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nicksolemnlyswears · 1 year

Note

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though.

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples.

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white.

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist.

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other.

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back.

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours.

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him.

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop."

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you.

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically.

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier.

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds.

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two.

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder.

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin.

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

#request #han lue imagine #fanfiction #fast and furious fanfiction #fast and furious #han lue fanfiction #han seoul oh #han lue x reader #han lue request #han lue #han lue imagines #han x reader #han x you #han lue smut #smut

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jaysgirlx · 7 months

Note

Can you do a fic based off of https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRcsG8Yu/ this TikTok when Jason and reader was talking and it got deep and he joked about off!ng himself and the reader sits with him all night just in case he wasn’t joking? Please? I love your writing so much and if this is a touchy topic feel free to ignore or correct. Have a nice day!

❝ 𝐈’𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❥ pairing: jason todd x civilian f!reader

❥ summary: Jason and you are close, you always have been so close that you thought you knew him well enough to read his mind except you're wrong about that, and what you learn ends up scaring you more.

❥ warnings: mentions of death/suicide/afterlife, reminiscing of torture, heavy angst, little fluff, happy ending

❥ wc: 1.5k

Your fingers, combed through Jason's black locks while he focused his attention on you. The two of you had moments on these where you sat together in a comfortable silence. They tended to happen when one of you was upset, usually you but tonight you could tell something was wrong with Jason. So you kept quiet and let him rest. You didn't know if late nights like these would last forever.

"How long are you going to play with my hair princess?"

"Until you tell me what's wrong Jay"

Again you both fell into a silence. This time it was awkward like maybe you should've played dumb but it was too late night to think that. Jason sighed and sat up on your couch and laid his head on your lap. You tried to remove your hand from his hair but he gave this look like this is what he needed at least for tonight.

You weren't sure if or when you and Jason had crossed the friend boundary. The two of you obviously had not slept together but you had kissed numerous times. Sometimes when he was anxious you'd kiss him just to calm him down and it worked, except for the fact you'd end up making out. Or when he would go on patrol and you were worried he would kiss you and then he'd end up cuddling you till you slept off. The kisses you both shared were like little reassurances of love. Though the two of you never actually spoke about what they really meant.

You had wanted to for the longest time but you didn't because in the end you always knew that Jason cared for you. You could tell by the way he always left you breakfast when he had to leave while you were asleep or by the way he'd walk you home if you had decided to work overtime. Jason cared in his own little way and you take what you got especially since he made the best pancakes.

"I fought with Bruce today, he took Dick's side on something and I just got mad…I know they both care, but it doesn't feel like it sometimes y'know? It still feels like they're Batman and Nightwing and I'm still Robin" He stopped himself from speaking further like if he spoke more, he'd say something he'd regret. Jason didn't want to drop all his problems on you because he knew you would listen and he knew you'd comfort him. You did so much for him and was slightly worried he was becoming too much. Jason didn't want to become a burden to you, he enjoyed spending time with you and he didn't wan to fuck that up.

"I've always got your side Jay if that helps and you're not Robin anymore okay and regardless of that, Robin didn't make you…well you" you say, caressing his face. "You're just you Jay and if they've got a problem with you well then they have a problem with me"

"Well, I think I hate myself if I'm being honest" Those words made your hands stop and now you started to really listen. You knew Jason wasn't exactly happy with his life but you didn't think he hated himself. He was so cocky all the time that you couldn't even fathom the idea of him hating himself. "These days getting up in the mornings is so difficult and a good night's rest…I don't remember the last time I had one"

"Well I think we all can relate to that, life kinda sucks for all of us Jay. Everything we do is out of our hands and it seems like no matter how hard we try we're never fully just happy"

"You got that right, the last time I was really happy was…well nevermind, But sometimes I think about killing myself"

"Well I mean we all have, I thought about it a couple of times when work gets hard but-

"No y/n, I mean like really killing myself, like just putting my gun to my head and that's it." He laughs but you still don't manage to find it funny. "I know damn well there will be plenty of people who will probably find it pretty, my brains splattered everywhere and my body lifeless"

"I'd really prefer you'd not do that Jay"

"Okay but in all seriousness-"

"I don't want to hear this Jay"

"I'd want you to plan my funeral, you'd make it beautiful and hopefully not gloomy"

"Jay is this a funny matter, stop joking around"

"I doubt there's an afterlife, seeing that I did die once and I don't remember any floating gates or firey pits"

"Jay please stop it"

"C'mon we both know without you, I'd be better off-"

"No." you said and it came out broken. Jason looked up at you, you weren't playing with his hair anymore, you were crying. He tried to reach up and your tears away but you pushed away his hand. He hadn't meant to upset you, he didn't mean it. Well, he did but he wasn't going to, not when you still cared for him. You were what he was living for. "No, you can't do that Jay"

He again tries to wipe your tears and this time you let him, he sits up and kisses your forehead wishing he had never said anything. You were his world and all he could ever ask for. Without you, who would be there for him after a bad run on patrol? or when his nightmares would start coming back? Deep down Jason Todd is scared of living, he's scared of living without you. "I won't sweetheart, I won't, I promise. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said any of that"

Now he's holding you and rubbing your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. The two of you fell back into your comfortable silence, while Jason made himself comfortable again laying his head on your lap. He hates seeing you that way, with that look of fear and worry. He never wanted to cause it. He wanted to say something but all those hours of patrol and working overtime finally caught up to him. He thought he'd just take a nap, he didn't want to burden you with how heavy he was, lying on his lap but he couldn't help you, your lap was so comfy.

For a while, you watched Jason and didn't know why you were. He said he wouldn't hurt himself, he promised. Still, you were scared because of the way he talked about it...it was clear it wasn't the first time. You knew he had fallen asleep, his tell was that his breathing had slowed. You picked that up when he started coming over early in that morning to nap with you. Jason was only ever truly calm when was he asleep with you.

Watching him like this felt natural like you had to do this. You knew he was serious about killing himself and you just couldn't imagine a life with him, without Jason. Gently you caressed his sleeping face, admiring how handsome he was. The things that happened to him, you knew they affected him but you didn't want to think he'd go as far as to…no you couldn't think of it.

You leaned your own body back on the couch and tried to relax. You'd stay all night with him if you had to, you'd make sure he was safe. You weekend a vigilante like him, you couldn't fight and protect him from villains but you could protect him from himself. It probably seems crazy that you want to protect Jason Todd from himself but it's all you know how to do. You're not completely sure if Jason loves you but you know that you love him.

"I will always be with you, I'm yours Jay, I'm with you" you whisper sweetly against his forehead, before planting a soft kiss. You watch him all night and he sleeps quietly and hopefully comfortably with his head resting on your lap. You didn't work the next day and you had stayed up all night before, this wouldn't be difficult for you.

Even if it was, it was for Jason and he was always worth any trouble. You wish you could tell him that but that's a conversation for another time, for now, you just want to make sure he is still alive every morning.

When Jason Todd wakes up the following morning, you're drinking what he thinks is probably coffee and reading a book. His eyes fixate on you and he reaches up to brush his hand against your face, you smile at the soft touch. HE lets out a yawn and finally speaks up, "Whatcha doing up so early, princess?"

"Just admiring you Jay"

"M'sorry for sleeping on you, and I'm even more sorry for making you feel upset last night, you're…you're very important to me y/n, and as long as you'll have me, I'll be here"

"And I'm with you, for as long as you'll have me" you say with a smile as you hand him the rest of your coffee. He drank the rest before gently pressing a kiss to your lips. Another reassure of his love

Jason Todd was yours for a lifetime and you were happy with just that.

❥ a/n: sorry this took so long anon! I kept rewriting it because I didn't like how it was going. btw comment to be added to my taglist.

❥ taglist: @meowkn, @nia-jul, @woodenanemone, @millyhelp, @yourlocalcringydaydreamer, @kazzattack, @orchidsangel

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androdragynous · 4 months

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I know i complained about the stardew valley penny and George cutscene at length but the it really is fucking. bizarre the lengths people will go to defend it because "the game lets you pick to side with him" (please do literally any reading about wheelchair use and realize why it's a problem that the game rewards you for moving someone without their consent.) or variants of that sentiment but then it's like. the rest of the cutscene is also So Weird

Like. Penny moves an old man in a wheelchair without asking him. He gets upset, she asks if you saw what happened The game prompts you to select from;

"I was. You did a kind thing there, Penny." (+50 friendship with Penny)

"I was. You should've asked instead of assuming George wanted help." (-50 friendship with Penny)

"I'm just taking a walk, minding my own business." (No effect on friendship.)

And these are the REVISED options. Before 1.4, the second option wasn't"you should have asked", it was "You should've left him alone. Now he's grumpy."

So already it's kind of shit. The person she's upset - who's entire existence in the game is experiencing inaccessibility, let's be real - because he was shoved without permission just for being in a wheelchair doesn't have his friendship level affected at all.

Regardless of which answer you pick, George apologizes (Penny does not apologize in every choice! But the guy she shoved does!) and says she was kind.

Once he's gone, she talks about how hard it must be to be old. It's worth noting, for what it's worth, that George has been using a wheelchair since a mining accident caused his immobility; it's not a result of age, and you learn about this whole he struggles with a bookshelf in his own home, where presumably he has been living with a wheelchair for at least two decades (given how he talks about his grandson), which is a whole different can of worms because why is this never addressed in a fictional community with multiple craftspeople who frequently do projects for each other?

Anyways. So Penny's like, damn, sucks that he's old. And the options the game gives you - all neutral in terms of friendship points - are:

"I'd rather not think about it."

"It's just a different part of life."

"That's why we should respect our elders."

"I'd rather die young..."

Like are you kidding me? You have a cutscene that's about being disabled - it's not about aging, because his disability was not caused by aging, it is explicitly and directly about the fact that he is in a wheelchair. And the game assumes your opinions will be "Not my problem,", "That's an old people thing,", and "I'D RATHER BE DEAD"? And this is something people just... don't remark on? Even in conversations ABOUT this cutscene? Like, George's mentions of being disabled are already Constantly Miserable -able-bodied writer standard quality - but the game is just like. Yeah you can say you'd rather be dead rather than express any positive sentiment about this guy surviving a traumatic mining accident. You can't say it's great that he's able to still be a part of the community in his chair, or renovate his house to make it accessible the way you can build ENTIRE HOMES for other characters. The community center you rebuild in the Good Ending for the community is only accessible by stairs. The path out of his home is dirt. It's the little things, y'know, like... obviously he wasn't thought about as his own character. The game's writing sees him as a source of conflict for others, and down to the very tiles of the terrain, he's irrelevant.

AND THEN THE TOWN DOCTOR DOES A HIPAA VIOLATION AND GETS SAD IF YOU SAY GEORGE SHOULD HAVE AGENCY OVER HIS OWN BODY. WHAT ARE WE FUCKING DOING HERE

#stardew valley #ableism #long post #IM SORRY ITS JUST LIKE. EVERY TIME SOMEONE IS LIKE NO ITS NOT ABLEIST BECAUSE SHE WAS BEING NICE #OR BC THE GAME LETS YOU MILDLY CRITICIZE HER #ITS LIKE DO YOH HEAR YOURSELFFFFF #SPEAK TO ANY DISABLED PERSON EVER PLEASEEEE #okay normal again.#ugh.#patch me through to palaven command

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carolmunson · 1 year

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wake up slow | barista!steve harrington

entry for my fall frenzy requests this request comes in from @superblysubpar: 'there's a scenario with bookstore / library date AND a dialogue prompt that says "what are you reading?"' with steve harrington summary: it's 1990. you're on the opening shift at the bookstore you work at, only to be surprised at a newcomer claiming to be up for an interview for the open barista position in the cafe at the back. sort of put off to start, it's no surprise when things start to bloom over time, and i'm not talking about coffee grounds. tl;dr carol writes a mini romcom.

tw: minors dni, there's nothing too out of whack in this one but i still don't want minors in here. reader is a little sassy but also like, pretty normal overall.

That damn key jams every time it rains -- doesn't help that you left your umbrella at home. Doesn't help that the 'light mist' turned into a heavy downpour the closer you made it to the book store. Doesn't help that you had to park a street over because of street cleaning and had to walk a block in the rain. Now the damn key.

"Come on," you grumble, jiggling an wiggling to no avail. Insert, r-insert, slight tilt to the right, jiggle, pull out a little, turn a little left and then -- nothing. You take the key out only for it to fall to the ground with a fairy like tinkling.

"Come -- the fuck -- on," you nearly growl under your breath while your coat gets heavier and heavier with rain, hood soaking through and dripping water onto your face. You bend down to get the key with a sigh meant for people with back pain, coming back up again to see the coffee bar manager on the other side of the glass door. He chuckles, salt and pepper beared thick over his chin and cheeks. Ruddy skin beams red even in the cool grey light of the morning, 30 years a butcher who pivoted into coffee when he turned fifty and had a really good knack for it.

"Easy morning?"

"Does it look like one, Carl?" you ask, stepping in when he opens the door. He laughs again, a hearty belly laugh that might as well have transported him into a Santa suit in December. "What happened to you?" he asks, following you into the back room where you start putting your stuff in your cubby. You switch out your wet sneakers and socks for the platform loafers and knee highs in your bag. Now that the fall weathers hit, it's all corduroy and knit sweaters, circle skirts and tall socks. If you're going to be on your fifth year working at an idyllic bookstore, you might as well look the part.

