#for when I get the urge to grill a cheese

[wanda-widow]

Post-Mission

Grumpy!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 832

Summary: Bucky has always been one to try and pull away from people who care about him. However, you're always one to be insistent and care for him anyways, no matter what he says.

18+ MDNI

Warnings: slight angst, implied smut if you squint your eyes, fluff

Like and reblog if you wish 💗

Hearing footsteps shuffle down the hall along with the sound of a dragging duffle was all you needed to know that Bucky was back from his week long mission. Hopping off the bed and peeking your head out of your shared bedroom, you saw Bucky scrub a weary hand down his face. You instantly frowned, worried as you hurried over to him, taking the duffle out of his hands. 

“How was the mission? Are you hurt anywhere? We should get you some food, you look exhausted” you said while rushing back to the room to unpack his gear as he let out a sigh, silently chucking off his boots before face planting on the bed. 

“Bucky?” came your worried voice after you put his boots into the closet, sitting on the bed next to him and poking his shoulder. “Bucky, get up. Shower, eat, and then rest.” you urged, poking him again when his vibranium hand shot out to grip your wrist.

“Let me sleep” he said gruffly before shifting on the bed so that his back was turned to you, leaving you rubbing your wrist softly. You knew he wasn’t too responsive after missions since it took so much out of him, not that he was one for words or self care anyways. Still, you took it upon yourself to make sure he was cared for. 

“Please? I’ll make you plum croissants tomorrow if you just shower and eat” you tried again, scooting closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder as you felt him sigh again before sitting up.

“Eat and then shower” he said, running a hand through his hair as he made his way to one of the compound communal kitchens, sitting down on one of the stools as he waited for you expectantly. 

“Grilled cheese?” you offered, slotting yourself in the opening between his thighs, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he nodded, fingers trailing down your arm as you pulled away. You could feel his gaze follow you as you bustled around the kitchen to make his food. “Go shower and then you can eat after” you said softly, turning around to look at him as he frowned, reaching out to tug you by the wrist back into his proximity.

“Thought you would shower with me” he said softly, letting his walls down while no one else was around. You felt his hands come to rest on your waist, forehead between your breasts as he pressed a kiss through your clothes. 

“Another time, I promise” you laughed softly, letting your hands run through his hand before stopping at his shoulders, letting one hand trail down his vibranium arm. He let out a quiet whine before getting off the stool, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. You watched as he went back to the room to shower before turning back to the sandwich, humming softly.

20 minutes later, Bucky was freshly showered and seated at the counter once more, gaze still fixed on you as you plated his sandwich and sat next to him. He ate in silence for a while as you observed the new wounds on his back. Finding some gauze and neosporin, you began to bandage them gently.

“They’re shallow but-” 

“They’re nothing” Bucky cut you off but made no move to stop you from patching him up. After placing the last piece of medical tape, he turned in his stool to face you, the both of you exchanging silent conversation before he got up to wash his plate. 

“If you keep going on long missions, you’re just gonna keep destroying yourself, Buck” you said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. It became more apparent that the past couple months, he just drew further into himself with each mission, determined to block out the pain with endless fighting. 

“I’m just helping the team” he said tersely, putting his dish in the drying rack before he walked back to the room, expecting you to follow behind him. You stood there for a moment, willing for the emotions to fade, to appreciate that he was here. 

Your legs moved in habit, walking to your shared bedroom and flicking off the light before sliding under the covers with him. You could still hear his breaths, short and controlled. He wasn’t asleep.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke up again. “I don’t mean it, doll. The rudeness, the violence. I’m trying.”

“Bucky…” you started quietly but stopped when you felt the bed shift, a heavy weight now resting across your waist, shallow puffs of breath ghosting across your collarbone. 

“I’ll take a month break, spend time with you?” he half offered, half begged, the grip on your waist tightening.

“James…” 

“Only time with you. No one else unless really needed” he whispered, his leg shifting to now rest over yours, lips gently sucking at the base of your neck, smirking when he felt you cave. 

“How does Bali sound?” 

[myosotisa]

The trailer is dark, the park quiet as snow when you finally manage to drag yourself from the warmth of the blankets and the smell of Eddie that they encase you in. He'd slipped out of them 10 minutes earlier -- a kiss on the crown of your head and a sleepy mumble in your ear as he carefully extracted himself from your embrace. You'd been too close to sleep to hear what he'd told you in that low voice; you felt it in vibrations from where you were pressed to his chest more than you had heard it. So you went searching.

Padding down the hall in a pair of thick socks, boxers, and a sweatshirt (all belonging to Eddie), you navigate toward the soft, orange light diffusing across the linoleum beyond the wooden arch that cut off the bedroom and bathroom from the rest of the trailer. You could hear a slight scrape of plastic against metal and the baritone hum that came from your boyfriend, the sweetest siren's call that would guide you through even the darkest nights.

Eddie stands in the kitchen with his bare back to you. The light from above the stove, the only light in the entire place, filters out around him in a golden glow. His hair is down and messy from sleep, shoulders rising and falling in easy breaths, black sweatpants hung low on his hips, the feathery wings of black ink that span across his shoulder blades shifting as his arms adjust whatever he has on the burner.

He is always pretty, unfairly so, but there is something so absolutely striking about him like this. At night he's softer, calmer, warmer -- less sharp grins and more loving smiles, less restless adjusting and more relaxed lounging. His doe eyes are still big and brown as ever, but they blink slower, simmer deeper. And while you love both sides of Eddie, you treasure this one. The one only you get to see, the gentle side of him that rises with the moon and lives within the familiar walls of your home and within your arms. You so often find yourself thanking the universe for giving you this, giving you him. This is definitely one of those moments.

After taking several peaceful seconds to appreciate the view, you travel silently forward, unable to resist the urge to feel his skin on yours again. He jumps a bit in surprise when your cold fingers skate past his narrow waist, his body relaxing again by the time you wrap both arms around him and mold yourself to the planes of his back.

"What are you doing out of bed, sweet girl?" The softly spoken question comes out almost scolding, but the timber of his voice bleeds out warmth and comfort, a smile evident despite you being unable to see his face.

Lips pressed to his bare skin, eyes falling closed, you answer honestly and with a little bit of embarrassment. "Missed you, didn't know where you went."

His torso rumbles in a quiet laugh, his back widening against your chest as he intakes air. "I told you before I left."

"Didn't hear you, was too sleepy." He lets out an understanding hum as his non-dominant arm drapes across your own, his palm warm even through the thick fabric of your sweatshirt. "What're you making?"

"Had a craving for a grilled cheese. You want one?"

"Mmmmmmm, I do love cheese," you murmur, delighting as his skin erupts in goosebumps when you hum against him.

"And I do love you, sweet girl. So I think we might be able to work something out."

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 134 }

drugstore perfume.

peter parker x fem.reader

notes: post no way home.

{ gone, today | i might just see you around | it hurts but i understand | if you can't find another reason not to stay }

there was a cute guy that often stopped by your diner, exuding a type of loneliness that kept you achingly captivated.

he orders simple meals, often opting for a lighter meal consisting of a simple sandwich with a bowl of whatever the soup of the day was. with your workplace being a diner that remained opened for 24 hours, for once, you were happy that your usual shift was the graveyard shift.

without fail, he would come in around 2 to 3am, wearing a hoodie with unexplained cuts and bruises dotting his skin. and despite the minor injuries that were kept sustained against his face, it didn't do much to mar his soft and gorgeous features.

each time you would serve him, he would give you that same, sad smile. his kind eyes always appeared grateful before digging into his meal, yet it was clear that he was keeping many parts of himself hidden from you.

you had a sense that... that there was so much more to him than meets the eye.

why was it that every time he would enter the diner, he was covered in fading bruises?

why was he always alone, never once coming into the diner with a friend or family member?

and why did you have this inexplicable urge to comfort him each time he would gaze out the diner's window, his unblinking gaze staring at the cityscape with some unknown emotion you could never quite place.

you wanted to get closer to him-

to find out all the mysteries he had to offer.

and you were finally going to do something about it.

it was like you had become so accustomed to his presence, with you getting ready for work each night whilst sporting a gentle smile on your face. once your uniform was on, you step out of your apartment and began your trek towards the diner, your strides having a bit of the bounce to them.

your walk to work was uneventful (as per usual), with you clocking right at 10pm, ready to relieve your coworker of her shift as you take her place, taking on orders for the new patrons that surrounded the diner.

you kept busy, doing your best to not look at the clock as the hours ticked by, your heart practically pounding as it neared 2am. as if responding to the late hours, the amount of customers you served began to dwindle down, leaving you alone with the cook as the diner was now empty.

with a hum, you begin wiping down the tables, eyes trailing over to the clock once more, seeing that the time read 2:05 when you hear the sounds of a door opening.

you look back to see him, flashing you a sheepish smile as his brown eyes met with your welcoming gaze. he spends a few seconds admiring you, shaking his head while fighting back a blush. a cough was heard coming from him before he looks away from you.

walking with a comfortable pace, you allow yourself to stand next to him, brushing back your hair while taking out your pad and pen.

