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seiwas · 9 months

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₊˚⊹。here, just for you | bakugo katsuki

wc: 1.0k summary: you give bakugo flowers, and he can’t figure out why. contains: implied f!reader but i don’t mention anything specific, talks about flowers and a kind of early established relationship, just fluff and bakugo getting flustered while going through the motions of a relationship! a/n: this is aged up to when bakugo is a pro! i envision him maturing a lot and mellowing out a little so hopefully this captures that!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

Bakugo doesn’t know what to expect, stepping into his office after a long day on patrol—actually, scratch that. Bakugo doesn’t expect anything, really, besides his office to look the exact same way he left it this morning: pristine and orderly.

And it is, for the most part—save for a small bouquet of flowers sitting delicately on his desk.

It isn’t uncommon for him to receive some; companies and politicians often send them to express their good graces. But those usually go through PR first, along with the many other trinkets and letters received from fans.

So, it shouldn’t really be a big deal, except, flowers have never appeared in his office, on his desk, with a note written in your handwriting, until now.

Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he remembers holidays, birthdays, and since being with you—potential anniversaries too. But there’s nothing, complete zilch that comes up when he tries to recall what today could be.

He furrows his brows, looking for your contact on his phone. Most of his hero costume is gone now, all of the chunky pieces stored away to reveal the plain black jumpsuit he wears underneath. Clunky boots replaced by rubber shoes he wears more and more these days.

He reaches for the bouquet while his phone rings, fingers sliding through the leaves softly. It’s a simple arrangement: a few gerberas and tulips standing out in pink and orange against small bunches of baby’s breath and cocculus. There’s a homeyness to it he can only attribute to you.

“Katsuki?” you pick up, warmth and affection coming through.

“Y’got me flowers?” he asks gruffly, thumbing the note you’d written.

There’s nothing on it but ‘For Katsuki’ in your cursive. No indication of what it’s for, or why you’d given it in the first place. He’s confused and maybe a little nervous; did he forget a date or something?

“Oh, yeah!” you exclaim, a string of ‘pings’ sounding your request at a video call.

Lately, calls with you end up this way. For the longest time, Bakugo’s been a text-mostly-and-call-but-no-video-only kind of guy; it’s quick and efficient, gets things done with minimal fuss. But since getting together with you, texting’s begun to feel a little bit insufficient without your voice accompanying it. Regular calls suffice, but you know how harsh his words can sound despite his face saying otherwise.

Your relationship is kind of old but still kind of new—a few months before you celebrate one year, and he still rolls his eyes (at himself) whenever you do this, lips quirked up as he clicks ‘accept’ (as if he can’t believe how you’ve single-handedly changed his phone habits just like that).

You wait for him to adjust his phone, portions of his office in blur before he props it against the All Might paperweight on his desk. You continue, “Do you like it?”

He shoves the bouquet into the frame, smothering the microphone until all you hear is muffled noise.

“Sorry, baby, I think you’re covering the mic.”

He tuts and you laugh as his face comes into view a few seconds later. His eyebrows are bunched together in the way they characteristically are and you see remnants of his black eyeliner smudged across his eyelids. Even at the tail end of his day, tired and just a little bit grumpy, Bakugo still looks pretty illuminated by the light on his phone.

It’s unfair, you think.

“S’nice.” he murmurs, fiddling with the petals, “Thank you.”

You catch his gaze and smile, “You’re welcome.”

There’s an uneasiness to Bakugo’s eyes that you can tell comes from uncertainty, and you give him the silence to sort through it before he lets you know eventually, just like he always does.

“I–”, he looks to the side, away from the camera. The crease between his eyebrows grow deeper before clearing his throat, “–M’not forgetting anythin’ today, am I?”

You tilt your head, puzzled, “I don’t think so, unless I’m forgetting it too.”

“So why’d–”, he looks back to the bouquet, sighing, “–why’dya give me flowers?”

Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he knows your favorite food, and your usual order from that café you both go to down the street. He remembers that one sunday, during a hike, when you told him in passing that it was the best day of your life. You don’t like fuzzy socks because they make you sneeze, and you’re allergic to dust but continue to tend to him even when he’s covered entirely in it.

Bakugo knows all these things and makes it a point to because a relationship–this relationship with you–is new and kind of hard, and this is one way he knows he can be good to you.

“Oh,” you blink, before answering so casually, so honestly, “I just wanted to.”

Ruby eyes stare back at you, a mixture of emotions you can’t decipher swirling in them. His fingers slip through the leaves of the bouquet once more before his gaze softens.

“Ha.” he huffs out, almost chuckling to himself in relief.

“Yeah, ‘ha’,” you tease, laughing, “they’re just for being you, Katsuki.”

The look you send him is fond, but the feeling it gives him is anything but. Every time you laugh, and smile, and speak to him as if he is every bit deserving of the love you give, there is a battle raging in his ribcage. He doesn’t know when it’s ever going to stop feeling that way–if it ever will. The sides of his neck begin to flush red, and you giggle, finding it every bit endearing.

He clears his throat again, trying hard to hide how flustered he feels, “D’you make it?”

You nod, “Been trying flower arranging lately.”

“S’pretty.” he supplies, turning the bouquet around to show you. You grow shy, Bakugo knowing full well how terrible you are at taking compliments.

“You should get going, it’s getting late.” you mumble, snuggling into your blanket, the one he’d left in your apartment months ago.

Bakugo grunts in agreement, “Tomorrow, 7am?”

You hum, “Message me when you get home,” reminding him, even though this is routine by now.

The next day, just like every other Tuesday, Bakugo will pick you up at 7am for a trip to that café you go to down the street. And maybe, on another day, you’ll get him flowers again, just for being your Katsuki.

#bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha #katsu #soft #shotorus.writes #writing this as an exercise !!

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spicycinnabun · 2 months

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“Steve, something is wrong with Christofern!” Eddie entered Steve’s room, cradling the potted plant in his arms.

He’d come home after work, ready to greet his bud-dy, but one look at him had made Eddie gasp. His leaves were shriveled up like sad little green raisins. Usually, they were puffed up like oversized Rice Krispies.

Christofern had been Robin’s, originally. It had been in a very sorry state on her windowsill before she’d left for college—a lot worse than it looked now, under Eddie’s care, thank you—and she’d told him, “I honestly can’t stand the thing. You keep it. It sheds worse than my aunt’s Great Pyrenees, and I’m tired of vacuuming. Just don’t throw it out, or Steve might murder you.”

And that had been that.

Christofern didn’t look like a typical house plant. He wasn’t a fern, which Steve kept reminding him. Steve was more practical. He didn’t give his plants names but called them by their designated labels.

Christofern was a Donkey’s Tail, or sedum morganianum, part of the succulent family. That term meant absolutely nothing to Eddie unless it was referring to a big bowl of pasta—he had no idea there was a whole plant category called delicious.

“But maybe he wants to be a fern, Steven,” he’d argued. “Ever thought of that? He doesn’t have to be a succulent just because he was assigned so at birth.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” had been Steve’s reply.

At first, Eddie had enlisted Steve’s help purely because he’d wanted his attention, and talking about plants was an easy as hell way to get Steve’s attention. Steve was a very passionate plant dad. But later, Eddie grew to love Christofern, and the trials and tribulations of learning how to care for him were almost like raising his own child.

Christofern had not just one but seven long, thickly spiked green tails. Seven tails. He reminded Eddie of a mutated dragon. He was adorable but occasionally grumpy and high-maintenance, like a certain someone Eddie knew. (Perhaps Christofern was more of a prince than a dragon—a dragon prince?)

If he didn’t get enough sunlight, his leaves shed, and he wilted. If he wasn’t rotated daily, he got yellow and sunburnt. And if he didn’t get enough water…

“I swear I watered him... uh, recently.” When had Eddie last watered him? Not the day before, but maybe Wednesday? Or had it been Tuesday? Shit. Eddie pouted. “I just gave him a drink now, anyway. It’s not too late, is it, Doctor Steve?”

He clasped his hands and watched Steve’s attentive eyes rove over his plant, waiting for the diagnosis.

“Eddie, how could you neglect Christofern like this? I should call Plant Protective Services.” Steve grabbed his hand, startling Eddie and his overactive heartbeat.

He took Eddie’s index finger and pushed it into Christofern’s soil right down to his second knuckle. It felt inappropriate. Eddie made a noise, appalled. “Steven, why are you making me violate Christofern?”

Steve ignored him. “What do you feel? The soil is soaked down there, isn’t it?”

Eddie wiggled his finger. It felt goopy. “Yes,” he admitted.

“You’ve overwatered it,” Steve chastised. “Now, the leaves might rot instead of rehydrating themselves. You’ve got to make sure you don’t drown it. Christofern only needs a moderate amount of water every two weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie said meekly. “I’m sorry, Christofern.”

Steve pulled his finger out of the soil and gave him a look bordering on amusement. “Leave him with me for a few days, and I’ll get him back to where he should be.”

“Thank you, Doctor Steve. How can I ever repay you?” Eddie imagined repaying Steve with his mouth, his tongue, his hands (after he washed the soil off)…

“You can clean the bathroom,” Steve said.

Eddie’s fantasy shattered. He whined. “Does it have to be that?”

