#out of service || ooc post

[experimental-blueprints]

// you guys really have Bianca a pipebomb for her birthday that’s crazy

[experimental-blueprints]

// WOW YOU GUYS VOTED THE DEAD ONE THE PRETTIEST IM IN TEARS LMAO

{POLL CHAMPIONSHIP 1, ROUND 7}

OCs by @experimental-blueprints , @snow-capped-graphics, @pastel-rights <33

[askchilchuck]

*hands Chilchuck a huge bouquet of flowers and runs away. There's a note that apparently thanks him for existing and making everyone happy*

Oh, uh, thank you? Why’d they run away…

[chronicparagon]

Writing About Historical and Intergenerational Trauma

This is a post I've been thinking about since last night. I won't go into detail about what happened, but it made me think. I wasn't involved (but it came to my dash). It involved how different races, ethnicities, and cultures are represented in media. That includes writing and yes, even rps.

I want to make a post about including People of Color (PoC) in writing and the trauma they faced. This incident was what I viewed as an attempt to be historically accurate but wasn't handled properly. There is nothing wrong with including experiences that PoC characters had or perceptions other people had of these characters, but it must be handled appropriately because it can reinforce stereotypes, trigger people who are very sensitive to these topics, hurt readers who are PoC or otherwise, cause drama, and risk bringing in toxicity in communities.

I thought it may help if I share a bit about how to write about historical and intergeneration trauma, specifically racism, and how it's perceived.

Before I begin, I want to give my positionality. I am Native American (southeastern) and I also work in tribal health and studied Indigenous Health. While I specialized in infectious diseases and cultural competence in medicine, trauma and its impacts on PoC are frequently discussed in my work and with my colleagues. My work includes appreciating Indigenous knowledge and cultures, and how to improve healthcare research by including the knowledge and cultures of Indigenous people as our leaders and partners. Although I am not perfect and still learning, I hope this post will be a resource that serves as a starting point on being careful with writing about historical trauma.

There is so much I want to say about writing about historical and intergenerational trauma, but I will try to keep this brief with the main points for writers to consider.

The topic of this post is about including trauma that PoC face. It is intergenerational trauma, which is also known as historical trauma. I will call these IT/HT for short.

IT/HT means trauma inflicted by generations of abuse. This can happen from cycles of abuse between generations, but it is often used to describe trauma caused by colonization. It refers not only to genocide but also to cultural erasure, such as banning religious practices, banning languages, and forcing the minority to assimilate. Racism also contributes to IT/HT by reinforcing the ideas that caused grave harm.

IT/HT is very real and still causes problems. In fact, it is the root of health disparities minorities like Indigenous people face. It influences social determinants of health, such as poverty, food insecurity, violence, addiction, inadequate health care, and the list goes on.

Although discussing IT/HT can be uncomfortable, it is important to consider when representing PoC characters. This isn't to say the discomfort is invalid. In fact, history should make people uncomfortable so there will be improvements. However, talking about IT/HT promotes change, which is what we need. Addressing IT/HT also gives PoC like Indigenous people time to grieve. Grief is part of the healing journey.

Having said that, including the impacts of IT/HT can be tricky. It is a subject that requires a lot of thought, research, and asking questions. Avoiding stereotypes, and crude terms (such as derogatory terms or descriptors) are important. The impacts of racism and IT/HT should be through the eyes of PoC, and also be specific to the race or ethnicity of the character. This is because every group may not experience the same impacts or severity.

Look up sources about IT, HT, or racism from the perspective of the ethnic or racial group you chose. In my experience, while there are so many resources in Indigenous health and how PoC faced impacts of racism, they are often done with Western academics or medicine. This isn't to say that's bad, but we cannot understand the entire picture, or even address the disparities and trauma unless we include Indigenous people or PoC in the research.

There are books, articles, videos, and interviews of people sharing their experiences like First Nations people retelling their experience in boarding schools. Of course, there are many, many other examples. The main idea is to consider PoC's view of these impacts. Their experiences should guide you in how your character faced the same challenges and not so much on how other characters may perceive them.

Another important thing is to never be afraid to ask questions. Most PoC wants to share their experiences, perspectives, and cultures with others who want to listen.

Additionally, when you write PoC characters, focus on the strengths of the people. While there are some cases when bringing up the disparities, representation needs to focus more on strengths. One example is Indigenous people. They have been researchers for centuries and their knowledge to explore the world. They developed innovations far before other people knew about them. This isn't just Native Americans either. This includes Indigenous groups all over the world.

To summarize, there is nothing wrong with including sensitive topics like IT/HT, but it must be done with great care. That means doing plenty of research, especially on materials that include PoC or minority communities as partners and leaders in research. Also, write PoC respectfully without stereotypes, never use crude terms, include experiences from PoC's perspectives, and include their strengths.

I hope the information here helps. My intention in this post is to help people be on the right path to learning about their character's backgrounds, the people who faced hardships from the same backgrounds, and present IT/HT with respect to PoC with their views, cultures, and strengths in mind.

[experimental-blueprints]

*drops this on you and runs away* - yami

//JAAGAGAKAJGSJS HUH WHAT HUH THIS IS AMAZING WHAT

[bubba-draws]

SIKE jk I will spread the grollow agenda with this one too

Can you draw the little knight the main dude knitting? Or crocheting? Just a little guy really

Just a little fella (ft. their sister)

[experimental-blueprints]

Where did the sunshine go?

Le monde n'est qu'une scène.

Il vaut mieux rire que pleurer,

car le rire est le propre de l'homme.

Riez de tout cela, ne vous inquiétez pas.

Profitons d'aujourd'hui.

The season of love draws ever so closer, and so, love blooms in the air with fresh sunflowers in the summer sun.

Rumor had it that a mysterious young, brown-haired girl has been sighted around the manor as of late... maybe you should come and say hi?

...

In honor of Valentine's Day, and Bianca's up-and-coming birthday, I decided to hold a little special event! For the rest of the month (February 10th to February 29th), I'll be temporarily bringing back the original, human Bianca (also known as Bia) and she'll be open for asks and interactions 👉🏼👈🏼

And all asks on February 14th will be answered by both Bianca and Bia exclusively. Bianca will not be present on any other day within this event, just in honor of her birthday.

And, Contract will be celebrating her first "birthday" (more like creation date) on February 29th!

Alright, that's all there is for me to say! Happy early birthday, my children /ih

[aethelwyneleigh27]

The Type of BF/GF Cod Characters Would Be (Scenario)

You know, like that one thing circling around TikTok

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

And yes I'm aware that some have repeated characters, some fit more than one

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I'm honestly on a roll and I've had my morning coffee so I'll start cracking, I have been trying to post more recently since it's October and I didn't really partake in the tober fests so I thought posting more might be good. Just me or are biker fucking hot? Yeah it's probs my thing for masked men.

Disclaimers/Warnings: OOC??

Doberman Boyfriend/Girlfriend whose first instinct was to protect you when you officially became theirs, initially they were always protective in subtle ways, subtle ways that also assert dominance over others. Little things like having a hand on your lower back or gently gripping your waist to move you. Their claimed spot is behind you, since they always find it to work when intimidating others and making sure no one even glances at you the wrong way. Might seem like they're intimidating but to you it's a different story, they're sweeter, more docile? Just far more affectionate and you basically have them wrapped around your finger. Switches in the bedroom but dom leaning, can be subs if you want them to be.

Characters: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves.

Golden Retriever Boyfriend/Girlfriend who are so loyal to the bone, they're fun and oftentimes a little himbo-ish? Quality is the best spent with you, kind of follows you around all the time. They're very clingy but do respect your personal space if you aren't in the mood, though that's what you love about them isn't it? That's they're insistent and wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Also love doing things for you (acts of service) and lives for it when you praise them. Switches in the bedroom, sub leaning.

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Tabby cat Boyfriend/Girlfriend whose chill around others but absolutely craves your affection behind closed doors. The kind of people sometimes randomly show affection in front of others even if they HATE pda. The kind of people who have been traumatized yet still affectionate as can be, everyone loves them for being down to earth but they do have bit of an odd side that only you see. Is a hardcore switch, no leaning.

Characters: Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Black cat Boyfriend/Girlfriend who randomly bring home things that made them think of you, they knew you'd like it but only let out a subtle smirk. Lives for you being their adorable little sunshine, mean and cold towards other but less with you. Tried to give you tough love but eventually gave in because you are you. You know how cats sometimes bring you dead animals as a proof of affection and acceptance, they've done that... only with a human head of course. Providing for you and making sure you're taken care of is their love language, very protective and can really hurt people if they wanted to, someone hurts or upsets you? Their head will be displayed on your front porch. Hardcore doms in the bedroom. (Yandere AU anyone??)

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves.