"hey peter, your bruise looks a lot better today."

you greet him by stating his first name, shivering a bit when he lets out a hum in response. those gentle vibrations heard coming from him was enough to make your knees a little weak for him.

"uh, thanks... i told you before that i can heal pretty well."

you nod and meet his gaze, your smile kind and genuine. "what can i get for you?"

"what's the soup of the day?"

"tomato bisque."

"then i'll take a grilled cheese, with some coffee, please."

"got it, peter."

you felt yourself smiling when you turn away from peter, already replaying the interaction you just had with him within your mind. he was just so sweet, and you felt your desires to get to know him growing in response.

you linger against the cooking area, waiting by the window for the cook to finish making peter's order. paul looks at you while toasting up the bread on his grill.

"what's this about? you hardly linger close to me when i'm trying to work." paul lets out a grunt before placing the cheese on top of the slices, combining them together into the perfect grilled cheese.

"i know i know, but... this guy's special to me." you admit to the cook with a whisper, a familiar heat felt against your cheeks. "so i was wondering... could you make me a sandwich, too? just so i can talk to him a bit?"

paul lets out another grunt, "don't see why not. we ain't busy or anythin' so sure. get your boy, then."

you can feel the heat spreading across your cheeks as you waited for paul to finish. within the next 10 minutes, he places both of your orders on a tray while giving you a wink. you smile brightly at him, taking the food while making your way towards peter's table.

peter looks away from his phone, setting it off to the side as you caught a glimpse of the news article he was reading.

SPIDER-MAN STRIKES AGAIN! STOPPING AN ARMED ROBBERY AT THE FIRST AMERICA BANK!!

"here's your order pete. and oh? i didn't peg you to be a fan of spider-man."

your voice was casual as you sit across from him with your own grilled cheese and tomato bisque soup. peter's blushing face and sudden gape made it clear that your question made him feel flustered when he quickly reaches out to shut off his phone, hiding the news article from you.

"ah, y-yeah, i was just curious about him, t-that's all." his voice appeared crack, but he was all too eager to change the subject when he sees you sitting across from him with the same meal.

"oh, you're eating too?"

"yes...uhm, i just wanted to keep you company, i guess?" you admit to him with a shy smile, trying to hide your shyness when biting into your own grilled cheese sandwich.

peter's eyes were seen furrowed for a brief second before his expression changes into a sweet smile. "thanks, i think i could use your company, actually."

that was all that needed to be said when peter begins to enjoy his own meal, biting into his grilled cheese dipped into the tomato bisque. he sneaks glances at you, and you could tell that he wanted to say so much more than what he was actually letting on.

you strengthen your resolve and decide to guide the conversation first. "this may not be any of my business but... i notice that you've been coming here for a while."

"mhmm." peter looks back up at you, and you notice how his rich, brown hair falls across his forehead, making your hands itch with the urge to gently brush it back.

however, you were able to fight back such urges, keeping your hands tightly balled up against your lap in response. "s-so, what i was wondering is... why are you always alone?"

you allow your question to linger within the air, sensing that it was an uncomfortable question for peter to try and answer. his hand seemed to grip tightly at the spoon, and you watch when he seemed to bend the metal in response.

your eyes go wide when peter suddenly stands from his seat, running a hand through his hair as he grabs his phone reached into his pockets to get out his wallet.

"sorry, i have to go."

he grabs a few bills from his wallet before tossing them on the table, filling you with a guilt when you look back at his half-eaten meal. "wait, peter, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to-"

"keep the change."

that was all he said before he quickly leaves the diner, making your heart turn cold as ice was felt coursing through your veins. upon hearing the commotion, paul walks out of the kitchen right as peter left. confusion was seen in the man's gaze when he looks down at the table, seeing the completely bent spoon while letting out a whistle.

"damn, did he do that?"

yet you couldn't bring yourself to answer him, simply taking both of your half-eaten meals, being filled with a guilt for potentially overstepping your boundaries with peter.

just who are you? those were the thoughts that lingered within your heart and mind, filling you with an even deeper yearning to get a better understanding of the mysterious young man who seemed to have built a wall around his very heart...

{ ... }

your shift didn't end for another hour, yet paul could sense how distracted you had become and let you off early. he tells you that the waitstaff for the morning shift was on their way and that you could go home to cool off.

"i'll let 'em know you weren't feeling too well, so you just focus on getting some rest."

you give him a grateful smile, clocking out while grabbing your belongings together. "you're the best, paul."

he lets out a rich chuckle while stating your name, "you're damn right i am. be careful going home now, okay?"

with one last nod, you give him a wave and got out of the diner, taking in the cool, early morning air as the sky steadily began to lighten in response to the incoming sun.

"hey."

a soft voice stops you from stepping forward, and you look behind you to see peter himself waiting off to the side. he wore an apologetic expression on his face, adjusting his hoodie while coming closer to you.

"mind if i walked you home?"

you shake your head eagerly at peter, "n-no, i don't mind at all."

he smiles at you, taking a stance right next to you as he kept up with your casual pace. you look back at him and smile.

"were you... waiting for me?"

"yes." peter admits with a sigh, running a hand across his hair once more, making them appear much messier than before. "i felt like an ass for how i treated you back there."

"n-no! don't be, i...i may have gone too far with such a question. a-and, i'm sorry."

"i'm sorry, too."

admittedly, your heart felt so much lighter with your respective apologies stated clearly, no longer feeling the guilt when you continue walking back to your apartment with peter by your side.

you spent several seconds in silence when his voice was heard cutting through your thoughts. "i've lost so many people, that's why you always see me alone."

your heart clenches when you could detect the unbidden sadness in his voice. "you have, peter?"

he doesn't meet your gaze, keeping his eyes against the skyline when he nods at you. the more you looked at him, the more you could see his soft brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears from beneath the sunlight.

"yeah, i have..."

you stop walking, not liking the fact that peter was suffering so much. his loneliness truly didn't seem intentional at all. wishing to change the subject for him, you sigh and lighten up your tone.

"you know, i've been curious about the bruises i see on your face sometimes..."

peter stiffens in response to your observation, but you quickly hold up your hands in response.

"i-i mean, i don't think much of it, i just thought you were into boxing, or were an mma fighter or something."

your words succeed in making peter burst out in a laugh. "what? are you serious? an mma fighter?"

"ah, you're laughing at me?!"

you join in with him, actually feeling so relieved that he had relaxed, even just a tiny bit, while talking to you. he continues to laugh, and you allow yourself to bask within the sounds of his joy.

"sorry, that's kind of flattering, but i may not be bulky enough to be an mma fighter..." peter purposely trails off, continuing to walk with you when you see a wistful smile painting at his features.

"but that isn't to say that i can't fight."

you freeze and stop walking once more, your eyes looking up at him with intrigue. peter also stops walking again, appearing like it was taking him a herculean effort to not laugh at his very moment.

"care to elaborate, pete?"

he lets out a sigh of your name before shrugging. "nah, i don't think i will. i like keeping you on your toes."

that was all he says before walking ahead of you, making you gasp as you ran towards him, telling him how mean he was being to you while he laughs, seeming to enjoy this banter with you as he continued to walk you home.

{ ... }

your mind was constantly filled with thoughts of peter, and you couldn't seem to sit still whenever your daydreams with him would take over.

after walking with you to your apartment, you traded numbers with him and end up texting him on a near daily basis. he was charming, funny, and had to be the most attractive guy you had ever met. your happiness was so infectious that your co-workers take note of the change in your attitude, seemingly happy that things were going well for you and peter.

today was your weekend off, and you decided to spend it out in the city. you texted peter once more early in the morning, but had yet to receive a reply back from him. not thinking much of peter's sudden inactivity, you went on with your day.

you thought about your plans, and wondered if you wanted to head to a café, or your local bookstore to treat yourself to something nice. and maybe, if peter ever replied back to you, you could invite him to join you with whatever activity you wished to do.

that was all that filled your mind when you waited at the stoplight for your turn to cross the street. you stopped checking the messages on your phone and placed it back within the safety of your bag. when you saw that it was safe for you to walk did you finally cross the road-

however, the screeching sounds of tires quickly approaching you makes you freeze in response.

as if time had gone into slow motion, your eyes take in the quickly approaching car, seeing a couple arguing in the front. the driver was not paying much attention to the road, still screaming at his girlfriend as your eyes take in the close proximity of the car.

within the next seconds, the woman sees you and screams, "WATCH OUT!"

yet before the car could make its grave impact into you, you felt your body being flung away as a pair of powerful arms rescues you from the speeding car.

you were hit with an intense vertigo, filling you with a dizziness as your eyes take in the passing scenery of the city. you were so close to puking-

yet within the next second, you found yourself safely planted against a rooftop.

your steps were unsteady as the same pair of powerful arms that saved you continues to wrap around you.