“Yup.”

“Damn it, Steve, just make me suck your dick next time,” Eddie grumbled on his way out.

He missed the way Steve’s jaw dropped.

#fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie au #roommate au #steddie fic #plant dad steve harrington #crack fic #christofern is their love fern #eddie won’t let it die #plant daddy verse 🪴💚

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 10 months

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MC's light isn't supposed to be on this late at night.

Mammon just happened to be walking past Cocytus Hall, definitely not on purpose, after a night out.

He also just happened to glance up at MC's window and saw that the light was still on.

He definitely didn't worry that they'd fallen asleep at their desk, working and would wake up tomorrow with a sore back. It's pure selfish self-preservation over dealing with a grumpy attendant that drives him toward the door.

It's not even locked, what are these two, insane?

Two humans alone in the Devildom who don't even lock the front door, he's going to get Lucifer on them for that later.

He's visited a few times now and follows the light under the door up the stairs until he stands in front of their bedroom door, only to freeze up once he got there.

What the fuck is he doing?

What now, knock? He's already walked into their house without permission, MC's gonna think he's a weirdo, or worse, that he cares!

He debates turning tail, but before he gets the chance, the door creaked open.

MC's the picture of tired, cotton sleep shorts and a lazy tank top, hair a dishevelled mess with blue light glasses tangled among their locks.

The human doesn't look at all surprised to see him there, cradling an empty coffee cup in one hand, leaning heavily on the door as they eye him tiredly,

"What the hell are you doing up?" He blurted before MC could ask what he's doing in their house.

Tired eyes gaze up at him, lazily fishing their glasses out of their hair. "I can't sleep."

Their voice was soft, cracking and lethargic; behind them is desk covered in paperwork lit by a stub of candle, wax built up around it almost spilling out of its tray.

"So you're working?" Mammon gaped, pushing them backward into their room, scooping both the cup and glasses out of their hands. "Z'at supposed to help?"

"No, but I figured I may as well be productive."

"Screw that, you need sleep damnit."

The demon set MC down on their bed, urging them to settle down while he blew out excess candles, submerging the room in almost complete darkness.

"What's keeping you up anyway?"

MC shrugged, cheek buried in the pillow Belphie gave them last week. Mammon can still make out their blank stare, fixed on some far away point, jaw hinged tight.

"Hey...what's keepin' ya up?"

MC sighed, scooting away from the edge of the bed, lifting the covers. "C'mere, please?"

Mammon froze, gulping down nerves as his body practically moved on its own, sinking onto the mattress beside them.

As soon as he was within arms reach, MC cuddled close, tangling their legs together as the buried their nose in his chest, breathing deep before relaxing completely against him.

He hesitated, hands hovering nervously before giving in to the urge to hold them, letting them press to his chest, relishing in the way they relaxed so completely with him.

"Can you stay, please?"

Mammon replied without hesitation, burying his nose in their hair, pressing his lips to the crown of their head. "Long as ya need me, darlin'."

#obey me x mc #obey me #teeth rotting fluff #fluff #comfort #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon #obey me hcs #obey me drabble #i just need a mammon hug damnit #obey me x reader

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d10nyx · 5 months

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silver lining

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, hybrid!reader, very brief suicide mention, p in v, creampie, daddy kink, a LOT of pet names

a/n: hiii! throwing out some (kinda) fluffy smut for once lmao. mainly picturing vendetta leon, but any older leon works tbh. i'm so tired, so if you see typos, no, you don't >:[ hope you enjoy !!

word count: 1.7k words

Raccoon City was something that Leon would never forget. It's been years since the incident, and he still wakes up in a cold sweat some nights with nightmares of the things he'd seen.

It's fucked him up in more ways than one. He would have killed himself a long time ago if he was sure that Sherry would be safe. The “top secret programme” the government so lovingly initiated him into isn't the way he saw his life going - but if it kept her safe, he'd grit his teeth and bare it.

Sure, he's made his peace with it, but it doesn't make it any less difficult. He runs around like the government's personal lap dog and then comes home and drinks himself half to death. It's a routine he's gotten used to, and he doesn't plan on changing it anytime soon.

But it gets lonely. He's not a stranger to flirting with a pretty girl in the bar, but he never manages to get them to stay. He's not sure he's capable of forming a relationship anymore. Work always comes up, and no woman seems to want to stick around when he disappears for weeks or months at a time.

When he was younger, he always wanted a dog. That was another thing Raccoon City took from him. He still flinches when a dog moves too fast near him or gets too close. He's never been a cat person, either. Thinks they're grumpy bastards at the best of times.

He leaves it at that for a while. Looks like he's destined to be alone. Whatever. He's used to it by now. Or he thinks so, at least, until he starts to hear about hybrids becoming more commercially available as pets.

They've been around for a while, sure, but they were the type of exotic pet rich assholes buy to show off. He hears about the new hybrid adoption center opening in his city and spends one of his only weekends off doing a shit ton of research. He's not entirely convinced, but he figures there's no harm in taking a look. As soon as he spots you, he knows he's smitten. Bat your pretty lashes at him, and he'd do anything you asked.

You're the cutest little puppy girl he's ever seen. Fluffy ears atop your head, your tail wagging so fast behind you it's practically a blur. He doesn't even think about it when he calls a worker over, paying for you then and there. He doesn't even blink at the amount of money you cost him. He'd sell a kidney to be able to afford you if he needed it. At least the government pays well.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's been a few months since he brought you home with him. You were a pain in the ass at first, constantly bouncing around his apartment. Your tail was a hazard, always knocking things off his table and breaking things.

He wouldn't change it for the world, though. You've become the highlight of his day. He finds himself smiling as he opens the door to his apartment, hearing you thunder towards the front door as he walks in. He can't help but chuckle as you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to lick at his face.

“Alright. Easy, girl. Easy.” He says with a smile, pushing you off him and ruffling your hair as he steps past you. He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it up and settling on the couch. “I had a long day, y'know? Could at least let me through the door before you jump all over me.”

“But I missed you.” You whine as he pushes you away from him, following him closely as he moves to sit on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too, pup.” Leon says with a grin, patting his lap. He waits for you to jump in his lap, leaning back comfortably. “C'mere, then. Don't you wanna come sit with daddy?”

Your tail wags lazily behind you as you shift closer, straddling his lap happily. His hands settle on your waist to tug you closer, and he rubs small circles into you with his thumb.

“Missed you.” You repeat softly, cuddling close to him.

“You’re a sweet girl.” He nuzzles his nose into your head and caresses your hair. “A good girl…”

Leon hums quietly and his hand starts to wander along your side and up towards your chest. “And beautiful, too. Can't believe I got so lucky, baby.”

You giggle softly at that, tail wagging just a little bit faster as you press your chest into his hand, shivering as his thumb brushes your sensitive nipple over your shirt.

“D'you wanna play with me, daddy?” You ask softly, trying to press as close to him as possible. Your hips start moving on their own, rutting your aching pussy against the hard muscle of his thigh. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. He always smells so good when he gets back from work, sweat clinging to his skin.

“I just got back, baby. What's got you so worked up, huh?” He teases softly, grabbing your hips and adjusting them so you're grinding down onto his steadily hardening cock over his pants instead. He groans softly, reaching around to pet the base of your sensitive tail.

That gets a twitch and a whine from you, making the corner of his mouth tug up into a lazy smile. He rocks his hips up into you until he's fully hard and leaking.

“Alright, alright. C'mon, puppy. Let's get you to bed.” He grunts, trying to act like he isn't as desperate as you. His voice is low and gravelly, brows furrowed in concentration as he lifts you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

He plops you down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and pulling off his jacket. His hands roam your body, tugging off your clothes as he runs his palms along your curves. His eyes take you I'm greedily, his hands working to undress himself instantly.

“Fuck.” He groans as you shift on your hands and knees, ass up in the air as soon as you see his cock. His cock twitches, pre-cum leaking and staining his stomach. “Always so eager…”

All he gets is a whine and an ass wiggle in response. You lift your tail straight up, presenting your glistening pussy for his hungry eyes. “Daddy, please…”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you.” He murmurs, settling between your legs. He runs the pads of two fingers between your glistening folds, dragging them from your clit to your entrance, gathering the slick dripping from you before pushing them inside.

He thrusts them in and out a few times, letting you get used to the intrusion. Not that you need it - your pussy is always so drippy, sucking him in greedily every chance it gets. He curls his fingers, earning a low moan from you, your cute ears pressing firmly against your head.

“That's it.” He coos, repeating the action every time his fingers are half buried inside of you. “There's my good girl. You want my cock, don't you, sweet thing?”

All you can manage is to babble please repeatedly, already so desperate for him. He's not sure how he ever managed without you. You always make him feel so wanted, and not just when he's buried balls deep inside of you. It's nice. Makes an unfamiliar warmth build in his chest, something he hasn't felt since he was still a bright-eyed kid in the police academy.

“Don't worry, baby, I got what you need.” He says softly, pulling his fingers out of you and rubbing your juices onto the sheets before grabbing your hips. His breath hitches as he slides his length into your tight heat, his head tilting back in pleasure before he lets out a low moan.

