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[eatmyshortsz666]

Happy May.

[eatmyshortsz666]

Thanks for the tag!

Blushlollipops, warm cheeks, lip gloss, flowers, flamingo feathers, painted nails, heart glasses. your essence is blush: you are outspoken and protect your heart by never offering an apology. you seize your desires; there is a particularity to your passions, and not many are privy to your reasonings. you are protective and extend your heart in a way you will never accept in return. you are the trend-setter. you are the defiant. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of crimson, red, tawny, and coral, who share your aspirational intensity. you are also drawn to the honest souls lilac and cream, who will help you grow and realize you are not always under critique. however, you may struggle to get along with the internal personalities of sky and beige who are too self-effacing.

yall pls take this what color is your aura quiz

terracotta

canyons, woven rugs, bandanas, pottery pieces, matchsticks, cattails, broken nails. your essence is terracotta: you are a building storm, autonomous and resolute. you build your walls strong; no one can see your vulnerabilities, not when you keep them within your rich internal life. you are disciplined and devoted to your friends, but rarely show them weakness in return. you are the guardian. you are the wolfdog. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of tawny, garnet, red, and brown, who share your strong resolve. you are also drawn to the open-minded souls mauve and honey, who will help you grow and show you that it is alright to be emotionally attached. however, you may struggle to get along with the withdrawn personalities of jade and chiffon who are self-doubting.

[eatmyshortsz666]

Symphony No. 40 - Jaime Reyes X GN Reader

Title: Symphony No. 40

Jaime Reyes X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Khaji-Da, and Milagro (Mentioned)

WC: 1,649

Warnings: Teasing, flirting, slight suggestion (nothing major), Blue Beetle canon violence mentioned very briefly, cuddling, nicknames, and so much fluff

The soft melody of classical music coming from your radio filled your small bedroom. It was a song that you recognized, but you didn't know whether it was Mozart or Beethoven. Either way, you were just enjoying your quiet night in, humming along to the music as you read your fantasy book in your hands. 

It was one of your favorites, about a young woman who was chosen to become the new Elf Queen. It was full of adventure, romance, and it even made you laugh most of the time. You really liked one of the characters, Torien, she was the kingdom's head guard. She was witty and funny, and she reminded you of a friend of yours. 

Just as you were getting to the good part, with Allena, the new Elf Queen, and Filius, a human traveler, there was a knock on your window. Pausing, you looked up from your book pages, letting out a sigh but smiling nonetheless when you saw Jaime at your window. 

Getting up, you head over to the window. Unlocking it, you pushed the window up, allowing Jaime to hop in. You helped pull him in, your smile widening slightly as you watched him stumble a bit. It surprised you that even though he was a superhero, he still had a hard time getting into your room.

Letting out his own sign, he stood up straight, giving you his charming, but sheepish smile. "Hey, sorry for just coming over without letting you know first." He apologized, rubbing the nape of his neck as he looked at you with a bashful smile, "Didn't mean to interrupt your reading."

Shaking your head, you smiled and waved a hand dismissively. "No worries, Jaime, are you alright?" 

Jaime shrugged, dropping his hand to stuff both of them in his jacket pockets, "Just tired. And I wanted to see you." 

With your heart skipping a beat from his sweet comment, you smiled mischievously as you glanced from Jaime, to your bed, and back. "Too tired for cuddling?" You asked, innocently, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you.

"Well, I'm never too tired to cuddle you." Jaime answered, looking away. A blush crept onto his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck again. 

You couldn't help but admire him for a moment, absolutely smitten by him. Your heart fluttered a little as you walked up to him, cupping his cheek. Smiling softly, you leaned up and gave him a gentle peck on the lips. "You're always welcome to come here whenever you want. No matter what time it is. I'm always up for cuddles, or talking, or anything really..." You trailed off, shrugging a shoulder as Jaime took a step closer, his hands coming out of his pockets to hold onto your waist. 

"Anything?" Jaime asked, a small smirk appearing on his face as he gazed down at you intently, making your own cheeks feel warm as you swallowed thickly. 

"Well, yes,.." You admitted slowly, looking up at him through your eyelashes, as Jaime gulped. 

"Jaime, your serotonin and oxytocin levels are rising at an alarming rate." Khaji-Da's voice echoed through his mind, making Jaime let out a small huff.

"Shut up," He spoke softly, making you raise an eyebrow, only for the young superhero to shake his head, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, "Not you, mi amor. Khaji-Da." He explained, making you hum.

"What did Khaji say?" You asked, generally interested as Jaime just smiled at the nickname you gave his scarab. 

Jaime then shook his head lightly, his curls bouncing as he did so, "Nothing,"

You hummed, not really believing him as you grabbed his hand from your cheek. Stepping back, you pulled Jaime to your bed. Flopping down on your side of the bed, you were about to grab your book when Jaime plopped down beside you. 

You watched as he nudged your legs open a bit before laying down in between them. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pressed the side of his face into your stomach, inhaling deeply before releasing a soft groan. You laughed quietly at the sight, resting a hand gently on his head. 

Brushing your fingers through his hair, Jaime sighed in content as you played with his curls. You were so amazed by how soft his curls were, it was like petting clouds. You knew that he loved it when you played with his hair as well. You had found that it relaxed him greatly. 

Biting your bottom lip, you grabbed your book with your free hand. Opening it to the page you were last on, you got back to reading; your other hand running through Jaime's hair, occasionally gently scratching at his scalp which sent shivers down his spine. 

As you began to hum to the classical music, a small smile grew on Jaime's lips. Jaime never thought he'd find someone like you, someone so amazing in every sense of the word. Who was understanding and patient with him. Who was funny and who he was absolutely in love with. 

He could feel himself growing drowsy and heavy against your stomach, but he forced himself to stay awake. For you. For this moment. He wanted to be present and awake.

Your eyes glanced at Jaime, a soft smile on your face as you noticed how exhausted he seemed to be.

"You should sleep. Take a nap, honey." You suggested, brushing your thumb down the space in between his brows and down the slope of his nose. Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again after a few moments, closing his eyes as he leaned further into your touch.

Jaime knew he shouldn't go to sleep, but he was too comfortable to argue with your wishes. He was so tired, and so captivated by you, that he couldn't even think properly anymore. Jaime let himself succumb to sleep, snuggling deeper into your stomach, his fingers dipping beneath your shirt to press against your soft, warm skin; grounding him.

You continued to listen to the music, running your fingers through his hair soothingly as you continued to read your book. You didn't know how long he had been out until you heard his phone go off. Your hand went still on his head, watching as Jaime's eyebrows furrowed and he groaned. 

Blinking, Jaime pushed himself up, falling onto his side on the bed, and pulling out his phone from his pocket. A small, disappointed frown came to his face and you mirrored it. He had to go.

"Hero stuff?" You asked softly, trying not to sound too upset as Jaime let out a sigh, nodding. 

"Yeah, something happened. I need to meet with some of the team." Jaime answered, running a hand through his hair before dropping his phone onto the bed, and letting out a deep sigh, running a hand down his face. 