[experimental-blueprints]

// YOOOOOO LOOK AT THEMMMMMM AHHHHHHH

"You are beautiful as always, Bianca... Shall we dance tonight? ❤️"

// Your Honor,,, they’re dancing,,,, 🥺 *silly dances*/ih

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

Chapter Synopsis: Oliver Aiku isn’t sure which entity he’s wronged to earn this kind of treatment, but somehow, in the days before the match against Blue Lock, he’s stuck watching over the team’s newest addition: Sae Itoshi, a rude midfielder who’d rather be in Spain (or in hell) than hanging out with him. Things get a little more complicated, though, when a cup of shitty coffee leads to a crush and Aiku is forced to intervene.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sae x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 7.9k

Content Warnings: crack fic, sae my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader has to work in customer service 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, sae is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), sae slander (from aiku), reader is a fan girl but she keeps it 𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙, reader’s dad has cameos but he’s just chilling tbh

A/N: the people wanted sae’s version to be posted first so uhhh here we are!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long (as usual) but it’s very silly and goofy!! anyways so this is the first entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️

Oliver Aiku likes to think he’s a fairly nice guy. He visits his grandmother every weekend, he rescues kittens from gutters (okay, it only happened once, but he still did it, so it counts), and he’s good enough at being captain of the Japanese U-20s that none of his teammates really hate him, so all in all, he can’t be doing that bad of a job. Yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s a great person, a stand-up fellow, an upstanding member of society — so why the fuck is Sae Itoshi glaring at him like that?

“What?” he says, because it was fine for the first, say, twenty minutes or so, but now it’s gone from annoying to just plain concerning. “Something going on with you?”

Sae stares at him for a moment longer, and Aiku wonders if he’s trying to communicate via telepathy. That’s a skill he’s never picked up, though, so he can only wait for Sae to speak up, which, thankfully, he eventually does.

“This coffee is shit,” he says. The way he speaks is dull and blank, his lips pinched together and his brows low over his eyes. It’s kind of a shame, in Aiku’s highly professional opinion. He’d be handsome if he smiled more; or, if not handsome, at least approachable enough to not scare away every single girl that dared to even glance at him.

“It’s not my fault,” Aiku says. “Take it up with the barista or something.”

“You’re the one who brought me here, so it is your fault,” Sae says. Aiku crosses his arms, because isn’t Sae younger than him? This feels like a level of disrespect he shouldn’t tolerate, prodigy or not.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. In hindsight, it’s not the most mature response he could’ve come up with, and Sae seems to agree, snorting derisively before using a napkin to dab at a drip of coffee running down the side of his cup.

“What a captain,” he says with a sigh. “No wonder you guys need me to play for you against those Blue Lock idiots.”

Aiku should be offended, he really should be — and he is! He is, and he’s just about to muster up some scathing retort that’ll definitely leave Sae Itoshi trembling, but then Sae’s standing up with purpose, so now he’s just intrigued instead of insulted. He follows after him as Sae holds the coffee in one hand and marches towards the counter, and when he realizes what’s about to happen, he preemptively cringes.

“Don’t yell at service workers!” Aiku says. It would’ve been heroic if he had said it loud enough for Sae to hear him, but unfortunately, it’s more of a whisper than the brave shout he had intended for it to be, so he just looks kind of stupid, as if he regularly talks to himself or something.

“Hey,” Sae says to the boy at the counter. He’s young, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen, and Aiku prays that he’s not the target of Sae’s ire. “Who made this?”

The boy squints at Sae’s cup, reading the receipt, and then he smiles innocently. “That was Y/N. Did you want to talk to her?”

“Yes,” Sae says bluntly. Aiku is about to thank whichever deity was watching over him and that boy alike, but he pauses when the rest of the kid’s statement registers. Her? Her? Is Sae seriously about to yell at a girl for making bad coffee? If she’s hot, he’ll kill Sae, no doubt about it. “And tell her to make it quick. We don’t have all day, and she’s already wasted enough of our time.”

Yeah, he’s definitely going to kill him. 

“Y/N,” a voice whispers. You’re untying your apron — your shift is just about over, and you’re ready to clock out, but for some reason your young coworker is peering into the kitchen nervously and gesturing for you to come with him. Normally, you’d tell him to handle things himself, but he’s new, so you decide to be responsible for once and follow after him, muttering curses to yourself as you retie your apron.

“What’s the matter? Did you spill something?” you say. He shakes his head, raising his hand and pointing at the counter, where two customers are waiting. You frown, because you’re pretty sure you already gave them their drinks, so there’s no reason for them to be standing there, unless maybe they want to reorder. “Wait. Did you call me to take their order? No way! My shift is over in thirty seconds!”

“No, no, I didn’t,” your coworker says. “They want to talk to you.”

“Me? Like me, specifically?” you say. He nods.

“Yeah, they asked for you by name and everything,” he says earnestly. “I think they’re mad, though.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, because the last thing you want to do is deal with a couple of prissy customers, especially not when you’re supposed to be heading home already. However, your coworker seems to be on the verge of tears, and some kind of sisterly affection tugs at your heartstrings, so you pat him on the shoulder and take his spot at the counter.

“Hi, this is Y/N. My coworker told me you needed to see me. How can I help you?” you say. Your voice is chipper and your smile is false, but they don’t need to know that. You’ve been working at the coffee shop for long enough that you’re practiced at pretending, and you know for a fact that your coworker is standing shyly at your side, probably astonished by the quality of your performance.

For a moment, neither man speaks, so you get to stare at them and make your own assumptions about who they are and what their backstories might be. It’s kind of like a hobby, a pastime for when things are slow or you’re generally annoyed about your job. You’ve developed it over the years, and luckily, these two are prime candidates for the game.

The one on the left is tall and broad, with dark hair and mysterious eyes. Curiously, one is a bright green, while the other is a softer violet, and there’s a few-days-old stubble growing on his square face, like a shadow running along his jaw. It gives him a rough appearance, like he owns a motorcycle and frequently wears leather jackets, but you want to believe that he’s gentle at heart. Maybe he has a fondness for baby animals or he likes to bake cookies or something along those lines.

The one on the right is shorter than his counterpart, and his hair is red like a sunset, pushed carelessly out of his haughty face. He’s wearing a sweater that matches his eyes, though the teal of the knitted fabric is much more muted, and you’re about to come up with some kind of fantastical explanation for who he might be when you realize that you know him.

He clears his throat, and you scramble to stand up straighter, internally screaming, because what are the odds that you’ve somehow managed to piss off the star player of your favorite soccer club’s youth team? You wonder what your father will think of you now. You wonder what you think of yourself now. What should you do? Should you tell him you recognize him? Ask for an autograph? Or should you play it cool and pretend like you don’t know him? What if he yells at you?

Actually, you wouldn’t mind it as much as normally do. When everyday customers start screaming at you for some perceived wrong that you’ve supposedly committed, you typically tune them out, and then you make fun of them with your coworkers in the back, but if it’s Sae Itoshi…well. you’ll certainly listen to every word he says, and when you return to the kitchen, you’ll write them down somewhere so you can remember the moment forever.

“He didn’t like his drink,” he says, pointing at the dark haired man.

“What?” the man shrieks. The pitch is higher than you would’ve expected from someone of his size, but it appears he realizes that, too, because then he’s coughing. “I mean, what? What are you talking about?”

“You were just complaining, Aiku,” Sae says. “You even made me come up here and get mad at this girl for you.”

The other man, who you guess is named Aiku, is turning a strange shade between magenta and beet-red, and you’re surprised there isn’t steam coming out of his ears. Given that you don’t really care about him that much, you’re instantly irritated again, because why would it matter if he didn’t like his drink? Still, you have to keep up appearances.

“My apologies, sir. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” you say. 

“No!” Aiku says. “No, it’s — hey, Sae, you were the one who was all upset, so why are you putting it on me?”

“Hm?” Sae says, obviously uninterested in the conversation already. “I dunno. Maybe it happened like that, or maybe not.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, more than a little bewildered. “Ah, I’m new here, so I’m still learning.”

Aiku, who has returned to a more normal and human color, smiles at you kindly, and he’s about to respond, ostensibly to reassure you, but then your damned coworker pipes up: “No, she’s not.”

“Ah, sorry?” Aiku says.

“She’s not new,” your coworker says again.

“‘New’ is a subjective term,” you say mechanically, wishing that it was acceptable for you to turn around and hit him in public whenever you wanted.

“I don’t think anyone would consider you to be new when you’ve been working here for three years,” your coworker says. You can imagine the innocent, guileless expression on his face right now. You want to do something violent to it.

“Ha, ha,” you say. You think your eye might twitch, too, but if Aiku or Sae notice, then neither of them point it out. “What a knowledgeable fellow we have back here.”

“It’s alright,” Aiku says. “I didn’t mind the drink. Sae’s the one who threw a fit about it.”

“I liked it,” Sae says stubbornly. “It was fine.”

You step in before Aiku can turn magenta again, because that’s probably unhealthy for him, and you don’t want to be held liable for a customer dying on your watch when you’re not even being paid for it.

“Anyways, is that all? I’m actually done with my shift, so if you guys don’t need anything else…” you trail off, though inside you’re screaming something along the lines of Sae Itoshi, please notice me and give me your autograph and oh, if you could fall in love with me, too, that would be amazing!

Of course, you can’t verbalize anything like that, so you just smile and wave until the door slams shut behind them. Then you’re yanking your apron off and balling it up before chucking it at your coworker’s face. It hits him in the nose and slides to the ground; he gives you an offended look before picking it up.

“You’re lucky it was only an apron,” you say. “You owe me big time, you little shit.”

“Huh?” he says.