"hey, hey, look at me, are you okay? you're not hurt anywhere, are you?"

your blurry eyes finally look forward, seeing the familiar mask of a vigilante, taking in the spider motif seen against his skin tight suit. you could tell that he was staring at you with concern, even with the way his mask covered the entirety of his features.

the adrenaline slowly simmers down, bringing you down to your knees as you kept on trembling within spider-man's arms.

"oh my god, i was about to- i-i nearly-"

before you could even process how you were so close to dying, you felt spider-man wrap his arms around you, bringing you closer to him as you felt a pair of soft, chapped lips pressing desperately against your own.

the way his lips perfectly slot against yours was enough to make your anxieties go away. you feel the way his hands delve into your hair, pressing one last deep kiss against your lips before pulling away from you.

"ssh, don't even think about it anymore. you're here, safe and sound in my arms. just breathe... just breathe..."

spider-man continues to distract you, holding you in his arms as he walked closer to the edge of the building. his grip on you was tight when he brushes back your hair, pulling down his mask once more while giving you a chance to calm down.

when your breathing goes back to normal, becoming even while losing its hyperventilated quality did he softly ask you, "do you want me to take you home?"

you were still recovering from the shock of his kiss and your near death experience, only managing to give him a nod in response. and despite how you couldn't see his smile, you could hear it in his voice.

"you just hang on to me as tightly as you can, okay? i won't ever drop you, and all you need to do is just trust me."

you give the masked vigilante a nod. "yes, i trust you, spidey."

wrapping your arms around him, you hid your face within his neck as he used his webs to travel quickly through the city. his webs lands with an accurate precision against the buildings, yet still remained durable enough to hold his and your weight. shutting your eyes, you bask at the sensation, feeling as though you were flying from within spider-man's arms.

in just a few minutes, he lands at the front of your fire escape, unlocking your window with his skilled hands as he climbs into your apartment with you.

your eyes go wide when a sudden wave of clarity hits you, feeling spider-man go into your room when he sits on top of your bed with you, this time, his body was trembling.

"spidey-"

he ends up holding you tight, wrapping his arms around your back while hiding his face within the curve of your neck.

"i-i thought i lost you... f-fuck, i thought you were going to be gone from my life, too."

your heart begins to pound, recognizing that broken quality of his voice when you place you hand behind spider-man's head. the hero allows you to pull his face away from you, not even stopping you when you completely lift up his mask-

revealing peter to you.

you caught a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes for a brief moment when he suddenly kisses you again, allowing you to taste the saltiness of his tears as he crushes your frame closer to his body. sobs were felt raking down his form when you gently kiss him back, all while whispering gentle words of comfort to him.

you allow him to cling to you, letting his tears fall freely when you lay back against your bed with him. as he continues to cry against your neck, allowing those warm droplets to cascade down your skin, your heart became softer for him. making sure that you were holding him tightly against you, you begin to draw invisible circles around his back, waiting for peter to catch his breath.

after several minutes, you felt him pressing a kiss against your cheek, catching your attention when he frames at your face.

"sorry, for giving me a minute to... to let it all out."

he rests his forehead against yours, and you were filled with a soft affection for him, running your fingers through his hair in response.

"did you want to talk about it."

"eventually, i will." peter manages to tell you in a breathless whisper. "eventually, but not now."

you hum in agreement, falling back against your bed while still gently running your hands against his soft hair. "take all the time that you need, peter. i'll be here... i'll always be here for you."

peter lets out a sharp inhale, now strengthening his hold on you when he slowly admits to you.

"you're the reason why i came to the diner so much."

your heart nearly bursts in response to his words, making you meet his gaze once more, seeing the love he had for you shining in them.

"really?"

"yeah...really." peter smiles while brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. "when i first came to the diner, i wasn't expecting to see such a cute waitress; one that stole my heart at first glance."

he sighs and leans forward to kiss your cheek, the action feeling quite soft and sweet to you. "at first, i just wanted to protect you; to make sure that you were safe while working. but... the more i observed you, the harder i fell for you."

peter meets your gaze once more and shakes his head, "that night, when you asked me why i was so alone all the time, i wanted to come clean to you right then and there, b-but, i had to stop myself. i knew that when i finally told you, then it would need to be the full story, with me not hiding a single thing from you-"

you cut off his words with another kiss, basking in his tiny moans of your name before pulling away from him.

"you don't have to worry about telling me, peter. i won't ever leave your side, so... you have all the time in the world."

you go back to wrapping your arms around his back, letting him rest his head against your shoulder when you reassure him once more, "i won't ever leave you, and i'll be happy to listen to your story when your ready."

basking in the way his body loosens up, you allow peter to wrap his arms tightly around you, speaking with a bit of a tremor in his voice when he asks you, "do you promise?"

"i promise." with your oath lingering in the air, you press your lips against his forehead, ready to stay by his side as you smiled to yourself, feeling happy that you managed to break down his walls- slowly becoming the absolute love of his life.

{ and as these days go by | they can't change how long we've waited for | a love that's more ... a love that's more. }

a.n. - lmao, i am so sorry it took me a whole month to get a new peter parker story out. when i realized i had gained a few new readers with joy, i knew that i couldn't stop writing for peter with just that story alone. this is unedited, but it has become one of my favorite stories that i have written in a long time. 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[brooke-likesmusic]

My outsiders head cannons because idk im bored (warning I’ll prolly misspell things!)

Darry:

1: When he was younger he used to play in the mud with Pony and soda and they would go back into the house and their mom would kick them out and would have to spray them down with a hose

2: (after the book) Darry and pony had gotten into a argument like brothers do and Darry Couldng handle it anymore and broke down in tears in front of both his brothers.

3: he has nightmares sometimes and they cause him to wake up in a panic and he would always have to check up on pony and soda to make sure they were okay

4: idk why some people like make him seem like a Facebook mom who likes minion memes and dad jokes. HES BARELY 20 YEARS OLD. He would probably say the most unfiltered ass shit in a group chat 😭

5: he gets those random urges to like kick or playfully hit pony or soda (I do that 😣)

6: ate rotten food once and work and got sick and his boss had to drive the boy home since he was so sick

7: will probably work himself till he makes himself sick like he Wont stop himself till someone stops him

8: hates seeming like a parent more then a older brother sometimes when the boys need reminders that Darry is still their brother Darry will start a game of tag and all the brothers will run around the house. (When they did that when their parents were alive they knocked down a special vase and they all got whooped)

9 : likes cats. He has a stray cat at work that he shares his lunch with he named it “kitty cat” sooooo creative righttt

10: doesn’t like ham (idk that just randomly appeared in my mind)

Extra: used to bite as a child and gags when those chunks of food in the sink hits his hands

Soda

1: stinks like car oil and pony will not allow him to get into the bed till he showers

2: likes grilled cheeses (me too bro)

3: he once caught Darry having a panic attack and didn’t really know what to do since he’s never really saw his brother like Cry like that so he was awkwardly comforting him😭

4: makes Radom sounds like with his mouth and it’s makes the others tweak

5: gets dates mixed up really easily

6: after Darry slapped pony, soda in a fit of like idk rage punched Darry square in the face.

7: WILL forget to clean under his fingernails.