You hummed sadly, seeing how tired he was. Reaching over, you threaded your fingers through his dark hair once more, smiling wistfully as Jaime shut his eyes for a moment. "You better go then. Even though I really want to keep you here." You muttered, Jaime opening his eyes to meet yours as he raised himself up on an arm. 

"You could keep me here," He suggested, trailing off a bit, "If you want to."

Your cheeks flushed, grinning as you rolled your eyes playfully, "I wish I could but I don't want any angry superheroes at my door just because I made you miss some super important meetup." Your hand left his hair, your fingers trailing down to caress his jawline. "Besides, the world needs you, Blue Beetle."

Jaime nodded before dropping his head, cheeks flushed as his stomach fluttered at the sound of your voice calling him by his hero name. "You're right. I guess I'll go." He finally relented, pushing himself up. Scooting over, Jaime pressed both his hands on the mattress between your head, leaning forward, pressing his lips to yours in a goodbye.

His lips lingered against yours for a moment, pulling back as you both breathed softly against each other. Eyes half-lidded as he pressed one more final kiss to your lips, which you quickly returned. But before Jaime could have any chance to try and stay, you broke the kiss, chuckling softly as you rested a hand on his cheek, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, "Go, be safe."

Jaime chuckled, kissing your forehead, his curls tickling your forehead and the apples of your cheeks as he did so, making you smile brightly, "Always, mi amor." 

Sitting up on your arms, you watched as Jaime stumbled off your bed and looped a leg over your windowsill. Turning to look at you once more, Jaime gave you his signature wide grin, throwing you one last wink before gracefully crashing onto the metal fire-escape. 

You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle any of your laughter as you watched Jaime sit up, now in his Blue Beetle attire. "I'm alright! I'm fine! I'm good!" He exclaimed, slightly embarrassed, his arms raised to reassure you that he was indeed alright. 

Before you knew it, he flew off in a haze of blue, leaving you alone once again. Sighing, you turned your attention to your room again. Getting up, you shut and locked your window before hopping back into bed. Looking at your book, you opened it, only to pause and let out a small yawn.

Closing your book, you sat it on your bedside table, next to the framed photos of you and Jaime visiting Palmera and of you and Jaime with his sister. That picture always made you laugh. You laid on your side, facing the now shut window as you closed your eyes, and drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face; feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

[eatmyshortsz666]

Spider-Man: Into/Across The Spiderverse Playlist Reccs

Hey! Does anyone have any song recommendations for characters from ITSV and ATSV? If so, reblog or comment your song/s, and who they're for, please!

(Looking for Peter B. Parker, Spot, and Hobie specifically, but all character songs are welcome!)

I'm trying to make an epic playlist while I'm in my Spider-Man obsession, I only have songs for Peter Noir and one for Miles atm, (some Frank Sinatra songs for Noir and Less I Know The Better by Tame Impala for Miles), but if anyone has any good songs, send them my way!

Thanks!

I'll make the playlist on Spotify and link the complete playlist after I get more songs, for those who are interested. :)

[eatmyshortsz666]

October 1st 2023

[eatmyshortsz666]

Alternate Universe

I still can't get over that season 15 ending of spn. Spoiler alert but like...

Think of this...

Cas is gone, dean also ends up gone cause of, let's say, old age.

And after years or whatever they were reincarnated in the DC fandom.

Misha plays Harvey Dent in Gotham Knights.

Jensen plays Batman in Batman: The Long Halloween. (Plus, he is assumed to be playing a live action Batman, but that's rumored.)

I like to think, that even in different universes, they, dean and cas, can't get rid of each other. Lol, I just find this cute.

What y'all think?

[eatmyshortsz666]

Barbie Quiz!

@justsomerandomfanfic! When you see this when you get back from your break... I found your quiz!

[eatmyshortsz666]

Allan and Midge

I've seen some posts that say that Allan doesn't have a barbie or they write him to go to the human world to find someone.

But people... Allan is married to Midge. Since 1990. She is having his baby.

They originally, for Midge, on her box just have her and to show off that she was pregnant and you take take the baby out and stuff, but people thought it made her seem like she wasnt married and also it to them it encouraged teen pregnancy. So Mattel, changed the box to have Allen on the back so you knew, she was married.

I just find this fact amazing and I hope others do too! Also, for those who have seen the Barbie movie, did you notice Ryan on the swing at the treehouse in the end. He just swinging and swinging and swinging...

[eatmyshortsz666]

He was literally my inspiration, ever since I saw the show. 💖💖💖

Goodbye.

[eatmyshortsz666]

AI Ken!

Don't know if someone already made one... But I took the liberty. Enjoy 🙂

[eatmyshortsz666]

THANK YOU! 🥹

Tags: @justsomerandomfanfic @all-of-me-why-not-take-all-of-me @reddie-fancomic-by-slashpalooza @pedrohub

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful! Keep the game going to make someone smile💙

I don't have time to send it out cause I'm about to lose wifi for a few hours, so I'm just gonna tag a few! Please don't get mad if I forget you, I'm dumb and full of love for everyone!

@nymphoheretic @dabislittlesluttyprincess @dabislittlebeaniebaby @dabislittlemouse @daniidil @the-milk-anon @helloiamadrawer @omniuravity

[eatmyshortsz666]

1K Follower Celebration!

Thank you guys so much for getting me to 1K! This is like super crazy and I just can't believe it! :) You are all the best! <3

So! Here are my celebratory prompts! You may requests as many times as you want!

😁 Send me your favorite song and I'll make you a moodboard

😂 Send me your favorite movie and I'll make you a moodboard

😉 Send me a character/celebrity I write for and I'll make you a playlist

😎 Send me a character/celebrity I write for and I'll make you a wallpaper (may vary with celebrities)

😍 Send me a character I write for and I'll make you a drabble

🤗 Send me 3 characters (preferably from the same fandom) and I'll tell you who I'd kiss, marry, kill