He leans over you, pressing some of his weight against you as he starts to thrust slow and deep. He presses his lips to the back of your neck before leaning back, his thrusts picking up in pace.

“Such a pretty puppy.” He groans, gripping your tail to pull you back against him every time he fucks into you. The room is filled with your needy moans and the sounds of your sloppy pussy.

“Daddy…” you whine, drool spilling past your lips and onto the pillow your face is smashed against. He can feel you tightening around him, so he knows you're close. He adjusts his angle slightly so he rubs up against that sweet spot that makes you see stars every time he pushes in.

“C'mon, cum for me, pretty girl.” He grunts, hand tightening on your tail as the other slides up from your hip to your waist, giving him more leverage ti rock you back onto his cock.

“Fuck, daddy… cummin’!” You moan, your walls clenching so tight around him you almost push him out. He presses his hips against your ass and thrusts shallowly, keeping him buried deep inside of you as his tip grinds against your cervix.

His mouth hangs open as he feels you gushing all over him, his breath caught in his throat as his cock jumps and kicks against your cervix, the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him making him shoot ropes of his cum deep inside of you.

You whine softly again, slumping against the crumpled sheets. His breathing is slightly heavy as he drops his weight on you, pressing you against the bed.

You grunt at the feeling of him dropping on top of you, wriggling yourself free with a soft huff. You cuddle up to him after, ignoring the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. You give him a few locks to his stubble cheeks before cuddling up to him with a smile.

“Sleepy.” You huff softly, nuzzling into his neck with a content sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. He lazily wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to him and petting your back.

“I bet. C'mon, baby. Think we deserve a nap.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead before letting his eyes shut, too.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #resident evil #hybrid #resident evil smut

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jamesdeniscouldnever · 9 months

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Headcanons for Zev and Rolan to tide you all over until I can nail down a plot for the poll winner fic.

How they take care of Tav

🎇Rolan🎇

The grumpy wet cat of a man is a little less grumpy and wet when Tav is tired or hurting.

If they're returning home after a long road full of fights and sleepless nights, Rolan takes a gentle approach.

After making sure they have something to eat and drink in front of them, he's drawing them a hot bath.

If they return with more severe injuries, then God's help Tav.

Scolding and fussing, cursing, and name calling.

He does it out of love, we know this.

Still feeds them and draws them a bath.

Helps remove their armor, all the while tutting and making aggravated comments about "always playing hero" or "can't go a day without a fight" even though tav knows he doesn't mean it.

Once they're in the bath, he sits beside the tub

He'd like to join him, but the tub isn't that big, and when there are two people, his tail gets painfully twisted

He talks them into comfort, what Cal and Lia have been up to, how things are at the tower, and stories about the threw siblings growing up.

Uses his long, glorious nails to really help scrub Tav's hair.

Purposely dumps the water over their head to help rinse without letting them cover their eyes.

Immediately feels bad when they yelp in pain.

Coos and helps rinse it out, pretending be just wasn't thinking.

After the bath wraps them in soft sleeping clothes and puts them to bed (mother hen, who?)

When Tav asks if he's joining them he replies "now now, I've got things to do. You sleep, I'll be back later."

And he does, once Tav is sleeping.

He watches then for a moment before sighing at their bruised Visage and whispering things about "my poor angel'

Curls up behind them, holding them tight.

Tails wrapped around their leg and arms squeezing them.

Falls asleep beside them, holding them like he can protect them from the life they've chosen.

⚜️Zevlor⚜️

Has almost certainly been either on the road with his beloved Tav or staying in their camp

He knows he said he'd like to retire in the city, but once he realized he loved someone who was such a menace to their own health, those plans went right out the window.

Fighting by their side is part of his way of showing care. Watching their back, shielding them from harms way, even if they scold him for it later.

His approach to love and care is so much more obvious than Rolan's.

Constant loving stares and words of affirmation, reverence to the person who dared show him kindness and love that he though he didn't deserve.

And when the day is done and a browbeaten Tav returns to him, he's got a hand on their back or an arm around their waist in an instant, leading them to the fire to eat and relax.

Watches carefully as he makes sure they eat least one full serving of their meal. Tail wagging in pleasure when they do.

Humming old Eltural lullabies while helping them clean up by whatever stream or river is near.

Brushing their hair is his favorite.

Once in their tent, he's pulling blankets over Tav and urging them to sleep. Strokes their hair until they are.

Stays up after they're resting, watching them, watching the camp for danger, enjoying the stars.

When exhaustion finally wins, he's back in the tent, curling up in a protective little ball by their side closer to the tents entrance so if anyone tries to get in they'll trip over him and wake Tav.

If Tav is ever severely injured, Avernus take this man, he is a wreck.

That face he makes when the guy gets shot by goblins in the Grove? That immediately followed by tears and sobs.

Even if it's not life-threatening, he's on this knees at their side and begging them not to go.

The most careful and methodical medical treatment Tav has ever received followed by the most protective and clingy Zev there's ever been.

He insists on doing everything for them now. He won't let them in harms way again.

Just a sad, overprotective, DILF of a paladin who loves his Tav.

#zevlor #bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 zevlor #bg3 rolan #bg3 tav #zevlor x tav #zevlor/tav #rolan x tav #rolan/tav #bg3 headcanons #sad paladin man #angry fussy wizard

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lookismfanfics · 1 year

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I NEED THE PART 2 OF THEM SLEEPING ON THE CHEST

Thank you all for the support! I’ll do my best 🫡

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐.

Warnings: Fluff, jealousy, mild cursing, J*mes L**, DG spoilers

Zack • Johan • Gun • Goo • James L. • Kouji • Vin • Samuel

𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤

🝮 One thing you’ve learned about teenage boys since you began dating one, is that the combination of tiredness and trust is a deadly one.

🝮 You watched Zack train today. He called you to his gym, showed off, and wore himself out.

🝮 So now that you’re home, you can see his displays of fatigue more clearly.

🝮 He becomes a puppy 😩

🝮 Maybe a grumpy puppy. But his eyes are soft and warm like a protective guard dog.

🝮 You help him out of his jacket and shoes- seeing as his hands are still sore.

🝮 The cold weather has its effects- even on your moron of a boyfriend.

🝮 You push his flopping bangs out of his hair, rubbing extra lotion onto his cracking hands.

🝮 The motion of your hands rubbing against his makes his eyelids droop.

🝮 You both fall onto the couch a few minutes later.

🝮 It doesn’t take long for you to see that Zack is on the brink of falling asleep.

🝮 “Come here,” you say as you open your arms to him.

🝮 Zack’s eyes, dark and soulful, don’t betray the doubt he feels. He hesitates.

🝮 “How come?”

🝮 You shrug- ignoring the sheepishness you feel crawling at your insides.

🝮 He looks at you full of trust, like this is secretly what he wanted the whole time, and all you can do is nod understandingly. You already know.

🝮 The thing about trust is that Zack has put all of his in you, and when he’s tired, he trusts you to tend to him in his vulnerability 🤲

🝮 Soon enough Zack is leaning onto your shoulder, breathing heavily against the fabric of your hoodie.

🝮 And gradually the two of you shift, and he relaxes his cheeks into your chest.

🝮 You play with his hair— trying desperately to stay cool while he drifts off to sleep.

🝮 I’m not gonna lie to you, sometimes he drools in his sleep, so watch out

🝮 You were the one that initiated it- sort of. In the morning he wants to pay you back. 🫣

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧

🝮 You’re sitting on your armchair.

🝮 And Johan is sitting across the room.

🝮 Your hands rub gently between Eden’s perky ears, spurring on his excited tail wags and tip-tappy paws.

🝮 With Eden sitting in between your feet, Miro has no choice but to jump by your legs and wag her tail.

🝮 And as you smile, whispering sweet pet-names to the dogs, Johan frowns.

🝮 “They’re not usually this excited—” You laugh, looking up to Johan

🝮 Johan: 👺

🝮 You shift in your seat, releasing the fluffy ears of Eden and directing your attention at his owner.

🝮 “Is something wrong…?” You get the feeling like it’s something stupid, but to Johan it probably won’t be.

🝮 The corners of his mouth continue to perk downward, his brows furrowing gently.

🝮 Then he stands, walking towards you, kneeling down in front of you.

🝮 You’re on the edge of your seat, staring at him blankly. Waiting for him to explain.

🝮 And then, with his dark eyes still holding your gaze, Johan leans forward and rests his cheek against your chest.

🝮 🫠🫠🫠

🝮 “Johan…?” You suppress a chuckle, watching silently as he leans further into you, wrapping his arms around your middle.

🝮 The two of you gradually relax into the arm chair. He ends up straddling your lap a bit, head still firmly placed in your chest.

🝮 You listen quietly as he falls asleep, his breaths becoming heavier and evening out.

🝮 You stroke the bangs away from his eyes, pressing your lips against his forehead as she slumbers. Soon enough you fall asleep too.

🝮 Sweet bbb. A little jealous…?

🝮 He didn’t initiate it. You didn’t either. It was Eden 🫵

𝐆𝐮𝐧

🝮 He’s leaning forward on the edge of the couch, head sagging as he inwardly relays his day.

🝮 Your legs are wrapped around his hips, fingers pressing into his taut muscles.

