can feel the sweat on his palms, mixing with your own on the backs of your hands. He held you right in front of him, looking over every inch of your face. You were gorgeous, His heart pounded in his chest, like it was reaching for you. He let out a grateful breath.

“Thank god.” He couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could you.

The both of you leaned forward in the same moment, meeting at the perfect center of both pursuits to press your lips together. The chrysalis inside of you hatched, the beating of your heart, the flapping of wet, quickly drying butterfly’s wings. He touched your neck, downy hairs at the nape of your neck soft under his fingers. He was quick to pull you by the waist into his lap. His tongue was smooth on its entrance into your mouth, tasting the underside of your own, the backs of your teeth, the coffee you had shared. The kiss was heated and smooth, personal styles learning to blend together. Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands in his hair, over the back of the couch, anywhere to offer you stability. Nanami’s hands gripped your waist, sliding under your shirt and feeling the first of the body he dreamed of. Kicking himself in the privacy of his own home for thinking of you so disrespectfully. But in your home, on your couch, with you in his lap, he wanted to worship you. The hands he had cursed for pleasuring himself to the thought of you were not reverent as they felt your hips, your ribs, the sensitive flank inbetween. He could feel your shiver as he made his way back and forth, you were sensitive there. He was toying with you, relishing in your hissing inhales, and your breathy moans. But you were never one to be toyed with, you tested a personal theory of yours, one you had formulated with your hand in your panties on nights when sleep wouldnt come and you looked to your own devices to tucker yourself out. You scratched your nails across the cropped undercut at the back of his neck, gripping and tugging at the hair. Nanami let out a strangled moan underneath you, his hips bucking into yours, and his hands gripping you tighter. Just as soon as his mouth left yours, he found your exposed neck, kissing, practically lapping at the skin there. This pulled the more embarrassingly pitched moans out of you. High whimpers as you keened against him in his lap.

“You’re so beautiful, you’re so good, fuck.” He peppered his praise in with kisses along the column of your throat.

You haven't heard him swear before now, the words fell from him so easily. He was clearly practiced, it made you wonder what other sides of him came easily that you hadn’t yet seen.

“Yu-you are,” You could feel your brain covering itself in honey, the saccharine sweet feeling of him under your, on you, all around you, consuming your ability to think.

You felt him smile against your skin, pulling off of your neck and sliding his hand around to the back of your neck.

“I-I don’t do this very often, it’s been a while, please don't tease me too much.” This was the softest you had ever heard him, his voice was breathy and it almost came out as a beg.

You looked down at him sweetly, his hair mussed across his forehead, buttons of his shirt seeming to have undone themselves, tie falling to either side, his chest flush in splotchy red patches. He looked stunning, the light of your living room you had previously considered unflattering, was golden hour.

“We can take it slow, if you want.” You offered, wanting to accommodate him, the way he had already for you.

He shook his head leaning forward and readjusting you on his lap. When he settled you back down you realized the reason for his frantic reaction. The very big reason. The pants tenting, hot, probably leaking, reason.

You nodded, quick to understand. You leaned forward to kiss him again, making sure to grind yourself down in his lap before pulling off completely and grabbing his hand, tugging him behind you. Nanami felt drunk following you to your room, found himself almost stumbling as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. He crossed the threshold to your bedroom where you had already pulled your work pants off, standing in only a thin tank top and your panties. You approached him with mock disappointment and your bottom lip between your teeth. You moved your hands over his chest.

“I wanted to be the one to take off your shirt,” You cooed.

Nanami’s hand found the lapels, “I can button it again if y--”

You giggled, “Next time.”

Before pulling him into another deep kiss by his neck. His hands found your hips, eager to slip one finger under the top of the waistband and feel the hidden skin. You slid his shirt down his shoulders, the tie falling along with it. Your lips smacked together over and over as you both tried to touch as much skin as was available to you. You pawed at the hard lines of his back, feeling ridges and valleys and muscles. He, similarly, was quick to find the hemline of your shirt and slip underneath. You both let out a haughty moan as he cupped one of your bare breasts. IF you had had your eyes open, you would have seen his eyes roll back in his head as he slipped his tongue between your lips once again, squeezing the tit in his hand. You freed your arms and pulled the shirt over your head as he undid his belt.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Nanami gazed over you.

“You’re gorgeous.” You echoed, hopping on to the bed and watching him pull his grey slacks down his legs. He wore a pair of navy colored briefs that hid almost nothing, especially the nearly black splotch of precum that had accumulated.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” You marveled at him, his body, the evidence of the effect you had on him, his face, him, all of him.

Nanami sucked in a quick breath, fighting his embarrassment by looking at the hungry look on your face. You were nearly naked on the bed, waiting for him. You had only your panties on, your chest exposed, nipples once puffy now hardening with excitement. Eyes trained on him, mouth panting and swollen from his kiss. He could see a small bruise forming on the side of your neck, he would apologize in the morning, flowers or breakfast, but for now it was all his to admire. He joined you on the bed, climbing over your body to do so. His torso caged you in completely, wide shoulders shadowing over your frame. He pulled you by your thighs. Taking time to stretch your legs and admire the muscle and skin and fat that made up your gorgeous form. He seemed impressed with your flexibility, at least the little click of his tongue indicated as much. His clothed cock pressed right against your panty clad pussy, both hot and begging to be aligned. He pressed his hips a little as he brought one of your ankles to his lips, kissing the ball, then up the calf. You moaned at the wet kisses, relishing in his affection. He looped his thumbs into your panties, releasing your leg so he could pull them from your legs. Nanami caught your eyes before spreading your legs in front of him, you gave him the go ahead and he sank before you, aligning himself to see your pussy spread open for him. If he wasn't drunk earlier, he was now. Sticky, dripping, gorgeous. He couldn’t hold back, he licked a long, wet stripe up you slit, tasting his first of you.

Your body was on fire, completely electrified, and weightless underwater all at once. His tongue made its home between your labia, sharp nose being buried in your mound. Your back arched off the bed as a wanton moan left your wet mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, finding a grip for you to cling to. Your other hand held your breast. Nanami’s tongue flicked itself up and down, kissing your clit, drawing out more and more arousal from your dripping hole.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He says, soft enough to be just for himself.

You can't respond, only mewl as he sucks at your clit. You release your breast and grip on to the headboard, accidentally pulling yourself away from him. Nanami grabs your hips and pulls you back onto his tongue.

“Come back.” He mumbles, again, almost to himself.

“N-Nanami, i-..”You are cut off by another harsh suck to your clit, his tongue circling inhumanly.

You were so close, it usually would have taken you much longer to orgasm but the excitement coursing through your body and his skill had turned you to keening, pathetic putty in mere minutes. He flicks his golden eyes up at you, watching you start to unravel. He knows what to do, or rather what not to do, he carries on exactly as he has been, every flick of his tongue pulling you down further. It became too much, and you bubbled over. You cried out in white out pleasure, pulling on his hair. Your legs clapped around his head. He drank up everything you gave, your moans upsettingly muffled by your flesh over his ears.

When he felt you relax again, he pulled his mouth from you, a thick, gossamer string of spit and cum connecting from his lips to your pussy. The hand from his hair fell to his face, pairing nicely with his blown out eyes and fucked out expression. He caught his breath while looking over your body, your full breasts, your tummy rising and falling as you caught your own. He moved over you once again, kissing you deeply. He tasted like you, his tongue was heavy and hot in your mouth, his hands were fast to rid himself of his underwear and pull your legs over his bare hips. You could feel the length of his cock pressing against your throbbing, overly sensitive cunt. Your outer lips, now much more sensitive from Nanami’s expert work.

“You’re amazing.” You gasped out against his mouth.

He hummed pridefully, kissing you again. He grinds his hips hard, hoping to prepare you further for what's to come, but he miscalculated, a rare occurrence. Both of you let out long, glorious moans as he pushes himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. Nanami shudders briefly before gaining his strength back, you dig your nails into his back, but he cant feel anything except the pulsing of your pussy around him. He may never be able to think again, not of anything other than having the hot velvet muscle between your legs tight around his cock. You whimper at his penetration, feeling him press the deepest parts of you. Tip of his cock kissing your cervix, just as passionately as he kissed you. He was not a small man by any measure, and the entirety of his cock probably made up close to eight inches, with the girth to burn as it stretched you open.

Which he did again, catching your panting lips on his own, quick kisses between caught breaths as you both adjusted to the feeling of being joined together. He pulled his hips back, pulling a shaky moan from you, and pushed in once more. Somehow he reached even deeper than he did before, his cock arching up to press that beautiful, spongy spot inside of you, the spot that made you clit throb and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Look at me, baby.” Nanami pleaded, “I wanna see your pretty eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open, a drunken droop to the lids as he thrusted again. He found an even, well paced rhythm. Kissing you occasionally, when one of you wasn't gasping out in bliss. Your hand moves up one of his arms, gripping his taut bicep and his sinewy shoulders. He pressed his forehead to yours, looking down your body to see his pelvis meeting yours. His cock throbbed inside of you at the sight, in turn making your walls grip him tighter. You pull him back to your lips, wanting to be consumed by every sensation he could give you. His hand by your head grips the pillow hard, ripening a hole in the casing. You move your hand up to meet his, holding it and interlocking your fingers. His grip softened instantly, becoming as sweet and generous as ever part of him had been already. You felt him twitch inside of you once more. Followed by a choked moan.

“I-i, baby I,” Nanami struggled to get his words out as he drove himself further and further into you.

“Please, Nanami, please.”You held him closer with your thighs, purring out his name.

“I didn't put on a condom,” He struggled to collect himself, he knew he could be responsible with you, “I should..”

“Dont pull out,” You whine, sounding more pitiful than you intended, “please Nanami, cum inside me, please.”

He finds your eyes quickly, his heart melting at your big watery pleading eyes. You swollen lips, you drooping, drooling mouth. How could he deny you? Nanami made quick work of chasing his own climax, thrusting harder, fucking faster, holding your body still underneath him. You feel every thrust in your throat. His pace quickens and his thrust become shallow and choppy. Nanami lets out a delicious, languid moan as he cums. You can feel his thick cock depositing load after load of cum into you. An elongated, uninterrupted E sound. He holds you at your hip and when your hand still holds his. His face is now buried in your neck. Your legs are slung over his hips along with your other hand over his shoulder. He thrusts twice more before stalling, having emptied himself, but not yet gathered the desire to pull out. When he finally comes to, he releases your tender hip and pushes himself up from above you, looking down at you. You pant up at him, taking in a post-coital vision of him you never expected, and he, the same. He flushed, sweaty, messy, drool and cum drying on his chin, hairstyle ruined by your grasping. You imagine you looked just as disheveled by half as gorgeous. Nanami, would of course, disagree. He kisses you again, soft and deep. When he finally pulls himself out of you he takes the spot to the right of you in bed. You lie together, allowing your bodies to return to a blissful equilibrium. You roll onto your side, moving a hand over his stomach.

“So you’ll stay the night?” you gave a sly smile.

And he laughed. Truly laughed, before kissing you again deeply.

And he did stay the night. After a quick shower the pair of you returned to bed and slept soundly in each other's arms until he got up before the sunrise to make it back to his apartment with enough time to change before work. He kissed you goodbye and assured you he would come by the cafe. And he did, he met you right at the end of your shift, a bundle of flowers in one arm. He invited you to a home cooked dinner at his place. You were surprised at his determination to make you an established couple, but not even close to put off by it.

“I know it’s a little unorthodox, but I am about to start a new assignment and it’s shaping up to be a lot of work. I may be indisposed for a few days. I’d really like to see you again before then” He explained as he walked you home.

“I’d love to,” You giggled, kissing his cheek and admiring the bouquet he had picked out, “Where are you going for your assignment?”

“Shibuya.”

OOOOOOOOOOO SURPISE, anyway hope yall like it and came good. Love you all, thanks for 150 followers. Also im on my barista high horse a little, but just be normal and nice to people, and if you'd tip a bartender, tip a barista. it's the same job. I hope this was worth the wait. I have work in fiv ehours. -Doodle.

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chouettecrivaine · 1 year ago

Text

Ah, Young Love! [Our Life: Now & Forever]

Fandom: Our Life: Now & Forever

Characters: Qiu Lin, Tamarack Baumann

Notes: takes place during Step 1, so he/him is used for Qiu as that is how he identifies at this point in the story!

So anyway I'm obsessed with how everybody wants Qiu but Qiu only has eyes for MC once they meet so I'm thinking about his silly little boyhood crush. And then I couldn't leave best girl Tamarack out of the love fest so here's just a few little things I was thinking about with them having childhood crushes on u <3

Note that only the demo is publicly available and I am not currently a patron so anything here that is proven true is coincidence and anything proven false is just me having a little fun

Qiu Lin

So like. I've seen Qiu call you pretty twice in the demo. Once when you meet him if you choose to call him pretty first, and again towards the end of what's available in the demo when he's listing off reasons why you should be allowed to join the club..

I just think that whenever he talks about you he always has to let it slip that he thinks you're cute. "They had on a really nice hair clip today!" "Their hair looked so cute when they took off their hat at school." "When I picked them up to walk to school, I was so surprised at how pretty they looked!"

When he told his parents about you he probably said "this really pretty kid surprised me in our yard and we went on a miniature adventure!"