😏 Send me a character that I write for and I'll make you a Fluff Alphabet

~~~

Special Announcement!

The last eight accounts, will get a custom fanfic/wallpaper (from the characters I write for)!

So congratulations to;

💖 - @strawberry07cake

🧡 - @darkcoffeestuffsstuff

💛 - @bunnyybrat

💚 - @knightgaze

💙 - @decayingjewels

💜 - @musically-ambiguous

💗 - @northmansvamp

🖤 - @almost-gabrielle

Please contact me through instant message or my Asks with your character/request for a story in the next 24 hours.

(If by the end of the 24 hours someone does not respond, the runner ups will take their place).

I will also be making special drabbles and/or wallpaper for those who have supported me! So just message me to let me know what you'd like! <3 You guys are awesome!

Tags: @micheleamidalajedi @doctoriletyougotogalaxy @eatmyshortsz666 @drharlivy @livinglifelowkeyloki @justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms @rita-lean @space-helen @sgt-morgan @tolkien-fantasy @all-of-me-why-not-take-all-of-me

[eatmyshortsz666]

Murder Mystery - Monday 6th, 2023

Evidence #1 | #2 |

Hello fellow Detectives!

I just got the autopsy report back;

From the report, it seems that she was strangled, and either was hit on the back of the head, or fell back and fractured her head then. From the placement of the body, (laying on her back) either is possible. And there were no drugs found in the blood. Another curious thing, is that her hair was cut after death. So, this would most likely mean that the killer took it as a trophy. Another thing that was not noted in the report, is that Maddison was killed at around 6 AM. (Please add anything you'd like to say about the autopsy, if you find it important).

We also interviewed the family, Mr. and Mrs. Dean, and Sidney Dean. We did not interview Jayson. He was unable to go through with it. His parents do not want him to be more traumatized than he already is.

From this, it seems that Henry has a social media page. If able, we will try and get ahold of any social media we can from any suspects in the future. And another very important note is that we were not able to find Maddison's phone on her body. We believe it is in her dorm, which we would need a warrant for, or someone took it.

During some research; we found out that Henry Campbell is currently dating Eliza Hopkins. They live together, but not on campus. They have an apartment somewhere else.

We actually were able to make a few suspect reports on the few people we have to believe are suspect in this mysterious case. When called about Maddison on Friday, each gave us a small statement which can also be read on their report. They are below; click for a clearer picture.

We've already checked through Google Maps of their location and how long it would take for them to reach the campus. (Based on this address; 1501 Kincaid St, Eugene, Oregon 97405) But, if you would like to double check that work, you may.

Henry Campbell and Eliza Hopkins share a home on 600 Cherry Dr. Apt. 2 Eugene, Oregon, 97401 - approximately an eleven minute drive to campus.

Alexander Scott lives on 118 Treehill Loop, Eugene, Oregon 97405 - approximately a twelve minute drive.

Gracie Ann Kelly was Maddison's roommate.

And both Isabella Wells and Kate Braxston were next door neighbors of Gracie Ann and Maddison.

---

We will be interviewing Alexander Scott, Henry Campbell, Eliza Hopkins, Gracie Ann Kelly, Isabella Wells, and Kate Braxston further on Thursday.

We also are trying to get the security videos from that morning of the death. It may take more time to receive those videos.

What do you all think about all this information? What should we take in account and/or do next?

---

@micheleamidalajedi @eatmyshortsz666 @doctoriletyougotogalaxy @justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms @marinette-the-clarinet @howlermonkey69

[eatmyshortsz666]

Just for fun, comment on this post a reaction gif for how you feel about my fics 🥺

Tags: @eatmyshortsz666 @claymorexpunisher @paradocalparasol @streets-in-paradise @justsomerandomfanfic @floral-oboe @boliv-jenta @teenagedramaqueenlisa @just-a-little-cellist @0bsessioncntr @billyhargrovesdonut @floral-force @pixielostboy

[eatmyshortsz666]

Simply Not There - Patrick Bateman X Female Reader

Title: Simply Not There

Patrick Bateman X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Paul (Mentioned) and Reader's friend (Mentioned)

WC: 3,088

Warnings: Suggestive themes (it's mentioned briefly), gore mentioned, murder mentioned, cursing, blood mentioned, American Psycho canon violence mentioned, The Shining storyline mentioned, slight angst, and fluff

You stood, leaned against the wall of Patrick's apartment, looking through the many movies he had above his TV. Raking your fingers against the thick cases of the VHS tapes, the tip of your finger paused on one movie, 'Body Double'. It was Patrick's favorite movie, one he spoke of a lot with you, or anyone who'd listen for that matter. It was an alright movie, you've watched it a couple of times whenever Patrick was watching it after a long day at work, or on the weekends. It was about a man who got fired and dumped by his girlfriend, and while house-sitting, he witnesses a murder from the house across from him; which then leads him to try and solve the case. You were pretty bored, Patrick being at work and all, so you wanted to do something. You could go out, maybe see a movie in theaters, but you didn't really feel like going out and being among people. Deciding not to watch the movie, you continued looking through Patrick's movies until you gave up on finding anything to watch in his collection; filled with suggestive thrillers, gory horror, and crime. 

Pushing off the wall, you walked to Patrick's bedroom, your socked feet slightly slipping on the floor as you practically dragged yourself into the room. Going over to the large bed, covered in crisp white sheets, you went to your side; where you usually stayed the night, and got down on your knees. Reaching under the bed, you pulled out a small bin. Since you lived in your own apartment, you didn't really need to keep much of anything at Patrick's apartment. Just a few spare clothes, your mug for your morning coffee, and other necessities, but not a lot. The one thing you made sure to bring after hanging out and spending time with Patrick, were your own movies. Not that you weren't alright with watching some of his movies from time to time, you enjoyed some of them, if not most; 'Scarface,' 'Blue City'... But you liked to watch your movies too. Flipping through the VHS boxes in the bin, you passed through such movies as 'The Dark Crystal,' 'Batman,' 'The Breakfast Club,' and 'The Princess Bride,' until you came across a movie that piqued your interest. 'The Shining.'

You didn't understand why Patrick didn't have this movie in his collection. It was dark, gory at times, a bit suggestive, with large dashes of psychological horror. You thought it'd be right up his alley, but it didn't really seem to be the case. After all, he didn't have it in his collection and always kept everything pristine and in order. Pushing the bin back under the bed, you stood up with the VHS case in your hand. Walking across the floor, you paused at the door. Looking back at the bed, you worried on your bottom lip, staring at Patrick's pillow. Your mind battled itself as you thought about the pros and cons of just stealing his pillow. You knew Patrick hated when you moved or really touched his things without asking him or letting him know. You understood that, you felt the same with some of your things. You knew he had some sort of OCD, aside from that he was a perfectionist; needed everything to be perfect all the time. So, stealing his pillow, from its rightful spot on his neatly made bed... Would probably irritate the hell out of him when he got home. But, the pros of this, stealing his pillow... Would be that you could cuddle with it, hold it while you sat on the couch watching your movie, and pretend he was with you as the smell of his expensive cologne engulfed you.

You were going to take that risk, whatever the risk was. Speeding over, you grabbed the pillow before heading back into the living room. Clutching the pillow under one arm, you could already smell Patrick's cologne as you took your movie out of the case and slid the VHS tape into the VHS player. Grabbing the remote, you fell onto the couch, wiggling around to get comfortable as you tucked your legs under yourself. You fast-forwarded the trailers for other movies and commercials before you began your movie; snuggling your back against the plush of the couch, pressed flush against it. Wrapping both arms around Patrick's pillow, you dug your face into it briefly, inhaling deeply. Letting out a content sigh, you closed your eyes, relaxing further into the couch, savoring the feeling before paying attention to your movie as the opening credits began. 