🝮 “You look tired,” you mumble against the fabric of his shirt.

🝮 Jonggeon has just returned from a long day at work. His muscles are tight and sore, his hair begs to be played with after being styled for so long, his eyes are glazed and unfocused.

🝮 “You think I’m tired…? I don’t get tired.” You can hear the smirk even if you don’t see it, and you press harder into his shoulder blade.

🝮 He doesn’t flinch but he does shut up.

🝮 Your hands move to the sides of his face, cupping his porcelain cheeks that you know are secretly pudgy.

🝮 You use your fingers to stoke at the sides of his face, closing your eyes are you press against his muscular back.

🝮 “Aren’t you using that technique to help babies fall asleep?” Gun asks, turning his head towards you.

🝮 “So what if I am? Maybe that’s how I think of you…” you smile against his back, prodding his cheeks to further your teasing

🝮 He huffs indignantly, turning back to the front.

🝮 The room is cluttered- as a man’s flat should be. Except Gun’s place is usually neat- so it makes sense that the two of you are house sitting for Goo.

🝮 You feel Gun’s body getting warmer and his head sagging forward.

🝮 Gun is hot 99.9% of the time. That 1% is when he turns into a lap potato 🥔

🝮 You retract your hands away from his face, pull your legs out from his sides

🝮 “You should get some sleep,” you murmur, standing and planting a kiss on the crown of his head.

🝮 Gun grabs your wrist, “Where’re you going?” And you’re about to reply—

🝮 Wait a minute 😃 ☝️

🝮 You’re not standing anymore. You’re lying down?

🝮 Gun hovers above you, arms encasing you on either side.

🝮 You: 🐭

🝮 He can sense your embarrassment, even if you stubbornly refuse to show it. A smile appears on his face as he lowers onto your chest.

🝮 *Alarms go off in your head*

🝮 “Gun- get off-!” You try shoving this hunk away. It’s not working.

🝮 You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down. You feel Gun’s eyelashes fluttering against your chest as he stares up at you.

🝮 His arms are still holding you to him. He’s still in control. He’s still on the verge of falling asleep-

🝮 You hear his breaths even out. You release a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

🝮 Now that Gun is asleep on your chest, you’re free to admire whatever part of him you can get a glimpse of. 👀

🝮 He initiated it. He knew exactly what he was doing. If he’s gonna be vulnerable he’s taking you down with him.

How did this one get so freaking long—?

𝐆𝐨𝐨

🝮 Goofy starts reading the trophy encased in his large gloved hands, voice reaching peak emotion. And as his son Max nods to his words, the sunset cascading shades of orange and pink in the background, pride radiates from the—

🝮 “Achoo-!” a very forced sneeze.

🝮 “Goo you idiot-!” You wail, turning to him with a scowl on your face.

🝮 “Excuse me-? And anyway this movie is boring! Let’s watch something else!”

🝮 Your frown deepens and you smack his hand away from the TV Remote. If you have any say, you two are going to finish An Extremely Goofy Movie.

🝮 But beside you, your goofy- Goo- is pouting like a baby.

🝮 As the movie continues you watch him in silence through the corner of your eye. You watch him stifle a yawn. Rub his eyes with his busted hands. Mumble about his sore neck.

🝮 You frown. It’s easy to recognize that his boredom has made him tired.

🝮 At first you just ignore him and let him be… at least until the end credits start rolling on the screen.

🝮 Your heart flutters as Goo reaches out for your thigh, crawling over you and resting his head on your legs.

🝮 You laugh, staring at the obnoxious expression on his face, “What if I was tired? How am I supposed to fall asleep?”

🝮 He lets out a gasp and frowns, stroking your arm lazily with his finger.

🝮 His expression remains the same… (° v °)

🝮 “How abo-o-u-ut… we b-o-t-h lay down, huh?” He asks slowly, dragging out the syllables

🝮 “Lemme turn on another movie first-” you mutter, leaning across his lean form to grab the remote. Beneath you Goo squirms.

🝮 Your finger barely presses the button before he snatches the remote out of your hands.

🝮 “Kim-!” You hiss irritably.

🝮 He ignores you (of course) and knocks you beside him on the couch.

🝮 “Shh, I got a good movie in mind-!”

🝮 Goo is laying with his back against the couch, surprisingly muscular arms wrapped around your waist.

🝮 You both face the TV screen; your head rests on a decorative pillow; his head lays on your chest.

🝮 By now you’re used to cuddling. Even if you’re not the biggest fan, Goo certainly is.

🝮 So when Newt dies and you’re the only one crying, you have to pause The Death Cure to glare at the man resting on your boobs.

🝮 Goo is sound asleep, rhythmic breaths ruffling your shirt. He looks calm for once.

🝮 Goo: 😴

🝮 You: 👺

🝮 He initiated it— and in return for falling asleep was banned from kissing you for the day.

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐞

🝮 Today has been a long… long day.

🝮 You heard about the increased vocal training James had been undertaking…. And a little birdie also noted that he was more than good

🝮 You weren’t sure what to expect, really.

🝮 When you arrived at his newly furnished flat, you found him staring at the fish tank.

🝮 His hair looked neater. His eyes looked dull.

🝮 He looked incredibly tired, incredibly handsome, and made you feel incredibly unhappy.

🝮 “Hey Ja— Diego. What’s with the soft boy look?” You try quietly, smiling as you lug the groceries into the kitchen.

🝮 He remained stationary at the fish tank, shoving his hands into his pockets.

🝮 You: 🧍

🝮 He shrugged his shoulders, turning his angular face towards you lazily, “It’s my new face. If you got a problem with it then too bad.”

🝮 You shake your head slowly, releasing a heavy sigh.

🝮 You knew this transition would be… hard.

🝮 Especially now that your boyfriend was realizing just how much he would have to change to fit into his new persona.

🝮 And even if he agreed to it and claimed it was for the best, you couldn’t help but feel a little irritated.

🝮 What happened to that wolffish boy? The legend of the first generation? The boy who had winked at you when he had just pummeled your would-be-assaulters as though they were nothing but animals

🝮 James Lee was being restrained. Limited in this new form of himself- Diego. A K-Pop idol.

🝮 That’s not to say he didn’t look handsome, or still act like his charming self. He did. But his previous ferocity was extinguished… and it was leaving him feeling empty.

🝮 “You look nice,” you say, opening the fridge with the milk carton in hand. “It’s just different.”

🝮 “This was supposed to make me look hotter. Do I not look hot to you?”

🝮 You try to hide your smile. That’s a trick that won’t work on you. Whatever he’s doing will not seduce you.

🝮 You turn. And sure enough there he is.

🝮 Yeah. He does look hot. With his gently molded muscles flexing as he leans onto the kitchen counter, bangs curtaining his aristocratic face.

🝮 You thought James was handsome before. But this sealed the deal.

🝮 “Uh huh, whatever you say DG,” You turn away with a smirk. “Looks like someone needs a nap though~”

🝮 In the reflection of the shiny new stove you can make out his hand reaching for his eyes, rubbing tenderly beneath them on his dark circles.

🝮 “It looks that obvious?” “Only to me, babe.”

🝮 You walk over to the large, luxurious couch. You’re still getting used to being around all this fancy furniture.

🝮 The black leather sinks into your weight as you sprawl across the length of the couch, resting your back against the arm.

🝮 James trails behind you, laying next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

🝮 “Nuh uh…” you adjust, shoving him down. “None of that alpha male crap or whatever. Go to sleep.”

🝮 DG rests his head on your chest, looking up at you with watchful, dark eyes.

🝮 You play with his tufts of tamed pastel hair, smiling as he relaxes into your touch.

🝮 This is the result of years of trust stacking up. This is the result of James humbling himself and admitting he had caught feelings. You weren’t just another string attached to the whole conquering sham. You were his (Y/N).

🝮 His eyelids fluttered shut, long eyelashes resting against his soft pale cheeks. His breathing evened out, and James was officially asleep.

🝮 You smiled, leaning your head back onto the pillow. He was still just James.

🝮 You initiated it… but this wasn’t the first time.

𝐊𝐨𝐮𝐣𝐢

🝮 You never expected it to be such a mess.

🝮 Sure, you weren’t envisioning a neat, Candy-wrapper free environment that mirrored a magazine master bedroom, but still…

🝮 “Kouji… how can you live like this?”

🝮 You catch a glimpse of his cheeks flaring red.

🝮 “It’s not that messy. Don’t complain if I’m gonna be doing the actual job, otherwise I won’t do it.”

🝮 You nod to yourself, watching him flop onto his bed with his laptop.

🝮 He vaguely gestured for you to sit down, and you do so.

🝮 And then for the next hour or so, all you do is watch his purple head bounce up and down as he works his computer magic.

🝮 You: 😶

🝮 Kouji: 😪

🝮 By now the two of you have your backs to the wall. You’re actually leaning against it.

🝮 You watch wordlessly as his body slowly reclines backwards. His hands rub at his eyes more frequently.

🝮 His usual factual mutterings turn into nothing but incomprehensible gibberish

🝮 Those pudgy, mochi cheeks that drive you crazy are finally resting against your shoulder.

🝮 You try not to smirk— seeing as the arrogant genius is now out-of-his-wits and asleep on your shoulder.