"Weather app lied, street cleaning, forgot an umbrella," you shrug, "Just another manic Monday, y'know?" "I know," he nods, "Gimme one second." Carl comes back with a white paper cup and black lid that makes you smile from the inside out, "Is that what I think it is?" "Isn't it always?" he smiles, "I got it ready the second I saw you on the schedule. Caramel latte, hint of cinnamon. Since its -- ya know, fall officially, I put a little maple in there, too." "You spoil me," you sigh, taking the cup from him and letting the warmth radiate through your hands.

"I do," he nods, "But, that latte was the last of my regular milk so I need to run out and grab a few gallons before we open up. You okay to be hangin' out by yourself?"

You nod, of course you're okay to be hanging out by yourself. You take the first sip, letting the caramel flood your tongue. The maple is a good addition. You're about to tell Carl to add this to the seasonal menu but he's already out the break room door with his coat before you can. You hear the jingle of the bell and the lock of the door and eventually the silence settling into the store around you.

You start to re-organize the window display which should've been done last night but 'last night you' said that 'this morning you' could handle it. You wish you could punch last night you in the face, but this is what you get for taking an assistant manager position.

You stack the back to school reads next to your knees where you're sat on them. The dust billows when you move them, making you sneeze with each turn of your head. You rub at your eyes, realizing at that very moment that the mascara you put on this morning has now definitely smudged -- you can't even find the emotional capacity to check considering the store opens in forty five minutes. You wipe down the display shelves, letting the oak gleam under the spot lights. The color is a warm reminder of the cozy moments to come the way that they do this time of year. As you start separating the 'cozy reads' from your 'spooky reads' in the pile on the other side of your knees you hear a knocking at the door --that's not very like Carl to forget his key.

You look over your shoulder, not seeing Carl at all, and if it is, he had some kind of Seventeen Again magic happen to him in that time at the store. You stand up, wiping off your knees and straightening your skirt before getting to the door where the rapping continues against the glass. "We aren't open yet!" you call out.

"M'here for Carl!" you hear, muffled through the panes. "For the barista spot?" you yell back. The guy nods under his hood, the rain picking up in heavy sheets. You sigh, unlocking the door and letting him in. "Carl's not here, he ran out to get some more milk but um, you're welcome to wait in the break room if you want," you explain, wiping a palm over another display through the main hallway and wiping the dust off on your hip. "Thanks," he says, hood coming down to reveal a head full of thick chestnut hair. A gold ring shines on the the hand that runs through it, looks like a family crest type, right on his middle finger.

"I'm Steve," he says with a smile, hand now outstretched to take yours. You look at it and then at him, finally taking in the sight before you. Prominent straight nose, warm amber eyes, lips that definitely use chapstick regularly. He has a nice smile, the kind you read about in the romance novels in the back of the store, the kind people write about.

You take his hand and introduce yourself, he has a business major handshake and you only know that because you dated a handful of them back in college. You try to stifle a chuckle but it comes out airily out of your nose.

"Something funny?" he asks when you both let go. "No, no, sorry, I just thought of something from the other day," you shake your head, "Don't worry about it." He nods, taking off his coat and closing his umbrella following your lead to the back, "It's a cute place."

"Yeah, it's nice in the morning," you nod, "I normally close but -- doing a favor for a key holder today; so you have the pleasure of seeing the troll of the store in her natural habitat."

"What?"

"Nothing -- nevermind," you shake your head, cheeks burning with a wave of embarrassment when you look back and notice that he's genuinely very handsome. You get to the break room, pointing out the spare cubby where he can hang his coat and umbrella. He's in a sweater you swear you've seen on the Cosby Show -- dark green and patterned, a perfect combination of colors against his skin. It cuffs at the wrists, you can see a sliver of his white t-shirt underneath at the collar, a whisper of a gold chain tucked beneath it.

"Yeah um," you start, feeling your heart start to patter in your chest when he takes a seat at the table by the cabinets, "You can just wait here. I'll let Carl know when he comes back."

"Okay," he smiles, "Thanks."

You nod again, heading into the employee bathroom to collect yourself for a moment -- seeing your reflection. You forgot you had rubbed your eyes, masacra smudged in black smears nearly down to your cheeks. "I look insane," you whisper in horror, "Oh my fucking god."

You cover your face for a moment, trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment racking your chest. Definitely looking like the troll of the store, you silently scream into your palms, another dramatic whisper of, "I should just fucking kill myself."

Despite the humiliation, you know it's funny. This would happen to you. This hot guy would come in when your mascaras a mess and your hair is fucked up from the rain, when the weather is bad and your tights have a run, when your allergies are rampant from the dust. Of course he would!

You wet a paper towel and do your best to wipe off the smudges, happy to look a little less insane after a dab of tinted lip balm makes it onto your lips and cheeks.

When you re-emerge he's fiddling with his CD player and his over ear headphones, working on a knot in the wire. You go back over to the counter and take a sip of your forgotten latte.

"What do you drink?" he asks.

"Carl makes it special for me, it's not on the menu," you tell him over the black plastic top before taking another sip. He grins, a soft nod moving his hair with him -- so it's like that. "I didn't ask if it was on the menu. I asked what you drink," he says, leaning back in the chair. His eyes lingering on you sends a zip up your spine, wondering if he's giving you a once over or not.

"It's a caramel latte with maple and cinnamon," you tell him. His confidence both intruiges and enrages you, both making you want to tell him to get out but also learn more about this hot guy that wants to be a barista with a Wall Street handshake, "So why do you wanna work here?"

"Is this the start of my interview?" he laughs.

"No, I'm just wondering," you shrug.

"I'm back in school about twenty minutes away," he says, "Did it for a little when I was in high school -- coffee, I mean. Ice cream shop after that, video store after that. Went to school, took a break, back in it. My dad thinks having jobs like this builds y'know -- character and whatever."

"Jobs like this?" you ask, jaw tensing with annoyance.

"Like, y'know, jobs with the people," he tries to explain, pink building on his cheeks when he realizes he might've said something shitty, "They're not like bad jobs, that's not what I mean -- I mean like, y'know -- not suits kind of jobs. Regular shit."

"Regular shit," you nod, biting back what you wanna say. That gold crest ring should've been enough to tip you off, but your next question is the ace in the hole, "What're you back in school for?"

"Getting my MBA."

Of course.

"Nice," you lie, fake smiling into your next sip -- the latte going cold as your insides when you come to the conclusion that he's just some hot grade A asshole, "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," he calls out while you make your way back to the floor, "I really like your name, by the way! It suits you."

You try not to let that compliment change your mind.

He gets the job, but you don't see him a lot. He opens an then goes to classes at night, you close most of the time -- only catching him really in the first hour of your shift and the last hour of his. You're both too busy to be finding time to talk; him with his mid-shift clean and you with your hourly sales goals and mid-day schedule re-adjustments.

But he does wave when you come in. He calls out your name when you bustle past the coffee counter and weave through the tables to get to where you need to go. It's nice of him, you guess, but the stain of him explaining that the job he's doing is just for regular people taints it for you. Maybe he thinks you're just some menial worker bee that he only knows for now, since his daddy probably has a job lined up for him once he pays through his masters degree.

Job with a suit where the bookstore will be a distant memory for him, whereas you're on a two year track to becoming the manager and likely future owner when the owners get too old to manage it. Job with a suit where he'll pass by the store and shake his head at 'how stupid it was', a 'can you believe people work there?' head toss to a coworker while he get a coffee somewhere else. Meanwhile, it's your entire life, and so are all the stories inside.

A few weeks pass and the days get a little colder, the nights starting earlier as they go. You have an opening shift that chills your bones, hugging your wool coat tight to your body while you fiddle with the key at the door, groaning at the tinkling of it hitting the concrete again.

"Rough morning?"

You look up to the door opening, seeing a pair clean white Nike Air Force 1's singaling who it is.

"It is now," you mumble, grabbing the key and bustling inside.

"Surprised to see you here," he says, following you to the back, "You're not on the schedule." "Last minute switch up, Rochelle has a christening," you say, hanging your coat in the cubby and switching out your sneakers for platfoms again.

"Oh, nice," he grins, "So why is it a rough morning? 'Cause I'm here?"

"Sorta kinda," you shrug, "Did you alread--"

"I got sales report from yesterday on the check out desk, yes," he crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame.

"And th--"

"And the inventory report, and before you ask, yes I checked that all the milk is in stock and that we aren't low on beans. I've been here for a month, honey, I know what I'm doing," he mutters.

"Gross," you pull a face at him over your shoulder, "Don't call me honey."

He shrugs with a smirk, "Rochelle likes it."

"Can you go skulk to your caffeine den and leave me alone?" you snap, "I'm trying to open a store, here."

"Skulk, huh?"

"Too big of a word for you, Harrington?"

"You're on fire this morning," he smiles, that smile they write about.

"I kinda like it," he adds before turning out of the door and back into the warm light of the store towards the coffee bar. You swallow while you watch him leave -- I kinda like it ringing in your ears and floating down to your chest where is settles in, cozy and kind.

The reports are where he said the would be, neat and organized like he was the manager and Carl was his employee. You normally spent at least thirty minutes trying to figure out what Carl had written in chicken scratch on the forms, but Steve's sharp and elegant script was easy to read and perfectly spaced. Annoying.

Even his signature was handsome.

After you get the registers counted and ready you file the forms and mark the reports so they'll be ready for your manager when they get back in store. You check the list of what needs to be done, the chilly late October air swooping in from the cracks under the door. Your face sours while you make your way over to the coffee bar in the back, seeing Steve set up the pastry delivery in the cases on the side.

"Did you come back here to yell at me about something?" he asks, focused on the task at hand, "I got all morning."

"You didn't turn the heat on," you cross your arms, "That's like, the first thing you're supposed to do."

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head, popping back up to lean on glass of the case, "Did you read your morning report or just sit there and admire my handwriting?"

"Excuse me?" you bite back.

"Heats fucked," he shrugs, ducking back down to finishing his display, "They're sending someone to take a look at it later today."

"Whatever," you grumble, turning on your heel to go dust the front shelving and reshelf the returns from yesterday.

"Hey," he calls out, waiting for you to turn around before he continues. Your eyes catch his amber ones, sparkling with a mischief reserved for school boys who are mean to the girls they like, "You look nice today."

You look him over, sucking in your cheeks to kill the smile growing on your lips. His navy sweater hugs a bit across his chest and shoulders, giving way to billow slightly over his midsection and arms. Kahki chinos cut just at his ankles so his sneakers don't even look stupid paired with the outfit, socks just the right height to look cool and not forced. Awful.

"Yeah, you too Harrington," you agree quietly before walking away; and while you killed the smile, he was able to catch that crease in your eyes, the twitch in your shoulders. You thought that was nice, he wonders if he can make you do that again.

You head over to the back of the cafe during your break, no windows near your designated 'break chair'. It's close enough to the fireplace that it always feels like a rainy day even when it's nice outside. Now that Carl started his shift he got your drink ready to go the moment you walked over.

"Well la-di-da," Steve cocks his head when Carl walks over to greet the customer at the register, rag in his hands wiping up the pick up counter, "Expert service and you're not even gonna tip?"

"Here's a tip: leave me alone when I'm on break," you bite. Why did he have to be so handsome? Slight pink on his cheeks from the heat of the espresso and coffee machines, the lights overhead. The heat finally works again and it's almost working too well from the small bead of sweat forming above his brow. He runs a big hand through his hair again, the same way he did when you first met him. You try to ingore the way his bicep bulges in his sleeve when his arm stretches.

His tongue runs over his teeth, settling between them for a second before looking straight at you, "Good one."

"That's what you get when you read books," you say sarcastically, "You should try it sometime."

"You should teach me," he leans over the counter, resting his chin on his palm, "Bet you're a great teacher."

You bite your tongue, pulling in your lips and squinting your eyes to keep the smile from brewing a second time. You pick up your mug and sip your latte while he crosses his arms over his chest. "Nothing this time?" he asks, waiting for you second blow. You shake your head no, occupying your mouth with the rim.

"No?" He asks, you shake your head again, somehow glued to the spot under his stare. He slings the rag over his shoulder, still looking at you. "Well I don't wanna keep you standing here," he teases, offering you a wink that is so soul crushingly charming you could just die, "Enjoy your break."

You've never turned around so quickly in your entire life.

The following week you take another opening shift, happy to settle into the quiet of the cafe now that the morning rush of moms, dads, students, and aspiring writers have cleared out. The fire crackles just right, the leather warmed up to your body heat while the book sucks you in further an further. Thirty minutes pass when you hear a shift infront of you, the subtle squeak of leather being sat in with a soft crunch.

"What're you reading?"

You peer over the top of the spine to see Steve sat in the chair across from you, legs open wide while he leans his forearms on his knees. His long fingers slide together, gold ring shining in the light again to remind you of who he is and where he comes from. As handsome as he is today in his black henley and white t-shirt combo you'll never quite forget the fact that some MBA bro is perched in front of you like a puppy with nowhere to go.

"Sound out the cover, that should tell you," you boredly mumble before tucking back into the chair. His fingers peak over the spine, pushing the book down from the top. He pulls the leather chintz closer to yours with ease -- of course he does.

"Or you could tell me," he says with a softness you weren't ready to hear. Your chest gets warm again, creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

"It's Pride and Prejudice."

"S'that your favorite book or something?" he asks, elbow driving into his thigh so he can rest his chin on his fist.