You didn't hear the sound of rattling keys or the door knob turning as Patrick entered his apartment. Immediately he paused, hearing the sound of his TV playing in the living room. Shutting the door, he slowly made his way into said room, quickly spotting you huddled on his couch, eyes glued to the TV in front of you. Patrick turned to the television, observing it briefly before turning his cold gaze back to you. You didn't hear him come in, he speculated, before making himself known.

"I didn't know you were coming over." He spoke up, monotonously, making you jolt from surprise. 

You turned to see Patrick, eyes wide with your hand over your heart; beating heavily against your ribcage as you let out a deep exhale. "Patty, you scared me." Patrick didn't say a thing, instead walking over to the side of the couch and peering over at you, his eyes quickly finding you clutching tightly onto his pillow. You noticed his gaze, looking down at the pillow and back up at the man. "I missed you." You gave him an explanation, your voice soft, as you watched him nervously. Not that you were scared of what he might do, but because you didn't want him to push you away. He tried once, but that didn't really work out for him. 

Wordlessly, Patrick walked over, staring down at you with his dark, almost soulless eyes, snatching the pillow out of your arms. You watched, your own self silent, as he walked off to supposedly his bedroom, before returning. You watched him as he then sat down beside you, his left arm wrapping onto the back of the couch behind you. You glanced up at him once more as he simply ignored you, his eyes finding themselves on the TV just as the elevator began to open and spill out gallons upon gallons of blood. You turned back to your movie, becoming more and more at ease as the movie continued, realizing that Patrick wasn't going to scold you and let you know that if you were anyone else, he would've killed you.

He did that sometimes. You knew he couldn't help it, the thoughts and the feelings he got after talking to someone. How he craved blood and hated when people made him feel inferior. Well, he didn't tell you that, but your extensive knowledge of psychology helped you figure that one out. He told you about the time at that bar with the bartender and that Paul guy from his work at Pierce & Pierce. He stopped talking about Paul a couple of months ago, and you had an eerie feeling that Patrick had done something. Something that, thankfully, hadn't been happening as frequently as it used to anymore. To your knowledge.

But you loved Patrick. Deeply. Under that mask he wore, yes, he was a bit shallow and maybe a bit greedy, but he could be charming when he wanted to be. You admired how calm he could be, how collected he could become. Aside from how attractive he was, and how stylish he was, you found him incredibly intelligent and determined. The more you spent time with him, the more you fell for him. The more your attraction turned into one of love. And there was nothing he could say or do could change that. Nothing others could say or do could change that either. 

Yes, many people in your life had tried to warn you about Patrick, before and even when you began dating. It started with your best friend, who said that they had a terrible feeling about the guy after you introduced them to Patrick. They said his eyes were dull, his polite inflection in his voice was dry, and his laugh was humorless, almost unnerving. They called him a sociopath. Unable to feel anything, or understand the feelings of others. From just one lunch date, you had no idea where they came up with that so fast, but you had figured that out about Patrick after the first week of dating. 

In the beginning, Patrick was pretty cold-hearted, not really caring much about you, and only himself. During dates at fancy restaurants, he'd talk about himself, and complain about the waitress or the wine. He even ordered for you a couple of times. And when the waitress asked if you and Patrick would like to hear about the specials, he replied, 'Not if you want to keep your spleen.' Though, when you thought that the date with Patrick was fruitless, minus his good looks and intelligence that had pulled you to him in the first place, he made a joke. 

He leaned back against the back of his seat, glancing around the room with a wide grin. He was talking about something, but you weren't fully paying attention, thinking about how vain and selfish he was before his next words gained your attention, "Even people who are good for nothing have the capacity to bring a smile to your face, like when you push them down the stairs." He said so simply, so easily as if he was saying something completely normal. As if that joke of his wasn't dark, grim. But that didn't stop you from cracking a smile, even letting out a small laugh. Patrick stared at you. His fake smile slipped into a confused frown as he wondered why you were laughing. Were you laughing at him? 

"That's pretty funny," You had said, now ignoring his vain and selfish nature and falling deep into his dark sense of humor. It intrigued you.

"What is so funny?" He had then asked, his voice a bit deeper as his mind raced with different scenarios in which to kill you. You had to have been laughing at him, right?

You could only shake your head slightly, swirling the wine glass in your hand, "That joke. I've always been a fan of those kinds of jokes. Dark jokes can be offensive to some, but to me, I find them rather... Refreshing." You took a sip of your red wine, your eyes staring right into his.

That's when Patrick knew that you were different. 

And different you were. A psychology major, a senior at Harvard. Your mind was as sharp as your tongue, constantly analyzing anything and everything. You weren't some air-head that he dealt with at his work, or even someone he felt he needed to kill for making him feel inferior, as said before. It was quite the opposite. For the first time in a very long time, Patrick liked someone. Slowly, very slowly, he began to enjoy your presence. You were smart, and Patrick felt as if he could actually have conversations with you. And only two months into your relationship did Patrick confess to you that he had these dark desires for spilling blood and coitus. And that didn't stop you from going on another date, and another, and another... Patrick was over the shock of how calm you were, how nonjudgmental you were. Like him, deep down, you were like him.

Life with Patrick almost became second nature to you. Every so often, you'd come over to his apartment, whether that meant to watch a movie, go out to eat, or spend the night in his bed; you enjoyed your time with him, and you could only hope he felt the same. You hoped he cared about you. Loved you as you loved him. The more you got to know Patrick, pushing through the mask he wore, the more and more you thought that maybe Patrick's interest in you wasn't love and more of an obsession. An obsession with you. The more Patrick grew interested in you, the more he wanted you. Though, you began to suspect the opposite the longer your relationship with the man continued. 

Sometimes you found Patrick staring at you when you were reading, cooking in his kitchen, or even sometimes when you woke up. But as fast as you catch him, he looks away as if he was never even looking at you in the first place; getting ready for the day with his routine or leaving the room. There was even a time when before you knew that he hated when you stole his clothes, that he gifted you a bottle of his cologne. Besides the clothes and the occasional simi-sentimental gifts, that cologne was your favorite thing Patrick had ever given you. You practically sprayed it on everything you owned.

Sometimes, even if you were both on the couch watching TV, his hand would end up in your hair. It would start off slow, his fingers just brushing the tips of your hair before gradually digging deeper into your locks, the tips of his fingers gently scratching your scalp. Though the soothing touch would leave once Patrick caught himself doing it. It was rare for it to happen, only happening when Patrick was too enthralled in whatever movie, so you cherished it whenever it did. You even called him 'Pattycakes' once. If he didn't care, he would've killed you for sure, but instead, he just told you not to call him that. So there were certain events that made you believe that Patrick really did care for you. It became clear that it was an obsession… With love sprinkled here and there.

Just like right now, sitting on his couch in front of the TV, watching 'The Shining.' Deep into the movie, you snapped out of your trance, feeling Patrick's hand land on your shoulder. You didn't even notice that he even scooted closer to you on the couch, his thigh brushing up against yours. You tried to pay attention to the movie once more, but you become hyper aware of his hand, his touch in general. You wanted so badly just to cuddle into his side. You looked up at him again, seeing him still staring at the screen, watching intently as Jack chased his wife around the hotel with an axe. He kept moving his hand, every now and then, rubbing circles on your upper shoulder. He didn't look at you. You couldn't tell if he knew what he was doing or not. 

