#i have an image of him in head that i think would look Much Cooler than luke actually is (/aff)

[periprose]

Sweet as Nuka Cola

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader

You're an upcoming actress who has a constant flirtation with Cooper Howard. But even if things seem to be off to a good start, a nuclear bomb, a cryogenic pod, and two hundred years of carnage ruins all of it. Is there something to be salvaged from your relationship with Mr. Howard?

Genre: Mutual pining, flirting, slow-burn, angst, friends to kind-of enemies to lovers (no cheating but maybe it's a little murky?)

Word Count: 11k

“Action!”

“Hello. Yes, it’s me.” You wave at the camera, adorned in a classic-red sweetheart neckline dress. “You might know me from ‘Girls Want It All’ or ‘Next Door Babe.’”

Here, you play up your recent bombshell status. As Ed, the director of this advert, keeps reminding you, you need to sell yourself to make customers listen.

You sway in your dress, squeezing your arms and throwing your waist back to plump and push out your chest. The implication of the sex appeal in your movies keeps people watching.

But you’re still a rather new actress, so America might not know you so well. You’re glad Nuka Cola has hired you– if you want to be a star, you need more exposure.

“Do you enjoy feeling refreshed?” You cock your head to the camera, pursing your red lips. “Well, golly, what a silly question. Who doesn't?”

“That's where Nuka Cola comes in.” You lift a bottle out of the cooler next to you, all gentle in demeanour, showing off the logo of the bottle to the camera, in your perfectly manicured hands. “With triple the amount of caffeine found in competitor's bottled cola, it's sure to keep you feeling up for a long, long time.”

“And it's good for you.” Ed whispers, a last minute adlib you did not agree to, but you're a professional, so you add it on with a little wink.

“And it sure as heck is good for you.” You smile, the infamous smile that's won you notoriety to Hollywood execs for being the newest bombshell on the block, and you throw your shoulders back as you really lean into your image. 

“Cut! That's a wrap, everyone!” Ed, wanting to finish early, quickly starts ushering everyone out so not a cent more gets spent. 

You immediately relax out of your practised, professional smile. “Any ADR needed?”

“Don't think so, but we'll let you know.” The director is already moving onto whatever his next project is. Advertisements make more money than anything else these days.

You head over to catering, where you're craving– not a Nuka Cola, considering how much sugar is in that thing it's hardly refreshing at all– but an iced tea. 

You stretch out your ankles in your kitten heels as you prepare it. If you told your Ma back in Mojave that the worst thing about fame would be the uncomfortable outfits, she'd smack you. So you keep it to yourself– you're grateful, you're humble, you'll never be an entitled asshole like those fucking execs.

“Watch out, I'm behind ya.” A man gently presses your shoulder as he walks next to you.

You know that voice. Famous movie cowboy, devilishly handsome, easy to admire. A career worth emulating.

“Mr. Howard?” You turn to look at him, and it is him. Wearing a tuxedo suit, smiling his classic, rugged grin at you.

“The one and the only.” He laughs in a self-deprecating way, as a man tired with his fame and used to mocking it. “Hey, wait, don't I know you?”

You immediately feel your face heat up. “Probably not– lots of people have mistaken me for Lucky Yates so far…”

“No, I do know you.” He points a finger at you, while pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “I told you mister, I'm not here for a long time. Just a good one, and if you can't provide it for me, I'll be inclined to look elsewhere.”

Cooper Howard does a perfect impression of your girly, haughty tone from “Girls Want It All”, and it surprises you that he even knows your dialogue that well. You're not used to this much attention, especially not from one of Hollywood's most notable movie stars.

He says your name.

“Yeah, that's me.” You say sheepishly– even though you know you have to fake that confidence, it's hard when you've been caught off guard. You're starstruck– you don't know how to operate, now realizing that even celebrities are noticing you. “Just shooting an ad for Nuka-Cola.”

“Ah, that’s smart of you.” He leans in– about to give you a bit of Hollywood advice, no doubt– and you feel yourself turning warm at the attention he’s giving you. “I wouldn’t expect any less from one of Hollywood’s upcoming stars– residuals aren’t enough to make the world go round.”

You know he’s admiring your street smarts, but you have to ask. “Upcoming, really?”

“Miss, I’m not sure many other actresses could’ve delivered that little monologue I just did without, er, pardon my language,” Cooper takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes peering down at you over the perimeter of the cup. “Fucking it up. Pantomiming too much wily, feminine shit  that execs love, without that little edge of real, subtle emotion. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

You giggle a little. “C’mon, really? I hardly got to act the way I wanted to.”

“That’s how it starts. Little moments, little subtleties where you’re letting your real character shine through– it’s noticeable to the industry. More opportunities come that way. But it’s smart to use, uh…” Cooper swallows, a tiny, imperceptible thing that reminds you of your bombshell image, that he must be thinking about it. “Smart to use such attractive imagery, if you get my drift. The public will eat you up.”

The way he drawls that latter part makes you feel excited, but you keep it down– it’s well known Cooper Howard is a married man, and you are not about to be ruined by an affair. Even if he does sound sort of flirty, this sort of complimenting is so common in Hollywood.

“What are you doing in the advertisement shooting lot?” You ask, changing the subject, and Cooper shrugs, a nonchalant ripple of a movement that tells you his general cool demeanour isn’t just acting.

“Promised my wife I’d shoot an advert for her. Vault-Tec, you know?” He admits, telling you he hasn’t forgotten about his wife, either. “Gotta head to the experimental Vault they’ve set up next door.”

“Yes, of course.” You, like anyone else, have seen the ads of Cooper in the Vault-Tec suit– it’s a rather controversial thing to be partaking in, but you think he knows what he’s doing.

“Well, Nuka-Cola.” He hands you an iced tea– one you didn’t even notice him making for you as you were talking to him. “I’ll see you around.”

/

The Ghoul walks around the wasteland, two hundred something years into the future.

He’s searching for a bounty– Leopold St. West– worth at least 1000 caps, and it’s terribly difficult to find him when every single person claims he’s in all these different locations, not a single one correlated to each other.

So he’s walking around a destroyed neighbourhood, where Leopold was last seen a day ago, if his fellow ghouls are to be trusted. If he had to guess, these are the remnants of China Town– the faux Asian-esque details, the cheesy red colouring, the false authenticity Hollywood loves to portray as “good as the real thing”. God, Coop does not miss some parts of the fame.

He suddenly stumbles over a piece of the broken sidewalk. Coop’s usually pretty agile, nonchalant on his feet– he knows this feeling. He’s going through withdrawal.

“Shit, I need a minute.” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit woozy.

He's only got a couple more vials of drugs, so he can't be using them all willy-nilly. No, he needs to recoup things and go through this carefully.

Shelter is necessary– the longer Coop is out in the sun, the harsher the effects of withdrawal feel. And, if he’s lucky, one of these buildings might have something for him to loot– more drugs if he’s extra, extra lucky.

Coop enters a nondescript building– where a radroach is waiting, and he immediately fires at it without even looking, killing it in one shot– and he sees the sign over the entry way, marking the lobby.

This is some Hollywood executive-owned club. It’s hard to tell– two hundredyears of wear-and-tear will do that for you– but Cooper Howard distinctly remembers this place, maybe in some conversation back then, maybe when he was networking. 

Every single thing has a distinct, thick layer of grime over it. Coop thinks of sweaty strippers dancing, actors cheating on their wives– they’re all probably dead now.

He reaches into his satchel and takes a hit of one of his vials– and hopes he can replace what he uses with something here.

There’s not a single bottle behind the bar, and he jostles through, not seeing a chem or a drug left behind by anyone on the floor or behind the counter, and he’s mildly disgruntled over how every place has nearly everything picked clean by raiders, wastelanders– just other people. Coop will always loathe these other assholes.

He climbs the broken stairs with a lanky, languid stretch, making it over a fairly large hole where a corpse waits on the floor below. A raider who didn’t watch where he was stepping. That tells him there should be loot up on this upper floor– at least a bit of it.

He walks to the one closed door in a less-than-discreet hallway, gold sconces and railings marking the way.

“Ah… private office.” Coop jiggles an ostentatious handle to a mahogany door, that is surely leading to an even more pretentiously ostentatious office, and he finds that it’s locked.

A good sign. Most likely no one’s ever been in there, because it’s probably a difficult lock to pick. 

It surprises him that no one’s ever just forced their way through.

Coop doesn’t waste time on this though– he just takes a teeny gun out of his bag, fires it, and admires the hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door creaks open on it’s own, and he saunters into a well furnished, dusty office room.

“Nope, nope, nope…” He pushes box after box in the shelves next to the wall, and they fall with loud clatter– loaded with panicky, nuclear-war-on-the-horizon type shit, like canned meats and beans and preserved jams and pickles. “Fuck no.”

He pushes off a toy figurine of Vault Boy down with extra gusto.

Coop looks behind the desk, where there’s a dusty placard reading Adrian Amos II. He grins– one of the worst producer bastards of all time is not someone he’d feel bad about stealing from, even if there was still some conscience left in him. No, sir, Adrian Amos the second did not deserve any sympathy, especially after the way he was known for bitching about salaries, abusing PAs, and having a predilection for going after less-than-consenting women.

Coop grits his teeth, remembering that asshole and how terrible and gaudy this club was back then. Not that it was better now– but he’s grateful for one man’s deserved death, at least.

He jostles open where the second drawer is filled with the glass clinking sound of many, many vials.

“Fucking jackpot, Jesus.” Coop stares down at how many there are– at least 40 or 50– a hell of a lot to just be left behind.

Well, based on the other supplies, Adrian Amos got fucked over and either didn’t make it to his vault in time, or forgot to run to his private club before heading in.

Coop doesn’t give a fuck, though. He starts piling the vials into his cases, and then back into his bag.

There’s a sudden whirring sound near him. “Huh?”

To his left, an imperceptible secret door has pushed itself outwards, decorated in the same dark brown wallpaper as the rest of the room.

Coop looks down and under– he’s accidentally pressed a secret button on the underside of the drawer. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t know what would be inside the secret room– assassins, raiders waiting on someone to dupe? Maybe even synths, just meant to protect Amos when he needed it.

Inside the room, it’s dark, and he can’t make out anything. Coop can only draw his gun rapidly when there’s a blue light suddenly emitting out from the inside.

He’s careful as he approaches– last thing Coop wants is an ambush– and as his vision improves, he sees it’s a cryonic pod, all frosted over so he can’t make out who’s inside.

Coop sighs, ready to leave it behind– he’s not interested in waking up Amos– and instead, the thing whirs, heating up it’s insides with extremely hot steam, and then opens up with a mechanical flourish.

Coop instinctively steps back, coughing “Holy shit!” as the air whooshes past him.

A body falls out, just looking slightly frosted– mostly thawed by whatever the cryo tank just did. 

/

You're on set again, sitting in a free lawn chair while others get ready for their take– it's not for a Nuka-Cola ad, it's just a guest appearance on everyone's favourite sitcom, The Grady Group, where you play an overly promiscuous babysitter who has no sense for watching over kids.

It's comedic, it's an easy way to get laughs– plus it actually boosts the shows’ ratings since you've been in movies and all. You’re done filming already, you’re just sitting here watching the rest of the shoot, dragging out your return to your car, and then back home. 

Something about the fictional family you wait on, Gill and Gina Grady, and their kids Gideon, Gessica, and Gwen, it makes you miss having a family of your own. In fact, you have half a mind to call your mother, despite all the bitching she’ll give you about the things you haven’t done yet.

It also doesn't help that Gill and Gina are a couple in real life– named Arthur and Bea Smith, they really, really are in love, and in between takes they're often canoodling with each other.

You're happy for them, if not a little– jealous, despite the fact that you're not interested in dating anyone right now. At least, you thought you weren't, but you find that lately, when you return back to your apartment all lonesome after a shoot, you feel like something is missing.

“Hey. Nuka-Cola.” Cooper Howard strolls over to where you're sitting, and you smile up at him, covering your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Mr. Howard. Shooting today?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not at all. Just lounging around, waiting for my kid.” He sits in the lawn chair next to you, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “Janey is on a field trip at a museum next door– I thought I’d kill some time before picking her up.”

“Ah, cute.” You grin. Janey Howard is an absolutely precious kid– she shares her dad’s smile, but has a curious nature that you admire. “Is she well?”

“As well as kids can be at that age, running around all the time.” Cooper shrugs. “You know how it is.”

“Kind of. I actually did used to babysit kids, so I know– they can never sit still or mind their business.” You laugh as Cooper grins. 

“So you went method for your guest appearance, huh?” He asks, and you’re mildly baffled.

“How do you know about that?” You squint at him, just being jokingly suspicious.

“Oh, I saw a few clips of your footage. While I was walking over here.” He points over at Stu, the director, standing on the living room set, watching clips on his viewfinder. “Seemed pretty natural to me.”

It almost bothers you that he seems so interested in you and your work, that he always voices support– but he’s well-known for being happily married, for being content in general, unlike you.  

Still, better a friend than nothing at all, that’s what you always tell yourself.

“Thanks. But it’s not hard being around kids, is it?” You reminisce being a kid in Mojave, playing with your friends on your street– and then as a young adult, babysitting new kids that still wanted to play with you. “I still sometimes feel like I’m just a kid pretending to be an adult.”

“That never goes away, darlin’.” Cooper laughs, and you blink. “Being an actor, especially, you’re never losing that childhood sense of wonder, you get my drift?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod. “I just don’t feel complete, I guess. I’m still waiting for the moment I’ll know I’m an adult– like maybe if I get married or something like that.”

“Being married didn’t change that for me either. Neither did being a dad.” He winces, and scratches at his stubble. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, but I think it’s all apart of being a human person.”

Your face turns a little more glum at that, and he wonders what he said that bummed you out. It’s not his intention– he wants to cheer you up.

“What’s with the sad, forlorn, ‘I’m-a-pretty-girl-come-comfort-me’ look?” Cooper utters as he leans in, and you laugh a little but silence yourself, recognizing his compliment.

It’s dangerous to flirt with this guy, this taken man who has nothing to gain but a bit of affection he may be missing, but you see that he knows his compliment had effect anyways– and he definitely likes that.

You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.

“I just… I like the thought of having a family.” You suck in air,at how foolish and girly this sounds, hardly the cutthroat businesswoman you need to be out here. “This is stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it isn’t.” Cooper taps his arm rest, thinking. “You’re hurting, I can tell. You got that same pissed off look most ladies get when they ‘don’t wanna talk’ but they’re holding tons of shit inside.”

Damn this guy, you think, but you decide to be honest.

“I just didn’t think it’d be so lonely out here. In Hollywood.” You press your palms together. “Like, everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by classic Americana, the nuclear family– and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous.”

“As a bachelorette, don’t you got plenty of options?” Cooper grins. “I mean, are men not lining up to court Nuka-Cola girl?”

“Ah…” You hum, thinking of dates you’ve had here, settling back in your seat. “I don’t know– it’s cheesy but I want more sincerity.”

“In that case, don’t be jealous, marriage ain’t all that.” Cooper tuts, knowing that you of all people should hear about how it doesn’t complete you. “It’s not perfect, it’s not a magical fairy-tale where everything gets solved, it’s a hell of a lot more work than people let on.”

“Oh.” You knew that, deep down– but hearing it from him really solidifies that for you. It’s a silly dream.

It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so you quiet down. But you’re not trying to get your hopes up about that or anything.

“And you’re not an idiot, Nuka-Cola. Don’t get into something you’re not a hundred fucking percent sure about.” Cooper clicks his tongue. “If you really feel the urge to suddenly go and play wife with someone, just for me, make sure he’s absolutely worth it.”

“For you?” You raise your eyebrows at that.

“I figure you won’t do it for yourself. Love is blind and all that.” He points at himself. “But if I, as your buddy Cooper, hold you to that? I’ll bet that you’ll vet every single guy.”

“Oh, really.” You smirk at him, your nose scrunching a little. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?”

“Uh…” Cooper is truly caught off guard here. He knows he didn’t intend anything by what he said, but it does feel like… he won’t enjoy the fact that if the next few times he talks to you, continuing become close to you, he’ll have to get the approval of some man.

Some man who wouldn’t even know you as long he has known you. He always likes his chats with you, and there’s an urge inside him not to let you go.

He thinks again that you’re a little too spontaneous. Not easy to dupe, no– he can’t just flirt with you for fun because you’ll always pick up on it, even if he did it by mistake.

“No comment.” He finally answers with a raspy, low tone, one that you barely hear but are satisfied by.

/

A few months later, you check your face in your little compact mirror before stuffing it in your purse and heading inside Sebastian Leslie’s home. Exciting, yes, because this is the first time you’ve been invited not just to network, not just because a big name has seen you in the movies and wants to flaunt that they know you tangentially.

No, this is the first time you know someone, you’re actually in with a crowd– you’re friends with the host. You don’t feel nearly as awkward walking into Sebastian’s comfortable home and seeing familiar faces that you’re close with, decor that you already recognize.

“There she is.” Sebastian greets you with a tight hug– for a massive flirt he’s actually rather protective of you sometimes. “Love the dress, by the way– is that a vintage Chanel? Black is very flattering on you, my dear.”

You get the sense he didn’t want you to be involved in this industry sometimes, but other times– he likes that you put work in.

“I saw your newest advertisement on TV yesterday.” He comments, and you giggle.

“Was it good?” 

“Yeah, amazing as usual– but you gotta do more than that.” Sebastian holds your hand as he pulls you into the crowd of other low-level actors, people who could risk showing up, really, and you fix your dress, a black one with a low square neckline. “Look into Vault-Tec– I’ve been telling Cooper here about how our futures are totally going to be surrounded by their products, even though that fucker does not want to listen.”

Cooper’s lounging in a low sofa in the pit of this living room, holding a crystal glass full of amber liquid, black button up shirt half open– he looks dishevelled, hair slightly askew, jaw off-kilter as he presses his tongue into his cheek, thinking. Lost by something, but still put together as celebrities are. Geez, you really need to temper your attraction to him.

It doesn’t help how he looks at you, either– there’s something deep and reverent about his gaze, like he wants to believe whatever he sees when he’s looking at you– but you have no idea if it’s real, or if it’s just an act like with most of these celebrities.

You used to see him a lot more frequently too, over the last few months. Either at set, or at more fancy parties– most of which he’s been perfectly pleasant and kind to you.

“Of course you’d label me as some fucking chairman for them, Seabass.” Cooper slams back half a pint of whisky, and pours himself some more. “Hey, Nuka-Cola.”

“Hey, Mr. Howard.” You smile gently. You’ve heard about his divorce– everyone has, but you’re not 100% sure why it’s happened, why now when things seemed to be going so well for him.

Well is relative, though. You know loads of actors have decried him privately– no one wants to hang out with the man promoting the end of the world, apparently. It must be a tough thing to only be hired for your wife’s advertisements– and even then, you don’t exactly agree with what they’re marketing, either.

You don’t feel so strongly against Cooper, though. Maybe because you do like him– but also because you know what it’s like to have your image connected to something you don’t really promote. Nuka-Cola isn’t healthy, it’s got enough sugar to induce instant death when drank regularly. But you do it for the connections, the money– and you’re sure Cooper did too.

“Cooper is fine.” He grumbles, and you remember his last name is maybe a sore subject right now.

“Sorry.” You do your best to be delicate as you sit next to him, and Sebastian sits on the other side of you. “How’re you, Cooper?”

“Not bad. If you count being divorced as being alright.” He sighs, and you feel terrible that you even asked. “It’s like I never knew her, man– I thought Barb was different. Or they changed her, I don’t fucking know.”

“She had her eyes set on the prize. As did you, Coop.” Sebastian states, and Cooper turns, affronted.

“We’re all interested in money and glory, Seabass. Fuck you if you think otherwise.” Cooper tenses, and you feel a bit awkward listening in on this conversation.

“What did I say that negates that? I’m as money hungry as they come.” Sebastian shrugs. “I only meant that– despite it all, making money was what you had in common, evidently not the world-going-nuclear shit. Maybe you’ve got a heart of gold, a change of mind, I don’t know, Cooper. But throwing away an easy life just to pay alimony must be fucking awful, so I just don’t think you’re in it for the money anymore.”

“You’re fucking telling me.” Cooper sniggers. “I don’t think Barb cares. I’m here with no career, and she’s out there getting promoted in Vault-Tec. As for the heart of gold… any former marine would’ve been against that shit.”

You want to ask what shit, but you don’t want to overstep your boundaries. You get the general fear of nuclear war– but Cooper sounds more personally affected by it.

Cooper glances over at you. “What do you think? Better to be richer than you can spend in a lifetime, or to be out with a good conscience?” 

“I don’t know if I’m that interested in money.” You say honestly, and Cooper raises his eyebrows.   

“Really? Nuka-Cola’s a saint, huh.” He chuckles– he’s clearly a bit buzzed.

“No, I’m not. Of course I want to have a career.” You think about this carefully, so it doesn’t sound insincere. “Making money is nice– but I don’t think I have the right to say it should come at the cost of human lives. You know Nuka-Cola is terrible for you, right? ”

Cooper stares at you for a moment too long, and then looks away. “Yeah… addicting.”

He’s definitely not talking about Cola, but you continue on. “Yeah, so just in that way– I disagree with how much power marketing has. We’ve convinced America that they need this– just so some chairman can make an extra dollar.”

Cooper looks at you, renewed by whatever you just said. “Hell, woman after my own heart. That’s damn true.”

“Yes, yes, you two oblivious flirts– there’s no art in filmmaking anymore, just commercialism. Not like it hasn’t been the case for a century.” Sebastian chimes in, and you bite your lip, pretending not to notice how Cooper’s face is smirking bashfully. “But, babe. You’re going to want to make your money before the world fucking ends.”

“What’s that?” You startle, and Cooper laughs sardonically at your surprise, while Sebastian gets up.

“Let me get myself a drink– I hardly want to tell this story sober.” He leaves, and Cooper has half a heart to glare at him– he knows Sebastian is leaving the two of you alone so he can do the dirty work.

Not like his reputation can ever get better, especially by telling this story again with it’s lurid details, but at least it doesn't hurt that he's with you. 

“What does he mean by that, Mr. Howard?” You wince at your use of that. “Sorry– I meant Cooper.”

“Ah, call me what you’d like.” Cooper takes another sip of his drink, leaning back in the couch to the point where he is practically lying down and against you. “It sounds good coming out of your mouth no matter what you pick, Nuka-Cola.”

Now that’s a suggestive, loaded line, and you feel a little more comfortable flirting with him even if it’s a bit of a rebound for him. The end of the world is approaching, right?

“The end of the world?” You prod at him, and he sighs, leaning against your shoulder. 

“It’s fucking ridiculous, what it is… probably never going to happen anytime soon.” Cooper’s tone of voice is hazy as he examines his last sip of whisky in the glass. “No, no. Just something those fucking commies put in my head. I guess they’re not really commies, are they?”

“Unless you elaborate, I can’t say.” You utter back at him, and he pushes down a smile.

“Alright. Vault-Tec’s been selling this nuclear protective stuff, right?” He says, and you nod, your cheek brushing against the top of his hair. “All I can say is that a few… radicals, if you will, think that Vault-Tec might actually be more involved with it than they say. Like, they might be…”

“Not just protective, huh? More offensive? Everyone’s got that feeling, Mr. Howard. And that doesn't sound like a particularly commie-train-of-thought to me.” You hear the sorrow in his tone, even if he’s trying to make it sound like a rumour. “Did you hear this from your ex-wife?”

Cooper winces here. He still feels slightly guilty about spying on her. A part of him thinks they might’ve not divorced if he hadn’t found out– but he knows he was bound to find out eventually, and he would’ve just delayed the inevitable.

“Maybe, Cola. Maybe you’re just sharp.” He whispers, and you smile and he feels it– your skin is intoxicatingly close right now.

“So, odds are?” You ask, just curious, and he exhales.

“Bad. I have to agree with them.” He admits, and it feels exhilarating to admit this– that Vault-Tec is gonna nuke the world at some point, that the radicals are more like minded to him than he’s wanted to believe in the past. “Even if it didn’t cost my movies, I regret partaking in what they were selling.”

That’s a big thing for him to say– you know Cooper loves acting, he absolutely adores playing a hardened sheriff, the last vestige of goodness in the wild, wild west. All the times you’ve visited him on his set– probably during his last contractual movie, now that you think about it– and he was always so excited to show off the architecture and intricacies of the fictional western town they’d set up, share script details and little character quirks so you could have an insider’s viewpoint. He even donned his cowboy hat on you, saying you wore it like a natural.

He loved being the hero, really.

He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.

“Most big-name connections refuse to talk to me because of this stuff– I’ve basically been dropped out of phonebooks all together. They think I’m still in on it, they think I’ve only stopped because of backlash–” He stops as you begin to scratch his scalp, still leaning against your shoulder, but getting progressively into your neck area.

Jesus, that feels good. He thinks. He hasn’t been intimate in a while– Barb became increasingly more cold to him over the last few months, as their marriage kept falling apart.

“Backlash, really?” You whisper. 

“Yeah.” He stutters for just a moment, because your eyes are peering into his, and for a moment he thinks you could really make it as just a bombshell if you wanted to– then he takes another puff. “When really, I was just backing out of what I thought was really a massive crime against humanity.”

“Are you only telling me this to validate your poor conscience? Remedy that reputation a little?” You ask, and he presses his lips together. 

“Well, I'll be honest, yeah. Of fucking course I'd tell the one woman who seems to be like me on this.” He sounds so certain of you, sounds so sure that you're on his side.

And you absolutely are.

“The world’s about to end, Mr. Howard. You're not a bad man for not wanting to support it. I'm inclined to agree.” You inhale deeply, and Cooper stares at you– something stirs inside him as he does. 

“Kiss me, then. Humour me– since none of this will matter soon.” Cooper murmurs, lying on top of your chest now, the smoke from his cigarette enveloping your face.

He’s so close you barely have to move to oblige to what he’s said– you're second guessing yourself for just a moment, because it feels like a dream that he'd ask you to do this, so out of the blue, such a picture perfect fantasy that you almost don't care about the impending doom, and you press your lips gently to his in an upside-down kiss, his hair brushing against your open cleavage, but Cooper is insistent and leans upward, kissing you with such intensity that your head is spinning afterwards.

God, now that's a movie star kiss. You think.

He kisses you again as Sebastian returns, drink in hand.

“Oi! You two. Jesus Christ, can't keep your hands off each other, can you?” Sebastian pretends to vomit. “C’mon, if I want to talk to you at my party, I should have that right.”

You attempt to pull away– but Cooper, being a little mischevious, perhaps wanting to show off in a way he hasn’t been able to, sits up right and kisses you again, this time normally, just very slowly and passionately though, slithering an arm around your waist in a way that has Sebastian rolling his eyes. 

“Okay, present.” He says, not pulling his arm off your waist. 

“Thanks.” Sebastian shakes his head. “I was thinking we should take the mood off with some party games…”

/

It's about 2 AM when you've finally left the party. Cooper didn't want to let you go– he's crashing at an apartment for the time being, but you really don't want to waste yourself on being his rebound, if he really likes you.

You tell him as much, and he likes that– you really are rather sharp about things. 

“Well. Gimme a call when you realize I'm not kidding around with you.” He says unabashedly, holding your hand, kissing it as you leave.

You’re absolutely sure he's drunk, and he's being a little too clingy– but you want to believe him anyways. 

You walk back to your car, alone. Thinking about if Cooper is worth the damage it could have on your potential career. But then again– the end of the world is coming, right?

So maybe it won’t matter. And you find that you like this, the secret potential of this option, just hanging out with Cooper in a place that used to be America, no more expectations on you both. There’s also the chance you just both die, though.

You shudder.

You don't notice that there's a man in the backseat of your car when you get in, brandishing a chloroform stained cloth.

/

The Ghoul prods at the body that's just fallen out of the cryo pod.

Oh fuck. 

It's starting to stir, whoever it is, and Coop knows he's ready, if this is really some synthetic android-clone thing, to make their life hell. Get some of his anger out on something that doesn’t matter.

Wait– he recognizes that cherry red fabric. That coiffed hair, frosty after being inside the pod. Oh, Jesus… even the makeup is the same as when he last saw you. 

“Ah… shit.” He chuckles to himself in exasperation, because this is beyond belief. “Nuka-Cola, is that you?”

You tilt yourself to the side, eyes bleary, unable to see clearly. Everything’s dark. But you know that voice, you just heard it a couple of days ago.

“Mr. Howard?” You croak out, and he hisses inwards– nobody has called him that in centuries. Nobody knows who he is… except for you, of course. 

“The one and the same, baby.” He licks the side of his gums, deciding to stick with his identity for now. “Well, maybe a little different. You wouldn't happen to know what a Ghoul is, huh?”

“What?” You don't know how long your vision is going to stay black for, but you don't like the sound of that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Eyes haven't been opened for… two hundred years. I'll give you some time, Cola.” He sighs; cracks his neck, while you sink back into the floor. “Just imagine the ugliest horror-picture monster you can imagine. Zombie, no nose. That paint a picture for you?”

“...”

“What was that?” Coop can't hear you when your voice is muffled into the tiles of this secret room. He grasps your hair gently, from the root, pulling your head upwards so you'll speak– clearly you don't have the strength to lift up your body. 

“I said, how is that any different from before?” 

“Oh, she's still a jokester.” Coop scoffs– despite himself he snorts– and he lets go of your hair so you land back on the floor with a thump.

“–Ow!” You flinch, and then turn over so you’re on your back. “Still an asshole, huh?”

“Me?” He grins maliciously. Ooh, maybe he can use some misplaced anger on you. “You're the one who didn't call back for several weeks.”

“How could I? You can see I've been trapped in a cryo thing for… however long. Did you say two hundred years?” You flatly ask, and Coop still thinks you're lying.

“Yes, and bullshit. You probably had a couple weeks since I last saw you to call me.” He states, and he doesn’t actually hold a grudge, at least not that much of it in comparison to all the other horrid shit that’s happened to him– he just thinks it's funny to push your buttons after all of that, like looking into a mirror of the past– and you groan.

“No, I didn't. I got in my car after Sebastian's party, and some goon sprayed something in my face, I passed out, and he drove me here.” You start, and you begin frowning in such a way that Coop almost feels bad. 

“Why you, sweetheart?” He shakes his head. “You weren't exactly high up in popularity yet.”

“Exactly. No one would miss me.” You spit out bitterly, remember the end to that night, where you were so unaware of your surroundings, and terrified of being assaulted as you were pushed around into this room, blindfolded.

“Adrian fucking Amos, the fucking Second, thought it would be great if I just became his permanent doll during the apocalypse.” You swallow, and Coop sits down next to you, to listen more clearly. You shift towards his body heat– and to his surprise, he still likes that. “See, his daddy has shares in Vault-Tec, so he decided before nuclear fallout happened, he wanted a guaranteed sex slave from his favourite advertisements.”

“Nuka-Cola.” Coop utters with the slowest drawl, concluding your statement– and you like that.

“Yeah, Nuka fucking Cola.” You grimace. “Then he undressed me, put me in this little number, and threw me in the pod. I barely remember this shit because I was so out of it.”

“Shame. I always wondered why you never called me back.” Coop circles back to his little grudge– but he also feels bad, feels some level of guilt that neither he nor Sebastian had the sense to look out for you back then, and you were practically assaulted (maybe actually so if you didn't remember). 

“Yeah, because I wanted to miss out on that piece of ass. Sure.” You joke feebly, and Coop laughs despite himself. 

“Honey, you're gonna run away screaming when you finally see me. Don't worry about it.” He shakes his head. “The real world's a lot more fucking difficult than would'ves and could'ves.”

“Okay, explain. If you're willing to owe me that much.” You start, and Coop gets reminded of that fateful night a couple hundred years ago, where he was the one to clue you into the impending nuclear war.

Not even three months later, it was all over, and you were nowhere in sight– if his mind ever did drift to you, the what-ifs and who-knows that still persisted– he would always assume you were dead.

Now he thinks you're just unfinished business. 

“Fine.” He taps your shoulder, and you lean a little closer towards him– you touch his hand, and instead of flinching as many people have in the past– you trace the tough, callused skin there.

He thinks there’s something wrong with you. Why do you seem drawn to him anyways? You’re completely fucking up his tough guy, lone-wolf persona by being here, and he wants you gone. He pulls away his hand, ignoring how your face falls for a moment.

Coop inhales, and then starts. “In October 2077, they nuked America, bombed it all to hell. By they, I think we both know what I’m implying.”

“It wasn’t the Chinese.” You interrupt, and he shushes you.

“Yeah, Cola.” He starts playing with his fingers, feeling like you don’t deserve to be here right now. That you should’ve just stayed dead. “Vault-Tec destroyed it all.”

It’s no good. He’s an old man, and you’re still as soft and young as ever. He’s always haunted by his past, like with Barb and Janey, and then Sebastian’s voice in every single Mr. Handy robot he comes by, and then finally, his last couple memories with you.

“The last two hundred something years have been filled with carnage, death, unspeakable horrors that your pretty little mind could never comprehend.” He grits out, pushing past the past and remembering that this is who he is now– a killer– and you stare at him vacantly, because his tone is so much more serious suddenly. “Nothing is the same. Everyone has blood on their hands, water is a fucking commodity, if you’re not watching out for humans to betray you, hideous creatures like me roam the ground, and that ground? Sands, deserts, barely a hint of green. It’s nothing worth coming back to.”

“So you’re saying I’m in hell.” You suddenly inhale harshly, and Coop ignores the urge to check on you.

The last thing he needs is an extra person to take care of– especially someone who doesn’t know the Wasteland. So it’s better now that he just weans you off and leaves you here.

“Yeah, sweetheart. And I'm the devil.” Coop sucks on his teeth again. “If you had any sense, you’d go back into that fucking freezer until some utopia is born four hundred years from–”

You flinch, and he stops. 

“Oh, God, my eyes–”

The sight comes back slowly then all at once. Light everywhere, overwhelming your senses. 

You blink, tears rolling down your face. 

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you stayed blind, Cola.” He stares at you as you rub your eyes, taking in the state of the room. 