Also (and note that my MC uses she/her so im gonna quote him using gendered terms but only for this one instance) When he's introducing you to one of his friends, he starts off with your name and says "she's a girl!" (Or whatever terms you have set)

So I just think he says the most basic facts about you with so much awe and wonder 🥺 like you wore overalls to school? He talks like you invented denim. You had a funny comment or joke? It's like he's never heard one before in his life when he retells it.

I feel like…the first thing that makes him interested in you is that you're new. Not only does this make you fun to mess with, but it makes you far more interesting than the people he's known his whole life. Plus you, unlike Tamarack, don't immediately brush off the cool things he wants to show you or do with you if it isn't immediately your cup of tea.

Darren and Baxter are sick and tired of hearing your name !! If you're not around Qiu wonders aloud at least once if he should or should've invite(d) you. If he did invite you and you had to decline, then he wonders what you're doing.

The type of kid to skip out on his weekend chores at home and go to your house to help you unpack instead

Ok so MC says they used to live in an apartment, right? Probably in the city? And MC was only allowed to play on their own because Golden Grove is "a safe neighborhood?" What if MC doesn't know how to ride a bike. What if Qiu teaches them…

Whether you get a hang of it or not, he daydreams about doing that thing where he rides the bike and you sit backwards on the seat or on the handlebars or something

When he finds out you can't ride a bike, he definitely shows off by riding around without his hands on the handlebars.

Will teach you how to jump off the swing set too, then will have competitions over who can swing the highest and leap the farthest

I feel like Golden Grove has a cute little main street with a bunch of locally owned shops. If you're interested, he'll show you every. single. business. Even if most of them are "granny shops" he isn't interested in. He'll let you poke around for a bit :)

He has a special page in his notebook for all the little notes and doodles about you

If you look closely at the note he gives you after class, you can see the remnants of a few tiny little hearts that he erased!!

Going back to him offering you to ride on his bike: he probably got you in trouble once because you were on your front lawn and he rode up asking you to go on an adventure with him on his bike. You're expecting a fun little 20 min ride through the walkable path in the woods that'll have you back home by dinner. Instead he takes you to town and buys you ice cream and the two of you have to struggle your way back up the hill on foot and it takes like an hour and a half to get back and your mom was worried SICK

Buys a pack of pens with one/some of your favorite color(s) and writes you notes exclusively in that/those ink(s)

If you and your mom go somewhere and he knocks on your door while you're out, you will come home to see him sitting on the steps to your front porch and waiting for you

Before class starts, he always gives you a funny face or a wave. If you come in late because of a doctor's appointment or something, naturally a lot of the kids turn to look at your entrance, and he immediately waves at you. Maybe even says hi to you out loud if he knows Mrs. Murray is in a good mood / he can get away with it.

If he finishes his work early or something, he'll turn around in his seat and just watch you from across the room with major heart eyes. He smiles wider and waves when you notice.

Anything you compliment him on, he immediately draws attention to around others. Say his hair looks good today? He'll hit you with a "oh but not every other day?" but then tell his seatmates about what you said.

Buys extra portions of his little snack bags of chips and candy or whatever he likes when he can so that he can give them to you during lunch.

Gets on a kick and will pester you about having a secret handshake until you let him come up with one. He likes having special things just you and him 🥺

Probably invites you to his hideout at a specific time and day every week and he gets soooooo excited for that time to roll around.

Tries extra hard in your favorite subject, even if it's one he hates. He's not trying to be top of the class, but he doesn't want you to think he doesn't care about something you care about!

If you like a class he's terrible at, he'll ask for your help! Or, if you struggle in a class he's good at, he'll volunteer to help you out even though he HATES the concept of doing extra schoolwork. That's how much he likes u

He'll do this with any windows but especially if one of your bedroom windows faces his: he will definitely pull a Taylor Swift in "You Belong With Me" and write notes for you guys to read to each other

Since he can't sit with you, he'll write you notes or make you doodles and then pretend he has to get up to sharpen his pencil so he can pass your desk and slip it to you

Tamarack Baumann

Tamarack will straight up just stare at you 👁👁

She follows you around like a lost puppy and visibly brightens up when you're around

Looks forward to school because she gets to sit next to you all day! Like she'll skip happily along the path with you and Qiu and you'll ask her if she's looking forward to all these things and she'll just go "No!" and when you finally give up and ask why she says "because I get to spend the whole day next to you!"

When she goes to play in the woods, sometimes she'll spend a while in the shallower end of the tree line waiting to see if you'll come outside and play with her

Has definitely thrown sticks and pebbles at your back door to lure you out before she gets bored

Likes to go around and pick up the coolest rock, the prettiest flower, the biggest piece of tree bark, a leaf the size of her head…then before she goes home for the night, she stops by your house and gives what she picked up to you!!

If you're not home then she leaves it on your porch with a note, usually held down by a rock if it's not something heavy

She'll be over the moon if you give her cool rocks and stuff you found. Even if you're literally giving her trash, like if you ONLY give her bottle caps or pop tabs you find on the sidewalk, she cherishes them. Would make jewelry out of them tbh

Ok so quick tangent but there's a book I read in about 4th grade called Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli, and in it the love interest girl is the quirky type. One thing she has is a little decorative cart on her dresser which she puts rocks in every time she's happy and takes rocks out when she's sad. When the protag goes to her house and finds out, she explains how she has put the most rocks in it since meeting him. They kiss sometime after that and she puts another rock in and tells him about it. I think Tamarack would have a jar or a doll house bathtub and she would do the same thing, putting rocks in it when she's happy! So what I'm saying is give her plenty of rocks so she can exclusively use MC rocks for that

Also will make matching jewelry for the two of you without even stopping to think if you even wear what she's making. She'll buy kits to make special rings and headbands, braid a million friendship bracelets out of multicolored string, use acorns she found to make earrings…anything! She is just as happy if you wear it then she is if you buy a jewelry display stand and show them off in your room. Eventually she adds keychains into the mix for some variety

Doesn't mean to spend a lot of her time waiting on you but she does. On weekends, instead of going directly into the woods, she'll just lie on her back in her yard and stare up at the clouds, completely still, daydreaming (about you) until she hears your door opening. Then she runs to you.

If any of your windows are open, particularly your bedroom window, she'll send a bunch of paper airplanes your way. Most of them make it! However, you've learned that if you find even one paper airplane inside, you're going to have to check that side of the house for more scattered on the ground

Grips onto your arms or your clothes whenever she can. You two are connected.

Makes a BIG effort to like anything that you like as much as you do! And when she follows you around, it doesn't really matter if you're doing something she doesn't care about. She just wants to spend time with you! It does make her whole week if you follow her into the woods, though.

She doesn't take notes in class, but you leave a writing implement out for her and sometimes she'll reach over and doodle a cute bear or something on your paper :)

If you say you're cold, she'll give you her scarf, no questions asked. Is also down to share but don't let her do that while you're walking because it WILL end badly

Has wrapped the scarf around the two of you and tied you guys together before and yes it was the best recess of her life

When walking, she tends to lean into you which sometimes almost turns into pushing you and Qiu into the road if you're not careful

Likes to drag you around places and pretty quickly invites you to her house. She doesn't tell her grandparents that she's inviting you over, so they're surprised by you almost every time, but they don't mind! She's dragging you up the stairs to her room too quickly for them to say anything anyway

#our life now and forever #our life now & forever #our life #qiu lin x reader #tamarack baumann x reader #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #☆ qiu lin #☆ our life #☆ olnf #☆ tamarack baumann #🐚 capricorn ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{hcs}#🌠 pisces ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{all writing}

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

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we better make a start (older!modern!eddie)

continuation of orange colored skyorange colored sky setlist

inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i go to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. tw: outside of an age gap, not much. super fluffy it borders on gross. eddie is in his late 30s/early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s. music inspo: everywhere - fleetwood mac

Wednesdays at two… You wished you’d met this guy in the fall when you still felt cute getting off the train. It was like being in a sous vide every time you got on and off, walking back out into the hot sun of the city. Would your hair frizz? Was your makeup melting? You were at least smart enough to wear bike shorts under your skirt to avoid the rubbing of your thighs – hopefully he wouldn’t notice. Your feet hurt in your 90s looking wicker sandals but at a passing glance in a store window you figure you don’t look half bad. You look infinitely better than when he first saw you in your ‘errands ugly’ clothes. Maybe he’d even think you look cute. Y’know – if he’s even there. Why’re you meeting up with some random stranger anyway? A sick flare of nervous embarrassment slides through your chest like a snake – this is stupid. He probably forgot about it. Whatever, you wanted to pick up a couple things anyway – it’s totally fine – this isn’t weird at all – and if he’s not there? It doesn’t matter. Who cares? You’ll be fine. You’ll go home and sift through a never ending collection of left swipes and ‘haha not much, just chillin naked. wbu?’ messages on whatever dating app you feel like opening that day.

A block and an escalator later, you’re in the depths of the shopping center where Trader’s is. You swallow the sick creeping up in your belly — this is so stupid — but it doesn’t take long for you to spot him at a small table near the coffee stand across from the store. His hair sits in a low bun this time, most of his wavy curls spilling over and framing his face. He looks nice, black tee shirt that he might’ve pressed, smarter looking black chinos with a belt he likely got at a vintage store. The silver buckle looks pretty and polished, shining like the rings on his fingers and the rim of the wire glasses he had perched on his nose. He’s typing away on a laptop, black iced coffee melting next to it that he occasionally reaches to sip.

“Um…You’re Eddie, right?” you stammer out as you walk toward the table. He looks up from his laptop, the glow of this screen reflecting back in his glasses. He stops to look you over, straw still in his mouth.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins, a breath of relief puffing out of his nose, “Didn’t actually think you were gonna show up — was sort of a shot in the dark.” He stands up, hand outstretched for yours to shake, “I never caught your name.”

You take it, his handshake is firm and you can make out some of the tattoos on his fingers and hands. You introduce yourself and he mumbles a ‘nice to meet you’, your name sounds nice coming out of his mouth. “This feels like a business meeting,” you laugh, “Like I’m here for an interview.” He laughs back, “I did just come here from a meeting so I might still be in work mode, sorry.” He takes off his glasses, hanging them off the collar of his shirt. He packs up his bag, a well worn Jansport backpack covered in patches like the vest he had on the last time you saw him. You could tell it was old since there was a patch right at the center that read ‘METALLICA 1997 - Poor Touring Me’. A few other concert patches with ranging dates, 2003, 2009, 1998 littered the black canvas, you smile at it.

“1997?” you ask, “Metallica concert at what – nine? Your parents were cool with that?”

He looks down at it and his cheeks go pink, letting a breath puff out of his lips that makes them push out and motorboat, “What year were you born?” “‘92,” you answer, “Why?”

“Jesus,” he mumbles, rubbing his face with a tight smile, “You’re a young thing, aren’t you?”

“How old were you in ‘97?” you ask while you both make it through the double doors of the grocery store. He grabs a basket and raises his brows with another big breath. “Seventeen,” he says, “Got this backpack two days before that show actually.” “You still have it?” you ask, trying to do the math in your head of how old he is and how long he’s had it. “Jansport has a lifetime warranty,” Eddie smirks, “I’ve been putting it to good use.” “So why’re you back here,” you ask, following him to the back aisle where the bread is, “You just went food shopping a few days ago.” “I went for my neighbor,” he explains, grabbing two baguettes, “He fractured his foot and hasn’t been able to get up and down the stairs. Been running errands for ‘im in the meantime.” “Oh,” you smile, “That’s nice of you.” “Thanks,” he says, “You like bruschetta?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well,” he starts, “I didn’t really think that Trader Joe’s was an ideal date so I thought I could ask you out here and also get some stuff for it ahead of time.” “Oh,” you repeat, heat creeping up on your cheeks, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well if you’re free tomorrow afternoon…” he begins, but gets sidetracked. He sneaks behind you to grab some yogurt covered pretzels, “I saw you grab these the other day and got some too, they’re fuckin’ delicious.”

The spicy suede scent he had last time is replaced with a bright citrusy cedar, it matches his overall disposition. Your mouth waters when you inhale.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” he starts again, “If you’re free tomorrow afternoon, I’d love to treat you to a little something cute in the park. It’s supposed to be not so swampy.” “Like a picnic?” you ask with a hint of a tease. “Yeah,” he says, a glow of pink perking up on his ears hidden by his hair, “Something like that. If you’re into that – like – if you even want to go on a date with me.” “I showed up here. I feel like that’s answer enough, right?” “Right, right.” The conversation quiets while he tosses a few more things in his basket. “So what was your meeting for?” you ask, watching him look over the cold cuts and cured meats in the open refrigerated section. He was one of those, a ‘stand-and-starer’ instead of just knowing what to get. You try not to grind your teeth. “Oh, new client meeting,” he says, like you know exactly what he’s referencing.