"One of them," you shrug, "I always read it this time of year, kind of fits the mood of the season."

"Hm," he nods, like he's really listening, "What's it about?"

"Basically," you start, thinking of a way to describe it in two sentences or less, "It's like -- hm -- it's about two people, a love story. One guy is some super rich asshole and he's a jerk because the girl isn't as rich and him. And the girl isn't from the same social standing so she's a jerk because she already assumes that he's a super rich asshole. Like...I don't know, idiots in love who are too stubborn to love each other."

"Hm," he nods again, grin splitting his face, "Interesting."

"What's your favorite book?" you ask, wanting to wipe that smug grin right off his face. His dumb handsome face with that perfect sloped nose, and eyes that look like they're looking directly into you.

"I don't have one," he shrugs.

"You have to have one," you balk, "Like, even if it's one you read in school or something." "Hmm," he sits back up, leaning back in the chair with his hands resting just under his chest.

"You have to know how to read to run a business," you shrug.

"I know how to read, honey," he laughs, "I just don't have a favorite book."

"At least try," you ecourage, albiet annoyed. He taps his fingers on his diaphragm, one knee bouncing while he thinks about it. His shirt rides up just a smidge in the back, revealing a sliver of skin you didn't think you'd ever see.

"Shel Silverstein," he says finally, "Where the Sidewalk Ends."

"You didn't strike me as a poetry guy," you say, closing your book over your finger to hold your place.

"My mom went through this poetry phase -- and I'm my mother's son, so I had a poetry phase with her," he shrugs, "We wore that book out, think we had to get a second copy cause the first one was just like -- destroyed."

"Well that's...you know," you lean your head from side to side, "That's nice. It's cute."

"You'd know, right?" he smiles, that god damn smile Shel would write about in a new book. You'd bring back book burning just to throw it in the flames after it was published. He gets up, disappearing behind you for a moment and reappearing with your favorite green mug. He gingerly places it on the side table next to you.

"Compliments of the chef," he says, presenting it like a Michelin star meal.

You look at it, a perfect pour -- the cream rosetta leaf striking against the warm brown espresso. You can smell the caramel and maple already wafting off it, cinnamon sprinkled delicately on top.

"Um, thanks," you say quietly, taking the mug to your lips. He looks down at you eagerly when you take a sip, waiting for your reaction.

"Did you do something to it?" you ask before you take one.

"No I'm just -- damn, come on. I'm excited to see you try it," he sighs, "I worked hard on it."

"Fine, fine," you murmur, letting the latte flood onto your tongue. Its -- regrettably -- one of the best iterations of you've had in a while. The perfect creaminess without being too milky, enough caramel and maple without being too sweet, the espresso's bitterness cuts the sugar in just the right way to make it smooth. He knows he did it right by the way you go for a second sip without saying anything.

"I did good?" he quirks a brow.

"You did good," you nod.

"Good," he smiles, tapping the top of your chair, "'Cause Carl's putting it on the menu starting in November."

"How come?" you ask into your third sip, the steam billowing over your cheeks.

Steve lets his eyes flicker over your face slowly, offering a half shrug, "I told him to."

November brings the first pre-season snow, not that it mattered now that your favorite drink was a regular menu item now. Caramel and maple always in stock, espresso machine always on first thing in the morning.

You open twice a week now, seeing Steve more often than not. Dropping your key became less common now that he was normally at the door when you'd get there, ready to let you in.

"Another great day, right?" he'd tease.

Now that the holidays were in full swing the bookstore was busier than ever -- sales, bundles, events. You even started carrying children's coloring books and crayons in the kid's section; a whole set up just for kids to sit and color while their parent's browsed.

The stress was getting to you, constantly checking and rechecking the end of day sales versus last year, wanting to make sure everything was on a steady incline with a nice cushion for the next. It helped that the cafe seemed to be absolutely climbing in numbers since September. More and more people wanted to spend time over there, and the more time they spent the more time they looked at books or started reading. It wasn't shocking to see people checking out at the counter with a second coffee and a new book or two in hand.

You don't want it to be true, but you're sure the new barista had a play in what makes so many people stick around. You'd see the way Steve would flirt when he took orders, how he's listen to them intently, make every customer feel like they were the only person in the room.

At least that's how he'd make you feel when he caught your gaze from over the shelving, helping find books for new patrons from the college nearby. You both started to wave at each other at each passing glance, each look caught by surprise, each accidental yearning stare.

Mid-November greets you with a bitter chill, the very early morning doesn't even have the decency to greet with you the rising sun. It'll be atleast another half hour until then.

For the first time in a long time you don't drop the key, pushing into the store with ease. You waste no time turning the heat on, making sure the radiators bled a bit before hand. You rub your hands together while they settle in, putting your coat away in the cubby and switching out your shoes in the break room.

Opening on a Saturday morning isn't common for you, but it's the first event you've planned by yourself. A very simple read-along story telling with some kids from the neighborhood and their parents. You collected three solid winter time reads: The Mitten, The Snowy Day, and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. A solid hour of reading while the parents could peruse, or sit and watch while their kids tuned into a book instead of cartoons on Nick Jr.

Once you've given yourself the onceover for the morning you feel more confident about the upcoming next few hours. Your knit tights fit snugly over your legs, a touch sheered out with the stretch over your thighs but the pleats in your plaid maroon skirt cover that just fine, hitting just above your knees -- still covered, still sensible. Still cute enough to snag a single dad if one were to show up.

Your feet stay tucked in a pair of worn in platform mary-janes stolen from your sister's New York City closet when you went to visit her over the summer. The chunky knit sweater over the whole ensemble completes you, a spitting image of a 'caught on the street' look you saw in a Seventeen magazine that you still get delivered to you despite being well past the age group.

You thrifted the sweater with Steve in mind, it looked like something he'd wear.

Anyway.

As you set up the 'reading rug' in the cafe area you hear the familar unlocking of the door. The sun finally starting to seep in in golden shards through the panes, leaving squares of light on the wood floors and carpets below.

"Hey Carl!" you call out, "I got everything up and running for you."

You hear the keys jingle but not his smoker's cough, not his heavy steps finding their way to the cafe area. Instead you look up to see Steve with his hands on his hips, watching you struggle to move the leather chintz to the back wall as your reading chair.

"Redecorating?" he asks, looking around the cafe. Under his shearling lined aviator jacket is an open hunter green flannel you wouldn't expect to see him in, his white t-shirt underneath hugs tights to his chest and stomach. You unfortunately noticed how great of a view that is for you.

"Um," you started, looking around the room and the dissaray you seem to have made without realizing, "Why are you here?"

"Same reason your here," he says, stepping forward to shoo you away from the chair, "I'm on the payroll."

"You don't work weekends," you say, crossing your arms over your chest while he lifts the chair over the rug with a soft grunt.

"I do today," he says with a slight strain, "Where do you want this?"

"Uh," you start, "Just right in the center against the wall so everyone can see me."

"Oh, so you're reading to the kids this morning?" he laughs to himself after putting the chair down. He wipes his hands off on each other, shrugging off the jacket and holding it in one arm, "Bitter Betty is gonna entertain the young minds of Main Street?"

"Bitter Betty, huh?" you challenge, following him into the back room, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he shakes his head.

"I am very sweet," you tell him, a serious edge to your voice, "There are so many customer reviews saying how sweet I am."

"Sure," he nods, putting his coat away in his cubby, "I bet there are; since y'know, you're selling them something."

"I'm not just nice when I'm selling something," you say softly, arms coming protectively across your chest. A frustration bubbles in your chest while you look at him, following him back out into the cafe so you can keep getting the place ready before the families start to show up, "You think you know everything."

"I don't," he shakes his head, smiling while he checks over the machines and gets the first pot of coffee started.

"Yeah, you do. You walked in here two months ago and swear you know everything," you huff, getting the cafe back to a place of organized coziness.

"Okay," he chuckles, "Whatever you say, boss."

"You're infuriating," you mumble under your breath.

"Got that caramel latte coming right up for you, by the way," he says warmly.

Your head turns to see him watching you, he smiles, "Maybe you're a little nicer after you've had a coffee."

You smile back, unable to stop it this time.

"So that's a yes, right?" he cocks his head, fingers drumming on the counter while he watches you. That Harringtom charm pumping out at full speed.

"Y-yeah," you nod, "Whatever. You gonna go chop down a tree, Harrington? What's with the flannel?"

He looks down at his shirt and then back up at you with a soft shake of his head, "I better hurry up and get that started for you."

The kids look up at you with starry eyes, their parents smiling along with their coffees, lattes, espressos, and pastries. The Mitten was a hit and The Snowy Day is so far showing up to be a great follow up.

You take your time to really point out the pictures and adding on to the story since all three of them are pretty short. However, you're finding that kids between two and five are pretty easy to entertain if you do enough counting and make enough sound effects. Maybe you should've been a kindergarten teacher -- or maybe not. Maybe you should just keep doing book events.

You're halfway through when you show the illustrations to the group again, listening to them ooh and ahh at all the snow.

"Did um -- Miss -- did you know -- it snowed? It snowed at my house," one of the older kids announces, arm straight up in the air.

"It snowed last week, Michael, that's right," his mom pipes up, "Daddy had to shovel outside."

"Has everyone else seen snow? Raise your hand if you've seen this much snow!" you announce in your perfect parentese, watching while the older kids and parents raise their hands. The two year olds don't really get it so they just sit there and laugh.

You look up at all the hands, an enthusiastic 'Wow!' coming out of your mouth -- but you barely hear it. Behind the hands are a set of warm amber eyes looking at you from the coffee bar, soft and gentle. Enthralled even. You swallow and lick your lips quickly before smiling, catching his smile back as you look back at the book to start again.

After each couple of pages you catch each other, the pink on his cheeks rising when he looks away -- pretending to be occupied with something else. Cleaning, organizing, resetting the espresso machine. He can tell you're flustered by the way you clear your throat whenever you start to read again.

After The Snowy Day you take a ten minute break so that the parents can take their kids to the bathroom or re-up their beverages. The tip jar is full to bursting because nobody knows how to make a single mom feel like Steve Harrington does; and husbands will pay anything to get him to leave their wives alone.

You reset your chair, making sure the books you're reading are on display for purchasing on the shelving close by in your Winter Children's Bundle for a discounted price. As the ten minutes closes up you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

"Here," you turn around to Steve with a green mug in his hands, "It's just regular coffee this time, but -- figured you could use it."

You take it body first, reaching around for the handle only to feel his fingers brush against yours at the hand of. The soft touch isn't electric like it is in the books, it's like that but better. Warm like an oven, the gooey parts of you rising in a slow bake when you see him look down and turn away -- running that same hand through his hair on his way back to the counter.

"Thanks," you say over the chatter of parents and kids coming back to sit.

"Can I have something ready for you for your break?" he asks back.

"Surprise me," you shrug, sitting back on your chintz chair and taking the final book onto your lap. The kids cheer when they see Snoopy on the cover, a well loved favorite cartoon to finish off their morning. With the crack of the spine you can already smell the sales coming once this little event is over.

You work through your break, ringing up and helping customer after customer on easily one of the busiest Saturday's you've seen in a while. It normally doesn't get busy like this at least for another couple of weeks.

The stress of working through lunch barely matters though because your event was a bigger success than you could've hoped for -- logging in the notes for Rochelle that you should probably start doing this throughout the season just for good measure.

It's starting to get dark by the time your shift ends and the store closes -- early on Saturdays at a tight 4 PM. You let your sales girl go a little early, wanting to take the time to close up the store properly since you were the one who made it such a mess this morning. As you start to put the chairs back that had been moved from the cafe to the children's section you hear him, fingers tapping on the counter.

"You didn't come by for your break," he says, "And I put a lot of effort into that drink."

"Sorry, we can't all be flirting through our shifts like you can, Harrington," you snark with a grin, flipping the last chair over onto it's accompanied table.

"You don't have to clean up the coffee part of the store," he says, coming around with another mug in hand, "That's my job, y'know."

"I know," you say, "But I kind of fucked it up this morning so -- just doing my part."

"Well, here," he says, mug outstretched in his large hand, gold ring gleaming back at you, "For doing your part, I guess."

"You guess, huh?" you laugh lazily, taking it -- he places his fingers in a way that you have no choice but to touch them. You wonder if he did it on purpose, "What do you call this one?"

"'Surprise me'," he replies in a mocking drawl, flipping the rag over his shoulder again and leaning against the counter's edge. The first sip is unfortunately one of the most even temperatured hot drinks you've put past your lips.

"You're good at this," you blurt out, almost offended.

"Well don't look so upset about it."

"I am upset about it," you nod back over the lip of the mug, taking another sip. Mocha -- something. It's like hot chocolate and espresso but better, still caramel, still cinnamon, like a hug from your past but caffienated like your present.

"Consider me surprised," you nod, licking your lips again, "It's good -- it's um -- yeah. It's really good."

"Thanks," he smirks, "A few of the mom's thought so, too."

You let out a sigh through your teeth, rolling your eyes. He expected that, taking a step forward when your gaze comes back to center. You can smell the left over wraiths of his cologne and Old Spice deodorant, count the moles on his neck adorned with his hidden gold chain, see the hair on his forearms from his rolled up sleeves.

"You know something," he says quietly, "If I didn't know any better -- I'd think you like me."

"Like you?" you balk, eyes widening, "You wish."