It’s a warning, but you look up at him again anyways. And Coop waits for the utter horror, for the sign that he really has transformed into a monster, so he can hurry up and leave– this entire conversation with you is just him finishing Cooper Howard’s past with a bow. A shiny, Nuka-Cola-red bow.

“...” You swallow, and then bite your lip, tilting your head up at him. “Couldn’t let go of the cowboy identity, huh?”

Coop furrows his non-existent eyebrows, disliking how hard you’re making this, how clever you still seem to be– you also seem way too relaxed with him. He has half a mind to fire a warning shot at you. “Yeah, okay, darlin’. You’re just avoiding facing that horrific, bile-inducing sensation in your throat, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, disagreeing immediately. “You might look– a little less like how I remember you, I guess… but you’re still you. I see it, and apparently so do you.”

How dare you? Coop thinks, how dare you intertwine his two images together so easily when he could never be the same man again, when just seeing an old VHS tape of one of his movies pains him?

“Yeah, no thanks. If this is your way to get me to valet you around, I’m not that man anymore, Nuka-Cola.” He resents the way you think he could still be good– just because his western image brings him a little comfort nowadays. “Not a sheriff anymore.”

Your face drops, but you seem to take that information readily. “Yeah, I figured that based on your outfit, the little blood splatters on your pants… if that’s how the world is, then so be it.”

You’re saying things that on paper should be right– but Coop is getting more and more disgruntled with you, and you feel like you need to separate yourself from him. Yes, tough, because to you it’s been all of forty-eight hours since you kissed him– but you can see, no matter how deep the original Cooper Howard is inside this new Ghoul, you’re not going to be able to bring him out.

You stand up, on shaky, bare feet, and motion for Coop to move out of the way. Independent woman to the end, you are, and you want to get your bearings without him.

Coop internally sighs. He doesn’t believe for one second you’ll survive out there– and he really doesn’t need to spend the time seeing you die, so he turns around, and leaves you here.

/

He never did find Leopold St. West, much to his chagrin– you really, really messed up his day. 

It happens. Sometimes he’ll see Janey in another person’s eyes and freak out, and have to boil it down by murdering random raiders. 

But now Coop is just spiteful. He’s always figured that a lot of what happened to the world was just a bunch of rich people picking and choosing a destiny for themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and now he’s aware that included you, too. To casually be grabbed away by some man, just because he was rich… Coop isn’t unsympathetic to how you ended up, even if he treated you quite poorly. It’s sickening.

Two hundred years of quiet, always-dwelling agony, the first few years out of fear for being alone, and the next few years spent conspiring about what could’ve happened to his family– and then here you are as confirmation of his worst theories.

No wonder he enjoys his casket time.

/

Coop sighs.

Vaultie is hard to keep track of. She got away with murder this time at the organ harvesting clinic– so Coop finds it easier to stop working with her, to move when he wants to.

The Govermint (really just Booker’s shitty gang) was rather easy to dismantle. The two sheriffs that he killed required no expertise on his part.

He’s thinking about the fact that since Moldaver is still alive, and apparently that fucker Hank MacLean, then that means there’s a good chance Barb and Janey are too– perhaps he could go and find them.

It’s an odd urge, though. Everytime he thinks about it, he wonders how he’s actually supposed to connect with them again– they’ve been fractured for so long, and he’s changed, and there’s a good chance neither of them would accept him like this.

But you did, didn’t you? You were on the verge of saying yes, you’d accept him– as if nothing had changed.

Coop grumbles. The big, significant difference is that you were infatuated with him, but Barb divorced him, and Janey was too young to make that choice. He considers that it could be a pipe dream, but he still has hope– for Janey, at least.

He thinks you’re probably dead anyways. He hasn’t seen you in several months, since that day where he unceremoniously woke you up– and he hopes it stays that way.

He's chilling in another small, scrappy area of the wasteland. Nobody bothers the Ghoul, not when he's casually fiddling with his gun and and chewing on a toothpick.

A man runs past him, holding a significantly valuable piece of Brotherhood equipment. Maybe worth thousands of caps if he knows his shit, and he does. That’s a fusion core, and they’re not exactly mass producing those anymore during the apocalypse.

Coop points his gun at him, finger on the trigger, seconds away from creating a bloody mess–

A blade thwacks into the guy’s neck, blood spurting as he falls and chokes. A person– a woman– jumps on his back, her face obscured by a deep green bandana . She yanks out the knife, stabs a few more times for good measure– and Coop knows the game, he’s not surprised he’s not the only one to go after this guy.

He’s pretty good at killing casually, and he barely even moves from where he’s standing, aiming the gun at her.

No way is he letting easy money pass by him.

He’s about to pull the trigger extra-quick when she yanks the bandana down, taking a deep breath as she sweats, and Coop actually misses.

It’s you. You stare up at him from where you’re squatting over the body, and your gaze hardens, furrowed brows, dark lashes, intensely dark pupils. You purse your lips, press them together, jaw set in a stern fashion, recognizing him but refusing to hear him out– and Coop doesn’t know why he’s not firing, but he’s almost… enamoured with how you are now, almost taken aback by your new nature.

Not so taken aback that he doesn’t immediately start firing when you take the fusion core and start running.

And Coop doesn’t want to actually kill you, he just wants to incite some damage. See how far you can take it.

You interweave through random gaps in the metal scraps of this little abode, seeking shelter as you do so, and Coop’s gunfire only ricochets off them with cartoony sounding “pings!”

He manages to graze your left thigh through a small window, and you inhale sharply, stopping as you grit through the pain.

Coop grins to himself. This little cat and mouse chase is what he expected, what was predictable from you– you’re smart enough to stay on the defense, but you would probably never attack him, avoiding him because of your sad feelings of the old times, never resort to carnage unless you needed to–

You shove past the walls where you’ve been roaming, and manage one kick against his stomach and he manages to grab you and restrain you, your back against his front.

You grab his own jacket for purchase, and instead of pulling forward– you push back, landing on top of him with a thud that surely hurts him. Coop clenches his teeth, back against the ground now, but you scramble, straddling him. Hands around his throat, knife pressed against one of his tendons. Not outright strangling him, but just enough pressure that he knows you’re seriously threatening him.

Holy fuck, have you changed. Just like Vaultie, maybe you’re showing your honest self– and Coop supposes it may have been his mistake to underestimate you.

“Got a whole new outfit… I like it.” He admires your new leather jacket, cargo pants around your thighs pushing his arms down, a blouse fashioned out of your old Nuka-Cola dress. Tough combat boots dig into his thighs as you push against him. “Don’t fucking start–” You squeeze a little harder and he groans, the tip of the knife pushing in. “With your on and off, hot and cold bullshit.” 

Ooh, it sounds like you have a little bit of a grudge over how you were treated.

“Get over it, Cola. It was centuries ago, whatever we had.” He spits out, and you have a glint of sadness in your eyes.

He knew you were a little too gushy for your own good– not even he adapted that quickly to the wilderness of the Wasteland. He waits for you to make the mistake, apologize, break down– and then he can take the core and get out of here.

But you’re still firm in your grasp of him, your weight pushing him down, blade against him.

You’re not angry about back then. You’ve come to terms with that.

You’re angry at the state of the world. 

“You know what I fucking hate, Ghoul?” You spit in his face, and he blinks, spittle now on his chin. “You are all so selfish. I got left behind, likely for dead, right, and nobody gives a shit, whatever. But instead of me hoping that the leftover crumbs of society would at least try to be, I don’t fucking know, more hopeful and kind, or at the very least, not be so fucking greedy and transparently trying to be the new party in charge.”

“You’re living in a dream world.” Coop interrupts, and he’s rewarded with you carving a small, little cut on his cheek, a rapid movement you hardly think about, and it causes him to inhale sharply, a drop of blood smearing across his face.

“Oh, no. I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and play family.” You laugh suddenly, and then somehow lean in closer, and Coop finds that in some fucked up way he enjoys the pressure against him. “It’s bullshit, that kind of image making– you and I both know that. But for all this supposed talk against the rich billionaires who ruined our lives, how are we not just emulating them?”

Coop is actually drawn to silence.

“Maybe you actually got fooled by self-image, Cola.” He murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just people’s true nature.”

You don’t like that answer. You don’t actually want to believe that, but the more you think about it, the more it’s probably true. People lie all the time, but the amount of outrage you’ve heard from people the last few months, bemoaning Vault-Tec and all those rich fuckers, you were inclined to believe they wouldn’t act the exact same way.

Just at a different level. Power corrupts all, you guess.

You loosen your grasp a little. “Thank you.”

It’s honest, and Coop doesn’t like how much he does like your nature of trusting him– how even as this new, terrible version of yourself, you still trust him, and you still ask for his advice.

He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he thinks maybe he can get some use out of you yet.

Coop wrangles his arm from out under your thigh, where you’ve accidentally let a gap through, and shoves you over.

You fall with a gasp, hitting the ground, and he stands up and kicks you for good measure, while you screech in pain. 

Coop picks you up by your throat, and you instantly move to fighting– your blade against his stomach, teeth gritted in resolute urge to kill– but he’s got his pistol at your neck, and the way he brushes it against you is almost like a lover’s embrace.

“One thing I hate is a fucking liar, Cola.” He grumbles, and you glare at him. “You’re not some innocent– why else do you got a fusion core in your pocket?”

“I never claimed I was a good woman.” You shake your head. “I just wonder why the Brotherhood, the Enclave, hell, even some of the Raiders… everyone wants the ultimate piece of the pie.”

“Besides, you’re the one who kept saying to survive out here I’d have to be a killer.” You remind him, and he looks down at you, thinking. “The world’s grieving– I don’t blame it for that, I feel the same way.”

You’ve still got a way with words, he thinks, and he was right. He can use you for his benefit.

“Say, Nuka-Cola. Why don’t we take some of those fuckers down?” He stills. “Not randoms. The power-hungry pie-eaters, like how you so eloquently put it.”

You don’t fully trust him again, but you’re into the prospect. You don’t want power, and you know he doesn’t either, but it’s not just looting. No, no, this is something akin to revenge.

“Alright.” You whisper.

“Alright. Okay, I won’t shoot if you don’t cut me.” He speaks softly, slowly, trying to cajole you out of attacking– and you move as he does. 

The threatening air of before is gone now, and the Ghoul has only a odd stare for you, something that makes you feel watched, almost reminding you of two centuries ago. It could be that he doesn’t trust you either– and so you walk onward with a gap between you two, heading to wherever a faction that needs fucking up could be.

/

Coop strolls inside the makeshift bar as you make conversation, staying within the shadows. It’s not on official Enclave grounds, it’s simply a nearby bar where members have been known to hang out. 

He doesn’t exactly mind being the one to pick up the slack of killing people– he can tell you’re good at charming people what with your former bombshell acting techniques, your silly, soft blinks, the way how your skin still looks smooth and untouched.

Was it all a lie with him? Aw, shit, why does he care? He really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s been manipulated by you– he won’t be manipulated by you now, when he gets rid of many the people who represents obstacles in his way to finding still-existing Vault-Tec members.

Yes, that’s all this is to him. Another step to finding Moldaver, Henry MacLean, then his family if he’s lucky. And you’ll get some rage out of it, so he doesn’t even consider this to be that bad of an evasion of his. 

You laugh at something the guy next to you says. Coop catches a bit of it, of him asking how you look under that big jacket– and you mentioning you’d like to see him without that government get-up, too.

He grits his teeth. He’s not fucking in love with you, or anything stupidly juvenile like that– but he definitely felt something before when the two of you were fighting, or when you had conversations during the long, arduous talk here– you bit into a piece of his jerky when he offered it, and he laughed in surprise that you didn’t spit it out after he revealed it was feral ghoul ass jerky.

He also found that his gaze kept being drawn to you, too. You kept up with him, you were capable of hunting and searching on your own, you took lives when the need arose, and you had his back, even if he didn’t ask for it.

You made him subconsciously draw from the past, reminiscing about a time with you and a future he never thought he’d revisit. And now he can’t ignore that, so he needs to let off some steam.

There’s a splatter of blood across your face as the guy in front of you splutters, a bullet hole shot through his forehead. Little pieces of flesh hit the bar counter as he falls, and you gasp.

Coop is kind of quick with it now– he fires off, and because these “politicians” are unprepared, he’s able to kill off more than half.

You get over your shock quickly and fire your own tiny pistol at random, managing a few kills, but the Ghoul takes the last one and looks back at you, with an intrepid glance that you can’t figure out.

“What the hell was that?” You call out, and he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to pilfer the bodies, looking for shit to take. “Hey, Ghoul…”

“We came here to kill off those guys.” He answers you, but it’s not really an answer.

“Yeah, but I thought we agreed on discussing this shit as we were doing it. What happened to signalling?” You approach him, and as you get close enough, he turns around and stares unnervingly into your eyes.

“I did signal, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, lying through his teeth. 

“Bullshit.”

“No, I did.” He points at you. “It’s not my fault that you were too busy schmoozing and flirting to notice.”

“Wow.” You laugh exasperatedly at his antics, while he tilts his head. “You’re really obtuse, you know?”

“Nah. I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna say you’re not jealous–” At that word, the Ghoul snarls, ready to tell you exactly how little he cares for you, and you motion for him to zip it. “But at the very instance of seeing me flirt, mind you, in the most fake way possible, you lost it. You can’t even tell the difference between my genuine flirting and the fakest, schlockiest shit?”

“...” Coop frowns, because you’re right– he did kind of let his mind go wild over nothing in particular. 

Even worse, it means he’s made it apparent to you that he still harbours some feelings for your long-ago relationship. And that’s definitely a potential weakness– he does not want you to believe you can just work him around.

“Fuck you.” He spits, and instead of your face flinching in hurt, you stay neutral.

“I know you think you can come close and then shove me off every once in a while, because you’re fucking terrified of what it means that you’re not as hard as you pretended to be, that you still have a bit of human emotion inside you.” You tiptoe up to his face so he can’t avoid you. “I don’t care. That’s your problem.”

You turn to leave, to continue looting the bodies– and Coop’s hand wraps around your wrist. 

He hates what you’ve said, because it’s absolutely provoking the worst issue he has– he can never just let go. Two hundred years of this has made him a different creature altogether, spiteful; evil, but Coop knows as well as anyone that his transformation doesn’t negate his original nature, buried deep down.

It was a lie on his part– people are not as evil as he made them out to be, it’s the cycle of this situation that perpetuates that shit. Violence begets violence and all that. He can’t seem to say this to you, though, because he can tell you already probably knew that.

What is this fuckery, that you’re able to generate such a sense of guilt in him?

“Show it to me again. Genuine flirting.” he says instead, and he knows it’s stupid as hell to say something like this. “It’s been hundreds of years, you can’t expect me to fuckin’ remem…”

You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.

He’s half expecting you to punch him, but you see something you like– something that finally satisfies you, and you kiss his cheek, where you cut him much earlier in the day. It’s a soft bruise, mostly healed over in the way ghouls heal– but it’s overwhelmingly, embarrassingly hot there now as you pull away.

“I won’t forget the difference next time, Nuka-Cola.” He tips his hat at you in a mockery of his acting as a dashing cowboy once upon a time.

“Won’t be a next time.” You shrug. “I would hate to have to flirt with someone again just to get you to notice me.”

This severely bothers him, like you haven’t been an annoyance in his mind this whole time. And then he wonders if you’re an idiot, like you have no idea the effect you had on him back then, and even now. Hell, even that overly-chaste kiss has him remembering how he felt at Sebastian’s party when you humoured him the first time.

Do you think the only thing he’s burying is some empathy for the human race?

He can’t just let you be this wrong about this, no fucking way. And it’s with this in mind that the Ghoul feels his reserve melt as he tightly grabs your face and kisses you. Not a soft, movie-star kiss of the past, but one more hungry, his lips swallowing yours, pressed sternly, firmly, like he’s not gonna let you go. He parts his mouth ever so slightly, trying to catch a reaction from you.

You’re caught off guard, and he’s glad. He likes that you don’t know what to do with yourself, that for once you’re floundering rather than him, and you barely remember to kiss back until a couple seconds later when your hands grasp the base of his skull. You’re tracing grooves, calluses, skin that’s been eroded by his ghoulishness. You feel like he tastes ever so acidic– perhaps from the radiation emitting from his body– but some weird part of you loves it, and you part your lips as you kiss him harder, wanting to feel his tongue.

Your lips are just as soft as he remembers– but there’s more excitement now, more of an urgency as you kiss him, so he takes your invitation and swirls his tongue around on yours, disgustingly vulgar and perversely fast, yet lingering to enjoy the sensation, and he kinda loves being a corrupting force, being the ghoul who eats up this sweet human girl, and he tightens his grip– it almost hurts you, how tightly his hands weave around your waist suddenly– and then before you know it, he pulls away.

He wipes his mouth, never taking his eyes off of you.

“So. Did I taste like Nuka-Cola?” You joke, and he laughs in your face.

“Nope. Darlin, you haven’t been the Nuka-Cola girl for hundreds of years. They replaced you not long after you vanished.” He smiles widely at how your face drops. “I can show you some of the new girl’s billboards, if you’d like.”

“That would explain the lack of revenue.” You raise your eyebrows. “Then why do you still call me Nuka-Cola, Cola, etcetera?”

“That’s how I remember you.” It sounds too sweet, too nice that he keeps your nickname on tabs, so he twists his lips in a sneer. “Plus I don’t remember your name.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, finding his insult more funny than anything else, and turn around to take items from the bodies around you. “Okay, Mr. Howard.”

It was the optimal moment for you to joke back, calling him the Ghoul, but in classic you-fashion, you decided to extend an olive branch to him– reminding him that he’ll never just be the Ghoul to you. And even if Coop knows he’ll always remember you by Nuka-Cola, he has a fondness for you that he doesn’t neglect anymore– and he murmurs your name so softly, but just enough that you turn back and look at him, and smile with pleased recognition. 

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II

Cooper Howard x fem!reader A/N: This is really a prelude to the real story. It’s who they were before the bombs dropped and not as fleshed out as it could be. Summary: Hollywood doesn’t agree with you, as much as you wished it would. Until you meet Cooper Howard and he flips your world upside down. (Image below does not represent reader, I mean I don’t even look like that)

“Quench your thirst and a little bit more,” you winked and held up the dripping bottle of Nuka-Cola. You shot your best smile at the camera in front of you, holding it until the director let out a loud “Cut!” The smile dropped instantly and you dumped the bottle back in its cooler. 

Tom walked behind the camera, a frown on his face as he replayed the clip. You’d been here two hours already for a thirty second promo, there’s no reason it should have been taking this long.

You shifted, the leather on your legs creaking uncomfortably. They had you in some odd little space suit, more sexy than functional. The backdrop behind you was of painted stars and an out of scale moon. You weren’t sure how space and Nuka-Cola connected but a check was a check. 

“Is that who I think it is?”

You turned around at the sound of gasping. Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped when you watched the Cooper Howard walk through the entrance of the studio. Your biggest celebrity crush and idol just walked through the door and you were dressed like a sexy astronaut. This is beyond embarrassing. 

You had begged your agent to let you take some more serious roles, or at least a few fun ones. You’d been stuck in the same role of sexy bombshell for too long. You couldn’t even escape it doing a few advertisements. You wanted someone like Cooper to think you were classy or distinguished at least. Not some sellout with over lined red lips. 

You whipped your head around, hoping he wouldn’t notice you, and pretended to be fascinated by the cheap set you were on. “Mr. Howard, a pleasure,” you briefly glanced over your shoulder to watch your director shakehis hand. Cooper looked up, his eyes briefly catching yours. You winced and turned back around. 

“What are you doing here?”

”Filming a new advertisement for Nuka, would you like to see?”

”Why, yes I would.”

Oh, this was wonderful. Just great. You reached up to pinch the bridge of your nose but your hands just jammed painfully against the plastic of your helmet. You listened to them replaying your clip, hating the sultry tone of your voice. You hated being typecast like this. 

You didn’t work so hard to earn your spot in Hollywood just to be forced into the role of a sex symbol. You could be more, you knew it. You just needed a chance. “You did wonderful.”

You jumped in shock at the voice near your ear, your helmet hitting something hard. You heard a groan of pain and turned around mortified to see Cooper holding his nose. “Oh, Mr. Howard, I am so, so sorry.”

He shook his head and held up a hand, smiling amicably at you. “My fault, sweetheart, shouldn’t have snuck up on ya.”

You let out an annoyed huff and finally pulled the damn thing off. “Honestly, I should pay more attention, this damn thing’s a safety hazard.” He chuckled and it made you smile without even realizing it. You could feel the heat already blooming under your skin, just barely resisting the urge to fan yourself. But you couldn’t help but be flustered. It was Cooper Howard!

He finally let go of his nose and you sighed in relief when you saw that it wasn’t too badly damaged. He seemed to understand your relief because he laughed again. You heard whispers behind the two of you and finally realized just how close you both were. A couple PA’s stood huddled together, pointing at you with accusing fingers and harsh glares. 

Probably not smart to be a sex symbol and stand so close to a married man. 

You dropped the smile and took a step back from him. As much as you disliked typecasting, you would hate losing jobs more. You didn’t need any rumors to spread because you smiled too widely at Cooper. Lord knows your career barely survived the last round of gossip, that you’d been sleeping your way into roles. Which you hadn’t. You don’t need anything more like that bothering you now. 

Cooper glanced over your shoulder and seemed to notice the same thing as you, but he didn’t seem bothered by it like you were. Of course, he was a man and he was very happily married, he didn’t have to worry about the same things as you. He was secure in both his relationship and place in the world. You’d just barely gotten a foothold on everything. 

“I thought you seemed just sweet as peaches in that clip.”

You gave him a brief smile, “Thank you.”

”Though,” he frowned and glanced over at the director. You rolled your eyes when you saw Tom point over at you and then gesture to his stomach. If they sinched your waist one more damn time your ribs were going to crack. “I don’t quite understand why you had to be seductive.” He seemed genuinely perplexed but it didn’t take a genius to understand the underlying message of his words. 

You shrugged, “Just seems to be the way my career is going right now.”

”Is that what you want?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. You haven't been asked that before. Of course you’d spoken up about being unhappy with your roles, though you still took them. But no one had ever asked you what you wanted. An odd feeling bloomed in your chest and you took another precautionary step back. “Um,” you frowned and shook your head, “no. It’s not what I want.”

He smiled, seemingly pleased by the answer. “Look, sweetheart, I didn’t come here to drink cola or chat,” he held up his hands in apology, “as wonderful a conversationalist as you are. I’m filming a movie right now. We're looking for a lady with a strong presence to be my companion in the film. I’ve seen your movies, you’re capable of a lot more than they’re giving you to work with. I think you’d be perfect for the role.”

Your ears started to ring as you stared at him in shock. It was hard to keep your jaw closed the longer he spoke. There’s no way that everything you’ve been wanting was just being offered to you on a silver platter. Stuff like that only happened in…

Well, it only happened in movies. 

“That is if you want the role? You’re not looking particularly enthused,” he gave you a charming grin and you finally remembered you actually had to respond to him to get what you wanted. 

“Yes!”

You didn’t care how loud you were or how dirty the looks you were getting from others were. There was nothing on your mind other than the man in front of you and what he was offering you. 

Everything you wanted. 

You stared up at the poster on Cooper’s wall. “I always thought I looked ridiculous in this one.”

“Well,” Barb came up behind you and handed you a martini. You took it from her with a grateful smile and took a sip. You tried to stop your face from screwing up but alcohol had never really sat well with you. “I think you look amazing.” She smiled at you and walked back towards the living room. 

You stayed where you were at the end of the stairs, staring up at the too-large poster. You and Cooper were standing back-to-back, your gun raised to your lips and a smirk on your red lips as your hat laid tilted over your eyes. The bright red cursive title sat under your spurred boots, The Outlaw and The Sheriff. 

Well, they certainly hadn’t been creative with the name. You couldn’t really bring yourself to care, though, it had been your first real role. You had played someone of substance, someone whose entire life didn’t revolve around the man she wanted to have an affair with. Cooper had opened up more doors for you then he would ever understand. 

You turned from the poster and back to the party. For once you weren’t being surrounded by a group of groping producers or Hollywood execs. Being a part of Cooper’s family, someone he was mentoring, it carried a certain power within the den of vipers. You weren’t untouchable, but you weren’t someone to be so easily ruined. 

You flashed kind smiles and coy waves at the people who called out your name and made your quick escape to the backyard. 

Cooper’s new movie had been released and he was having a sort of celebration party. Though, you think it’s just Barb trying to integrate Vault-Tec into the movie industry. From the disgusted looks on some of your co-star’s faces you could tell it wasn’t going very well. 

You sighed in relief at the fresh air and slowly made your way over to the pool chairs. Your feet ached in your heels and you could already feel blisters starting to form. You undid the straps and slipped them off. You lowered yourself onto the edge of the pool and dipped your toes in, the relief instantaneous.

You weren’t out very long before you heard steps approaching. You let out a deep sigh, mentally preparing yourself for your peace to be ruined by whoever wanted to bother you. “You’re not skipping my party, are you?” 

You opened your eyes to find Cooper smiling down at you. You always wondered how his smiles could be so genuine when he spoke to you. You hadn’t felt like you’d given anyone a real smile in a long time. This industry had taken a lot from you and lately you’d been wondering if it had stolen your happiness too. 

You shrugged, “It was getting a little boring.”

He grinned and slipped his shoes off. You watched him roll his pants up and groan as he dipped his legs in the pool with you. His smile slipped and his eyes widened when his legs landed in the water, “Damn, it’s fucking cold!”

You barked out a laugh, rough and very unladylike while he squirmed like a girl at a little cold water. “Didn’t you fight in a war?” You teased. 

He nudged his shoulder into yours, “Watch it,” you shook your head, dismissing his faux warning. You knew he didn’t really mind when you bugged him. It’s how you two had been acting around each other since day one. Tabloids labeled you two as close as kin, brother and sister. 

As much as it bugged you every time you read a headline like that while standing in line at the grocery store, you supposed it was better than everyone thinking you were some two-timing slut. But it bothered you how much your relationship being labeled siblings in nature irritated you. He had a wife and child, you couldn’t let some pathetic crush cloud your judgment like this. 

It was real hard to remember that, though, when he looked at you the way he did. Sitting by his side, under the moonlight, his eyes warm and earnest as he sent you an easygoing smile. You’ll never figure out if it’s in your head, but you swear he doesn’t smile at anyone the way he does at you. 

You feel like the only woman in the world sitting there with him. Like there wasn’t a party going on a few yards away in his house. And you hadn’t just accepted a martini from his wife who had graciously invited you into their home. It was just you and him. 

You didn’t realize you were leaning in until your lips were brushing his. He should have pulled back. You shouldn’t have leaned in. But his hand was on your waist and the other was buried in your hair, desperately pulling you closer. 

It wasn’t gentle or slow like you’d always imagined it. His mouth was moving hungrily over yours, practically devouring you in his desperation to get as close to you as possible. His hand tugged at the roots of your styled hair, a pained moan slipped through your lips. That wasn’t enough to snap you out of your trance, but his tongue licking into your mouth was. He groaned, tasting and savoring you like you would be his last meal. Like he had wanted you just as much as you had wanted him and he wasn’t going to let this chance slip away. 

You jumped back but he didn’t let you go far with his hands on you. His eyes slowly opened while the reality of the situation dawned on you both. You let out a horrified gasp at the sight of your lipstick smeared over his lips. “Oh, god, Coop.” You whispered, voice strained as you stared at him, “What did we do?”

His eyes darted between yours, the realization coming slower to him. When it did, you could pinpoint the exact moment it hit him. His mouth drew up in disgust and he ripped his hands off you. He leapt up, water splashing your dress as he did, but you were too hurt to really care. He clamped a hand over his mouth, looking very much like he was about to throw up on you. “Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched and eyes squeezing shut. 

You grabbed your bag and shoes and rushed to your feet. You dug around in your purse, hands shaking so much you could barely undo its clasp. When you finally found your handkerchief you dipped it in the pool and held it out to him. 

He glanced towards your outstretched hand and then to your ashamed face in confusion. “You have my lipstick on your lips,” you whispered. He snatched it out of your hand and scrubbed at his face so hard you wouldn’t even be able to make out the lipstick with how red his skin was. 

Slowly, and without a word, you both made your way back into the house. The tension was thick, neither of you able to look at each other. You kept an unusual amount of space between you for two people who were always so close. If anyone looked out the door at you right now, well, even Bud Askins would be able to tell something was wrong. 

You made it to the glass door and Barb intercepted you. Your heart leapt to your throat. You’d never been more disgusted with yourself. Not only did you kiss this woman’s husband, you had fucking enjoyed it. 

In fact, you wished you were out there still. As small a taste you’d gotten of him, you craved more. Your body was on fire with desire, core throbbing when you thought about the way he’d kissed you. You forced yourself to stop imagining what it would be like if he had kissed somewhere else. God, the thought made you burn. 

She laughed and gave you an odd look, “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Cooper chuckled and you whipped your head towards him in shock. Not only did he look completely unaffected, but he was smiling at you. You couldn’t look at him long, afraid your face would further give you away. You were a good actress, but not nearly as good as him. 

“This one almost accidentally took a dip in our pool,” he and Barb both laughed and you forced yourself to join in. 

“Yeah, and I think that might have been enough excitement for me.” You smiled at Barb and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, the taste of her husband still on your lips. “I’m gonna head home. Enjoy the rest of the party.”

Cooper stopped you before you could completely slip away, “I’ll walk you out to your car, honey.” You nodded, not willing to argue in the middle of his crowded home. Still, you didn’t make it easy for him to keep up with you. You were at the door before he could blink, practically flying out of the house. 

You probably would have made it all the way to your car without another word if it weren’t for him clasping a hand around your elbow. “We need to talk.”

You shook your head and he let out a disappointed sigh. You already knew what he was going to say, and you agreed wholeheartedly. What had happened tonight was a mistake. Not only were you risking your career but you could ruin his whole life if you continued down this path. As much as you wanted him, as much as you had yearned for him, you couldn’t be so selfish. 

But you also couldn’t handle hearing him say that to you. It would break your heart to have to listen to him explain all the reasons you could never be with the man you were so desperately in love with. “I know, Coop, I know.” 

His grip tightened on you when you tried to slip away. You set pleading eyes on him, praying he couldn’t see the tears already starting to build. You knew he could, though, when his gaze softened and he eased his grip on you. After another whispered “please” he finally nodded and stepped back from you. 

You slipped your arm from his hold and ran to your car. You leapt inside and peeled out of the driveway like the devil was on your tail. And maybe he was, maybe you deserved it. Because you still couldn’t help yourself, glancing in the rear view mirror to see Cooper standing at the end of his driveway, watching you go with a distraught look on his face. 

You wiped the tears off your face and turned back towards the road. You could never be with him. You could never love him the way you wanted. You’d have to be satisfied for the rest of your life with the taste you’d gotten tonight. That would be all you would ever allow yourself. 

“A fallen star, Cooper Howard has become a reject within Hollywood. Fellow actors and actresses have been refusing to work with him, making it difficult for the former celebrity to find work. Recent reports say he’s been seen at birthday parties more than on set.”

The female reporter shook her head, “Such a shame. We’ve been hearing that this is all due to his former ties with Vault-Tec. Ties which were recently severed in a grisly divorce with ex-wife and Vault-Tec employee, Barb-”

You clicked the TV off, shutting the ridiculous news report up and ran a hand down your face. You hadn’t seen Coop in a few months. After that night at his house, you’d dropped the movies you’d been doing with him and put as much distance between the two of you as you could. 

That thought made you feel like the worst piece of shit. You couldn’t have known that Hollywood was going to turn its back on him. You couldn’t have known that nearly two weeks after you cut ties his entire life would go up in flames. You should have been there for him. How you feel about him shouldn’t matter when your friend needs you. 

He’d given you everything he could and you couldn’t even be there for him when he needed you. Of course, once you’d heard about the divorce, you’d called up Sebastian. But he had warned you not to try and reach out to Cooper. He seemed to think it would only make things worse. The more you heard, however, the more guilty you felt about not being there for him. Tabloids and gossip columns certaintly hadn’t been kind when the news of his divorce had come out. 

They pounced on the opportunity to further rip into his wounds and present them to the world. You glanced down at your couch cushion, the magazine you’d picked up in the store staring back at you. The front was a picture of him walking out of a house, donned in cowboy gear and clearly performing for a children’s party. 

You sighed and decided you should finally push aside your pride. You snatched your keys from the hook and headed out the door. 

Cooper didn’t seem to believe it was you when he opened the door. His eyes, cloudy and red, narrowed before he frowned and took a step back. “That really you?”

You offered a weak smile and a, “Hi, Coop.”

He scoffed and you could tell he was getting angry. His accent always got a little rougher when he was pissed off. “‘Hi, Coop’,” he mocked, a sneer on his face. “Four months without contact and that’s all you have to say. Fuck off,” he went to close the door but you blocked him with your foot. 

It stung, honestly, the cruel way in which he spoke to you. But you knew he could be a lot meaner if he wanted to and it wasn’t as if you didn’t deserve it. You had been a shitty, selfish friend. “I’m sorry, I was just nervous. I just,” you paused, struggling to find the right words to make this any better. He crossed his arms, still refusing to let you into his house. “I called the second I heard, but Sebastian had told me it would be better if I didn’t come.”

His brows furrowed before he glared at you. “So you don’t even fucking call?”

“I was wrong and selfish. Cooper,” you reached out, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, I’m not asking for you to forgive me. I am genuinely so sorry I wasn’t here for you. But I’m here now, if you’ll let me be.”

The next minute was unbearable. You felt too awkward to take your hand off his arm and he refused to speak. He didn’t even blink, just glared at you, the longer the silence went on the more you could feel yourself losing your nerve. Maybe this had been a mistake. 

Finally, he sighed and your heart leapt to your throat. “Come in,” he stepped to the side and opened his door up further. You kept your mouth shut and slipped into the house. It seemed to be the only thing he’d been able to hold onto since the divorce. 

The door slammed shut behind you and he pushed past you to slip into the living room and throw himself down on the couch. You followed slowly behind him, taking oddly tentative steps, like if you made a noise he would kick you out. 