8: Darry ate his food once and soda ignored him for the rest of the night. Anytime Darry Tried to talk to him soda would give him a snooty face and would cross his arms and say “mhmp”

9: cries when he watches dog movies (like all dogs go to heaven or a dogs purpose or a dogs way home)

10: has the most NASTIEST converse and refuses to clean them

Ponyboy

1: can only cook eggs he cannot cook anything else 😭

2: loves chocolate milk (I think that’s in the book)

3: tried Darry’s coffee once and almost threw up since it was so bitter

4: likes to race Darry since they were both in sports that involved a lot of running

5: stole one of Darry’s old sweatshirts and REFUSES to give it back. He loves that sweatshirt it’s like 2 sizes to big for him

6: (after the book) had a huge growth spurt after the book like it wasn’t even funny😭

7: since Darry and soda are such deep sleepers pony once drew like a “rocketship” and all those other things teenage boys draw he drew it on his brothers faces😣

8: chews his nails

9: has/had a crush on a soc girl and got teased by the gang relentlessly

10: (if it was like modern day idk) he would love headphones/airpods

Dallas

1: got chased by a dog and is forever traumatized from

2: would prolly stink like beer and sweat

3: bro can sleep through a tornado

4: bro prolly has the most greasiest hair

5: bro has a laugh that makes everyone else laugh

6: (before the Curtis parents died) dally finally made Darry sneak out with him and they ended up getting pulled up on by Mr Curtis and they both ended up getting in so much trouble 😭

7: made a your mom joke to the Curtis brothers and ended up getting jumped 😣

8: like those bland ass Cheerios

9: favorite fruit is cherries

10: bro will flip his underwear inside out and backwards since his nasty ass don’t wanna waste the time to wash the clothes

Steve

1: gets mad and when Darry doesn’t make chocolate cake 😣

2: bro will make himself at home at the Curtis house that couch practically as a ass imprint from him

3: likes strawberry shortcake (that’s his favorite dessert)

4: has so much beef with ponyboy they diss eachother anytime they get to

5: bro will HOG the bed if you share it with him

(Sorry his is kinda short 😣)

Two-bit

1: lost his Mickey Mouse shirt in the washer and thought he lost it forever

2: has a younger sister (protective brother)

3: knows how to braid hair

4: tried to recreate Darry’s infamous chocolate cake and he failed miserably 😭

5: he was really mad at Darry when pony ran away. When he found out he said straight in Darry’s face “good brother my ass.”

6: favorite Disney princess is belle (idk why I thought of that)

7: when he’s actually like serious the gang like tenses up a bit

8: knows all the drama from his younger sister he had beef with little kids he’s never even met

His lil sister: “yeah and Shelly and David are dating when she knew David was my crush and I told her too”

Two-bit: “I don’t like Shelly or David 🙄”

Johnny

1: (when the Curtis parents were alive) he once ran to the Curtis house after his father hit him super hard and Mrs Curtis took him in for the night giving him a hot meal and a warm shower and some clean clothes.

2: whenever he needs to crash somewhere he has a designated pallet that he sleeps on in the Curtis house

3: likes m&m popcorn

4: chews the side of his nails

5: can go days without eating

6: bro needs to wash that Jean jacket

(SORRY HIS IS SO SHORT)

[seat-safety-switch]

"Oh shit! Oh shit! The house is on fire!" shrieks my old college roommate.

Normally, I hate it when people try to get me to do things quickly. We're all equal under the great golden sun, and one person's demands cannot be imposed on someone else. That is, unless they're holding me up in traffic or going slow on an off-ramp so I have to check if my brakes work. I despise that. So selfish.

"The drapes! The fucking drapes!" he continues to scream as I slowly turn on the kitchen sink and fill a cheese-stained pot with water. There's no reason to rush: haste makes waste, after all, and this kind of crisis will make you trip over the rug and hurt yourself badly. Calmness is paramount here.

As I watch patiently to make sure the water in the pot doesn't overflow, my former roommate is frantically beating the curtains and walls with a couch cushion. One with a polyester cover, a choice made in a panic, which is gonna create all kinds of nasty smoke. Make it harder to see. Bad move. Should've thought about it more.

I shut off the tap. The fire is now way too big to be put out by the relatively small amount of water in my pot, so rather than waste my time and energy throwing it at the now-engulfed couch, I walk to the front door. There, I put on my coat, hat, and boots, and head out into the snow.

The additional heat pouring out of the house at this point has defrosted the quarter-century-old boat battery ratchet-strapped to the grille. This makes it much easier to start, and the Volare spurts to life in a mere two or three cranks.

Even as the paint blisters on the hood, I wait. There's no reason to get going when the oil pressure is this low and the engine is this cold, after all. It will cause long-term damage. By now, Ted is pounding on the passenger side window, urging me to open the door so we can get away. Sorry, amigo. I was going to get around to fixing that lock, but I didn't want to until there was a good reason. I'll get it fixed and come back next week.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: have a happy friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Sunday gives you an excuse to get away. Pete, like a dog with his tail between his legs, doesn't even try to come up with an excuse to 'work'. You take Simone with you to the grocery store, warning the slug that he can handle Malik for a couple hours alone. You notice the pout in his lips but don't acknowledge it.

You don't need much but you take your time. You agree to buy Simone an Archie comic, shrugging off the extra few dollars as you notice her growing restless. You made her leave her book at home. You're happy she loves to read but she can't ignore the world all the time.

"You wanna get lunch?" You ask as you push the cart through the lot.

"Mm, I dunno," she drags her feet, "I'm tired."

"Probably 'cause you need to eat," you judge her with your elbow, "come on, how often is it just the two of us."

She grumbles but you ignore her reluctance. You're in no hurry to get home and you can scrounge enough for a sit down in the diner. It might be the last nice thing you can afford.

You load up the bags on the trunk and drive down the block to the same place you would take Simon when you were still pregnant with Malik. Those days were nice and so far behind you. The memory makes your heart ache.

You open the door ahead of Simone and follow her into the mom and pop shop. You're seated by the window in a booth. You order coffee as your daughter gets an apple juice. You peruse the menu but you're not very hungry.

"Oh, they still have the grilled cheese," you say.

"Yeah…" she continues to read the menu, nonplussed by your suggestion.

You tap your toe and cup your chin as you look out the window. It's a nice day even if you're gloomy inside. You turn back to the table and flip over the menu. 

The waitress returns with your drinks. You sip your coffee before you order a mac and cheese and Simone gets chicken fingers. You hand the menus over and smile at your daughter. She's old enough, she'll catch on soon.

"So, what's your latest adventure about?" You ask.

"Uh, well, I just read one about a knight. She's a girl and she goes off to fight an army of trolls…"

You immerse yourself in her retelling of the children's novel. You don't care, it's better than reality. You giggle and smile as she becomes more animated. She can be so monotone but her passion makes you proud.

A figure approaches, breaking your trance, and you look over expecting the waitress. To your chagrin, it's not.

You grip the edge of the table as Simone's voice peters out and she looks at the man with her cool deadpan. You clear your throat, fighting the urge to reach across and shield her. Mr. Hansen smirks down at you as he glances between you and your daughter.

"Funny running into you here," he snickers, "enjoying your weekend."

"Just having lunch," you say crisply, "hope you're having a good Sunday."

You turn straight on the bench and look at Simone as you gesture for her to face you. She frowns as you try to come up with an escape plan. You don't even know what to say and he's not going anywhere.

"Oh I'm having a wonderful weekend. Look at you, how cute, this must be the spawn."

"Spawn?" Simone murmurs, "hey, what's your deal, guy?"

"Sim," you wave her off, "that's good to hear Mr. Hansen. I hate to keep you so–"

"Room for one more?" He winks.

"Ew, no," Simone speaks before you can, "mom, tell him to go away."

"She's mouthy. Not hard to guess why," he scoffs.

You slide off the seat and stand, stepping between him and the table. You arch a brow, pleading with your hands out.

"Please, sir, we're just enjoying a meal out. I'll see you tomorrow. At work."

He watches you, his amusement playing on his face. He's enjoying seeing you squirm, just like before. He always knows the most sensitive spot to hit. Your kids would be top of the list.

"Tomorrow," he winks as he leans back on his heel, "we got a special meeting, don't we?"

"Sir," you hiss.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, "alright, ladies, enjoy your lunch."

He backs up and struts away. You don't sit until he's out the door. What on earth is he even doing in a place like this? It's not exactly a Michelin star experience.

You settle back in and swallow, turning to watch out the window. He isn't in his usual suit but still dressed nicely. A peach polo peeking out under a teal bomber jacket and canary pants. Tacky if you say so yourself.

"Who was that weirdo?" Simone asks.

"My boss," you lean back, "just saying hi."

"He's strange. Like the villain in the book I was reading," she scowls out the window, "you need a new job."

You laugh despite yourself, "you have no idea. First things first, I'm starving."

🗄️

You get home, exhausted. You put away the groceries and tidy up. Of course Pete couldn't clean up after making a mess of the kitchen for a simple PB and J. You sigh as you finish and look in on the kids in the living room.

Malik colours as Simone creases her brow at her book. You hear Pete outside working on his Corvette. For a brand new car, it sure needs a lot of maintenance.