🝮 And then as the two of you slide downwards, you begin to relax. After all, you and him have gotten pretty close-

🝮 Those baby-pudge cheeks make you want to melt.

🝮 Especially now that they’re on your chest—

🝮 🚨 🚨 🚨

🝮 “KOUJI WAKE UP!”

🝮 “H-Huh? What? JEEZ GET AWAY FROM ME!”

🝮 It was an accident. It was awkward. Maybe he banned you from his room? Or maybe it turned into a make-out session, who knows.

𝐕𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐧

🝮 You don’t normally spend your weekends in his living room, surrounded by piles of snacks he doesn’t want to share.

🝮 Yet here you are.

🝮 Up until now, you and Vin haven’t hung out without Mary.

♕ Mary insisted she was sick today. And couldn't make it. 🙄

🝮 It was a load of bull. But whatever.

🝮 “Well what am I supposed to eat?” you snap.

🝮 He ignores you, but you continue: “You’re taking all the good snacks bro. I can’t survive on the crumbs- I’m growing to—”

🝮 Another obnoxious crunch.

🝮 Vin pulls his hand out of the bag, extending one measly puffy Cheeto.

🝮 “Here. Now shut up so I can focus.”

🝮 “Focus on what? Growing your overinflated ego? Just give me an actual snack.”

🝮 He has an entire hoard of chip bags surrounding him- as well as some pocky sticks and instant ramen that you know he’s hiding from you.

🝮 Vin looks up in your direction, his expression one of clear irritation.

🝮 “You aren’t even trying to write your song!” He grumbles, crunching on another Cheeto and crumbling up the now-empty bag.

🝮 You rub your temples, turning towards your music draft.

🝮 “I can’t focus with all your crunching. I need my own snack.”

🝮 “Why are you so hungry?” He asks, pencil scratching roughly on his paper.

🝮 You watch his side profile wordlessly. The seven-times-tinted sunglasses and swoop of bangs are sure to block his view…

🝮 You’re desperately hungry. Won’t someone give you something to eat~♫

🝮 You reach for the nearest back of Potato Chips, sliding the bag over to yourself as quietly as you can.

🝮 To your surprise; delight; shock; amazement; Vin doesn’t notice at all.

🝮 And then you try opening the bag-

🝮 “The hell?! You mother-“

🝮 Vin is grabbing your waist and you’re kicking at his abs.

🝮 “VinJin you jerk-!”

🝮 “(Y/N) you ass!”

🝮 “Potty-mouthed idiot-“ you roll on top of him, arms straining to hold out as you clasp hands with his larger ones.

🝮 “Snarky— perverted—” He grunts, his hands encasing yours as you two wrestle onto the couch

🝮 “You really fighting me, you coward?” You grit your teeth, kicking at his shins until he gives and falls onto the sofa.

🝮 You both pant, out of breath, until Vin flips on top of you-

🝮 “You started it!” He growls.

🝮 You refuse to look at him, especially now that you’re realizing he can be somewhat attractive…

🝮 His hands are still clasped firmly onto your own, and his brows are still knitted together angrily. “What? Are you mad at me for winning? Cmon, don’t ignore me… jeez you’re as annoying as Mary… (Y/N) come on—”

🝮 He’s about to flop his head into your chest.

🝮 You’re about to shove him into your chest to make him shut up.

🝮 His head is slammed onto your chest, and neither of you can find the words to complain.

🝮 And so it works out… and now the two of you are calming down. Actually… it’s getting a little too calm.

🝮 You open your heavy eyelids, glancing down at Vin. Sure enough, he’s asleep. And you feel the biggest urge to push him off the couch— but somehow you have the feeling that you shouldn’t ruin this moment.

🝮 Hell it was weird. You both initiated it…?!

🝮 This one is also freaking long… oopsies. Y’all got spoiled 💅

𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐞𝐥

🝮 When you’re dating someone as sadistic as Samuel, who’s alliance seems to always be jumping from one person to the next, and who’s mental stability relies heavily on how he lives up to his own standards, then you’re sure to experience the wipeout days.

🝮 The sort of days where the old person is gone, and he’s replaced by an empty shell of himself.

🝮 For Samuel- today is one of those days.

🝮 You sit on the modern lounge chair that overlooks the city below, feeling comfortable despite your usual fear of heights.

🝮 (If you aren’t afraid of heights then shut up and pretend because you are now 🤡)

🝮 Your legs are crossed, your laptop rests on your thighs, and you listen attentively to the streamer you’re watching.

🝮 Samuel stands by the window with his back to you.

🝮 Every now and then you glance up at him worriedly

🝮 He’s not normally this quiet around you… or so tame. Normally it’s a war zone of snarky and perverted remarks.

🝮 “Samuel…?”

🝮 He turns to you slightly, defined jawline taut and tempting. You see his eyebrows draw together tightly and his lips purse.

🝮 “Hmm?” he hums from deep within his throat.

🝮 “You okay? You seem kinda tense.”

🝮 He turns to you, and then you can see it.

🝮 The depressed, empty shell of your normally sharp-witted boyfriend.

🝮 You can see past his sterile gaze: a glint of short-temperedness in his eyes. The frown on your face continues to deepen.

🝮 “I’m fine. Thank you for being so thoughtful,” he smiles rigidly.

🝮 “What’s with you?” You ask as you set aside your computer, giving him the attention he deserves.

🝮 He shrugs his shoulders as he approaches your open arms, kneeling in front of you.

🝮 You slide out of the chair and sit on the floor with him. “Come on Sammy…”

🝮 And then you’re both laying on the floor, and his powerful form is suddenly vulnerable now that he’s wrapped in your arms.

🝮 You stroke his hair, combing beneath the buzz cut and into his thick roots, calming both him and yourself down.

🝮 His cheek rests on your chest, and he smirks up at you every now and then.

🝮 When he feels in the mood again, it’s sexy time and he’ll die before you find him in this position. But for now he feels comfortable… so he’s going to stay like this.

🝮 That angular face of his is pressed into your breast, and you can’t help but feel a little hot at the thought.

🝮 “Let’s just fall asleep right here.”

🝮 That’s exactly what you did.

🝮 You initiated it— since you’ve done it before. But it doesn’t happen often- so treasure his vulnerable side while you can 😩

🝮 Also I know his character design is just for sex-appeal…. But come on guys he needs more fluff content 🥺

2K notes · View notes

lucifers-rubber-duck · 2 months

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𖤓 How much would the Hazbin Characters enjoy physical contact 𖤓

Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Husker, Angel, Niffty, Sir Pentious & Lucifer.

Warnings: Wrote this as friendly (especially Alastor's one) but can be read as romantic as well.

A/N: I've been recently thinking too much on how much a few of the characters would enjoy affection I had to write it.

10/10. This girl would absolutely love any kind of physical contact.

• She would absolutely cry if you started hugging her.

• She will say she's very proud of you for being comfortable enough to hug her.

• If you start being clingy she wouldn't mind at all.

• I belive she wouldn't mind you holding her hand, leaning into her, etc. She will start doing the same if you permit her.

• There would be a point were you two would simply start hugging each other as a way to say hi.

• Be ready because she will definitely look for you when she's feeling sad or burned out, you'll be the one she'll cry on the shoulder and hug until she feels better again.

6/10. She's not against it but that doesn't mean she will be 100% okay about it.

• She doesn't enjoy physical contact that much, especially not the long during ones.

• If you hug her will give nervous taps on your back and in less than a few seconds will be pushing you away.

• It doesn't mean she hates you, she just isn't familiar with that.

• I feel like you you pick her up in your arms she'll start to panic.

• Will let you brush her hair sometimes because she trusts you won't try anything funny like pulling it.

• If you're feeling really tired she will let you put your head on her shoulder and rest or will just straight up pick you up and bring you to your room.

4/10. This man does not like physical contact at all and will avoid it at all costs.

• He doesn't trust many people, and trusts even less people touching him. He only let's Rosie and Niffty touch him for a reason.

• If you somehow are able to earn his trust like them, he'll let you give him quick hugs at best.

• Now, you not being able to touch him doesn't mean he won't touch you, on the contrary, messing up with you is his favorite passtime.

• He will spin you around, invade your personal space, boop your nose, give pats on your head, anything that may annoy you really.

• Sometimes, he'll pull you to dance with him when he hears music from the radio, but only when he's in a very good mood.

• Doesn't like being touched but will be very touchy sometimes.

5/10. He doesn't like it, he avoids it as much as he can, but maybe he can make a exception for you.

• His job is to stay behind the bar's counter and serve drinks, anything beyond that is out of his catalogue.

• He hates when you try to touch his tail or his wings, they're way too sensitive for him to trust anyone touching.

• Doesn't like hugs, he's so grumpy about them and everytime you ask for one he will deny it.

• Now, if you're actually in a very bad mood or something happened to you that made you feel like shit, he won't hesitate to try and comfort you.

• He will put a arm around your shoulder, put his wings around you and try his best to make you a little better and open up to what happened.

• And if you got too drunk at his bar? He will put your arm around his shoulders and help you walk to your room.

• He's a man of words, not actions, but he's trying his best.

8/10. He's used to being touched, that's his job but he has almost no experience being touched in such a innocent way.