He had his arm thrown over his face, his eyes clenched like he was in pain. You perched yourself on the edge of the chair you usually sat in, feeling oddly uncomfortable. You fidgeted restlessly on the cushion, crossing and uncrossing your legs, tapping your toes against the floor. 

It had seemed like such an easy decision to come here half an hour ago. But you hadn’t had a plan and that was really biting you in the ass now. Desperate for anything other than the sound of the fabric underneath you, you blurted out the question that had bothered you for months. 

“What happened?”

He sighed, like he’d been expecting it. He sat up slowly, grabbing a glass of brown liquor off the coffee table and taking a swig. He leaned forward on his knees, glaring over at you. “What are you talking about? You’re gonna have to be specific, sweetheart, everything in my life has fallen apart.”

You winced, hating the callous way you’d asked the question. You’d meant to approach the subject more gently, but it wasn’t easy to keep your curiosity contained. “Everything, I guess. Last time I saw you, you were on top of the world. What happened?” You tried to ask your questions as gently as possible, but there really was no use sugarcoating anything. 

“Flew too close to the sun and I fell,” he shrugged and sent you a sarcastic smirk. “But I see you’ve been doing great, huh?”

“Not really, I’ve stepped back from taking on any contracts. I would have dropped Nuka-Cola too if their lawyers weren’t so damn good.”

He shrugged, like he didn’t really give a shit about your life or how it was going. This hurt, how he was acting, you’d never seen him like this. He was acting so mean and despondent. “Found out Barb was advocating for nuclear war and Vault-Tec was backing her. Finding out your wife is orchestrating war crimes really puts a wrench in your marriage.”

You wished you could be surprised, but Barb’s odd behavior since joining the company had been obvious to everyone but Cooper. He laughed when he saw the look on your face, “You say ‘I told you so’ and I’ll throw something at you.” You shook your head and sank back in the chair. “Anyway, Vault-Tec dropped me and since everyone in Hollywood hates me that was the last paying job I had. Now, I’m working kid’s parties.” He scoffed and smiled mirthfully, but the hatred in this look was directed at himself. “How the mighty have fallen, right?”

He threw back the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass back on the table. 

“I really am sorry, Coop. I should have been here.”

He didn’t look at you, just shook his head, “No point. If you had been, I would have dragged you down with me. Probably the smartest thing you could have done.” You hated this, it made your heart hurt to see him so down on himself. 

This wasn’t the Cooper you knew. This was a man completely broken by what life had thrown at him. You hated this. You hated yourself for not helping him. Hated his wife for abandoning him. You hated the world for so easily turning their back on him like he was nothing to them. 

You slipped from the chair and kneeled in front of him. You grabbed his hands in yours, holding on tight when he tried to slip away. “I’m sorry, Coop, truly. I wasn’t here for you. But I am now, I swear. Let me help you, please.”

He glanced down at you and stared quietly, trying to decide whether he should be an asshole and tell you to fuck off or just accept the help. He had been lonely for a long while now. He needed someone to tell him he was doing okay. That he had done the right thing in getting Barb out of his life. So, he nodded and squeezed your hands back. 

“Pancakes?”

You laughed and sat up in bed, glancing over at Cooper while he got dressed. “Is that all you know how to make?” He smiled and crawled back onto bed to plant a hard kiss against your lips. 

“You want food or not, smartass?”

You laughed and pressed another quick kiss to his lips, “Please.” He shook his head and walked out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen. You sank back against the pillows and stared blankly up at his ceiling. 

You wished there was a title to describe what you were to each other, but you weren’t completely sure yourself. A few weeks after you’d stopped by his house you’d slept together for the first time. And then again and again, and you’d taken to staying at his house more than your own apartment. 

You’d worried that you were letting yourself be a rebound after his divorce. Afraid that he was simply going to sleep with you and move on once he’d found something better. But he didn’t treat you like you were something to throw away. 

But that doesn’t mean anything when he’s never explicitly stated that he wants something serious with you. You sit up when you hear him padding back down the hall, a tray in his hands. You smile at him and help him settle back in bed. 

When you’re done eating you both lay back in bed and you figure you don’t need something definitive for now. You’ll just enjoy what you have while you have him. The shrill ring of the phone jolts you both out of your comfortable state. 

He sighs and reaches over to grab it from its place on the nightstand. The cord stretches over you while he leans back and talks to whoever is on the other line. “Hello?” His brow furrows in confusion when the other person began to speak. You can make out their muffled voice but not what they’re saying. You give him a questioning look but he just shrugs and hands you the phone. “It’s for you, sweetheart.”

“Hello?” 

Cooper watches you with growing confusion as your face lights up and you shoot out of bed. He sighs, knowing his morning is probably over. He figures he should go ahead and get dressed while you finish up the call. 

When he comes out of the bathroom you’re still talking. Your finger is coiled through the cord and you’re pacing a track into his rug. You’ve got a serious expression on your face, listening intently, before you light up once more and let out an eager, “Oh, thank you so much!” You slam the phone back down on the dial and turn to him with an eager smile. 

“That was Tom, he’s got a role for me.” Cooper shoots you a happy smile but he can’t help the twinge of jealously in his gut. A few weeks ago some pictures of you two together had been leaked. While your career and offered had considerably slowed, you hadn’t been completely stonewalled by all of Hollywood like he had. 

He couldn’t help but resent that at moments, that you still got to live your dream while he was punished for doing what he thought had been right. He wouldn’t let that ruin your mood right now, though. “That’s great, what is it?”

You shrugged, going through the room and quickly changing into a long skirt and blouse. “He couldn’t give me many details over the phone. He wants me to head over to his house to pick up the script real quick.” You ran up to him, planted a quick kiss on his cheek and darted towards the hall. “I’ll be back for lunch,” you called over your shoulder. 

Cooper sighed, overwhelmed slightly by your whirlwind of energy. He called out a quick goodbye he wasn’t sure you heard and tried to ignore the nauseating feeling settling in his stomach. 

You stared up at Tom’s door, knocking quickly. You were the perfect picture of naïveté, wide-eyed and eager as you waited for him to open the door. When Tom wasn’t directing Nuka-Cola ads he directed only serious movies. The type that only critics liked. 

Getting another serious role could really help in getting you back on track. Maybe you could even start helping Coop out, he was going to have to sell the house soon if he didn’t make real money. 

The smile on your lips was hard to dismiss as you impatiently waited for the door to open. It didn’t take much longer, you could hear Tom approaching through it and then it was swinging open. He had a wide smile and seemed oddly breathless as he stared at you. “There you are! Come on in, I’ll grab the script.”

Not thinking much of the odd invitation you took a step inside and glanced around. You heard voices in the next room and your smile dropped just a little. “Come on,” he waved you forward when he noticed you had stopped, “I’ll get you something to drink.”

“Oh,” you took a hesitant step forward. “I’m fine, really, I need to get back home pretty quick.” Tom stopped in his tracks and turned around. The look on his face had your hairs standing on end, both of your smiles completely gone now. 

“I said come in.” You tried to back up but your back hit something soft. Jumping forward, you turned to find one of the tallest men you’d ever seen towering over you. He pushed forward and you stumbled back, starting to feel real panic settle in. 

He kept pushing until you found yourself standing in the middle of a crowded living room. Execs you recognized from meetings with your agent and premieres circled around you like a pack of hyenas. Each of them tittering and laughing, pointing at you with a dangerous gleam in their eyes. 

You felt tears pricking your eyes, your gaze darting up to Tom. But he refused to look at you, accepting a large wad of cash from one man and shaking his hand. He spared you one brief glance, a distant regret in his eyes as he walked out the room. 

You spun in a quick circle, breaths coming short and fast when the men started to close in on you. One of them grabbed you and you threw your elbow back into his face, it didn’t matter. They were all reaching for you now. Hands snagged on your blouse and the buttons popped open. 

You opened your mouth, to scream or bite one of them, you don’t know, it didn’t matter. A large hand clamped around your mouth, forcing you to breathe in the cloth on their palm. You sucked in a sharp breath, something sweet tickling your nose before your eyes were rolling back in your head. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[bitterchocoo]

A funny request that I have in mind

Male Xianyun(genshin impact) reader telling embarrassing stories of the High-Cloud Quintet to Stella/Caelus, March 7th, Dan Heng and Yanqing

High-Cloud Quintet Troubles

M. Reader as Xianyun [Genshin Impact] (Platonic)

----------

I don't know if they could even be called embarrassing. But they're definitely random.

----------

The days in the Loufu were quiet. Everything seems to be peaceful once the whole crisis was resolved. That is.. until Dan Heng meet an "old friend"...

"Baiheng managed to scare Jing Yuan enough with her stories to the point he would bolted right out of bed out of fright. He wasn't able to sleep for days!" He says casually, sipping his tea. March and Caelus burst out laughing as the image of a frighten General comes to mind, the "all mighty" General, shaking like a leaf over some scary story from a Foxian. Their laughter is quite nice on the ear. It's been centuries since [Name] could enjoy moments like this. Oh and the look on the youngsters face is just wonderful. "Um.. [Name].. you don't really have to.." "Oh please, I insist."

Dan Heng shifted his gaze awkwardly amongst the group. Don't get him wrong, a reunion is always nice. But he didn't think it would be like this. Surely the elder would run out of stories, right..?

Oh how wrong he was..

"One time Baiheng was so dizzy from a flight test she fell out of the starskiff the moment it landed!"

"Wait, really?" March asked curiously. The famed starskiff piolet herself, can actually be somewhat clumsy? She thought the Foxian was perfect in all sorts of ways!

"Oh, I almost forgot! Jingliu had once become a walking cooler for everyone, her abnormally cold temperature actually has its use during intense heat."

"She what?!" Yanqing exclaimed. The Grand Swordmaster? Really? Caelus snickers at the mental image, everyone laying on each limp of the cold swordmaster's body just to cool off. What a sight that must be!

"And that one time where Yingxing was sick, Dan Feng nearly overdosed him with medicine. The prescription for short-lived species are different after all, but that somehow flew over his head."

Dan Heng remain silent at the elder's words, averting his eyes as he took a sip of his tea. It seems the High Elder isn't as "precise" as everyone says.

"Speaking of Yingxing, during his process in making weapons, he would craft some questionable items out. It's hard to describe but it's no doubt bizarre. The best way I can describe it is of a child who just discover pottery."

"They're that bad?"

"Bad? They were horrendous!!"

Caelus lets out a laugh at the other mental image, he could imagine what types of "weapons" Yingxing was creating and dubbed it as a prototype. Well at that point, might as well trust the process had become a mantra.

As much as people praise and hold the High Cloud Quintent in such high regards. They doesn't seem all that perfect when [Name]'s the one telling the story. The mighty group sounded more like friends messing around, having fun, and.. creating memories.

[velvetures]

Got Me Snoring pt.2

A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long... I've been doubting doing a part two simply because the first blew up like... crazy... and I'm afraid this one isn't going to measure up to the first. But THANK YOU to everyone for the love on part one... it's wild how much you all liked it. I appreciate all of you thirsty fuckers. Summary: Ghost is set on giving you the same change of perception on reviving head after figuring out just how bad you are at taking care of yourself. T/W: NS/FW 18+ ONLY, cunnilingus, size kink if you squint, spit?, lots of fem! fluids, a little male fluids..., cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and I'm still terrified this is gonna suck.

You woke up with a sore throat.

No doubt or haze in your mind about how it happened or why. And the only thing you could think was the word big…. big… big…

God, Ghost was so fucking huge. You nearly mistook the images in your mind for a dream. One so goddamn filthy you’d not be able to look him in the eyes. Only one of those big hands was sprawled over your belly. Fingers digging possessively into the little bit of pudge under them. Denting your skin and steadily reminding you of the rest of his body melted against the back of yours. You’d not moved an inch all night. Highly unusual on a normal day, but not with your Lieutenant sharing the bed.

Sharing a seat on the plane home wasn’t familiar either.

He felt inhumanly warm with his arm rubbing yours as the jet stream rocked the cabin of the plane. And the looks shared between the others as they watched the pair of you didn’t make your skin feel any cooler. Gaz staring at the spot where Ghost’s thigh rested against yours nearly made your pants singe. You couldn’t believe Ghost was just sitting there with his head leaning back against the wall. Maybe sleeping… he wasn’t really moving much. But you couldn’t tell. Nor possess enough confidence to look up or nudge him and find out.

Your sore throat ached a bit too. Raw, and making your voice scratchy, it’d been hard to give a solid ‘good morning’ without everyone asking if you’d come down with something. Your only thought was how Ghost came down something… and you had swallowed. A thought that felt good to hear in your own head… at least when Captain Price wasn’t looking at you with sharp, observant eyes.

Surprisingly, Ghost wasn’t the one who made you feel anxious. He’d been… different in leading up to the flight home. Having your bag packed before you’d noticed, getting you up before the others…. ‘Answer their questions later, little one.’ he’d whispered, masked mouth heating up your ear as he murmured so closely to it. Thoughtful… you’d decided. Realizing only after he’d solved the problem that waking up in bed with him would’ve caused a stir amongst the boys. He even made you tea… the way you like it; With some thick honey at the bottom. No doubt for your rasping voice.

No. Ghost was different.

No one had the gall to mention the Lieutenant strangely shadowing you though. Like you’d suddenly gained a massive black phantom tagging alone at your heels. On missions he would linger close by without anyone noticing, but that just felt… professional. Watching his wide shoulders slump towards yours while sitting on a shitty, makeshift, bench in a cargo plane? That was a whole different look. Even Price spent a good half hour chewing on an unlit cigar, trying to work out what you two had talked about the night before for Ghost to act like this. It was clear though. None of them suspected anything close to what actually happened.

Sitting next to him felt surreal. Especially when he’d been the one who silently insisted that you sit next to him. Having snatched you by your belt and tugged you onto the bench beside him instead of letting you find somewhere mushed between Gaz and Soap like normal. A low grunt of a sound and a firm nod pointed in your direction once he got a look at you sitting next to him much more shyly than normal.

You could smell his cologne, and memorize the tattoos peeking out close to his wrist. Feel his leg twitch to steady himself in his seat when the plane shook a bit. Even listen to the sound of his steady breathing. A whole new experience you’d not really thought about trying before. You nearly felt like you were learning Ghost all over again. Taking every small movement and reexamining it. Because… you couldn’t deny that he had readjusted his view of you.

A blowjob shouldn’t have felt that… intimate, you thought. Remembering the undeniably filthy things Ghost had said. It should’ve left you fulfilled… but not like you actually were. Some warm, expanding feeling, filling up your chest and making you want to hide your face and giggle. A grade school crush level of nervous energy you’d never felt towards a man before. Yet here you were, sitting there half-dumbstruck, watching your Lieutenant stretch his long legs and sigh softly as the landing gear rolled to a stop on the tarmac.

“Comin’?” He muttered, voice level. Maybe a bit impatient as those dark eyes settled on you.

Normal… you reminded yourself. He wasn’t talking you differently; No need to over analyze everything. Letting him lead was the smartest thing. The only way, really.

“Yeah,” Your voice makes you hesitate to say anything more. “Just got stuck staring…”

Ghost doesn’t show any real reaction. Just nods, and grabs his rucksack off the floor next to him. Wordlessly taking yours along in the same hand, walking off with -essentially- everything you had. Suddenly motivating you to not only move your ass off the plane, but follow his long strides to wherever it was he was possessed to go. And whether or not the others even noticed, you didn’t have the luxury of worrying about.

The Lieutenant had your weapons… and your only clean pair of pants.

You didn’t have to follow him far though. Only walking a few meters past your own quarters and down a hallway. Staring at the wide gap between his shoulder blades and the heavy sway that rocked the belt clipped around his hips.

He had your bag tossed next to his on a desktop inside his room without a single trace of the fact it wasn’t a habit. Sitting down heavily and reaching over stiffly to tug at the laces of his boots. Toeing them off with small squeaks of new leather and sitting them under the desk. Either purposefully staying silent to listen to your brain working, or totally unaware that you were stupidly standing there, watching your Lieutenant do a decidedly human thing with wide eyes.

“Come’ere…”

Ghost took off your boots just as simply as his own. Quiet, leaned over your foot propped up on his thigh and not even mentioning your hand resting on his shoulder to steady yourself. Feeling him tug the blouse out of your pant legs, and gently squeeze at your ankle to hold your foot steady.

You didn’t know how to feel about it.

Mortified… maybe. For the simple fact that you had worn the same socks for two days and his head was too close for comfort. Touching you. At least, touching you in a way that wasn’t meant for sex. It didn’t feel like you were doing enough. Weren’t providing him anything.

Guilty… yes? This wasn’t something normal in any situation. You hated a return. It’s what made you feel like you were causing a problem. Made laying low and staying quiet a habitual behavior. And Ghost being the one bent over and struggling to undo the tight knots in your laces? Nearly unacceptable. He didn’t need to… shouldn’t lower himself like that.

Ghost noticed it and you tried to beat him to the punch.

“You don’t have to-”

“Look like you’re gonna faint.”

That hand squeezing softly on your ankle tightens a little before releasing, gliding up your calf and patting you softly before guiding it off his leg. Those dark eyes look up and down your clothes, over your decidedly nervous expression, and back down to your boots before sitting them right next to his.

“Don’t tell me…” he mutters, leaning back in his chair, hands resting on his hips. “You’re not a fan of receiving… are you?”

~

The next two days, you leaned quickly that what was his, suddenly had made room to account for you as well. Almost instantaneously you’d been accounted for in just about every single way you could think of. You washed laundry… you found it put away in one of his drawers. You ordered food to base… it was in his room, not yours. Tried to get into your old quarters… the key wouldn’t open it anymore.

How he’d managed it, you didn’t even want to know. But, Ghost effortlessly took into account every single thing necessary to move you into his life without even a single question. And managed to do it perfectly. You couldn’t question it either, since he’d accomplished the endless tasks to such a degree of attention that you weren’t sure a man could even reach.

“Um, have you seen my black jeans?” The question felt a bit odd, and so did standing in the doorframe of his bathroom with a towel wrapped around you.

“Top drawer. In the closet, next to my pants.”

You couldn’t quite adjust this easily. Not that it wasn’t what you wanted per se. You’d enjoyed Ghost’s company more than anyone else the past couple days. And while he’d been accommodating, it wasn’t like he was bowing to your feet. He came and go as he wanted and didn’t crowd you like he was clingy either. However he did make you feel uneasy with how little he made a fuss about doing something for you.

You never asked for him to do anything. Yet he managed to do everything you ‘hadn’t gotten around to’. And worst of all, when it was time to sleep, he wouldn’t lay down until you eventually caved in and crawled under the blankets first. Almost like he was letting you get settled exactly how you wanted before even thinking about moving closer. No sex. No outward attempt at it. Not even a subliminal hint that he wanted more of your mouth, or anything else for that matter.

It nearly broke you. Or, better spoken, broke your perception of how you expected him to act. Which, made sense considering Ghost wasn’t anything close to the men you’d been with previously. They were always pushy… and he didn’t even push you to your side of the bed when you unconsciously wormed your way to his side at night. Your exes treated sex like a favor needing to be owed. And Ghost wouldn’t begin to act like he’d ever thought about the possibility despite having fucked your throat like he owned it.

Your jeans were indeed in the drawer next to his. And he did ask you to grab a pair of his as you retrieved yours, adding on that you’d be leaving in fifteen minutes… unless you needed more time to get ready.

You finished up in less than ten.

A bar on a Saturday night was Soap’s idea. Drinks, a few cigars, and the whole task force was his way of ‘team bonding’ and no one had a good enough excuse to deny him. Especially when there was a new mission lingering in the next couple weeks, and Price already had the files on hand. You thought it was a bit cliché. Sitting in a musty bar, listening to Price talk over the music about terrain, entry points, possible back-up, and the preemptive teams he was putting together.

It seemed his mind had been working just as hard as yours over the past days. Only you were preoccupied with Ghost’s hand firmly kneading at your thigh under the table. His thumb working at a sore spot just up and to the right of your knee. Forefinger squeezing to alternate the pressure and resist from making the movements feel too harsh. Looking far too relaxed while scanning a document and flipping through the pages with his free hand.

You’d resisted for hours at this point. Forcing yourself to stay quiet and not say something about it. Reminding yourself he was just doing it because he wanted to. Not because he thought he’d get something out of it. He wasn’t holding out. Every time his skilled fingers found another sore spot that made you twitch, you needed to physically clamp your mouth shut or take a drink so you didn’t tell him to stop.

“Another round?” Gaz held up a few bills in his hand, looking around the table.

When everyone agreed, you lost the willpower to sit still. Straightening up and trying to scoot towards the edge of your seat.

“I’ll go up since you’re paying.” The rush in your voice was lost on everyone. Everyone but the man who suddenly locked down with a vice grip on your leg.

Ghost didn’t even flinch. Still looking at the file in his hand, but that cold grip on you didn’t hesitate. Gluing you to your seat and enhancing the sudden sensation of his fingertips dipping under the ripped material stretching over your thigh. You couldn’t understand it. Dumbly trying a second time to stand up, only for it to earn you a side-eyed glance and a slight pinch to your exposed skin.

“No.” he muttered, chin jutting out in the direction of the man, already heading towards the table after seeing Gaz pull out cash .“The waiter’s comin’.”

And right on cue, a younger guy walked up and began taking orders. Going around the table, and stopping at Ghost was a very familiar kind of apprehension on his face after seeing that black mask stretched over his face. If only he could see under the table at the way your thigh was shaking from the soft touches.

“Nothin’ for us,” Such a cool dismissal of the guy that you hardly even notice what he said. “Price, leavin’ out.” He added, moving his hand to palm the back of your neck easily. Giving the slightest tug to get you up out of your seat as well.

“Little one’s comin’ with me.”

Not a soul at the table questions it.

~

Against the wall yet again.

Not unlike the first time… Ghost has a pattern. You’re breathless, but much more unaware of how this situation is going to play out. He hadn’t said a word in the drive, and kept the tightest sightline out the windshield you couldn’t even see his irises from your profile view in the passenger seat. The second he could spot the door to his room? His big body bullied yours right where he wanted it. Keeping you pacified by a hand over your mouth and dark, plotting eyes glaring down.

“Why’d you do that?” His question further raised the questions in your head. It’s all you can do to shrug, as if you had much autonomy over the rest of your body at this point anyways.

“At the bar,” The clarification deepens his irritated tone. “Why’d you take orders like that, huh? Like some fuckin’ maid.”

“You all wanted drinks.”

Unfortunately it’s not the answer he wanted, and you’re hauled that much further up the wall. Only now, you’re suspended fully off the ground. Balanced on his forearm jammed between your thighs; feeling his palm flat against the wall. God, it felt fucking ridiculous. He shouldn’t been able to do it, but he wasn’t even shaking. Dead calm and just watching you unintentionally grind down more on his arm the longer you’re forced to stay like that.

“I got my own.”

You nearly catch an attitude. Wanting to mention that it’s just ‘polite’. And for that matter, you’d not paired for a single drink all night. So, naturally it was only fair you go get them… You settle on saying something a bit more safe. Maybe more manageable even with how little your mouth wants to function.

“I didn’t pay.”

Ghost just snarls, head tilted and looming closer.

“I don’t fuckin’ care,” His hips flinch forwards, jamming against you to send the point home. And you’re not stupid enough to ignore that he’s hard. The long, thick line of his cock disappearing under the edge of his belt; tucked safely to have been able to escape the bar without anyone throwing looks his way.

“Stop doin’ shit just because.” He growls out a bit more directly. “Do it because you want it.”

His point skims over your understanding. “I do what I want!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” The dismissal is soft enough you know he’s not totally pissed.

“When’s the last time you made yourself feel good, huh?” He pauses, giving you a glimpse of his tongue licking his lips under that mask. “I think I remember you sayin’ you’ve faked it plenty of times… How many times is that? How many times you ignored that pussy cryin’ for attention?”

You get it. Oh, you finally understand… And damn it your face doesn’t burn hot with the realization that he’d caught on to just how bad you were about prioritizing yourself. Not even the dull, thudding pressure of your cunt sitting directly in his muscled forearm is enough to distract you from it. The mind game over, and Ghost holding yet another victory in his hand.

“I.. I don’t know,” You look away, unwilling to admit it. “A few times.”

“Bullshit,” He grunts, jerking his lower body against yours yet again. “You might not know that… but you do know how many men… don’t ya, sweetheart?”

Chest caving in defeat, you answer. “Five.”

Ghost’s chuckle is almost patronizing. A deep, rumbling one low in his chest that makes chills run up your back. Purposefully his wrist rotates a bit and your clit rolls over a thick muscle. You’re helpless to hide the pinched yelp it earns him, and it only makes him chuckle for longer. If you’d been in any other position, it would’ve been music to your ears. Now it just felt… punishing. Arousing beyond belief, yes, but still a bit of a sting to your pride.

“Five boys…” He muses aloud. “Not a fuckin’ one with enough sense to breathe without thinkin’.”

He stills for a moment, eyebrows furrowing over dark brown eyes. A debate in his head.

“Then i’ll teach you…” He nods once. Firm and resolved to the decision. His free hand coming up to trace your jawline with a reverent, almost scared touch. “Now that you’re mine… I’ll teach you how to be selfish.”

“S’not like I don’t know how.” It’s a wonder you’re able to sound that confident between the pressure to your cunt and the way he’s talking to you. Unflinching as always, he just smirks under that mask.

“Gonna show you how easy it is… to take pleasure. How to enjoy it.” Each word falls from his lips like thick honey. Whatever he’s planning so fucking rich in his kind that even his mouth slows and his accent thickens at the mere imagination of it. “You’re gonna learn to be good for me… and M’gonna start with that little pussy…”

One dangerous look down at where your thighs are trying to clench together freezes you.

“Not gonna let her be ignored anymore…”

~

Ghost’s tongue curls through your swollen, sensitive, lips; helping guide himself to your pulsing clit. Humming victoriously when your stomach flexes and your body jerks away from the steady pressure. Each lick is the same. Dragging up your slit and purposely spitting against your hole until you both can feel it dripping between your cheeks. Taking his time like this was almost painful. Feeling the twitch of his jaw against your inner thighs and hearing his thick swallows as he drank down your arousal.

It almost made you feel queasy, being the sole focus of this. Your hands unable to find somewhere to rest. Feet unwilling to settle on his back or off to the sides, like you knew you probably should be. Ghost was so intense that you shook. Muscles tremoring around his head and exciting him that much more. You were still stiff though, and it showed. Much to his excitement, it meant that he’d have that much more time between your legs. More opportunities to take you out of your head and throw you into a totally new one.

“It ain’t my mouth makin’ you shake, little one.” He murmurs, almost like he’s talking to your cunt instead. It’s hard to reply when those dark brown eyes lay locked on you from between your slicked thighs.

“I… I don’t know…”

Ghost just chuckles, kissing your inner thigh. Both hands slipping between your legs and using his thumbs to spread you open for him. Heavy eyes looking at your glistening hole covered in his saliva. Spitting on you yet again, and letting out a deep, satisfied sigh when your breath evaporates from the sheer sight of it.

“M’gonna make you feel everythin’ they couldn’t,” your eyes nearly roll back in your skull when he blows a soft, cool, breath over your hot skin. “You’ll memorize what my tongue feels like in your cunt… never gonna come empty again…”

You clench when those words come out more like a threat than a promise. Having heard that tone so many times sitting in on his interrogations. Always relating it to pure torture and the promise of wishing for death over being rested in Ghost’s hands. Only now it was startling just how badly you wanted to hear him speak like that again. Never having heard anyone sound so fucking serious about sex, or find yourself reacting so desperately. Your eyes scrunching shut and your head falling back against the bed, nearly pained with anticipation and a healthy dose of the most fearful arousal you’d mustered.

“Ghost - please, please… just, god take it easy on me.” Your voice is soft, pleading. Actually a bit timid of how far he planned on taking this. Of course he wouldn’t hurt you. You trusted him that much. But pleasure could be just as effective of torture, and Ghost was well-versed.

Another kiss presses to your thigh, “Nothin’ without your permission,” Those dark eyes gain crinkled lines at the corners though as he smiles. “But you’ll like it, little one. Every disgustin’ thing m’gonna do to make this pussy cream…”

His thumb glides over your outer lips, toying with you. Gentle to avoid sensitive spots and draw this out, but mean enough to remind you just how dedicated he was.

“Yeah, baby… you’re gonna look so good when I lick the fuckin’ come out of you.”

His mouth descends over you without another moment of hesitation. Still slow, but now it’s not just his tongue lapping at you. It’s his lips, rough with a couple days neglected of shaving. His teeth -which make you jump at first- pinching and nipping. But it’s all in the perfect pressure. Somehow fully aware of how sensitive you are right now and that the slightest move could be far too much. Reversing your twitches of apprehension into soft rolls of your hips against his face. Allowing you to guide him without a word. Learning how you want it whether or not you ever realized that it was guiding him better than a map.

You loved the slow, consistent pressure around your clit. Not rubbing right over it like he was sure you’d been subjected to before. No… you needed it softer. Sweeter. Just how a pretty girl like you deserved. Circles with a flattened tongue and his fingers working inside you. Even then, you got so fucking tight when he didn’t pull his fingers out all the way. Instead letting you milk them as the pads of his fingers curled against that textured, upper wall needing attention.

God, it was so easy. You had such beautifully clear reactions. What felt good, you’d nearly hold still for. As if you’d never felt it before and couldn’t withhold from the desperate curiosity. And when it didn’t, such polite grinds and roll of your hips would be almost too helpful in moving the bridge of his nose or his tongue to where you wanted it.

Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he ate pussy with such rapt attention. Enjoy it had always been easy. The taste, the sounds, feeling in control… any man in his right mind would relish in it. But you? You made his hard cock brushing up against the mattress fall to a true afterthought. He didn’t even care that there was enough precum drooling from his tip to soak through denim jeans.

Your first orgasm is a beautiful accident. Ghost’s body isn’t even what earns it. It’s his fucking mouth saying the nastiest things imaginable with a busy tongue stroking your clit. Rambling low and sluggishly, a thick lisp when his bottom lip tries to slide across your pussy on the right syllables.

Good job, tha’s it… s’good for me.

Keep fuckin’ drippin’ like that.

Stay right there -just like that- let me lick her clean baby…

You come quick and hard. Not even getting to relish in the feeling of release that wasn’t by your own hand before Ghost is working for another. It’s the most impatient habit he’s got and won’t deviate. Using the clench of your pussy around him to advantage by working you open all over again. Purposefully providing that “first touch” stretch throughout orgasms like a reset. Short term memory erasure of all his hard work just to massage at your shaking legs as gentle reassurance.

“Don’t — Don’t stop.” Your panting. Wanting to warn him as the second approaches a bit slower.

You’re still nervous to perform, but the edge is off. Having been given just enough reassurance that you can, in fact, come from someone else’s touch. But the slight tremor in your voice hints at the hesitation you have to come again.

Enough time elapsed to overthink what you sound like. How you appear from this angle and anything in between that has been a problem before now. Ghost doesn’t move an inch. The only thing he does is take a steady deep breath and move one arm to rest his forearm on the bed. Like he’s settling in.

Getting fucking comfortable.

And he stays just like that until you’re shoving yourself up the bed and away from his chasing mouth to try and take at least one complete breath. Your feet sliding in the sheets and the hair on the back of your neck getting cold once it’s not matted to the pillow. Previous experience anticipates that it’s the end. That Ghost isn’t going to follow. That he’ll take the credit for making you come twice, and enjoy a fluttering, wet cunt around his cock.

His face is next to yours and his swollen lips are kissing your temple over and over sweetly. One hand keeps his heavy weight off of you while the other gently reaches to your neck. Holding your head to ease the acute angle of it and shyly feel your pulse. You’re too dazed to see the look on his face. How relaxed he is, counting your heart beats and watching sweat slide across your temple and get caught in the baby hairs there. Observant, but utterly obsessed by this moment. Drinking in self-satisfaction and the much more addictive taste of seeing you fall apart under him.

“I got you. I’m here, breathe baby.” Keeping his chest close, he exaggerates his own. Pressing against you, grounding the feeling.

“It’s so much.” Admitting it makes you feel awful. Like you’re not enjoying it more than anything you’ve felt before. But you’re unable to explain just how raw your nerves feel. Terrified that if he touches your clit again it would bring real tears to your eyes.

Ghost moves closer, sharing body heat you didn’t know you even wanted. “I know, little one… you’re so sensitive. S’okay.” He answers, gently reaching down to pull both your thighs together and against him.

Curling you to his body and holding your legs to help ease the radiating pleasure signals thrumming in your pussy. His hand rubbing your outer thigh, squeezing at the stretched muscles in your hip. Dissipating the tightly-wound lower half of your body that is still expecting his fingers to touch you again. Split between wishing he would force another orgasm out of you and nearly passing out from overstimulation.

Ghost knows better though. You’d gone too long without someone else controlling your pleasure that it was going to be hard enough. And a second only compounded your body’s response. In the moment he felt possessed to prove a point. Really, the same one you had for him. But the moment you scurried back, that part of his brain turned off. Keeping you safe in this state was just as important as anything else. He didn’t want you faking anything again. That included when you felt like you couldn’t take more.

“We’re done, baby…” he kisses your cheek, tasting the sting of salt on his lips. “No more; jus’ easy touches… M’not gonna play anymore.”

It works wonders, simply taking the guesswork out of this. Allowing your legs to fully sag against him, trusting those fingers grazing up and down. Even your head letting go of the remaining tension holding you off the pillow. Ghost can’t help but smile. Kissing you yet again. And again. Helping himself to the sounds of your breaths evening out and the softness of your dewy skin on his mouth.

His hot body sticks to yours a bit, but it’s comfortable. Helps you feel secure, laying there balled up and trying to work through the multiple sensations still making it nearly impossible to open you eyes and look at him. Desiring to say a simple ‘thank you’ or at least, give him a smile just to show that you’re appreciative. Another one of those nasty little things you’re convinced is necessary right after the deed. Poised to give positive reinforcement at the first moment so the guy won’t run off.

“Th-thank you,” The way you say it almost sounds guilty to Ghost. Even the hand rubbing you doubles down, more firmly. Like he’s hoping to keep his own emotions in check by reminding himself of how skewed your perceptions are.