You tell the kids you'll be upstairs if they need anything. You go to the bedroom and open the closet. You're so anxious about tomorrow, you may as well get ready to face the music.

You pick out an outfit. Nothing special. You don't have anything fashionable. It's not like you need more than a striped blouse and worn black pants. You just don't want to come back up there to grab it all in the morning.

As you come downstairs, you hear Malik giggling. You peek in through the doorway with your armful of clothing. Pete sits on the floor at the coffee table beside the boy and scribbles with a crayon. He meets your eye as you pass and gives a sheepish smile. You shake your head and keep going.

You open the door to the basement and the cool air sweeps around your descent. You put the outfit on the folding table beside the camping cot. Your first few nights have been less than comfortable. As cozy as your own marriage.

You check the dryer and take out the towels, folding them on the top and stacking them there. You hear footsteps on the stairs. You keep your back to the airy space.

"Hey," Pete says. You're not surprised. He keeps trying to corner you. "So…"

"Busy," you grab a basket and set the towels in it.

"Hm," he stops only a few feet from you, "Simone said you ran into someone. Your boss."

"Yup. Nice guy," you utter dryly.

"I thought Mandy was your boss."

You roll your eyes as you lift the basket and turn, "one of many. She's up in York now."

"Ah…" he hangs his head, gripping one hip, "a lot's changed."

"I'm not in the mood to talk so let's not do this."

He huffs and steps into your path. He puts a hand on the basket. He looks you in the face.

"I will be home every day at six–"

"Too late."

"Please, can't I just try? Can't you?"

"Me? I tried, Pete," you snap, "come home at six anyway. The kids will be happy."

"What about you?"

You stare at him grimly. Your eyes tingle and you look away. Your chest rises and falls.

"I haven't been happy in a long time. Don't think I will be again," you shrug and pull the basket away, striding past him, "I didn't make you happy either, did I?"

He huffs and trails after you as you cross to the stairs. As you go to make your ascent and he grabs your arm and spins you back to him. Before you can react, he snatches the basket from your grip and places it on the stack of rubbermaid bins by the wall.

He puts his hands on your arms and pulls you against him. He leans in and you turn your head, his lips crashing into your cheek. You shove on his chest and growl.

"What are you doing?" You pinch by his ribs.

"Baby, please, let me make it up to you–"

"Don't touch me," you push on him, "get off."

"I love you. I mean it–"

"Stop!" You hit his chest again but he doesn't budge, instead wrapping his arms around you, squeezing the breath out of you. How is he still so strong when you only ever got weaker? "Pete…"

"You can't walk away–"

"You already did," you keep your voice down, mindful of the open door above.

"Let me try. I wanna make love to you–"

"Pfft, yeah right. Go get tested and I might even consider letting you hold my hand," you snarl, "get off of me now."

"Wha– I'm clean–"

"Get!" You bring your knee up and feel it collide with his crotch. He releases you and staggers back, cupping his most precious possession. "You're a dirty fucking weasel."

You turn and pick up the basket and stomp up the stairs as you hear him whimpering. Serves him right. You can't help but smile at the ounce of power you feel in that moment. 

🗄️

Monday morning both too quickly but not fast enough. You get up with the kids and get them ready for school, filling a thermos of coffee for yourself. You drive them to school and send them off with dread in your chest.

For a moment, you idle outside the school. You miss the days when you only worried about spelling quizzes and dodgeball. You hope at least your kids never end up where you are.

You follow the crawl of traffic out of the school zone and reluctantly steer towards work. You yawn and drain half your thermos before you get to the office. As you shoulder your bag and look up at the corporate facade, you feel the world threaten to crumble around you. No, not the whole world, just yours.

You enter behind a few others and try to find your courage in the elevator. You peek over at your coworkers; you recognise two but the other you don't know. There's not much workplace camaraderie, more of an understanding to get your work down and clock out.

You follow them out and go to your desk. You sit and pop the lid off of your thermos. Just enough to get you through this. You don't unpack your lunch, certain you won't be eating it there.

You turn on your PC and sign in. You're in no hurry to get started on work. Your calendar pops up with the internal schedule reminder. There it is, a meeting in ten minutes. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You get up and go to the bathroom. You can do this. You dealt with your scoundrel husband, you are still moving, you're not dead in the water.

But how do you survive this? Do you beg? You quit and take the loss? No you can't. You need this job and if you get fired, at least you'll have a hope at severance. 

You avoid your reflection. That old woman isn't you. You go out and check your watch, pausing as the shine of your rings gleam in the fluorescent light. You slide them off and put them in your back pocket. 

You check the schedule one last time and go to tbe meeting room. There's no one there as you find the door shut. It's clearly empty on the other side of the windowed walls. You lean against the plaster and tap your sole.

"Ah, there she is. How's it goin', toots? You need some chamomile? The chairs sure are comfy, aren't they?" Mr. Hansen struts down with his hands in his pockets.

"Sir," you greet flatly. He's mocking you. Jokes on him, you're always tired. 

"Come on," he twists the handle and swings the door open so that it bounces on the hinges, "get moving."

You don't react to his crass tone. You merely step into the room as the light flicks on as the censor picks up your movement. You walk along one side of the table as Hansen shuts the door.

You hover behind a chair as he goes along the wall and tugs each cord to repel the blinds down, blocking out the hallway. Uneasiness bubbles in your stomach as you watch him. You expected him to make your humiliation public.

"Have a seat, honey buns," he faces you, approaching the other side of the table.

You sit and fold your hands on the table top. He has no paperwork, not even a computer. You wonder what exactly is going on. 

"Is someone from HR–"

"Look, let's keep the sticklers outta this," he waves you off, kick one foot out as he shifts his weight to one hip, "unless you really want a disciplinary slip. Me, personally, I can't be fucked with that paperwork."

You frown and flatten your hands on the table, trying to keep your anxiety from showing. He looks at the gesture and tilts his head. His cheek dimples and he snorts.

He doesn't comment. Not at first. He paces up and down the table and bites his thumb. 

"Alright, let's get to business," he stops at the end, close to the corner, "what are you willing to do to keep this job?"

"Sir?"

"Pretty daughter you got. Probably eats up that paycheck in no time. All those cute shirts and ugh, the growth spurts–"

"Mr. Hansen," you swallow, "please, I don't think my family has anything to do with this."

"They have everything to do with this," he insists, "let's not pretend."

"I'm not– I'm sorry I fell asleep. It won't happen again."

"I gave you an out. All you had to do was put your hands down my pants and you could've napped in the boardroom. No problem. I do it all the time," he snickers, "but no, you're a stubborn little bitch. Makes me wonder what the old man sees in ya. Really, cause a tight ass ain't fun unless you get inside–"

"Mr. Hansen," you exclaim, revolted by his lewd words.

"Whatever he's doing, he's not doing it right. You need to loosen up, toots," he runs his thumb across his mustache, "and that little girl won't be so proud of mommy if she ends up working at Burger King like some stoner teenager–"

You sputter, heat creeping up the nape of your neck and speckling down your body. You shake your head. Did he know or is it a lucky guess? Either way, you don't have the energy for this. You're done being a joke for men.

"Just spit it out. What do I have to do?" You sneer as your hands ball.

His lips slant and he smothers a noise in his throat. He slowly walks closet until he's right beside you. You turn the chair to face him as he leans down and puts his hand on yours. He unfolds your fingers and feels along the indents left by your rings.

"Looks like trouble in paradise," he winks, "well, I'm the good kinda trouble. Trust me."

You stare at him. You're not as naive as you once were. There's no denial here. This is real life, a bitter pill you need to swallow.

"That's it? A hand job and I keep my job?" You squint.

He laughs and cups your chin, "oh, you think that's it?"

You can't help but let your surprise bleed through. Your not some young hot thing. Is he just trying to rub salt in the wound or is he serious?

"I…"

"Hand, mouth, cunt, ass, tits," he pulls away as he lists of each word, "you look in tact for the most part. But most importantly…" he shoots you with a finger gun, "you're desperate. What more could I ask for?"

[lou-struck]

Cheesin and Grillin

Kotaro Bokuto x reader

Prompt: 🎶+ kitchen

~After a productive afternoon, you are happy to make up some grilled cheese for two 

W.C: 2k+

A/n: this is a prompt from an old event I wanted to finish so I hope you guys enjoy!

You're not sure how it happened, but today has transformed from a leisurely day off into a hard-core cleaning day. Maybe the urge to clean everything in sight came in with the breeze that danced through your open windows, Or maybe you just felt like it because, for the first time in weeks, you have had nothing to do and a decent chunk of alone time.