• When you first started being clingy to him he for sure thought you had second intentions and would constantly flirt with you.

• But when he saw you were being genuine he panicked for a quite long amount of time, he just wasn't used to it.

• He would try to avoid you at all costs at the start, he just couldn't help feel his heart hurt everytime you were so nice and sweet with him.

• After a while he would just start to give in and be extremely clingy with you. One of his four arms around your waist, holding your hand, hugging you by the shoulder, he would just take everything from you he could.

• He would 100% let you cuddle with him and put you face on his fluffy chest and brag about how much you seemed to enjoy it.

• He wouldn't stop being flrity with you but this time he would try to make sure you're comfortable with it and make it clear it's all friendly, he doesn't want to lose to one good thing he has.

10/10. She just doesn't mind, she likes climbing people at random moments and for sure doesn't mind physical contact.

• She doesn't know what personal space is to being with, she already was very touchy with you, she would just turn extra clingy.

• She wouldn't mind being hugged but you should be carefull, she very tiny and you could easily hurt her, but tbh she probably enjoys pain.

• Be ready to turn into her favorite climbing spot, she would climb and sit in your shoulder ar any given opportunity.

• You would basically have to babysit her to make sure she won't be running around with sharp objects trying to kill anyone, wich is kinda hard since she's faster than you.

• Still, besides everything, she would be really thankfull for you to be around her, a lot of people find her crazy and having someone being so nice to her is something she will forever appreciate.

• She's going to give you a bunch of gifts made of dead bugs she killed to show how much she cares for you, so be nice.

9/10. This poor man is so awkward when it comes to physical affection but would absolutely adore it.

• Absolutely freaks out about it, first he things is you trying to make him let his guard down to attack him, but will start blushing and sttutering the moment he realizes it's genuine.

• He doesn't mind being hugged, holding hands, being close to each other and all that stuff, just tell him first so he can mentally prepare.

• Not a lot of people are nice to him, most think he's just a loser who can't do anything right so he will look up to you a lot and try a lot to be reciprocate.

• He will make you gifts and gadgets as a way to say thanks for your kindness and will order his Egg Bois to follow and help you in everything you need.

• Something tells me that he would love to cuddle up with you, he's cold blooded and he thinks you're warm, can't blame him for that.

10/10. Bro is touch starved, the moment you're sweet to him he will melt.

• Now, this man, this man would fall to tears the moment you showed any kind of affection towards him.

• He's been isolated since his wife left him, maybe even before that, he never thought someone could care for him again.

• If you hug him, he will hug you back. If you hold his hand, he will smile at you. If you decide to just sit by his side and talk he'll be more than eager to hear you, doesn't matter the subject you're talking about.

• He's very clingy and will want to make sure you're feeling okay 24/7. He'll send you text messages, give your a few of his rubber ducks (one of them even looks like you!) and hold you close with his wings to show a new thing he created!

• It takes a while for him to hug you back normally without tearing up or being extremely awkward about it, but it will come a moment were he just does it naturally. He just appreciates you so much, he doesn't want to ruin anything.

• I personally belive he enjoys cooking so he will either ask you to cook with him or bring you food he made himself. Enjoy your meals from the best cooker ever!

258 notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 10 months

Text

FIRST IMPRESSIONS (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie faces the perils of being a coffee shop opener, and meets you. you, who's so damn optimistic it should be annoying. you, who makes the job that has given him trouble seem like a cake walk. you, who seemingly bleeds sunshine. god, he should really hate you.

warnings: TWO uses of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), PHYSICAL descriptors used for reader (she has a nose ring and a septum piercing! that's all), eddie is just a bitter and grumpy idiot.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: i apologize in advance for all the technical 'barista' talk in reference to positions. i tried to elaborate on a few of them, haha. also... yes. i gave reader two nose piercings. it's definitely not even more self-projection psh. (because i have three)

the full menu

Eddie Munson is not a morning person.

So, why, for the life of him, he ended up as an opener, he couldn’t tell you.

It had been a snowball effect. He got tired of working odd jobs here and there to produce enough cash to slip Wayne for bills, decided the quick change made off of fixing up neighbors’ cars or mowing lawns just wasn’t cutting it for his desired spending habits. He was tired of being so restricted by his misfortune; he was tired of watching Wayne pull long shifts only to continue living paycheck to paycheck. He was tired of his friends like Harrington and Buckley having money from their part time gig at the movie store to freely agree to impromptu late nights at Benny’s or seeing the latest slasher films in the theater as they premiered while he had to deliberate over counting change to see if he even had the funds to join in. He was tired of eyeing that guitar in the mall and constantly telling himself one day.

Eddie Munson had been tired. But now, as he forced himself awake most mornings before the sun even rose, he was exhausted.

Originally, he’d wanted to be a closer. He didn’t mind being the clean up crew, having to spend late nights in a coffee shop sweeping up grounds and scrubbing away the stickiness of the day. But then the hiring manager that interviewed him had hinted towards the fact that their store already had enough closers when he’d spotted Eddie’s availability, made a few off comments about how what they really needed was a couple brave souls to take over opening shift, and that tiresome cycle rang in Eddie’s ears. Before he even had the chance to think it through, in his desperation, he’d insisted that oh, actually, my availability is completely open. I don’t mind working earlier than that.

What bullshit. Eddie definitely minded working earlier than that. He more than minded it — he loathed it.

Long story short, it had been a series of unfortunate events that led Eddie to where he was now. In his van, fifteen minutes early, staring out at a parking lot bathed in the lingering night as he fought to keep his eyes open.

The clock on his dash read 4:46 in a taunting blink, flickering against his bleary eyesight and making him question every decision in his life that had led him here. Adjusting to the new job had been easy enough — his trainer was nice enough, learning how to make drinks and what routines were required in the morning had been meticulous but rewarding — except for the time. It wasn’t just his start time that tortured him vehemently; shifts seem to pass miserably slow, the seconds dragging their feet in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. The clock didn’t care if Eddie yearned for his bed and a few extra hours of sleep gifted by a nap. Traffic didn’t either, when he’d hit the highways and catch just the beginnings or the tail end of the morning rush.

You’d think he’d complain more about the commute. But the gas spent on the twenty minute drive to the town over was the least of his concerns.

“Fuckin’ John,” Eddie mutters when a large truck pulls up to the drive thru, a notable regular he’d begun to recognize after not even a month of working there. They had just recently changed their opening time (they used to open an hour earlier, his manager had informed him. Eddie had nearly burst into grateful tears that he’d never experienced that crime of humanity.)

None of his coworkers had arrived yet. Most lived closer, able to garner extra snoozes on their alarms and shorter drives of contemplation. Eddie only ever envied them on mornings like today.

“We don’t open for, like, another forty minutes, asshole,” Eddie curses out loud to himself, counting down the time until John gives up and drives away. The man would just circle the store like a vulture anyways. He always did; he always had to be the first customer, grabbing his ridiculous coffee order before scurrying off to play cards at the casino, “How do you come here every fuckin’ day and not know that?”

It took the older man a full four minutes before he finally roughly shifted his truck back into drive, being the farthest thing from gentle as he hit his gas and jerked his vehicle out of the drive thru line. Eddie couldn’t see him clearly through the stubborn darkness, but he could easily imagine that look of irritation at not receiving the caramel frappucino with a quad shot that he seemed to feel entitled to.

God, that man was a dick.

Eddie nearly misses another coworker pulling up to park beside him during the spectacle.

By this point, he’s learned what cars all his coworkers drive.

Carmen, the fellow barista who had trained him but he now rarely worked with due to her availability being a bit later in the day, drove a bright red 2012 Kia Soul that had certainly seen better days. Nicole, one of the shift leads he worked with often during his opens, drove a small and silver Nissan Versa. The year is lost on him, but he’s willing to bet it was a few years old at this point. James, another shift lead who went by Jamie and never had much to say, drove a Volkswagen that looked to be straight out of the 70s. And that was just the beginning, the ones he could think of off the top of his head while he was still waking up inside his van.

The car parked beside him wasn’t any of these. He didn’t recognize it at first glance, and found himself doing a double take as his face scrunched up.

A Jeep. A two-door Jeep Wrangler with vibrant, chipped yellow paint now sat idle beside him.

Who the fuck drove a yellow Jeep?

He can’t even bother to be annoyed or fatigued anymore with the mystery presently before him. He can’t see through the tint of the windows, can’t make out the silhouette of who it was. He was well aware that he hadn’t been acquainted with all of his coworkers quite yet – there was a plethora of baristas in the store he’d only heard spoken of in passing rather than properly meeting – but it had seemed like the people who opened always came from the same rotation of sorry suckers.

Nicole’s car pulls up. So whoever drove the Jeep was not one of the shift leads.

Five minutes to 5:00 AM, Nicole’s car door opens first and Eddie can hear the Jeep’s engine kill. He’s quick to fumble with his own keys, pulling them from the ignition in a haste and throwing a hand out to blindly grab his apron from his passenger seat.

A deep shade of green. Everyone had one or two of them laying around, and they were the root of the nickname for all new hires: green beans. He had just finally gotten the one embroidered with his name a little over a week ago, and his manager had apologized profusely as she swore it usually didn’t take that long.