“S’not a ‘thank you’,” He replies, lips against your ear, feeling the easy, toothless, smile he’s got. “Told you the other day… I wanted it. Wanted you.”

Your eyes do open then. Hearing him refer back to the mission. Like he’s not the least bit affected by it in an embarrassed kind of way. Adding that much more reinforcement to the nearly unbelievable idea that he’s actually meant it and not just so he could get a bit closer to you. Surely he couldn’t, right?

“You mean that?”

Ghost’s eyes brighten, and he chuckles very deeply. Bumping his forehead against yours.

“You and your sweet pussy aren’t going anywhere.”

requests are thanks to: bvxygriimes bobochacha kmcmpmd simonsslvt verynastyspoon featherbrainedangel flower-olive riri-is-a-girlie bii-aan-ckaa mxshpitmom stormy-knight134 glocuseguardian3rd variety-fangirl and about eight anons that I can't tag unfortunately :(

you're all so lovely and I want to give you each a big smooch

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

my ask box is always open, but fair warning I'm slow haha

[tenelkadjowrites]

Wallflower - Part Two - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART ONE HERE. PART THREE HERE.

🌻 Summary: The events of Sunday morning won’t leave your mind, and you are determined to figure out if every aspect of the rumor about your nerdy coworker, Seonghwa, is true.

🌻 Word count: 11.5k

🌻 Genre & warnings: nerdy seonghwa with coworker reader. fem pronouns for reader. dirty talk. fingering. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie. 

🌻 Tags are now moved to the bottom of the fic.

this fic is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               You have a problem and it is one of your own making. In fact, it could even be considered two separate problems that are colliding.

               Problem one? You have no friends. After spending years striving to climb the corporate ladder in your quest for money and job security, all your real friendships fell apart and faded away. That meant that every one of your ‘friends’ were actually coworkers. The unhappier you got at your job, the more distant you felt from them, leaving you increasingly isolated.

               Problem two? You fucked around with a coworker. Most people would agree that to fuck a coworker, especially in an office setting, is a bad idea. Sure, it hadn’t turned into full on sex but you believed a general consensus of the situation would be that having your coworker eat you out to orgasm twice could be a short term pleasure without thinking of the long term ramifications.

               The way these problems collided was in the fact that you couldn’t talk to anyone about Seonghwa because you had no friends who aren’t directly tied to work.

               This meant that, while pressing the button in the elevator on Monday morning, you are left to the spiraling thoughts in your head without anyone’s help or advice.

               As the doors open and you step onto the floor, you immediately scan the area for Seonghwa. But you don’t spot him. All that you see is the usual Monday morning bullshit – people cramming donuts in their mouth, the scent of that cheap break room coffee, the typing of many keyboards, people gossiping by the water cooler about the party on Saturday, and the sound of various boring and tedious phone calls.

               The dread that blooms in your chest is enough to knock you off balance. Fuck, when did I start hating this place so much? It isn’t as if working here ever gave you a ton of joy. Office work was often tedious, dry and dull. But the money was supposed to wipe that all away. So…why wasn’t it?

               You throw your bag down at your desk, sitting down and staring at your reflection in the computer screen for a few seconds before turning it on. As it boots up, you roll your chair back a little and glance over at Seonghwa’s cubicle. It is empty but his bag is there, making your heart skip a beat. Turning your attention back to your computer, you open up your e-mail, dreading everything that might have come in over the weekend.

               You had been steadfastly trying not to think of Seonghwa since he dropped you off yesterday. That proved to be difficult. Actually, impossible. You couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt when he kissed you or how he looked when his tongue was working your clit.  It’s been difficult merging the images of Seonghwa in the past as just your nerdy coworker with what happened last night.

               “Good morning,” comes the very voice you are thinking about.

               You flinch in surprise, looking over your shoulder to see Seonghwa standing there. He wears a pale blue button up, neatly tucked into the top of his khaki slacks. A black belt loops around his waist. He looks the exact same as he does every single day but this time…

               “Hey,” You reply, spinning in your chair to face him.

               We’ll see about that, baby is what Seonghwa had said when his fingers were buried in your cunt. The words bounce around in your brain as your gaze flicks to his hands quickly before back at his face.

               He looks a little shy but stares at you resolutely through his oversized glasses. “Your car is still at the bar, right? Do you want me to take you there after work so you can get it? I drove today just in case…”

               “Yes, please,” You reply, relieved, “I had to Uber this morning and the driver was one of those guys who wear like…the driver gloves. You know what I mean? Like, you’re not Ryan Gosling and I’m in a Tesla. Anyway, it was intense and uncomfortable and I was not looking forward to another ride after work.”

               He laughs. You’ve seen Seonghwa laugh before and it’s always fascinated you how it looks like he’s in mild pain when doing so. Now, it is kinda endearing.

               “I’m leaving on time today because I spent all of yesterday here and I could really do with some sleep.”

               “I’m leaving on time today because I just don’t want to be here,” You reply without thinking.

               Seonghwa laughs again but his gaze lingers on you a beat too long which makes your insides swirl. You suddenly are thinking about his tongue against your clit again. His mind must be traveling along the same thinking because he suddenly glances away, looking shy.

               “Uhm, so you were here for a long time yesterday?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation as normal as possible.

               “Yeah, the entire day and most of the night. I got home around one.”

               You shudder. The idea of spending that long in the office is nightmare fuel.

               Seonghwa continues, “But we got what we needed finished. See?”

               He is pointing to your computer screen. Your e-mail has finished loading (another shudder) but you aren’t sure what you’re looking at.

               “What?” You finally ask.

               “Oh, the update notif, see? Here, I’ll show you.”

               Seonghwa walks into the cubicle, leaning down to grab the mouse. He is very close to you although he’s busy clicking stuff on the computer. To be honest, you aren’t paying attention to whatever he’s doing. You’re thrown off by how it feels to be this close to Seonghwa, recalling how good he was at kissing.

               “There. It takes about ten minutes or so though,” He looks as if he is going to say more but that’s when he turns his face in your direction and suddenly looks nervous, trailing off.

               The two of you are extremely close. In fact, it’s so close that you could kiss Seonghwa easily. His lips are inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of his body and for one wild moment you just want to press your hands against his chest, pin him against the cubicle wall and kiss him until you are delirious.

               There is a touch of pink along his cheeks. You know what he is thinking about because you are too. You open your mouth to say…honestly, you aren’t sure but a sudden clatter makes Seonghwa leap away from you as if you have turned into a cold fish.

               “Oh, good, you’re here…uh with…Seonghwa?”

               It’s your gossipy coworker, her head cocked to one side, staring at Seonghwa and then at you.

               Seonghwa runs his fingers through his hair and says quickly, “Good morning! I was just pushing the software update through on her computer! Do you need any help with yours?”

               Your coworker drawls, “No, I think I can figure out how to press ‘update’, thanks.”

               Her tone is so dismissive that you feel irked. Seonghwa nods, quickly saying bye and scurries out of the cubicle, leaving you alone with your coworker.

               “Just wanted to see if you made it back to your place in one piece.”

               You could’ve texted, you think in a slightly bitter way but just go, “Yup, I did. Had a bit of a headache but nothing too bad.” Oh and the nerd you just quickly dismissed made me cum twice with just his fingers and tongue but I’m not about to tell you that.

               “You were so wasted, oh my god. Never seen you get that fucked up at a function before. But don’t worry, you were a pretty boring drunk and there’s nothing being said about you. Apparently, this guy in accounting got super trashed and barfed all over the bar countertop after I left so that’s what everyone is talking about this morning.”

               You feel weary. You dislike how confined the office feels, hate being smushed into your cubicle, tired of listening to the same gossip every week. You’re chafing at the repetition. You’re just happy that the rumor about Seonghwa is becoming old news because you aren’t sure about your ability to keep a poker face if it comes up.

               You’re waiting for your coworker to mention her comment about you being weird lately. But she keeps talking about the guy throwing up and you realize she doesn’t think you remember it. You could bring it up yourself but can’t muster the energy. She isn’t wrong, after all, but you don’t want to talk to her about how you’ve been so unhappy at work lately.

               “Oh, your computer update is done,” She finally stops talking, pointing to your screen, “Alright, I guess I should go. You coming out for coffee later?”

               “Uh, yeah, I’ll be there.”

               She walks off with a small wave, leaving you alone at your computer. Lost in thought, you think back to something Seonghwa said in the earlier conversation. I drove today just in case. He did that so he could take you to your car. The thoughtfulness touches you, makes your stomach feel weird in a way you can’t explain.

               Trying to wipe Seonghwa from your mind, you steel yourself to begin working through the emails with a small sigh.

*

               Running late to meet with Seonghwa, you hurriedly press the elevator button. A call had gone over the allotted time, leaving you scrambling to get out of the office before something else kept you. Sir Dipshit was just exiting his office as you scurried away. Now, you just need the fucking doors to close before you get stuck with him…

               Luckily, they glide shut just as he rounds the corner. Exhaling slowly, you rub your forehead. You’ve been nursing a headache since early afternoon. All you want to do is get the hell out of this building so your skin can stop crawling.

               A few minutes later, you are out in the parking lot. Seonghwa is waiting by his shit heap of a car, typing on his phone and doesn’t see you. Your heart skips a beat when you see him which you steadfastly ignore. We’re just friends, you scold yourself.

               “Hey,” You say and he looks up, smiling. “Sorry I was late. I got stuck on a call.”

               “It’s no problem,” He replies as the two of you get inside his car.

               After snapping in your seatbelt, you watch as Seonghwa curls his hands around the steering wheel. Your thighs clench at the sight and you wish that it could be possible to wrangle yourself under control. But you want him so badly that all you can think about is if he is going to kiss you or touch you or –

               “How was your day?” He asks casually, clearly oblivious to what is on your mind.

               “Fine,” You mumble, not wanting to say more in case you start complaining about how much you’ve hated work lately.

               As the car comes to a halt at a red light, he looks over at you. “How long have you been working here? I know you were already working here when I started two years ago.”

               “Six years or so.” Wow, has it really been that long?

               “When did you start experiencing burn out?”

               “What?”

               Seonghwa blinks behind his large glasses. “Your…work burnout. Sorry, am I overstepping?”

               “N-no, I just…haven’t thought of it like that before. I mean burn out from what? Having a steady, good paying job? I’m just in a rut.”

               “Alright,” You get the feeling he wants to say more but he is holding back, “When did the rut begin?”

               The light turns green and Seonghwa turns his attention back to the road as you reply, “Maybe…a year or so ago. It just keeps growing though. And I don’t know how to get out of it. I worked really hard to get to this spot and I still have more of the corporate ladder to climb so I’m annoyed with myself for feeling so disengaged. I hate going. I hate being there. I hate walking into that lobby and I hate how slow the elevator is. I hate how cramped the cubicles are cuz the company is too cheap to get a bigger building. I hate how disorganized everything is and I hate how everything, every single day, is the same. I hate that I have hours of nothing to do and I have to pretend to look busy. I hate how much Sir Dipshit talks and the stupid work events we need to attend or we won’t hear the end of it. I hate how when I am not at work, I spend every moment dreading going to work. And I hate how pointless it all feels.”

               You blink, realizing that you’ve gone on a gigantic rant while Seonghwa drives. But you’ve never actually stated these things aloud to anyone before and the words hang heavy in the car.

               “Can I be honest?” He says after a moment.

               “Uh, yeah, sure.”

               “That doesn’t really sound like a rut. It sounds like burnout combined with maybe just straight up hating your job.”

               “I don’t hate it,” You say weakly, knowing how absurd that sounds.

               Seonghwa shoots you a glance out of the corner of his eye. “I think you used the word ‘hate’ numerous times in that speech.”

               “Right but…you don’t feel that way about your job?”

               “No. I mean, some days sure, I don’t want to go in. That’s normal. No different than being a kid and not wanting to go to school. But I go, and when I leave, it’s just out of my mind. I focus on other things that give me joy. What do you do to relax from work?”

               The question is such a normal one that you’re horrified when nothing comes to mind. “I…watch TV.”

               “What are your hobbies?”

               “I like to read…although I haven’t really read a book in awhile.” Wow, your answers are dismal. “I just never have the energy for anything.”

               “It’s hard to make time when we work so much. But it’s still important to do stuff that has nothing to do with work. We don’t just exist to be at our jobs. We need to do other things too. Things we find enjoyable.”

               Well, I was enjoying myself yesterday, you think but stop yourself from saying. You get the feeling Seonghwa isn’t talking about sex being the only outlet from work.

               He makes a right turn and the bar comes into view. You can see your car parked and tell Seonghwa that it is yours. He parks next to it, shifting his body to look at you. He looks serious.

               “Maybe this job worked for you years ago. But it’s okay if it doesn’t fit the current you.”

               At this, you protest, “Wrong. I worked way too hard for this job. I dragged my ass through the dullest business courses at school and landed an annoying internship right out of college. This is what I’ve been working for.”

               “Okay, you’ve been working towards it but is it what you want?”

               You are starting to feel disgruntled and aren’t sure why. “What do you mean?”

               “A lot of the times, we just go after something because we are told we’re supposed to want it either by parents, or society or whoever. But in quiet moments, we should think about what we want. If this job no longer aligns with what you want, then there is no harm in looking for new work.”

               “No way,” You scoff, “I’ve worked too hard for this.”

               “Alright,” Seonghwa relents, “I don’t mean to be pushy but I had a friend deal with a job he hated and it sucked the soul right out of him. I just wouldn’t want that to happen with you.”

               Curiously, you ask, “What happened with your friend?”

               “Wooyoung worked in the same line as me, just at another company. Eventually, he hated it so much that he quit on the spot with no work lined up. He didn’t know what he wanted, just that he couldn’t stand working in a cubicle anymore.”

               “And now?”

               “Runs a little tarot shop in the historic district.”

               “Wow, that’s a big change.”

               “He always dabbled in that stuff for fun but he said he got…some dream or something one night about running a shop like that. Saw himself happy with a blossoming clientele in some city where he was working alongside our mutual friend San. It was enough to prompt him to make some changes. Gave him some clarity.”

               You chew on this for a moment. But when you think of the future, all you see is your cubicle. Making any sort of drastic change like that seems impossible. Besides, like you said to Seonghwa, you worked so hard for this. Why ruin it just because you don’t like it? Almost everyone hates their job now. It’s completely normal to hate your job, right?

               “Well, thanks for dropping me off. I appreciate it.” You are anxious to get away from Seonghwa if only because it feels as if he really sees you which is gratifying but also unnerving at the same time.

               “One more thing,” He says quickly, “Uhm, well. I was wondering if you’d like to come to the movies with me tomorrow night.”

               Your hand had been on the door handle but now you look over your shoulder at him. In the setting sun, the orange hue reflects on his blonde hair at a slant, making it look golden. There is something so soft and inviting about Seonghwa, something you didn’t notice about him until you actually spoke to him because of the rumor.

               “What movie?”

               “Well, this week the theatre in old town is showing the Star Wars movies and tomorrow night is The Empire Strikes Back. I’m too tired to go tonight for A New Hope but if you’d like to come with me tomorrow…”

               You think you saw the movie randomly a long time ago because a vague memory of a ship flying around an asteroid field comes to mind. If it were anyone else but Seonghwa, the refusal would come quickly and easily. But…

               “Sure. What time?”

               “Be there around 7:30. I’ll wait out front for you,” He looks relieved as if he was expecting a rejection, “Do you have my number? I know we’re supposed to have everyone’s numbers because we’re on the same team but I wasn’t sure…”

               You scroll through your phone, surprised to realize that you do in fact have Seonghwa’s number. To your chagrin, you had put the nerd emoji after his name.

               “Oh, I do have it.”

               “Okay. I have yours so just text me if anything comes up and you can’t make it.”

               “Alright,” You push open the door, stopping briefly to look one last time at him, “Thanks again.”

               You take note of the fact Seonghwa makes sure you get in the car, that it turns on okay, and you drive out of the parking lot before he pulls out of the space.

*

               This isn’t a date. You’re just going to see some Star Wars movie with the nerdy guy from your office. Who is your friend. Who gave you two amazing orgasms but has not indicated that he would like to continue anything further.

               You’re parked in front of the theatre, hands gripping the steering wheel, mentally bolstering yourself for the night ahead. You have successfully managed to overthink the entire Seonghwa situation, including the fact that since the events the other night, there has been no forward motion on anything else.

               Maybe he didn’t have fun, you think, turning off the car and getting out. I mean, you’re just assuming he did and that it would lead to more but you haven’t exactly asked him and he hasn’t said anything about enjoying it. Wow, I really need friends. I wonder if Seonghwa has mentioned me to his fellow group of nerds or if he’s too shy. Or maybe he hasn’t mentioned me because what happened before isn’t that rare of an occurrence and I am just assuming it is because he’s a nerd. Maybe in reality he sleeps around a lot. I mean, he’s handsome. I mean that in a handsome but not in my type of handsome sort of way. You know –

               “Oh, hey, you’re here,” Seonghwa says, relieving you of your exhausting and never ending mental monologue.

               “Worried I would change my mind?”

               “Maybe just a little,” He replies bashfully.

               Seonghwa is wearing slacks and a black sweater which hangs off his slender frame. He looks comfortable and warm. You’re glad that you didn’t dress up because as far as you know, this is just a casual night out with a friend and nothing more.

               “Well, I’m here,” You gesture to yourself.

               Seonghwa pushes up on his glasses and smiles. Together, you walk into the theatre which is pretty quiet. It didn’t appear as if people were storming the building to watch The Empire Strikes Back. This is confirmed when you go into the theatre itself and only a handful of people are inside.

               Taking your seats, the movie starts soon after. Seonghwa seems to be engrossed immediately, his eyes staring at the screen with rapt attention. You wonder how many times he’s seen this film. His hand is resting on his knee and you are fighting the urge to reach for him. But something stops you – maybe it is that Seonghwa is glued to the movie, maybe it is because you just aren’t sure if that would be making things too date like, or perhaps it is because secretly you’re afraid of his rejection. Regardless of the reason, you keep your hands to yourself.

               At some point in the film, you lean over to ask a question and Seonghwa tilts his head in your direction. “Where’s that blue guy?”

               “What?” Seonghwa sounds baffled.

               “The blue guy with the red eyes. He was on the cover of your book,” You whisper.

               The corners of his mouth quirk up as he fends off a smile. He turns to look at you. One side of his face is doused in the colours of the cloud city on the movie screen, making his hair glow.

               “He’s not in the movies,” Seonghwa whispered back.

               You make a noise of understanding and mild confusion. But he is still staring at you in a way that is making your insides turn. For a split second, you think that Seonghwa is going to lean forward and kiss you. It hits you with a heavy intensity that you desperately want him to kiss you. No, not just kiss you. You want his hands back on you. You want him naked against you and you want him inside you.

               Seonghwa turns back to the screen then, leaving you with a fast beating heart and a swooping feeling in your stomach that you can’t believe is connected to the nerdy guy watching Star Wars with you.

*

               “It’s Thrawn,” Seonghwa says afterwards as you exit the theatre together.

               “What?”

               “The guy on my book cover. It’s Thrawn. In the 90s, he started out as the main villain in a trilogy of books set after the original trilogy of movies. That kinda started the entire expanded universe of Star Wars lore. Later on, it got retconned in the buyout of 2012 but they put him back in the canon later on cuz he’s such a fan favourite,” Seonghwa explains as you shiver in the colder night air.

               “That explains why that book looked so well worn,” You muse.

               He looks sheepish. “Yeah, I’ve read that trilogy a lot. I know it’s not canon anymore but…well, I’ve read it so much now that it’s comforting. I like to go back to it every few years. But there’s new canon books about him too that I’ve read.”

               “I miss feeling that way about books,” You mumble, “Like finding them comforting, reading a book for an entire afternoon or something and doing nothing else.”

               “You should pick up an older book like that. One you used to like. Maybe that would help you to relax and not think about work.”

               “Maybe,” You pause for a moment before going, “I don’t think about work when I’m with you though.”

               Surprise flickers across Seonghwa’s face and then he looks down at his feet for a second. You feel embarrassed at your admission, wondering if it is going to make him uncomfortable. You had already drunkenly told him that you felt safe around him even though you only got to truly know him in the past week.

               Although you want to be quiet, your mouth seems to have other plans. “I feel disconnected with everyone else at work. I don’t know if it’s just because how I feel about the job in general or what. But I don’t think I can talk to them like I talk to you. I know that sounds silly because we only just started talking but…” You trail off, unsure how to finish.

               Seonghwa takes a step towards you and the space in between your bodies close. You shiver again as the wind kicks up. Tentatively, he reaches out with his hands and brushes his fingers along your arms. Goosebumps break out across your skin.

               “Are you cold? I might have an extra hoodie in my car.”

               “I’ll be okay,” You say, your breath catching at the touch.

               His hands linger there for a moment before Seonghwa pulls away, looking unsure. He looks as if he has something he wants to say but isn’t sure how to word it.

               “Thanks for inviting me,” You say, trying to turn the conversation away from your admission, “Star Wars isn’t really my thing but I still had fun.”

               “I did too.” His nerves radiate off him, an energy that is brimming just underneath the surface.

               But Seonghwa doesn’t kiss you nor make any sort of move and you’re too in your head to do anything about it. You take a step backwards, giving him a small wave.

               “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

                “Right, yeah, tomorrow. Uhm…” He swallows, “Text me when you get home so I know you’re alright.”

                 The words threaten to make your cheeks warm but luckily it is too dark for Seonghwa to see. “Okay.”

                 He nods and you turn around, walking to your car. You can feel his eyes on your back. You’re struggling with the random assortment of emotions bouncing around in your brain. It’s confusing to want Seonghwa this much even though you don’t understand what draws you to him. You want him to make a move but he doesn’t seem like the type to do so because he’s so shy or he’s lost interest in you physically. All you know is what started out as curiosity over a rumor seems to be shifting into just simply wanting him.

*

               “What’s up with you talking to Seonghwa so much? You still thinking about that rumor?”

               You’re at the coffee shop with your coworkers for lunch hour. After suffering through a long meeting this morning with Sir Dipshit, time is crawling along. You’re missing the times when your coffee break used to perk you up. Now, nothing seems to soften the blow of the long days.

               Your coworkers are all staring at you like you’re a fish in an aquarium. You shift awkwardly in your chair. “Yeah, I was thinking about it when I first approached him. But not so much anymore.”

               “Yeah cuz like I said he’s boring,” Your gossipy coworker interjects, “I talked to him at the work party thinking maybe there was something I’m missing about him but there obviously isn’t. He was talking about some…video game called Animal Crossing. I think that regional manager was lying about how good he is in bed cuz she can’t believe she slept with him.”

               You want to defend Seonghwa but you also don’t feel like talking about him eating your pussy out like a pro. The thing between you and Seonghwa feels private, something that doesn’t belong to work – the only thing currently in your life that doesn’t feel tied to work which is funny given the fact the two of you are coworkers.

               On top of that, you aren’t even sure of your own feelings for Seonghwa. What started out as curiosity shifted to straight up desire and now it’s shifting yet again. You’d rather fake your own death and flee the country than invite any discussion of that with your coworkers.

               “He’s cute if you can look past his gigantic glasses,” Another coworker chimes in, “But I’m not dating a guy into Legos.”

               “Wasn’t your ex one of those guys who painted his face before a sports game?” You say in a pointed tone.

               “Uh…yeah?”

               “Some people might argue that is more of a turn off than Legos.”

               This flusters your coworker and also signals a shift away from Seonghwa into shit talking the mentioned ex. You lean back in the chair, the conversation sliding through your head like water. You’re thinking about Seonghwa’s friend and how he started his own store. But I have no experience in that. And what type of store would I even run? You drum your fingers against the table, mentally scolding yourself for even thinking such a thing. You didn’t work this hard or for this long just to leave your cushy job cause it’s boring.

               Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it will eventually click.

*

               Later that evening, you’re staring at the TV but not really thinking about the show. You have wandered to the existential dread you’ve been experiencing every night before going to bed because of work looming the next day. On top of that, your mind flickers to Seonghwa as you sort through your attraction and how much you like spending time with him. There is something quiet about him, a stillness in his centre of someone completely at ease with himself, his hobbies and his job – all things currently that you do not possess.

               You’ve been steadfastly trying not to think about the morning he went down on you but you’re losing the battle tonight. Laying among the pillows on your bed, you are picturing the way his tongue looked against your clit, the sensation of his fingers in you and how his voice sounded while talking dirty.

               You’re wet now and fighting the urge not to throw caution to the wind and ask if Seonghwa wanted to fuck. We had an entire discussion about the rumor. Would he be so surprised if I brought it up again? But you’re still unsure if he has changed his mind since –

               Your phone buzzes and to your surprise, Seonghwa’s name appears alongside a text. You feel caught as if he somehow knew you were thinking about him and unlock your phone to read the message.

               “Are you busy?”

               “No,” You type back, “Just watching TV. Is something wrong?”

               The three dots pop up and disappear multiple times. You’re on edge now, wondering what in the world Seonghwa could be struggling with that takes so long to send.

               After a minute, his reply finally pops up. “I’m sorry if I am out of bounds but there’s just something on my mind.”

               You sit up straighter, eyes glued to your phone as the dance of the three dots continues. You wish he would type faster but he keeps stopping and restarting. You wonder if the stuff your annoying coworkers at lunch has somehow gotten back to him and he’s mad at you not defending his pussy eating skills or something. You immediately feel silly for thinking such a thing as Seonghwa doesn’t give off any energy that he’s the sort of person who would want you defending his sexual prowess.

               Finally, Seonghwa’s message appears. “I was just wondering if you’re still interested in the rumor about me.”

               You stare at the words in surprise.

               Seonghwa immediately starts typing when you don’t reply after five seconds, sending multiple messages in rapid fire succession until it fills your screen. “I completely understand if you’ve changed your mind after what went on between us on Sunday morning. If it wasn’t pleasurable for you or if just simply hanging out around me made you lose interest in doing anything else. I know we are friends even if we decide not to bring anything else physical into it. I’ve just spent the last few days overthinking it because we’ve been alone a couple of times since then and nothing has happened. I know I’m not very good at making the first move because I grow nervous and I get in my head a lot. And frankly, my friends are sick of hearing me drone on about it and Hongjoong told me just to call and ask. But calling is giving me a lot of anxiety so I’ve settled for texting. But now that I’ve started this conversation via text I am worried that it is coming across as deeply impersonal for a matter like sex. Should I call? Would it be weird to call about this? Would it make you more uncomfortable to talk about it on the phone or through texts? Wow, sorry, I’ve really typed a lot. I’ve mentioned before I can talk a lot. Type a lot? I’m done now, sorry.”

               You stare at the message, feeling both relief that you have both been overthinking and a certain giddiness at the fact Seonghwa is bringing this up.

               But you don’t want to add to his anxiety so you try to type as quickly as possible. “I’m still interested in the rumor. I just wasn’t sure if maybe what happened on Sunday had you change your mind or maybe it wasn’t as enjoyable for you as it was for me.”

               Seonghwa’s reply is hurried and you can feel the slightly panicked energy on the other side. “It was enjoyable for me! Like I said, I’m not good with making any first moves. Someone either has to be blunt with me or it has to be so extremely obvious of their interest or I end up second guessing myself. On Sunday, you were so honest about…everything that it was hard to misunderstand things. But since then, I thought maybe you just simply changed your mind.”

               You chew on your bottom lip, zoning in on the phrase about being blunt. Throwing caution to the wind, you type out, “Would you like to stay over Friday night?”

               Immediately, the response appears.

               “Yes, I’d like that.”

*

               You exhale slowly, running your fingers over your skirt. Seonghwa is due to show up any minute now and you can’t help the butterflies in your stomach.

               The rest of the week hadn’t been awkward, exactly, but all your small interactions with Seonghwa felt emotionally charged. Both of you knew what was going to happen come Friday night and you thought the whole office must have sensed it. It was in every lingering gaze Seonghwa sent your way, in the manner that you would walk past his cubicle just to see him, and how he would make you a cup of coffee in the breakroom and brush his hand against yours while handing it over.

               On top of that, you gave up on not thinking about Sunday and masturbated to Seonghwa every night that week. Your desire for him was at fever pitch, eclipsing everyone else you’ve ever wanted. You were desperate to know if he fucked as good as he ate pussy.

               You aren’t playing coy tonight. If Seonghwa worked the best with someone being blunt, then you were wearing the equivalent of a bludgeon. Your skirt ended just under your ass, knee high socks with a small bow at the top, and your shirt is low cut, exposing cleavage. The entire outfit is black although your matching bra and underwear are a deep red. There is nothing subtle about the outfit. This makes you nervous at being so forward but exhilarated at how open you are.

               A sudden knock on the door breaks you out of your thoughts. You slowly walk over to the door, taking a second to collect yourself and then you open it.

               Seonghwa stands there, in black slacks again and a form fitting simple white t-shirt. A black bag is slung over his shoulder. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him in just a short sleeved t-shirt before. The sight of his exposed arms sends a jolt through you. Wow, he really is fit, you think as your eyes drag across his well toned arms down to his flat stomach. The fabric of the shirt is thin enough that you can just make out hard muscles underneath. His waist is slender, almost dainty, and a belt hangs off his hips loosely.

               “H-hey,” You say, trying to collect yourself.

               Seonghwa looks as if you popped out of the front door with a baseball bat. His eyes rake across your body so openly that you don’t think he is even aware he’s doing it. He looks slightly dazed, and when he notices how short your skirt is, he swallows hard. There is a touch of colour on his cheeks and his eyes are wide behind his big glasses.

               “Uh, hi,” He manages to squeak out, “How are you?” His tone is formal but he is squeezing the strap of his bag so hard that his knuckles are white.

               “I’m alright. Come in,” You move to the side and Seonghwa enters so nervously that you think of a timid deer in the woods, “You want anything to drink?”

               “Just water, please.”

               You nod and turn around to head towards the kitchen. You can practically feel Seonghwa’s slack jawed stare at the skirt brushing against the bottom of your ass as you leave. Once in the kitchen, you try to slow down the fast beating of your heart. You didn’t think seeing him would throw you so off balance. But you’re already wet.

               When you return to the living room, Seonghwa is sitting on the couch, looking incredibly nervous. You hand him the glass and sit down next to him. His eyes drop to your exposed thighs and he gulps down half the glass immediately before angling his body to face you.

               “Can I be honest with you?”

               For a second, you suddenly worry that he has changed his mind. Too afraid to speak, you merely nod.

               “I’ve never come over to someone’s place with the knowledge it’s going to be for sex so I am out of my element and I’m kinda worried I am just going to…blank out and forget how to…do…everything.”

               The admission is endearing, the flustered way Seonghwa is squirming even more. It is jarring because this is something that normally would not be a turn on. Everything about Seonghwa takes you by surprise – from the rumor down to how much you want to sleep with him.

               “We don’t have to –”

               He interrupts swiftly, “No, I want to. Trust me, I want to. I just…have had a lot of time to overthink.”

               You lean back on the couch, grabbing the remote. “So, we won’t just jump into it. We can just watch TV. You’re staying the night. So…there’s no hurry.”

               Seonghwa relaxes slightly, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. He still sits a bit stiffly though and you can almost see him overthinking everything. From this angle, your eyes trace the muscles in his back, the way the t-shirt lays against his skin and the curve of his neck.

               After about ten minutes of idly watching some boring cooking show, you speak up, “I’ve never seen you in like…a short sleeved t-shirt before.”

               Seonghwa looks down at his torso for a second before going, “Oh…I guess you’re right.” He looks mildly confused, unaware of the impact a simple white t-shirt can have.

               “Didn’t think you’d be working out that much,” You can’t help it – you’re teasing him.

               And it works. His face turns red as he sputters, “My friend Jongho takes it seriously so I tag along with him most times.”

               “You seem to keep quite the busy schedule between work, your friends and all your hobbies,” You say, thinking about how your own free time is spent dreading work, “Hey, weren’t you watching those Star Wars movies in the theatre this week? Are you missing one tonight?”

               Seonghwa leans back on the couch and tilts his face to look at you, his expression a bit shy. “Uhm, yeah, I am missing one tonight. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

               “Are you sure?”

               “Yeah, it’s Attack of the Clones tonight,” He says as if that means anything to you, “I mean I’ve seen them all a thousand times so it’s alright to miss some. Besides,” Seonghwa looks nervous now, “I would rather uh…be here with you.”

               You want to make a joke about how having sex with you wins out over Star Wars but he looks so delicate in his attempt to flirt that you decide against it. Instead, you reach over and take his hand, holding it gently. Seonghwa swallows again, his eyes dropping to your exposed thighs.

               He shifts his weight, leaning forward a little, his eyes asking a question that you’re happy to give an affirmative answer to. You meet him in the middle, your lips touching his lightly at first. His hold on your hand tightens from nerves and then he is kissing you like he did before in that manner that makes your stomach swoop and body stir with desire.

               His hand breaks free of its hold on yours so that he can run it up along your thigh, touching the fabric of your skirt. His breath hitches as his other hand comes down on your thigh. He trails his fingertips along your skin, making you shiver. Seonghwa doesn’t stop doing that as he begins to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. You don’t think you’ve ever been so wet before just from someone barely touching your thighs and kissing you.

               “Do you wanna come to my room?” You breathe out shakily.

               “Yes,” He says seriously in between kissing your neck.

               “Your phone isn’t gonna interrupt us this time?”

               Seonghwa laughs a little and shakes his head. “I put it on silent. The office could burn down and I’d have no idea.”

               Relieved, you pull away and stand up although your legs already feel like jelly. Seonghwa takes your hand and trails after you into your bedroom. The curtains are still pulled back from the windows which open onto a small balcony. Your apartment is large, modern and expensive. At the time, it had been exciting to be able to afford such a place. Now, you’re too miserable to enjoy it and not entirely convinced it fits who you are anymore. But tonight, those worries and concerns don’t matter because you’re here with Seonghwa.

               You cross the room to close the curtains, feeling Seonghwa staring at your ass. The short skirt seems to be impacting him in the way you hoped. When you turn back around, he is already walking towards you. He reaches for your waist, pulling you against him with such an intensity that it takes your breath away.