He clicks his tongue when you get so defensive because it just proves him right. He crosses his arms with another step forward, head cocking to the side slightly while he sizes you up. Why did his creator need to make his forearms so beefy? So perfectly sculpted that you can't look at them without losing your train of thought? Stupid.

"I don't think I have to wish, honey," he says softly, Doc Martins creaking on the wooden floors, "I think...uh, I think I must allow you to tell me how ardently you admire and like me."

Your mouth falls open, staring at him with eyes as glassy at the kids who watched you read this morning.

"You -- no -- you read it?"

"Maybe," he says, another step forward, his arms bumping against your chest.

"Maybe?" you ask back, brow quirking.

"Yeah, maybe I did," he runs a hand through his hair, falling back away from his face to show off his sturdy brow bone, watching you with admiration down the slope of his nose.

He reaches down and takes the mug out of your hand with smooth finesse, arm long enough to reach back and place it on the counter behind him. When he leans back in place he's closer than before, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose.

"Maybe I bought it the day you told me about it," he shrugs, "Maybe I thought it was pretty close to something I had goin' on with a girl I know."

"A girl you know?" you challenge. You know exactly who he means, but it might be fun to hear him say it. "Yeah, sometimes I only see her like, an hour a day. But sometimes I get to watch her read on her break, sometimes I get to close with her on Saturdays," he explains warmly, the timbre of his voice deep against the crackling of the fire in the back corner of the cafe.

"This is the only Saturday you've closed with me," you counter, head tilting up slightly, close enough that the tip of your nose brushes his.

"Who said I was talking about you, honey?" he murmurs back, mischief in his eyes that are half hidden by his eyelids. You feel a puff of his breath over your top lip, still minty fresh like he just brushed his teeth.

"We both know you're talking about me," you smirk, self satisfied while his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes. He steps at an angle, making you step back so you're against the pick up counter.

"So sure of yourself," he he scoffs quietly, leaning over you and getting into your space. Each hand coming to the side of you to lean on the granite, caging you in, "I like that in a pretty girl."

"Most do," you shrug matter of factly.

"Yeah," he nods, "Think that's what I like about you."

"Maybe that's what I like about you, too," you nearly whisper out.

"Maybe?" he asks, lower lip ghosting over yours. "Mayb--"

The hand he uses to run through his hair finds itself flat over the back of yours, sliding down to over your cheek and jaw where he keeps you angled just right. He closes the millimeters between you, warm lips catching yours in a kiss that feels like passion but a power play you want to match.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, heads moving in soft tilts when you change angles. When you find yourself sat on the edge of the counter he uses the leverage to pull you close to him, hips between the fullness of your thighs.

His tongue skates over yours when it slides into your mouth, free hand ridding up the soft material of your tights, tips of his fingers inching under the hem of your skirt in an innocent tease.

Even the way he breathes through it is sexy, leaving you with a lingering guess of what he can do when he presses his lips against your neck. Tongue flitting and striping while he nearly nips a bruise onto your skin. You let out a gentle gasp, enough to admit defeat to him -- much to your chagrin. Steve comes back up to your lips to meet you with a few final deep kisses before you break apart.

He steps back once, the deep golden light of the sun setting cracks through the panes of the back window in the cafe, adoring him in a glow that shines of his hair and eyes. The kind of glow they write about, the kind of glow you read about.

You both take deep breaths, eyes hungry for each other -- unsure if you should go for more. He lingers, coming forward again to rest his hands on your thighs.

"I didn't read it," he confesses. "Pfffft. Why am I not surprised?" you huff, exasperated.

"But! But, but, but," he argues back, pecking you feverishly, "I had to go to like, five different places to find the movie from 1980 so -- I did actually put some effort into it."

"I love that one," you say back.

"I get points for that, right?" he asks expectantly.

"Yeah, fine. You're luck you're cute," you explain, "But you do definitely have to read it, at some point. If you wanna keep making out with me in the cafe after closing."

"Oh, absolutely," he grins, hand reaching to pull you in by the back of the neck for a final searing kiss, "You'll have to teach me, remember?"

You of course start closing together every single Saturday.

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #barista!steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington imagine

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transmascaraa · 2 months

Note

Hi! It's 🍓 anon again >_<

May I request Ga ming, Freminet, Thoma, Aether, Scaramouche + whoever you wanna add with a S/O whos kinda a depressed bed rotter?

yk, doesn't really get out of bed, doesn't take care of themselves

example: brushing their hair, their teeth, eating, cleaning (they don't know how to cook or do a lot for themselves anymore)

I've been kinda a bed rotter these months (few years) it's actually really embarrassing being in this state 😭😭

multiple characters headcannons!

bed rotter.

characters: gaming, freminet, thoma, aether, wanderer x gn!reader

author's note: hi long time no see(it's been a few days)🥰 sorry for the lack of posts lately lmfao i kinda had basically NO motivation for writing whatsoever but i'm back for this one now‼️(i was busy with obsessing over the natlan characters for half of the time yes) so like i hope you enjoy this rn lol ^^ (🍓anon you're not alone in that state😔 it happens)

✷ Gaming

-WILL take care of you if you won't

-didn't get out of bed to eat?

-breakfast in bed, dinner in bed, lunch in bed just for you.

-he will brush your hair for you. (if you have longer hair/hair that can be brushed lol and if not, ignore this lmao😭)

-don't feel motivated to get up? he'll do his best to motivate you to get you out of bed, but if it doesn't work, he'll try again tomorrow.

-he never loses hope like he's literally sure of himself that he will help you one day

-and it works because he's literally the sweetest bf ever for caring about you

-if you don't wash your teeth or something, he WILL offer to wash your teeth in bed somehow for you but sometimes that offer was literally what made you get up

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

☆ Freminet

-again, will be absolutely the most caring and understanding bf of all time

-problems with brushing your teeth? okay, you don't have to do it immediately. if too much time passes he'll motivate you out of bed.

-not eating? he's gonna cook you the best food ever and bring it to you in bed.

-and he'll even bring some really tasty food from the house of the hearth if it ends up being really good for you.

-if your room is a mess, judging by the type of person he is, he'll clean it for you.

-but he won't kill himself for you, instead, he will try to motivate you throughout doing things that make you happy like drawing in front of you if you like drawing and stuff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✧ Thoma

-literally will do anything and everything to make sure you feel okay

-trying to motivate you through sending you some typa tiktoks like "dancing in the rain together<3" with the caption "we should do this💕" or stuff that is very wholesome WHILE not being in bed and rotting basically

-i mean it did help quite a few times

-about the food part, you know who thoma is. he will cook for you BUT sometimes he will force you to get out of bed just to eat with him in the kitchen

-that's a really big thing actually (to get you out of your bed at all) and he's proud of it.

-will try to motivate you to brush your teeth by walking in your room while he's brushing his(i have no idea why i js think he might)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✿ Aether

-okay YES

-y'know how thoma got you out of bed by making you come to the kitchen to eat sometimes? yeah? well aether does it ALL the time.

-literally there isn't a time he will bring you food in your bed unless you've stopped bed rotting.

-brushing teeth? he will not let you come out of the bathroom when you go in to do literally anything(might force you to take a shower sometimes as well)

-if your room is messy, he'll just quietly scold you to himself while cleaning everyone for you, then afterwards confronting you about it

-another way to also get you out of your bed is him calling you to the living room to see some random video/tiktok instead of just sending it to you(it usually works)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

★ Wanderer

-does NOT tolerate this shit

-nuh uh not in the LEAST bit

-wanna eat instead of literally starve to death? come to the kitchen yourself(the best food is waiting you there)

-not showering and/or not brushing your teeth? he will scold you and insult you(lovingly) until you get up and do everything to be clean in the bathroom.

-messy room? standing next to your door with his arms crossed looking at you as if you were his 4th betrayal hoping that you care for him enough to do something for HIM if not for yourself.

-but like deep down, which he won't admit, if you don't do something he tells you to because you feel that bad and unmotivated, he might let it slide and tell you beautiful things while you're asleep on his chest.

-he loves you no matter how big of a bed rotter you are tho

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

woah i love scara's part

anyways i liked it as a whole lol

i hope you guys like it too^^

| @mariaace <3

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systemadministratorclu · 9 months

Text

Y'all, I just HAD to share this, because holy shit.

A little background first:

I run the drive-thru cash register window at a fast food joint. One of the shittiest jobs there is because some of the rudest/stupidest people on the planet come through the drive-thru, and one must have near superhuman patience to deal with it. That said, there are customers who come regularly and are not hard to deal with at all. And then there are some-very few and far between-that restore your faith in humanity a little every time they come.

This is about one such customer.

This guy comes every day at about the same time with his grandson (6 years old when this started, recently turned 7) and gets the exact same thing every time. To the point where now either I see their car or I hear the guy say his name (whichever happens first) and I'm already ringing them up. Because of this, the kid now thinks I have weirdly specific psychic powers, and has said he prefers coming to the place when I'm there. He's also decided I'm the best employee this place has. The granddad talks to me like I'm a human, they're always smiling and happy to see me (which means a lot in this line of work, let me tell you) and even on my shittiest days, they've managed to make me smile. I genuinely look forward to seeing these people every day.

Recently, grandson was hella excited to tell me he had a birthday coming up. Reminded me every day "my birthday's coming!" as most 6yo kids do.

Maybe I was feeling a little holiday spirit or something, but one day after work, I went to the Dollar Tree near the restaurant. I picked out a kid's birthday card and a Christmas card. I wrote a message in the Christmas one about what I just explained above, thanking them for bringing some joy to my days, because y'know what? People need to hear that shit. Especially in today's world. And I wanted them to know how much this meant to me. I wrote a little joke in the birthday card about not forgetting the day. Then I looked in my wallet, saw I had a $10 and a $1, and stuck the $10 in the birthday card. Addressed the birthday card to the kid and the Christmas one to kid and grandpa. I give the cards to them on their normal drive-thru visit. They are of course surprised (kid starts yelling "thank you" even though he hasn't gotten to open it yet) but thankful. Then the line moves on.

Fast forward to today.

I see the car come in but I don't start ringing the order up, because it's WAY early for them. I give my usual greeting, then I hear a woman's voice, so I think it's someone in the same kind of car. But when she asks "is this Hal?" I then realize it's the kid's mother, whom he has told all about me and who has come through with him before.

I say yes, and she tells me she's not here to order anything, just to see me, since kid and granddad are sick. I tell her to come on to the window, she does, and hands me a card and a nicely wrapped gift. I asked her to tell them hi for me, she said she would and then the line moved.

I got off on lunch break and opened card and gift.

I was not prepared. At all.

This is the gift...

...the card (no writing on the front).....

.....and the typed note inside the card that actually brought tears to my eyes.

......I'm still not over this. I will be thinking about how this went on for OVER HALF A FUCKING YEAR and I had no idea.

This is the kind of stuff that makes this shitty job worth it. People like this....We need more of in this world. I'm going to hold onto that note so when I feel like shit or I don't matter, I can look at it and know there's a kid out there who I am so important to that he got his dad to write a whole-ass letter, to some random stranger he only knows through his son, inviting me to their fucking house. I'm tearing up again as I write this, just thinking about it.

If that doesn't say "you matter", idk what does.

(And yes, I will go at some point, because how can I not? I'm not gonna dash this kid's hopes and make myself look like an enormous asshole. This is the RL version of being handed a toy phone and told it's ringing)

#I'm crying and so are you.#ooc

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genericpuff · 4 months

Text

oh boy it's that time again

when rachel posts 'video progress' of her work and we proceed to dissect it like a frog in 9th grade science class

like ok first the caption of "is persephone the chicken and hades the egg" makes no fucking sense except to anyone who overthinks it and goes "wait is that a reference to the popularly-perpetuated version of the myth where persephone went down to the underworld willingly and hades didn't actually exist???" because if it is ima scream lmao

but MORE IMPORTANTLY-

Here's the transcript of what she's saying in the video:

"I think I've always wanted to write Hades' and Persephone's story because obviously I really like them. It's like very much a chicken and egg situation because I think in the beginning I thought that I was going to use a very abstract black and white style, and I realized it wasn't very enticing or fun for me, um... and I started drawing these very like vibrant characters and as I drew them I understood more about the story the more that I explored the art style, um and I guess an example of that is, y'know, Persephone is like a very bright color um, and the Underworld, is a very dark dark blue, and so when she says she really sticks out so it's just environmental uh processes like that that really helped inspire the direction of the story."

(despite her expanding on the "chicken and the egg" bit it still doesn't make sense imo lmao)

But what we're seeing isn't S1 LO, it's actually from S3 of LO:

But um... you notice anything interesting about the screenshot I just showed you?

That literally looks NOTHING like what we see in the final panel. At the VERY least I think this goes to show how overcooked it becomes in post-production, when they add the canvas layer and hypersaturate the shit out of the colors, but even the blending technique just isn't matching up?

A lot of what she's doing in this video also feels very... non-existent, like she's brushing her pen around but very little is happening so it feels more like her just putting down random brush strokes to try and make it seem put-together but really she's just kind of pushing colors around and/or doing nothing. Especially when, again, what she's painting here looks nothing like the final picture (so at best it's a lot of wasted work??)

And knowing what we know about the assistants drawing the characters separately so that Rachel can rearrange them in the final episode layout... I don't wanna call foul play here, but this feels like yet another attempt on Rachel's behalf to make her process seem more involved than it is by simply redrawing a scene for the performative aspect of it all. It's like the "sketches" in the books looking way too 'clean' for the final product and giving the impression that she just sketched over the final panels to make them look pretty enough for print.