“I won’t forget this!” you warn him, stomping towards the small locker room, where your precious phone is waiting for you. “You’re a major-league jerk, okay? Don’t ever ask me to cover another shift for you again!”

“Huh?” 

“What the hell was that?” Aiku snaps as soon as they’ve left the cafe, because this is totally not what he was expecting when his coach told him that he had to treat Sae nicely and make him feel welcome. 

“What was what?” Sae says. He’s sipping on his coffee sedately now, even though he was complaining about it only minutes earlier.

“Since when was I the one who was upset about my coffee?” Aiku says.

“I have a bad memory,” Sae deadpans. “I guess it could’ve been either of us.”

“That was not believable in the slightest,” Aiku feels the need to inform him. Judging by Sae’s expression, it wasn’t meant to be believable, though, and Aiku sighs. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You were just going crazy and glaring at me because you thought the coffee sucked, and now you think it’s good?”

“I should’ve waited for it to cool,” Sae says. “It’s better now. I was being hasty.”

“Uh-huh,” Aiku says. “Sure. Let’s do something else tomorrow. I don’t ever want to go back there. I don’t think I can face that girl again. She was so hot, too, and now she probably thinks I’m some ungrateful asshole…”

“I want to go back,” Sae says immediately, throwing the now-empty cup into the nearest trash can. Aiku furrows his brow at him, trying to puzzle out this latest contradiction and finding himself utterly unable to. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Aiku repeats dubiously. Tomorrow he has practice, and technically so does Sae. However, they both know that Sae doesn’t need anything as ridiculous as practice in order to win against a team of eleven high-school forwards, and he’s fairly confident that his coach will tell him to accompany the bratty Itoshi instead of showing up, since the JFU is pulling out all of the stops if it means getting Sae to stay in Japan for good.

“Tomorrow,” Sae reaffirms.

I’m a nice guy, Aiku tries to remind himself. This is what nice guys do. I’m boosting team morale. Yeah. That’s all. Captain’s duties.

Still, as he chases after Sae, who apparently doesn’t know what the word ‘stroll’ means and prefers to do everything at a brisk pace more akin to a jog, he thinks that this entire ridiculous assignment feels more like a babysitter’s duties than anything. 

“Are you serious?” your father says. In the background, the TV is playing a game between Re Al and Barcha, which is rather fitting.

“Deadly,” you say, untying the laces of your sneakers and putting them with the rest of your shoes. “It was actually him.”

“Sae Itoshi,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s back from Spain?”

“Seems like it,” you say, though now that he mentions it, you’re as confused as he is. Why is Sae Itoshi here instead of Madrid? You glance at the TV — Barcha has just scored, and the cameras are sweeping through the crowds, showing the excited fans cheering — and wonder if maybe he was fired or something. You doubt that that’s what happened; after all, he’s a consistent player, and the last time he was in a match, he even managed to outmaneuver that freaky striker who plays for Bastard München, so it would make zero sense for Re Al to let him go. Besides, even if they did, you’re sure there’s dozens of clubs that would be willing to take him, so there must be another reason for his presence in Japan.

“Huh,” your father says. “Well. Good for him.” 

“I guess so,” you say. “If I ever see him again, I’ll ask him what he’s doing in town.”

Your father chuckles, taking a sip of his beer and giving you a thumbs up. “Yeah, you do that. Let me know what he says.”

You laugh, too, sitting down at the counter and eating a plate of reheated leftovers, because you know as well as your father that the idea of you ever seeing Sae Itoshi again is more than a little far-fetched. But it’s a nice thought, and anyways the chances are never zero, so for the moment, you allow yourself to imagine. 

Aiku is seriously questioning if Sae Itoshi was sent to this earth — or at least to this country — as some kind of punishment for him. He’s not really sure what’s done that would invite such cosmic retribution, but maybe it’s one of those…what did that girl call them? Karmic debts? She had said something about the sins of his past life and all, though he can’t recall the specifics.

Wait. That’s wrong. He just never learnt them in the first place, so how could he remember them in the first place? He had broken up with her before she could explain her theories to him. This prompts a wince from him, which is further fueled by the way his t-shirt sticks to his back with sweat. It’s a distinctively uncomfortable feeling, and he’s contemplating complaining, even though it probably won’t do much.

“Shut up,” Sae says.

“I didn’t say anything!” Aiku protests, more than a little spooked, since he actually had been about to say something before Sae had cut him off.

“I can see you making faces at me,” Sae says. Considering Sae is walking ahead of him and to the side, Aiku’s not quite sure how he could tell anything about what sorts of faces Aiku is making, but unfortunately, he’s uncannily correct as always, so Aiku schools his expression into a smooth, neutral one that won’t beget reprimand from his companion.

“I can’t believe you insisted on going here straight after practice,” he says.

“This is the same time we went yesterday,” Sae says. He’s kind of an insufferable smart-ass, Aiku thinks to himself, though he’d never say as much to Sae’s face. After all, unlike his counterpart, he’s considerate like that, and he always has been.

“So? We didn’t have practice yesterday,” Aiku says. “You couldn’t even let me shower?”

“You take forever in the showers,” Sae says. This is rich, for Sae is notoriously obsessive with his skincare, and of the entire team, he takes far and away the longest to get ready. But, then again, Aiku supposes that idiocy is one of those illnesses which spreads further and further until all of one’s perspectives are tainted with the virus.

“I could’ve been quick,” he says. “It would’ve been better if I could’ve at least rinsed off so I didn’t look so gross. I want to impress that Y/N girl if she’s there again today.”

“You’re not her type,” Sae says dismissively. “So why bother?”

“How do you know? Are the two of you childhood buddies or something?” Aiku says. Sae glances at him, and of course he’s way too holier-than-thou to properly sneer, but the corners of his lips turn downwards to the same effect.

“Not too hard to figure out,” he says. 

“Well, hold on just a moment! I got the vibe that she was totally into me yesterday!” Aiku says. He actually did not get any such vibes from the barista; the only thing she seemed into was clocking out, but he’s Oliver Aiku. If he can’t get a girl, he can’t do anything. Besides, it’s not like Sae would be able to tell one way or another — Aiku and his teammate Sendou have a theory that Sae was created in a lab as some kind of experiment to make the world’s best midfielder, because the guy really doesn’t have any knowledge or concern for anything that’s unrelated to soccer.

True to form, Sae blinks unsurely. “Really?”

“Yeah, one hundred percent,” Aiku boasts, although then he’s narrowing his eyes, because such a question is so out of Sae’s character that for a moment, he wonders if there’s been a mistake and he’s actually taken some other team member of his along for this ridiculous errand.

Messy red hair. Teal eyes. Forehead creased with a frown. No, it’s definitely Sae Itoshi, that’s for sure. Just Sae Itoshi in a mood that he’s never seen before. If they were a little closer, he’d ask him what’s the big deal now, but as it is, the question would probably go unappreciated.

“Hm,” Sae says. “Whatever. We’ll see.”

“Sure,” Aiku says slowly, reaching out to hold open the door of the cafe so he can enter behind Sae, since his lovely, amazing, wonderful, kindhearted teammate so generously left it to slam shut in his face. 

What a total dick. He makes a mental note to ask the JFU for a raise, because whatever they’re giving him at the moment is definitely not enough. 

“They’re back again!” your coworker says. You’re still mad at him for yesterday, so you’ve been giving him the silent treatment the entire shift. It hasn’t gone unnoticed, but his pitiful attempts at reconciliation never include an apology, so you haven’t budged yet.

He waits for you to respond, but you’re pretty sure he’s making stuff up to get you to pay attention to him, and anyways they could be in reference to anyone, so you continue to pour milk into a cup, acting like it’s an all-consuming task which you cannot possibly complete without the utmost of concentration.

“I’m being serious! Y/N, it’s Sae Itoshi and, uh, that other dude!” he says. Your hand wobbles for the briefest moment, but you conclude that he’s most likely lying, so you steady yourself and continue pouring the milk. “Fine, be that way! I’ll serve them myself!”

You can’t even say something snarky in response, because that’ll still be a win on his part, so you huff particularly loudly to no one in particular and leave it at that.

A few minutes later, he’s back, looking so contrite that if you weren’t upset with him, you’d actually be worried. Unfortunately, you very much are upset with him, so you find it on the whole to be rather hilarious and have to suppress a laugh. 

He must take your amusement as a signal to talk, because he speaks eagerly and quickly, stumbling over his words and clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Y/N, Y/N, they’re insisting on seeing you, I told them you’re working right now — I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to do that, right? But I did, and now they really want to see you!” he says.

You’re still not entirely convinced, but if this is an act, then it’s a dedicated one, and you don’t think that he possesses that much dedication in all of his body, so maybe he’s actually telling the truth.

“Fine,” you say. “But if you’re lying, I swear I’m telling our manager to fire you.”

“I’m not!” he squeaks, darting back to the counter, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits for you to catch up to him.

When you reach the front, you’re surprised to see that it is in fact Sae Itoshi and…whoever that other guy is. Aiku? Yes, that sounds right. It’s Sae and Aiku, and one looks supremely inconvenienced — this would be Sae, of course — while his friend is running a hand through his sweaty hair, flashing you a grin.