               His lips are back on yours and his hands slide down, bunching the skirt in the palms of his hands as he grips your ass. You make a small noise of surprise in his mouth, feeling a large bulge against your thigh. Your hands move to the bottom of his shirt and pull it upwards, the kiss breaking so you can toss it off him.

               Your hands move down his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath before circling around his slender waist. Seonghwa is nipping at your neck with his teeth, his hands going underneath the skirt to remove your underwear. You realize he wants the skirt and knee high socks to stay on and you feel secretly pleased that he enjoys them that much.

               Once your underwear joins his shirt on the floor, you move backwards towards the bed, your hands fumbling with the button on his pants at the same time Seonghwa is trying to take off your shirt. It ends up being a collision of limbs and the two of you accidently thunk your heads together.

               Seonghwa laughs and then takes a step away from you. “S-sorry, I guess I got a little overly excited.”

               “Me too,” You say, taking note of how fast your heart is racing.

               Seonghwa stares at you for a few seconds, his cheeks a bright red. His hair is tousled, his pants unbuttoned. In the gentle lighting of the bedroom, you take in the sight of his toned chest and stomach, your pussy so soaked it is like your brain has simply shut off and retired for the night.

               You reach up for his glasses, your hands hovering over them. “We kinda made a mess on these last time. Do you…”

               “No, I don’t need them. My vision is worse far away and you’re…well, you’re very close,” He murmurs.

               You remove his glasses gently, stepping away from Seonghwa to put them on the top of your dresser. With your back still to him, you pull your shirt off over your head and turn to face him. His breathing has quickened as you take your place in front of him. This time, you go for his shirt as he stares at your bra. His skin is hot to the touch as if the nerves and desire are buzzing around just underneath his skin.

               It takes you a second to once again admire his body, taking note of how good he looks; certainly the last thing you expected from nerdy Seonghwa. You drag one finger down along his stomach, stopping at the top of his pants.

               “W-wait,” He says suddenly and your hand freezes, wondering if he has decided against sleeping together.

You don’t think you’ve ever had so much anxiety about someone opting out of sleeping with you until this whole thing began with Seonghwa. Frozen in place, your gaze flicks upwards at him.

               Seonghwa looks embarrassed as he stammers out, “We can’t just – what I mean is…going right into it. We can’t. Not that I don’t want to,” He says quickly, “I do but you’re just – and I’m…” He takes a steadying breath. “You’re too tight for me. Right now. I have to get you ready.”

               You blink, staring at him in surprise and fine, maybe a jolt of excitement. The rumor of his big dick comes back to you full force and your eyes instinctively drop down to the bulge in his pants.

               “Is that what you were doing last time?” You ask curiously, remembering how his fingers in you and telling you that your pussy was tight.

               “Well, I did want to go down on you. But once my fingers were in you, I realized…you know?” Seonghwa is nervous, making you wonder how many times he’s had this conversation in the past, “So let me help.”

               If by help he meant making you feel that good again, you weren’t about to disagree. His hands slink up along your lower back up to the clasp of your bra which he undoes, peeling the fabric off your skin to expose your tits. His warm hands grope them, his thumbs grazing your nipples to watch the way you shiver from the touch. He brings his head down to your neck, lips against your skin. Even though you’ve been daydreaming for days about bouncing on his cock, you are quickly lost in the touches given by him.

               Seonghwa gently pushes you against the bed, indicating for you to sit down. As you do so, he slides to his knees, his large hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart. Exposed in front of him again, wearing just your skirt and knee high socks, you normally would feel nervous. But instead, you’re lost in the sight of Seonghwa’s broad shoulders, his long fingers pressing against your skin and how his eyelashes are dark smears against his cheeks as he looks at your cunt.

               Bringing his face forward, his tongue dips into your wet hole with an almost lewd slurping noise. You can feel his tongue probing your entrance to taste you, his hands still holding your thighs apart. Then Seonghwa drags his tongue upwards to flick against your clit, causing you to gasp.

               One hand moves off your thigh. You watch as he brings one finger to your entrance, pushing it carefully inside your tight hole. He pumps it slowly while rolling his tongue over your sensitive nub. Your chest rises and falls quickly with each movement of his finger and tongue, soft whimpers tumbling from your lips. Still, you remain propped up to watch Seonghwa, his eyes closed as he works on your pussy.

               Gingerly, he inserts a second finger. Still pumping his fingers at a leisurely pace, he switches to using the tip of his tongue against your clit like last time. It feels good, incredibly good, and your head rolls back a little as you moan out his name. He makes a small noise that sounds like a sigh when you do so, wiggling his fingers deep in your cunt.

               You’re somehow going to climax already. You aren’t sure how Seonghwa can get you off so fast. Your thighs shake and he keeps his other hand steady on your skin so that you can’t close your legs. The tip of his tongue feels delicious against your swollen clit, his fingers making a soft squishy noise with each pump.

               And then you’re cumming, your juices against his fingers, his tongue still flicking hard and fast against your clit. You fall back on the bed, no longer attempting to prop yourself up to watch, as your orgasm takes over. Seonghwa slows down his tongue as you wiggle against his fingers, wondering what it would be like to be stuffed with him.

               Even after your orgasm quiets, Seonghwa doesn’t stop moving his fingers. Instead, he murmurs, “That’s good. I’m going to add another finger and then you’re going to cum again.” His tone isn’t forceful or demanding – it is just matter of fact.

               Woozily, you go, “What?”

               “You heard me,” He hums quietly and then a third finger pushes into your cunt, “There you go, baby, take my fingers just like that.”

               You want to tell him you’ll do anything if he keeps talking to you in that tone but words seem to be eluding you at the moment.

               Seonghwa’s fingers are buried as far as they can go in you. He fucks you with them slowly, letting you recover from your orgasm. You can hear how wet you are.

               “Such a tight little hole. You’re going to be stuffed with my cock,” Seonghwa continues quietly, “But you’ve been…you’ve been thinking about that anyway, haven’t you?” He sounds a little shy with the question, as if he’s seeking affirmation and is hiding it behind dirty talk.

               “Y-yes,” You breathe out as his speed slightly increases.

               “Been thinking about my cock in you?”

               “Yes,” You repeat and his fingers feel so good that when his tongue goes back against your clit, you groan, your hand suddenly in his hair, gripping it in such a way that you can hear him grunt in approval, “Ever since I heard the rumor,” You admit.

               Seonghwa’s fingers move faster now. He doesn’t respond since he is too busy sucking on your clit in a way that makes your brain feel as if it is melting. Every few seconds he stops to wiggle his fingers inside you before resuming fucking you with them. You think you might be moaning his name – or it might be literal gibberish, you aren’t exactly sure. But Seonghwa doesn’t stop, just makes noises of approval when your hips buck and your grip on his hair tightens.

               Somehow, you’re going to cum again already. The entire situation feels a bit ridiculous: that someone you looked over a thousand times due to how nerdy he is can make you cum like this, that you never want him to stop because it feels too good, and that you’re about to finish all over his face.

               But you do, your climax just as intense as the one prior. Your back arches as you cum, enjoying how your juices coat his fingers as his tongue presses against your overstimulated clit. You’re suddenly grateful that your bedroom wall isn’t shared with a neighbor because you’re making way too much noise.

               Breathless, your eyes close as your orgasm winds down. Seonghwa removes his fingers and you can hear him sucking them clean loudly. Your legs hang off the bed. You feel fucked out and you haven’t even started yet.

               But it is the sound of Seonghwa unzipping his pants that finally makes you prop yourself up again. Seonghwa tugs his pants down his hips, exposing the top of his boxers. His hair is a mess from you gripping it and his face is smeared in your cum but he doesn’t seem to care. Good thing we took his glasses off, you think hazily.

               His pants hit the floor, leaving him in just his boxers. The bulge strains against the fabric and when he finally pulls them down and his cock springs free, you realize 1. The rumor was true and 2. Seonghwa was correct in trying to prepare you for him.

               “Fuck, okay,” You don’t realize you said this aloud until Seonghwa looks embarrassed.

               “We don’t – I mean, if it’s too much,” He stammers out.

               You can only stare at him incredulously at such a suggestion which only deepens the colour across his cheeks. You lean forward, curling your hand softly around his girth. He inhales sharply at the touch. Your hand looks positively small against the size of his cock. You aren’t even sure how much of it you could fit in your mouth but fuck if you aren’t going to try.

               Sitting at the edge of your bed with Seonghwa in front of you, your head tilts back to look up at him. He looks pretty, you realize while staring at him. You supposed he was always pretty but you never took much notice of it due to his clothes and big glasses. It seems laughable now to think he has spent all this time wandering around the office and you’ve been clueless to what he’s like…including in bed.

               Working up salvia in your mouth, you spit it out onto his cock, smearing it across the shaft. He exhales, eyes closing as you stroke him. You take the tip of his dick in your mouth, your tongue circling the tip slowly. Seonghwa groans softly as you take more of him. Your mouth opens wider to accommodate his size but it’s obvious from the start that you’re not going to be able to fit all of him. He seems to sense this because his eyes open, looking down at you.

               Even so, your tongue presses against the underside of his shaft as you suck his cock. Drool quickly pools at the bottom of your mouth, spilling out at the corner of your lips. You are still looking up at him, admiring the way his facial expressions subtly change with each movement. He looks sexy, you think, in that messy, turned on sort of way where his calm and pleasant exterior is quickly being destroyed.

               He makes a small whine in the back of his throat when you let his cock slip out of your mouth, covered in your drool and his precum. But when you slide back onto the bed and gesture for him to follow, he doesn’t waste a second.

               Seonghwa’s body presses against yours as the two of you kiss. Your hands are on the back of his neck, the kiss a mess of cum and spit. One of his hands is squeezing your tit, groping you as your legs wrap around his waist. You can feel his big dick pressing against your pussy. You whimper in his mouth, a quiet plea for him to fuck you.

               The kiss breaks. Seonghwa’s lips are slightly swollen from all the kissing. You realize at some point you must have bitten down on his bottom lip.

               “We’re gonna go slow,” He murmurs, “And if it’s too much, just tell me.”

               You nod although you have never been this determined in your life. Even the long hours at the office cannot compare to the determination of getting his big dick in you.

               He adjusts his position, his cock pressing at your entrance. Carefully, Seonghwa pushes forward. Loosening you up earlier combined with drooling over his dick helps because you can feel the head of him enter easily. He slowly continues, giving your pussy time to get used to how thick and large he is.

               It doesn’t take long to feel stuffed, your walls stretched out around his cock. Whenever your pussy tightens, Seonghwa stops. His breathing is shaky and you’re sure the only thing he wants to do is fuck you into the bed but he holds back.

               You’re actually feeling pretty accomplished. In fact, the entire thing was easier than you had been expecting –

               “Okay, that was halfway,” He says, and you can only stare at him.

               “What?” You reply, feeling as if you couldn’t take another inch, “I thought…”

               He grins, quick as a flash, before going, “You thought that was all of me?”

               “I mean, I feel…uh, pretty full,” You say bashfully, “I just assumed…”

               Seonghwa brings his body close to yours, his arms sliding underneath your back. Pressed against him, your legs tighten around his hips and another half an inch slides in. You gasp a little in surprise, your pussy tightening.

               His lips are near your ear and he whispers, “Relax for me,” When you do so, he moves his hips ever so slightly so you can take more of him, “There you go, baby.”

               You shiver, your hands gripping his shoulders as he sinks deeper into your cunt. Your pussy is absolutely stuffed and you can’t imagine fitting more of him inside you. But it also feels amazing, your entire body warm from the pressure of his cock.

               “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Seonghwa grunts, going still for a moment, his head lowering and his hair brushes against your jawline, “Does it feel okay?”

               ‘Okay’ doesn’t seem like a good word to even describe how it feels for him to be inside you. Your fingers dig slightly into his shoulders as you reply, “Don’t stop.”

               More of his cock slides deeper. You wiggle your hips experimentally, seeing if it helps. It does as more of his girth stretches out your cunt. Seonghwa sharply inhales, his hands pressed hard against your back to stop himself from bucking his hips.

               You randomly think about all the times you’ve seen Seonghwa in the corner of your eye at the office, barely paying him any mind. He was just walking around work with a gigantic dick and I had no idea. If he hadn’t fucked that random regional manager, I still wouldn’t know.

               “Seonghwa?” You ask in a shaky voice.

               Seonghwa stops for a moment, pulling away from your neck to look at your face. “Everything okay?”

               “Y-yes.” For some reason it’s harder to ask the question when he is looking at you. “You ever sleep with anyone else at work?”

               “No!” He refutes quickly, “Did someone say I did?”

               “No, no, I was just…wondering,” He is looking at you curiously so you keep going, “I was just thinking about how long we’ve worked together and that I didn’t – I mean, never heard anything about you having a big dick until that manager at the conference.”

               “Right…” Seonghwa says slowly, clearly not following your train of thought.

               You gingerly reach upwards to sweep his hair out of his eyes. He takes this chance to rock his hips slightly, more of his cock entering your tight hole to make you gasp.

               “Just was thinking like…if I had known earlier. That’s all. But if you had slept with someone at work, it might’ve gotten around. Before now.”

               Something shifts behind Seonghwa’s gaze and he laughs softly before curling back around you. He is slowly rocking his hips now and with one final push, you inhale sharply, feeling as if you’re going to burst.

               “There,” He mumbles against your skin, “You took it all.”

               It seems ridiculous to feel so pleased but you do. Seonghwa doesn’t stop his small movements. His teeth gently bite down on your earlobe and then he speaks again. “Are you saying you would’ve tried fucking me earlier?” His voice is low in your ear, tingling down your spine.

               “Yes, I think so,” You mumble.

               “Would’ve let me bend you over my desk?” He continues and the words combined with his dick are making your head go light, “After everyone else leaves, you would’ve pretended to need my help for something? And by the end of the night, you would have my cock stuffed in your tight hole, letting me fuck you until you were dazed and drooling?” As he talks, he continues to rock his hips, very steadily increasing the speed as your pussy gets used to being stuffed full of him.

               The mental image is a vivid one. Hearing Seonghwa talk so dirty is turning you on even more. You curse quietly as your lips find his. There is nothing timid about this kiss, a sloppy and lustful mess as he begins to actually fuck you now. Your pussy is squeezing him so hard that you aren’t sure how he’s not cumming already. He can barely fit in your cunt but you’re so wet it doesn’t seem to matter.

               When the kiss ends, your lips are still touching so each word of his next sentence feels like a soft kiss. “And then by the time I’m finished unloading in your cunt and you manage to stand up, I can see that you drooled all over the papers I keep on my desk because every single thought in your head is wiped clean from my big dick.”

               Fuck, who taught the nerd to dirty talk? You think distantly. His thrusts are about as fast as he can go now without hurting you. Your pussy is not used to something this large but it doesn’t seem to be negatively impacting Seonghwa’s enjoyment. Your legs tighten around his waist as you try to move your hips to meet his. Seonghwa shifts his hands downwards, gripping your ass through the skirt now so he can drive his cock deeper.

               The angle change means he’s hitting your sweet spot now. You’re groaning and gasping out his name as your juices spread all over his cock and out of your hole, being squished out of you from how big he is. Seonghwa’s eyes are closed, chasing his own orgasm as your third one of the night draws closer.

               Your fingernails dig into his back, feeling his muscles move underneath your hands. He isn’t even fully thrusting, mostly rocking his hips at the highest speed your cunt can take. But he’s so big and you feel so stretched out around his girth, combined with the angle, and it doesn’t take much longer for your climax to hit.

               Your pussy tightens around Seonghwa’s cock and he groans, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a mark. You can feel him spilling out inside you, the way he’s making a mess in your cunt. It leaks out around his length because there is so much of it as the two of you cum together in a blur of noise and skin against skin.

               Afterwards, Seonghwa carefully untangles himself from you, pulling out slowly. Your entire body feels like jelly as he plops down on the bed next to you, trying to catch his breath.

               Well, you think, I guess I’ve figured out the entire rumor is true.

*

               Seonghwa’s heart rate has slowed. You can tell because your head is resting on his chest. You are feeling sleepy and content which is the only reason you allowed yourself to snuggle up to him. It doesn’t matter that his fingers feel nice trailing along your neck or that he is warm and comfortable. It also doesn’t matter that you like how his toned stomach feels underneath your own hand. You’re just too tired to move off him.

               Seonghwa has been talking about how he cosplayed as Anakin Skywalker at some convention two years ago with his friend, Mingi. His entire friend circle sounds like the nerdiest group of people on the planet. But there’s a happiness whenever he talks about his time around them, something that you cannot relate to, given that everyone got cut off for your career.

               But you enjoy the lilt of his voice and the steadying presence of his body. If he was my type, he would be boyfriend material, you think, refusing to entertain any other idea that your brain might be trying to show you.

               “Are you listening?” Seonghwa asks quietly, breaking you from your thoughts.

               “Yes,” You reply, wiggling down against him with a yawn.

               “You know who Anakin is, right?”

               “Yes,” You are mildly affronted, “He’s the guy who taught Vader.”

               “No, that’s Obi-Wan,” He sounds vaguely mortified, “It’s fine.” You aren’t sure if that is directed at you or himself.

               “I wanna see this cosplay.”

               “I have pics on my phone but please don’t make me get out of bed. I can show you another time.”

               “But if you get out of bed, I can check out your butt.”

               Seonghwa makes a strange squeaking noise of embarrassment. You tilt your face upwards to look at him. The two of you had cleaned up a bit after having sex but his cheeks seemed to have a permanent red hue to them. You find it endearing.

               “Can I ask you something?” You want to see how red he can get. “Where did you learn to fuck like that?”

               The colour on his cheeks deepens. He squirms a bit, unable to look at you directly. “W-what?”

               “Where did you learn to fuck like that?” You repeat, taking great pleasure in Seonghwa’s nose scrunching up for a second. “I mean, sure the big dick is just bestowed upon you. But the pussy eating and the fingering and then making sure it’s not uncomfortable to take someone of your size and –”

               “Okay, I get it,” He squeaks out, his face pleasantly red, “I get it.”

               You drop the conversation, enjoying how flustered he looks. You lower your head back down onto his chest, yawning a little, eyes closing.

               “I’m ah…glad that you like how I…do things,” He says and you can hear his accelerated heart rate in your ear.

               “Do you date a lot?” This is just you being curious.

               “Sometimes. My last relationship was maybe a couple of years ago. It just didn’t work out. She wanted to move and I wanted to stay here. Ever since then, I usually just go on some casual dates here and there. Sometimes, it leads to sex. There was a woman about eight months ago that almost turned into something but in hindsight we just liked sleeping together a lot. It became all we did when we hung out so it didn’t feel like we really knew one another. But you’re the first person I’ve done this…friends with benefits thing.”

               “Right,” You mumble, disliking the weird twist in your stomach when he mentioned ‘friends with benefits’.

               “What about you?”

               “No. No time. My last relationship was four years ago. Sometimes I do a one night stand or a hook up here and there. But I’ve just been so busy with work that I think everything else sorta got sidelined.”

               Seonghwa chews on this for a moment before asking, “Do you regret that?”

               “I never did until recently. It feels like I’m regretting everything lately.”

               “Including work,” He states this as a fact.

               “Yeah, I guess so,” You brush it off, “But I don’t want to talk about work right now.”

               “You’re not regretting…uhm…”

               At this you laugh. “No, I am not regretting fucking you.”

               Seonghwa relaxes underneath you. Sleep is tugging on you for attention now. You hold onto Seonghwa tightly, too tightly and if you weren’t so tired, you would be telling yourself to pull away, turn on your side and fall asleep. But he still makes you feel safe and you’re too tired to push that away.

               You fall asleep against Seonghwa like that, with his heartbeat in your ear and his body against yours.

PART THREE HERE.

Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @pyeonghongrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @cherrypandora - @almondmilkeu - @kitten4sannie - @leo-seonghwa - @hwalysm - @revehosh - @mulletjoonsupremacy - @byungaji - @erensluut - @singularity777 - @hwa-whiskers - @luxvatz - @seonghwasstar - @eyesonlyformingi - @rxnexxi - @rosealie05 - @right-here-in-these-arms - @moonsangie - @yeonjuns-sock - @pink-hwaberry - @fudgeflyssworld - @ninalove323 - @darkdayelixer - @mixling-blog - @innsomniacshinestar 

Couldn’t tag: @ohgeezitsbreadgenie - @bubblepoppsworld - @kyukyustar - @lelaleleb - @onlyupark - @seongua 

[rewh0re]

THE SOULMATE THEORY ; MIKAGE REO

- wc: 1.1k, aged up characters (like 19-20) doesn't dive into explicit/hardcore smut but is definitely suggestive in some parts so I'd say readers 16 and above may read this, indirect mentions of sexual activities, fluff, reader is called a minx (affectionate), a little bit of that one old greek myth about soulmates, it's true that once you use em dash you can't stop.

a/n: literally got the idea at the doctor's office don't even. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!! also tagging: @chigirizzz (this is that one reo fic I was telling you about where you asked me to tag you)

The room was dark. The only source of light—though bright but not enough to light up the whole room—was from the digital clock on the bedside table. '12:42,’ it read in bright neon red numbers. It was also quiet, so much so that two pairs of steady breathings could be heard.

One belonged to Reo and the other, to you.

"Are you asleep?" You whisper—soft and delicate—careful as to not wake your lover up if he indeed was asleep but loud enough to let him know of your own sleepless state.

Your eyes have been long adjusted to the darkness and you can make out the silhouette of his face. The length of his nose and his eyelashes, the slight part of his lush lips, his sharp and angular jaw—truly—he was majestic.

"No," his eyes fluttered open and his lips turned upward. His smile, the gentleness of which never failed to make your heart beat ten times faster, which never failed to make your stomach feel all giddy with the butterflies that erupted.

"I was thinking about your face from earlier and the various sounds you made too actually. Sweet as honey to me but I'm afraid Mrs. Tanaka might complain come morning," gentle tone was overruled by mischief. That was Mikage Reo, a gem of a person for a second and a force to be reckoned with the next.

"Please don't oh my god," you covered your face—now tinted with embarrassment—with the comforter you and Reo shared as you whined in protest.

The activities from an hour back rushing into your brain, playing like a movie sequence. As foggy as your mind was earlier, you were surprised that you remembered everything so vividly. You could still feel his rough, calloused and much larger hands tracing every curve of your body as if to memorise its shape. You could feel the lingering kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your chest, the now purple marks left with pride. You would have to cover them before work in the morning. You could hear your own sounds of pleasure and his groans as if to say more, more, more. You could feel it all. You could feel him. Your face flushed a deeper shade of fuchsia as you gulped, trying to get the images out of your head.

"You act like we haven't done this a million times before my love," he laughed slowly, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

"Come on, look at me. Don't shy away now," he pulled the blanket off of you, removing your hands from your face as he hugged you.

"You're incorrigible, you know that right?" You huffed out in faux annoyance, snuggling against his chest, his arms a veil for your figure.

He laughed then, a laugh full of mischief and adoration and something akin to acknowledgement for your previous statement.

You laid like that, in silence. There was peace that came with the soft lub-dub of your synchronised heartbeats and your gentle breaths.

You were the one to break it first.

"Have you ever heard about that one Greek mythology? about soulmates?" You spoke, your cool fingers tracing gentle and soothing shapes on Reo's bare back which was painted with scratches from your nails.

"Can't say I have. Care to tell me?" He looked for your eyes as he pulled up the slipping comforter before pulling you closer to his chest. His warmth engulfed you whole, a comfortable shield from the much cooler surroundings.

"Well there is this theory," you started, face softening into affection as you laid against Reo's—albeit hard—but comfortable chest.

"It says that when Zeus created humans, he originally created them with two of everything. So two heads, two pairs of both the limbs, you get it. Their souls were one too. Fearing the power that these humans could possess, Zeus split them, including their souls, in half and scattered them around the world. The humans—as we now know them to be—would search far and wide, across oceans and lands to look for their other half. It is said that this other half is your soulmate and you search for them throughout your life," you smiled as you looked up at him, engrossed in your little story.

"Well that's just cruel of Zeus now, isn't it? I mean, what if someone doesn't find their soulmate?" Reo pouted and that made you chuckle a little.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It is just a story at the end of the day and how you decide to perceive a story totally depends on you," you jabbed his chest with your finger.

"I think I've found my other half," he stated with pride.

"Oh? Is that so? I wonder who it could be," you made a face as if you were thinking, tapping your chin with your forefinger.

"Oh I bet you do," in an instant your boyfriend was hugging you tighter than ever, his face buried in the crook between your neck and your shoulder.

His soft kisses were ticklish and they made you giggle. Your fingers further messed up his already tousled hair.

"You want me to say it out loud so bad don't you, you little minx," he whispered in your neck as you hummed in response.

"I think I've found my soulmate in you."

"I also think I've found mine in you Reo," your gentle voice was like ambrosia to his ears. He could drown in it, a bit was never enough.

He trailed kisses down the side of your face, starting from your ear, going down your jaw and finally a little bite on your neck. He licked on it in order to soothe the area. A new addition to the marks he had left earlier.

"Ow Reo!" You playfully smacked his head which forced him to separate from your neck.

"I already have enough marks to cover!" You puffed your cheek, barely hiding the smile that was begging to come up to the surface.

"You'll beg for them again tomorrow," he winked at you.

You could only roll your eyes. What would you even say? Deep in your heart, even you knew that he was right. "What is wrong with you?"

"Just that I'm irrevocably in love with you," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, shutting his eyes.

"Unfortunately, I happen to love you too."

Teasing glances from your coworkers and friends due to the remnants from the events of the night would be a concern for later. For now, sleep would come easy to you because here you were, with Reo, in his arms. He was your safe haven and you were his and truly, whatever in the world could ever change that?

[maryangelex]

Never Let Me Go (Pt. 3)

John Price x f! Reader

Part 4

A/N: this is a long one!!! but here's the smut i promised ;) believe me when i say there's plenty to come.

Song is In My Feelings because of course!!!!!

Happy reading <3

Warnings: NSFW like always, smut, a bit dubcon (?), price is a perv and steals panties.

Tomorrow at 8. 

Those were the only words occupying your brain ever since they came out of John's mouth. The feeling of his fingers against your temple, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, was still tingling on your skin a whole day later. 

You had gone to work the next day thinking of nothing but the upcoming date. Your cousin couldn't be more elated for you, even telling you to get out much earlier than your regular closing time just so you could get ready. You shook your head at the request but did not decline it, knowing that you would need ample time to soothe your nerves and perfect yourself before meeting with John tonight. 

During your shift, you didn't expect to see him because of your plans. But he made sure to make a quick appearance at the cafe, and you couldn't complain. 

As you wiped down the counter, you caught a glimpse of the man's hulking form through the large windows at the front of the store. Your cheeks were immediately pulled by the smile that grew across your lips. As he walked in, he returned the expression; a kind tight-lipped smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

And although you loved the man's handsome face, your eyes were more fixated on his toned body, an image you had not been graced with since you met him. You knew those sweaters weren't doing him justice. John had athletic wear on, sporting a tight thermal shirt that contoured every bulging muscle on his arms and chest. His hair was dampened by sweat and his cheeks lightly flushed. 

You practically drooled at the sight. Something in you told you that he was only here to show off, too. Again, you couldn't complain. 

His body pressed against the counter, propped on his elbows for support as he leaned forward to speak to you. It only made his solid biceps bulge even more under his shirt, looking like they'd tear through the fabric if he shifted ever so slightly. 

"Mornin', John," you greeted him politely, raking your eyes along his body briefly and subconsciously. 

His smile turned into a sly smirk as if knowing the effect he had on you. 

"Mornin', love," he said, "thought I'd pay you a quick visit on my run." 

"Too eager to wait for tonight?" you quipped, as you took a bottle of water from the cooler behind the counter, handing it over to him.

He accepted with a light 'cheers' as he downed it quickly before saying, "I just can't go on 'bout my day without seein' ya." 

You rolled your eyes at him, suppressing your smile from growing wider, but your cheeks betrayed you by staining in pink. 

When he finished his water in a final gulp, with a heavy sigh of relief, he tipped the empty vessel at you in gratitude before leaving. 

"I'll see you at 8 tonight then, love," he said with certitude. You scoffed, giving him an affirmative nod as you tried to play it cool. In your best efforts to hide the nerves raging within you. 

At 5 in the afternoon, your cousin couldn't push you out of the cafe any more adamantly. You kept insisting that you should stay otherwise she'd kill herself managing the closing shift. But of course, she succeeded at pushing you and locking you out, shooing you away and saying "Go put yourself together for the man!"

You raced to your apartment, kicking your shoes off peeling every layer of your outfit off and tossing everything in your hamper, and scampered to the shower to wash yourself as if you were covered in all sorts of grime. You washed your hair, exfoliated, did steps of your skincare you didn't even know you had and coated yourself in body lotion to the point you could have slid through the bars of a jail cell. 

Some three hours to go, you stood in front of your closet wrapped in a towel, sorting through every article of clothing you owned with the sound of the hangers scraping across the rack echoing through your empty apartment. You cursed at yourself when nothing was deemed fit for the occasion. If anyone saw you right now and didn't know any better they'd think you were about to meet the king. 

John had texted you earlier about the location of your date. You had noticed in the time you two had texted each other that the man misused emojis and had no concept of abbreviations of slang; you found it endearing. 

Pub on Wright Street. x

Was marked as read on your phone screen.

You settled for jeans and a top you hadn't taken the tag off, in your best efforts to remain casual, still trying to put up the facade that you weren't as eager as you were to go on a date with John. 

Truth be told, you hadn't gone on a date in months. Maybe the whole year, actually. There just weren't any blokes that you wanted to give the time of day. None of them left an impression on you the way John had, with his kind smile and his crystal eyes. He was magnetizing, and the fact that he made it seem like all his attention was reserved for you made you feel like putting some effort on him was worth it. 

In your remaining time, you dabbed some makeup on your face and put some finishing touches on yourself. You felt strange when you looked at your reflection like a different person was looking back at you. But it was in the best way possible; this person was someone more confident and sure of herself. You only hoped John saw the same in you at your date. You hoped this was worth the effort. 

Though the pub was relatively close, you called yourself a cab to preserve your look, not wanting to show up sweaty and disheveled to your date. By the time you made it, it was still 20 minutes till 8, and the sight of John already being there brought an immense sense of relief. Like a true gentleman, he had arrived much earlier than you had agreed. Maybe he was as nervous as you were and needed time to collect himself. But someone as suave as him, who stood with a confident posture, most likely did not feel an ounce of worry, you thought. 

He opened the door of the cab for you, stretching out a hand to help you step out. He took your hand in his, and you felt the roughness of his palm. A calloused hand held your much silkier one with a supportive grip as you stepped out of the cab and scanned your eyes over him. 

God, he's stunning, you thought. The smell of his cologne wafted into your nostrils, a teakwood mahogany scent mixed with the smokey smell of a cigar. It was intoxicating, making your chest burn like a bonfire. He was dressed quite handsomely, like always, too. Nothing fancy, but the fact that it was him wearing the clothes made him automatically attractive. 

You felt his gaze on you as well, except he was much more shameless than you when it came to his observations. 

"Fuckin' hell, love, you look gorgeous," he crooned. You gave him an embarrassed look and lightly swatted at his arm, which still hadn't let go of your hand. He chuckled lightly at the effect his words had on you. 

"You don't look too bad y'self, John," your voice was almost a whisper, and he gave you a flattered smile and a squeeze of your hand. 

He escorted you inside the pub, a booth for the two of you had even been arranged. To call the place a pub was underselling it. It was more like a newly opened restaurant with the inspiration being a pub. You'd be lying if you said you weren't impressed, and maybe even a little bit embarrassed to think John would pick a place any less grand than this for your date. 

"This is a really nice place, I feel underdressed," you confessed as you looked around at the wooden details and old-fashioned decor. 

John scoffed at your statement, "You couldn't be more perfect, doll." He hadn't taken your eyes off you as he sat next to you in the booth, his knee lightly bumping against yours. The close proximity to his grandiose presence made you feel claustrophobic like you were witness to a greater power next to you. The warmth of his body was impossible to close, and his much larger frame made you feel shielded from the world around you. 

John ordered for the two of you. Normally this was a turn-off for you, to have a man dictate what you should eat. But the fact that it was him and that you sensed no ulterior motive of disrespect on his part, made it almost attractive, like it was a display of his leadership. 

And you were glad he was the one to order when the food and drinks came around. He confessed he came to the pub often because he wasn't the best cook; the most he could make himself was a decent breakfast but was clueless when it came to proper meals. 

"I'll come around here for dinner and to your shop for the sweets," he proposed. 

"Or you can come by mine and save some money," you blurted out with a sense of confidence you didn't know you had. The alcohol of the drinks he ordered was certainly taking effect on you. 

John smirked at your response, a hint of pink dusted his bearded cheeks, "I'll take your offer then, love." His voice was sultry as he took a sip of his bourbon, his eyes not straying from you through a half-lidded gaze.

The two of you cleared the plates of food between conversations. The alcohol made the flow of your banter easier and less reserved. Your laughs went from timid chuckles to your more natural, louder guffaws. It made John beam whenever he made you laugh, watching you bear your true, uncensored self to him bit by bit. 

When the waiter took the plates away, you were only left with your third round of drinks, maybe fourth, actually; you'd lost count. Your ears and cheeks were flushed red and your mind was woozy. John was hardly fazed in comparison, now reclined back against the seat with a long, beefy arm outstretched behind you on the booth, almost as if claiming you to the public. It made you feel smaller than you were compared to him. 

He brought his refilled glass of bourbon to his lips, his blue eyes rested on you, pupils masking his irises like a waning crescent moon. Could be the dim lights, you thought, or something else. You didn't want to assume, but you wouldn't be upset if it was the latter. You'd be kidding yourself to think you weren't starting to get hot and bothered from the mix of liquor and the fact that the man you were crushing on was mere inches away from you. 

There was a beat of silence for a moment between the two of you. John's stare was burning your skin like a laser, and you avoided his eyes in fear you'd be turned to stone from looking at him. You minded your drink until he spoke up. 

"I've got a confession to make, love," he sighed heavily, glugging the contents of his cup before continuing, "don't want us startin' off without any secrecy." 

Your eyes now snapped up to his face, giving him a puzzled look. 