“For what? If you don’t mind me asking.” He reaches for a package of salami and prosciutto before turning to you, “Do you eat meat?” You nod while he continues to pick up and compare products, “New client for my side gig.” “Which,” he says, tossing his selections in the basket, “If you can believe it, pays a shit ton more than my main gig.” “What’s your big money side gig?” you laugh, following him to the next aisle. “I’m a web developer,” he says, squatting down to look at granola. He hopes you don’t hear the way his knees crack, the way his face winces at the slight tightness in his joints. In Eddie’s defense, he didn’t get a chance to stretch this morning – normally he’s much more limber – he promises. “Like making websites and stuff?” you squat next to him, your own knees cracking. You hope he doesn’t hear it. “Just like that,” he says. He reaches in front of you, grabbing your arm to steady you as you wobble to move out of his way. His grip is gentle but firm, the spots beneath his fingertips buzzing with electricity, “Careful there, sugar.” A smile spreads deep across your face while your eyes make friends with the floor under you, both of you rising back to your feet. His keys jingle on the same carabiner from before, clinking against a silver chain that you’re pretty sure connects to a wallet in his back pocket. He has Nike Killshots on today, the white with a black check instead of the navy. Everyone and their father has the white and navy. “Do you like it?” you ask, holding in a giggle while he grunts getting up. “Writing code and doing graphic design? Sure,” he shrugs, “Got into it really ahead of the game. You were probably still in grade school.” You roll your eyes and he snickers, “But mostly, I make websites for trust fund kids who use daddy’s money to start new businesses. So it’s sort of like my side gig is uh…” “Exploiting the rich?” you grin, he grins too, “Super punk.” He shakes his head while you both walk out into the produce section, “No, no, super metal.”

“What’s your main gig?” “Oh, come on – don’t break my heart,” Eddie’s dramatic flare shines through when he leans up against the flat edge of the pillar holding up the bananas. He holds his free hand to his chest, looking at you with a faux forlorn face that makes his brown eyes shine. Now that you’re really taking stock, you see the thin silver hoop hugging his right nostril – something about it makes your heart thump harder in your chest. “The tattoos don’t give it away, huh?” he asks, passing the basket to the other arm, both biceps flexing against the well tailored t-shirt’s sleeves.

“A tattoo artist?” you wager a guess with a grimace and half shrug. “No,” he says, the word covered in a soft laugh, “But I’ve been in my artist's shop enough that I might as well get paid to be there.” “I can see that,” you nod, pulling a bunch of bananas from behind him and cradling them in your arm, “So what is it then?” “C’mon, it’s obvious,” he smiles, “I’m a rockstar.”

“Are you?” you ask, your laugh bubbles out of you and it makes the back of his neck get hot. You’re too pretty to be flirting with him in Trader Joe’s but he can’t stop trying to make you laugh and smile.

“Well,” he shrugs, kicking off the wall, “Sort of.” “Sort of a rockstar?” your brow lifts while you scan some of the fruits, hand reaching down to a display in front of you, “If you’re doing food food, how about I do dessert?”

“Peaches, huh?” he asks with a smirk, wrinkling his nose, “A little messy, don’tcha think?”

“They’re nectarines,” you correct, putting a few in one of the produce bags, “They’re not the same.”

“Hm,” he shrugs, letting his finger trail over the smooth waxy skin of one of the nectarines in the display, “Whatever you say, Peach.” “Pfft,” you shake your head the same way he did to you, tying off the bag while you try to ignore how the butterflies in your stomach multiply at him calling you Peach. “So if you’re doing dessert that means you’re free tomorrow, then?” he raises his brows, waiting for your answer while you both walk to the checkout line, “You never said if you were.” “Yes I did,” you protest. His tattooed hand reaches out for the nectarines and bunch of bananas you’re holding. You look down at them and then back up at him, Eddie gives you a look, encouraging you to hand them over.

“No, you said you’d go on a date with me – gimme these, I got ‘em–” he beckons you with his hand to take them until you relent, putting them both in his basket, “And trust me, I’m glad you’re down to go on a date with me. But I just wanna make sure you’re around tomorrow so I know to turn on my charm in the morning.”

“Oh, it’s not on right now?” you flirt. Eddie’s smile gets boyish and shy, tucking a loose salt and pepper collection of strands behind his ear. He’s too blushy to respond, thankful that the Trader Joe’s worker directs you both for the next cashier. He hands you your bananas and nectarines and you plop them into your canvas bag while he finishes up, walking together out of the double doors.

“Um, could I - uh – damn why am I so nervous to ask you this? What am I, sixteen?” he thinks out loud to himself, furrowing his brow at his own ridiculousness, “Fuck, could I um – get your number?”

“You already asked me on a date and you’re nervous to get my number?” you tease, “For real?”

“Long story, I’ll tell you one day,” he says, handing you his phone. He tucks in his lips while you take it, watching eagerly while you put in your information. You save it under ‘Peach 🍑’ with your real name in the second line.

“Oh what, did it happen all the way back in the 70s or something? Hard to remember?” Your mean girl tone of voice has a hold on him that thrums in his chest.

“So you’re one of those girls, huh?” he releases his lips, tip of his tongue pressing against one of his canines, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He takes his phone back when you offer it to him, taking a quick second to shoot you a text that just says ‘eddie m.’ Your phone dings in your hand, going to save his number while he watches.

“M’gonna put it in as ‘Sort of Rockstar’,” you giggle to yourself. “Please don’t.” “Too late.”

You drop your phone into your canvas bag, giving him a final once over. He does the same and his stare almost makes you nervous with the way his brown eyes soften when they find your face. Not one for awkward silence you reach your hand out like he did when you met outside of the store. “Pleasure doing business with you, Eddie,” you say, a lightness to your voice that has him swooning. His hand takes yours, big and slightly rough, calloused fingertips slightly brushing your wrist. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he says, giving you a firm shake, “Same time tomorrow? At the park?”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll um, I’ll text you. I’ll drop a pin,” he offers.

You’re both quiet for a moment, anxious with anticipation for tomorrow – for a real date. You say your goodbyes, your ‘see you tomorrows’. Only to both start walking the same direction towards Target.

“Oh,” you laugh, “Are you going to Target, too?”

He laughs back, slightly hoarse and rough, smokey sounding, “I am. Should I wait a little? Don’t wanna cramp your style or anything. I know we just said goodbye.”

“No, no, we can go together,” you smile, big and bright, “We can both decide on what I’m making for dessert.”

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #modern!eddie #modern!eddie munson #stranger things

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johnwickb1tsch · 9 months ago

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 8 all chapters

-Your birthday falls on a beautiful spring day, and of course, you have to work. When a new customer growls into the parking lot on a shiny black motorcycle everyone crowds behind the counter to see who it could be.

It takes so little to entertain all of you, sometimes.

The boys titter excitedly about the sweet bike and torque and ccs, whatever that means.

When the rider takes off his helmet there’s a fall of fabulous dark hair, and something inside you utterly purrs at the sight.

It’s Mr. Wick.

Maybe you should have known. His padded motorcycle jacket makes his shoulders seem impossibly broad, and as he crosses the parking lot on long legs you hear Cassie sigh behind you.

Same, girl, same.

Cassie had made you a little birthday crown to wear out of a to go cup, a la Princess Peach. You forget about the silly adornment clipped to your head, until Mr. Wick approaches the counter to make his order.

“One coffee…your Highness?” He lifts one of those dark brows with a small smirk, and fuck if it doesn't make you blush.

“It's my birthday,” you sheepishly tell him. His expression actually softens.

“Happy Birthday, then.”

“Thanks.”

“Not fair you have to work today.”

You shrug. “No rest for the wicked.”

This makes him smile a little wider, and you feel that’s a good present for today.

“Hopefully you have something fun planned for later?”

Is he fishing, or just making conversation? You can never tell with this man.

“Not really,” you admit with a shrug.

Your parents are divorced and remarried, living far away from you in their new lives, with their new families. You know they’ll call you later, when they remember you. You’ll have an awkward little conversation that will only serve to grind up your heart into smaller pieces, rather than lift your spirits like its meant to.

Your friends are busy too. One, with her new baby who never has time for you anymore, and you totally understand (and endorse) her priorities, even if it still hurts. The other’s work schedule is exactly the opposite of yours, and you never manage to hang out anymore.

Maybe you’ll go to the thrift store after you get off work, or treat yourself to an ice cream. Nothing too extravagant. You’re saving every penny you can for your upcoming trip.

“Well, maybe something will come up.”

It’s a nice thought.

You make him his usual coffee order, and don’t think much about it the rest of the day. This warm spring day has everyone out and about, stir crazy after the thaw, and you were running full speed from open to the end of your shift. For some incongruous reason, people were extra rude too, and as the clock strikes 2 you are at the end of your rope, your smile more closely resembling a baring of teeth.

Your whole body hurts, and you think you are too exhausted to do anything fun for yourself, until you go to your car in the lot behind the brick building to find Mr. Wick—and his motorcycle—parked next to your old Rav4. He looks utterly scrumptious, if you’re being honest, those legs going on forever as he leans against the seat of his bike. His hair is waving down around his face as he browses something on his phone to pass the time.

Good on you, for only pausing for a moment to ogle him.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You look between him and the bike with your lip between your teeth, wondering what he’s doing, your treacherous heart fluttering in your chest.

“I thought…it might be fun to go for a ride? If you want.”

You cannot suppress a wide smile, touched to the marrow that he thought of you on your special day. “That does sound like fun,” you admit, and not just because the thought of sitting behind him on a bike makes you a little weak in the knees. The sunshine that day truly feels like a gift from the gods after such a harsh winter. “But…”

He tilts his head inquisitively.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

He shakes his head, a lock of his dark hair falling over his eyes, and your fingers physically ache to brush it away. “There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he assures you, and damn if that isn’t enough to convince you.

“Full disclosure: I’ve never actually been on a bike before?”

His smile is nothing less than gentle, and he could have pushed you over with a feather.

“All you have to do is hold on to me,” he assures you, and you think you lose your mind a little at that.

There is slightly more to it, he instructs you as you put on a helmet and he helps you clamber on behind him. He tells you to lean slightly with him into the turns, but not too much. The bike grumbles like a fire-breathing beast beneath you as he starts it up.

The feeling of his slim hips and taut backside between your thighs crosses some wires in your brain.

He takes you to the winding backroads of the countryside and up the mountain. You feel like you’re flying, snaking through the curves on this powerful machine, with a man you find you trust implicitly at the controls.

You laugh out loud more than once.

At a straightaway he asks through the helmet mic, “Want to see what she can do?”

“Sure,” you answer, even though you can’t imagine what more this beautiful bike could offer.

“Lean into me, and hold on.” You obey, looping arms around his trim waist, plastered to his backside as he hunkers down for aerodynamics. You were already going fast, but when he shifts a gear you take off like a shot.

A sane person would have screamed, but all you can do is laugh.

This is the purest joy you’ve felt in longer than you can remember.

John pulls over at a scenic overlook, parking the bike so you can have a little break. You sit together on a picnic table, looking over the valley below. A stream snakes through it like a silver ribbon, shimmering in the sunlight. You sigh and lean back on your arms, lifting your face to the sun.

This has turned out to be a perfect day. John smiles a little as he looks over at you, but says nothing, just lets you soak it in.

“Thank you for this,” you finally say. “I was having such a shitty day.”

“You’re welcome.”

You sit up and rub at your neck. You have an unrelenting ache in the muscle over your left shoulder blade. It never really goes away, but its definitely worse after a long day on your feet bending over coffee.

John looks worried, bless him. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. I just…have this thing. I think there’s a demon living in my shoulder.”

After a pensive moment he lifts his hands in offering, moving very slowly as though he might spook you. His hands are…beautiful. Large, long fingered, calloused too. You wonder what he does, when he’s not sitting in the coffee shop or binding books. The thought of them on your body gives you a forbidden little thrill.

You do not even consider the missing digit, until he looks at his left hand and frowns, closing it to hide it at his side. “Sorry. I still forget…”

But you take his hand in yours, inspecting it closely for the first time. He allows it, though there is something vulnerable in his eyes as you do. The healed skin almost looks jagged, like it wasn’t severed with a clean cut or a surgical blade. You feel the urge to press your lips to it, as though you could kiss it better, but you just rub your thumb over the fine dark hairs there.

“What happened?”

“Someone…” He cuts himself off with a frustrated sound. “I had an accident.”

You sense there’s much more to the story, but you don’t press him yet.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes, I get the phantom aches. Mostly it’s fine though.”

You nod and angle your back to him, placing his hand on your shoulder as you shoot him a pointed look, granting him permission to touch you. His sigh is almost imperceptible, but you sit up a little straighter as he squeezes your shoulder lightly. You get the slightest taste of the strength in those hands, yet you know he could rip you to pieces if he chose to.

He slays you in a different way, knowing exactly how to use them on your sore muscles, and you can’t help but moan as he squeezes the kinks out of your shoulders. For a second he freezes at the sound, before continuing to work his magic.

“God…that feels so good.” You’ve been in pain for so long that it’s damn near better than sex.

Maybe it’s been too long for that too, though.

“You are a mess.” You know him well enough now to know he’s frowning as he says this. He kills a knot with the well-placed blade of his thumb. You feel it release and you jump a little. Though it doesn’t really hurt you, you’re not sure why there is suddenly moisture in your eyes.

It’s been a long time since anyone’s taken care of you like this, you suppose.

“Job hazard,” you sigh.

“Do you ever do yoga?”

You laugh a little at that for some reason. “I used to practice, when I was younger.” It kind of fell by the wayside. You’re always so tired when you get home.

“Well, stretching is good for you, as you age. Take it from an old man. It helps.”

“You’re not old,” you immediately protest.

“Nice to know I still have some curb appeal.” His words are laden with sarcasm, and yet you can tell he is pleased.