You smile back at him, because that’s what you’re trained to do, and you don’t want your coworker to tattle to your manager that you’re not abiding by the cafe’s standards of customer service. Then you stare at them until one of them starts speaking, because that’s what your entire job is, and no matter how badly you want to start gushing to Sae Itoshi about how big of a fan you are, you have to remain professional.

“Is there anything I can do for you two?” you finally say. This prompts Aiku to nod, nudging Sae in the side, which earns him a dark glare.

“I want the number two, and he’ll take the number five,” Aiku says when Sae does not speak up. You want to tell him that nobody orders like that, but you’re not supposed to and it’s really not that big of a deal either way, so you just ring up the order.

“Sounds good. Would you like to pay with cash or credit?” you say.

“Credit,” Sae says, pulling out a card that probably has a monthly spending limit higher than what you make in a year. “And we’re splitting the bill, just so you know.”

What you want to say is Wow, Sae, you’re somehow even cooler in real-life! Who’s your favorite soccer player? What’s your favorite food? Do you like Spain better, or here? What you actually say is: “No problem. I’ll have those right out for you.”

“Thanks,” Aiku says. He’s kind of charming, in a sense; you can think of several friends you have that would probably swoon at the way his smile stretches across his face, but you don’t really see the appeal. Or, maybe you would normally, but at the moment, he’s standing next to Sae Itoshi, so it’s a little hard to focus on him at all.

“Yeah,” Sae says. “Thank you. Y/N.”

He’s probably just reading off of your name tag in an effort to seem more friendly and relatable and humble and all. It’s a classic PR move that he was probably taught as soon as he joined Re Al. You know about it, though, so it shouldn’t work on you. It won’t work on you. He’s just doing what he’s trained to, the same as you are.

It works on you. You run to the back and hide your face in your hands and squeal, because Sae fucking Itoshi just said your name. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Aiku says.

“Are we just listing curse words now?” Sae says dryly. “Bitch, cunt, hell. There’s three more for you.”

“You like the barista!” Aiku accuses. If Sae was drinking something, he would’ve spit it out just then, but he’s not, so he just chokes on his saliva. 

“No way,” he says.

“Yes, you do! How else can you explain this?” Aiku says, pitching his voice up in an imitation of Sae’s. “Yeah. Thank you. Y/N. Since when do you say thank you to people?”

“Since always? I have manners,” Sae says.

“I’ve never heard you say it,” Aiku says.

“Maybe that’s more telling about you than me,” Sae suggests. Aiku scowls at him.

“You definitely like her,” he says. “No judgment here, man. She’s pretty.”

“Whatever,” Sae says. “Even if I did like her — mind you, I don’t — she’s clearly into you.”

“Me?” Aiku says. “I was just messing with you earlier, you know. Anyways, yeah, I think she’s hot, but, like, you’ve never liked a girl before, right? So I wouldn’t get in the way of that. This is a big step.”

“You’re not getting in the way of anything. Do what you want,” Sae says. 

Aiku’s already pulling out his phone and texting Sendou: big news. Lab experiment just evolved. Feels attraction and jealousy now.

“Uh-huh,” he responds absentmindedly. Sendou texts back with about fifty mind-blown emojis, and he snickers to himself, liking the message.

“Anyways, who told you I’ve never liked anyone before?” Sae says defensively. Aiku just about drops his phone, leaning forwards in interest. Could it be? Are he and Sae actually bonding? Is Sae about to tell him about his first love — who apparently is not this barista?

“I just guessed. Was I wrong?” Aiku says. He’s already trying to come up with who Sae might’ve liked — a childhood neighbor or friend? A women’s soccer player he admired? A girl he saw once in Spain but never again? Oh, that last one is particularly romantic…he’s just about accepted it as fact when Sae glares at him.

“No,” he says. Aiku’s dreams are shattered in an instant, but he can only shake his head while chuckling, both because Sae has inadvertently admitted that he actually does like that Y/N girl, and because he was an idiot for believing that ‘Sae Itoshi’ and ‘romantic’ could ever belong together in one sentence.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

“What do I do?” you say. You and your coworker are back on speaking terms, mostly because you have no one else to talk to and are so desperate that you’re willing to temporarily forgive him. 

“Make their drinks?” he says. You give him a dirty look as you begin mixing up their orders. 

“Not about that. I’m such a huge fan of Sae’s, and this is the second time I’m making a drink for him. It’s kind of like fate, don’t you think? Should I try to talk to him or something?” you say.

“Do you want to?” your coworker says. It’s a slower time of day, so he has nothing to do but sit and watch you — at least, nothing immediate. There’s certainly things he could be doing, but you’re not about to chide him when you’re the reason he’s slacking off.

“Obviously! But what am I supposed to even say? I’ll sound like a creep if I just start acting like a fan-girl!” you say.

“That’s true,” your coworker says. “You kind of sound like one even now…”

“Ugh, if you’re not going to be helpful, then go organize the storeroom or something!”

“What about her makes you like her?” Aiku presses.

“Are we still on this?” Sae says, as if they’ve been talking about it for hours. “I don’t like her.”

“It’s not like you talked to her for a while…was it really just her looks?” Aiku says. “Damn. Didn’t think you were the shallow type.”

“I am not the shallow type!” Sae says.

“That sounds like something that a shallow person would say,” Aiku teases.

“Shut up,” Sae says. Aiku doesn’t have enough fingers or toes to count how many times Sae’s said that particular phrase to him. Maybe if he counted all of the fingers and all of the toes of every single person in the world, he would get kind of close to what that number might be. “I’m not shallow, I don’t like her, and she’s obviously way more interested in talking to you than me, so get off my back.”

Aiku whistles. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m telling the JFU that you were the one who sent me back to Spain,” Sae informs him bluntly. Aiku isn’t sure if that’s a joke or a legitimate threat. It’s hard to tell with Sae sometimes.

“Are you serious?” Aiku says.

“Deadly,” Sae says.

Yep, Aiku decides. He’s serious. 

“If only that Aiku dude wasn’t there,” you lament, setting the first drink in the pick-up area and calling out Aiku’s name before returning to finish Sae’s drink. “It’d be way easier to talk to Sae without someone there to judge everything I’m saying.”

“Do you think he’d even care?” your coworker says. You shrug.

“No idea. It’s intimidating to talk to guys around their friends, though. You’re a guy yourself, so you wouldn’t get it,” you say.

“Are they even friends?” your coworker says. “Doesn’t seem like they get along that well.”

In unison, the two of you turn so you can look at the duo, who are sitting at a table right within your line of sight. As your coworker said, they don’t look like they’re friends in the slightest. Aiku is sipping on his drink with a smirk, and Sae looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, than be sitting there with his not-friend.

“The point still stands,” you say. 

“Guess so,” your coworker says. Just then, Sae Itoshi happens to glance over, making direct eye contact with you. Your eyebrows raise, and your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught. Aiku turns to follow Sae’s line of sight as you weigh your options. Should you pretend like you weren’t doing anything? Should you wave?

You decide to just smile again before returning to the drink you were supposed to be working on. Your coworker, who saw the entire exchange, cannot stop laughing.

“It’s over for you,” he says. “He definitely thinks you’re a creepy fan-girl now. You can kiss that autograph goodbye.”

“You’re lucky I’m too lazy to remake this drink,” you say. “Because otherwise, I’d spill it on you.”

“That’s against company policy,” he says.

“By accident, of course,” you say with a malicious grin.

“That’s against company policy, too!” 

“Look, she just smiled at you. I bet she was looking at you the entire time,” Sae says coolly. “You should ask for her number. You already said you think she’s beautiful.”

“I said she’s hot. I’m not all poetic and shit like that,” Aiku says. “And I wouldn’t do that. It’s against the bro code.”

“We’re not ‘bros’, so you can put that out of your head,” Sae says.

“What if I help you get her number?” Aiku says. Sae tries very hard to maintain his nonchalant look, but Aiku can tell that his curiosity has been piqued. “Will you consider me a bro then? At the minimum, will you tell the JFU that I’ve done a great job at showing you around and making you feel welcome?”

Please please please please please I really need a fucking raise Sae I’m broke please please please — 

“Sure,” Sae says.

“Sure?” Aiku says. “Yes! Okay, this will be easy.”

Sae scoffs. “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you think.”

“Believe me,” Aiku says. “You’re in the presence of a master.”

Sae doesn’t even dignify that with a response beyond the most disgusted look Aiku has ever seen on anyone, Sae or not. He’d say something, but he’s pretty sure he deserves it at least a little, and anyways a possible raise is way more important to him than being right, so he keeps his mouth shut, simply giving Sae a double-thumbs-up. He’s going to ace this new assignment, and then maybe he’ll actually be paid what he’s worth instead of pennies on the dime.

You’re about to call out Sae’s name when you realize that for some reason, both Aiku and Sae are standing there and waiting for you. You furrow your brow, because it’s both a menacing and a comical sight — the hulking Aiku, who looks like he’s about to go punch a criminal on television before flipping his hair and telling the ladies that there’s enough of him to go around, and the slender Sae Itoshi, who you can’t imagine doing anything but slamming a winning pass to one of his teammates, invariably leading to a soccer ball in his opponent’s net.

“Uh, hello,” you say.

“Hello,” Aiku says.