Fuck, so he is married, your mind immediately jumped to conclusion. Of course, he was married, this is just your luck! And who wouldn't want to marry a man this fit? His poor wife--

"Please don't tell me you're married!" you blurted out impulsively. John's eyes widened and he took a moment before snorting and erupting into a boisterous laugh. The man was practically in tears as he rubbed a knuckle across his eye, deescalating from his bout of laughter. 

"No, love, no need to worry 'bout that," he clarified. He turned to look at you again, adoration in his eyes, as if you making him laugh was carving even more space for you in his heart. 

"Right, erm, sorry," you apologized in embarrassment but couldn't help but chuckle a bit with him, a bit of relief washing over you. 

"Truth is, erm, the day we met I wasn't really lost in your bookstore," he started as he rubbed a hand behind his neck, "I knew exactly what I was lookin' for, it gets borin' on leave 'n I had a good book in mind..." 

Your face was still puzzled as you watched him get flustered. 

"I know how awfully corny this sounds but, I saw you behind the counter 'n thought 'Fuck I've gotta find a way to talk to this pretty thing', so I made m'self look like an idiot so I could talk to ya." 

You paused for a second, taking note of multiple things in his confession. One, he thought you were pretty from the get-go. Two, he was itching to talk to you. And three, he made the effort, as silly as it was, to approach you. This big ol' bloke was just a big softie. 

His face contorted into a concerned expression at your silence, his body shifting and tensing. "I know it sounds odd but-- I mean--" he stammered, interrupted by the sound of your laughter. 

"Oh, John," was all you could manage shaking your head in disbelief at his confession. His body relaxed and the smile returned to his pink face. Suddenly, you felt no sense of nervousness around him, given that he was pining just as much as you all this time, feigning as much nonchalance as you had been (more successfully, though). 

Once your laughter toned down you mindlessly placed a comforting hand on his thigh. The solid muscle beneath your touch flexed, the feeling shooting straight to the space between your legs. But you peered up at him with glistening eyes, giving him an affectionate look.

His eyes locked with yours and he brought a hand up to your cheek, giving the fat there a light scolding pinch, "Can't believe you're laughin' when 'm bein' vulnerable."

You giggled, "How could I not!" you retorted. The two of you shared another moment of pleasant silence as you stared at each other, feeling like you had known the man in front of you for decades. Like you were two old lovers on their nth date tonight. 

"Y'wanna get out of here, doll?" he cooed, and your response was a nod and a hum. 

John paid for the two of you, of course, despite your adamant protesting. His excuse was that you had given him too many teas, coffees, and sweets on the house, and scolded that that was no way to run a business.

When the two of you exited the pub, you stood facing him at the front of the place. He had draped your jacket over your shoulders and was adjusting the front to keep you cozy from the chilly wind. You felt woozy on your feet but nothing you couldn't handle. John's radiated body heat mixed with your jacket and the alcohol in your system was keeping you warm.

Once he was satisfied with how he placed your jacket on you, he moved his hand up to your face. Again, he tucked a stay piece of your hair back into your eat, but this time he brushed the knuckle of his index finger over your cheekbone. Then it trailed to under your chin. You peered up at him with your doe eyes and you were greeted with those shadowy eyes. There was something else in them, though, something beyond kindness, with more intensity, maybe even desire. 

It made you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, the heat radiated between your legs as well. And you wanted John to help you put out that fire.

The man whispered, "Let me take ya home, dove." And you gave him an approving nod. He took your hand in yours again, tangling your fingers together as he took you back to your flat. 

The two of you stood outside the front door. John's body was towering close to yours and he looked down at you with the lustful glint in his eyes. Your cheeks burned and your body ached for him to make a move, any move. You just wanted to feel his touch once again. Your hands twitched at your sides. 

His hand went up to your hair again, twirling a strand between his fingers this time. Then it reached up to pet your hair on the side of your head. It found its way back to your cheek, brushing his knuckles against the soft, flustered skin, before cupping your face in one hand. You leaned against his touch. His other hand joined at cupping the other side of your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. You could feel his hot breath near your face. 

"May I?" he whispered, his voice husky and seductive yet gentle and considerate. You nodded in his hands and let out the softest 'of course,' granting him permission. 

John didn't hesitate the second you gave him your approval and leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips. It was gentle but didn't lack an ounce of desire. He pulled back for a moment to savor the first taste of your lips. Your hands were shyly placed on his waist, feeling the tenderness of his body as they scaled up to his back. 

You rose up on the tip of your toes to meet his lips as he leaned back in to kiss you a second time. Your gesture showed him you were just as eager, that you had just as much desire to kiss him again and again. It was more passionate this time, less reserved. His lips were buttery soft and you melted in the taste of him, in the feeling of his mouth on yours. You felt bold enough to let your tongue pry between his lips and he welcomed it with his own. 

You emitted a soft hum within the kiss. One of John's hands snaked around your waist, pulling you flush to his body. He was a furnace, the feeling of his body slotted against yours burnt you like hot coals. Your hands draped over his shoulders, melding your body with his as he kissed you deeply. 

You pulled away from the kiss momentarily, only to catch your breath. John held your face with one hand and kept you close. The tip of his narrow nose brushed against yours. His eyes held yours as his thumb rubbed your cheek once more. 

You anticipated him to ask to come inside your flat. Well, you were praying he'd ask you if he could come inside. The heat between your legs was simmering, the wetness was physically palpable and you ached for him, partially blaming the alcohol for your body's intense reaction. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, love," John purred, planting a goodbye kiss on your other cheek. It took a moment for you to catch on when he stepped back from you and you felt the cold from his absence. Your mind was dumbfounded, but you nodded hesitantly before turning slightly to unlock your door. John flashed you one of his kind smiles before he went on his way back to his apartment. You returned it out of politeness, to not make it obvious how confused you were. 

When you entered your flat and closed to door, you leaned your back against it and let out a heavy sigh. You felt like a knobhead for thinking someone like John would just fuck you on the first date. He wasn't just some bloke that had a one-night stand and never called you back, not what you were used to, and you kicked yourself for even remotely thinking John would do the same. He actually wanted to take his time with you and put effort into you. You rubbed your hand over your face in frustration and let out a groan. 

But quickly you decided to look on the bright side, though, bringing your fingers to your kiss-swollen lips as you savored the lingering taste of John, and the memory of mere minutes ago when he kissed you flooding back into your mind and making you squeal. 

That night you fell asleep giddy like a schoolgirl at the thought of seeing him again tomorrow. 

It was very early in the morning when you came into the cafe. The door of the cafe was unlocked but the sign was still flipped on 'Closed' so no customers would come in as you got the shop ready. You had already gotten everything behind the counter arranged; pastries set out, espresso machine cleaned, counter wiped. So you moved on to the shelves to do some light dusting over the books, arranging a few of them that had been misplaced. 

You heard the ringing of the bell, letting you know someone had just come in. You knew it wasn't your cousin because she had asked you to take over for the day since she went on a girl's trip, so you assumed it was a customer and politely raised your voice to say, "Sorry, we're still closed!". You peeked over to the door to see if you were correct to assume it was a confused patron only to find John walking past the entrance. He approached you with an apologetic smile. 

" 'S just me, love, sorry for showin' up so early," he said, standing in close proximity to you now between the bookshelves. You smiled at him with a faint blush; it was hard not to see him differently after last night.

"No worries, John," you said, but your smile faded as concern crept on you, wondering what he was doing here. He seemed uneasy, fidgeting hands finding comfort in the pockets of his jacket. "Something the matter?" you asked softly. 

" 'Bout last night, doll," he started. Your mind was racing again, worrying that he regretted kissing you, that he felt he made a mistake in kissing you or even asking you out or pursuing you to begin with. You were about to tell him it was alright, that you could pretend nothing happened, that you'd forget about it and return to normal. 

"I shoulda gone inside with ya," he sighed. Now you were even more confused. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I spent all night kickin' m'self for not...askin' you to let me come into your flat." His hands came out of his pockets as he stepped closer to you, his body inching against yours the same way he did last night. You froze looking up at him, taking a couple of steps back as he was almost pressing his tall body against yours. You were now trapped between his large figure and the bookshelf behind you. John's hands found their way to your waist and you felt a ragged breath against your face, the smell of cigars flowing into your nose. You shakily placed your own hands on his strong forearms. The proximity of his body against yours pooled arousal in your underwear. 

"J-John, I don't--" you stammered, confusion still persistent in your mind. He wanted to come inside with you, the same way you did? 

"I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you, dove," he purred, lips brushing against your own, the hairs of his mustache tickling your upper lip. "I know y'wanted me to come inside with you, I saw it in your pretty face... s'that right?" 

You nodded more hastily than you intended; your heart was beating out of your chest as your breath hitched. Fuck, did you want him, did you spend the rest of the night thinking of him, of the things he could have done to you if he had come inside. Your hands stroked up his arms and up to rest on his shoulders, gripping and lightly tugging the fabric of his jacket, as if beginning him to kiss you again in the seclusion of the bookshelves. 

He complied and gave you a deep all-consuming kiss that you drowned in like a flood. John pulled away but kept his nose against yours and whispered into your lips, "Let me make it up to you, so you can forgive me, yeah?" 

Your eyes widened as you watched the man kneel in front of you. His palms massaged the sides of your body, stroking the tender flesh of your outer thighs. He peered up at you with pleading, dark eyes, like a man begging for God's forgiveness on a church pew. You felt his burning touch on your skin, the sensation making your core flutter and dampen even more. 

"J-John, what are you--" you gasped when you felt the wetness of his lips over your thighs as he peppered kisses over the soft flesh. You didn't know what to do with your hands (or yourself, for that matter) so you settled them over his broad shoulders, unsure if you should push him away or if you wanted to pull him closer to let him do whatever it is he wanted to do. 

" 'M just apologizin', pretty girl," he cooed against your thigh. His hands scaled up your thighs, slithering under your mini skirt, grabbing the waistband of your knickers and dragging them down painfully slow, making sure to graze his knuckles against your skin. You watched his movements and he watched your flustered expressions react to every one of his actions.

When your knickers reached your ankles he helped you delicately step out of them, and he pervertedly pocketed the garment with a light smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't worry, I'll give 'em back to you next time, sweetheart." was all he said in that regard. Your pussy twitched at the gesture, making you bite your lip coyly as a small moan escaped you.

John folded the hem of your skirt up lightly as he kissed the inside of your thighs, teasingly close to your sopping sex. He gave the plump flesh light nips to taunt you further, loving the sounds that came out of you every time he did so. His rough hands kneaded at the flesh of your thighs before hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, making your bare cunt more exposed for him, granting him access.

You gasped when he buried his face between your legs, your skirt masking the rest of his face except for those clear blue eyes that feigned innocence as they peered up at you. His lips kissed your sex tenderly, the same way they had kissed your mouth just moments ago. You let out a low moan at the sensation, his facial hair brushing over your vulva made you shiver. Another tender kiss was planted against your slit, followed by another, and another. 

"John," you begged, desperation surging in you. And who was he to deny you anything? So to please the pretty girl's request, his flattened tongue slowly lapped at your lips. You threw your head back, a slow moan emanating from your throat, and your fists clenching on the fabric on his shoulders. 

"Fuckk, your pretty moans, baby," his voice was muffled. Another slow swipe of his hot tongue, this time the tip of his tongue was pointed and it slid between your folds, caressing your pleading clitoris. It made you jump lightly, and it only prompted him to lick over the sensitive bud even more.

Now the man hungrily licked your pussy, paying utmost attention to your swollen clit. His hands firmly held your thighs as he smothered himself with your cunt. The pace of his tongue quickened, and not an inch of your pussy was left untouched by his mouth. 

You were made a mess of indecent moans as John devoured you, your hips lightly rutting against his face. You mentally thanked the security camera guy for not showing up to fix them, and you prayed that everyone passing by would read the 'Closed' sign and that the bookshelves shielded any outsider from the sinful act going on between you and John. 

John alternated between piercing his tongue into the entrance of your pussy and suckling on your desperate clit. His eyes closed as he lost himself in your pussy, humming in pleasure as he savored your taste and drank in your moans. His hands snaked up your torso to knead at the tender flesh of your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your pointed nipples through the fabric of your shirt. 

"Perfect fuckin' pussy, baby...so fuckin' sweet," he said, not removing his mouth from you. You whined, one of your hands coming to grip at the hair on the crown of his head, pressing him further against your cunt which made him moan and go absolutely mad. He grabbed the underside of your thighs and draped both of them over his shoulders; the only things supporting your body were John's strong arms and the shelf behind you. Your other hand gripped the shelf behind you to find some leverage. 

John was drunk on your juices, fervently eating you out. One of his hands snaked under you to press two thick digits against your entrance. His lips sucked mercilessly at your clit as he pumped your pussy with his fingers now. You practically screamed his name when you felt the intrusion. 

"Love hearin' you say my name like that, sweetheart," he slurred, his fingers curling within your walls and pressing against that spongey spot inside of you that made you roll your eyes to the back of your head. You were so fucking close and John knew it. 

"Be good 'n cum for me, darlin', he moaned, becoming more and more desperate to feel you clench around his fingers, to feel your juices coat his face. 

And you did just that. With a few more pumps of his fingers and more laps of his tongue on your pussy, you were sent over the edge. You let out a final choked-out moan as your body convulsed against the shelf. Your thighs tightened and quaked around John's head the same way your walls clenched tightly around his fingers.

He hummed against your sex, slowing down as he let you ride your orgasm on his face and fingers; your slick dripping down your thighs and onto his face. Those ocean eyes lovingly watched your face contort as you reached your high. But you were too lost in euphoria to even notice; your body was almost going limp in John's hold and all you felt was overwhelming pleasure crashing over you. 

You cursed breathlessly, trying to gather yourself. As you slowly came to, you could hear John's soft praises against your thigh, "Did so good f'me, love... my sweet girl." He planted tender, innocent kisses against your flesh as he praised you. He delicately helped you stand up on your own. He rose up to his full height and held you, offering you support on your shaky legs. 

"Alright, darlin'?" he said, to which you nodded your head and managed to find your bearings. John chuckled at the sight of your helpless self. Something sadistic in him enjoying watching you like this, depending on him, basically. 

You looked up at him, your pupils were still blown and your face was hot. That damned kind smile of his was plastered on his face, but there was a hint of malice hiding behind it. Smug bastard, you thought. You couldn't find any words to say to him, realizing what you just let this man do to you in the middle of your store. 

"All's forgiven, then, love?" he had the nerve to say, smoothing the flyaways on your hair and brushing his knuckles over your cheek tenderly. You nodded sheepishly. You didn't even know what you were really forgiving him for, you were never upset with him to begin with, but with the indulgent pleasure he had just given you, you didn't mind forgiving him more often.

You averted his gaze, opting to look at your feet in embarrassment. And it was then that you caught a glimpse of the tightness in his pants. His hardened member peered back at you in the confines of his jeans. You looked up at him, cheeks flushed, silently asking him if he needed you to take care of him in return when your hand reached to palm him. He hummed, but his hand engulfed yours and brought it to his lips, giving them a soft kiss, beard still damp with your juices. 

"Leave that f'next time, pretty," he chuckled. Next time, you thought, if it was anything like this then you couldn't wait for next time. You were already pining for more of John after having just finished all over his face. 

You moved your hand and placed it on his cheek wordlessly; he leaned into your touch as he looked at you lovingly. 

"Can I kiss you again, John?" you stammered shyly, your tone hushed.

The man chuckled, "Of course you can," leaning in to crash his lips on yours. You tasted yourself in his mouth, smelled yourself soaked into his beard. The kiss was soft but prolonged as if he was getting ready to say bye once again. 

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment. You completely forgot where you were and that you had a shift to start, but you didn't mind forgetting if it involved staying with John like this the rest of the day. Except John had to snap you out of your fantasy when he whispered to you that he had to go. You nodded your head, the most you could fathom to respond with lately. 

The man gave you another chaste kiss on your lips, then a peck on your nose, and a last one on your forehead before he announced his departure and went on his way out the door. 

You stood there recalling what just happened, burying your beet-red face into your hands as you squealed. The absence of your panties became evident all of a sudden as well and it only increased your ever-growing embarrassment. You decided no one was going to die over the shop being closed for the day as you gathered your things and dashed out the door, locking up before leaving, of course. No way you'd work comando with just a skirt, you thought, and no way you'd work after all that just happened in the very business you ran. 

On your way back to your apartment you smiled to yourself, biting your lip as you thought about John. You thought about how no man in your life had ever done something like that, much less made you feel that good. 

John was bringing out a side of you that you didn't know existed.

[daggerspare-standingby]

THE CHASE - PART 7 | Hangman x Reader

Running high off the endorphins of your amazing first date with Jake, and the happy ending to your evening as well. Except it leaves you with more questions as to what you and Jake actually are, and as you're about to enjoy a day on the beach until you let some intrusive thoughts enter your mind. Jake makes sure to let you know exactly how he feels and what the two of you are.

2602 Words!

WARNINGS: this part does feature some body image insecurities, I try to make my stories as inclusive as I can - hence why I don't generally post too many descriptive terms about reader. And I try to put a little bit of myself into my writing, I have experienced my own body image insecurities, but please remember to be kind to yourself, and that every body is beautiful. <3

You woke up feeling like a completely different person. You had managed to get all your chores done after breakfast, including putting away the laundry that seemed to pile up on the chair in the corner of your room. All the while you thought about your date with Jake, he had been a perfect gentleman. Followed by the kiss on your front porch and him telling you to ask him to leave, the butterflies seemed to constantly flutter in your stomach when you thought of it. Of course then there was the phone sex. Something you’d never done, but now that you had, you were surprised that you enjoyed it as much as you did. You were really looking forward to seeing him at the bar at some point this week, but you didn’t know when the next day would be. There was a small part of you that wasn’t sure how he was going to react. It being a Monday, you weren’t expecting a text from Nat as you donned a bikini and sundress. You were about to head down to the beach by the bar, catch some sun and get some reading done. 

Nat: Picking you up in 15, Beach Day. Too Hot to fly.

You shrugged and texted back a quick thumbs up emoji before tying your hair back in a neat braid to keep it off your neck and away from your face. You threw your beach towel, sunscreen, and the latest book you were reading into your bag and brushed your teeth. What you didn’t think about, was that it being too hot to fly meant that the whole squad was heading to the beach too. 

Nat honked from your driveway exactly 15 minutes after her text, the top and doors removed from her red jeep, Bob in the passenger seat gave you a small wave. You waved back with a smile, locking up and slipping your hat and sunglasses on before making your way to the car and hopping in the back seat “Hi friends! This is a nice surprise” Before pulling out onto the road, Nat turned to face you “so what happened with you and Hangman, because he's actually been a decent human being today.” You hadn’t expected a question period and wasn’t sure exactly where you stood with your relationship with Jake or what he had told his colleagues. “What do you mean?” You thanked goodness that your sunglasses were hiding the nervousness in your eyes. Bob clocked your tenseness in the mirror “Nat, come on, let’s head to the beach, we still need to stop at the gas station for ice for the coolers.” Nat narrowed her eyes at you from overtop her sunglasses and then pushed them back into place “fine, but I will find out.” She threw the jeep into drive and pulled out onto the street heading down to the beach by the Hard Deck. 

Nat pulled her Jeep in next to Bradley’s Bronco and you saw Jake’s truck a couple spots down, suddenly feeling nervous. How were you supposed to greet him when you saw him? You shook it off and figured you would let him take the lead. Nat and Bob grabbed the cooler out of the back, while you took their bags and the three of you maneuvered your way through the sand and through other beach goers as you headed to the spot that your friends had claimed with multiple umbrellas, blankets, coolers and towels. Some of the squad was tossing a football around, some were already relishing the cool of the ocean, but two aviators you didn’t see were Bradley and Jake. You set your bag down and laid out your towel, figuring they would show up sooner or later. Nat and Callie brought their bags over to you as well and Bob set up an umbrella to provide some shade, which he quickly occupied. You slip off your sundress while you chat with your friends and begin applying sunscreen to your arms, legs, stomach and face. When you looked over your shoulder, you saw Jake and Bradley making their way through the sand each with a hold on a cooler. 

Jake had gone with Rooster to grab ice and drinks from the hard deck - Penny had given them permission to do so and they were on their way back to the group when you arrived with Nat and Bob. Jake could make your form out a million miles away and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t puff out his chest a little bit. He hadn’t told his colleagues about your date, obviously except for Javy, and he hadn’t told a soul about your late night phone call. He had no idea how you wanted to go about this, whatever this thing between the two of you was. You had only gone on one date last night, sure he was down bad for you, infatuated, obsessed (in a good way), in love - he would never admit that last one, not yet anyways. But you hadn’t established what you were, and that’s what he desperately wanted to do, and he wanted to yell it to the entire pacific ocean and the whole beach that he had a girlfriend. He wanted to kiss you in front of his friends and flip them the bird when they whistled at you both. He wanted to come home to you at the end of the day. As they got closer to the group, they set the cooler down in the shade next to Bob and Jake’s eyes met yours. You raised your eyebrow in a silent challenge and you certainly didn’t miss the way his gaze slowly raked down your frame, making goosebumps erupt over your entire body by saying just two words “Hey Darlin’”.

Damn him. Damn him and his sweet accent and the nickname he had for you that held entirely new meaning now, damn him and his ridiculously defined muscular chest and abs. You tilted your head slightly with a small smile on your face “next time I need to lift the heavy beer cases, I know who to call” you nodded towards the cooler that he and Bradley set down. Bradley grinned at you and flexed his arms “anytime sweetheart, just give me a call.” You laughed as you picked up your sunscreen “yeah I’ll just crow from the bar and you’ll pop right up.” Bradley laughed along with you and then ran off to join the game of football that had picked up, taking Bob and Jake with him. You watched their retreating forms, and let out a small sigh as you applied your sunscreen and lay out on your towel. A small twinge of disappointment that Jake said absolutely nothing beyond those two words to you. 

Jake wiped the sweat from his brow - the heat was really blaring down on them and he thanked Cyclone or whoever pulled the strings that they allowed them the day off, if they were flying today they’d surely burn up in their cockpits. They had played a couple games of football and now their stomachs were rumbling. Jake hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to you at all yet, and he was getting anxious. You spent most of the day alternating between the sun and reading in the shade. He always strategically had an eye on you throughout every game and as they wound down this last match, he watched as Bradley jogged over to you and then held out his hand to you, helping you stand up. Jake’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, wondering Rooster's intentions. He couldn’t do anything but watch as you smiled and started walking towards the beach hut in stride with Bradley. 

You were minding your own business reading your book when Bradley approached you, sweaty and sun kissed and his aviators perched crookedly on his nose. “Wanna come to the beach hut with me to grab some lunch?” He asked as he held his hand out to you. Your stomach grumbled loudly and you both laughed “I guess that’s a yes” You took his outstretched hand and he helped you up, and you both began making your way over to the small snack hut. “I can’t believe you guys are running around in this heat.” Bradley laughed “it beats being in a heavy flight suit and pack and sitting basically in a giant magnifying glass.” You nodded, thinking about it “yeah I guess you’re right.” Bradley smiled at you and gestured for you to order first, and then proceeded to order and pay for both of your meals. “Bradley, you didn’t have to do that” He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his jean short pockets “I wanted to. Maybe sometime you’ll let me buy you something more than a burger on the beach?” His sincere brown eyes peeked at you over his sunglasses and you couldn’t help the way your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “I um, that’s really nice of you Bradley…” Your mind was racing for an excuse, “I do really appreciate that, but I’m kind of seeing someone?” You couldn’t help the inflection of questioning that was at the end of that sentence and winced slightly. Bradley pushed his sunglasses up his nose “and you see me as just a friend right?” You couldn't help but nod “I’m really sorry, I can give you the money back for lunch-” he shook his head, a small smile on his face “nah, it’s alright. I just figured I would shoot my shot, but also because Hangman has been staring at you all day and I bet my next paycheck that he’s been watching us since we left.” You laughed lightly, nervously, “There’s nothing going on with me and Jake.” The server called your food number, and Bradley’s grin grew “I never said there was.” He jogged off to grab the food order and returned with the bag for both of you “I’m not sure what happened between you two, and I don’t really want to know, but he’s actually being a decent human being today and what happens on the ground usually translates to the air so” Bradley shrugged as you made your way back to the group. 

You were smiling and laughing with Bradley, in a conversation Jake could only see, and not hear as you made your way back to the towels and blankets they had set up. His chest burned with a feeling he could only guess was jealousy, he had never felt this way about anyone before and it was a little bit scary. He watched you smiling with Bradshaw and wished more than anything it was him you were smiling at. The part that ate at him more was the fact that he could easily change that, and make that happen. And he had half the mind to go over to Bradshaw and his stupid mustache and stupid jean shorts and tell him to get away from his girl. He was about to do just that when a few girls in bikinis came right up to him and began chatting with him. He was trying to step around them when one of them put her hand on his chest and he stiffened, he didn’t like this feeling.

You watched as the pretty girls in bikinis walked right up to Jake as if they owned the beach, they were talking with him and it seemed friendly enough, at least until one of them put their hand right on Jake’s chest and you felt the flame of jealousy light and begin burning deep in your chest. Jake didn’t make any additional movements or move to push them away, and you weren’t sure what bothered you more. You sat down on the blanket and began eating your lunch, but the burger you ordered suddenly seemed less than appealing, as the girls in the skimpy bikinis and flat tummies and big boobs turned up the charm flirting with Jake. You put your burger back in the bag and pulled on your coverup, picking at your french fries and watching Jake give the skimpy bikini girls attention that you wanted. You missed the knowing looks that Bradley, Bob and Natasha shared behind your back.

As the sun went down hours later, the games of football died out, Skin pink from the heat and the boys built a bonfire. You kept to yourself most of the day after the two girls were so openly flirting with Jake. They had left giggling not long after and you mainly kept your nose buried in your book, and only briefly looked in on the football game when a particularly loud cheer rang out. Now you were seated next to the fire wearing your sundress and nursing a bottle of beer. You were watching the flames dance along the logs similarly to how jealousy danced along your skin earlier today. You had no right, there was nothing that tied you to him besides a really good first date and a late night phone call. It stung a little bit, that he hadn’t really said a word to you all day, he certainly didn’t instill confidence in his promises from last night. You were so focused on the thoughts running through your head and staring into the flames that you hadn’t heard anyone approach until they cleared their throat. “Darlin, can we talk?” 

You jumped out of your skin and Jake winced “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You shook your head and gestured to the log beside you with a nod before raising the beer to your lips and taking a swig. “Guess we can only talk in the dark then, too embarrassed to speak more than two words to me during the day?” He detected the sadness and disappointment in your voice and his heart squeezed. He had hurt you, by being selfish and in his own head about Bradshaw and doubting your connection, he’d inadvertently caused you pain. “Darlin, let me get one thing straight, I am not, and let me emphasize not, embarrassed about you at all.” He made a move to reach for your hand that was resting on the log and relished in the fact that you didn’t immediately take it away from him. “You seemed pretty interested in talking to those skimpy bikini girls earlier… if that’s what you want Jake you should just tell-“ “absolutely fucking not don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Your mouth snapped shut, and you watched as he took a deep breath with his eyes closed and then opened them, meeting yours intensely. “The only girl I want in a bikini around me is you… I wanted to talk to you about it all day and there just never seemed to be a good time. We never really established what this was going to be” He gestured between you two before squeezing your hand “but the long and short of it Darlin’ I want you to be my girl. I want to be able to tell all the other girls that you’re mine, I wanna kiss you in public and show you off and I really really don’t wanna see Rooster flirting his ass off with you.” You waited until he let out a breath like he had gotten a weight off his chest and you stood up in front of him. A look of worry flashed across his face for a moment as he raised his gaze to yours “well then, what are you waiting for Seresin. Kiss me.”

--

TagList

@horseshoegirl

@dizzybee03

@shanimallina87

@kmc1989

@lynnevanss

@midnightmagpiemama

@djs8891

@blue-aconite

@rosiahills22

@hecate-steps-on-me

@cherrycola27

@roosterforme

@roosterbruiser

@beyondthesefourwalls

@paigewinchester67

@potatothatcanwrite

@theharddeck

@thedroneranger

@hangmandruigandmav

@86laura11

@themusingofagothicsoul

@wayward-river

@perfectprettypisces

@auntiegigi

@littleenglishfangirl

[other-shades-of-sapphire]

Kibbles – Lee Know

Minho x high school friend turned girlfriend Iris, circa January 2020

Of how Minho realized for the very first time that he was in love already. 

The realization hit Minho as early on as his first date with Iris, and it was not for any of the reason he would suspect. They were high school friends, not to mention him having a crush on her on almost the entirety of those years, so he had his guesses on which particular trait of her would deem him done for. But boy, how far off his guesses were. 

They went to a coffee shop and spent the whole said first date there. To this day, Minho still insisted he originally had a cooler plan for their date, but didn't get the chance to proceed because he'd enjoyed talking with Iris too much – to which Iris still teased him to this day. Despite her teasing, Minho knew she'd enjoyed the date as much as he had. She'd always had a rather awful ability to put up a poker face, so her smiles and laughs just could not be mistaken for a fake. She'd also looked genuinely crestfallen by the time they finally had to go because it was almost midnight and the coffee shop was closing. 

"Don't be too sad," Minho teased when he walked her from the subway station to her apartment building. "We'll go somewhere cool next time." 

"So there will be a next time?" 

Minho mentally cursed himself. "Uh, with how things are going so far, I think there should be a next time? Unless I'm reading things wrong?" 

"It's not that," Iris quickly said. "A-plus in reading. It's just... I thought it might be a little... complicated? With you being a pro idol and all." 

Despite her teasing tone at his self-claimed title of "pro idol", Minho felt his heart fell. The entire day he spent with Iris, it was so easy to forget who he was and what he did for a living; Iris was someone from his ordinary life, too familiar and comfortable that he was just simply a Lee Minho when he was with her. Her question brought the idol Lee Know back, along with the hundreds of complications that came with him. Even though he wasn't on a dating ban anymore, dating for him would never be not complicated. There were a lot of things to navigate and consider, and on top of it all he didn't know whether Iris would be okay with them all, or whether she would be interested enough to try it out with him. He understood all too well that putting up with him was no easy feat. 

Suddenly realizing he'd gone too deep in his thoughts, Minho turned to face Iris – and didn't find her. His heart fell even further; did she freak out already and decided to run off when she still could? "Iris?" 

"Here," came her faint voice. Minho turned and found her a couple meters behind him, kneeling to look at something on the ground. As Minho approached her, he realized that she was petting two stray cats who seemed to be fighting for her attention. 

The sight did something to Minho. He'd known Iris was a cat person since their high school days, but this was the first time he saw the proof right before his own eyes, and it was an entirely different thing. He stood at his place, mesmerized, as Iris kept playing and making small conversations with the cats. Then she reached to her bag, pulled out a small container, poured the content of it into her hand, and only when she lowered her hand to the cats and they sniffed it with high interest did Minho realize it was cat food. 

She had a container of cat food in her bag, and was now feeding it to stray cats, directly from her hand. 

Another thing he realized: he was in love already. 

His heart pounding and his mind racing, he tried to process the sudden realization and what to do about it. His eyes were still trained on Iris and the cats, though he was no longer really seeing them anymore; not that he needed to anyway, now that the image was already imprinted on his head possibly for eternity. 

He barely noticed when Iris bid the cats goodbye, got back to her feet, cleaned her hands with a wet wipe. The next thing he knew, she was already standing in front of him. "You okay?" 

"Do you trust me?" he blurted. 

She raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Of course. What do you have in mind?" 

There was still a mountain of things to navigate and consider, but Minho thought they could try figuring them out along the way. The most important thing right now was to let her know. 

So he kissed her. 

coming up next

Find more stories from Minho & Iris and the rest of Stray Kids here!

[kedsandtubesocks]

Erika!! 🫣

Baseball Joel has permanently moved into my brain and I need to hold you accountable for my latest maladaptive daydream obsession.

I’ve got a kiddo in baby baseball now and I’m sitting here dying in the heat thinking about retired!Joel becoming Little League Coach!Joel and—

anyway. thanks for permanently altering my brain 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Lovely Toni this asks is now taking permanent residency in my heart oh my goodness THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭😫

And hold me accountable omg I’m dying LOL

My baby sister played little league since she was in 2nd grade so you are tugging right at my heart string! Plus Im melting extra hard knowing your little kiddo is also in the league!! Stay hydrated during those long hot games!

And OOOF!! Okay but you’re not wrong 🥵

So - I blame the mlb all star game being on tonight and it being western theme…it was like it was made for Joel so this happened lol

game changer - timeout

MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

warnings/tags: fluff but all my works are 18+ so MDNI. hot sports dad joel, discussions of the future/light talk of having children, not highly edited I’m sorry rip

wc: ~600

There’s been more discussions about Joel reaching retirement age. All the sports announcers love to make jokes about him being older than some of the coaches in the league.

But the conversation comes up when you’re on the phone with him while he waits for his flight. Joel talks about free agency and how his agents have been discussing options.

“Well…what do you wanna do after it all?” You ask quietly.

Joel sighs shakily, and you’re about to quickly reassure him that he doesn’t need to tell you. But he beats you to it.

“Could be an analyst.” He comments with a soft hum. “A lot of the guys say I’m good at breaking things down.”

He is, always patiently explaining parts of the game to you.

“Coaching has always been an option too,” he explains. “I know UT Austin’s always been houndin’ me ‘bout it.”

You’d love for him to be back in Texas permanently, even if it is hours away.

“You could coach little league.” You warmly offer.

Joel chuckles.

“Trust me, thought about it when Sarah and Ellie played. But I think I’d probably would’ve gotten into fights with other coaches.” His tone is light, a bit dryly humored, but you easily catch the fondness within.

Your mind trips over itself over the thought of Joel, looking so handsome, being such a firm sports dad, packing ice coolers and folding chairs, cheering loud at the game or even coaching - it rips open something wild and raw in you.

You don’t even try to fully process it, and instead shove it to the back of your mind.

“You’d be an amazing coach. For whichever team you end up at.” You truthfully tell him.

“Thanks, baby.”

“Maybe I’ll go coach for your university.” He suddenly offers low, but deep with an underlying hint of possibilities. That snaps your spine straight.