Taking a chance, much like you did with his pillow, you leaned your head on his shoulder. You couldn't help but smile, feeling as he tensed before slowly relaxing. Nearing the end of the movie, the hand on your shoulder moved up to your neck and began massaging your skin softly, pulling you close to him. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, enjoying how comfortable the couch was, and how nice he smelled, that scent that seemed to linger on you no matter how many times you showered, as you closed your eyes. Within minutes, you were asleep. 

Patrick watched the screen as it panned to Jack frozen to death in the hedge maze, the movie slowly ending afterward. Grabbing the remote from the glass coffee table in front of him, his arm tight around your shoulders as he shut off the TV. Looking down at you, Patrick stared at your sleeping form, the light from the lamp casting shadows across your face. His gaze drifted from your peaceful features, tracing the outline of your face with his eyes. His eyes flicked to the freckles that sprinkled your cheeks, the way your lashes fluttered and danced against your zygomatic bone, and then down to your lips. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he maneuvered you in his arms, placing one arm around your back and the other under your legs. Carrying you to his room, he laid you on the bed, untucking the covers from underneath you to properly tuck you in. 

Letting out a deep exhale from his nose, he stared down at you, a tad annoyed. He hadn't planned for you to stay over. As he gazed down at you, his thoughts began, ‘She irritates me to no end and yet I have succumbed to her every move, every glance, every breath. I haven't a clue of how, I am still unsure of this feeling, what it may be. Obsession or some infatuation, but if this is what they call love, then what does it feel like? She drives me insane and yet I don't want to be anywhere else but by her side. And yet she makes me so angry because I cannot stand her presence. It's like my insides are burning, melting, and fusing, making my body melt until I'm nothing but an empty shell. I should hate her. Yet, I do not. And this craving, this hunger for the flesh has dwindled, though not completely gone. This desire for her, her touch, her presence, her, still gnaws at me like an animal. She can see through the facade I've put up for years, and yet, she doesn't seem bothered by it. I cannot understand it. Maybe she, similar to myself, is simply not there.'

Pushing past that, he sat down on the bed beside you. He watched as your chest rose and fell with each deep breath, the way your lips parted slightly, and it made Patrick feel warm inside. It upset him. How could you, how could you do this to him? He hated how vulnerable you made him feel, though he'd deny it vehemently later on. His lips pressed together, and he shook his head before leaning forward. Brushing your hair out of the way with his slender fingers, Patrick pressed his lips against your neck, his nose nudging into your ear lobe. The contact was gentle, almost too gentle for a man like Patrick Bateman as the overwhelming realization that you were irreplaceable fell upon him. In quick, swift movements, Patrick stood from the bed, leaving to begin his night-time routine as he reminded himself to return some videotapes in the morning. 

[eatmyshortsz666]

Despite Everything - Patrick Bateman X GN Reader

Title: Despite Everything

Patrick Bateman X GN Reader

Additional Characters: N/A

Requested by Anon!

WC: 1,876

Warnings: American Psycho canon violence mentioned, suggestiveness, blood mentioned, death mentioned, murder mentioned, Patrick in general, slight angst, and fluff

Patrick didn't know how he was surviving. If it was anyone else leaving dishes in his sink, he'd downright merc them. He'd find an axe and chase them around his apartment that he strategically covered with some see-through tarp and newspapers, and murder them; chop them up. But, he couldn't do that to you, no, not you. Why? He didn't know. He didn't know how or why his tolerance for you was so strong. Normal people would call it love, even you might've, but Patrick didn't think about it that way. He didn't feel like that about you. But then again, he didn't feel anything most of the time. He's said it before, the only emotions he felt were greed and disgust, aside from rage and bloodlust. 

Patrick met you at one of the Pierce & Pierce business parties. It was a networking event for the company, one where he had to get as many sponsors as possible to ensure a success rate. He didn't really care about that though, he only cared about his personal gain in the long run. But, Patrick did need to socialize, no matter how much he hated to do so, just so he can keep his reputation intact. Wandering around the glamorous room, a glass of scotch in one hand. Observing the room, his ears perked up at the sound of a loud, slightly obnoxious, at least to him, laugh. Turning his gaze towards the sound, he watched as you chuckled, a hand over your mouth, eyes closed with such glee. The small group around you, that you were having a conversation with, didn't chuckle or utter a word. They stared at you until your laughter died down and you noticed their perplexed stares.

You let your smile fall slightly, as you apologized to the group, who only left you alone moments later. You let your smile fully drop after they all left, swirling the glass of champagne in your hand as you let out a small sigh. Eyes dropping to the marble floor, you then scoffed, rolling your eyes as you chugged the rest of your drink before passing the empty glass on a wandering maid's tray. You crossed your arms, your own eyes slowly looking around the room, until they landed on someone else's. The beautiful dark chocolate eyes of Patrick's stared right into yours, making you slightly uncomfortable and flustered at the same time. 

Patrick watched as your eyes landed on his, yours widening ever-so-slightly before you quickly looked away. Patrick's mind raced as he watched your face contort into bashfulness or possible discomfort; he didn't know and he didn't care. He then watched as you broke away from the party, making your way to an open balcony. Patrick, despite himself, followed you. As you made your way outside, Patrick took notice that your hair and attire were also quite different from the other people's at the party, more extravagant; elegant. You, unlike most, had money. He could tell. It wasn't until later that he would find out that you were one of the newest sponsors. 

"Following me?" Your voice had spoken up, making Patrick's eyebrows narrow ever-so-slightly as you turned your head to the side to glance at him.

"Your laughter irritates me. I could slash your throat." He muttered out loud, surprisingly making you let out a mixture between a scoff and a laugh.

You turned around, your back leaning up against the railing of the balcony, "Thank you, quite charming, aren't you?" You spoke sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at Patrick with a small humorless smile.

And that was the beginning of his relationship with you. From a pretty rocky start and bumpy middle, neither of you knew how it would end. You didn't even know how it began to be honest. One minute you were at a boring business party, and the next you were on a date with Patrick Bateman himself. And, it was alright. Yes, Patrick was rude and said terrible things, but you really liked him nonetheless. For some reason, aside from his good looks, you really liked Patrick. You got used to his rude ramblings and threats, only finding out about Patrick's fantasies a couple of weeks after becoming an 'item.' That didn't seem to scare you off like Patrick thought it would.

You questioned yourself constantly in the beginning. Why were you with a guy like Patrick? He said mean things and made small jokes about you. He threatened you one moment and then had you in his bed the next. You didn't know what to make of this strange man and yet, something about him intrigued you. He made you want to know more. To learn everything about him. Only a year into the relationship did you see a slightly notable change in Patrick.

The changes you were noticing though, well, Patrick practically stopped bad-mouthing you altogether. He stopped the name-calling, the terrible comments, and it was nice, amazing really. But, Though he stopped with you, it didn't stop him from doing it to others. Like the waitress at his favorite restaurant, or the taxi driver that drove you both there in the first place.

Patrick even used to threaten you, saying he'd spill your guts if you didn't clean the dirty dishes you left in the sink. He'd say he'd find an axe and chop you up if you didn't put away your unfolded laundry. Patrick hated how messy you could get, but contrary to his past bloody ventures, he'd never really hurt you. Though, he regretted letting you come over most days. He often questioned himself, why he seemed to not have his dark thoughts and fantasies when around you. He was getting soft, and he hated you for it... Most of the time.