He finishes the massage with a lighter touch, to stimulate blood flow, that gives you delicious chills all over. Your shoulders are your kryptonite, and you are putty in his hands. You look back at him from beneath your lashes, curious what exactly it is the two of you are doing here. Does he like you, or is he just being impossibly nice?

He doesn’t avoid your gaze, but you find you can’t read him, not one bit.

“Want to get something to eat?” he asks.

It is almost dinner time. “Okay.”

You’re a little sad as you ride back down the mountain towards town. But he pulls up to the local diner, and you have sinfully greasy cheeseburgers and shakes. Despite your protests he pays, because: “No one should have to pay for their birthday dinner.”

You know he’s fucking loaded, so you let him have his way.

“This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time,” you admit, munching on a fry. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

You know he’s told you to call him John before, but fuck if you haven’t noticed how his eyes darken just a little when you call him Mr. Wick, or even just Sir at the coffeeshop. You feel like you stumbled onto something you don’t entirely understand, but it fills you with a forbidden warmth all the same.

He gives you a hooded look from across the table, and you fancy he knows that you know what you’re doing.

“My pleasure, y/n.”

He doesn’t insist that you call him John again.

#john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine #i miss my bike lol

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444takeomi · 1 year ago

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WHEN YOU’RE SICK

: ̗̀➛ summary: 1st gen bd taking care of their sick s/o

character(s): shinichiro sano, wakasa imaushi, takeomi akashi, keizo arashi

warnings: none

wc: 0.5k

a/n: i'm sick right now and i wish i had someone to take care of me, so i decided to write this instead💀 also i’m trying out a slightly different format for shorter posts like this one, not sure how i feel about it yet

: ̗̀➛ shinichiro

shin will literally drop everything to take care of you if he finds out you're sick. it doesn't matter if he's busy at work, he’ll close the bike shop without a second thought — you're always his number one priority, especially when you're not feeling well. he feels terrible when he comes home to find you all wrapped up in blankets, your voice scratchy as you weakly ask him if he can make you something to eat. he tries to make you homemade miso soup but he’s literally hopeless at cooking, so he ends up just making instant ramen instead. shin will cuddle with you and watch your favourite movies and tv shows, not worried about the fact he could get sick himself — he's willing to risk it if it means you start feeling better.

: ̗̀➛ wakasa

waka is already a clingy boyfriend, but when you're sick he’s extra affectionate with you because he knows you're not feeling well. he makes you something simple to eat like okayu (rice porridge) because it's easy on the stomach, but also because he’s not that great at cooking either. if you're feeling up to it he’ll run you a warm bath and will offer to help you wash your hair. he gets all pouty if you refuse to kiss him in fear of him getting sick, insisting that he’ll be fine and that one kiss won't hurt — however he ends up regretting his choices the following week, whining to you that he doesn't feel good. you have to spend the next few days taking care of him, and good luck because waka is so dramatic when he's sick.

: ̗̀➛ takeomi

omi was always responsible for taking care of his younger siblings when they got sick, and so he doesn't mind doing the same for you. he might complain about it a little, acting like your sickness is somehow an inconvenience to him, but underneath all that he's actually really worried about you and wants to do whatever he can to help you get better. he hates cooking with a passion, but he will go to the store for you instead and get you whatever you want to eat, as well as some tissues and medicine. omi will roll his eyes whenever you ask him to cuddle with you, but he always gives in because he secretly likes how needy you get when you're sick — he won't admit it out loud but he thinks it's adorable.

: ̗̀➛ keizo

benkei is so attentive when you're sick, you won't have to lift a finger. he has no problem with taking time off at the gym so that he can take care of you. unlike the others, he's a great cook and will happily make you homemade chicken noodle soup — he insists on feeding it to you even if you're perfectly capable of eating by yourself. he keeps on top of your medicine and checks your temperature throughout the day, just to make sure that your fever isn't getting too high. he also encourages you to drink herbal teas like ginger or peppermint, because they can help you feel less congested and reduce nausea. benkei wants to do everything he can to make sure that you're feeling better as soon as possible.

please do not translate, repost, or share my writing on any other platforms eg. tiktok

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x you #wakasa imaushi #wakasa x reader #wakasa x you #takeomi akashi #takeomi x reader #takeomi x you #keizo arashi #keizo x reader #keizo x you #benkei x reader #benkei x you #✩444.writings #✩444.drabbles

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sunnie-angel · 10 months ago

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A Soft Touch (pt. 4)

jason todd x f!reader

link to part 3, series masterlist, ao3 link

summary: jason and reader have their first real date. he starts to open up about himself and his family.

tags: fluff, feelings, romantic tension, pet name (angel)

rated teen | wc: 2.9k

a/n: there’s progress in their romantic relationship!!!! finally!!!! translation notes about Vietnamese dish names are at the end

Jay: Are we still on for Friday? I promise that I’m all healed up.

Angel: I’m sure I can fit you into my packed schedule somewhere :)

Angel: (I’m glad your leg’s better)

Jay: Can I pick you up in front of your building at 6:00?

Angel: Yes!

Angel: What are you planning?

Jay: Dinner, then the lights down by the pier walk if we’re up for it

Angel: I meant more like what should I wear…

Jay: Oh!

Jay: It’s a pretty casual place? What you wear to the coffee shop is fine.

Jay: That’s not to say that you don’t always look nice!

Jay: Wait, do you have any allergies?

Jay: Important question: do you like Vietnamese

Jay: Because I can make other plans if you don’t

Jason lets his head fall to the table in front of him, forehead resting on the table between his arms, phone still in his hands. He doesn’t know how you do it, but your presence still manages to fluster him even when you’re not even there. He’s a little embarrassed at just how quickly he’d started to panic, fingers flying over the buttons. But he so desperately wants this date to be perfect. Wants to make up for making you worry and showing up late. His phone buzzes in his hands, makes him look up eagerly.

Angel: Jason take a breath

Angel: You think I’m always cute, I don’t have any allergies, and I love Vietnamese

Angel: And Jason?

Angel: I’m excited for Friday.

Friday dawns, far too quickly and yet not soon enough. Jason chooses his clothes carefully, but now that the appointed hour is fast approaching his eagerness outweighs his nerves. Another soft Henley and sturdy boots have him feeling prepared for anything. He doesn’t bother with styling his hair this time, it would only get squashed by his helmet. His spare for you is still stowed in the saddle bag of his motorcycle where’d stashed it the night before. It’s as he’s running out the door, driving gloves stuffed in the pocket of his leather jacket that he hesitates, then grabs a scarf off of the coat hook.

He arrives in front of your building early, a full 17 minutes according to the clock on his phone. Jason doesn’t want to rush you, it’s his eagerness that’s caused his early arrival after all. He leans against the cooling bike, flexing his hands in his driving gloves, grounding himself from the noise of the city with the stretch and pull of the leather over his knuckles. A buzzing sensation in his pocket has him fumbling for the zipper to his pocket. It’s an incoming call, and for an awful moment he’s scared that it’s you calling to cancel. It is you, but canceling is the last thing you have on your mind.

“Hello, Jason? Look up.” Three storeys up and two windows left of centre is you, pressed up to the window phone to your ear. You’re grinning widely and waving energetically in an attempt to capture his attention. He raises a hand tentatively and waves back.

“Do you want me to buzz you in? It looks like it’s my turn to run late and I still haven’t finished with my hair yet.” You sound so apologetic, he could never hold it against you.

“You ah, you don’t have to do too much. The helmet will probably flatten whatever you do to it?” He doesn’t want to tell you how to look, but he also doesn’t want your hard work to go to waste.

“Helmet? Jason why didn’t you tell me sooner,” you say exasperatedly. “Okay, I’ll figure something out so it’ll fit over my hair.”

“Oh, sorry?” He says.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be down in a minute.” You speak absent-mindedly and hang up before he can respond.

Before Jason can get too worried, there you are, exiting the apartment complex, white coat flying out behind you. Only a few inches from him you come to an abrupt stop, hair swinging from the change in motion.

“Hi,” you say breathless, rocking back onto your heels, hands clasped behind your back.

“Hi,” he repeats back to you. Jason drinks you in, the soft glow of highlighter on your cheekbones and the gentle scent of your perfume. A piece of hair has fallen from where it was tucked behind your ear. His fingers twitch with the desire to touch. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brings one gloved hand up, giving you plenty of time to move out of the way. You stand, stock still, eyes bright and comfortable in his space. Gently, he tucks the errant hair behind your ear, lingers a moment before letting his hand drop back down to his side.

“How do I look now? Fine?” You tease, even more breathless than your entrance had made you.

“Perfect,” breathes Jason. Your cheeks heat up from the perfect weight of his adoration. The two of you get caught, trapped in each other’s gaze. Time spins out, unspools in perfect seconds and still you can’t bear to tear your eyes from his. The moment breaks as your stomach lets out a very unhappy noise, making you giggle and him snort.

“Sounds like someone’s ready to eat. Let me stow your bag and we can get going.” Your purse disappears into the saddle bag, exchanged for a helmet that Jason helps you put on, careful not to disturb your hair too much. He moves to the bike, easily slinging one leg across to straddle it. He extends his hand to you, and you accept his help, pulling at your skirt so it’s tucked under your legs.

To distract yourself from the solid warmth of him pressed against your front, you say, “Next time Jason, you really need to send me an itinerary. You’re never going to see me look anything but ‘fine’ otherwise.”

“So sure there’s going to be a next time?” He asks, slipping on his own helmet with practiced ease. The helmet helps Jason focus, cutting him off from your perfume and pretty eyes. The world shifts, stops rotating around you and your presence.

“As sure as I am that it’s going to snow later.” Jason kickstarts the bike, engine purring underneath the two of you. He pulls away from the curb carefully, mindful of his precious cargo and the way your arms tighten around his middle. Normally, Jason would enjoy the speed and freedom of the bike, city whipping away from him too fast to process. Now, with you seated behind him, fingers tightening in the material of his jacket, it’s probably the most touch he’s had from anyone outside of combat since he died. It’s making his stomach do strange things, butterflies taking up permanent residence. The vibrations of the engine and the dull roar of the bike pull him back to the road in front of him.

Soon, too soon, he’s pulling up in front of the restaurant. It’s an incongruous looking place, red and white checkered colour scheme like an old Americana diner, but Vietnamese written on the awning. Jason helps you dismount, fetches your purse while you smooth out your skirts. He holds the door open for you, let’s you walk into the warm air of the restaurant first.

The waiter greets Jason with an enthusiasm that makes him blush and rub at the back of his neck bashfully. One minute the two of you are standing in the doorway, the next you’re sitting in a booth tucked away in a corner, Jason’s got the best table in the restaurant apparently. It’s quieter here, the high padded backs of the booth filtering out the noise of the kitchen and the other patrons. The two of you have your own little bubble.

“Bring all the girls here, do you?” You ask slyly.

“Bring all the— oh! No, I helped the owner out with a situation and she offered me a free meal. She kept getting mad at me for doing takeout, insisted that her food deserves to be eaten fresh. Ever since I’ve been meaning to come back because the food’s just that good.” He looks down to fiddle with his gloves. “You’re the only one I’ve brought with me.”

“Good.” The waiter comes by, interrupting your conversation, dropping off a pot of jasmine tea and taking orders. Jason takes the interruption to enjoy the possessive curl of the word, enjoys your satisfaction in being ‘only’. Not paying attention, he rattles off an order for gỏi cuốn tôm thịt to share and phở tái nạm gân for himself when prompted by the waiter.

You pour tea for the two of you, push one cup closer to Jason’s side of the table. You wrap your hands around your own, bring it up to inhale the warm floral scent of the tea.

“So besides saving small time restaurant owners and reading classic novels, what do you do for fun?”

“I like to cook. It’s something my grandfather taught me. It’s a nice memory even if we haven’t spoken in years.” Feeling as though he’s revealed too much, he takes a gulp of his tea.

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that. He was the one that taught you to cook?” You leave the topic open ended, let him decide if the subject is too painful.

A plate of gỏi cuốn tôm thịt slides between you, the waiter leaving as silently as he arrived. Jason gestures for you to take one of the cold rolls first, and you do, getting comfortable with the silence and eager to be fed. He begins to speak as you dip the roll in peanut sauce, continues while you start to eat.

“It wasn’t just cooking. He taught me a lot about being a good man. I still remember his lessons when I make his recipes.” It’s all he can manage now, mentions of Alfred still too raw to examine for too long.

He puts an end to the conversation by stuffing his own roll into his mouth. The upside, the only upside really, is how much more he can appreciate food now that his senses are heightened. The texture of the shrimp and pork, the chewiness of the vermicelli, the freshness of the mint contrasting with the savouriness of the peanut sauce. He allows taste to overwhelm him, a distraction from his own conflicting emotions.

“Thank you for trusting me with that.” He opens his eyes to you smiling at him openly and genuinely. “So what do you like to cook? Do you bake too?”

It’s a much safer topic, and it carries you through the most of your dinner together. Jason’s been experimenting with different bread doughs, still hasn’t mastered the right ratio of sugar and yeast, seasonings and dried fruit. You tell a story about the best bread you’ve ever had, buttery brioche rolls studded with cinnamon baked apples and candied walnuts. He promises to see what he can do, suddenly eager to know what new expressions you’ll make with his creations in your hands.

Both your bowls of phở arrive, steam rising aromatic and thick. Doctoring your bowls to your liking, Jason notices that you add more Thai basil than he does, but less lime. That you hold your chopsticks comfortably, like you’d used them many times before. That you liked to push your bean sprouts to the bottom of the bowl to get them to cook a little faster.