“Hi,” Sae says.

“I have your drink,” you say to Sae.

“I know,” he says, taking it from your hand. Of course — why else would they be here? They must’ve seen you finishing up the drink and rightly assumed that it was theirs.

“Right,” you say. Neither of them go to leave, and now you wonder if they just don’t understand social cues or something like that. “Did you guys want to order something else? My coworker would be happy to take you at the counter.”

“No,” Sae says.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Well, I hope you enjoy your drinks.”

“We will,” Sae says with the utmost of confidence. Aiku groans and then thumps him on the back. You have a feeling you probably don’t want to know what the significance of the gesture is, but then you realize that this is probably the only chance you’ll get to have a proper conversation with Sae Itoshi, so you shove your concerns aside.

“Wait! If it doesn’t bother you too much, can I ask you a question?” you say. It’s an incredibly awkward way of going about it, but given how awkward this entire interaction has been, you don’t think it’s a huge deal. 

“Go ahead,” Aiku says. You weren’t asking him, but you guess the permission covers them both, so you square your shoulders and face Sae Itoshi, who seems entirely confused that you’re looking at him instead of Aiku. You’re not sure why he would be, since between the two of them he’s the celebrity, but maybe there’s some weird dynamic going on that you’re unaware of.

It doesn’t matter to you, though. You only have one thing to ask. You’ll never cross paths with Sae again, will you? So it’s fine. You can act a little embarrassing, and anyways, you barely make above minimum wage, so if your manager gets too upset and fires you for ‘unprofessional conduct’ or something, it won’t be a huge loss. It’ll be worth it, even, considering this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and your coworker is busy reorganizing the storeroom like you told him to, so he’s not around to spy on you and report back to your stodgy old manager.

Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth and begin to speak. 

Aiku hadn’t dared to even dream of the possibility that the barista might already like Sae, too. Why would she? Sae had just been all weird and rude to her in the couple of times that they had spoken, so all in all she’d have to be somewhat of a masochist, or a Re Al fan (which was essentially the same thing, given the losing streak that Re Al had been on for the last month or so), to be into him. But sometimes miracles did happen and baristas were masochists, because the girl was turning to Sae with shimmering eyes and a hopeful expression and it was all going to go so well—

“What are you even doing in Japan in the first place?”

Did he hear her right? Sae is bewildered as well, but Y/N isn’t acting like she’s just asked the most ridiculous question she could’ve possibly asked. What is Sae doing in Japan? Well, he happens to be a citizen of the nation, so there’s one explanation…Aiku wants to facepalm, because now his plans have been ruined and Sae’s confidence has probably been crushed.

“Pardon?” Sae says. Aiku had told him not to act so cranky and old-man-ish when he approaches the girl, but honestly, at this point, there’s no helping him, so he doesn’t even bother with a correction.

“Why are you in Japan?” she says again, all bright and innocent and cheery. It somehow feels like she’s been faking things so far, and that this is the real her, which she’s been holding back up until this point. Aiku isn’t so sure if that’s a good thing; privately, he believes it would’ve been better if she kept holding back just a little bit longer. Long enough for her to reject Sae — who still claims he’s not into her and is just trying to ‘be friendly’, as if friendliness is something he’s well known for — and then move on with her day.

“My passport expired?” Sae says, phrasing it more like a question. “So I had to come back and get it renewed?”

His voice ticks up at the end of every sentence unsurely. It’s almost cute, like he’s a little baby chick. Aiku’s fond of chicks, so he decides he’ll step in. Just this once.

“He’s visiting from Spain to play for the Japanese U-20 team in an upcoming exhibition match,” he explains.

“Oh, wow,” she says. “But I thought you said you would rather give up on soccer or play with German college kids than ever play soccer for Japan?”

Aiku raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t aware of such sentiments, and though he’s not exactly shocked, he can’t help feeling a bit miffed. When he glances over at Sae, there’s not a trace of remorse on his face, and so he wrinkles his nose.

Forget the raise and the baby-chick-esque mannerisms alike. He’s done helping this ungrateful, no-good, lame-as-hell, girl-repelling loser for free. If Sae wants any further assistance, he’ll have to beg for it. 

“How did you know I said that?” Sae says. You clap your hand over your mouth when you realize you’ve exposed yourself.

“I, um, I was just guessing!” you say.

“Guessing?” he repeats. You swear, because that’s actually a worse explanation than the original one, and then you hang your head, because if the cat’s out of the bag, then there’s no way you can put it back in.

“It’s a quote from one of your interviews,” you mumble.

“What?” It’s Aiku, who immediately frowns when he realizes he’s butted in. Sae gives him an odd look out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m a big fan of yours,” you say. “The last game you played in, when you stole the ball from that Bastard München striker, was amazing! To tell you the truth, I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re in the area instead of back in Madrid. It’s a little unbelievable, you see.”

“Ah,” Sae says, and for some reason he looks uncomfortable. “Well. Yeah. It was just the issues with my passport and all. I decided to play for the U-20s because I was offered a good deal, but it’s right back to Madrid for me after that.”

“That makes sense,” you say. It’s awkward again, but in a different way. You don’t know what to say. You don’t think he does either. His drink is probably cold now, and you’re surprised that Aiku’s eyes aren’t stuck in the back of his head, given how frequently he’s been rolling them. “Can I have your autograph?”

“No,” Sae says immediately. You’re a little taken aback, and to be honest, he looks kind of horrified himself, but you know better than to nag, so you only nod at him.

“No worries—” you begin before you’re cut off by a grumbling Aiku.

“He’ll give you his number instead. Here,” Aiku says, listing off a series of digits too rapidly for you to remember. “He’ll write it down, for you, right, Sae?”

And then, to your utter disbelief, Sae Itoshi is pulling out a pen and a piece of paper from who knows where, and he’s humming in agreement.

“Right,” he says, and then he’s handing you a note with his phone number written on it in neat print and his signature in flowing cursive. “You can call me later. If you want. Y/N.”

The way he speaks is stilted and low, but you don’t mind it. Tucking the piece of paper into your apron pocket, you beam at him.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll call you. I still have more things to ask you, so it’s good that you gave me this.”

“Yes,” Sae says. “Yes, you can do that if you’d like.”

Then he and Aiku are leaving the coffee shop, their drinks in hand, and you’re standing there in awe, wondering if that actually just happened or if it was nothing but a particularly vivid flight of fancy. 

If it’s the latter, then you almost hope it’s one you don’t ever escape from. 

“You’re welcome,” Aiku says as they leave the cafe. 

“I didn’t say thank you, you lukewarm oaf,” Sae says. Aiku shrugs. He’s hard to ruffle, after all. It’s the reason why he stepped in and rescued Sae from that little mistake of his. He just couldn’t bear the thought of his dear junior losing the girl of his dreams because of a slip of his tongue, even if aforementioned junior is the insufferable smart-ass type.

Well, the thought of the money he’ll make if Sae speaks of him highly to the JFU doesn’t hurt, either, but that’s less altruistic, so he prefers to stick to the first explanation.

“I bet you feel it, though,” Aiku says.

“Shut up,” Sae says. 

It’s a good thing babies are born every minute. Otherwise, given how frequently Sae says that particular phrase, Aiku really might run out of things to count on. 

You’ve typed the number on the piece of paper into your phone, and now you’re staring at it blankly, wondering if you should press the green call button. What if it was a prank? What if it wasn’t? Because then you’ll have to actually talk to Sae Itoshi, and you’re not so sure you can do that.

In a fit of inspiration, you slam your index finger against your screen and hold your phone up to your ear. It rings a couple of times, each subsequent one worsening the pit in your stomach, but then it stops ringing entirely, which can only mean one thing: Sae, if this really is his number, has answered.

“Hello?” you say.

“Hello?” he responds. “Y/N?”

“Yes!” you say. “It’s me. Y/N. Like you said.”

“Cool,” he says. “It’s Sae. Which I guess you knew, since you called me.”

“The confirmation was nice,” you say, internally sighing in relief. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. It’s mannerly but also a little sarcastic, albeit not in a mean way. You don’t mind it much. “You said you had to ask me some things?”

The two of you spend the next few minutes in a setting kind of like an interview, in that you drill him with questions and he answers them all patiently. He’s kind about it, humoring you even though he doesn’t have to, and he never threatens to hang up, which you do appreciate.

“Would you mind if I ask a question, too?” he says when you’ve taken a break to drink some water.

“Go ahead! Although I’m not as interesting as you are,” you say.

“I think you’re probably way more interesting,” he admits. “Anyways. Are you free next weekend?”

“Uh, I think I have a shift on Saturday, but to be honest, my coworker owes me, so he can cover it. Why?” you say.

“The exhibition game that I’m playing with the U-20s for. You should come watch,” he says.

“Oh! Sure, where should I get tickets? I’d have gotten them already if I knew you were playing,” you say.

“I’m allowed to invite someone,” he says. “Friends or family. So I’m inviting you.”

“Don’t you have actual friends that you can invite?” you say before gasping. “Sorry! Sorry, that was super insensitive and rude of me. Of course I’m honored to come, I’m just confused about why I’m the one you’re inviting. Me. I’ve literally made coffee for you twice, and that’s about it.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he says before pausing. “Um, look, Aiku told me to say this, so if it’s uncomfortable, then blame him…but I think you’re, er, beautiful?”