~~~

Coming home after a long day at work, Patrick found you on the couch, watching 'I Love Lucy.' Patrick ignored you at first, making his way to his room, before going to the kitchen. He stopped, his dark eyes staring at the kitchen sink, a dirty cup sitting within it. Rage began to boil inside of him, and his hands clenched into fists. His teeth ground together as his eyes burned with anger. His jaw tensed further, and he stalked across the living room, glaring daggers at you. You paid attention to him when he walked up to you, a small smile forming on your lips.

"Hi, Patty, bad day at work?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, as he just stared down at you.

"You left dishes in the sink." He answered slowly, making your eyes widen in shock.

"Oh," You muttered, getting up off the couch, "I did?" You then asked, walking over to the sink and letting out a sigh at the sight of the cup from your coffee. You turned to find Patrick right behind you, almost startling you at how close he was, but he had done that before. You looked up at him, giving him a small apologetic smile, "I'm sorry about that, honey. I got distracted."

Patrick didn't say a word, before he placed his hands around your upper arms, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly before he moved you to the side. You stumbled over your own feet, watching confused as Patrick peeled off his suit jacket, folding it neatly before setting it on the counter and grabbing yellow gloves. Rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white button-up up to his elbows, Patrick began to scrub fiercely at the cup before it was squeaky clean.

You continued watching as he scrubbed the cup with a sponge, you totally understood why Patrick was so angry with you, but your thoughts were mainly on the fact that he didn't threaten you. You knew that he’d never even hurt you in the first place. But, seeing that he was so frustrated, you didn't want to ask him about it or egg him on. You didn't want to upset him even more. 

Given that you were given the opportunity practically on a silver plate, you let your eyes rake over the man in front of you. The way his perfectly combed hair bounced slightly as he aggressively cleaned the dish, the way his dark eyes seemed a slight shade darker as he glared down at the soapy water, and the way his jaw was perfectly clenched, as his muscles flexed with every movement he made. Your breath hitched for a moment, causing your heart to skip a beat when he turned to glare at you, and you quickly pulled your gaze away from him. Your cheeks began to heat up as your fingers itched at the want and need to touch him. Your hand twitches.

"You're so handsome." You spoke up as you looked back up at him, making him freeze. Patrick turned and stared at you, his body tense, his brows furrowed. 

"What?" He finally responded, his voice low as his expression remained the same.

Your smiled adoringly, "You're so handsome," You repeated, "I know you know this, but I just have to say it." Patrick just stared at you as you continued, becoming a bit more shy as you went on, "And I'm sorry for forgetting about the cup. I know how much you strive for perfection. This is your home, and I should clean up after myself as you do at my place." 

You watched as Patrick looked away, not saying a word as he paced the clean cup on the dish rack and pulled off the gloves. Placing his hands on the sink's ledge, he brought his gaze back to you, "Despite everything..." He muttered to himself, he felt himself begin to smile, just a small twitch of his lips. Your heartbeat quickened. It wasn't his usual, sharp and cold grin, it wasn't his scowl. But as quickly as this small, faint smile appeared, it disappeared just as fast.

Turning to you, a different type of grin slowly spread onto his face as he pulled the yellow gloves off his hands. Walking towards you, you walked backward, your back hitting the counter behind you. Your heart began to race as he stepped closer to you, your mouth falling slightly agape. Patrick tilted his head slightly to the side as you tried your best not to stare at those mesmerizingly dark eyes. Reaching out, Patrick grabbed you by the waist, surprising you as he lifted you up; slinging you over his shoulder. You let out a small gasp as you grabbed onto his shoulder, feeling his large, warm hand slide precariously up your thigh, making you squeak.

"Patrick?" You called out softly, your voice filled with confusion and excitement all mixed together as your cheeks burned. Patrick simply tightened his hold on you, his grin growing as he then made his way down the hall and into his bedroom with haste. You let out a huff, rolling your eyes with a smile. It seemed like you had been forgiven.

[eatmyshortsz666]

An AMAZING masterpiece!

Title: Not With A Thousand Bloodhounds (Jack Daniels x fem!reader)

Rating: Teen

Summary: On a stormy night, you and Jack settle in to watch a movie. It leads to a sweet conversation, a few confessions, and a very sunny day.

Warnings: Bad language. Beyond that, no warnings per se, but does include kissing; cuddling; a reader insert who hasn’t seen one of the greatest movies of all time; cheesy lines (said intentionally); fully-clothed sleeping together; terrible descriptions of cooking ingredients/skills. No major physical description of reader beyond having hair long enough to pull back and suggestion of minimal height difference between you and Jack. No use of Y/N. Post-The Golden Circle, non-canon compliant.

Word count: A beautifully odd 3,333!

Notes: Just lots of emotions and feelings from these two dorks.

(Part IV of “The Cowboy” series, picking up after All Your Perfect Imperfections. Going to do my best to keep it in order from here on out!)

(Ivy divider by @delishlydelightfuldividers / gradient dividers by @buckyenchant)

Jack rings your bell at 6:30 on the dot and you bolt across the house to answer it, falling into his arms as he peppers your cheeks, your nose, your lips with kisses. “Well, hi there,” he laughs, snapping his umbrella shut before holding you tight. You return the favor with a soft, leisurely kiss. “Good to see you, too.” 

He’s eased off a lot of his cowboy styling around you—in fact, right now he’s dressed in jeans, beat-up old Timberland boots, and a Kansas City Royals t-shirt. He still falls into the habit of slicking back his silver-and-black hair, but more loosely now; there’s less gel and more bounce to the curls you’ve discovered he was hiding. It makes it easier for you to tease it free when you’re together, and part of you thinks he does it on purpose. He still wears his trademark moustache (you’d probably actually cry if he shaved it), but he occasionally lets his beard grow in just a bit too, and you love tracing your fingers through the soft grey hairs that cover his jaw. 

He’s getting comfortable—in your town, in your presence—and your heart grows three sizes every time you realize it. 

“C’mon,” you say, lacing your fingers with his as you pull him all the way through the door. He overdramatically crashes against your back, curling his arms around your belly, his hand still in yours, and walks like that, his chin resting on your shoulder. “You are so awkward.” 

“Aw, come on, you love it.” 

You nearly stumble as he speaks that against your ear; the word has slipped past both of your lips multiple times, but you’ve never said it to each other. 

You really, really want to, though. Even if you’re utterly terrified. 

“What’s on the docket for tonight, Sugar?” 

“Thunderstorms, apparently,” you say, pulling out of his arms and pushing him down onto your couch. “So, I was thinking: instead of going into town, what if we just stay here, make some popcorn, and watch a movie?” You straddle his hips, sitting on his lap and curling your hand over his cheek. “Your choice.” 

He smiles up into your eyes. “Goodness, you’re pretty,” he breathes, and you bite your lip. “Especially when I embarrass you.” He leans up and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Sounds perfect.” 