There’s no conversation for a few minutes, only the sounds of happiness and eating. Truly, it’s the best phở you’ve ever eaten. You look up to breathe, and Jason’s looking at you, bowl empty and chopsticks laid across the top.

“Good?” He asks.

“Oh this is the best meal I’ve had in years. Whatever you did to get a restaurant owner to adopt you, keep it up as long as you bring me along.” He blushes, pink bringing out the delicate heights of his cheekbones.

There’s a warm silence as you finish up your meal. Jason takes the opportunity to drink in his fill of you. He leans back on his side of the booth, hands wrapping around his cooling cup of tea. The feeling of a full belly, the warm interior of the restaurant, and your company make him feel something close to the normalcy of his youth. Like this, he doesn’t have to steal glances, can gorge himself on your image uninterrupted. The soft curve of your throat, the gentle slope of your forehead, and the darkened length of your lashes drops of water to a parched man. The knit fabric of your dress looks soft enough not to irritate even his sensitive skin and he wants to know what it would feel like running through his fingers.

With a satisfied sigh, you place your chopsticks down and push the bowl away from you, lean back into your seat and smile. The two of you both agree that you’re far too full for dessert this time. Jason decisively wins the argument over the bill by saying he’d already paid for the bill in advance, days before the two of you had set foot in the restaurant, any leftover value on the tab added to the tip. You mock scowl at him, impressed by his foresightedness but also not willing to be outsmarted for long.

Stepping out of the restaurant is like stepping into another world. It’s cool, wind whipping at your face already, stars already burning somewhere unseen above. Jason steps out behind you, brushing up against you as the door swings shut. You lift your face up and close your eyes, letting flakes of snow melt on your warm cheeks and tangle in your lashes.

“Was right about the snow.” You say, breathing in the crispness of the night deeply. Opening your eyes, you look straight up into Jason’s teal ones. The affection there is breathtaking, splits your face into the softest of smiles.

“So I guess that means there’s going to be a next time?” He’s not nervous now, almost surprised but just how comfortable spending time with you is, even when you’ve moved from new acquaintances to romantic interests.

“Jason, there was always going to be a next time.”

The door swings open, right into Jason’s back, another customer trying to leave. It breaks the moment, the two of you shuffling off to the side with muttered apologies. You give a little shiver as another gust of wind buffets over you, rub at your upper arms to try and chase away a bit of the cold.

Jason steps in front of you, body blocking out your vision. Your eyes pan up from the lovely view of his chest as his hands work to untie the scarf from around his neck. He wraps it around yours, material still warm from his body, taking care to tuck the ends into your coat so they won’t fly in your face when he drives you home.

“I didn’t know that I could hope for so much.” He says quietly. “Let’s save the pier for a night when the wind isn’t trying to blow you away.” Turning away to grab the helmets, he tries hard not to let the infectious joy burning a hole in his chest affect the steadiness of his hands. Pulling the scarf up higher, you bury your face in it, inhale the scent of leather and aftershave.

Jason drives you home safely, insists on walking you all the way up to your apartment. You’ve just turned the key to the front door, before you remember the borrowed gift around your throat. Juggling your purse and keys, you struggle to unwind the scarf. Filled with a sense of daring he can’t name the source of, Jason lifts his bare hands and gently, ever so gently, folds them over yours to quiet them. Your touch burns, the electrifying leap before a grappling wire catches his weight. You inhale in surprise, look up to search his face. Whatever you find there must satisfy you, contents you to continue staring up at him with wide trusting eyes. He’s not sure he deserves the blind faith and tenderness in them.

Your lips part, ever so slightly on an exhale, and Jason wants nothing more than to taste. But the barest chaste brush of hands already has him trembling, weak-kneed and vulnerable at the gift of your presence. Breathing out shakily, he slowly inclines his head to rest his forehead against yours.

His eyes are heavy lidded as he speaks, “Keep it. Return it at the coffee shop on Monday, yeah?”

Your answering “Okay,” is barely a whisper. It’s so intimate like this, faces so close they’re out of focus, breaths shared between lips separated by mere inches. There’s a rightness to it, one that resonates in Jason’s very bones, and he knows he could never give this thing between you up.

The two of you stand there for eternity, caught in this moment of soft-spun affection, the first tendrils of some deep and nameless emotion rooting themselves in the cavities of your chests. With strength he didn’t know he had, Jason pulls back, lets go of your hands to smooth the scarf around your neck.

“‘Night, angel.” Then he’s striding away, down the hallway towards the staircase, long limbs carrying him out of the building.

There’s a buzz in his pocket just as he reaches his bike. Pulling out his phone, there’s a notification for one new message.

Angel: Night, Jay

gỏi cuốn tôm thịt - rice paper rolls with vermicelli, shrimp, pork, mint, and lettuce

phở tái nạm gân - pho with rare beef and tendon

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd headcanon #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fic #jason peter todd #sunnie writes 🌻#a soft touch series

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em1e · 1 year ago

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in life & death | shin's death

⿻ mini series ft. you dating shinichiro and whatever chaos that comes from that !! ✕ this is no longer haha funny. angst, character death, sorry!! ♡ series m.list

“hey it's (y/n), leave a message.”

“hey, (y/n) . . . um, listen, i gotta talk to ya about something. give me a call back when you can. thanks, bye.”

wakasa chews at his lip as he shakes his head at benkei, unable to get through to you on your mobile.

“they’re prob’ly at work. not sure how they’ll take it.”

it was almost relieving, you not answering, in some way. gave them time to think about how to break the news to you, time to plan and let you down easy - even though there was nothing easy about what they had to tell.

his lip is bleeding, he realizes when a metallic taste flows freely into his mouth. familiar and unwelcome.

“maybe i should go alone.” wakasa suggests, “don’t wanna overwhelm ‘em with too many people or anythi-”

his phone ringing cuts him off, words dying on his lips as he glances at the caller id.

(y/n) (l/n)

he sucks in a breath and turns away from his friend, clicking the answer button.

“hello?”

“hey waka, what’s up? you called me?”

“yeah. hey, um, are you busy? there’s somethin’ i gotta tell you but it’s gotta be in person.”

there’s shuffling on your end, the sound of something falling followed by your cursing. “yeah, yeah. i’m at work but i leave in like fifteen. do you wanna meet me here? shin was supposed to pick me up but he hasn’t answered my calls.” you mumble something about him maybe being mad at you, but you don’t know what for.

wakasa clears his throat, lip finding itself between his teeth again, “yeah, no, for sure. i can get you.”

“have you talked to shin? he probably tells you more than he tells me - what? i’m leaving soon, i can’t take another table. you only have one anyways, what’s the problem?” there’s more shuffling on your end, then you sigh, “sorry waka, i have to go. see you in a bit?”

“yeah, i’ll see you.”

you hang up. wakasa has to take a breath to steady himself, benkei’s hand finding itself on his shoulder doing less to comfort him and more to make him feel closed in. still, he knows it comes from a good place, and he doesn’t have it in him to push it off until he has to leave to pick you up in a timely manner.

you’re taking the bill from a table when he comes in, offering a small wave as he sets himself at the bar of the diner, going to the register and doing whatever it is you need to to get their change back to them with practiced ease. when you come back to him, untying your apron and folding it neatly as you write down your hours and do whatever other leaving-things you need to, you hum.

“you want anything before we go? i can make you something real quick or get you a drink?”

“nah, ‘m fine.” he waves off easily, but you must see how tired he is, because you frown and go into the back anyways and return with two cups of coffee. he makes a noise of disagreement, low in the back of his throat, but he takes the paper cup as you offer it anyways.

as you leave the diner, make your way to his bike, he stops in his tracks.

“shin’s passed away, (y/n).”

you were in the middle of trying to shove your apron into your bag, not wanting to lose it again to the wind while riding the bike, when you pause to stare at him.

“what?”

“he was killed last night,” he clarifies further, taking a step forward when your hands start to shake and your lip quivers, cup falling from your fingertips.

“that’s not funny, wakasa,” you whisper, shoving at his shoulder when he’s close enough in your reach, “take me to his shop, i want to talk to him.”

“he’s not there, (y/n). not there, not at their house, not in his room-,” his voice breaks off as he looks away, lip finding itself abused between his teeth again. “he’s gone.”

“he’s not.” you’re whispering still, shoving at his shoulders another time because this is just some cruel joke he’s made you victim of, something unfunny and mean and not at all like how wakasa would really treat you because you’re friends, but it’s the only explanation. because what he’s telling you just can’t be true, “i talked to him yesterday, he’s not.”

he grabs your wrists so you stop pushing him, leveling his face evenly with your own, and for once wakasa hate’s how straightforward he is. hates how there was no way to slowly break this to you. hates how shinichiro isn’t here to comfort you because he’s the reason you’re crying.

“he’s gone. i can take you wherever you want to look for him, but it won't matter because he’s dead, (y/n), you have to understand that.” wakasa’s voice almost sounds like he’s begging you to believe him.

the first tear that falls down your cheeks is timed perfectly with your knees buckling, and wakasa is there to catch you. to keep you upright in his embrace while he whispers apology after apology as if he’s at fault for this.

he stays holding you like that for what feels like hours. until your sobs breakdown to something less, until you're able to stand on your own shaky legs and wipe at your face, offering your own small apology for getting his shirt soaked.

“can we go to theirs?” your voice is small as you ask, hoarse from crying, “i want to check on emma and mikey and their grandpa.”

“of course.” he doesn’t recognize his own voice as he speaks, much softer to his own surprise, “i can take you home after.”

you only nod, climbing onto his bike and scooting back so he has space to sit in front of you.

and as he drives you to the sano's residence, there is no comfort in the way one of his hands gently pats your own wrapped at his stomach.

#salmon rowe #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano x reader #sano shinichiro x reader #sano x reader #shinichiro sano #sano shinichiro #tokyo revengers x reader #x reader

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trsrina · 1 year ago

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summer with zerobaseone

written in second person pov, gn reader, fluff, established relationship wc: ~1.5k

!! mentions of food

jiwoong

- the weather’s hot af but jiwoong’s hotter

- no but swimming with jiwoong>>

- idk but i have this idea that jiwoong probably doesn’t know how to swim but since he’s tall af that ability isn’t really necessary, he’s just there to sit there and look hot and make you blush over him.

- would probably attack you with water and it ends up becoming a whole water fight, his whole ‘sit there and look hot’ thing long forgotten

- he would take u window shopping (in this hot ass weather?) you’d be sweating your ass off and this menace would have his sunglasses over his head with his hands in his pocket, walking around cooly like he’s unbothered by the weather

- but still, he’d be holding a mini fan for you and helping u cool off, bring you to air-conditioned areas and spoil you by buying you whatever you want at the mall

zhanghao

- zhanghao would be like the rest of the population

- it is way too hot to go outside and so you two would spend your summers together at home, cooped up in your bed and spending lazy days with the air conditioner on, limbs tangled up together in the cozy embrace of your bed

- movie marathons every single night literally

- you guys would be binge watching any summer series or movie, you laying comfortably in his embrace as the both of you immerse yourselves in the film, his arms draped around you and your head leaning against him

- and since u have so much time on your hands, you two would attempt to bake but it always end up really disastrous, both of you covered in flour as the kitchen’s a mess, laughing hysterically and having fun together

- it’s yours and zhanghao’s world and we’re just living in it

hanbin

- hanbin LOVES going out with u and so, in this weather, going out is typically a hard task but this man would not give up

- probably brings you to one of those rocky beaches yk and walks around with you while your hands are interlocked together and probably brings you to sit down on one of the rocks, overlooking the clear blue ocean as the waves hit the surface, cool ocean breeze helping you cool off

- you were admiring the serene view while he was admiring another view in front of him, you, the most angelic person he has ever laid his eyes upon

- would try to make cold smoothies for you at home, hoping it can somehow cool off the heat

- like he would be exploring new recipes every other day, using different ingredients, trying to find the perfect formula and make your favourite drink, and sometimes u would try (keyword: try) to help but the most work you’ve done was pour things

matthew

- matthew would make u sit there in your living room, on the couch, and watch every single summer disney channel show or movie known to man like imagine watching high school musical 2 with him

- just the two of you being silly and singing along to the songs like matthew would absolutely slay fabulous and the two of you singing duets tgt like gabriella and troy who? i onky know matthew and you.

- would go island-hopping with you like him bringing you on a little trip to the countryside, just having the time of your life riding bikes around and if you don’t know how to, he would teach you and open up your inner child

- buys those bottles of bubbles and run around with you, blowing bubbles

- and dipping your feet into the warm seawater by a small beach, matthew sneakily kicking water towards you and you fighting back, resulting in the both of you soaked in water

- he would spend all of his money on food like you’re eating good this summer. like relaxing cafe dates together, just you two chatting and talking about literally anything and enjoying the day

taerae

- going to music festivals and concerts with taerae omg

- okay but music and u? the two things he loves the most? sign him up.

- u two would have the time of your lives at those concerts, singing your heart out to your favourite artists’ songs and taerae can hardly focus on the concert bc how can he when a literal angel is right next to him?