I also wanna mention that for some reason she's drawing this on her iPad when she owns a Cintiq. It could be because she was drawing this while abroad in the US for her conventions last fall, but despite clearly being ahead of schedule, she still wound up drawing the final episode the night of-

Oh yeah and btw there are like a million clipping layers for what looks like just a simple drawing of Demeter. And this lines up with our previous theories about her using like 128549021809 layers for literally one character.

And aside from all that her commentary, as always, is very nothingburger, just a bunch of word salad. Like she's literally trying to explain LO's color theory as "well Persephone is bright pink and the Underworld is dark blue so she sticks out! That's all you need to know!"

IDK, I'm not coming to any sort of ironclad conclusion based off this one video, but it does feel like yet another desperate attempt to prove that she does work on LO and doesn't just leave it all to her assistants to do at the last minute. But like... she's kind of screwed in that argument either way, because even if she draws the majority of panels in LO, that just further proves the argument that she's stopped trying.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

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david-talks-sw · 1 year

Text

So that whole interaction between Ahsoka and Huyang, where they talk about Sabine's choice to help the enemy find Thrawn (in hopes that she can then find Ezra) is clearly meant to be subtext for what happened with Anakin.

I mean change the pronoun from "she/her" to "he/him", tweak some of the names and...

... it's just blatant.

The parallels were already clear in the previous episode, as pointed out in this post here, and it still holds true:

Sabine's struggle with attachment mirrors Anakin's.

We know Filoni's whole stance on why Anakin fell to the Dark Side: he'll usually acknowledge that Anakin was ruled by his attachments, got possessive of Padmé, but then adds:

"HOWEVER is loving that way really that bad?"

"HOWEVER he never stood a chance because Qui-Gon wasn't there to teach him properly and be the father Anakin needed."

I've already gone into why both these statements don't track with Lucas' intended narrative here and here... but I wanna touch on this notion that "Anakin wasn't trained enough to make a better choice."

He was.

You know how we know? Because we saw him overcome his attachments before.

We saw him explain the theory of the non-attachment rule, before.

In fact, wee saw him pass down a lot of the Jedi lessons, in The Clone Wars, including being disciplined, following orders and not acting impulsively.

The issue is that - while Anakin knows the theory, even has a few minor successes applying it - he never builds the self-discipline needed to master it because... deep down... he doesn't want to.

This is partially because you got Palpatine telling him he doesn't need to, molding him into an arrogant, power-craving person... but the fact remains that Anakin made the choice himself.

Which Filoni acknowledges, sure... but not quite. The difference between his thesis and George Lucas' is that the latter picks a stance and defends it.

"He started out as a very loving and compassionate person. And as he progressed, it was his inability to control his temper, his inability to let go of things, and his quest for power that were his undoing." - George Lucas, E! Behind the Scenes - ROTS, 2005

Anakin fell because he was greedy, just like any one of us can be.

Cool. Filoni, on the other hand, doesn't seem to land anywhere.

He dances around the issue (as can be seen by the debate between Ahsoka and Huyang, with no clear winner) and merely questions whether it's as simple as that.

Clearly he wants to justify Anakin's actions to some degree... but y'know, the narrative considers those actions so reprehensible that Anakin gets friggin' burned alive for it.

"I felt it was important that we actually see that happen so that we could see the consequences of these bad things that he did. […] He forces his friends to turn against him. Which is heartbreaking." - George Lucas, “The Chosen One” Featurette, 2005

Because Anakin's actions are not meant to be justified.

It's easy to see why Filoni likes Anakin. One of the earliest tasks he had when writing The Clone Wars was humanizing a character whose sole functional purpose was to carry out a narrative about how:

"Without self-discipline, greed [can] force a character off the path to freedom." - Micael Hearn, The Cinema of George Lucas, 2005

And Anakin is a very sympathetic character.

His flaws are flaws that we all carry.

Q: Is it fair to assess Anakin is kind of cursed by his own goodness/good qualities? "I wouldn't say that’s true. He’s cursed by the same flaws, and issues that he has to overcome, that all humans are cursed with. There's a lot going on there. [...] The whole point is—and the reason I started the story where I did—is that Anakin is a normal, good kid. And how does somebody who is normal and good turn bad? What are the qualities, what is it that we all have within us that will turn us bad?" - George Lucas, Star Wars Insider #52, 2000

But narratively, Anakin is selfish.

He doesn't want to save Padmé's life, he wants to save himself from the pain of losing Padmé.

And while you're supposed to sympathize with him, you're not meant to agree with him. He's Darth Vader, the space nazi. He messes up and consequentially "leaves the Force in darkness" for 20 years, instead of ushering it towards the light in the chancellor's office, when he has the chance.

So to shift the blame and say that...

HOWEVER, Anakin didn't have the proper support system or training to make a better choice.

... when the whole point of the narrative is about taking personal responsibility and being selfless instead of selfish... well, it is missing that point.

He did know better. He just didn't want to choose better, so he convinced himself he wasn't able to.

#anakin skywalker #george lucas #dave filoni #ahsoka show #ahsoka series #ahsoka #ahsoka spoilers #huyang #sabine wren

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steviewashere · 5 months

Text

I am itching to write a frat boy Steve Harrington fic. Definitely modern day, no upside down, no supernatural elements. But not one where he desperately wants to leave it or he's being shunned by the other guys or where he feels like he doesn't fit in. Just one where he does stupid shit because it's funny to him.

He's got an estranged relationship with Tommy Hagan, another one of the frat boys. But they both ignite at the opportunity to get drunk, challenge each other to stupid bets (with no real reward), and party with people. Tommy's kind of a dick, but mostly a class clown kind of guy—doesn't do a whole lot of bullying, maybe some friendly teasing that sometimes goes a little too far (because he sucks at gauging his limit).

Steve's a reformed bully. He's learning to just sort of go with the flow, which is aided a lot by being loose and free and goofy and out-of-his-mind stupid at frat parties. He wants to meet as many different people as possible, maybe not become friends with all of them, but he wants to at least broaden his horizons.

He's buddies with a sorority girl named Nancy Wheeler (who also happens to be an ex-girlfriend, but that's water under the bridge), but she's not into partying—more into having a group of girls who want to see her succeed as a journalist (her sorority consists of her high school best friend, Barbara Holland, Tommy's girlfriend, Carol Perkins, a giddy cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, and a band geek who wants to be a conductor, Robin Buckley). I think he also becomes friends with Jonathan (although a bit reluctantly) through Nancy, and Argyle through Jonathan.

Steve becomes friends with Robin Buckley. Slowly, but surely. Adores her rambling conversations, which increase when she gets even the slightest bit tipsy with him (she never exceeds a few shots, and when he's with her, he doesn't drink more than that, either). She teases him without hurting his ego, unlike Tommy. He appreciates when she tells him that he's being a meathead, when he's out of his depth, when he's doing something even the slightest bit offensive. With her, he learns about his own sexuality (when she eventually comes out to him during a rather intense frat party—they had too much to drink this time, both loose-lipped and teetering). He learns to appreciate the more nerdy aspects of her, Nancy, and the rest of their sorority. Realizes he's more catty than he thought. Plays soccer with Robin on the weekends, though he sucks in comparison to when they play basketball together.

And through Robin, he meets somebody entirely new to him. Eddie Munson, a metalhead with a raspy voice and a cigarette addiction that Steve can get into, who charms in this weird flirtatious (though unintentional) teasing, who's beyond weird and dramatic, geeky with a touch of defensive. He's got a bite to him that Steve barks right back at, though never meanly. They get along like a house on fire, not a match, a house. Sure, sometimes they drink and party. But Eddie likes quieter things, despite his loud and boisterous personality. They smoke weed and sit on the roof and point out stars, or they talk for hours and hours until they both lose their voice, or they smoke and lay in the grass—absorbing one another's warmth without realizing.

It knocks Steve down, how much he learns to adore somebody like Eddie. Stirring something in him, something he's felt in his drunkest moments with Tommy. But with Eddie, he's completely sober. He's sober with intense emotion and want for a guy he's never expected to orbit around.

And, oddly enough, it's not Robin that tells him to go for it.

It's Tommy. He says something like, "Hey, we may not be best friends anymore, but I know what love looks like, man. And, y'know, considering all your past relationships, maybe it's time that you get something that makes you happy?" His voice is serious, unusually so. And Steve sort of clings to it, like a warm blanket on a camping trip. Tommy then adds something along the lines of, "Be stupid with me, Stevie-boy. Don't be stupid about your feelings. That gets you nowhere. And...I don't know this Eddie guy, not really, but there's something to him. Like a...one of those cloud things that Carol's always talking about—an aura? I could see him drawing you in before you had the chance to get his name."

Steve probably retorts with, "Shut up." And then blushes stupid about it. Because Tommy's never been wrong about these sort of things, no matter how much of an air cadet he can be. And he's also not wrong because when Robin first described to Steve who Eddie was, without giving a name initially, Steve was hooked like one of the fish he catches. (He goes on frat boy fishing trips and has a million photos in his phone of all the trout he's caught. Holds them up to the camera in that Straight Boy Way™️ (trademarked in case you can't see that on your dash), all proud as if the fish is his degree he's going out for.)

Also, I imagine that Steve goes to school to get a bachelor's degree in something like sports science? Or like physical education? Even something like family and human services?

So, line up of fields of study/options because now I want to come back to this:

-Nancy: Journalism -Robin: Music Education or Music Composition -Eddie: English or Music Production or Art -Steve: Sports Science or Physical Education or Family and Human Services -Tommy: Economics -Barb: English or Art History -Carol: Architecture -Chrissy: Special Education and American Sign Language (S.E. is typically a minor, but ASL is almost always a major) -Jonathan: Photography and Composition -Argyle: Neuroscience (I just feel it in my bones that he's like secretly crazy talented in sciences)

I can also think of some of the scenes being texting in group chats. And like with illustrations of Steve holding up his fish? God, my brain is on fire tonight.

#stranger things #modern day au #frat boy steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #tommy hagan #nancy wheeler #other characters minor #eventual steddie #steddie #platonic stobin

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inazumatrash · 1 year

Text

Some concept art for a discarted comic idea.

But I ended up adapting the script to a fanfic! (It's a little rough and I'm new to writing, so any feedback is welcome) Omori spoilers ahead.

The events of this story happens sometime after Mari's funeral.

///

It's sunset time with blue and soft pink tints all over the urban scenery. Basil is finishing tying up the velcro of his sandals to go out. Grabbing the door knob, he turns his head back to leave one final message before leaving.

"I'll be back soon, grandma!"

There's a chilling breeze outside and the streets are eerily empty. But Basil prefer this way. His head is full of thoughts, he needs the space. Approaching his destination, he stops looking at the sidewalk and lifts his head. He finally spot a living soul a bit ahead of him.

It's Kel. He's in front of Sunny's house. Kel seems to hesitate for a while, but gathers courage and knocks on the door. He vigorously give three consecutive knocks.

"That's a bit too much." Basil observes. Good old Kel.

It doesn't take too long for the door to open, and Sunny's mom appears. She has a dull look in her eyes. She's tired.

"Oh, it's you, Kelsey…" She looks over his shoulder. "and Basil."

Kel also looks back. Basil is suddenly there, a few steps of distance.

"What can I do for you two?"

"Uh." Kel is a little surprised with Basil's presence, but figured out he came for the same reason as him. "Can I- Can we talk to Sunny?"

"Hm…" She looks away before answering. "He's a little more unresponsive than usual..."

Basil feels a pinch of pain in his stomach.

"I wasn't able to talk to him since… the funeral." Kel fidgets a little. "I want to let him know he can count on us!"

Sunny's mom mouth corner's change to a soft, yet warm smile.

"Well, I'm sure he would appreciate to hear from you two, at least."

She steps back, opening the door welcoming the boys in. Kel perks up and calls Basil with a hand gesture. They enter the house.

"He's at their- at his room."

At the living room, the boys can see the glass door that leads to the backyard, highlighted with a menacing reddish orange light of the last sunrays. Kel immediatelly changes his attention to Sunny's mom back, while Basil has a hard time moving away his focus from it. They arrive at the staircase. Kel doesn't think twice and steps halfway through it. Basil freezes.

"Basil?" Kel calls out for him.

Basil tries to hide his anxiety and replies "C-coming!"

They are at front of Sunny's room, Sunny's mother a little further, to give the boys some space. Kel knocks the door, but this time, more gently.

"Sunny? It's Kel and Basil!" No reply.

Basil gives a quick look back at the staircase and Something starts crawling around him.

"Sunny." Kel starts again, leaning his hand on the door. "Sorry for not talking to you until now. But you know that we're here for you, right?" Kel sends a signal to Basil by raising his eyebrows and tilting his head towards the door, asking him to join.

Basil desperately tries to find the words. But the truth is, he wasn't expecting Sunny's mom, much less Kel's presence. It's not that he didn't have anything to say. He couldn't say anything he wanted to.

The creeping silence started to bother Kel, so he continued instead.

"Oh, I know! If you want, we can have a sleepover!" No reply. "Uh, it doesn't need to be anything fancy! We don't need to play games or eat snacks… We don't even need to talk. Just have each other's company, y'know?"

Kel smiled as he placed his other hand and ear to the door, waiting for the answer. He believed his idea was too good to be turned down. No reply.

"Sunny?" More silence.