You press your forehead to his and kiss him in the same place before climbing off him again. Reaching over to the table, you hand him the remote and grin. “Go on, I have all the services you can think of.” 

“Anything you’re opposed to?” he asks. 

“Nope, I’m daring.” You wrinkle your nose at him. “Surprise me, cowboy.” 

You can feel his eyes on you as you walk to the kitchen and you love the power you have over him when it comes to that. Six weeks, and so much of that spent together, and you’re very sure this is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’d wonder if Jack feels the same, but the way he whispers to you and touches you in private and the way he holds you and smiles at you in public makes you very sure he does, even without asking. 

You pull out the old-school popcorn machine and a bag of kernels, and almost as soon as you get the motor running you hear Jack yell from the other room. “Sugar, please tell me that sound is a real popcorn maker and you ain’t making that microwave bullshit!” 

You pop your head past the doorframe so you can see him as you respond. “Now sweetheart, what kind of host would I be if I made you eat rubbery, half-popped kernels? I’m making us the real thing, with so much butter you’re gonna need a stack of napkins.” 

“I’m tellin’ you, darlin’. Luckiest man in the whole country.” He winks, and your heart flutters. 

“I’ll be right back. You’d better have made a choice by then or I’ll choose, and I can promise you won’t like it,” you taunt. He raises an eyebrow and is suddenly incredibly studious towards your television. 

You head back in to check on the popcorn, grabbing the butter out of the refrigerator to heat it up while you wait. On the window over the sink, you hear the rain beginning to hit harder, and as you look up to watch the droplets, you see lightning in the distance. There’s a good chance this storm is going to get very bad, and you make a note to invite Jack to stay (not that he needs an invitation) if it does. 

The popper finally grinds to a stop, and you quickly toss the popcorn and butter and a bit of salt into a covered bowl so you can shake it all up and get it all combined. Tossing the cover into the sink, you grab two bottles of soda and head out to join Jack on the couch. 

“What did you pick?” you ask after placing the popcorn and drinks on the coffee table and flopping down beside him, your legs crossed over the cushions and your back nestled against his side. You notice he’s taken his boots off, and he crosses his ankles as he loops his arm around you and pulls you in tighter. 

“The Princess Bride,” he replies. “A classic, really, no matter how many times you’ve seen it.” 

You nibble on the inside of your cheek. You’ve heard of it, but… “I’ve actually never seen it, Jack,” you admit, a little sheepishly. 

“Excuse me?” he asks, and his voice is only just this side of playful. “You’re joking, right?” 

You shift so you can look at him, and his face is a mask of genuine shock. “I’m not, actually. It’s one of those movies I’ve always meant to see but it just never happened, I guess.” 

He rubs his free hand over his face. “You know, I was absolutely planning on watching like twenty minutes of this movie and then ravishing you right here on your couch but now we’re going to sit here and watch the whole thing.” 

You giggle. “Are you withholding sex from me to punish me for not watching a movie?” 

“You’re goddamn right I am,” he replies with a smirk. “Now sit back and get ready to have your mind blown, Sugar.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re secretly excited. Part of the reason you never got around to watching the movie was because the idea of a fairytale romance seemed a little farfetched and you really felt your own skepticism might taint the story. But now, with your cowboy holding you close and the salty, buttery smell of popcorn filling the room, you were willing to accept that maybe, just maybe, you found a once upon a time. 

“Grandpa? Maybe you can come over and read it to me again tomorrow.” 

“As you wish.” 

You’re more than a little surprised to feel tears in your eyes, especially as you’re smiling so widely your cheeks hurt. Jack backs the app out to the menu and nudges you with his shoulder. You grab a napkin off the table and wipe your hands and lips, making a big show of it before you turn to him; he’s vibrating like an excited puppy, and his eyes are almost as big. “Can I help you, Jack?” 

“What did you think?” His voice is soft, and you can almost hear the nerves that you’re going to disappoint him. 

You decide not to tease him. “Jack, that was incredible. I thought it was just going to be a romance, but god, I was not prepared.” You take his hands in yours. “Thank you for showing me that. Maybe I should always let you choose our movie nights.” 

“It’d be my pleasure,” he grins, and your heart jumps to your throat. 

It’s time. 

“Jack? Can I talk to you for a moment?” 

His smile fell, but only for a split second. “Everything okay, Sugar?” 

“Very,” you assure him. You reach over and take one of his hands in both of yours. “I just…” You take a deep breath and feel his fingers twitch nervously. Just say it. Jesus, you’re a grown-ass woman. You can tell him. 

“I love you.” It just blurts out of you, and you almost sob through the words. “I know it hasn’t been a long time and I know that maybe it’s way too soon to say it but the thing is… I know it’s what I feel. And the fact is, I’ve never felt it before, so I’m extra sure that’s what it is.” You inhale again, close your eyes for a moment, and finally lift your gaze to meet his. You’re relieved to see they’re sparkling, and he’s smiling. 

“Hey.” He brings his other hand up around yours, squeezing. “Sugar, you’re amazing. And I’m grateful, and once again, the luckiest goddamn man in the world. But darlin’, is…” It’s his turn to gather his courage. “Is it alright if I don’t say it back yet?” 

You nod. “Of—of course.” 

“It’s not that I don’t feel it,” he says soothingly. “But I need you to understand it’s a self-preservation thing. I haven’t let this happen in…a really long time. And I want to make sure I don’t say it to you and then immediately break your heart, because I’m still not entirely sure I’m worthy of it.” 

You want to tell him he is, to tell him you would never have invited him into your life, into your home, into your bed if he wasn’t, but instead you nod. “I know,” you say softly. “It’s alright. I know how you feel about me. You can say it when you’re ready, I promise.” 

He pulls you so you’re sitting across his lap and runs his thumb over your cheek. “I know you were hoping for more, Sugar,” he murmurs, his voice almost inaudible. “Just know… It’s been an entire lifetime since I cared about anyone as much as I care about you. I just hope that’s enough for now.” You nod again, your fingers stroking his waistline through his soft t-shirt. “Good. Now I’m gonna kiss you, okay?” 

“Please,” you reply, and he grins. 

It’s an easy kiss, not desperate or needy or even sensual. He isn’t pushing, isn’t asking for anything except your lips in response. You curl yourself into him as best as you can, your knees pressed against his belly as you settle into his arms, your fingers catching in his hair at the back of his neck. He smiles into you, his nose brushing over yours as he shifts to kiss you deeper. “Fuckin’ hell, darlin’, you taste so good.” 

You giggle. “I heard somewhere once that if your saliva is compatible, you’re meant to be,” you muse, speaking against his mouth. In response, he pulls you tighter. “Jack, sleep here tonight?” 

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked.” The rain hasn’t let up, and the thunder is still loud over your conversation, so of course you were going to ask, but knowing he was waiting for it makes you happy. “I’d be honored.” He stands with you in his arms, and it’s a little awkward but you know you’re safe as you cling to him. “M’lady.” 