It's not that your apartment is messy, but you and Bokuto have busy lives and many responsibilities. Responsibilities that take precedence over wiping down the shelves of your refrigerator and all those extra deep cleaning tasks that you aren't able to get to on an everyday basis.

A citrus-scented candle flickers in the corner of the room as you listen to your playlist over a little speaker. The flames seem to dance to the beat of your favorite songs. These songs may not be the most popular, but they are your favorite to listen to in the judgment-free moments that solitude can bring. 

Your music is rudely interrupted by the pinging of your phone over the speaker. It pings again and again and again as you are bombarded by eager, loving text messages from your boyfriend, who must be done with his volleyball practice. You weren't expecting to hear from him so soon, when he left earlier this morning, he told you that his team was having a photo shoot for their new merchandise and he wouldn't be back until later.

Hey, hey, hey!!!

Guess what babeeeee??

Photo dude bailed and now I am freeeee

Coming home now!

Let's eat lunch together!!!

You snort as you read his string of messages. If they were sent by anyone else, you're sure that all of that information would be in one text. But not Bokuto. He wears his heart on his sleeve and sends his texts as soon as they enter his head. It's great that the two of you get to have a spontaneous lunch, but you can't help but feel a bit worried. Your boyfriend has an incredible appetite and will definitely need to eat something filling to fuel him after his intense practice session.

Making a meal for one is one thing; when you're cooking by yourself, it's easy to just get by taking handfuls of whatever sounds good. But lunch for two people requires cooking; it requires ingredients.

Ingredients that you might not have. These past few weeks have been so busy that neither of you has been able to go to the grocery store.

The linoleum floors of your kitchen have never looked shinier as you leap over the remaining streaks of water the mop has left behind to get to the now sparkling refrigerator.

Flinging open the door, you admire your handiwork. There is not a streak of stray condiments or puddles from a leaky takeout box in sight. Save for a few groceries, it looks almost completely empty. 

Just as your stomach begins to rumble…

I guess Kotaro isn't the only one who's hungry.

You stare blankly into the fridge, enjoying the sensation of cold, lemon-scented air on your warm skin. Aside from a few condiments, there isn't much food to choose from, but what catches your eye is a block of cheese and the last half of the sourdough loaf your coworker made for you. 

"Grilled cheese?" you say aloud, reaching for the two components. The idea makes you suddenly remember that you have a can of tomato soup in the pantry that you can heat up to make the meal more satisfying. 

The bread is beautiful; its crust is a rich golden brown, and the inside looks like lace. You have no idea what your friend did to make such a perfect loaf of bread, but you know how heavenly it will taste once you toss it in a pan with some cheese.

With your fav on the way home, there is no time to lose. You remove a cutting board and pan from the drying rack and get to work. You set the pan on the stove and crank the burner to low as you begin slicing up your bread and cheese, making sure to nibble on a few of the not-so-perfect slices of cheddar goodness as a reward for all your hard work.

As the pan's temperature slowly climbs, you smear one side of the freshly sliced bread with some overpriced artisanal garlic butter that Kotaro bought last week for its cool packaging.

As soon as you assemble your sandwich ingredients and place them on the pan with a light sizzle, Your boyfriend bursts through the door like a happy hurricane. 

"Something smells good in here, and it sure isn't me," he exclaims, smelling the masterpiece you have been creating.

His wild golden gaze scans you as he haphazardly tosses his gym bag on the floor. When he sees you, His smile is instant as he runs towards you and scoops you up with ease, peppering your face with kisses. "Ahhhh y/n! I missed you so much." He cries dramatically, his voice slightly panting from his barrage of kisses. "I feel like I haven't gotten to talk to you in forever."

"I missed you too, Bo," you say, leaning in and giving him a light kiss of your own. "But I'm glad you were able to come home early today."

"Right? Me too. The minute they told us we could go, I was out the door." His eyes are fixated on the pan as he picks off a piece of frying cheese with his fingers as he continues, "I almost ran over Omi with my car when I was pulling out of the parking lot because I was so excited, we never get to have lunch together like this so I am super excited."

"And was he mad?" you ask, watching him unbothered toss the fried cheese into his mouth with his usual unfaltering smile.

"I don't know, I was too excited to see you." if this man had a tail, it would be wagging up a storm right now. Suddenly, you both notice that a new song is playing through the speaker. 

"Hey hey hey! this is that song you like, right ?" He asks with a grin. He sets you back on your own two feet and reaches a muscular arm over to the window ledge to crank up the speaker's volume as loud as it can go. 

Grabs both of your hands. "Come on, babe, let's go crazy."

His energy is infectious, and you find yourself dancing along with him and belting out the words. You're not surprised that he took the time to learn every word to your favorite song, that's just the kind of man he is. He knows that when you care about something, He wants to care about it, too.

He spends on the beat, grabs a spatula off the counter, and starts singing into it like it's a microphone. When you're with him, it's easy to get swept up in his carefree silliness, and soon, the two of you are screaming along to the music like the fools in love you are.

Everything is perfect.

Until…

The chalky scent of smoke floats under your nose. And the spell is broken, your microphone is once again a spatula and the grilled cheeses you were making are smoking. Your eyes shoot open in a panic as you look across the kitchen at the pan you had left unattended. You rush over to the sandwich halves and flip them over in hopes of salvaging something edible.

But your efforts are in vain, the grilled cheeses are absolutely charred, inedible. Not even Bokuto would eat this mouthful of ash.

The smoke alarm, just your boyfriend's spiky black and white head, blares loudly/a painful noise, causing him to cry out in pain as he raises his large palms to his ears. 

Damn it. All you wanted to do was make some grilled cheese, and now your kitchen is hazy with smoke, and the alarm is so loud you cannot hear yourself think. 

"Don't worry, babe, I got it." He yells, sensing your distress. The athlete rushes around your apartment opening windows and turning on fans to try and clear out the smoke. But when the alarm continues to go off, he grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head.

He swings the garment rapidly above his head like a helicopter, and you can't help but admire his well-built physique; he's not just strong; all those hours in the gym have him looking like he was just carved out of marble. Although you have seen him shirtless countless times, the beautiful sight never fails to bring a flustered heat to your skin.

You are so focused on the extroverted artwork in front of you that you don't even realize that the smoke alarm has long since quieted. 

"Hey hey hey, it looks like someone likes what they see." he laughs, suggestively wiggling his thick eyebrows at you. He flexes just a tad more just to tease you before putting his shirt back on.

With that wonderful distraction taken care of, you returned to your task at hand. Disposing of the lumps of charcoal that were supposed to be grilled cheese sandwiches. Your face falls as you look at your ruined lunch, unable to look at the monstrosity any longer; you pick up the still steaming pan and walk it over to the disposal, a heartbroken expression on your face as you mourn the loss of the bread. Maybe one day, your pal will make you another loaf, but at this point, do you deserve it? 

"Wait," Kotaro says, suddenly holding out his hands. He is looking at you with the same expression he makes when his team manager pulls him away from signing autographs for starry-eyed children. "Don't look so sad y/n, I don't want your hard work to go to waste. I'll still eat it." 

He reaches his hand to the skillet, ready to pretty much eat ash to make you happy, but you laugh and dispose of the 'sandwiches' before he attempts to poison himself.

"You're so sweet, Kou, but these sandwiches are ruined, and there's not much else in the fridge." you frown as you try to think of a backup plan. There's an overpriced market on the corner, you could run down there and just grab something for you two to eat and then go to your usual grocery store after?

But there is something so disheartening about going to the store twice in one day, it seems like a waste of a trip.

Although he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, your boyfriend's eyes light up. "I have an Idea, come with me." He bounds over to you eagerly and tosses you over his shoulder. ""I'm gonna take you out on a lunch date and then we can spend the rest of the day doing whatever you want." He is so excited about getting to spend the day with you he starts toward the door without keys, wallet, phone, shoes, or anything else that you need to leave the house.

"Wait, Kotaro. Let me down for a second," you squeal, a gleeful smile on your face. "I need to put on my shoes first if we are gonna go anywhere."

"Oh, right." he chuckles, setting you down gently. "Sorry, I guess I was getting ahead of myself again; it's easy to get carried away when I am carrying you."

You chuckle at his cheesy declaration as you lace up your shoes. Today's errand date will probably be anything but ordinary, but with Bokuto, you find yourself embracing the good-natured chaos that seems to follow him everywhere with the same love that you have for the rest of him.