“Oh yeah?” You grin back through the phone.

He hums faintly playful. If Joel ever ended up coming to Houston you’d never get any work done.

“Maybe I’ll become an umpire.” He suggests, and you do think of how Joel would even look hot as hell with the protective face mask on.

“You’d be awful.” You tease. “You’d let the power go to your head.”

“Would fuckin’ not!” He barks back, and you laugh, warmth swirling in your chest.

“Whatever you decide, I know you’ll be great at it.” You simmer Joel down with your sincere words.

“Y’think so?” He’s being shyly coy. “Okay with stickin’ around with me for that long?”

His words make your heart flutter.

“Don’t plan on going anywhere, Cowboy Miller.” You quietly but firmly tell him, feeling your words solidify resolve in you.

“Hopin’ ya don’t either.” Joel admits soft, almost a whisper.

You swallow hard, feeling the image of him at the little league fields, a sleek fully silver fox Joel possibly holding a soft baby in his arms or coaching from third base… you can’t shake it.

“I’m still hoping to see little league coach Joel to make his appearance.” Those words slip up from you.

Joel weakly laughs.

“Yeah? Think that’s a whole other option we’d be havin’ to discuss, honey.” Without anything in it, you understand his hidden meaning.

You don’t know where Joel stands with wanting more kids. And you’ll cross that bridge if you ever do arrive, but for right now, you can simply soak in the glory of knowing he wants a future with you. He wants to have you in his life.

“As long as it’s with you, I don’t mind.” You truthfully tell him.

Joel breathes out your name, a soft beautiful reassuring tone, and it makes your soul feel like it’s been hit out of the ballpark.

[keouil]

no hymns to our glory

“he’s the spitting image of oikawa,” suga notes sadly, eyes going over kageyama. “do you think he realizes it?” 2k. oikawa/iwaizumi/kageyama. also on ao3.

i.

like matryoshka, one inside another inside another inside another—

Start at the beginning: idol worship, as clear as a riverpond in the summer. Kageyama first meets god between the four dimensions of a volleyball court. This god who moved like the wind and quicksilver, lithe grace in his legs that just flew.

He was a living, breathing, flying thing of a force; and hadn’t Kageyama always wondered what it would be like to soar?

-

Iwaizumi is the first to notice.

“What the hell,” he says as much one day, going over their usual drills and stopping short when he notices Kageyama do a routine just exactly so. “Is he—?”

“Maa,” Kindaichi murmurs in agreement beside him, shoulders caved awkwardly inside himself like his body still didn’t know how to catch up with it’s rapidly expanding frame. They were all growing, day by day. “We saw him practicing a jump serve yesterday after seeing Oikawa-san do it.”

“No, no,” Iwaizumi disagrees, shaking his head like he’s trying to come to terms with what he just saw. “That’s not it. I think—I mean. Don’t you think it looks familiar?”

“What does?” asks Oikawa, a faint glimmer of sweat marring his skin as he comes up to their side. His eyes trace their gaze and Iwaizumi feels, more than hears, the surprised hitch in his breath. 

“Huh,” Oikawa ponders. “I didn’t know Tobio-chan could jump that high.”

Iwaizumi eyes him carefully, delicately; like spun silk on a web. He has to play his cards right while time is still on his side. It’s likely Oikawa didn’t see Kageyama’s form just before sprinting, very likely didn’t clock the way he spun the ball exactly one rotation before bringing it over his head like a mantra. Very likely, but all the same, not impossible. 

“He can’t,” Iwaizumi says instead.

Oikawa isn’t even listening to him. There is his own spun gold in his eyes now, like little traces of starlight coming alive on a barren winter sky.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, gushing and dazed, still impossibly optimistic at the possibilities of what this means for the team, for Shiratorizawa, for Ushikawa. Less so first—and this is important—for himself. “I think we’re going to have a good year.”

-

“You seriously don’t see it?”

Oikawa is drenched in sweat, slippery fingers assembling the net after their practice match with Johzenji. They won, of course; Kindaichi is still fairly shy and nowhere near as assertive as he should for someone his height, but he’s been working daily with Oikawa to at least perfect his spikes. Kunimi is a double-edged sword he’s only more motivated than ever to polish, that thrill of wielding him like a surprise attack at the end of the match still so fulfilling. 

And Kageyama: Kageyama who keeps growing an inch taller everyday, who is putting in more hours than anyone else bar Oikawa himself, who is tirelessly asking him for tips at the start and end of each practice. Kageyama who Coach is, for some reason, still keeping benched for further observation.

“See what?” Oikawa parrots back, folding the net.

Kageyama is somewhere by the water coolers, standing awkwardly next to Kunimi and Kindaichi as he waits for instructions on how he can help. Iwaizumi has half the mind to put the kid out of his misery and beckon him over to help them with court clean up, but Oikawa is still in a generally good mood, and he knows souring it by inviting an underclassman over will bite him in the ass later on.

“He’s eyeing to be a setter like you,” says Iwaizumi, gesturing to the 3K trio behind them. “Did you know that?”

“Of course I do,” Oikawa scoffs, standing up straighter. “What kind of captain do you think I am?”

“One who has rejected every single chance to hone your successor,” Iwaizumi responds irately. “I still don’t get it. He’s the next best thing on this team. It’s going to be a walk in the park and the kid already worships the ground you walk on.”

“Does he now?” Oikawa feigns ignorance, widening his eyes in mock surprise. “I never noticed.”

“Quit the sarcasm,” is all Iwaizumi says in warning, eyes slanting to a glare and his grip tightening on the mop. “It doesn’t work on me.”

Oikawa raises his arms in surrender in a placating gesture. “Worth a try?"

“Just,” Iwaizumi starts, unsure. Trying not to notice Kageyama looking their way for the nth time. “At least throw the boy a bone, would you?”

Oikawa lets his hands drop, smiling in that infuriating way. 

“We’ll see.”

-

Oikawa doesn’t. 

He doesn’t even so much as glance Kageyama’s way during their practices and is even more neurotic about his training. He doesn’t care much about anyone or anything else that’s not to do with volleyball these days, first to arrive and latest to leave every single day. He plays every single game—practice or real—within an inch of his life and then, even then and especially then, when his stamina is critically low and his lungs are burning through their remaining oxygen: he digs deeper than he’s ever dug through his last reserves and pushes through.

Iwaizumi has never seen such dying, almost crippling devotion before; has never seen Oikawa burn himself through so frantically and without regard like he’ll die if he won’t. He can’t keep up with him, no one can, and half his anger is towards their coach for just letting it happen. 

Generational talent in the making, he said of Oikawa and Kageyama. What good is all that if they have to kill themselves trying to make it happen?

It’s not until a particularly brutal practice match with a powerhouse middle school, that Oikawa plays with speed and not his usual grace, trying to catch up with goddamn Ushikawa; that he does break. His knee gives out. Kageyama is subbed in. Iwaizumi has to force himself to concentrate and see the game through.

“What the fuck were you doing,” demands Iwaizumi as soon he enters the clinic, chest heaving and sweat trickling down his entire body. His body was still running hot, adrenaline in his blood pumping his anger higher and higher and higher. “I know you want to be buried with volleyball and marry it or whatever, but what the fuck.”

Oikawa is in a similarly pissy mood, not meeting his eyes and staring down at his fisted hands. “I was just trying something.”

“No, you weren’t,” snaps Iwaizumi, coming up to his bedside. His knee was propped up and bandaged but the bruising in his ego was far worse. “You were rushing, you fucking prick. You never rush. Aren’t you always yelling at us to not panic and slow down? That speed is the biggest enemy a player will ever have in the court?”

Oikawa doesn’t reply. Stubborn, foolish, selfish, entitled, self-destructive prick—

“Who won?” asks Oikawa instead, breaking the silence.

Iwaizumi breathes once, twice. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

That breaks the ice. Oikawa rolls his eyes at him childlishly, but deflates a little. A little spring of clarity streams it’s way to his eyes. 

“And so?” he prompts. “How was Tobio?”

Iwaizumi has to be careful. He can’t tell him exactly what he wants to; that Kageyama, short for a word, was beautiful. There was no going around it. Even Ushijima was taken aback for second, which was absolutely the best compliment you could ever pry from him. Kageyama played and set and spiked and moved in a pattern so familiar to Iwaizumi he’s seen it play out in his head since they were children: quick like the wind and lithe as quicksilver. 

He played, Iwaizumi surmises darkly and proudly, exactly like how Oikawa would.

“He was fine,” he says instead, not missing the way Oikawa’s eyes light up just a fraction at that. Out of relief his setter position wasn’t going to be compromised or pleased that his kouhai was able to hold the fort down in his absence? Iwaizumi doesn’t know. Oikawa, he knows for sure, doesn’t. 

But he adds, more as an afterthought, “You’re still better."

-

If Iwaizumi had been just a second too late, things would have played out so differently. If Iwaizumi hadn’t insisted on locking up instead of their coach because he knows for a fact his best friend was going to pull another all nighter, he would’ve walked in on an entirely different situation. When his steps slow near the gym as he registers Kageyama’s timid, almost shy voice asking, “Can you teach me a serve toss?” and registers the three beats of weighted silence as Oikawa’s most damning tell: Iwaizumi’s never ran as fast for anything in his life.

“Oikawa," he hisses when he makes it just so, voice deadly serious and a grip like forged steel. “Calm down.”

Oikawa isn’t processing anything.

He’s not seeing his hand just inches away from Kageyama’s stunned face, doesn’t see the look of incredulousness on his own as the reality of what he was just about to do start setting in, probably doesn’t even register his mouth moving before his head as it desperately, pathetically tries apologizing.

“T-tobio—” Oikawa starts shakily. 

Iwaizumi cuts him off. “I’ll deal with it.”

Summoning every bit of courage and sending the guilt away at letting things be this far gone, Iwaizumi braves himself for whatever he’s going to see when he turns to face Kageyama. 

Instead he sees a face that, like he guessed, missed the emotional brevity of what he was so closely just about to witness. He’d guessed Kageyama had just the slightest bit of trouble reading social cues for awhile. He had to get between regular fights between him and Kindaichi; Kindaichi like a firecracker once riled up, Kageyama refusing to back down out of sheer pride. Oikawa normally was quick to defuse any team rivalry or tension, but these days; well. 

“K-kageyama,” Iwaizumi forces out, cursing himself internally for wavering. “Sorry. Practice is done for today. I’ll–I’ll toss to you tomorrow, okay?”

Behind him he can feel Oikawa still spiralling, wheezing as he took in a ragged breath after breath. He was getting it, Iwaizumi knows, he was getting the reality everything he’d been doing was expanding itself and making allowances for his behaviours. Making hitting a thirteen-year-old justifiable. And Oikawa, youngest brother to a well-meaning sibling and loving family, knew which lines he’d never cross.

Kageyama cannot be here when he unravels.

Iwaizumi steps to the side when he sees Kageyama try to peek behind him, instead forcing a casual smile in his face. Kageyama doesn’t want his tosses, he knows this, doesn’t want anyone’s, really; not even the coach’s. He just wants Oikawa’s. Just like he wants to keep talking to him right now and is so knee-deep in his hunger for validation that he can’t even see his senior breaking right infront of him.

Iwaizumi will not blame him. 

Kageyama is all of thirteen. Oikawa and himself are all of fifteen, still so painfully young, he knows; but in this he will understand and repent and concede. He will recognize when he needs to be the bigger person and allow Oikawa to be as small as he needs to be right now. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Kageyama.” 

ii.

but there you are within the wood, within the water, you who have always gotten into everything, even the sugar.

Their first practice match with Karasuno is the most heartbreaking thing Iwaizumi has ever witnessed.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out in silent awe, and maybe a little confusion. “He still moves just like you.”

Beside him Oikawa is eerily silent, eyes assessing and examining and just burning through each and every one of Kageyama’s plays. He knows without asking that Oikawa is mentally cataloging each miniscule detail of his form: the four exact steps he takes before he jumps, the way he hangs in the air for exactly four seconds, nimble hands swinging over his head before he lands a punishing blow to the ball that sends it careening off the other side of the net. Out, it was, Oikawa knows instinctively. Because Kageyama moved exactly—down to the bone and the angle and the bodyline—exactly like he does. And a move like that would have fouled him for being out of bounds, the telling sound of a whistle blowing confirming just as much.

Kageyama is him. He’d known since the start.

“Isn’t that something,” Oikawa notes, sourly and quietly, like the bitter beginnings of a persimmon in fall.

-

Daichi notices much earlier than the rest of the team does, but it’s Suga who puts two and two together.

“I’ve always wondered how he could move like that,” Suga comments after the practice match as they’re walking back. “No doubt he’s a genius but—”

“He had to start from somewhere,” Daichi finishes, contemplative. “From someone.”

The first years are somewhere ahead of them, Hinata’s shrill voice calling Kageyama out for all the wrong plays he did today and taunting him with being off his game just because they were in the presence of the Former Great King. Yamaguchi is trying in vain to separate the two, aided helplessly by a taunting Tanaka who all but eggs Hinata on while Noya takes bets on who can land a punch before they get to the station.

“He’s the spitting image of Oikawa,” Suga notes sadly, eyes going over Kageyama. “Do you think he realizes it?”

“Oikawa definitely does,” Daichi remarks. “He was trying not to be obvious about it, but I saw the way he was looking over Kageyama’s serve. It’s the same way Coach Ukai assesses us. With distance, but, you know. Invested.”

“He calls Hinata boke,” Suga adds after some thought. “Ever notice that?”

“Everyone calls Hinata that,” grumbles Daichi, frowning. “I keep telling them to stop.”

“No,” Suga insists, facing him. “Tsukishima and the rest of the first years call him baka. It’s more common in their age group, don’t you think? But Kageyama. Kageyama calls him boke. I thought it was a weird word choice until today.”

Daichi pauses. “Until today?”

“You didn’t hear?” Suga smiles softly. “It’s exactly what Iwaizumi called Oikawa.”

iii.

there’ll be no hymns to our glory.

history has cut our throats.

The ride back to Aoba Johsai is quiet, the sun just shy of daybreak and tinging the bus in hues of pale gold and pink. A mellow song was playing on the radio, the sounds of cicadas chirping in the summer greeting them as they breeze past the highway.

Kunimi and Kindaichi are somewhere in the middle, talking respectfully among themselves about the practice match. Iwaizumi knows Oikawa is watching their progress preferentially more so than the others, owing it to their long shared history and captain title to have a personal investment in their development. They played well today, but they didn’t expect the Kageyama they saw. No one did.

“You’ve always had a soft spot for him,” Oikawa says suddenly, quiet, the sound of a sliding door against a tatami mat.

Iwaizumi turns to look at him, noting the lines of sun slipping into his features and tendering his already gentle expression. He knows who he’s talking about without asking. It’s how he also knows how much he projects when backed into a corner like he was today.

“Like you don’t.”

The corner of Oikawa’s lips curl just a little. “Me? Care for a kouhai?” he mock gasps. “Someone call the police.”

“What are you self-sabotaging for, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi bites back, adding matter-of-factly, “You’re a good captain. Everyone knows this or we wouldn’t have voted you into the position last year. You’re the only one who doesn’t believe it.”

“Best setter, best captain, best friend,” Oikawa waves him off with a flick of his hand, turning to look past the window and observe the rolling trees closing in. “Would be nice to be the best at any of those when it mattered.”

Iwaizumi has tried, really he has, to save him from this. Countless of times and nights and days. He can’t count how many times he’s said You didn’t mean it or Kageyama doesn’t seem to be scarred when he’d been talking him off that metaphorical cliff he drove himself to sometimes. But the truth of it all was that Oikawa has never really forgiven himself for that night, and three years after the fact, Iwaizumi has forgiven himself for knowing he can’t be the one to do the forgiving for him. They both owe Kageyama an apology.

But it breaks Oikawa’s heart, Iwaizumi knows, seeing so much of his likeness in Kageyama.

It’s a weird position to be in, having so much of your soul mirrored back to you in near flawless fashion without consent. Oikawa is forever going to live inside Kageyama; in his relationship with the ball, in his gentle touches of reverence to it, in his respect for what and how to make it work for you instead of against you. In the dip of his fingers as soon as he makes contact with the ball and the mere seconds before he sets it. In the angle of his body, utilizing his long limbs and long torso. In the set of his shoulders just before he flies up to the ground, feeling the wings carry him to a place of reverence and relishing in that split-second fascination of looking at the others below in full confidence it was his own glide that took him there. 

Oikawa is going to live inside Kageyama forever. 

Oikawa: his then and maybe now, his legacy and likelihood and soul; all planted inside Kageyama’s reflexes, taking root from somewhere so deep it’s going to be impossible to hone the kid’s skills otherwise without calling back to whatever he taught himself observing him. 

But someday this will change. 

Some day Kageyama will learn he was moving in the shoes of another, someone he thought was the absolute best to emulate and have been painstakingly trying to match himself to down to the bone. Before he realizes that the absolute best he could ever try to replicate was always himself. Someday he is going to evolve and fly higher than even he himself thought he could. Some day he is going to be the living, breathing, flying embodiment of a thing made up of his every nightmare.

Oikawa just has to be ready to soar even higher. 

[berryhobii]

i’ve been really into street racing.

hobi is reader’s boyfriend and he takes us out to the track one night to be the count down girl.

maybe you can have him go up against one of the other boys. maybe one of them tries to taunt hobi by flirting with us.

you can decide whether he wins or not but either way he gets some lovin’. also you can dictate if it’s just a kiss, heavy petting, or full blown smut.

i’m not super picky; i just wanna see some rivalry and fast cars😭

Hi! Thanks for your request! I don’t know much about cars or street racing outside of movies so I don’t know how accurate most of this is but I did my best! I really hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think! Much love🩵🩵

~

The summer air was surprisingly cool against your brown skin. The sun had disappeared hours ago, making way for the beaming light of the moon to illuminate the dark overpass.

Everyone was off in their own worlds, beers and wine coolers being tossed back and discarded on the concrete, joining multiple cigarette butts and condom wrappers.

Pulling your compact mirror out of your purse, you double checked your carefully done makeup. Hot damn, you looked fine as hell. This was a special night. It was only appropriate that you looked your best.

“Princess.”

Snapping your mirror closed, you were met with the panty dropping image of your boyfriend in all his leather clad glory—leather jacket, fingerless gloves, even a pair of leather pants that made his bulge look particularly delicious. This outfit alone deserved a blowjob. Good thing you sprang for smear proof lipstick.

As if he could read your mind, he snapped his fingers to get your attention, your eyes reluctantly lifting to meet his. “My eyes are up here, princess.”

You smirked, reaching out to hook a finger in his belt loops to pull him closer. You leaned your head back to stare alluringly into his own, your cat like lashes fluttering. “Well my eyes are down there so I guess we’re at an impasse.”

He rolled his eyes at your vulgarity but you knew he wasn’t really annoyed at you, his own smirk tugging at his lips.

He cupped your cheek, thumb stroking over your plump bottom lip. At the movement, your mouth wrapped around the digit, giving it a light suck. He could feel his own cock jump at the sight but he couldn’t let himself get horny here. Not now. No matter how tempting you were.

“Aish, you’re impossible. Save it until after the race.” He sighed but not before pressing hard on your tongue making you gag a little. That tiny display of dominance went right to your cunt, the thin panties you were wearing already soaked through.

“I’ve been saving it since we left the house.” You purred, your index finger trailing along his bulge through his pants. He shivered and cursed under his breath. You were dangerous—very very dangerous.

“Hey Jung! Maybe you should be more worried about blowing the race instead of getting blown by your girl!” The deep voice of Kim Taehyung called from the other side of the overpass. Laughter reigned from his posse, his hooded eyes sparkling with mirth at calling out his rival.

Your eyes glanced from them back to Hoseok who was already glaring at the man he would be competing against tonight. No one got under Hoseok’s skin like Taehyung did, that smug bastard was still riding the high of winning the last race which left them tied.

Tonight, Hoseok would wipe that cocky smirk right off that rich boy’s face.

“Hey baby, why don’t you come over here with a real winner? I’ll show you a good time.” He whistled at you, eyes locked in a fierce battle with Hoseok. He was taunting him, loud and clear in front of everybody. Hoseok didn’t mind a little trash talk but he drew the line when people disrespected you.

You knew Hoseok better than anyone and you could tell by his face that he was reaching his breaking point.

Standing from the hood of his car, you brought your hand to his cheek to turn his face to you. “Hoseok, baby.”

That fire was burning in this eyes, that unflappable spirit and unwavering confidence that you fell in love with spreading like liquid fire through his veins.

“You get out there and win. I want to rub that bastard’s face in it.”

The sneer on his lip was gone, replaced by a wolfish grin, one that told you he was ready to go.

Gripping your ass over your mini skirt and giving it a hard squeeze, he pulled you closer to his body, the heat radiating from him sinking into your bones.

“I will, princess. Then I’ll come back and fuck you on the hood of this car.”

You smiled, poking his nose with your finger. “I’m looking forward to it.”

~

Soon enough, the atmosphere had changed from a casual hangout to electric chaos, nerves buzzing and the crowd practically bursting with anticipation.

Taehyung gripped the steering wheel of his car, looking over through his passenger window to Hoseok who was staring ahead. He must have felt Taehyung’s stare because he turned his head, their eyes blazing with a surge of emotions.

Neither of them wanted to lose. Losing meant no bragging rights. Losing meant inferiority.

Losing was not an option.

The corner of Taehyung’s lip turned up, his foot pressing on his gas pedal, his car roaring in challenge. A psych out method that Hoseok wouldn’t fall for. He didn’t have time for Taehyung’s games.

Flipping Taehyung off, Hoseok focused back ahead to where you were stepping from the sidelines to stand in the middle of both of the rumbling cars.

Your lace up heels, mini skirt, and crop top combo was driving him crazy, the pure sex appeal that dripped from you sending the crowd into a frenzy. The wolf whistles and claps were only riling Hoseok up more.

He was gonna win. Not only for himself but for you.

Your heart was thudding in equal parts excitement and nerves. This was your first time doing this and despite the job being relatively easy, you were still nervous. Everyone knew you were Hoseok’s girl. How would it look if you started the race and then he lost? Racing was his pride, his passion. You didn’t want to mess this up.

Then you captured the gaze of the man you loved through his windshield. He flashed you that beautiful smile along with a wink and all of a sudden, those nerves disappeared.

Taking a deep breath, you raised the flags in both of your hands. Their engines revved, the crowd growing more and more excited. Casting Hoseok a final glance and mouthing a ‘good luck’, you brought the flags down.

Foots on the gas, both cars sped off with a deafening screech of their tires. Dust whipped around you, tiny rocks hitting your skin and the crowd cheering loudly for who they wanted to win.

You turned around, barely catching sight of their tail-lights as they sped on the course and out of sight.

All you could do was wait.

~

Taehyung glanced into his rear view mirror, Hoseok coming up on his left. Blocking his path, Hoseok was forced to slow down a little to prevent crashing into Taehyung. Taehyung smirked; maneuvers like that was his strong suit. He blocked his competitors and secured his win. It’s how he’s beaten Hoseok all of those times before. Hoseok was a good driver but he was too careful.

Taehyung was a fierce competitor with an amazing car but even with all of that, he was impulsive, hasty and too cocky. That’s where his weakness was.

Little did Taehyung know, losing wasn’t on Hoseok’s agenda today. Today, he would let loose.

Taehyung looked into his rear view again, finding Hoseok trailing further behind him.

“Ha. Giving up, Jung? Smart.”

Around the final bend, the overpass just in sight, Taehyung was feeling confident about winning this one. He’d win and then he’d watch Hoseok’s pretty girlfriend become absolutely devastated. It would be too easy.

He would relax and cinch this win.

Just a few hundred yards from the finish line, Taehyung began to slow down just a little. Hoseok was too far behind to catch up anyway. He could cruise into this win.

Hoseok took a deep breath, just the thought of you waiting for him enough to give him that last burst of confidence he needed. Shifting gears, he slammed on the gas, the needle on the speedometer flying from 90 to 140 in seconds. Like a bullet, Hoseok flew past Taehyung.

Taehyung could barely react, pressing on his own gas in an attempt to regain his lead but it was too late. The cheers of the crowd hit his ears but they weren’t for him.

You could have cried seeing Hoseok’s car cross the line with Taehyung just milliseconds behind him. You couldn’t even hear the people around you, focused solely on your boyfriend who had stepped out of his car.

His eyes frantically looked around, searching for the one person who he knew would be waiting for him.

You ran the best you could in your heels into his open arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he spun both of you around.

Pulling away, you cupped both of his cheeks, letting out a watery laugh before connecting your lips in a desperate and yearning kiss full of joy, love, and overwhelming pride.

“I won, princess. I won.” He said against your lips.

He won.

~

“Ooooooo shit, fuck me harder with that fat cock baby! It feels so good!” You moaned/screamed as Hoseok’s thick cock pummeled your walls in back shots so deep that you could feel him in your stomach. Tears streamed down your cheeks, drool leaking from your mouth and forming tiny puddles on the hood of his car. You could feel yourself ready to burst, all of the pent up energy and adrenaline from the race still coursing through your veins.

After his win, Hoseok immediately drove you two to an empty parking lot and then he was on you. He kept true to his promise, pulling you out of the car and hauling you up on the hood before eating you out like a madman. He didn’t even remove your panties, simply moving them to side before diving into your succulent cunt.

Hoseok cursed, working his hips back and forth faster than his car, the squelch of your walls spurring him on faster. Your creamy cunt was making the filthiest noises along with your pleasure fueled babbles and pleads.

The cool hood of his car was doing nothing to alleviate the heat radiating off of you, your nipples rubbing against the surface to the point where they hurt a little bit but it was only adding to the mind numbing pleasure.

“Yeah? Hold that ass open for me.”

Reaching your hands back, you spread your ass cheeks for him, giving him a view of your twitching ass. Gathering some saliva in his mouth, he let spit dribble from his mouth down to your little hole. He rubbed his thumb over the tight ring of muscle making you whine out. There was no warning, no gentle touches, no preparation before he shoved his thumb right into your ass, hooking it and using it as a type of leverage on forcing your ass to clap against him.

Your mouth dropped in a silent scream at the feeling of the sudden intrusion, the new sensation hurtling you towards orgasm. You felt so fucking full, both of your holes stuffed and your knees quivering as they threatened to give on you.

Hoseok must have sensed it because he grabbed one of your legs and propped it up on the hood. Not only did this position open you up more, it let him reach so much deeper, the tip of his cock rubbing against your gspot with every stroke.

You choked out a moan, head lifting and your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your pleasure crested.

“I’m gonna cum Hoseok! Fuck I’m gonna cum! I-I’m…!” You slurred, nails scratching the paint off and leaving thin marks in the metal.

His thumb dug deeper, cock reaching unexplored places of your pussy. “Cum princess. Shit shit shit.”

You both reach your highs at the same time, your walls constricting around him and milking him for everything he had, his cum coating your squishy walls. Your head banged forward on the car, shivers going down your spine despite the heat of the night.

Your chests rose and fell as you tried to regain your breath. You felt Hoseok’s hand travel up your shoulder to grab your face, peeling your sweaty body off the surface. He craned your head backwards, bringing his lips down on yours in a feverish kiss. You hummed, your tongues dancing and licking at each other.

“Congrats on your win, baby.”

“Thanks. Do I get my prize now?”

You laughed because he was so ridiculous but so were you. That’s why you fit together so well.

“Get in the back, loser.”

[ryuichirou]

what kinda underwear do you think the male cast would wear?? i like to think Jade would go without some days, so improper!! OTL Floyd with the colorful patterns, whether he actually wears them tho is a 60/40. i can see him in those cliche heart boxers very, very easily. Do you think any of the cast would keep their lovers' underwear, like a souvenir? I could see Lilia doing it. 1/3 (the rest is just horny posting for a fish)

2/3 (this is *not* an art request just me being down bad for a semi-crazy assfish) I would die to see jade leech in lingerie OTL i cant think of any scenarios where he'd wear it, but god is it a beautiful mental image. Considering his take on clothing (being a mer+weird asf) I don't think he'd have any actual hangups about it, but he still wouldn't do it under normal circumstances. i think part of the appeal for me, is that you wouldnt expect a guy like him (big, top, JADE) to wear sumn like it

3/3 in conclusion  they took away my license because of how  fast i was undressing him

Hi Anon!

This is such a great theme for hcs, and I am very sorry that it took so long, but please understand: this is a very complicated subject, I just had to do research before writing it. Well, in actuality I was just googling all kinds of underwear over and over again until the picture in my head for every single boy looked right lol We’ll get to hcs shortly, but first I’ll reply to the other things you’ve said!

Btw, this ask is from MARCH, that’s how far behind I am in replying to those.

Totally agree about Lilia stealing his lover’s undies as a souvenir. This is his trophy, and he is very proud of them. He should have a display in his room…

Floyd also has his stealing undies moments. Some of the boys he sleeps with could be smitten with him enough to try to gift him their underwear, and Floyd would go “??? Why the fuck do I need these”. But sometimes? He just steals them lol He totally stole a couple of Riddle’s undies. He doesn’t really store them well though, so they’re just lying around his and Jade’s room…

Rook. Rook would also take trophies. And he would take such good care of them it’s insane. Now this is someone who would have a display somewhere… somewhere where no one would be able to see it unless he wants them to…

I also think Ortho would do it one time just because he wanted to play out the trope of having someone else’s panties in his room, oops! He’s a weird boy.

Can’t say much about Jade in lingerie, but it really would look good, not gonna lie….

Riddle – god I want him to have cute ones with a strawberry print, but realistically he is probably wearing just some plain tighty whities…. unless they have a pretty embroidered “R” on it, which is somehow even worse. I love him so much. Wait, would he be the one to wear undies with the weekdays written on them?

Ace – just some boxer briefs, nothing crazy; he used to have very colourful ones when he was younger, with fun prints and all, but nowadays he tries to be a bit more stylish and mature about it, so a lot of times he goes for dark-red/red/black ones.

Deuce – pretty neutral, but he does have a “lucky” pair of trunks that he always wears when he has something important going on that day… He also has a pair of very good seamless running underwear (deep blue with some light blue patterns), and he kind of cherishes them because it’s an expensive gift. Just wear them and run, Deuce…

Trey – he prefers boxers, the ones that are basically just shorts and aren’t tight. They also look pretty plain, but he has some with the tartan print. Usually green or red… He would look like a Men’s Health model if he wore something less loose and more stylish, but he loves his stupid tartan boxers!

Cater – boxer briefs, but the “leg” part is somewhat shorter; he has a variety of different ones, but it’s almost always some variation of grey and orange. He buys the ones that seem cool to him, even the sillier ones are on the cooler side; he is very happy that his sisters don’t have power over what kind of underwear he wears… he thinks about it every time he looks in the mirror after taking a shower.

Leona – probably something high-end and luxury, but he also doesn’t wear them all the time. He wears something short, slick and sporty when he does anything sport-related and needs support for his balls, but other than that – nah, putting on underwear is just another annoying unnecessary extra thing to do.

Ruggie – he bought the cheapest ones available in bulk when he was like 13, and he still wears them (they were a little big for him when he first got them). His grandma said that it has to be cotton, but other than that – it doesn’t matter, and Ruggie believes it wholeheartedly. So I guess some neutral grey briefs? Nothing too fancy.

Jack – oh this boy. He doesn’t like underwear that doesn’t give him good support, so all of his options fit pretty close to his body. I guess his signature ones would be briefs in which one leg is just plain black, and the other leg has a print of half of the wolf face… what, you think it’s cringe? At least it’s not the ones where the wolf’s face is in the crotch area… Jack actually thinks those are cringe too – he got a pair of those from Ace, Deuce and Epel for his birthday (google wolf underwear)

Azul – Calvin Klein and Hugo Boss are his best friends. Very… gentlemanly. He always picks the ones that would make him feel like a successful young man. They’re not too short, but a little shorter than regular boxer briefs, and always very tight. To some maybe even uncomfortably tight, but Azul doesn’t mind it at all for some reason. He has exactly 10 pairs of grey and purple ones, exactly 10 pairs of black and purple ones and a couple of white ones.

Floyd – a big collection, kind of like with his shoes and socks. He hates plain ones, but some of his undies aren’t obnoxious – he has a couple of pretty stylish and bright ones that aren’t too crazy. But yeah, a lot of them are pretty obnoxious and bright lol He loves loose boxers, but also has some tighter ones too.

Jade – yeah he’d go commando lol But not all the time. His choice of underwear is… eclectic. Of course, he has some plain ones (a couple of those are similar to Azul’s but in a different colour and size), but also? He has some surprisingly silly ones. Of course with mushrooms and stuff, or something that too cursed even for Floyd to wear. It just tickles Jade when he has a secret…

Kalim – luxury underwear! Mostly white + yellow/golden/orange ones, but he has some black ones as well. Super high quality, super special design, super cool-looking actually. And Kalim doesn’t even know that his underwear is different from the rest of the guys, but if he ever was to try on some other type of underwear, he would immediately feel discomfort and say that it doesn’t feel right against his skin. Too rough…

Jamil – his is also pretty high quality; even though his family serves the Asims, I feel like this is exactly why Jamil can afford a good pair of underwear. It’s not even remotely near the price tag of Kalim’s though, god forbid, no one should allow to wear underwear this expensive..! Anyways, since Jamil likes to go sleeveless, he probably prefers underwear that doesn’t cover his thighs at all, so just some regular tight briefs. It’s mostly black+deep red, his favourite colour combo.

Vil – there he is, the underwear guru. He has all kinds of underwear and sometimes changes it multiple times per day depending on his activity: he wears seamless short briefs for yoga so it’s not visible through his leggings, but still gives him support, he wears longer boxer briefs for jogging so his thighs don’t rub against each other too much, he wears some other type for flying… his collection is expensive, high quality and very well organised… What was that? A thong? Of course he wears a thong sometimes, it looks hot. And lingerie too, when it’s appropriate. Come on now.

Rook – there he is, the man who used to wear underwear with holes in it and didn’t even care. Point at him, laugh at him, and then say thank you to Vil Schoenheit who took one look at this creature and said “I can fix him”. Anyways, nowadays Rook wears a pair of seamless boxer briefs that hug his body tightly but don't feel suffocating; he owns a bunch of these in different colours. He also owns a jockstrap, and finds it kind of functional, but it makes his butt too prominent, so he doesn't wear it. It’s for special occasions only...