- others will be looking at the stage but he’s staring and admiring you, the sight of your ecstatic state and wide smile leaves a small lovesick smile on his face

- karaoke with taerae plz u two just vibing to summer songs like imagine dancing and singing to dance the night away by twice with taerae that would be so fun, his astonishingly beautiful voice just makes it better

- both of you letting loose and singing your heart out, letting out all emotions like imagine taerae crying while belting to some love song bc it reminds him of you and he gets emotional

ricky

- he’s young and rich so he brings u on a surprise little summer getaway to some tropical country, makes sure you get to relax throughout the whole trip and he would plan everything for you

- literally spending all day at a spa resort with him and lounging around the hotel swimming pool, getting massages and stuff

- lazing around in your hotel, cuddling until afternoon and him treating you to some fancy brunch while overlooking a beautiful view you can’t normally see in the city

- takes you out shopping and whatever you eyes land on for even just a millisecond, he’s buying it for you like an ugly and useless keychain? u want it, he buys it for u

- this is unserious but imagine ricky fanning u with those big leaves like he’s your servant yk what im saying like boy is so down bad for u

gyuvin

- walking eumppappa with him omg

- gyuvin holding onto eumppappa’s leash with one hand and the other intertwined with your hand, him staring intently into your eyes as you talk about literally any topic, he’d still pay attention and listen

- eumppappa is basically third-wheeling

- when you’re at the dog park, you watch as gyuvin plays catch with his dog although it looked more like two puppies playing together in your opinion, gyuvin excitedly running around with eumppappa following behind him, playing catch with eumppappa and throwing eumppappa’s favourite tennis ball around

- him literally caressing eumppappa’s face lovingly with his large hands, pure ecstasy and joy on his face as a smile full of adoration appears on your face

- and then he treats you to ice cream later, both of you sharing one spoon as gyuvin feeds you and tries to get eumppappa to stop trying to eat your ice cream as you laugh at the scene in front of you

gunwook

- imagine getting slushies with gunwook bc the weather is just so hot and you guys needed a beverage to cool off like you guys would share your drinks and trying the flavours each other got

- and beach date with gunwook!! imagine having a picnic on the beach with him, him literally being down bad for you and feeding you like he barely even eats he’s just there to admire you with sparks in his eyes, intently immersed in what you were chatting about

- like the both of you lying on the mat and your limbs tangled up, your head in his lap as he gently strokes your hair and admires your face

- you and gunwook would be like those cheesy couples that write your names on the sand together smth like ‘gunwook + y/n’ with a heart around it and he giggles to himself about it all day long

- also would splash water on you and play around with you, picks you up and threatens to throw you into the ocean (he’s joking i hope)

yujin

- this boy loves amusement parks so yeah he’d bring you to one. like wearing matching headbands and all

- drags you to every single ride and the whole time you’re queueing up, you’re chatting with him and the long waiting time doesn’t even seem that long anymore bc time always flies by fast when you’re with yujin

- holds your hand on rides like fingers interlocked and during the ride, he would suddenly turn his head to you and stare at you with his cute bunny smile, thinking about how lucky he is to have you

- makes sure you’re feeling well and constantly reminds you to drink some water or buy you cold drinks to make sure you’re okay

- you guys sharing a mini fan but it’s actually just yujin holding it and having it face you most of the time and you getting upset at that and pushing it towards him and you guys just argue about that the whole time

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skelliko · 11 months ago

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Hello! I loved the "when you give him butterflies" it was adorable!! If u don't mind, could u do one for rindou? But feel free to ignore this if don't want to.

Have a good day 🌷

yes certainly! even though you requested rindou I might as well do inui too just so my page is organised :) sorry for the wait, my motivation has dropped but it's back up! for now at least.

★-Tokyo revengers

- you give him butterflies -pt 2

- pt1 -here

๑-context: your 'just friends' but after him getting those butterflies from you they realise their feelings

๑-featuring: rindou, seishu

°- Rindou Haitani

• it was a bit of a shock to him, it left a warm sensation running down his body and his heart racing making him take a quick deep breath before slowly letting go all while trying to act cool, but really deep down he was left panicked

• butterflies fluttering around inside his stomach wasn't anything new but it certainly wasn't anything he's used to and knowing that your the cause for this fuzzy feeling he's getting is making him admire you in an entirely different way than before, his eyes glimmered and he was left a little speechless.

• you both were on a little trip to get something from a shop but rindou didn't know where to go since it was in a small town that he hasn't been to yet, there was a singular moment where he lost you because he was looking at the surroundings but once you found him you chose to hold onto his sleeve around his wrist

• you holding onto rindou's sleeve to drag him around and make sure that you both don't get split up, that was all fine and whatever but it was how your hand would occasionally brush against his hand and you still didn't let go nor fumble on your words

• in that moment rindou debated in either making you let go or just straight up holding your hand, but he didn't do either

• 'please let go... no dont let go' -in his mind

• even when you let go of him the butterflies and that warm feeling when your hand brushed against his still lingered and it almost felt like you never let go.

• there's no way you can get him free now, the physical grasp is gone but mentally it's as if you're holding onto him, he's confused about how he should feel and what's right or wrong because the worst thing that could happen between you two is never talking again, for once he's afraid of his own feelings.

°- Seishu Inui

• it was a bit of a step back for him. an odd feeling known as butterflies lingering in his stomach wasn't his plan at all and all his current focus has disappeared, it became difficult to concentrate and it was as if he has just got brain fog

• seishu was fixing his motorbike but as you sat down next to him your signature scent filled his nose and he felt a little at peace, well that was until his insides became a butterfly sanctuary. and taking a small look at you as you're admiring his hard work is certainly not helping him calm down for whatever this current feeling is.

• because how can you sit right next to him and accidently brush your knees together and look all pretty and cute? your torturing him. how can you be interested in his notes that he has scattered around about how to fix certain parts of the bike as if they interest you?

• how can you do all that and not kiss his cheek? or maybe lips... I mean you might as well considering how close you chose to sit next to him. well of course you didn't but Inui certainly had that on his mind that it was hard for him to look away from you

• he tried to look back at the motorbike and comfortably hold the wrench in hand to carry on but by that point he was afraid he would mess up because his heart was pounding way too much for his comfort and just your presence right here is making the air feel both sweet but heavy. he's nervous.

• he wants to open his chest with the wrench he's holding right now just to shut up his heart and make the butterflies leave

• this is definitely the start to his feelings but when will it end? when will he have the courage to change what you both have now, to be greater? he doesn't, but as of currently he wants you to leave just so he can quickly sort himself out because if you stay any longer he'd probably just impulsively confess without much thought.

♡----

#tokyo revengers #rindou haitani #rindou #rindou x reader #seishu inui #seishu x reader #seishu #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #inui seishu x reader #rindou haitani x reader #rindou fluff #inui fluff

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https-florals · 2 years ago

Text

you said, baby, no attachments - r.c.

part one || part two

word count: 2k

summary: after a very stupid, very impulsive night with rafe, you make a lot of questionable decisions.

warnings: mentions of sex, suggestive!!! friends-with-benefits but without the friends, mentions of drinking, cursing, little angst, little fluff.

a/n: FIRST EVER RAFE FIC!!!!! i have such a massive crush on drew starkey and tbh i’m shocked ive waited this long to write my bae rafe. anywayssss if this doesnt flop lol there may or may not be a pt 2 im working on!!! my plan is for this to have four parts, but that could change and i might condense it. this is based on casual by chappell roan!!

Stupid things have good outcomes all the time. JJ lives by that phrase, and after hearing it for years, it’s rubbed off on you. But apparently, that’s not a good excuse in an argument with him, and here you are, palms sweaty and slipping off your bike handles, repeating the words over and over and over like you’re trying to convince yourself they’re true.

Today’s stupid thing? Responding to a text from none other than Rafe Cameron. Okay, that’s been your stupid thing for about a month.

You had a little thing going with Rafe. It started at a party, a drunk hookup, neither participant quite realizing who the other was until they woke up in bed together. You had practically run from Tannyhill like the house was on fire, only after both of you fought a little, fucked a little more, and then promised never to speak of it again. You had thought that this pact also entailed speaking to each other, but about a week later Rafe caught you at work, smiled at you, and hit you with some stupid line you couldn’t quite remember. Something about being the prettiest girl in the room, which wasn’t exactly hard, considering you were indeed the only girl in the room as you worked the counter at the country club’s pro shop. When he slipped back his signed receipt to you, there were 10 digits scrawled across the bottom below his signature.

“Rafe, what is this?” you had to ask, tone a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

He shrugged, and attempted to grab his bag and run out, but you slid the fancy paper bag away from him. “I thought that we said we weren’t gonna talk to each other anymore,” you had stated softly, smiling at the way his cheeks tinted a little pink.

“Nah, I said I didn’t wanna talk about it,” he stressed, “But talking to you is way different.”

You just rolled your eyes and pushed the bag back to him, and he waved you goodbye as he left.

You can count on one hand all the interactions you’ve had with that boy, and that had to be the oddest. Well, maybe not as odd as having sex with him.

A week passed before you texted him. It wasn’t for anything really important, a scolding, if anything. All you did was remind him that again, he can’t just randomly take his shirt off while golfing. It’s a sophisticated establishment, the old ladies complain, blah, blah, blah. His response?

rafe c. - so you’re saying i distract you?

Yes, unfortunately, that is exactly what you’re saying.

The situations just get weirder, when the first time the two of you hang out is when you call him for a ride to the grocery store. No one’s at the Chateau, you’re out of gas, and every form of transportation you could possibly steal for a bit is with their respective owners. You doubt you could’ve balanced on JJ’s bike anyways.

The ride is a little awkward, but by the end you feel.. Comfortable. At peace, almost, in the Kook prince’s passenger seat with his hand ghosting over your knee. In the grocery store, it’s painfully obvious Rafe has never been shopping for food in The Cut. He’s wrinkling his nose at the cheap prepackaged salmon you buy, with generic bread crumbs. But then he helps you comb through the bell peppers to find decent ones, and carries your groceries to his truck. He even lets you play whatever you want over the aux.

You’re waking up with him in your bed the next morning, pushing him out the window so no one sees him.

And that’s how it starts, and how it continues- brief text convos, long hangouts, good sex and fake nonchalance. He stays true to what he said, and you don’t talk about it. To anybody. That was the whole thing- it was understood that it was a secret. No strings attached, forbidden kind of kook and pogue relations that would have your friends livid.

So why are you so nervous on this particular evening? Maybe it’s because Rafe let it slip to Sarah that you’re hooking up. Maybe cause Sarah just had to say something to John B, who then told JJ, who then fought with you in front of the entire group. Everyone knows, and everyone is telling you you’re crazy. It’s not something you can handle, so when you see that Rafe asked you to come over, you’re hopping on your bike and speeding to Tannyhill.

When you get there, you automatically rush into Rafe’s room, a sweaty mess.

He’s laying on his bed, in just boxers as he scrolls on his phone. He jumps when you walk in, setting his phone down quick and standing up like you’re the queen or something.

Your gaze tracks to a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues on his nightstand, and you groan and fake gag as you flop facedown onto the mattress.

There’s an almost soundless little intake of air, but you do hear it, and cut Rafe off before he can even speak.

“I’m not helping you get off!” you declare loudly, and the boy visibly deflates.

“Come on,” he whines, like a little kid not getting his way. “You came in at the perfect time.”

You roll over so he’s in your peripheral vision, and huff. “I’m mad at you.”

He sticks his bottom lip out, a little mocking as he crawls onto the bed beside you. “Awe, what’d I do now?” Rafe lays on his side, head propped up on his hand as he watches you. He likes to watch the way his lamp reflects in your eyes, and how you roll your eyes everytime you catch him staring at you. His fingers creep up your side, but you push him off. Oh. You really are mad, he thinks.

“Why would you tell Sarah?” you ask, voice quiet as you stare him down. The apples of his cheeks turn a little pink, and his eyes widen.

“Uh, what did I tell her?” Rafe lies, because he remembers exactly what he said to Sarah, and the way her jaw dropped after he spoke.

“I just- I really like her, Sarah. Forget about the sex and all that shit. When I’m talking to her, it feels like…” He’s stumbling over his words, not quite able to say what he wants. “She’s fresh air, and I feel like I’ve been stuck in a room without windows, or some shit.”

He was never much of a poet. He also remembers the vise-like grip she had on his arm as she told him she would kill him if he ever hurt you. Rafe promised he could never.

But right now he lies, lies and tries to level his voice. He’s a little shocked that you believe him, or at least don’t press the topic further.

“You told her we were sleeping together!” You hiss, lightly smacking him on the side of his head.

He winces, but internally he’s heaving a sigh of relief. He makes a mental note to never get drunk with his sister ever again as you continue to rant. It’s something about the Pogues wanting to kill him (nothing new), along with a couple of jabs about how he’s just the worst, and that he's annoying, and blah, blah, blah. Rafe isn’t really listening, rather just thinking about his stupid decisions. One of which is looking real pretty as she yells at him. Pretty enough to fall in love with. He absentmindedly tucks your hair behind your ear and you instantly exhale, losing your train of thought altogether in record time. It’s like you have the attention span of a damn goldfish around him.

You just groan again, and murmur, “I can’t stand you,” right before you press your lips to his.

Rafe laughs against you, pulling you on top of him in one smooth motion. “Good thing you’re sitting on top of me then.”