Tagging: @sleepyyshroom, @isaacdaknight

[atomizerjunkie]

the outsiders AU i thought of last night while playing minecraft ❤️ (+ art to go with it! MINOR BLOOD WARNING & animal death—very sorry)

so basically, i use a johnny cade skin in minecraft and got bored so i started killing everything in sight. right, simple enough, but then i saw this little black rabbit, so i chased it down and happened to corner it. i used an axe to kill it and when i did i got this fucking EPIPHANY a goddamn VISION and dropped everything to write this down

johnny cade except when he killed bob, he found out he liked killing things & decides to be a little shit and go do it some more

this is EXTREMELY ooc, but like… he still ACTS like johnny while doing all this.. so is it really occ?

ponyboy (bless his heart, but i don’t think about him much, so his significance in this AU doesn’t really exist) is scared of him 💔 but then again they all are (except dally, i’ll elaborate later) but he still cares for johnny and is like “well, at least it’s just animals!” until it isn’t JUST animals…. then he’s like “well, at least it’s not us!” (but he still doesn’t like all the killing and tries to help johnny STOP KILLING SHIT)

johnny goes to dally to tell him about his horrible urges first since he doesn’t want to scare off ponyboy because he can figure it all out, and dally helps him ❤️ (technically not jally okay, just them being them. but if you do want to see it as jally/grilled cheese—like how i do!!—then go ahead)

dally has a really hard time accepting that this is the way johnny is now, but he’s still supporting him because he cares a lot and knows he’ll probably be johnny’s only way of support at all

dally ALSO has to keep him out of trouble with the law since he’s starting to want to kill PEOPLE 💔 save my boy dally /j

johnny will come to him in the middle of the night covered in blood and be like “dal… i made a mess 🧍‍♂️” and dally just stares at him like

two-bit once caught him in the lot maiming an animal and was like “WOAH! whatcha got there, johnny? 😅”

and johnny just said “keith if you run your fucking mouth about this i will slit your throat open”

which obviously, since he CARES about two-bit and the gang, he would never do since he wouldn’t hurt them

but still, two-bit did NOT run his fucking mouth about that since how was he supposed to know it was just an empty threat?

besides two-bit, no one else in the gang knows about all of.. this (thankfully)

anyway, silly johnny keeps killing shit and dally has to be there to clean it up and keep him mostly in check (but between you and me, he partially enjoys all the craziness that johnny gets him into. it’s refreshing to get this kind of experience with him so often, but still stressful since johnny keeps stumbling over to him drenched in blood)

OKAY ANYWAY au doodles 🫶🫶

eugh disgusting emo boy

and a little comic strip thing i made

okay that’s all byebye

[em0puppy]

i really don't normally do these things but i've been starting to feel just a teensy bit guilty about not being the sappy type lol and i got this urge at 1 am this morning while in a coffee-driven all-nighter and decided fuck it (this is a repeating factor in decisions i make. send help.)

so here's a small lil list of amazing people i'm genuinely overjoyed to be friends or even just moots with <3

yes im copying brookie bite me /silly

stuff under cut cuz this is gonna be long lol

@mischiefburns - my darling husband first of course !! <3 half joking marriage aside i'd say you're one of my closest friends - even if we've only known each other for just a few months. you're just the right amount of gentle and still know when to put your foot (er, claw-bug-thing) down, and i admire that about you. you know when to stop when boundaries are set up and to not push those, and you're not afraid to enforce your own, something i constantly fail to do (• ▽ •;) i love how open you are about yourself and how caring you care <3 ilysm !! mmmmwah :3 (im trying to get better at regretevator i promise)

@bluginkgo - first things first if you disagree with anything here i will punt you. (/silly /hj) you're so endearing, and your little emoticons never fail to make me smile. the message you sent me the other week really helped a lot, and your reaction spamming when i post art really does help with my motivation !! you're one of the most wholesome people i've ever met, and when your discord pfp changes to your sona with a bandaged leg i get worried for you. i love seeing your discussions in the nuzi server or your art popping up on my dash because HOLY SHIT YOU'RE GIFTED I TELL YOU !!!! like your nuzi fankid exploded my final 0.3 braincells i have left in the absolute best way but i'll save that speech for another time <3

@noridoorman - HIIIII MOM >:3 (i hope this tag is ok!! lmk if it's not <3) you're literally the second person i thought of when writing the idea down for this fhsfeesfigr. i love hanging out with you in VC and watching your stream or you drawing or listening to you and doomed voice ace attorney and you threatening to throw certain people (brookie and blu specifically) out windows or grab them by the scruff is literally the highlight of my day and never fails to make me laugh. you're so kind and funny and i'm sorry i can't share your love of k-pop 😔 (/silly) TRYING TO CATCH UP ON CINNAMON SCENT TOO BUT THE ADHD IS LIKE NUH UH </33

@brookiedaaroacecookie - im claiming you and miko as my siblings we can be triplets (/hj /nf) BUT SERIOUSLY THO i view you as my younger sibling and i love hanging out with you <3 you officiating mischief and mine's (GRR OFC IT WAS REAL /silly) wedding will forever be a memory i'll keep and tell to my grandkids in sixty something years or something like that idfk. i still have your little tag thing screenshotted and i'm sorry i can't tell the difference between french toast and grilled cheese </3 (/silly) also whats keats and why do you always laugh at it or was that an autocorrect thing /silly but also /gq

@spinnydraws - DFUHERFGRGIE I KNOW WE'VE ONLY BEEN MOOTS FOR LIKE. A WEEK AND A HALF OR SOMETHING IDK. BUT. HEAR ME OUT. already i view you as a friend and i'm extremely grateful to be moots with you! you're extremely funny and kind, and when you like or reblog my art i ascend to heaven. everytime i see your art i explode all over again even if i've already exploded not five minutes ago. AND WHY ARE YOU LITERALLY SO N. LITERALLY. WAHT. (/vpos) BUT LIKE. honestly you're a big comfort of mine already (i have a problem of wanting to be besties with literally every n kinnie out there. uzi kintype noises.) and i'd love to get to know you more !! <3

@nuzilicious - i refuse to give up trying to make you undislike me. until then all u get is ur awesome and im extremely thankful u havent blocked and banned me!!!!!! /silly /j

@uzibrainrot - omg what do i even say. you're so wholesome and so goofy and i loved roleplaying md with you on roblox even if it was just for a bit and if you wanna do it again sometime i'd absolutely love to!!!! i know we don't interact much but when we do it's awesome !! i promise the art trade is almost done i promise promise promise shhdshjdshfh. ALSO WHEN YOU WANNA WORK ON THAT VOLL CRACKFIC TOGETHER LMK!!! :DDD!!

i would @ andy but idk his tumblr so um. andy if you see this, you're not only one of the kindest most woke and most funny beings on this planet (i've never seen a cishet guy do a colon three it's literally so funny HELP /lhj /gen), but also a mind-blowingly awesome mc player !! :DD

ok i must disappear into the void to take care of my cramps (ew) so im gonna die now but ily all sm and hope you're all doing MORE than great !!! :DD!!!!! (/p /gen) explodes and dies in the grand canyon. or something. idk i need to stop exploding.

[satureja13]

Outtakes

When we moved to the Castle, Vlad was there too! Without his shirt o.o and even though he was not part of the household. I guess he was worried if Ji Ho was ok. But Ji ho reassured him. And that they will paint a picture of love when this is over(?) (or whatever that bubble in the pic above means ^^')

Vlad said that Ji Ho shall not worry about him. He'll be fine with whatever helps Ji Ho to heal so that he isn't sad anymore. It's breaking Vlad's heart when it's raining because that means that Ji Ho is sad ( -> mermaids and their weather changing ability).

Noxee and Caleb are eager to continue with the therapy and urge Vlad to leave so that they can move on with Princess Jihovere (and to get out of the rain!).

Caleb: "Have you ever noticed that the Princess' haircolour has the colour of grilled cheese?" Vlad thinks Ji Ho looks delicious despite of his hair colour. And Ji Ho knows it! hahaha

And then the Queen told Princess Jihovere that, as a royal, she has to use the toilet sitting. But the Princess replied that she does that anyway :3

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 7: You Saw Me for How I Really Was

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: It's everything you ever wanted but wouldn't wish for.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Explicit 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, breast play, grinding, oral sex (f and m receiving), rimming (f receiving), fingering, squirting, dirty talk, unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool, even if you're an android and can't get people pregnant).