Eddie really didn’t care. The moment he started wearing the apron with his name on it, customers had taken to randomly addressing him by it, and it made him fucking uncomfortable.

“Rise and shine, campers!” Nicole’s voice echoes through the parking lot the moment all three openers are out of their cars.

Eddie doesn’t answer at first (which isn’t unusual; Nicole was used to his ever-present sleep-deprivation induced silence). He’s too busy nearly tripping over himself as his eyes stay glued on that Jeep, on the door that swings wide open roughly from two parking spaces away as he waits with bated breath.

Would this new coworker he was about to meet even like him?

“God, Nicky,” a new voice groans – a girl’s voice.

Ah, fuck.

Eddie had noticed the mysterious phenomenon of the way everyone who worked here seemed to be attractive to some extent. Nice on the eyes, always smiling and always flirting in a friendly manner to garner more tips. He’d had plenty of bisexual panics in the bathroom anytime one of his coworkers extended that friendly flirtation his way. All the fellow guys (as few as there were) and all the confident girls he’d been in the trenches with – it didn’t matter, they all affected him.

Hawkins didn’t have nearly as many pretty people. Eddie sort of felt cheated for having lived a mere twenty minutes from a goldmine of such people for so long, completely unaware. But he also felt sort of relieved, knowing that if he were still a teenager barely scraping by in high school, this coffee shop would have been his downfall with awkward stumbles and feelings caught from all those faux smiles and joking winks that his now coworkers laid on heavy with their regulars.

With this in mind, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t prepared for when you stepped out of the Jeep. Slamming the door shut behind you, your arms were full with an apron that was definitely not green, along with an oversized water bottle and what he thinks is either a cardigan or jacket. A tote bag slung over your shoulder looked to be stuffed full as well. You were a walking cliche for the type of person that people would expect to work at a coffee shop. The type of person that embodied all those jokes of if an alternative person isn’t making my coffee, it’s not going to taste good.

Eddie should know; he’d been the butt of many of those style of jokes given that he also fit into that category. With his long hair, with his sparse tattoos, with his new nose ring – he knew he was as much of a cliche as you were.

Didn’t stop him from staring at you, suddenly wide awake.

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Nicole jokes as she rounds the front of your Jeep, stopping and looking between you and Eddie before she says to you, “You’d think after a month’s vacation you’d be happier to see me.”

You take two steps forward, lining up right between Eddie and Nicole, and suddenly contort your face to be such an over-exaggerated smile that it’s nearly a grimace. Eddie is so caught up in the scrunch of your nose, he nearly misses the way you grit out a sarcastic “Better?” from between your teeth.

“Oh, that’s the winner,” Nicole cackles, keys jangling as she shakes them and leads the two of you towards the front of the store. Over her shoulder, she continues to joke, “Keep on smiling like that, and I sense a twenty dollar tip in our future.”

Eddie still hasn’t said a word. What is he supposed to say? All he can do is trail slightly behind you, doing everything in his power to not let his eyes roam over your legs or backside. You were just wearing black jeans, in line with the same dress-code everyone else followed, but they were doing you favors.

“Y’know, I think I already saw John’s truck this morning,” your voice was surprisingly pleasant despite the insinuation Nicole had made that your first impression should be grumpy. Far less gritty than Eddie’s would have been had he spoken up, “Think I can sweet talk that out of him? Maybe I’ll ask about his wife. Or- Oh!” you exclaim, bursting with sudden energy that should give Eddie a headache this early, “Put me on bar! I’ll douse his drink in caramel how he likes, that’s sure to tug on his wallet- Sorry, I mean heart-strings.”

Nicole continues to laugh as she fumbles with unlocking the door, and it’s not lost on Eddie that he has never made any of the fellow baristas laugh like that. Although, to be fair, he has never been quite as enthusiastic as you. He didn’t seemingly bleed sunshine like you. Here the three of you were, outside in the dusky beginnings of a morning, and he could have sworn that the sun had already risen from the light that seemed to emit from you.

It should have made him nauseated. It kind of did, actually.

You turn suddenly, just as Nicole finally turns the lock, and face him. Your smile is subtle, eyes so wide he wouldn’t notice the bags even if you had any. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

You stick your hand out and he can see you sticky with it – with hopefulness, with friendliness, with kindness. His stomach churns.

Nope. Not a chance.

The moment Nicole opens the door, he’s barely muttering his name back to you, and is rushing past you to enter the store. His shoulder brushes against yours, and he has to tell himself repeatedly he did not just shoulder-check you. He has to tell himself that it’s okay he didn’t meet your level of enthusiasm. He has to tell himself that you’re just another barista, someone else who makes coffee for a living and that this new energy you bring is just due to that vacation that Nicole mentioned.

It’ll fade. He’ll be fine. At some point, his stomach has to stop churning.

—

It doesn’t.

Your energy doesn’t falter, to his surprise. Not only are you sunshine personified, but you’re also damn good at your job. Eddie can only imagine how sluggish he’d be if he had a month off from anything, especially a job, but it doesn’t even seem as though you have to dust any of your skills off for the day.

You offer to take over opening up the ‘drive thru’ aspect of the store, brewing all the coffees and teas without complaint as Eddie lingers in his misery of shuffling through the tasks of opening up the food portion of the store. As he’s sorting the croissants to be replenished, implementing the technique of FIFO (first in, first out), he can hear Nicole still cackling at whatever you’re saying in the back of the house as you clean the syrup pumps. When he’s labeling all the new breakfast sandwiches for the day with their best-by dates, he can hear you humming a few feet away from him over the clicking of the sticker gun in his hand. And when the clock finally reads 5:30 to signify the time of opening, you’re putting on your apron, tying it around yourself more securely than Eddie always lazily did. Even your black apron seemed to fit on you better than his did, as if you were more made for this job than he was. As if you had years of experience to carry on your shoulders, and God, were you carrying them with grace. Constantly smiling, constantly joking. He’d once thought Nicole incapable of even breaking a grin, but he’d hardly gone longer than a minute without hearing her laugh during the time of your opening together.

God, he sort of hated you.

You never even mentioned how rudely he’d shrugged off your introduction. Occasionally, he’d even caught you looking his way during the conversation, a soft expression on your face as if you were ready to include him in all the inside jokes at a moment’s notice.

He made sure to consistently stare straight ahead, never once seeming to glance your way when you wore that expression.

You were just too nice. You were putting all the other openers to shame right before his eyes, himself included, and he hated you for it.

Once the store is open, John is the first customer in drive, as always. Eddie wears the headset (the one you’d grabbed for him, sanitizing it and slotting a freshly charged battery in without him even asking. God, he hated you.) and listens in to you greeting the awful bastard, and his stomach does another flip.

“Good morning, John,” you chirp happily. He couldn’t see your face from around the corner, but he could only imagine that you were wearing a smile. Maybe you even had that damn camera on so that the customers could see you just as you could see them.

He waits. Anxious to hear John’s grumpy reply, be reassured when someone else also didn’t match your energy. The man had never been pleasant a single day that Eddie had worked thus far. Simply barking out his order, acting offended when someone didn’t recognize him.

If anyone was going to be cruel to you, Eddie would bet all five dollars in his pocket that it would be John.

But even John wasn’t fucking mean to you.

He had replied in the most cheerful tone Eddie had ever heard leave the man’s throat.

“And who am I speaking to?” he almost sounds teasing. It fans at Eddie’s irrational irritability.

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

He hates the way your customer service voice was so similar to just your normal voice. A bit squeakier, a bit more polite, but still bottled sunshine. He hates how nicely it caressed his eardrum as compared to the grate of some of the other barista’s tones while on drive thru. He hates that some deep part of him secretly hoped that Nicole stationed you there your entire shift, and that if she did, he would fight tooth and nail to keep this damn headset on. Just to hear your voice. Just to hear your light.

“Only three?” John’s gruff voice scoffs, “There’s only one person who works here who is this damn cheery before eight in the morning.”

Nicole laughs from where she’s bent over to put down a few of the sanitizer buckets by the bars, shaking her head as she also listens in over her headset.

“I’m making it easy on you, then,” you say as you suddenly come into view for Eddie. He’s trying to replenish the sandwiches and protein boxes that the store keeps on display for the customer by the register, still working through his morning tasks as he realizes you’ve completed yours.

Man, he fucking hated you.

You don’t miss a beat as you begin to tap one of the espresso machines awake, punching all the right buttons to pull John’s espresso shot before you turn to make your way towards the cold beverage station. “You still drinking the same thing, old man?”

“I’m not old.”

“Right, and I’m not already over-caffeinated,” that’s a lie. He hasn’t seen you touch a drop of coffee this entire time, “Just pull on up. It’s a billion dollars, or whatever your total normally is.”

John’s cackle is cut off by him pulling away from the speaker box, effectively disconnecting the two way mic. Even Eddie finds himself nearly grinning at your reply, but he stops himself. Because you’re annoying. Because no one should be this witty this early. Because the ability to make others laugh this often should be a cardinal sin.

He stops the grin because he hates you… right?