Sunny's mom sighs, ready to call Kel and Basil back. Kel moves away from the door. He starts playing with his hoodie strings, looking a little less bright than before.

"Don't worry about it, it's okay." He did his best to hold a smile "I totally understand if you just need time alone."

"…like Hero." He completes under his breath, almost a whisper.

Another wave of silence. Is Sunny ignoring them? Is he even listening? Basil's mind go blank as he stares at the door.

"We'll come back tomorrow!" Kel bursts. The "we" took Basil by surprise.

"R-right! We'll be back tomorrow, Sunny." Basil faintly addes to the farewell.

Kel gives one last knock on the door, and starts walking away. Basil follows him.

"Oh, kids…"

"Can we really come back tomorrow?" Basil asks.

"Oh, yes, you may come… I'll let you know if he's available or not." It wasn't very reassuring.

After one last goodbye, the two boys leave the house. A few steps later, they stop in front of Kel's house. Before Basil could say anything, Kel apologizes.

"I'm sorry you couldn't say much. I hogged all the time for myself."

"N-not really. I wasn't sure what to say, anyway…"

"Isn't it strange, though? Sunny… He doesn't like to be alone, why would he…?" Kel stops and shakes his head. "We just have to try again tomorrow!" Kel smiles seems forced, Basil notices.

"W-well… See you tomorrow, then?"

"No, wait- let me walk you home!"

"O-okay." Basil let him be.

In the middle of the walk, Kel turns to Basil.

"I still didn't talk to Aubrey either. Did you?" Basil shakes his head. "I thought about visiting her too, but- I think I'm the last person she would want to see." Basil thought the same of himself, but kept silent about it.

Kel is a open book, he has no reason to hide his emotions and usually can be very blunt with his honesty. But something feels off today. Or since then. That day. Looking better, Basil notices Kel was using a navy colored hoodie at least two sizes larger than it should be. A small letter "H" was embroidered on it. Kel would use passed down clothes from Hero, but this one was clearly borrowed before its time.

He was lonely too.

Soon, Basil's home is right around the corner.

"Hm, actually." Basil starts. "I promised grandma I was going to buy a few things at the convenience store. Do you want to tag along…?" Kel snorts in reply. Was Basil trying to cheer him up?

"Sure, let's go! But let's be quick, mom won't like if I come home too late." He skips ahead.

"Wait! The store is on the opposite direction!"

"Oh!!"

///

It's night. Between the interval of a lightpost to another, Kel can't stand the silence anymore.

"Aah, I should have brought some pocket money!" He comes closer to Basil, using his hand to shield the conversation like he was about to confide a secret. "But I already spent all my allowance."

Basil wasn't expecting chit-chat, but wasn't too surprised either. It kind of gave him a sense of normality.

"…Hero always scolds me for spending it too quickly.

Like everything that happened was just a bad dream…

"But Mari would always treat me instead!"

A shiver passes through Basil's spine.

"Are you cold?" Kel opens his arms as invinting for a hug.

"No, I'm okay!"

Kel stops and rewinds what he just said.

"Sorry."

"N-no, don't be." Basil almost regrets calling Kel over. The uncomfortable silence is back, until Kel broke it again.

"I'll be more careful with my money from now on."

"?"

"So I can be the one who treat everyone out! How is that?"

"Are you sure you'll be able to do that?"

"What? You understimate me!!"

Basil slips a weak smile. Kel smiles back, like he planned it from the beggining. They continue their walk.

///

At the convenience store, Basil goes straight to what he went for. To kill time, Kel explores around until something take his attention at the candy area. Basil approaches too see what was so interesting. Kel only notices his presence after a while.

"Eek!" Kel was startled.

"…Are you going to ask for borrowed money?" Basil teases.

"No!! I was just looking… See, there's everyone's favorite flavor today…"

Basil identifies each flavor and silently pick them up.

They leave the store and Kel lifts his lollipop over his head.

"Basil, you're the best!" The compliment take Basil aback.

"It's just candy…"

"Yeah, it's just candy." Basil didn't expect him to agree so fast.

"It's the thought that counts!"

Basil just nods.

///

They arrive at Basil's house again.

"We're here!" Kel announces the obvious.

"Y-yeah."

Basil moves ahead to the door.

"See you tomorrow!!"

Basil stops.

"S-sure."

///

Basil is welcomed by his grandma with tea and cookies. Putting the groceries aside and with a cup in hands, he stares at the lollipops over the kitchen's table. Strawberry, watermelon and grape. He thinks back when Kel pointed that everyones flavors were available. All six of them. He shrugs the thought away.

Kel is on his way back, already appreciating his orange lollipop, while waving the cola flavored one in the air. He wonders when he'll be able to deliver the little gift. He wonders when he'll be able to talk to Hero again. Or to any of his friends for that matter. He shrugs the thought away.

THE END

#omori #omori spoilers #kel #basil #fanfic

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sleepyangelkami · 5 months

Note

pls do more of carl grimes😭🙏🙏 (can be smut or fluff idrc🤭)

TROUBLE ADJUSTING c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.1K

CARL GIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - there was a heavy difference between travelling the roads filled with dead people walking and alexandria, a place that you fear is too much like the old world. you have some trouble adjusting, luckily your boyfriend carl doesn't mind you using him as a human shield.

☆ WARNINGS - anxiety, social anxiety, obvious attachment issues, aged up characters, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

the roads were unlike anything you'd ever experienced in your entire life.

the prison wasn't exactly the best option but it was safe and it was secure. it kept the dead out and the living in. when you were at the prison, you were never told to leave the grounds. perhaps that was why the road had been such a shock to you and not the others.

you thought when you and the others got off the roads and found a new place to settle down, things would mellow out.

and by things, i mean the elephant in the room between you and carl.

you and carl had been dating for quite some time now. you'd always been close, you supposed. but on the roads? he was your safe haven. you slowly began isolating yourself into just you and him.

though he never minded, of course.

if anything, it put carl a little at ease, knowing you were always so close to him. during the prison, he worried tremendously about you, where you were during the night, what you were doing. you two weren't permitted to sleep in a cell together, at that stage.

but rick's rules began to disappear when death began to slap him in the face over and over. if anything were to happen to any of you, he'd like to think you lived doing what you wanted, what made you happy.

besides, you didn't really have anyone other than the grimes' family.

michonne and you had moved into the large grimes' house in alexandria. rick and michonne were at one end of the hall, judith's room somewhere in between and then it was carl's room. you didn't like to call it your room seeing as it wasn't your house. but the grimes' let you know that it was as much your house as it was theres.

"you wanna go for a walk or something?" carl questioned causing your head to move from his shoulder.

you and carl had this sort of ritual of reading comic books together since the beginning of the breakout. you were thankful that at least that didn't change now that you were in alexandria. "do you want to?"

carl shrugged, debating. sure, he wanted to. at the same time, he worried for you. it was evident that the change hadn't been good for you. once so bubbly and outgoing, you'd sort of shrunk into yourself. now, you didn't even feel all that comfortable talking to rick. "why not? the place is huge."

that much was true.

you'd never seen a place as huge as this, even before the breakout. you only worried that you may run into someone on the way.

"what's going on up there, baby?" his finger tapped against your head, bringing you back.

with a bitten lip, you tried your best to conceal the obvious anxiety bubbling in your chest. "i don' know... i jus' don't wanna see anyone."

"we don't have to." he shrugged his shoulders. "we'll just keep reading the comic." before relaxing back into the pillows of his bed.

but you couldn't leave it at that. "but you want to. you should go without me." feeling bad that you were restricting him from doing the things he wanted.

he could only chuckle lowly. "don't be silly, angel. wouldn't go nowhere without you." he didn't realise it, but truthfully, it had been the most comforting thing you'd heard all week.

you'd had so much worry caught in your throat about going out and meeting people that you began to think you were weighing the others down, too. "but i feel bad." you mumbled, voicing your feelings to the only person you felt like you could.

carl was quick to shush you. "i was just suggesting, maybe another day. y'know, now that i think about it, i'm kind of in the mood for hot coco and a movie, what d'you say?" though he was already getting up from the bed.

you sat criss-cross legged on the bed, practically pouting at him. "you don't like hot coco." you informed him, knowing what he was getting at.

"why can't you just let me do something nice for my pretty girl, hm?" lifting out his hand to you and letting you take it.

carl would never force you to talk to anyone.

a couple more days in the new community passed and rick was beginning to get worried. of course, he knew you and carl weren't normal teenagers, you never would be after the things you'd experienced in your lives. but he wanted you to be as normal as could be, and that included at least trying to make friends.

obviously, the man hadn't picked up on the obvious anxiety that followed you like a dark cloud over your head. so, he made arrangements with the blonde woman who lived down the street who had a son about your guy's age. who had a girlfriend and another guy friend. rick thought there would be no harm in at least meeting them. and if you came back to the house, not liking them, then he wouldn't force you guys to go back.

simple.

or at least it should have been.

you were sure you were shaking like a leaf by the time you made your way to the white door from across the street. worried you'd be looked at oddly, you didn't hold carl's hand, though you stayed silent, behind him.

the woman, jessie anderson, let you in with a smile on her face.

then you met her son, ron. "so mikey and enid are upstairs waiting for us, got some cool games if you play."

"uh, sure." as much as carl wasn't the awkward type, he still felt sort of odd in someone else's house. perhaps that was because he never experienced the whole 'teenager sleepover' thing.

you followed carl up the stairs, staying eerily close to him. you heard ron talk, even crack a joke. carl laughed and made a joke back. but truthfully, their words fell on deaf ears for you. your eyes travelled around the house, glancing to the family portraits hanging and so on.

you didn't look back until ron opened his bedroom door, allowing you both in and shutting it again. "hey guys." a boy with black hair whipped around and the girl who was sat on the bed, comic in hand, didn't bother looking up.

"oh, hey." the boy didn't exactly say hi to ron, more so to carl and you.

"hi." the girl spoke, not so much as looking away from the pretty coloured pages.

"so, this is mikey." pointing to the black haired boy who nodded swiftly before turning back to the gaming console he'd been playing on. "and enid." the girl who finally glanced up, eyeing the two of you before nodding. "and guys, this is carl and... sorry, what was your name again?"

three pairs of oggling eyes on you. you felt your own eyes widen and your mouth part, a little dry. suddenly, your own name was caught in your throat.

"y/n." carl responded for you, loud and proud as if he'd wanted to boast about you. "her name's y/n." instinctively, you found yourself shuffling closer to the boy, trying to make yourself as unseen as possible.

you swore you didn't leave his side the entire time you spent there. he got comfortable on the ground, back against the bed while ron sat above you two, at the edge, mikey on the desktop chair and enid, now on her second comic.

"so, how long you two been together?" you glanced up at the sound of mikey's voice. he was a well put together boy, expensive sweater and a collared shirt beneath. you were suddenly thankful for carl's dirty boots, cowboy hat and loose flannels. "been third wheeling these two for like forever. i know a couple when i see one."

carl and ron both huffed out a laugh, you did not. "yeah, we've been together for like forever too." carl's head turned to give you a graceful smile, one that had your cheeks turning a light pink before smiling back ever so softly. "hey, where's the, uh, where's the bathroom?"

you were almost tempted to grasp his arm and tell him you were coming with.

"just out the hall, first door to the right." ron answered, without taking his eyes off the screen.

"thanks, man." carl's baby blue's turned back to your nervous face. "i'll be back in a second, okay?"

you nodded, though you could feel the colour drain from your face without even looking in a mirror. carl left as quickly as he could, deciding that the quicker he left, the quicker he would be back. "so..." ron voiced again. you suddenly wondered how much he liked the sound of his voice, seeing as he wouldn't stay quiet for longer than a full minute. "not much of a talker?" you nodded your head softly before hearing the loud crash on the video game, jumping a little. "jumpy too huh?" you breathed out a sigh, shying in on yourself.

"don't worry." enid voiced, only now choosing to speak. "you get used to the noise again."

this caused your head to spin, what was she talking about. and without even having to ask, ron answered your question. "enid was on the roads too. i heard your group was on the road for a while, how was it?"

how was it?

"scary." you answered shortly, turning backwards and feeling your hands become clammy.

if there was one thing you wanted to forget, it was the roads. every day, it seemed as though you were loosing someone else. every day, you faced death and it stared you back right in the eyes. panic would come over you, wheeze it's way through your lungs.

carl would always hold you back, close to him as he stabbed his way through walkers with the others. but even that was a comfort to none.

every day, you were living, wondering if it'd be your last.

"i'll bet. i couldn't imagine living without my xbox." he snorted before pressing the shooting button again and letting bullets fly. it was now that you wished carl was next to you again, at least then you could squeeze his hand 'til it turned purple.

you wondered if everyone here was that shallow. if everyone only worried about their xbox or their stupid assets that in the long run, meant nothing.

"so, what do you think about alexandria?" this time it was mikey who'd asked the question.

"scary." you huffed out again. "but a different kind of scary."

"intimidating." enid answered for you. "it'll be like that for a while but you get used to it, just like the noise." you could tell that she was one of the good ones. the ones who don't care about silly things like objects. you could tell she'd seen the horrors you had, too.

"thanks." you mumbled, sheepishly glancing down to your fingers.

soon enough, carl returned from the bathroom, catching onto your face full of anxiety. he excused you both, stating that his dad needed help rearranging furniture or something or other. stupidly enough, the others believed you and soon bid a goodbye.

when you left, it felt like you could finally breathe again. you let out a breath of relief, fluttering your eyes shut and opening them again. carl was careful to peer at your face. "what'd you think?"