Your mind short-circuits. “Huh?”

“I don’t know! He’s the one who has experience, I’m just taking his advice!” Sae says, his tone souring immediately afterwards. “Trust me, it’s not like I want to. There’s many things I’d rather do than follow Oliver Aiku’s advice, but at the moment, it’s the best I can do.”

“Beautiful,” you repeat. It’s such an elegant adjective. You’ve been called pretty before, and there’s been a fair share of guys who have considered you to be hot, but beautiful…it’s nice. It’s really nice.

“Yeah,” Sae finally says. “Basically.”

“I’ll be there,” you say. There’s something like a scream bubbling in your throat, but you fight it back, knowing that it’s of the utmost importance that you maintain a relaxed demeanor.

“Great,” Sae says. “See you.”

“See you,” you say, and then you hang up before he can say anything further, because you’re already on the verge of combustion and you don’t think you can handle anything more.

Throwing your phone across the room, you give in and scream. There’s thundering footsteps, and then your father is throwing the door to your bedroom open, whipping his head around wildly.

“Is everything alright? Why are you screaming?” he says, heaving for breath, probably because he just sprinted from his spot on the couch to your bedroom in record time.

“Sae Itoshi!” you say.

“Yes?” he says, the rate of his inhales and exhales lowering as he realizes there’s no active threat to your life or property. “What about him?”

“He told me I’m beautiful and invited me to watch his game next weekend,” you say, knowing that this is going to make your father — a fellow Re Al fan — freak out.

You wait, counting down as he processes the news, unable to contain your exuberant grin, knowing exactly what’s coming. Three, two, one—

“What?”

[st4rryrain]

Infamous

(Logan Howlett x Reader)

Tags: smut, fluff, fem!reader, age gap, probably ooc, worst!logan, post-deadpool x wolverine, aftercare, return of egg the cat, no proof reading ‘cause I’m lazy

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: At your apartment, you decide to watch a movie with Logan. However, Logan thinks you’re more fascinating to look at than some movie. So, he wants to show you how much he thinks so.

A/N: Part 2 of Strawberry Lip Gloss! Also, um, so sorry for the long wait. I may or may not have gotten bad writers block.

Logan sat on your couch, taking in the new environment. Your apartment was small and had one bedroom. It was cozy, warm, and pretty; a nice way to end your first date. The white, round feline, Egg, went to Logan—sitting on the armrest beside him. Egg stared at him and flicked her tail. Logan couldn’t tell if he should think it’s cute or if he should be worried for his dear life.

“She’s just getting to know you.” You said from the kitchen.

Logan stared at the cat. The cat turned her head and side eyed Logan. “I feel like my soul is being judged…”

You were heard laughing as you entered the dark living room with the tv on—bowl of popcorn in hand.

“That’s definitely what’s going on.” You sat by Logan and Egg immediately walked over Logan’s lap to sit beside you.

“Oh so now she’s ignoring me?” Logan humorously scoffed with an eyebrow raised.

You grabbed the tv remote and turned to Egg. “I can’t keep defending you, girl.”

Logan put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in. “What movie do you wanna watch, sweetheart?”

You hummed as you browsed the streaming service, the gears turning in your head. What would be something Logan would also enjoy? You didn’t want him to bore him to death.

“Um… What about…” You scrolled through the catalog of movies and shows, nothing catching your eye.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to stress about this. Just choose whatever movie you want, baby.” Logan reassured you.

“Well, yeah, but… I want you to actually enjoy it too. Not just watch it because I picked it.”

Logan slightly grinned at your eagerness to please him.

“Do you like… cheesy romance?” You asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “How cheesy we talking?”

You looked at him, “Like… Disney cheesy.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“Sure, I’m up for it.”

You smiled and turned back to the tv, “Have you seen…” The cursor stopped on one poster. “Enchanted?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“You’re gonna hate it… probably…”

The movie was cheesy and sweet. It perfectly captured the late 2000’s and its campiness.

“She’s acting like it’s her first time seeing a man’s chest.” Logan said as he put some popcorn into his mouth.

“Give her a break. I’m sure living in a world that’s rated PG sucked. She didn’t even know the word ‘angry’.”

“Yeah, but she’s acting like a Victorian man seeing an ankle.”

You laughed, “You probably would act the same way.”

The tv illuminated your face and created a sparkle in your eye. Despite only seeing half of your face, Logan couldn’t help but admire your features. The way you looked at the tv, the way your eyes watched with fascination, and the way your lips moved as you munched on the popcorn. To think that he had tried brushing you off when you first met him was unfathomable. The fact that he almost never got the chance to experience sitting on your couch, watching a movie, and having his arm around you was almost sickening to him.

Egg hopped off the couch, taking Logan out of his trance.

“Baby?” He muttered.

You looked at him, “Yeah?”

“Nothing… I just wanted to see that pretty face.”

Logan catches the slight blush on your cheeks. The world around you seemed to disappear. He moved the bowl from your lap to your coffee table. One of his rough fingers brushed against your cheek.

“You’re such a sweet, pretty girl…” His hand cupped your cheek.

A warmth between your legs blossomed as he leaned in.

He smirked as your noses were only a few centimeters away. “So pretty… and all for me…” His voice was almost like a sweet coo.

You squeezed your thighs together.

“Ain’t that right, baby?”

Your breath hitched. “I… Yeah…”

Logan’s smirk widened. “My sweet angel...” His voice was dripping with lust and you quickly picked up on it.

He leaned in and captured your lips. His lips moved eagerly against yours, the kiss getting sloppier with every passing second.

“You wanna show me your bedroom, sweetheart?” Logan mumbled into the kiss.

You hummed a yes and got up, eagerly leading him into your moonlit room. Logan kicked the door closed as his large hands moved from your waist to grope your ass. Your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him in closer.

You both stripped each other down to your underwear. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you off the floor. His mutant strength surprised you, causing a small yelp. He walked towards the bed to set you down. He sat you down on the edge of the bed.

“You’re so good to me, baby.” Logan whispered as he gently pushed you to lay down. He ravaged your body with kisses. One of his hands lifted you up while the other reached to unclip your bra. He practically tore it away as he peppered kisses down to your chest.

“Fuck… You’re perfect…” He muttered, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

You gasped out, “Logan…”

His mouth moved on one breast as his hand fondled the other. “Such a beautiful girl… You make such pretty sound, angel.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he put one of his knees between your legs and pushed it against your clothed cunt.

“Oh fuck…”

Logan smiled against your breast when he heard the vulgarity leave your lips. “That feel good, baby?”

“Mhm.” You could barely get out a sound as his knee began to move against your cunt.

“Oh, such a good girl. You’re making such beautiful sounds for me, sweetheart.” He cooed.

You whined as you felt his knee depart from your cunt. Logan got off you and gazed down for a moment. His eyes were clouded with hunger; a hunger only you could satisfy.

Logan got down on his knees and brought his head between your thighs. His kisses transitioned into soft bites the closer he got to your heat. His fingers hooked onto your panties.

“Can I take these off, my sweet angel?” He softly asked.

Logan saw you nod and pulled them off you. He felt a shockwave shoot through him at the view.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He said before he dove in.

You had always heard people talk about your world’s Wolverine being an animal in bed. It was likely a result from his many rendezvous as word spread in trickles. Now there you were in bed with him while he ate you out like his life depended on it. The most infamous rumor everyone heard had always been how he ate pussy like a monster. To your pleasant surprise, it applied to all Wolverine variants.

“O-Oh my god…!” You gasped out while you gripped his hair and the sheets.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have believed he was taking more pleasure from eating you out than you were.

Logan looked up at you while he snaked his hands from your thighs to find your hands. His large hands laced fingers with yours and he groaned when you squeezed.

You lifted your head a little bit to look down at him and the look in his eyes was almost enough to make you cum. His eyes were dark and were a window into the feral animal inside. The coil in your stomach began to tighten.

“L-Logan! Fuck! I’m close!” You whined, slightly, bucking your hips.

You could feel the smirk on his face against your dripping cunt. Your back arched as you threw your head back.

“Logan! O-Oh f-fuck! Fuck!” Your whines turned into cries of ecstasy as blissful nirvana washed over you.

Logan lapped for a bit longer, helping you ride out your high. Eventually, he departed from your poor pussy to get up on his two feet and lowered his briefs.

Your eyes slightly widened. “Oh fuck… You sure you’re gonna fit?”

Logan softly laughed as he climbed over you, caging you in his arms.

“It will, babe. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, ‘kay?” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Let me take care of you…”

His tone was both sweet and sultry. It was more than enough to make your knees weak and cunt throb.

“Gonna take it slow.” He positioned himself at your slick folds. “Ready, angel?”

Your hands found their way to his biceps, gently holding them as you braced for contact. The eye contact with him as you nodded was intimate in its own way, almost as if you were telling him how you trusted him. Logan moved onto his forearms for support as he slowly started pushing into you. You whined slightly as you hooked your arms under his.

“I know, baby, I know… Just relax.” Logan kissed your temple.

You held onto him for dear life as he bottomed out. His small grunt as he filled you up entirely. Fuck, he was huge. Unreasonably huge. But he filled you up just right. He placed kisses on your head as he tested the waters and rocked his hips gently.