You do manage to get a tip out of John. Eddie sees it with his own two eyes. It’s a quick deposit of whatever spare change the stingiest man Eddie had ever had the displeasure of meeting has lying around his car, and it happens so quickly while you’re leant out the window to pass the man his receipt that he always requests that Eddie almost convinces himself it didn’t happen. But it did. He saw it with his own two eyes, as he tripped over his two left feet, effectively nearly knocking Nicole over with him.

The look she gives him makes his stomach twist this time as his heart lurches. It’s a knowing look. It’s despicable.

She doesn’t say a word until later into the shift, once more baristas are scattered across the floor and peak is in full swing. Eddie isn’t kept on food, and you aren’t kept to manage taking orders or run the window – he’s the one reassigned to the window position as you are moved to the cafe bar. He’s tasked with quick connections before handing out drinks to bored business people, as you fly through making drinks for both mobile orders and any customers that choose to physically walk into the store.

Nicole puts herself on the position of ‘DTO’ – she greets the drive thru customers over the headset and takes their orders, her tone not nearly as honey-sweet as yours had been. She’s lacking in jokes, she sticks to a script that must have taken her years to make sound even remotely natural.

Eddie’s just grateful he doesn’t have to wear a headset and listen to her directly in his ear.

Rush has died down when she turns to him and cocks a brow with her hip. He has the window shut, fiddling with his thumbs as he anxiously awaits for the partner on drive bar to finish making the iced white mocha for the customer currently sitting on their phone. He’s sure the look she shoots his way is in regards to the fact that he isn’t ‘connecting with the customer’ or putting himself through insufferable small talk.

It isn’t.

“Do you not like her?”

His head shoots up, fully meeting her curious gaze, “Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” she clarifies, “Do you… not like her?”

“I don’t know her,” he weakly defends himself.

He had been a dick to you this morning, hadn’t he? What a weak defense for being a bad person to someone who makes this entire store glow simply by being here.

“You should give her a chance,” Nicole speaks softly as she leans back on the counter that holds the order screens, “I… She can be a lot, but she’s one of our best. Think of her as the people’s princess, so to speak.”

He knows you’re one of the best here, just in the short few hours he’s caught glimpses of you. He has no idea how you’re so quick with making drinks, or how you manage to hold such genuine sounding conversations with all of the customers who stand right at the hand off plane. He just gets irritable when they stare at him with prying eyes as he tries (and fails) to keep up his pace.

“I… I can see it,” he nods, bringing a hand up to pinch his bottom lip, “I mean, John clearly loves her.”

Nicole gives a pointed look, “He does. She doesn’t take his shit – him and his wife bring her gifts for every holiday. They know her damn birthday and bring her cards. It’s insufferable.”

He cracks a shy smile at that, “They bring her birthday cards?”

“They bring her birthday cards,” she echoes back to him. Eddie finally receives the drink he was waiting on and turns, quick to hand it out with a soft mutterance of ‘have a good day’. Once he’s finished and the drive thru is officially empty, he faces her once more, “You don’t have to like her as much as everyone else. I know you’re still new and adjusting but… she’s one of the best for a reason.”

“Because she can turn out drinks like it’s no one’s business?” Eddie questions, side stepping and lifting his chin in your direction as you finish yet another drink, as if to prove his point.

“That,” Nicole shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter, “And because she actually gives a damn.” Eddie’s brows shoot up as he waits for her to continue, “She knows these customers, man. Learns about their lives, hears them out. Remembers the small things. She’s the same way with all of us, too. She once got turned down from being a shift lead because she’s too nice. Have you ever heard of someone being shot down from a job for that?” Nicole pauses, and Eddie can only shake his head, feeling the ends of his ponytail brush the back of his neck, “She has the management experience – she knows how to run this place. Sometimes, I see it. The way she steps up and takes responsibility. She chooses to be that kind even if it makes her seem like a nut job. She chooses to let people hear walk all over her, because she cares. She cares more about treating us as humans or whatever than she does an upgrade in pay.”

“Makes sense they wouldn’t make her a shift, then,” Eddie dares to say, which earns him a sharp look, “I mean, management positions aren’t for the weak of heart. You have to make tough decision-”

“Once, a man was harassing one of our baristas. This dude who was married. Came in like clockwork and picked up a mobile order under his wife’s name, wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept flirting with one of our poor girls. I’ve never really been afraid of her, but I was every time that man stepped foot in here,” Nicole grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the counters with a low whistle, as if she isn’t spilling serious store lore right now to Eddie. As if she isn’t bringing on more questions than answers, “She’s not weak of heart. She’s good of heart. And if she hadn’t been on vacation, she would have been your trainer. You don’t have to like her, like I said, but it would do you well to give her a chance.”

Trainer?

Carmen had mentioned something about another barista being the usual trainer. She had even tried to joke around with Eddie that he would have liked the other girl better, something about how she was funnier and easier to get along with.

You. You were the girl she’d been talking about. The people’s princess, as Nicole had put it.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something in reply, although he isn’t quite sure what he can say.

God, he had been a fucking dick. And Nicole was matching sure he felt all seven levels of Hell, of guilt, for it.

It ate him alive for the rest of his shift. His stomach churned with it. All that guilt gnawed on him from the inside out, using his bones for toothpicks, and he already knew what he needed to do without Nicole saying it.

—

“Did that hurt?”

The two of you got off your shifts at the same time, as most openers do. At ten o’clock precisely, Nicole was shooing the two of you off the floor, two fresh baristas taking both your places as you scurried to the back.

He’d overheard the joke made ten minutes prior, Nicole speaking to a fellow shift lead about who would be replacing you, already mourning your absence. She didn’t make such a joke about Eddie.

“Huh?” you look up quickly from where you had been carefully rolling and folding your apron into a bundle.

Eddie gestures vaguely to his nose again, repeating himself, “Did it hurt?”

It was the best he could do – pathetic small talk about the nose piercings of yours that had caught his eye.

You grin radiantly, and he tries to swallow down that instinctive voice that whisper hate, hate, hate. “Which one?”

Right. You had multiple nose piercings. A hoop that matches Eddie’s own, only on the left nostril rather than the right like his, and that septum piercing. He’d probably look dumb to ask about the nostril considering he had his done, and should already know that it definitely doesn’t feel nice.

“The septum,” he clarifies, “That combination, though, um… It looks sick.”

Oh, he sounds so fucking stupid right now. He wishes the sticky floors beneath the two of you would split and swallow him whole.

“Eh,” you shrug, finally glancing away from him to finish wrapping the strings of your apron snugly around the bundle you’d made of it, “My nostril honestly hurt worse. If you’re thinking of getting one,” you pause, and look up, offering him a look of pure mischief. Heart, stomach, mind. They all lurch with that look as you whisper, as if letting him in on a secret, “Do it.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off,” he’s quick to blurt out, eyes widening, resisting the urge to take several steps back and put distance between you two.

Fuck, he didn’t hate you. It hits him like a truck – this shift had managed to slip through his fingers so quickly. The fastest one to date. Between all of your jokes, all of the laughter you managed to pull out of others and that he had to fight down, the day had flown past as easily as a shift really could.

He regrets spending the shift moping. He regrets ignoring your introduction. He regrets not giving you a chance.

“I think you could,” your tote bag now hangs from your shoulder, and you have your keys prepared in one hand as you hold your water bottle in the other, “Everyone says that, but if you can already pull off the nostril, adding a little septum to the mix never hurt nobody.”

Is your face stuck like that? Stuck with a subtle and shy smile pulling at the lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle in the slightest?

He hopes not. If it is, he’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with you. He’ll always be too distracted, too infuriated, too overwhelmed.

“You’re a very optimistic person,” he almost lets it slip out as a scoff, but refrains, Nicole’s words echoing in his mind. It would do you well to give her a chance.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” you casually say to him.

“Did you just quote Star Wars to me?”

Eddie is aghast, staring at you with even more awe than before. And you – oh, you look so goddamn proud of yourself and the way you’ve left him shellshocked, smugly lifting your chin and smiling more intentionally. You’re smiling so widely that your eyes pinch nearly fully shut and even more of that sunshine is now flooding the backroom up to Eddie’s knees.

“I don’t know,” you start to step around Eddie, carrying an air of arrogance that would only be so endearing from someone who had been proven to be as kind as you were, “Did I?”

You never give him the chance to answer. You leave him there, standing in the middle of the back of house and not even clocked out yet as you walk away with a bounce in your step and a quick have a good day, Eddie! over your shoulder.

When he’s finally off the clock and having given a half-ass goodbye to everyone on the floor (which no one replied to as enthusiastically as they had yours, by the way), you’re still sitting in your damn yellow Jeep. You give him a slight wave through the windshield as he makes a beeline for his van, and he doesn’t even bother to return it. Pretends he doesn’t see it. Looks straight ahead. If Nicole is watching from the drive thru window that serves as a front row seat to the entire interaction, she’s going to rip him a new one next shift they work together.

God, Eddie wishes he hated you.

Instead, he’s left hoping that next time he opens, you’re there to make the time fly. Maybe he’ll be the one quoting Star Wars to you. If he can ever get the stick out of his ass, that is.

taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles

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#my writing #coffee shop blues #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #barista!eddie munson #this is what i do with my free time before and after work #and on my breaks lol #makes the grind more bearable #we needed some fluff #can i come out of jail now?

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