"the girl's nice." you mumbled.

"yeah? think so?" you could only nod in response. "well that's good, maybe you guys'll become friends. and the guys?"

you shrugged. "ron talks a lot." this caused carl to grin, a laugh puffing out from his cheeks causing you to do the same. it was much easier to laugh when it was just you and carl, even after everything you two had been through. "did you like 'em?"

"i guess." he gently nudged his nose against your cheek. "nothing compared to you, though." you couldn't help but roll your eyes, pretty smile dancing on your cheeks.

you huffed out again, noticing the way your chest suddenly felt clear of knots. "that was scary." you spoke honestly.

carl nodded his head, understanding that it wasn't exactly your thing. "it'll get better, though. just takes some getting used to." you couldn't agree more. "you're just having a little trouble adjusting, that's all. but you got me, right?"

the boy's elbow nudged you causing you to giggle softly and lean against his shoulder. "yeah, i got you."

he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your hair. "c'mon, let's go pick out another comic."

now that sounded like fun.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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orphiclovers · 3 months

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I think the most notable bit of character insight on Yoo Joonghyuk that Yoo Mia SS provides is how much the apocalypse did not change him at all.

It's one of those Big Themes orv has, and simply brilliant writing. Y'know how they kept beating us over the head with the concept of 'the people who find it easiest to adapt in a ruined world are those who could not adapt to real life?'. That applies to YJH too, and even more than other characters. But it's hard to notice on a casual main story read because genre conventions and his character archetype tell us not to look deeper, that he is just a basic brooding power fantasy manhwa protagonist, even when he's really not.

So the audience writes off his quirks because it's expected of his brooding hero archetype and the other apocalypse survivors write off his quirks because everyone who has gotten this far is a little nuts and also they have bigger problems.

But when Yoo Joonghyuk acts exactly like he does during the apocalypse in a pre-scenario world where there's no convienient explanation it's really clear that he is different and he just comes off as...off.

His silence during conversations is no longer mysterious and cool but just weird and a failure to read social cues. His 'glare' is frightening and people don't like when he makes eye contact with them. His manner of speech is off-putting. His blank emotionless face is not stoic repressed hero-esque but ""rude"" etc etc. Every single mainstream society conforming person can tell there's something off about him so they avoid him. And YJH doesn't know how to communicate so he ends up totally friendless (save for a literal mafia boss and a crazy time-traveling teenage girl - and only them, because they don't fit well into society either.)

Umm where was I. So, but I don't know how much effect all of that has on World of Zero. Firstly, because between Yoo Mia side story and World of Zero there are 3-4 years of '?????' where afaik we have no idea what Yoo Joonghyuk was doing. He stopped being a gamer at some point but also got rich at the same time (doing what?) and bought the house he daydreamed about and also became a total shut-in who 'doesn't go outside often'. I have fanfic-y theories but nothing canon.

Onto the second part of the ask.

With World of Zero era joongdok I feel like there's a lot of writers out there who have made their own versions that are better than anything I could come up with so I hope you wont be disapointed. That being said I do have some thoughts.

Speaking of fanfic, here is mine under read more lol.

I think it's super that Kim Dokja gains the power of an omnipotent god and the very first thing he does is devote his time to Yoo Joonghyuk's happiness and safety. The whole reason he became OD was because of his massive guilt complex about YJH, so it makes sense that he would try to atone.

Zero starts off mistrusting him but gradually KDJ proves himself as having Zero's best interests at heart 100% of the time. DKOS is YJH's guardian angel. And then KDJ stays watching over him even after the scenarios were over, seeing him go through boring life milestones, happy as long as YJH is happy, for seemingly no reason.

So it's no wonder Yoo Jooghyuk fell in love.

He might not know Salvation's real name or appearance or anything about him but he wants to get to know him, this person who has saved him so many times while asking nothing in return. It doesn't matter that he's a constellation because he is good, Yoo Joonghyuk knows. He confesses all of this to Salvation, looking up at the sky with eyes sparkling with life and passion.

Salvation lets him down gently, for what it's worth, but rejection is still rejection and it hurts.

In the following weeks, as he goes through the motions and pretends nothing happened, he continues to feel the gaze of Salvation on his back, but the constellation stays mercifully silent. Yoo Joonghyuk does not want to know if it's pity he's looking at him with. Even heartbreak heals, of course. Months pass, then years. Lee Seolhwa was a dependable companion to him during the scenarios and stays a steadying presence in the world after. They're compatable. She is someone with who he could see himself growing old.

Salvation told him to 'be free, to fall in love with someone who could be with him, to not waste his time chasing after a dream, to live his life to the fullest'

He knows about his attribute of course, just like he knows everything about Yoo Joonghyuk.

Yoo Joonghyuk sees no point in lying. He tells Lee Seolhwa everything. How due to his attribute he will grown old and die while the rest of them stay youthful as ever, how he doesn't remember his childhood or know his parents. His hopes and dreams, how he yearns to learn his origins. About the first scenario, about the constellation who would have been his sponsor, whom he loves.

Then he asks to marry her. She says yes.

Salvation is the first person Yoo Joonghyuk tells. He's happy for him, of course, says he always knew there was a spark between them.

They live a long 50 years together.

When Yoo Joonghyuk's hair started turning more salt than pepper, he told Lee Seolhwa that he wouldn't hold her. She laughed, stroked his head and said that she might not look it but she is two years older than him, that she vowed to be by his side till death did them apart and she will not break that promise.

When his time comes and he knows he has to leave, he tries to explain himself to Lee Seolhwa at least, if not the rest of his old companions. But he needn't have bothered. Before he could start, she took his hands in hers and smiled wistfully. She told him she always knew this day would come. That his heart has always belonged to someone else. She's thankful for the time he has given her anyway and that she could not have asked for a better husband. She sheads a few tears and Yoo Joonghyuk does too, but he leaves their house with a sense of purpose and a lightness in his heart he has not felt once since the day he beat the final scenario.

And then he accepts the sponsorship contract with Salvation.

... .. Sooo, that's how I think round zero went.

#half meta half fanfic. what do we think about this format. also i screenshoted it bc i hate how tumblr now squishes the answer into a box #yoo mia side story #yoo joonghyuk #orv spoilers #my posts #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #asks

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 year

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Hii!!! I want to say how much I love your blog!!! From the aesthetic to the writing everything is just so cute and enjoyable!! I also love how you write Jamil personally hehe.

Idk if you still have your requests open buttttt I have a fluff idea for the basketball club :) the boys want to invite their (freshly obtained) partner!reader to a pretty important basketball match but ✨circumstances✨ happen (anything you can think of really) and they end up not saying anything to them about it. But on the day of the match their partner shows up anyway fully dressed in cheerleading attire, facepaint, pompoms, loudly cheering for them (embarassing them a lil but in a wholesome way y'know ❤️) maybe you can write some post match fluff?

Thank you so much for sharing your writing with us!! It's a delight to read it all!!

COMMENTS: Awww, thank you 🥰 It so happens that I identify a lot with Jamil (perhaps even too much). And maybe that's also why I had never thought of writing an MC that, let's say, out-going? Because a shy person like me would never do that cheerleading thing in public at least. 😅 But I wrote it. 😉

Btw: That cheerleading thing doesn't exist in my country so the only things I know about it are whatever I saw in american movies. But in return, I played basketball for 3 years when I was younger. So in that regard I know a few things.

I hope you and all enjoy 🏀

PS: I was waiting for Floyd's basketball card to come to the english server to write something with them. I still want to do it, in addition to this one.

CHARACTERS: Basketball Club (Ace, Floyd & Jamil)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship; Kissing

WARNING: Spoilers from Ace's and Floyd's Basketball Jersey Lines

WORD COUNT: An average of 500 words per character.

🏀❤️🏀🦈🏀🐍🏀

Ace really wanted to invite you to the game, but in the meantime, he got into some misbehavior issues and spent the whole time trying to make sure Coach Vargas wasn't going to ban him from playing.

He ended up forgetting to invite you, as it wouldn't make sense to do it without being sure he was going to play. He sends you a message at the last minute and that's why he doesn't even know if you'll make it.

I can see him dating a more outgoing person, so let's go that route. You appear in the game, yes, dressed in cheerleading attire alongside Cater and Deuce. Cater because I can see him doing that for being great for magicam. And Deuce because he really wants NRC to win.

While he is overjoyed to see you and thinks this is an excellent opportunity to show himself off to you, he is also a little embarrassed by the attention you are diverting to him.

We also go the route where they win. While the players are celebrating, they go to you and the rest of the cheerleading group. Ace runs up to you and hugs you so happily he lifts you off your feet. And in the midst of happiness he kisses your lips, while holding you.

He did it on the spur of the moment, and when he realizes what he's done, he's extremely embarrassed. Great chances of Floyd messing with him for that.

If someone from the opposing team starts looking at you while he is not with you, he will say with a smirk: “Can look, but not touch, you hear me?”

Before the players go to shower, Ace asked you to wait for him behind the gymnasium. It was already night. You were waiting outside and after a while you got distracted. When he goes outside and sees you distracted, he sneaked up on you and hugged you from behind. And kisses your cheek.

“Hey, what do you say to a celebration party tomorrow~? Trey said he's going to make cupcakes shaped like basketballs. Isn't that cool?” and then you hear him moan in pain softly and for a second.

You had felt his fingers curl a little when you heard that. And you remembered that one day he commented to you that his fingers get sprained all the time when he is playing. That it hurts to bend them. After a game like that, they must be hurting a lot then.

You take his hands. “Ouch...” you bring them to your lips, and kiss them softly. You tell him you could take care of him. “I deserve that, don't I?~” he says and goes back to kissing your cheek affectionately.

Floyd really wanted to invite you to the game, but in the meantime, on the one hand, the Coach Vargas wanted him to train even more. Being the tallest, the coach had high expectations for him (pun not intended). And on the other hand, Azul wanted to do something special at Mostro Lounge, as a lot of people from off campus would come to watch the game and it was an opportunity to have more customers.

Sometimes he had fun doing these things. And when he didn't want to do them, he preferred to be left alone. This plus the fact that he thought that: "since you are his partner now, isn't it already implied that you're going to watch the game?” made him end up not inviting you officially.

Jade is the one who reminds you on the day of the game. Since it was an important game, you wanted to do something special for Floyd. And taking advantage of this, Azul suggests that you come to the game dressed in cheerleading attire. This type of incentive can increase their chances of winning the game and consequently the chances of increasing customers at Mostro Lounge. And if you don't want to do it alone, don't worry, at least Cater, Deuce and Kalim will be doing the same alongside you.

I definitely can see Floyd with an outgoing partner. All of his colleagues were worried because he seemed unenthusiastic. And if he continues like this, he might not even want to play properly and that would make them lose the game for sure. And what's worse is that they couldn't even complain about it or risk getting their asses kicked.

When the game starts, what they feared most was happening. He didn't feel like playing. Which also made the opposing team not worry too much about Floyd. Fortunately, a couple of minutes after the game starts, he hears you cheering him on. He looks at you dressed in cheerleading attire and his mood changes radically. “Koebi-chan~!” He waves at you with his cutest smile. Before turning to the opponents with a sadistic smile. Now he wants to play.

The one the players on the other team thought was a drag on NRC has suddenly become the most powerful athlete in the game. To the point that the opponent who was chosen to block him was afraid to do so. And the one chosen to be blocked by Floyd (who happened to be the strongest player on the opposing team) did his best not to keep the ball too long.

He usually gets expelled from the game before it's over, but this was a big one and you were rooting for him. He had to stay until the end! So he behaved and tried to make as few fouls as possible.

Hardly in these conditions NRC would lose. So they win! If during their celebration, someone from the opposing team starts looking at you. Floyd first smiles at them. "Pretty, right?" and then put on that scary straight face "Well, it's not for your eyes."

When he comes to you because you are all celebrating together, he will pick you up. “You look so cute dressed like that.” He tells to you. If there are kisses, they will be yours on his cheeks.

Before the players go to shower, Floyd asked you to wait for him behind the gymnasium. It was already night. You were waiting outside and after a while you got distracted. When he goes outside and sees you distracted, he sneaked up on you. And behind you, he whispers in your ear: “Baa~”

You turn and he picks you up again so that your faces are level. Your noses are touching. “Hey~ Came to Mostro Lounge with me. I'm not in the mood to celebrate without you. And I can get Azul to give you your favourite for free. Isn't that a good deal~?”

He's not much for kissing your lips in front of others, so he only does it now.

Jamil really wanted to invite you to the game, but between babysitting, I mean, looking after Kalim and training for the game, he ended up not even getting to spend time with you.

Honestly, I don't see Jamil with a very outgoing partner. Since it could be like a Kalim 2.0 for him. But I certainly see Kalim going to you, already dressed in cheerleading attire himself and dragging you to dress like that too and go cheering Jamil and the others alongside him.

Because of Kalim, you two end up being a little late and when you arrive the game has already started. And Jamil had just scored. Kalim (and maybe you too) shout to congratulate Jamil. He looks at you two and is immediately flattered, shocked and embarrassed. Not because of you, but because he doesn't like to draw attention to himself, nor to have others draw attention to him that way.

Unfortunately his performance drops slightly. Until he overhears an opposing player commenting on you. At that moment, he manages to take the ball away from the opposing team, run to the basket and score.