“Holy shit, you’re fucking tight.” He groaned out.

You whined, “You’re just fucking big.”

Logan chuckled softly. “That too.” He grunted as he twitched inside you, “Baby, can I go faster?”

You nodded, completely lost in the bliss of intimacy. Logan started to pick up the pace, making the bed creak slightly.

“O-Oh fuck… You’re so fucking hot.” Logan groaned out in response to your whimpers.

You clung onto him and gasped at each thrust.

Logan let out a small breathy laugh, “Enjoying yourself, babydoll?”

Your lips were pursed and eyes squeezed tight as you concentrated on the toe curling feeling. “Mhm.”

He shifted and stood up on his knees. He flipped you over, making you whined, “Why’d you do that? I was close to being close…”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh. “‘Close to being close’? Baby, trust me, this will get you there faster, okay?”

“Mhm.”

Logan helped put you on all fours to hold your hips.

“God had favorites when making you…” He hummed in appreciation.

Before you could react, Logan slipped into you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned from the unexpected movement.

Logan leaned over, his chest against your back as he thrusted deeply.

“Who does this cunt belong to, sweetheart?” He whispered into your ear.

You were too busy drooling over the mind numbing fucking he was giving you to even respond. He grabbed your face with one of his calloused hands, tilting your head back to look up at him as he pounded into you.

“Answer my question. Who does this pretty pussy belong to?” His words were sharp and harsh.

You whined and struggled to focus your gaze up at him. “Y-You, Lo-Logan! Fuck!”

“Mhm?” He cooed, “You feel how deep I’m fucking you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a soft cry. Logan’s harsh grip on your jaw shook your head a little.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

You opened your eyes and locked eyes with him. He gave you a wolfish grin.

“Such. A. Good. Fucking. Girl.” He snapped his hips at each word, making you grip the sheets tightly.

“G-Gonna cum!” You cried out.

“Mhm? My angel’s gonna cum?” His cock twitched inside of you. “C’mon, princess. Give it to me.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and he shook your head again.

“Keep your eyes on me. I want you to look at me while you cum.”

Your gaze immediately returned to Logan like a dog obeying a command.

“Atta girl.” His thrusts were brutal and unforgiving. Both of you were sure you’d lose your ability to walk for who knows how long.

“C’mon, baby. Give it to me. Wanna feel that pretty cunt cum.” His voice was almost like an animalistic growl. “Gonna fill up this tight pussy. Gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

Your voice got caught in your throat as you reached your orgasm. It was only after you reached bliss that your cry escaped your mouth. Logan’s cock throbbed inside of you as he shoot his warm ribbons inside of you. His hips gave a last harsh snap as he buried himself deep into you.

“Yeah, just like that.” He grunted. “Such a good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Your body went limp from exhaustion and Logan helped by gently setting your upper body down, still buried deep in you. He leaned down to get close to your ear again. He brought a hand to brush hair out of your face.

“You okay, baby?” He softly asked.

You were a sweaty panting mess but was able to mutter out, “Mhm.”

Logan kissed your temple and caressed your arms. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel.”

The world felt confined to your bedroom, as if nothing else mattered. Your soft pants filled the room as he slipped out of you. He wrapped his arms around you and gently pulled you down to lay with him in his embrace. He kissed the back of your hair and rested his chin on your head. His large, calloused hand rubbed your thigh lovingly.

“I love you.” He muttered, breaking the comfortable silence.

You smiled like an idiot. “I love you too.”

[xnova239x]

I feel like I’ve been writing essays in my latest posts, haha.

Here are my thoughts and ramblings on Solas and Solavellan:

I’m in bits… I cannot watch that scene again without breaking out into gut-wrenching sobs.

I found that to be a perfect reunion.

I was not expecting a horny, ass-grabbing, “Fade tongue” passionate make out sesh. Nor did I want one, honestly, after seeing what Solas was going through all game.

After what Lavellan was dealing with all game.

The South was being utterly ravaged by Blight. Orlais, Fereldan, the Free Marches… all of it wrecked… possibly even fallen entirely. Lavellan, despite being the leader of a disbanded Inquisition in my game, was trying her hardest to bolster defenses, protect the innocent and fight the war down there. While also wrestling with her, obviously still raw, heartbreak and love for the Dread Wolf.

In Veilguard, Solas is absolutely not the one we knew in Inquisition. Here, he has fully accepted the role of villain and mantle of the Dread Wolf. He is not the thoughtful, wise apostate who sometimes sets his coat tails alight, plays mental 4D chess with Iron Bull, trolls the hell out of Sera, debates philosophy with Cassandra and is the passionate, suave, smooth flirt with Lavellan.

No.

Here, he is Wisdom… corrupted.

He is Pride.

He is a Pride demon, for the majority of the game. Using clever half-truths, trickery, lies and omissions to get what he wants.

(You can really see this in the “Fight him” ending where I’ve heard some are saying he’s OOC. He calls himself a God, when that is something he has been adamant he is not up until this point. But, in this ending… he is demonic in nature. Pride has completely overtaken him. You haven’t made an attempt to help/understand him. Therefore, you are standing in his way. He has no respect for you now. He has that “You can’t beat me!” attitude. He’s furious when he is, in fact, outsmarted and beaten. His eyes glow… screams that you are short-lived, implies he is better than you and that he is a God, compared to you. Not at all out of character for a demonic creature.)

(To be honest, I was kind of reminded of the Mage Origin/Harrowing from DAO when we interacted with him and when our companions etc ask “But can we trust him?”. Rook can be like “Obviously not” or “Yeah… for this thing… but he will stab us in the back”)

He tells Rook just enough to spark their interest, to keep them working with him…

As only he can fix the world. Only he can defeat Elgar’nan.

Yet, he is completely and utterly strangled by his Regrets and Guilt. Guilt for ruining the Elvhen world by, actually, trying to save it… guilt for being unable to convince Mythal to stay with him, ultimately leading to her murder…

Mythal, essentially, created him. I kinda view their whole dynamic as something akin to Witch and Familiar.

She had taken a body first. Solas began existence as Wisdom. He was her companion spirit. I always wondered why he is almost always depicted in his Dread Wolf form in Elvhen statues and mosaics… not his Elvhen one. Familiars usually take an animal form, guide and protect their bonded witch/mage, pass on advice and wisdom and help with their magic. I get the impression this was the beginning of their relationship: he was her guide… her protector. His statues were always surrounding hers in a guardian-like position. I don’t necessarily see Solas and Mythal as romantic, per se. The Elvhen began as spirits. Beings of pure and raw emotion. Maybe Solas did have some sort of infatuation with her… but I think it more of a twisted reverence. He worshipped her, in his own way. He had such a deep bond with her… beyond mere love and friendship. He was in her service.

A willing slave is no less a slave.

This bond is all that’s left to drive this twisted sense of duty he has all game.

He could have argued that this world was a dream - it wasn’t real. But… he’s lived in this world for years… and grew to, at the very least, enjoy it in some ways. He developed friendships… and, depending on your world state, fell in love with a mortal woman. He didn’t mean to, but he did. He doesn’t want to destroy it. It means something to him.

But this duty to “restore the ancient world”… it’s too deeply embedded within him. He’s a former spirit. He needs to follow his purpose.

Which had been warped from his original one so badly by Mythal. She even says this.

I pulled you from the Fade you loved and sent you into war. I used your Wisdom as a weapon… and it broke you…

He is broken. He is not himself… not really. Every choice he has made to this point is in service to this duty.

It takes Past, Present and Future to break this notion in him.

Past: Mythal. She needs to release him from this slave-like behaviour; this extremely powerful sense of duty to her. He needs to hear from her that everything was not all his fault. They fucked things up together. He shouldn’t bear all of that on his own.

Present: Rook. The one person all game that can constantly call him out on his bullshit. The person that reminds him of his younger self (I suppose I was not so different…)… if that younger self was able to accept and reflect on his mistakes and accept the consequences of his actions. For all Solas’ talk… he cannot accept the consequences of what he has done. His whole purpose is to change it. Undo it. Not live with it.

Future: Lavellan. His love. His heart. Vhenan. She represents what he truly wants. He wanted to live his life with her. To forget everything and be with her as Solas. Her forgiveness and reassurance that her love for him is still strong… helps him stand tall and accept what he must do now. She wants him and will follow him. She will no longer let him chase her away. She wants to support him… love him as the person he is… not make him into something he’s not. He no longer has to be alone. They will face whatever terrible things lie beyond the Veil together.

It’s something Emmrich says in a quest of his that puts a fair bit of meaning into why Solas finds himself so attached to Lavellan.

Spirits are not things to be disposed of. They’re so susceptible to the world’s whims, Rook. Some spirits are dangerous. But, how quickly most respond to a bit of kindness, or care… or simple attempt to understand…

Tell me that is not how Solas responds to your Inquisitor throughout Inquisition if you actually listen to him, ask him questions and make an attempt to understand his point of view. Lavellan does exactly this. She allows him to be more himself. Impart Wisdom… become Wisdom, not Pride.

She does not warp him. She stabilises him.

He no longer has to fear dying alone. For he will no longer be alone. He has his Vhenan. His home. His future. Wherever it takes them.