His hands slip under your shirt, and your fingers push through his hair. The calluses on his hands scrape against the soft skin of your stomach and catch on the lace of your bra. Hard hands for daddy’s money, you think. Your fingers tuck against his jawline, cradling his face while his tongue slips against yours, his lips curling up when you make any little noise.

You pull back to catch your breath, and Rafe just stares up at you, kind of punchdrunk.

“Rafe?”

“Mhm?” He reaches up to brush his thumb over your lips.

You’re silent for a second as you think about what you’re about to say. ‘What- What are we doing?”

Rafe’s mouth is parted, and you can’t quite decipher his expression as you watch his eyes flick over your face. He swallows, and says, “Whatever you want.”

You don’t really hear him, and blurt out, “I need this to be casual.”

“Casual?” he repeats.

“Strictly like, sex. No strings attached.”

He sits up, pulling you with him so you’re still on his lap but he’s eye level to you. He’s hard underneath you, but you ignore it as you continue to speak.

“Okay, just sex. Why?”

It’s actually very hard to ignore, literally and figuratively. Rafe is thinking the same thing when you clear your throat and move a little on him, subconsciously.

You shrug. “Listen, I don’t have the time for anything more than that. Plus, we know we couldn’t date, like ever.”

He nods, fake-stretching as a means to buck up against you. “And why couldn’t we date?” When you give him an incredulous look, he continues, “Just to play devil’s advocate. Not that I don’t agree with you, cause I totally do. I just wanna know what you’re like, thinking, if we’re on the same wavelength, or whatever…” He trails off, knowing he’s babbling and should stop.

You laugh a little nervously. “Okay, Cameron.” You take a deep breath, and hope that what you’re about to say makes sense. “I have an itch to scratch, and the only thing I want to do is scratch that itch.” You pause to think. “Itch that scratch?”

“You had it right the first time,” Rafe laughs, but the lilt of it is a little annoyed.

“Okay, whatever. Anyway, you’re good at scratching that itch.”

He grins with pride, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and just the way he’s looking at you makes you squirm.

“Really good at scratching that itch,” you exhale a little shaky. “But y’know, I don’t really like you as a person.”

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “The fuck? Thanks a lot.”

“You’re an asshole, Rafe. Plain and simple. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but come on.” You’re thinking of all the times he’s been an absolute dick to your friends.

He’s thinking about all the things he’d lay down for you. “Not to you.”

Your words evidently sting him a bit, and you go red. You hadn’t really meant to hurt him.

You groan. “You know what I mean. My friends hate you. We just couldn’t work.”

Rafe doesn’t really know what to say. This isn’t really the way he thought this would go, but then again, what did he really expect? Everything is jumbled in his head, and all he wants to do is get high and forget about the conversation. But, even though you basically just told him that he's unlikable, you’re still regrettably pretty, and still on top of him. He grips your hips hard, holding you in place as he rolls against you. “So fuck buddies, but we can’t stand each other?” One hand snakes underneath your shirt to unclip your bra, and he does it faster than you can blink.

“Exactly,” you say somewhere in between both of your shirts coming off. “Just stress relief.”

His hands are hot all over you. There’s a hardness in his gaze that’s so different from the softness of his touch.

“We have to have rules,” you manage to state when you’re shimmying out of your shorts, breathing hard while Rafe toys with the little pink bow on your panties.

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.”

It’s a filler phrase, you think. He must desperate for you to shut up and fuck him, so he’s saying anything.

He’s still thinking about how he’d do anything for you. Anything.

You still for a second to catch your breath, and say, “No feelings. No staying overnight. And we can’t go anywhere together that we would be seen.”

“Why not?” Rafe groans as your clothed heat slips over him.

“Rafe! People will talk. They’ll think…”

He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. “That we’re fucking? Well, hate to break it to ya, baby, but we kinda already are.”

“And no calling me baby.”

Rafe ignores you and slips his hand between your legs, and you forget that you’re supposed to hate him.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfiction #obx2 #obx fic #obx netflix

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nutty1005 · 9 months ago

Text

3 Xiao Zhan.

Original Article: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/7YZimnoaGOkx-vTeiPyckg Original Author: 智族GQ Translator’s note: The article will be published in the February 2024 Issue of GQ

Xiao Zhan: Clear goals, accepting results

01 Relaxation

The studio was by the Huangpu River in Shanghai, Xiao Zhan was wrapped in a black down jacket, he had took off his shoes, and sat cross-legged on the corner of the sofa, looking very relaxed. The filming came to an end for the time being. Although he had been working continuously for more than 7 hours, there was no trace of fatigue on his face.

This is a face that attracts attention all the time. A few months ago, the studio released a Xiao Zhan’s birthday photoshoot, and keen-eyed netizens immediately noticed that his face had “became rounder”. In order to play the character of Guo Jing in the movie “The Legend of the Condor Heroes: The Great Hero”, which was directed by Tsui Hark, Xiao Zhan gained weight before joining the group, his cheeks were no longer so thin and his figure was obviously more buff. In the photographs, he had a stubble and the vicissitudes of life were slightly visible on him.

Strictly speaking, “The Legend of the Condor Heroes: The Great Hero” was Xiao Zhan’s second movie. There were many previous classic versions of Guo Jing’s character, and the pressure on him was obviously visible.

On the day of the cover shoot for “GQ”, Xiao Zhan got up very early to go for a run. He could not help but think, my God, I am going to lose muscle mass again after sweating so much. He debated whether to continue, and finally decided to run for 30 minutes. When the time came, he remembered that body fat would start burning after 30 minutes, so he ran for an additional 10 minutes.

Brown suit jacket, vest, trousers, horse buckle loafers, all Gucci

All of these is for work. “Actually, I don’t want to run. Running will lose muscles mass, but I have to run to reduce swelling.” After the filming, he planned to do weights training no matter how late it was. An actor’s self-discipline is to be always ready to shape his image for the character, but he must also strictly control his diet and manage his body shape. Xiao Zhan regards both as professional standards and expects himself to do so

Before meeting, I thought Xiao Zhan would be very cautious about interviews. To my surprise, Xiao Zhan had a rare sense of relaxation, answered all questions, and was even humorous. When mentioning that actors should observe characters in life, he commented on the sitting postures of several people present; when asked what things he did not expect after joining the industry, his answer was that he could not eat whatever he wanted like his high school classmates.

The interview lasted for almost two hours, I became curious about what kind of experience it had been for Xiao Zhan, who had been under immense attention in the past few years. Xiao Zhan said instead that he had forgotten this matter frequently and it did not cause him a lot of trouble in life, the most “cruel” thing might have been “being unable eat as much as you want”.

“I will still sneak out to ride my bike, take a walk, and do a City Walk. There was only one time when I was recognized after walking in a alley for 5 minutes. I also mingled into the cinema and watched a movie. No one will care about you, really. After leaving the Internet, many things will be solved easily. Sometimes it seems like what is before our eyes is the world, this is a misunderstanding, but yet we cannot avoid this misunderstanding, so there is no way around it.”

There were so many things he especially wanted to do, such as taking the subway and going shopping. “I will really squeeze onto the subway, perhaps tomorrow, it’s so normal, I used to take the subway every day.” For Xiao Zhan, this was the life he really wanted. The voices of social media no longer bothered him, “After all these years, can I still live if I’m still bothered? (laughs) It’s really just fine.”

At this stage, Xiao Zhan is very satisfied with his living situation. “I have a job, a life of my own, and an audience that likes me. I have nothing to be dissatisfied with.”

Denim jacket with GG print details, trousers, and horse buckle loafers, all from Gucci

02 Becoming an Actor

To a certain extent, Xiao Zhan’s sense of relaxation stems from his increasingly clear goals. The voices from the external world no longer bothered him, he is clear about what he wants and what he do not want. Now, he is doing more subtraction for himself. In the past two years, he had rarely appeared in variety shows, taking the career of actor as his most important goal at this moment.

In 2023, 3 television dramas starring Xiao Zhan broadcasted, and each character was a challenge for Xiao Zhan. During the interview, Xiao Zhan said many times that he was “under a lot of pressure”, and he said this almost every time when reviewing every stage. But his tone was light, without the heaviness of complaints, more like a post analysis and summary, the reasons were often specific and objective: the first time he came into contact with performing without props, the first time he took on the leading role alone, the first time he acted in an modern drama…

“Where Dreams Begin / The Youth Memories” was a script that Xiao Zhan particularly liked. He liked stories about that generation very much, as a child he watched some television dramas such as “Once Upon a Time in Beijing” and “Happiness as Flowers”. When he mentioned the 1970s and 1980s, he felt that it was sunny and bright, it was colorful. Many people said that Xiao Chunsheng was a perfect character, but to Xiao Zhan that happened to be his greatest flaw, he thought this character was very interesting and wanted to give it a try. Xiao Chunsheng was a young man from Beijing, hence how to express the character’s imposing manner and speak authentic Beijing dialect was a big challenge for Xiao Zhan, who had lived in Chongqing since childhood.

Denim jacket with GG print details, trousers, and horse buckle loafers, all from Gucci

The Shi Ying character in “The Longest Promise” was aloof, because he did not want to let down everyone’s expectations for his ancient costume appearance, Xiao Zhan tried his best to lose weight before joining the group. “‘The Longest Promise’ was a script I got in 2020. It had the most complete character and most delicate emotions from the scripts I could choose from, it was also very logical and self-consistent, it was my best choice.”

“Sunshine By My Side” was a script that Xiao Zhan has been exposed to for the longest time, starting from the end of 2019. Although Sheng Yang in “Sunshine By My Side” closely overlapped with Xiao Zhan’s pre-debut career, but for him to move his life as a designer to the screen and act in a natural and convincing manner, he did not have confidence. “Modern dramas and life dramas are really unfamiliar fields.” Initially, he was too eager to finish his lines and memorized them completely, but when he said them, it made people think that no one in real life would speak like this, later on he discovered where to break the lines and which words to emphasize in modern dramas, and the logic was actually very strong.

In the past few years, he had acted as a soldier, a doctor, a designer, and a Beijing youth. There were no special considerations, and they all happened naturally. He rarely acted in recurring roles. But when choosing a script, Xiao Zhan would not deliberately avoid themes that he had acted in before, instead he will just put himself in the audience’s perspective to feel whether he could be moved by it.

In 2021, Xiao Zhan starred in the theater play “A Dream Like a Dream”, playing the role of Patient No. 5. On the day of the premiere, many topics related to theater appeared on Weibo hot searches, becoming a phenomenon-level event in the theater circle.

Silver sequin embellished suit ERL, black wide-leg trousers Heliot Emil, black deconstructed embellished shorts Egonlab

On acting in “A Dream Like A Dream”, Xiao Zhan hesitated for a long time. There are many reasons for his hesitation: he was from Chongqing, he was not from a professional background, there is no NG in theater plays, it would last for 8 hours, “Dream Like a Dream” was also very famous, and there had been many classic versions of Patient No. 5 prior. But after reading the script, Xiao Zhan felt that he must perform in it.

Theater play is a very pure thing. Dozens or even hundreds of people gather in a space to tell a story, this is an experience that film and television cannot bring, hence Xiao Zhan yearns for it. He began to maniacally memorize his lines, and enclosed himself in Tangshan to rehearse intensively with the entire group for more than a month, grinding out one scene after another.

“I was very nervous for the first performance. I am still nervous now when I think about it. When Gu Xianglan rang the bell, I shuddered.” The instant the light hit him, Xiao Zhan felt that everything had stopped, he could not see the expressions of the audience under the stage and there was only white left in front of him.

Xiao Zhan adjusted his breathing and began to speak his lines. The director said that the actors in the opening scene controlled the rhythm of the entire story, so every time he said that line, Xiao Zhan was most nervous. As he spoke, he would gradually forget about his nervousness, and after he was done speaking, he would let out a long sigh of relief, and think, ah, it has finally ended.

Once, towards the end of the first half of the performance, Patient No. 5 went on stage to find Gu Xianglan with a painting and an address, and had a long monologue. Walking to the middle of the stage, Xiao Zhan’s mind suddenly stumbled. He could not remember the beginning of the next line. After hesitating for about 1.5 seconds, he chose to skip that word and continued. The audience should not be able to tell the difference, he thought. He could not remember that word even until the end of the performance.

“I couldn’t remember it even when I got to the lounge, so I flipped over the script to take a look, so it was this word.”

“Which word?”

“A very common word, for example, pure drinking water, I was thinking what kind of drinking water? Distilled water? Tap water? Boiled water? I just couldn’t remember it.” Xiao Zhan replied.

Brown vest, trousers both Gucci

Acting is a domain with very profound knowledge. Xiao Zhan said: “I have only scratched the surface so far.” When filming “Sunshine By My Side”, the co-actors were all experienced actors, and in terms of acting skills, Xiao Zhan was still very immature, tended to be over forceful and left traces of performance marks. He told himself to “be less pretentious”, feel everything the other party throws at him with his heart, and respond honestly.

Xiao Zhan once expressed that he had difficulty understanding many characters due to his limited life experience. He had discussed this issue with his seniors, “Everyone has two opinions. Some people will say that of course you have to go through it, without experience, you don’t have a image, how can you portray it? All that you act is fake. Also, there is a voice saying that everything can be resolved by technique.”

Xiao Zhan’s own answer is, “Act more and be exposed to all types of genres” and “cooperate with more good teams, actors and directors.”