Epel – he fought his mum for the right to buy himself some new cool underwear before coming to NRC (having colourful undies your mom bought you when you were 12 SUCKS!), but he didn’t even get to wear them much because Vil saw them and gave him a lecture about how this is the worst type of underwear he could wear (pure polyester, are you serious??), and that Epel doesn’t care about the well-being of his down-there at all. Long story short, Vil got him some red+purple boxer briefs for the regular wear (not too tight, very comfy!) + a couple of  black pairs for magift (longer ones?? Epel didn’t even know it existed). Epel was actually worried that he would get some stupid girly underwear, but wow these are… kind of nice. But he would never admit that the ones Vil got are much better!!

Idia – he usually wears the grey ones with triangles that STYX issues for its personnel. They are pretty comfy, and you can just grab a box and boom – you don’t have to think about your underwear ever again, EASY. But also Idia has some kind of childish loose boxers… with his favourite characters, of course. This isn’t just underwear, it’s also merch. Perfect for rewatching 300 episodes of your favourite anime.

Ortho – how much he wishes he could wear underwear…! But if we’re talking about real!Ortho, I think he would also like good ol’ regular loose boxers. But overall his underwear collection is less childish than Idia’s, at least because he has some Calvin Kleines.  And yes, of course it’s black and neon blue. He doesn’t really like the STYX ones because they make him sad, but he wears those from time to time because he wants to match with Idia.

Lilia – the moment he discovered funky underwear he was never the same. It’s the same thing he does with socks: he buys everything that seems fun, even if it ends up not being his size: he just gifts it away to younglings, so it’s all good! I think every Diasomnia boy has at least one pair of underwear that doesn’t match his style at all, because it was Lilia’s gift… anyways, Lilia either wears black ones with bright patterns (black + neon green+pink!), or something completely obnoxious. Nowadays he’s also thinking whether he could pull off something cute+sexy…

Silver – he wears whatever and doesn’t think about it twice, as long as it’s clean and has no holes in it. The majority of his underwear are pretty boring regular boxer briefs + just regular boxers that aren’t as tight. He also has one silly pair with blue and pink birdies… a gift from father, of course. He always smiles when he wears them.

Sebek – his default is black+green briefs; his thighs are getting too powerful, so he doesn’t like shorts-type underwear these days. But he does wear one lengthier pair – and it’s special equestrian underwear that has padding on the crotch. Sometimes the boy just wants some extra protection against rubbing okay… it’s not as much of a problem for the rest of the equestrian club boys for some reason.

Malleus – it’s clearly custom-made just for him: it’s black, made of high quality special type of silk + has beautiful lacing. Honestly, Malleus panties are a piece of art. I guess it’s like traditional Briar Valley type of design, but super extra fancy; he is the future King, after all. It’s hard to say if it’s comfy or not, but it looks quite dramatic. Malleus also has some underwear that is lengthier, almost like leggings. 

Bonus round!:

Crowley – doesn’t wear anything. Don’t tell anyone.

Crewel – a big variety, a lot of bold patterns, but his favourite pair is a part of black trunks with a white zebra print. Shocking, I know. He has some pretty sexy ones though, maybe even a thong.

Trein – granpa undies… grandpa undies.

Vargas – unfortunately, probably a jockstrap.

Sam – well wouldn’t you want to know? :)

Che’nya – he almost never wears underwear. And he flashes people. He is a very, very bad cat. He only wears underwear when he knows his pants are going to slide down because he doesn’t know how to use a belt properly, and people are going to see that he is wearing boxers with cartoon hedgehogs tickling each other in a weirdly sexual manner. Bad, bad cat.

Neige – pretty plain ones! Almost all of his underwear is either white or light blue. Some of them have silly prints, almost too cute for a guy… He gets tons of very cool expensive underwear for free as promo, but he donates the majority of them without even unpacking it. Thank you for your kindness, but people need undies more than Neige <3

Rollo – he is similar to Riddle, but I also think he would be that one kid who wears some priestly old-timey looking cotton shorts, because these are more traditional, and traditions are to be cherished. One could think that this is a part of his school’s uniform, but nah, Rollo is just a little weirdo… looks good on him though.

Fellow – I’m sorry, it’s probably kind of bad :( it used to be a decent pair of boxer briefs that he got when they suddenly got lucky enough with money, but now it’s well-worn and has some holes in it. It also used to be bright orange, but now it has a pale sort of peachy hue… he wants to get something new to wear, but whenever they get the money, clothes aren’t really a priority.

Gidel – his aren’t as bad because Fellow always wants Gidel to have something at least a little bit better than what he has, but Gidel’s pair of boxers is clearly too big for him. It’s pinned around his waist just so he doesn’t lose them… it has some guy’s name written on the butt part, and while Fellow finds it kind of depressing (maybe he remembers the guy he stole those from), Gidel thinks it’s pretty funny.

[stardewsnail]

Can I get head canons of the reactions of the bachelors visiting and seeing your sex toy sitting on your nightstand? Thank you✨✨✨

You most certainly can anon!

I tried to keep the anatomy gender neutral except when I saw a specific plot opportunity (there’s no plot I just thought it would be funny if one of them didn’t recognize the specific kind of toy lol)

MINORS DNI SEXUAL CONTENT it’s exactly what it says on the tin folks

Harvey

“Do you see my earrings over there?” you called over your shoulder, haphazardly pulling on your boots.

Harvey glanced over at the cluttered nightstand. Tissue box, a mug, a glass, lotion, chapstick. Something pink caught his eye and he froze. It was small, dainty even, but there was no mistaking the item—he knew a vibrator when he saw it.

Look, Harvey is a doctor and is totally sex positive, getting off is good for you

But seeing yours sitting there had heat rising to his cheeks immediately and he couldn’t help the images that flooded his mind at the sight—you spread across the comforter, toy between your legs, breathing heavily as you got yourself closer and closer…

If you’re not together he definitely won’t bring it up so he doesn’t embarrass you or reveal how much he wants to know exactly how you use it

A little embarrassed at the fantasy since he’s a gentleman but not guilty enough to stop him from letting his mind drift on occasion

Sam

“Head on in, I’ll be there a second!”

Sam flashed you a thumbs up and headed into the one room cabin. He set the cooler on the table—he knew you were planning on adding a kitchen soon, but in the meantime he was having fun getting the chance to make snacks for the two of you. He glanced around, admiring the large geode you’d place next to your nightstand—what was that.

- Stares for a minute just not quite comprehending

- He’s never seen a dildo in person before but there’s really no mistaking the purple silicone

- The sparkly purple silicone

- He swallows, trying to stop his mind from wandering—you were right outside, and even with his probably obvious crush on you, he really didn’t want you to walk in on him staring at your sex toy with a hard on

- Immediately starts thinking of something gross and goes right back outside to chat with you. He makes an excuse to linger outside when you go in, hoping you notice because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to form a coherent thought if it’s just sitting there while you hang out

- He’s gonna be thinking about that later for sure

Alex

(This is the only one with specific genitalia)

He stares at the item on the nightstand, head cocked to the side in a manner reminiscent of Dusty

It’s a small object, shorter than his forearm and made of plastic aside from a rubber ring at the larger end. There’s a couple of buttons—one round with a power symbol and two vertical arrows above it

Is it a massager? Is it—

Alex looks away, certain his face would match a tomato

I know a lot of people hc Alex as some kinda Casanova but he was raised in the country by his grandparents he’s a polite young man

But he quickly find himself staring at it again while you warm the cocoa on the electric hot plate that serves as your kitchen

“It’s not gonna bite, y’know,” your voice is teasing but he can see the pink dusting your face as you hurry over, “Never seen a sex toy before?”

“Not like that!” His voice is a bit high on the end and he winced internally, “How does it even…”

Now you looked amused, holding it in your hand as you raised a brow. “How does it what, Alex?”

“Fit?”

You giggled, “It doesn’t go in me,” she explained, “it simulates oral.” You tapped the rubber bit, “this goes on the clit.”

It simulated oral—he’s seen porn, even if he’s never had the opportunity to perform the act himself. He nods, hoping his expression is simply one of someone receiving information that they definitely won’t be fantasizing about later. Because now all he can think about is him replacing the toy between their thighs.

- if you’re together he will absolutely want to watch you use it and let me tell you he will be paying close attention

Elliot

- okay honestly I see him as fifty fifty either he ignores it completely if you’re not together or has an extremely casual conversation about the pros and cons of different toys

- Elliot is into some stuff and I think he would treat it like any other discussion tbh

- if you’re together though, he is definitely bringing it up and asking what you like about it. He’s absolutely down to incorporate it in your sex life and frankly he’s got a few things of his own he wants to bring in

Sebastian

“I think I’ve got a lighter on my nightstand? You can go grab it.”

You’re hanging out on the porch when he realizes he forgot a light. He’s focused on his quest and he does find the lighter—but he also finds something else sitting right next to it.

The dildo is veined, a deep shade of blue, and has a suction cup on its base. He snatches up the lighter but then pauses, making the split second decision to put it away in the top drawer. No way he wants to ever address the fact that he saw it. How is he supposed to look you in the eye when you bring it up, and all he can think about is you on all fours, thrusting yourself back against it—he ducks back outside, his baggy sweater pulled a bit lower than before.

- if you’re together then he might mention it but only as a hypothetical “how would you feel about experimenting with some toys in the bedroom” kinda way absolutely hoping you whip that bad boy out and fuck yourself on it while sucking him off. It’s gonna take him a while to work up to that one, though

Shane

He’s just sitting on the bed, cola in hand, waiting for you to finish turning off the sprinklers in preparation for the storm rolling in. And sue him, he’s a little nosy so he’s not exactly hesitant at examining the cluttered surface of your nightstand. The minute he spies the unmistakable silicon of the vibrator his head snaps around to look back at the paused TV. He only peeks at it from the corner of his eye, trying not to dwell on what you did with it for too long.

He sips his soda, suddenly too warm.

[homestuckreplay]

Webcomics at Day 100 #4: explodingdog

Pages read: 2000-01-10 - 2000-09-17 (100 update days, but over 500 pages) & 2009-04-13 - 2009-05-26 (a further 13 days/42 pages)

Reason for selection: explodingdog may have been the first popular webcomic to work from reader submissions, and its drawings look like they were made in MS Paint, both key features of early Homestuck. explodingdog also broke containment, with many of its drawings spread elsewhere without attribution, such as being turned into LiveJournal icons or even painted on a building in Seattle.

Original run: 2000-2015, with lots of pages but an intermittent update schedule. Ongoing while Homestuck is getting started.

Content warnings: Extreme (but very abstract/cartoon) violence, gross-out humor involving bodily fluids

Overall thoughts:

I love the idea for this comic. Readers send in a short phrase via email, which can be absolutely anything, and artist Sam Brown chooses the ones that inspire him and draws a picture based on that phrase. However, reading the comic as an archive in the future, I don’t love the execution. Quite a few of the drawings made me openly groan, roll my eyes, or shake my head. There were definitely a few that got genuine laughs out of me, but they were a small percentage.

None of this is intended as shade to the artist – Brown seems like a decent guy based on the interviews I’ve read, and I hope he had fun making this. Running a webcomic for fifteen years is an impressive feat in itself, but this one just isn’t for me, at this point, in its current form.

Brown has stated that he has ‘never really seen explodingdog as a comic’ and calls his work a ‘collaborative art project’ although his reasoning hinges on the idea that comics have to be funny, and that humor isn’t the goal of his work. I personally think that comics are a medium that can work in any genre, not just comedy, and so webcomic is appropriate. In an essay, Kyle Conway argues that explodingdog is an absurdist theater performance, employing improvisation and experienced as live by its audience. Conway also highlights the design of the website, where instead of placing the most recent installment on the homepage as most webcomics do, individual titles have to be clicked on to see the accompanying artwork. In Brown’s words, ‘the story happens in your head’ between the title and image.

Conway’s arguments make sense from his position as a real-time reader. A huge draw of explodingdog is the knowledge that the captions came from ordinary folk on the internet, and that you, the reader, could submit a caption, and a cooler guy on the internet would think it was interesting or poignant or funny enough to make a drawing out of. The moment between clicking on the page’s title and seeing its corresponding image, where the reader comes up with their own interpretation of the title, is meaningful when the drawings are given out a handful at a time on sporadic days.

But these things don’t work the same in an archive. There’s a much greater distance between the reader and the creator, with no chance of personally becoming part of the work. And having to click every individual page from the menu isn’t a smooth reading experience for over 500 pages at once – there’s no ‘next’ button, although weirdly the entire image on each page functions as a ‘previous’ button, which makes an accidental click really frustrating. Brown knew from the start that creating art on the internet made it more temporary than physical art, as websites changed form over time – in a 2006 interview, he said ‘i think it is very possible that either because of government regulation or changes in technology or greedy corporations or a combination of all three, the internet as we expect it to be in 2006 won’t exist in ten years.’

The response to explodingdog during its release seems extremely positive, with lots of people praising how it twists the meaning of prompts and comes up with unexpected interpretations. I personally found that it got very repetitive, very fast. The same twists would happen in a lot of drawings, and would usually involve 2000s-era internet humor such as robots, aliens, stick figures bleeding due to missing their head or limbs, green monsters that are referred to as ‘monkeys,’ and riffs on the idea that ‘other people are stupid.’ There are recurring characters, including the Red Robot – famous enough to be featured in quite a few other webcomics – a second robot that grows roses in its stomach, a guy watching TV in a space wasteland, Phil, and more.

In some cases, an entire picture is reused. ‘better than being lost in the city’ (6/29/2000) and ‘In the morning things will be better’ (7/13/2000) feature the exact same piece of art, the later one slightly zoomed in. ‘toast from a toaster’ (1/11/2000), ‘Toast goes in the toaster’ (6/19/2000) and ‘Toast’ (7/17/2000) all three contain the same image. The gimmick, as discussed often by Brown, is that the images are inspired by the captions – not that the images already existed and happened to fit something that was submitted. I really hope this disappears in later years.

Like other comics I’ve read, I did notice a lot of improvement in the art between 2000 and 2009 in terms of complexity and ease of understanding. In both cases the art is mostly irregular, childlike stick figures and blobs, with no intent for the art to be technically good. In 2000, there’s a lot of muted colors including browns, grays, khakis and oranges. The color palette often isn’t nice to look at (in my opinion) and as the images often depict unpleasant things such as vomit and lobotomies, they sometimes feel like shock value art. In 2009, the colors have brightened and become more varied, and there’s more use of backgrounds even when the image doesn’t require it. The stick figures are more polished with smoother lines. I was surprised to learn that Brown was already a fine art graduate in 2000; in the nicest possible way, he does such a good job of hiding any actual skill.e

I think that even in the modern day there is great potential for certain explodingdog comics to be used as reaction images or ‘tag your oc’ style memes. However, due to the nature of the project, I think this comic would be better enjoyed as a greatest hits collection than as a full archive.

Relevance to Homestuck: explodingdog is one of the webcomics linked from MSPA under the heading ‘No Shortage of Good Websites,’ and due to its prominence in the 2000s, may have been a direct influence on Hussie choosing to work from reader commands. They’re both comics that collaborate with their audience and invite readers who want to share in the work’s creation.

In explodingdog, the images vary on how they relate to the captions – some draw the phrase straight up, some are a ‘yes and,’ some are a direct response (if the caption is a question) and some feel unrelated, but feature a stick figure who could possibly be saying that caption. The ‘yes and,’ where Brown uses the phrase and adds a second, followup phrase that changes the context, were the most effective ones for me. This might be because they felt the most Homestuck – Hussie does the same move where they take a reader command and add something else so that the command is followed, but is different to intended. A recent example is p.597, where the command is ‘Use ice maker, it’s still hot around here.’ and the response is ‘yes, Dave uses the ice maker, and it’s full of cherry bombs, not ice.’

Finally, both comics put out a large number of pages per day, unlike the majority of comics which stick to a single page per day. Both explodingdog and Homestuck published 4-6 pages on most update days in their first years, and both occasionally broke into double digits. Clearly some aspect of their creation is designed to make a lot of content, as fast as possible, to the point that some readers might consider them quantity over quality.

Continue reading? In a 2004 interview Brown said ‘my website is available to anyone on the Internet for free, but millions of people would rather see porn or sports scores.’ I’m not huge on either porn or sports scores but I still think I am one of those people.

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 — act I, scene iii

nonidol!hwang intak x f!reader

when summit poster boy hwang intak's car breaks down in the school parking lot, it sets off a chain of events that leads to you, someone he was perhaps always meant to find. the only problem is that the two of you are far from the ideal couple, and your peers are apt to keep that status quo.

▷ genre, chapter warnings. s2f2l, classism and discrimination, forbidden romance au, minimal swearing, angst, humor, kind of gray morals

▷ word count. 3.6k

« prev · m.list · next »

a/n: i've realized this has been pretty fast-paced but it's only cuz i wanna get to the good parts 😭💀

SUMMER (RISING JUNIORS).

YN stepped into the cooler, darkened building of the repair shop and immediately reached for her towel sitting on the front desk. As she swiped away the sweat dripping down her face and neck, she guzzled down as much water from her bottle as she could intake at once. It was a hot day out, and usually there were fans set up in the garage area, but the electricity had stopped working three hours ago.

The door flew open, and Jongseob's sopping wet head of hair poked inside. "Hey, lover boy messaged you."

She rolled her eyes. "Stop snooping, Jongseob."

He smiled with a shrug. "Tell that to your notification sound."

"And his name is not lover boy."

For some reason, that made Jongseob's smile grow wider, but before she could question it, he ducked back outside. She knew that if she appeared immediately after him, he and Soul would never let her live it down, so she continued to take her time drinking water and patting herself dry. As usual, it was a relatively slow day at the shop, and her mom had left the three of them there to watch the grass grow. She wasn't supposed to be in any hurry.

When she finally stepped back into the garage, she was greeted by a wave of heat that almost knocked her over. She felt the sweat drip down the side of her face again, despite having cooled down inside just seconds ago. Jongseob's playlist of r&b hits filled the space along with the familiar sounds of metal fixings.

Soul and Jongseob were both at their respective stations, so she made her way over to her own station and picked up her phone. Sure enough, there were messages from Intak sent about five minutes ago.

tak: *sent a picture*

tak: one of my friends just got back from his trip and we're at the roller skating rink in the crossroads 👀👀👀 maybe i'll see u here later??? wink wonk

Yn smiled to herself, but tried to suppress it for the sake of her own ego and pride (and the two others blatantly watching her from their stations). She had changed the contact name from "jae" to "tak" a couple days after first reaching out to him. It had seemed natural to let go of the contact name and bring in something new; it was an attempt at moving along in the grieving process, if you would.

The image Intak had sent was a selfie of him in fuschia-toned lighting, most likely from the neon lights in the Crossro-ller Rink in the Crossroads community halfway up the hill. His black hair was tousled just slightly in an effortless sort of mess, but he wore a plain black T-shirt and a chain collar, his lips pursed at the camera. He didn't show which friend he was with, but it wasn't like she would have paid attention to him anyway.

"Awwwh, Soul look! She's blushing!"

Yn rolled her eyes again and blindly flipped Jongseob the bird over her shoulder. His cackles of delight echoed in the garage, accompanied by Soul's softer laugh.

yn's phone: i have to give it to u, i think ur getting better at this "being smooth" thing

yn's phone: but i have to work, sorry buddy wink wonk

The thought did cross her mind, even for a split second, to ditch the shop and go to the roller skating rink. Intak would never know who she was—just another poor girl crawling up from the gutter to skate around. The thrill of it energized her though, and she set her phone aside to get back to work with just a hint of a skip in her step.

Jongseob peered out from under the car he was tweaking. "You're so whipped; it's insane," he teased with a feigned gag.

When she stuck her tongue out at him, her phone dinged to announce another incoming message. And another. And another—

"Are you gonna get that or should I?" Jongseob gestured to her station table with one oil-stained hand. He grinned at her scowl. "You're so touchy, sheesh. Fine, but if it's important and you miss it…"

Yn grumbled under her breath and stomped back over to her phone. "You're so stupid."

"And you're stupid whipped!" He cackled, then ducked out of view.

tak: r…. r u mocking me or were the winks genuine…..

tak: wait where do u work :0

tak: ur missing out tho yk 😋

tak: *sent a video*

tak: wait wdym u THINK? i AM GOOD AT BEING SMOOTH

The new picture looked like the saved recording from a Snapchat story. It was him and Yoon Keeho skating around the roller rink beneath the combination of a sparkly disco ball and rainbow neon lights. He still looked as good as he did in the picture, and the video gave a top view that was angled downward over the two tall boys' heads. Yn had definitely seen Keeho and his head of dark blue hair around school before. From what she had heard through the grapevine, he had an awful lot of sass and character stored up in him.

yn's phone: that's confidential :l

yn's phone: looks like a lot of fun! haven't been up there in awhile tbh but i'll think about going soon maybe (^^ゞ

yn's phone: whatever helps u sleep at night tak 🤕🤥

The smile on her face slipped as she read her own messages back, though. Her eyes caught onto one phrasing in particular—the words "up there" yelled at her from the screen with about a dozen sirens blaring. She slapped a hand to her forehead. "Fuuuck."

Her friends peered up from their projects, eyes wide with curiosity and concern. "What? What happened?"

"I said to him 'up there' in relation to the roller rink. There's no way he doesn't know I'm from the Hollows—" Her words were cut off by Intak's own replies.

tak: "tak" 🥰😩😗🥺🫂 someone hold me that's so cute

"I guess not," Jongseob said as he peered over her shoulder at the message, Soul leaning over on her other side. "Man, that's disgusting. Even he's fluffy."

Yn scoffed and waved him off. "Oh, shut up you."

yn's phone: ur friend can hold u lmao

tak: u don't wanna hold me? 😔

yn's phone: if u figure out who i am, then sure ;]

tak: game on.

Though there was a part of her that wanted to get to know Intak like she had his brother, she knew there would be consequences. If he found out her social standing, it could lose her Intak, for one. Even though his brother didn't believe in following the foul classism and bullying his peers up on the hill participated in, that didn't mean Intak felt the same way. (Though, she wanted so badly to believe the opposite.)

It wouldn't matter anyway, right? Losing him? If he discriminated against her based on her income and where she lived, then he could screw off.

(It wasn't like she wasn't used to losing people anyway.)

"Oh my god, who is making you blush so hard, dude?"

Intak's head shot up from where it had been buried nose-deep in his and Yn's text chain. He subtly moved his brother's phone screen out of sight as Keeho came to sit down next to him on the leather sectional. The two of them had come back to Keeho's house about an hour ago from the roller skating rink, legs and backs and behinds aching from hours of skating. It had been a breath of fresh air, getting out of the house. As vast as the Hwang estate was, it was never big enough. Intak had always felt suffocated, and perhaps that was partly because his father shared a living space with him.

"Hm?" Intak mentally willed his heart to calm down.

Keeho eyed him strangely, but his smile was teasing. He reached for the remote to unpause the movie on screen. "Are you still purging Jae hyung's phone? You've been pretty occupied with it ever since the last few weeks of school." Keeho tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth, and Intak cautiously reached for a handful of the buttery treat for himself.

If "purging" meant keeping in contact with one of his older brother's old friends, then yes. Because of Yn, he probably spent more screen time on Jaehyuk's phone than on his own device. "Yeah, I guess you can say that. Just lots of stuff I didn't know about him."

Intak sunk into the couch and tucked the phone away into his pocket, albeit reluctantly. It almost seemed unfair that Yn knew more about him than he did about her, but he was sure there was a good reason for it.

Well… especially if his hunch was correct.

The movie on screen wasn't very interesting, to be completely honest. Intak had seen it about a dozen times before, but it was the movie Keeho had chosen randomly with the Amazon fire stick thing, and he pretty much stuck with it because he didn't know what to watch either.

Intak suddenly cleared his throat. "Can I… ask you a question?"

Keeho glanced over at him. "Of course. What's up?"

"What do you think about the Hollows kids?" He asked slowly, choosing his words carefully. He tried to pose it as neutrally as possible; he had never really gotten a clear stance from any of his friends about what they thought about the people who lived down the hill from them, but generally, they never seemed against the Hollows kids. At least, they never went out of their way to "show them their place." Those were the obnoxious people from their social class whom Intak was pointedly not friends with.

Come to think of it, Intak hadn't gotten a direct answer from his brother either. But then again, Jaehyuk had never been much of a bully sympathizer or bystander.

Keeho raised his eyebrow as if surprised by the question, which wasn't completely unexpected. "Uhhh—I think they're fine. Like the whole community discrimination is a little stupid, but…" He shrugged, "They can bark as long as they don't bite, y'know."

Intak pursed his lips together in a slow nod.

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh—uh, no reason." Intak shifted. What did that answer even mean? "Just curious."

His friend bobbed his head. "Okay… well, if they look at me funny, I'll look at them funny, too. I dunno, dude. It's hard to explain, but if I don't have to get involved, then I won't. You know it's complicated."

Intak supposed he could… live with that answer. It wasn't like he fully accepted it either. After all, he didn't even know what his answer would be... Right?

If faced with the opportunity to befriend someone from the Hollows, would he follow his damn heart or succumb to peer pressure?

This felt illegal.

Intak sat behind his desk at home, hair damp from his recent shower, his laptop opened to a new web browser. He was searching for car repair shops in the Hollows region, something that had been poking at his brain since the roller rink. He didn't know if Yn had even realized she had said "up there" in regards to the roller skating rink, and to be honest, it wasn't until the third time he read the message that it finally clicked in his brain. (Sue him, he had the nickname "Tak" stuck in his head like some fool.)

It didn't really make sense that Jae would have gone all the way down to the Hollows to get a luxury, vintage car repaired and maintained, but because Yn and Jae had met over the phone, it was just a little more plausible. There were a few holes in his theory, clearly, but it was all logical. Actually, the more Intak thought about it, the more it made sense.

There were a couple repair shops in the Hollows, but only one of them was family-owned and not a chain. The name was something along the lines of Ln's Auto Repair—simple and to the point.

He was seconds away from whipping out the academy yearbook.

yer a wizard yn!: ayo r u alone rn?

Intak bit his lip in a poor attempt to hide his smile.

jae's phone: oh so u wanna get me alone?

yer a wizard yn!: u said u almost got caught by ur friend AGAIN earlier õ_ó

jae's phone: and she CARES!! 😩🙏

yer a wizard yn!: smh T-T

jae's phone: admit that u deflect my flirting bc ur flustered

yer a wizard yn!: u were flirting????

jae's phone: that's so hurtful.

yer a wizard yn!: plus, i bet u get flustered easier than i do, hwang intak

yer a wizard yn!: i bet ur blushing so hard rn 👀

He instinctively pressed the back of his hand to his cheek—and goddamn, it was hot. He wasn't about to admit that though.

jae's phone: not the government name 🙁

yer a wizard yn!: ahh look who's deflecting now 🤭

jae's phone: … touché

He paused, biting his lip. Hey, btw…|

No, he thought to himself, spamming the backspace button with his thumb. But why not? He was already searching it up—it didn't feel right without asking her first.

jae's phone: okay i don't wanna come off as stalkerish but…|

Before he could finish his text, Yn's own popped up.

yer a wizard yn!: anyways the reason i came to bug u was bc i m bored :l

A small laugh fell from Intak's lips. Omg ur finally reciprocating my feelings?? :')

yer a wizard yn!: bro what feelings 😭😭

jae's phone: ur literally so mean to me 😔 y am i here to suffer huh

yer a wizard yn!: dunno dude it's cuz i'm cool B)

jae's phone: not w that emoji ur not 💀 what r u? 60???

yer a wizard yn!: experience-wise, yes

jae's phone: and humor-wise 🤕🙁

jae's phone: a little concerning tbh

jae's phone: but ur bored? lol i thought ur usually w ur friends?

He was usually the bored one because his own friends were with their own families and away from this damned place. Intak technically knew a vast sea of people, but it didn't mean he really knew them. He hadn't smiled while talking to someone new like he did with Yn since he first met his three best friends. Crazy how one could feel so alone in an ocean of people.

yer a wizard yn!: they had to go home to help their families w some stuff lol so im just here ig

yer a wizard yn!: my mom's busy w work rn too so i have the house and it's so quiet haha

jae's phone: r u trying to make moves on me rn 👀 insinuating that the house is empty ;))

jae's phone: JKJK IM SORRY IF THAT MADE U UNCOMFORTABLE KSFBJEBFJRJF

yer a wizard yn!: dude do u just flirt w everybody is this a reflex or something 😭😭😭😭

jae's phone: n,,no just u :')

yer a wizard yn!: tak, honey, r u stuttering thru text T-T

Intak leaned back in his desk chair with a soft giggle.

jae's phone: yes my honey bunches of oats 😚 i did stutter

yer a wizard yn!: damn ??? okay 😭 (honey bunches of oats huh 🤨)

jae's phone: do i make u speechless, snookums

jae's phone: or how about sweet lemon drop daisies

jae's phone: lovey dovey partridge in a pear tree?

yer a wizard yn!: HELLOAKDJKS 😭😭

jae's phone: hUH? WHATS THAT? U LIKE THE NAME SNOOKUMS???

jae's phone: i'd change ur contact name to snookums, but i like the hp reference :/

yer a wizard yn!: i don't think i've laughed that hard in awhile tbh 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

yer a wizard yn!: where tf dID U GET ALL THOSE ???

jae's phone: wdym snookums :(( they came from my love for u

He unconsciously raised his hand to his face and felt the scorching hot skin there. Yeah, he was so far gone. Maybe a glass of ice water would do him well.

yer a wizard yn!: okay,,, i think i've calmed down now 🤧🤧

yer a wizard yn!: were u doing anything interesting before i interrupted 🤩🤩

jae's phone: yes yes very important stuff o7 top secret info

yer a wizard yn!: who's the vague one now :// lol jkjk

Intak's eyes moved back to his laptop, of which the screen had faded to black. He moved his fingers over the trackpad to wake the device up and display the page for Ln's Auto Repair again. This felt like—was—an invasion of privacy.

jae's phone: okay uhm… don't be mad

yer a wizard yn!: uhhhh haha that's not very reassuring 😅 what'd u do lol

jae's phone: okok uhm im so sorry but i promise i don't stalk people for fun and i was really curious and i noticed that earlier u said that the roller skating rink was "up" from where u were and i figured u were prob in the hollows, so i looked up the auto repair shops in the hollows… and i think i might have found yours?

jae's phone: ik this was an invasion of privacy, i feel so bad

jae's phone: pls don't be mad

Intak dropped the phone onto his desk with his eyes pinned to the screen, waiting for her answer. He bit his lip, knee bouncing frantically. The dots would appear and disappear, then reappear again.

Finally, he watched Yn's reply come in.

yer a wizard yn!: it's… actually kind of relieving ? in a way

yer a wizard yn!: i actually noticed my mistake earlier too but i figured since u didn't say anything about it, u might not have noticed, but ig i shouldn't have underestimated u haha

yer a wizard yn!: so,,, this is it then?

Panic seized his chest, and he picked up the phone so fast it almost fell right out of his hands.

jae's phone: WOAH WOAH WAIT

jae's phone: hey what's wrong? no this isn't **it**

yer a wizard yn!: well u know im from the gutter now right lol

jae's phone: and?? y should that matter to me

jae's phone: yn i don't care that ur from the hollows like u literally don't care that im from the hill right?? and my brother didn't care either and u had no problem being friends w him too

When she didn't respond for a couple of minutes, Intak felt the furrow in his brows as his thumbs raced over the phone keyboard to type out another message.

jae's phone: call me?

He pressed the button to send the message and left the phone on the desk, waiting for the phone to ring. His knee would not stop bouncing to save his life, and so he turned the phone screen off and busied his hands and eyes by looking through his mess of an email inbox. Every few seconds, his eyes darted to the phone, however, the screen remained dark and still. No answer, no phone call.

Just silence, and the palpitations of his nervous heart.

He screwed up, hadn't he? He had just scared her off—and that in itself messed with his head.

He was about to give up for the night—maybe resort to finding a drink downstairs and curl up with a movie—until the dull vibration of the phone jolted him out of his chair. He fumbled with the slim device, and somehow managed to accept the call.

"Hello?" He answered, almost breathlessly.

Yn's throat cleared on the other side, voice low. "Hey. Sorry it took me a couple minutes to call. I think I was just nervous." Her throat cleared another time and it sounded like it was accompanied by cracking knuckles.

Intak relaxed a little into his seat. "No, no, don't worry about it. I—" I was dying, "—take your time. I get it. I was just worried I scared you off." He laughed a little at the end as if he hadn't just experienced a self-induced heart attack.

"No, don't worry," she rushed to reply. "You didn't scare me off. I think I do a good enough job at that already."

He turned on speaker mode and placed the phone on the desk so he could fidget with his fingers. "Ah… if it makes you feel better, I feel the same way—scared, I mean. And I really did mean what I said… with the not caring about you being from the Hollows."

A beat passed. "Thanks, Intak. That's… really cool of you."

He nodded. "Right, yeah. Just the...the bare minimum," he said quietly with a flippant flick of his wrist. And it was the bare minimum, but in a community like theirs, bare minimum was a high standard when it came to classism and discrimination. "So—we're cool, right? We're cool?"

She hummed. "Yeah, of course."

A smile crawled onto his face and tugged at the corners of his lips. "Good. I'm glad." He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk with his cheeks leaning on the palms of his hands. "Listen, Yn... you can be comfortable with me, I hope. I—I hope you can feel safe with me like you did with my brother."

His heartbeat thundered in his ears almost as loud as the volume of the call, and his cheeks were aflame beneath his palms. It was a marvel how one person could make him feel this way. Hearing her voice sent a course of tingles down his spine, made his toes curl. It was a feeling not entirely foreign, yet completely new at the same time.

"Thank you," was her soft reply. "I hope so, too."

« prev · m.list · next »

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @kaaimins @shakalakaboomboo @sodafy @leaz-kpop-life @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @haechansbbg @kflixnet @http-gyu @mvvnsseul