[the-real-dickmaster]

“HEY, YOU!”

“YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT, I’M TALKING TO YOU, BITCH!”

“THE FIRST MAN NEEDS YOU TO HELP SOMEONE!”

“THIS PERSON NEEDS HELP AS SOON AS FUCKING POSSIBLE!!”

“THEY NEED DONATIONS TO PAY FOR THEIR MEDICAL ALERT SERVICE DOG’S TRAINING!!”

“Here is their GoFundMe page below.”

https://gofund.me/ec8376ce

“And if you yourself can’t donate, don’t have a bank account, or don’t have the money. The least you can do is to reblog this post.”

“If you can’t do it, reblogging means that more people will be able to see this post. And there’s a chance that THEY will be able to help.”

“Seriously, they’ve only reached 7 PERCENT OF THEIR GOAL. Every reblog count.”

“Tags also help too.”

((OOC: Here is a more detailed description from their GoFundMe about their situation.))

“Hello, my name is Cameron. In a world filled with uncertainty, my life has been a constant battle against panic disorder. Every day, I face the overwhelming fear of sudden panic attacks that can strike at any moment. But amidst the darkness, there is a glimmer of hope - a new service dog that could change My life forever. This is a journey towards finding safety and independence, and how your support can make all the difference.

Imagine living in a constant state of fear, where even the simplest tasks become daunting challenges. For Me panic disorder has turned my life into a never-ending rollercoaster of anxiety. The fear of experiencing a panic attack has confined me to the walls of his own home, leaving me isolated and dependent on others for even the most basic needs.

But there is a ray of hope for me that could break through the darkness. A service dog trained in medical alert can provide me with the support I desperately needs. These incredible Canines can be trained to detect the early signs of a panic attack, allowing me to take necessary precautions and find a safe space before it escalates. With a service dog by my side, I can regain my independence and face the world with newfound confidence!!!!!

...Unfortunately, the cost of obtaining a trained service dog is beyond my reach. The extensive training, veterinary care, and ongoing support required for these remarkable dogs come at a significant expense. As I rely on the generosity of donors, I humbly reach out to you, hoping that you can help me on my journey, OUR journey towards a brighter future.

Your donation can make a world of difference in My life. By contributing to my GoFundMe campaign, you are not only helping me obtain a service dog but also giving me the chance to break free from the chains of panic disorder and hallucinations... Your support will provide me with a loyal, obedient companion who will be by my side, offering comfort, safety, and protection during my most vulnerable moments, keeping me out of danger and harm.

My story is one of resilience, determination, and the power of human kindness. With your support, I can overcome the limitations imposed by panic disorder, hallucinations and embrace a life filled with hope, independence, and freedom.

Please! together, let's make My dream of a new service dog, a new comfort, a new safety, a new life, a new chance, a reality. Donate today and be a part of my journey towards a brighter, safer future!!”

[jifloulette]

kyotani kentaro pre bf and bf hcs because im in my kyotani brainrot era once again.. (slight ooc?)

note ; pls i love mad-dog kun so bad it's not funny anymore, i may have gone overboard because of how many i made.. this has been rotting in my notes app so this was DUE 💜

pre bf kyotani who you tried so hard to become friends with because you thought you could make him smile and laugh for the first time in his life, you thought you could change him from being a mad-dog to a cheery, joyful one !

pre bf kyotani who you ask to teach you how to play volleyball — starting with the simple terms like how to serve overhand, what a service ace is, how to block a spike, etcera etcera !

pre bf kyotani who blurts out that he's starting to really enjoy your presence around him. when you ask him why, he'll say it's because you were the first person to treat him nicely, to greet him with a smile and continue to interact with him despite his scary aura !

pre bf kyotani who realizes that you mean so much more to him, that you were becoming something that he regularly enjoys hanging around with !

pre bf kyotani who tries so hard to be romantic when he confesses, leaving a note in your locker asking you to meet him by the volleyball court and when you see him, his gaze goes from your figure to the ground while his face reddens !

pre bf kyotani who then says what he's been meaning to say the second he finds out he likes- no, he loves you. from complimenting your beautiful eyes to telling you how much he cherishes you and wishes you to be his !

pre bf kyotani who now becomes your boyfriend when you accept to his confession by kissing his lips quickly before running away, leaving him confused and lovestruck !

♡

bf kyotani who is mean to everyone and everything except for you. he could and will get mad at his teammates, a random stray dog who keeps barking at him, hell, he even got mad at a random lamp post he had accidentally run into — sometimes, you have to stop him from attacking almost anything that gets in his way !

bf kyotani who now learns how to lower his guard and learns how to become gentle for you, his significant other. he doesn't want to accidentally lash out on the only person he adores so much !

bf kyotani who regularly gets questions from his teammates when you go to their practice and give him a kiss or two on the cheeks, asking him how he'd pull someone as sweet and bubbly as you !

bf kyotani he appreciates you wait for him during volleyball practice sitting down on the bleachers, doing your homework to pass by the time !

bf kyotani who will def give you a piggyback ride whenever you say your feet hurt due to how long you guys have been walking. acting all tough and strong but the second you kiss his neck once you're on his back, he melts immediately !

bf kyotani who will always go buy your favorite drink at the vending machine before he goes picks you up at your last class of the day so you guys can walk home together just so you can have enough energy to talk to him about your day. he'll never admit it but just hearing you ramble about whatever makes him fall in love with you more !

bf kyotani who will always snuggle up in your arms and sometimes cry whenever he loses a match, he trusts you as his s/o to know the words and actions to make him feel better !

bf kyotani who will hug you from behind and put his chin on top of your head whilst glaring at the person you were talking to which leads to that person excusing themselves because of the tall man's stares !

bf kyotani who will always split whatever he's eating in half and give the bigger piece to you, whenever you thank him, his face will pinken. and when you tease him for his flushed face, he'll playfully steal your half away from you. it's only when you pepper his face with kisses that kyotani will give it back to you !

bf kyotani who will absolutely soften up whenever he sees you playing with his dogs, he really appreciates you helping him take care of them !

bf kyotani whose bedside table is a spot dedicated to all sorts of trinkets you give to him — keychains, little plushies, even a picture of you two holding hands with a frame you decorated with all sorts of things !

bf kyotani who loves loves LOVES it when you cheer for him so loudly in his matches, he thinks of it as motivation to win. not for his team but for you, so you can be proud of him !

bf kyotani who you notice, is genuinely trying his best to be a good boyfriend, though he may be scary and imperfect, it doesn't stop him from trying his best to show you what a good lover is !

©🇯​​����​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

[experimental-blueprints]

I guess you could say Bianca is

Drop dead gorgeous

// oh she’s about to drop dead I’ll tell you that Samuel.

[santanamedley]

Summer Breeze

Toji x F!reader

Fluff, little bit of angst, reader isn’t megumi’s birth mother

Not proofread, probably ooc

~

Toji stands in line at a convenience store, a few drinks and snacks in his arms.

He waits patiently for the elderly woman in front of him to gather her things before setting his on the counter.

The cashier, a young woman, probably 18 or 19 at most, scans his items quickly before spouting out his total with a forced customer service smile.

Toji smiles back awkwardly, pulling his wallet out, the girl catches a glimpse of a Polaroid in his wallet, and in trying to make things less awkward she points it out.

“Is that your family?” She asks, pointing at the picture.

“Huh,” he looks down, “oh, yeah that’s my wife and son,” he says.

~

The picture was a bit blurry, a date scrawled messily at the bottom.

Despite the picture being taken over 10 years ago, he can still remember the day as if it were yesterday.

You were standing in the sand on the beach, a beautiful beach dress blowing in the wind as you smile.

Megumi, who was only 3 at the time, was held in your arms tightly. His much smaller arms wrapping around your shoulders, hugging you as tightly as he possibly could.

Toji was standing under an umbrella, Polaroid camera in hand. He snapped the photo and chuckled softly as you gestured for Megumi to pose for ‘a silly one.’

The first picture he took has been in his wallet for years and he doesn’t think he will ever take it out. His heart swells every time he gets a glimpse of his favorite people on the planet.

Toji didn’t think he could love someone as much as he loved his late wife, that was until he met you. Toji didn’t think he would ever remarry either, but when his late wife’s engagement ring fell out of his bedside table’s drawer he felt that he could try to love again.

Of course, he would never propose to you with her ring, but he took it as a sign from her. A sign that Toji deserved to love again.

“She would have loved you” is something he said the night after he proposed to you, and you’re sure that you would have loved her too.

~

Toji smiles fondly at the memory as he taps his card against the machine.

“Thank you,” he says, grabbing the bag from the young woman before heading back out to his car where his beautiful family was waiting for him.

He opens the car door and is met with his wife leaning against the window of the passenger seat sleeping, he looks back and sees Megumi, Nobara and Yuji sleeping as well and he smiles softly to himself.

He gets in the car, thinking to himself that maybe he should take another picture of you and Megumi for his wallet during this trip.

————

Notes~

This is my first post on this account be nice to me or I will follow you home!! :)

I’ve never written for a jjk character before so hopefully this doesn’t suck :p

Wrote this on my phone like a loser (I have a laptop I’m just lazyyy)