“To be honest, what I can do now is to act what my thoughts can reach, it is really difficult for me to act something that I have no concept of at all. Maybe in the future, through a work or cooperation with more good directors and actors, my confusion can be solved. I look forward to this day coming soon.“

Black deconstructed long leather jacket Juun J Black printed shirt Egonlab Black jumpsuit Zickness Savoy clothing bag Gucci

03 Decluttering

Relaxation is a side of Xiao Zhan, he can balance some of the pressure, but there is a part of it that is difficult for him to resolve. Xiao Zhan does not sleep well. “It’s very difficult for me to fall asleep, and I sleep very lightly, there will be situations where I don’t feel rested after sleeping, which affects my state the next day.” This would happen especially when he just joined the drama group and would be in a state of high nervousness, he would often dream about filming on set, but the filming did not go well.

When he would go to different cities, Xiao Zhan would bring the same type of pillows and quilts. “I will bring anything that can help me sleep well.” He had also tried aromatherapy lamps, lavender essential oil, various products that could make him fall asleep when applied on his body, medicinal spray on the pillow that could make people fall asleep, melatonin and meditation music. In the end, he found that the best things that made him sleep well were sleep masks, earplugs, and not looking at his phone, “because I know that once I look at it, I won’t sleep, then I might as well get up.”

Not long ago, Xiao Zhan found an old book “Decluttering” at home. That was recommended to him by his ex-company boss when he was working as a designer. The concept of organizing life described in the book made Xiao Zhan start to rethink what he wanted and what he should give up.

Xiao Zhan has a particularly obstinate side to his character, “If it’s something I insist on and I think that is right, it will be difficult to convince me.” For example, when he decided to be an actor, he did not want to do anything outside of being an actor, “You come and force me, then let’s debate. No one is right or wrong, the team is also doing this for your own good, since isn’t it a good thing to have a lot of work? But for me, I have to subtract because some things are really not what I want.”

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Xiao Zhan’s acting experience began with a story about “an older commoner chasing dreams in the entertainment industry”. He participated in the talent show at the age of 24, learned dance from scratch, debuted as a boy band, acted in online dramas, played supporting roles in theater movies, until 2019 when he became popular, Xiao Zhan also became a star that attracted attention.

When you decide to do something, you must try your best to do it well. This was what Xiao Zhan has been taught since childhood, when he was in junior high school, his family bought him a mobile phone. When he first started texting, he often used spaces to replace punctuation marks, his father then said to him sternly, “What about the punctuation marks? Why is there no period at the end of the sentence?” From that time on, Xiao Zhan was very concerned about punctuation marks.

Xiao Zhan had been competitive since he was a child, and he was not willing to miss any opportunity when it came to things he could control. When he was taking the bus to school, he would worry about the person on the bus who was asleep and would missed the stop.

For things that he could not control, he would remind himself not to force them and learn to accept them. Until then, do what he could.

When asked which drama Xiao Zhan obtained with his own hard work, Xiao Zhan’s answer was surprising. He said: “Every one.” Before becoming famous, he auditioned for many dramas, and also experienced being replaced after entering the final round of auditions and even trialed the drama in costume. Now, of course, scripts would be handed over, but Xiao Zhan would always tell himself that people only had intentions and could hand them over to many people at the same time. If he found one he really liked, he would take the initiative to meet with the director to explain his understanding of the character.

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Xiao Zhan believes that it is important to have a correct attitude

Xiao Zhan’s growing up environment was no different from that of many born in the 1990s. Mother and father would go to work, grandmother would cook at home, and he would go to and from school every day. If he did not do well in the exam, he would be beaten. After dinner at 6:30 every night, the children would ask him downstairs to play hide-and-seek, wooden figurines, and throw sandbags, as he talked about these, he was very happy. These ordinary little things seemed so precious now. Xiao Zhan said that he was very grateful for the first 23 years of his life before his dream adventure in the entertainment industry. “I cherish it very much, I think it is good.”

He thought that if he had not entered the entertainment industry, he would have lived a life like his classmates and friends, accompanying clients for meals every day, going home and staying up late to catch up on designs.

“Being seen” is a happy thing. No matter how busy he was at work, Xiao Zhan never complained, “If you have a job, then work hard.” “While filming “The Oath of Love”, he was also recording the variety show “Our Song”. During the intervals while waiting for scenes, he would hum softly with his earphones on. The other actors would come over curiously, and Xiao Zhan would smiled sheepishly, explaining that he was practicing the song he was going to sing in the evening. “I don’t have time, I really don’t have time.” At that time, work occupied almost all of his life.

Xiao Zhan rarely takes the initiative to give himself a holiday. “It’s not realistic,” he said flatly. When he was most tired, he could fall asleep just sitting on the set.

This year, Xiao Zhan had a sense of urgency regarding “acting inexperience”, “compared with some seniors, they have already acted in many works in their thirties.” Xiao Zhan knows very clearly that his acting could not improve in leaps and bounds just from one drama, “this might be hard for it to happen to me.”

He once thought about whether to be an actor with a personal style or an actor that the audience would like after watching it. His answer was the latter, “everyone may not be your fan, or even not particularly interested in you, but when you know that he has a drama on and you might want to watch it because his dramas are pretty good. I want to do that, that’s my current goal. Whether or not I can become the level of the actors I like is a long way to go, take it slowly.”

“Making more dramas and cooperating with more good teams, this is just the one goal at the moment, I won’t consider other things for the time being.” Xiao Zhan said.

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Q&A About Acting

GQ: When did it become clear that you wanted to be an actor? Xiao Zhan: When the public started paying more and more attention to me, I wanted to say, why can’t I do it? I think I can. Sometimes I waver and feel it’s so difficult. Why can’t I do it? For example, when it comes to lines, why are they just not good? Why can’t I speak as well as the others? Is it because I’m from the South? I don’t think so. Then I think, so how can I speak well? I can do it, give it a try.

GQ: In your opinion, what are the professional standards for actors? Xiao Zhan: First of all, having excellent professional skills is an unavoidable topic. You can have a non-professional background, but you must have excellent professional skills. This is what I want to do and what I’m currently doing. I feel like I’m not enough, too far behind. After having excellent professional skills, attitude is very important and whether you love it or not is also very important. If you only view it as a job, you may not be able to go very far. But if you really love it, you will cry for it and laugh for it. This may be the motivation for you to persist. Also having a strong body (laughs), I used to not feel tired when I was in my twenties, but now I will feel very tired after staying up late. This is a terrible thing, it is important to have a strong body, this is your foundation.

GQ: When acting in which character or drama did you feel recognition for? Xiao Zhan: At the beginning, when I was working on “The Wolf”, I was under a lot of pressure, the acting teacher would give me a lot of advice and guidance, and I would constantly subvert my acting method every day, it was a period of confusion. After you got over it, you would find that you have grown, and when you started acting again later, you would gradually find a little bit of feeling, and then you would get over it step by step, this was a cumulative process. I feel that I have too little acting experience. Compared with some of the seniors, who have accumulated many works in their thirties, my current works are still too few and I have not accumulated enough.

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GQ: Do you feel worried? Xiao Zhan: Yes. Because I think (improving acting skills) is a cumulative process. You can’t take a big step with just one movie. This is hard for that to happen to me, so I have to keep filming, and to keep filming good dramas, don’t waste yourself

GQ: The 3 dramas broadcasted in 2023 stretched from ancient costume to era dramas and urban dramas, what were the considerations? Xiao Zhan: Actually, there were no considerations, it just happened naturally, there were no deliberate avoidance of themes I had acted in before, it’s just (selection) by reading the script. When the scripts were handed to me at that time, I felt attracted to a certain script at the moment, so I chose it, it just happened to be a theme that I had never acted in before.

GQ: Do you feel tired from acting in ancient costume dramas all the time? Xiao Zhan: There are many types of ancient costume dramas, don’t have to separate them into ancient costume dramas and modern dramas, it’s nothing more than sticking on a wig and changing clothes, actually the core is the same, but the outer shell is different.

GQ: Once the drama you filmed airs, will you follow it? Xiao Zhan: I won’t follow them, but I will watch them, I will choose the big scenes that I care about and watch them, counts as me looking for problems for myself.

GQ: Will you watch with the scrolling comments? Xiao Zhan: I used to do it really, and I felt very entertained, laughing and joking with everyone, but now I won’t do it.

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GQ: What kind of character do you want to play now? Xiao Zhan: If I could choose, the best would be the ones I haven’t tried before. I need freshness. If I ask you to do the same thing every day, you will be bored.

GQ: What kind of actor do you want to be? Xiao Zhan: I want to be an actor that the audience can like.

GQ: Have you not already done this to make people like you? Xiao Zhan: No, no, I think it’s far from enough. I once thought about whether to be an actor with a personal style or to be an actor that the audience likes just by looking at you. Currently I want to be an actor who makes the audience feel good. Everyone may not be your fan, or even not particularly interested in you, but when you know that he has a drama on and you might want to watch it because his dramas are pretty good. I want to do that, that’s my current goal. Whether or not I can become the level of the actors I like is a long way to go, take it slowly.

GQ: Who are your favorite actors? Xiao Zhan: Many, for example Zhou Xun has always been my favorite actress. I recently watched her movie (“Across the Furious Sea”) and it was really great.

GQ: What are your career plans in 2024? Xiao Zhan: Making more dramas and cooperating with more good teams, this is just the one goal at the moment, I won’t consider other things for the time being.

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Q&A About Life

GQ: Do voices on social media bother you? Xiao Zhan: It doesn’t bother me. After all these years, can I still live if I’m still bothered? (laughs) It’s really just fine. It’s fine as long as I am clear about what I am doing. Every time you make a choice, you must clearly know what you are doing, what you have to give up, and what you have to do. So, it’s fine, maybe the team has more troubles.

GQ: Is your personal life unaffected? Xiao Zhan: Very normal! I can go out for a bike ride and a stroll. When you’re walking down the street, no one really cares about you. It’s really not what everyone imagines. Then I walked around freely.

GQ: Are those escape moments for you? Xiao Zhan: Moments of relaxation. Why do I need to escape? I am also in the third dimension, where should I escape to, this is my life, I am the same as everyone. There are many things I particularly want to do, such as squeezing onto the subway and shopping in shopping malls, which are very similar to when I was in school, and maybe I will do them in the future.

GQ: Do you miss the ordinary life very much? Xiao Zhan: It’s not that I miss it, it’s that I think I should do it, this is living. I will really take squeeze into the subway, perhaps tomorrow, it’s so normal, I used to take the subway every day. To me, there’s nothing I can’t do, so what if you discover me? Say hello and leave. It’s just that I don’t want to cause confusion, trouble, or bad reactions to everyone.

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Q&A About Personality

GQ: You haven’t appeared on variety shows in recent years. Is this a conscious choice? Xiao Zhan: Because it’s not suitable, with my personality, being in a variety show is too tiring, I would want to take care of everyone’s feelings, which would make myself very tired. Since I know that it would be this result, then I might as well don’t do it.

GQ: What was your original intention in entering the entertainment industry? Xiao Zhan: I really broke in mysteriously with confusion. The talent shows I used to watch would interview the top contestants, how did you get to this point? The contestant would say that I accompanied my friend to participate in the selection, but my friend failed and I was selected. When I was a child, I thought these things were far away from me, but when it came to myself, it’s really like this, and I think it’s amazing. I entered the idol competition, then I got here and that’s it. Very amazing, life is very interesting.

GQ: What things have you not thought of before after joining the industry? Xiao Zhan: It is a very cruel thing to not be able to to eat freely. When I see my former high school classmates who already have children and have put on some weight, I will sigh, I also want to eat freely like this. Their living status makes me feel that if I had not chosen this path at that time, maybe we would all be the same, we have to socialize and stay up late to catch up on designs, you don’t know how tiring it is to do design, but life is like this and there is no other way.

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GQ: How has choosing this path changed you? Xiao Zhan: Maybe I lack a lot of life experiences, in this regard, my classmates and friends are far better than me. They have experienced real things. There are no cameras facing you, no lights, you are living your own real life.

GQ: Are you an emotionally stable person? Xiao Zhan: Comparatively, more, stable. But once it hits some points, I will become very unstable.

GQ: For example? Xiao Zhan: Just… some things that cannot be said, haha. Maybe when something incredulous happens, you will think, what are you doing, or, when something happens that normal people would not do, I will become very angry. Maybe it’s some privacy issue, if this point is breached, I will go “berserk”. Everyone has their own boundaries, and some people have no sense of proportion, I will just stay away from these kind of people. But when the boundaries are broken again and again and the bottom line is touched, I will get very angry.

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GQ: You once said that you have a particularly tenacious side to your personality. What do you mean specifically? Xiao Zhan: Principles, I am a very obstinate person, if it’s something I insist on and I think that is right, it will be difficult to convince me. For example, if I want to be an actor and I don’t want to do anything other than being an actor, if you come and force me, then let’s debate. No one is right or wrong, the team is also doing this for your own good, since isn’t it a good thing to have a lot of work? But for me, I have to subtract because some things are really not what I want.

GQ: Do you have a perfectionist side? Xiao Zhan: I just want to do it well, and do my best in the current moment. Maybe the result is not good, but what can I do, this is all I can do.

GQ: Can you accept failure? Xiao Zhan: I can accept. I might not have been able to accept it a few years ago, but 32-year-old Xiao Zhan has learned to accept this (laughs).

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#xiao zhan #xiaozhan #肖战 #sean xiao

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