The grin on your face is so big it almost hurts. “My Jack,” you reply, and his eyes shine. He carries you to your room and sets you on the bed, so careful it’s like you’re made of porcelain. He crawls over you, a bit indelicately, but when he’s settled at your side, he pulls you in again and presses a kiss to the side of your throat. “This is my favorite part of us,” he murmurs. “When it’s just you and me, lyin’ together… Nothing else matters when we’re like this.” 

“When did you get so poetic, sweetheart?” You lift your head so your chin is against his forehead, and he nuzzles under it. “Is this what a romantic movie does to you?” 

He chuckles, and it rumbles enough to shake the mattress a bit. “You should see me when I watch Titanic, Sugar. I’ll be curled up like a baby beggin’ you to never let go.” 

“I’ll never let go, Jack,” you intone, all seriousness, until he busts out in a heavy, loud laugh, squeezing you around the waist where his arm is resting. You join in, your fingers curling into the sleeve of his t-shirt and your other hand covering your eyes. “Oh, god, that was cheesy.” 

“It was perfect,” he replies, nipping at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Absolutely perfect.” 

You both try to catch your breath from the laughter, and you pull away from Jack, shuffling down the bed until you’re eye to eye with him, your hand curled around his bicep. He watches you, silent, waiting, and you nestle closer to him, so close you can feel his breath against your lips. “You always say you can’t understand how you got so lucky as to find me,” you whisper. “I hope you know I feel the same. It didn’t happen for so long I was wondering if it ever would. And then…you.” You’re so close to him you have to flick your eyes back and forth to hold his, and in doing so, you notice that his gaze has gone so soft he almost looks like he might cry. “Okay, I guess I’m done with the big romantic declarations now.” 

Jack doesn’t speak, and for a moment, you wonder if you went too far; suddenly, he rolls onto his back and pulls you with him, settling you on his chest as he smoothes down the side of your hair. His fingers catch behind your ear and he watches your face so intently, you feel the heat in your cheeks. “Sugar, you’re making it so goddamn hard to hold my tongue.” 

You shake your head vigorously. “No, don’t,” you reply, slipping a single finger over the middle of his lips. “Don’t say it if you aren’t ready to. Like you said, I know. And I’d rather hear it when you want to say it, okay?” 

He nods, pressing a kiss to your knuckle. “Okay.” He reaches his free hand up to pull yours away from his mouth and moves the kiss to your lips. “Stay like this?” he murmurs against your skin. 

You giggle. You’re in jeans, just like him, and they’re probably your least favorite thing to fall asleep in, but you’re not going to deny his request. Instead, you bite lightly at his full lower lip, nod, and settle yourself in, forehead pressed to his cheek. “Goodnight, Jack.” 

“Goodnight, darlin’.” He wraps his arms tightly around you and sighs, and you let the steady, dull thumps of his heartbeat and the deep rumbles of thunder outside lull you to dreams.

You’re standing over the stove, carefully flipping eggs into a neatly-folded omelette when you hear shuffling footsteps behind you. Turning off the burner, you smile as you feel Jack’s arms curl around your waist, his lips press to the sensitive spot under your ear. “Mm, why didn’t you wake me?” he murmurs sleepily, his beard a little rougher than usual as he nestles into your shoulder. 

“Because then you wouldn’t have let me cook for you,” you reply, allowing yourself a moment to rest your head against his. “And I figured it was about time, even if I’m no wizard in the kitchen like you.” 

“I’m sure it’s delicious.” He kisses your throat. “Do you need help?” 

You shake your head. “Just about done. Go sit, lemme get you a plate.” 

One more brush of his lips over your skin and he’s gone from you, and you realize you miss the weight of him on your back. You roll your eyes at your own ridiculousness and stir the frying potatoes once more before spooning a generous helping onto a plate, the omelette right beside it. When you lean around him to place it on the table, you allow yourself the chance to kiss the swirl of hair at the crown of his head. 

It’s so goddamn domestic you almost cry. 

You’re not the most confident chef, so while Jack digs in you make a point to not be near him, instead setting your own plate before tossing all the dirty pans into the sink with some hot water and dish soap. You’re on your way back to join him when he lets out a muffled, “Holy shit, Sugar!” 

“What?” you say, suddenly sure you did just about everything you possibly could wrong with something. You drop your plate and stare at him, realizing… 

He’s in ecstasy. 

“J-Jack?” you stammer. “Are you okay?” 

“These potatoes,” he manages after swallowing. “What the hell did you do to them?” 

You rack your brain; they’re a family recipe your dad showed you years ago, and you pretty much make them on autopilot now. “Um, just onions, green peppers, scallions, garlic powder, and olive oil, really? Oh, and a pinch of paprika.” You stare at him. “Are they that good?” 

“Darlin’, fuck,” he says, shoveling up another forkful. “Taste nearly as good as you.” 

You bust out laughing and fall into your chair. “Jack, you’re killing me,” you gasp. “I thought I’d poisoned you or something.” 

“If you laughin’ and these potatoes are the last things I get in this life, I’ll die a happy man,” he replies, his mouth full again. “Thought you said you didn’t know how to cook well?” 

“This is my one thing!” you giggle, trying to regain control. “Like, everyone’s got that one thing, right? Well, this is it for me, I suppose.” 

“Well, Sugar, I would say there are a few more things you’re damn good at”—he wiggles his eyebrows and you swat his shoulder—“but this is absolutely up there on the list.” 

“Oh, for the love of—” You can’t help grinning. “Jack, just eat your breakfast.” 

He ends up stealing more than half the potatoes left on your plate after he finishes his own, but you don’t mind. You sit, you laugh, you chat; it’s the most peaceful, happy morning you’ve had in ages. 

You’re due at the library at one, and Jack is more than happy to drive you, so you change into more work appropriate attire and grab your bag before meeting him out at his truck. 

He puts you in charge of the radio again, and you’ve learned he really loves Fleetwood Mac, so you throw on the greatest hits CD and roll the windows down, enjoying the cool, post-storm air as the two of you sing along to “Rhiannon” and “Dreams”. Jack’s favorite is “Go Your Own Way”, and you rest your head against the back of your chair and watch him as he drives, the words rolling from his lips almost like second nature. 

“Your destination is on the right.” 

Jack’s GPS breaks the reverie of the moment, cutting into “Don’t Stop” and making you groan. “I should have called in sick today and stayed home with you,” you sigh as he pulls into a parking spot on the corner. 

“Nah, you shouldn’t have,” he grins. “I’m not gonna be responsible for you missing work. Alex already hates me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you.” 

“He does. Because you picked me.” Jack smiles, looking at you over the top of his Aviators. “It’s alright. I can handle it. So long as he doesn’t take it out on you.” 

You shake your head. “He wouldn’t.” 

“You’d tell me if he did, right?” You nod. “Good girl.” Leaning across the space between you, he catches your lips in a kiss. “Have a good day at work, Sugar.” 

You brush your thumb over his cheek before opening your door and climbing out. “Pick me up at 8:30?” 

He smiles brightly, shooting you a wink. “As you wish.” 

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