This made him realize two things: first, your cheering the made the whole team’s morale shot up. And second, It’s also slightly distracting the opposing team. Genial!

Whenever he scores and you celebrate, he gets flattered and embarrassed but smiles at you discreetly.

They end up winning! While the players are celebrating, they go to you and the rest of the cheerleading group. He walks towards you, but is intercepted by Kalim, who hugs him. And it's only a few seconds later that he looks at you, looks at Jamil, smiles awkwardly and breaks the hug.

But more awkward than he is, you two are. Jamil doesn't like public displays of affection, so at first you don't even know what to do our say. You end up saying: "Congratulations on the victory" at the same time as he says "thanks for the cheering". And you two giggle.

Before the players go to shower, Jamil asked you to wait for him behind the gymnasium. It was already night. You were waiting outside and after a while you got distracted. He greets you as soon as he sees you and walks towards you.

He opens his arms, inviting you to hug him. And you do it. “Sorry I didn't thank you properly after the game.” He places his index and thumb on your chin, tilting it up and bringing his face closer to yours. “But now I can.” he whisper and kisses your lips.

“*Sigh* I really don't want to go back to Scarabia and put up with Kalim's party spirit.” He hugs you around the waist and gently places you against the wall. “So would you celebrate with me a little while before I have to go?”

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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obey me characters hands hcs (demon brothers, dateables, + side characters)

college has whooped my ass but your girl has officially graduated with two degrees!! finally!! hopefully i will be able to get out more writing soon. i think i am also going to tweak my request rules in the coming days to make writing easier on myself and my schedule, so expect that soon. anyways enjoy these random headcanons that came to mind one night out of nowhere

content warnings: none

Lucifer

lucifer is usually wearing gloves, so you rarely get to see or feel his hands. so when you do, it's a treat.

his hands are cold, but not unbearably so. they perpetually feel like he's been out in the cold just a few minutes too long. when he touches your bare skin, it makes you jump-- but keep them close for a few minutes and you'll chase the cold away completely.

his hands are soft. probably not super surprising considering he's always wearing gloves, but it's still pleasant.

he's got big ass, strong hands. they may be soft, but that doesn't mean they're weak. lucifer is the type of person that could open a jar for you with such ease that he'd almost look disappointed in your weak little human arms. if he's in a good mood, he might tease you about it.

he's pretty pale, so you can see the color of his veins under his skin. he's also got just a few prominent veins-- nothing excessive, but just enough to hit that sweet spot between too much and not enough.

his nails are always pristine. he's the avatar of pride. do you think he'd willingly walk around with chipped nail polish? if something somehow happens, they will be redone by the next day, almost like they'd never chipped in the first place. either he'll call asmo over to fix them, or fix them himself, depending on how much time he has.

Mammon

mammon has pleasantly warm hands. sometimes they get a little sweaty, but it's not much of a problem honestly. he's like a nice little heating pack on a winter day. because his hands are warm, though, yours usually feel cold to him... and he will complain. it's mammon.

his hands are also pretty soft. gotta look nice, y'know? i can see him keeping lotion (and chapstick-- not relevant here but it's worth a mention regardless) on his person pretty often. this came about bc he got tired of the lotion he borrowed from asmo smelling all perfume-y getting him odd looks.

this man is always wearing at least one ring and you cannot convince me otherwise. i can see him wearing a lot of matching gold ring sets. they just look like they belong on him, y'know?

i think he's got a few subtle veins across his hands. he knows that people like that, so i think he's pretty proud of his hands. he even takes care to avoid chipping or otherwise messing up his nails so the whole look will stay cohesive.

Leviathan

oh you know this man's hands are clammy as fuck. sorry bud. facts are facts.

he's blessed with very pretty hands. his nails just grow in a pretty shape (and asmo makes sure to keep them that way), his fingers are slender and proportional, his hands are a normal size, and his skin stays pretty moisturized, even in harsh weather. he doesn't have to try. which is good, because we all know he wouldn't.

i think levi actually hates the feeling of rings and hand jewelry. he'd fidget with it too much and eventually become so aware of it that he'd need to take it off before he goes crazy. if he gets married and wears a traditional wedding ring, it would have to fit perfectly and be very comfortable for him to eventually get used to it.

levi picks at the pads of his fingers a lot when he's anxious, but he's not super prone to scaring there, so it isn't super noticeable. he'll go through bursts of trying to break this habit where he covers his poor hands in vaseline, but nothing even quite breaks him of it.

Satan

satan has hands crafted by god specifically to play piano and look nice holding books. look at him. there's no way he'd have ugly hands. they're soft and pretty, but i think he has to put more effort than expected into maintaining them.

he's another one that i think would be anti-ring for much of the same reason as levi. i think it would just feel odd on his fingers and he'd get irritated by their presence. he's okay wearing bracelets though.

his hands, slender and pretty as they remain, are also quite strong. he's the avatar of wrath, after all. he's probably the second or third best to go to when you need a tough jar opened.

his nails and cuticles always look presentable, but i think he finds grooming them unpleasant. he lets asmo do it for him-- the younger one's chattering distracts him from the irritating feeling of pushed back cuticles and trimmed hangnails. his hands aren't naturally soft, either, but asmo has developed a routine for him so they stay nice with a bit of regular (secret) effort. satan's all about seeming effortlessly perfect, after all, and his hands are no exception.

Asmo

softest hands in the entire cast. simeon and mephistopheles are good competitors, but this is not a battle he will lose.

his nails are always perfectly manicured and soft. he's got a million different lotions scatter across his room, the HoL, RAD, etc., all to make sure he never encounters even a hint of dry skin. he's got emergency nail polish, too, just incase a nail were to chip while he's out and about.

asmo reaches a lot for daintier, tasteful jewelry. think small rings, delicate bracelets, pretty gemstones, the works. he's very particular about matching the jewelry both to his outfit AND his nails.

he doesn't have any visible veins, so his hands seem inhumanly perfect at times. he likes this. compliment his hands and he'll swoon-- not that he cares more about them than the rest of his body, but because it shows you notice the smaller details he puts effort into, and he appreciates it.

Beel

big boy's got big ass hands. even if you're grown yourself, putting your palms against his will make you feel like a kid again. he could palm a basketball like shaq.

he's got his fair share of callouses. i think he mostly leaves them alone because they serve the purpose of improving his grip, which is nice for the gym or fangol. asmo probably gets on him for it, but beel doesn't care enough to do something about it. i can also see him having quite a few prominent veins on both hands.

his hands fluctuate in temperature a LOT. it's pretty unpredictable, too. you can touch his hand and find it scorching hot, then touch it again ten minutes later to find it eerily lukewarm. nobody knows why this happens.

beel has to be very conscious of his hygiene, or his hands will get really dirty in a matter of minutes. he's constantly eating and touching things, so he needs to either be careful or have a napkin on hand. i think lucifer carries hand sanitizer for this exact reason (although he won't admit it).

Belphegor

belphegor's hands are upsettingly lukewarm. it's like touching things or inclimate weather has no effect on him. they're always lazily warm, like a glass of water sitting out in the sun.

his hands stay soft mainly because he doesn't do much with them. he is, however, prone to hangnails. he's lazily bite them off and accidentally cause more in the process-- not that he particularly cares.

he leaves nail and hand maintenance in asmo's hands. he'll let the fifth born do anything to them so long as he gets to sleep through it.

not anti-jewelry/rings per se, but doesn't care enough about it to a) put any on, or b) make sure he doesn't lose whatever he's wearing that day. if it somehow falls off, the most you're getting from him is a quick look around, unless the piece was really meaningful and/or borrowed.

Diavolo

is anyone surprised to hear that diavolo has massive, strong hands? no? didn't think so.

he's got really thick fingers, too. you feel like a toddler comparing hand sizes with him. he's just a mountain of a man.

his hands are always hot but never sweaty. it's comforting most of the times, but if you're already hot his touch is like fire. dawg. don't touch me. i'm sweating. his entire body is like this, too.

his nails are always very particularly manicured (it's an image thing) and fairly soft. he cares enough to use lotion but not enough to carry it. he's not one to be super vain in that regard.

there's a tasteful amount of veinage on this prince's hands. enough to be attractive, but not enough to make him seen overworked or to age him.

Barbatos

definitively the coldest fucking hands in the entire cast. barbatos' hands are cold enough to wake the dead with just a touch.

his hands are always covered by gloves as well, so they're not as rough as you'd expect. still, though, the butler is always keeping his hands busy, so i imagine there are still some minor calluses across his hands. nothing enough to be super noticable, but still there.

he's got long, slender fingers. very regal. his hands themselves are average sized. compared to someone like diavolo, though, they're dainty.

his hands are also very pale, but for some reason you can't spot a single vein. it's odd. you can see the tendons and bones shift when he moves so you know his hands are built like normal... but something about the veins just seems so odd. mammon tricked luke into thinking barbatos doesn't have any blood, so that's why no one can see his veins. this is wrong, but luke is too polite to ask about it. (the real explanation is that, although he's pale, he's got pretty thick skin-- demon perks-- so you don't really see much below it).

Simeon

simeon's hands are pleasantly warm at all times. you can feel the heat through his gloves. it's just a very comforting thing-- he'll hold your hand anytime you ask, so don't be afraid to ask if you're a little chilly or in need of some reassurance.

when he takes the gloves off, his hands are silky smooth. did you expect anything different? i can see him being very methodical abut hygiene in general, and in this case i think he's always using a nice lotion on his hands before he puts his gloves on for the day. when they come off, his hands are soft and sweet-smelling-- like cocoa butter and vanilla.

he doesn't paint his nails or anything, but they always look very nice. his liberal use of lotion pairs well with his other grooming habits. his cuticles are never overgrown, his nails are always short and uniform, and his nail beds are healthy and clear. it's minor, but it just adds to the overwhelming perfection that simeon exudes.

Solomon

solomon's hands are somehow both clammy AND cold. pick a struggle, peepaw.

on the plus side, his hands are soft. even in the winter, solomon never has to worry about rough knuckles or dry skin. which is good, because you cannot convince me that this man would remember to regularly apply lotion. he's a menace.

his hands are pale, like the rest of them, but also more veiny than i think most would anticipate. he's got one prominent one heading to his ring finger, and the rest are a bit smaller but still noticeable. his pale skin allows you to see the blue of his veins underneath. they're interesting to just stare at at watch move when he flexes his fingers.

i can see him wearing a ring or two on occasion. i don't think he'd care a whole lot about the aesthetics, but i think he'd put in enough effort to wear gold when his outfit has gold and switch to silver when wearing outfits with silver in them. it's a small thing, but it lets your know he's putting in at least a little thought.

Luke

luke has got such little, cute hands. his fingers are small and a little stubby, just like his nails. his nails also grow slowly, too, so he doesn't have to do much to keep them presentable.

unfortunately, they're often a little sticky. he bakes a lot, and while he's not usually dirty or messy, he's still young and somehow just attracts stickiness like any other child. it's especially bad when he uses honey in his recipes-- his hands are perpetually sticky for like two or three days after, no matter how often he washes his hands.

luke is a nervous little child, and for that i could see him being someone that picks at his cuticles. simeon gently discourages this habit, but at the end of the day he can't do much but make sure they heal properly.

BONUS:

Thirteen

she gives barbatos a run for his money in the cold hand competition. her fingers are ice. unlike barbatos, she will use this to her advantage. you'll find her frigid fingers on the back of your neck or under the hem of your shirt when you least expect it. she doesn't have any reason to do this. she just thinks it's funny.

her hands are a little dry, mainly around the knuckles. she strikes me as someone that constantly rubs her dry hands together and bitches about needing lotion, while simultaneously never remembering her own. she probably bums a dab of lotion off of someone ever day (i'm thinking asmo).

her nails are always really nice. they're just naturally shaped really well, round at the top and pretty straight. they're strong and don't break easy, which is good, because a hangnail can throw off her concentration for an entire afternoon.

Raphael

like belphegor, raphael's hands are an upsetting temperature-- no matter how warm or cold your hands are, his feel lukewarm against yours. it should literally be impossible, but then again, a lot of things you've encountered in the devildom should be impossible.

he's got some calluses. they're pretty interesting, honestly-- if he was a human, he'd have the bumpy, dry hands of a weathered veteran or lonely woodworker, all rough skin and long years embedded into his flesh. but he's an angel. the calluses on his hands are small and fairly easy to miss if you don't touch him. but run your hand along the ridges of his fingers or the fatty parts of his palms and you'll find them just fine.

raphael has really pretty nail beds. something about the way they look is just so clean and nice. he never has overgrown cuticles or anything, either. just really nice hands for a man that does not spare a single thought to the way they look.

Mephistopheles

this man has hands like butter. they're just so soft and luxurious. you think they'd be a bit more rugged seeing as he's a rich boy with a penchant for horseback riding, but no. i can see him being very anal about his hands. they're always soft with not a callous or imperfection in sight.

speaking of perfect, this motherfucker has amazing nails. they're just a tad longer than you'd expect to be traditionally "masculine", but that just enhances how slender and pretty his fingers look. no wonder he's always pointing and gesturing so dramatically-- he's gotta show off all that hard work!

pretty boy here just has really nice, strong hands. not really veiny, but very smooth and even. his palms are a bit lighter than his skintone, naturally, but across the board there's no discoloration or scarring to be seen. you can tell he's a noble just by looking at his hands.

he's usually in those gloves but, if not, i could see him being a rings kinda guy. only tasteful ones, though, and in moderation. not like mammon.

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