Notes: IT'S TIME. Jack and Sugar finally deserve to get exactly what they want. And with one chapter left plus an epilogue, they've got just enough time to enjoy themselves. I kept pushing out the smut because they had so much to talk about, but we know they were gonna fall back into bed eventually. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

Returning to Jack’s ranch is comfortably quiet, the kiss still tingling on your lips as Jack and Jet keep pace with you and Daybreak. The sun is beginning to drift toward the horizon, and your stomach is growling even as you beg it to quiet down. Jack’s knowing smile heats your cheeks as you clop into the stables, beginning the ingrained process of stabling the horses. Each pass of the brushes and combs brings you closer to Jack’s hands, his embrace, his body close to yours again. The anticipation finally feels like excitement for the first time since you arrived, heart fluttering when he catches your eye or you glimpse a sliver of his profile. Strong arms massaging Jet’s shoulders, lifting the saddle and pulling the gate shut. The sway of his trim hips sauntering over to you. His worn fingers threading between yours as he leads you to the house hand in hand. 

“So I was thinking I’d make some dinner for us, if you’d like to stay,” Jack says cautiously, his touch delicate. You hadn’t even been considering going back to the bed and breakfast, but Jack’s deference to your comfort glows in your chest.

“Yeah, I’d like to stay,” you answer, and the crinkle of his eyes paired with him fighting back a smile urges you to walk closer. Shoulder to shoulder, you enter his home. Russell bounces at your heels as Jack leads you back to the kitchen where you bared your souls. “Can I help with the cooking?” 

Jack opens the fridge, taking out some ingredients. “I suppose if I say no I’ll catch you doing it anyway?” You give him a wink that makes you feel like a teenager, giddy at the faux sigh and head shake he returns. “Fine, I’m putting you in charge of vegetables and nothing else or Russ will give me hell for making the lady work.” Russell yips in agreement.

Jack fires up the grill outside the back door, leaving you to slice tomatoes and lettuce as Russell supervises. You toss him a bit of scrap, which he spits back out and looks forlorn over. Trading it for a piece of cheese gets you back in his good graces. The mouthwatering aroma of meat cooking pulls you to the open door, Russell joining his guardian in front of the grill.

Would you ever tire of ogling this man? He’s tied a blue apron over his button-up, a spatula in hand. The golden light accentuates his coffee eyes, the shine of his dark hair, the concentration in his brow as he flips burgers. When he shifts on his feet he pops one hip out, rounding his tiny bottom just a little more in his jeans. If hunger wasn’t so pressing you’d tear the apron off him and sink to your knees. Or wrap your arms around him while diving a hand into his pants. Maybe bend over to expose your aching…

You shake away the runaway train of your libido, awake and screaming after such a long hibernation. Everything is still so fragile, your steps mincing up to what that kiss lead to after the meal concludes.

The burgers are consumed messily and jubilantly at the kitchen table, juice dripping down your fingers and the delightful grease cut through with sharp pickle brine and cold iced tea. Russell gets his own smaller patty, clearly spoiled rotten by Jack with the way he prances for it. Jack’s eyes meet yours between the quips and banter that flows easily, his eyes still hungry in a way no meal will sate. When he slips his fingers into his mouth to lick up errant juices, you forcibly drag your gaze down. 

With dinner finished, Jack waves you off from dish duty. 

“Go take a look around, my hospitality will not allow you to also clean up.” 

Rolling your eyes you do as you’re told, touring his modest ranch with meandering steps. On closer inspection you find new delights amongst his possessions. A modern music player, a quick browse through revealing a lot of Hank Williams and George Strait. Repair manuals for what seem to be large harvesters, dog-eared and well read. A distinct lack of photos. 

Venturing further into the house, you find a neat guest bath and an open door leading to an office. A second door is shut, and your instinct tells you it’s the bedroom. While you could be bold and enter, you turn and head back to the kitchen. The water turns off, and as you round the corner back to the hallway you see it.

The third door.

It wouldn’t have stood out to you, tucked away past the bedrooms, except for the massive padlock keeping it shut. It shouldn’t bother you - Jack is allowed secrets, especially after all you know of him - but this piques your curiosity enough to step closer. From a distance you think it takes a key, but upon closer inspection you discover a subtle biometric scanner.

“Thought you might find that,” Jack says behind your shoulder, startling you about six feet out of your skin.

“I wasn’t…” you start to protest, but Jack just rubs your arm and reaches past. A press of his thumb and the lock opens, Jack making quick work of removing it and opening the door. 

“I don’t have any secrets with you, Sugar,” he says, taking your hand. His are softer now, warm from the dishwater. “If you want to know what’s in the basement, I’ll take you.”

“What is it?” you ask, clasping Jack’s hand tighter. It’s remarkable how perfectly it fits in yours. How long you’ve waited to hold it.

“Something that took a long time to put together.”

Jack leads you down into the basement, another door with another lock at the bottom. This one has a retinal scanner, hissing open when pushed. The light is cool blue, starkly different from the warm sunlight waiting for you upstairs. Your stomach twists with nerves, but you still follow. 

A few steps inside the basement reveals white tile walls and a smooth concrete floor. In the center of the room is a box, a large rectangle with a hinge on the side. You try not to compare it to a coffin. Against the wall are computer screens, silver canisters, what looks like a 3D printer encased in glass. The only noise is the constant quiet hiss of atmosphere controls and the shuffle of Jack’s feet. You tuck into your body as if your presence could jeopardize the room. He leans on one leg and chews his lower lip before speaking.

“When I left, I had a few things with me. Field repair kit, basically. But if I wanted to stay here on my own, I needed more. After I bought the place and got this room ready, I…well, you’d probably call it ‘hacking,’ but I used the mesh network to poke around in Delos’ shipping sector. Make a few crates go missing, delivered to a desert two states over. Some things didn’t make it, so I have to be careful, but all this…” He gestures to the room around you. “This is what I’m made of.”

You slowly pace the room, silently taking in the scene that’s more like the world you came from. Sterile, cool, emotionless technology. When you get close to the wall-mounted screens they hum to life, and one by one glowing cobalt text fills your vision. Progress meters, percentages ticking up and down. Lines of code that don’t make sense, but when the central screen displays a Vitruvian-esque man’s outline, it becomes clear.

“This is you,” whispers out from your slack lips, roaming over the subtly moving parts that make up the whole of Jack’s being. His heart monitor is thumping hard, vibrant red amongst the rest of his anatomy. 

“Yeah, this is all of it. All of me.” Jack stops, though you can feel the weight of the words he doesn’t say.

You can have it.

Turning back to face him, his eyes are pleading for you to understand, to not be terrified by the underground world that keeps him here with you. But instead of the manic need to run, peace finally winds through your chest like a lazy stream. You smile, and Jack’s relief brings him closer step by step.

“You did this all by yourself,” you say, both of Jack’s hands stroking up your arms as he steps into your orbit.

“It was worth it,” he murmurs, thumb worrying at your sleeve. It aches, knowing how alone you both were, knowing that he waited so long with all these feelings still burning in the heart you can so easily see on that screen.

“I’m sorry, I’ve spent the last two days interrogating you,” you laugh, smoothing your hand over his chest. Solid muscle warms your palm, his proximity tingling down your spine. “You said you had questions for me too, but I don’t think I’ve answered any of them. You deserve some answers too.”

Jack chuckles, pressing one hand to your lower back and surrounding you once again.

“Only what you’re willing to share with me, Sugar,” he says, and fuck, he means it. He’s given you every secret but he’d let you keep yours.

“Anything, Jack.”

He sucks in a breath, tongue swiftly wetting his lower lip.

“You never married him?”

“No.”

“Never found someone else?”

You’d never even considered finding someone during that year.

“No.”

“You were happy?”

Your breath hitches, Jack’s hands soothing up your back.

“I was happier, yeah. I told myself it would only get better, but…I was also lonely.”

Jack nods. “Me too.”

He struggles then, jaw working and false starting a couple times before he finally asks.

“Why did you show me the photograph?”

The maelstrom of emotions that hits you wells in your eyes. He’s holding you so close to how he did that day, albeit in a room that pales his skin and deepens his eye sockets. It’s your turn to struggle now, throat clenching.

“I thought you were going to tell me you loved me,” you half-sob, taking in a shaky breath as his eyebrows raise. “I thought it was part of the park, and it would have killed me to hear you say it when I felt…” 

Jack cups your cheek, letting you lean into the touch.

“I was gonna tell you it was real, Sugar. That I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but I was no longer a host and this place was no longer my home. I guess it’s good I didn’t, would’ve scared you right off.” You share a wet chuckle as your tears subside, letting Jack’s body soothe you. 

“But…” he interjects, eyes lifting back to his face. “If you had accepted that, somehow, crazy as it would have been, I would have also told you that I loved you.” 

Your mouth drops open, wonder spreading down your shoulders. 

“Because I loved you from my first breath as Jack. I’ve loved you every day since. Not because of Maeve, or Delos. I love you, and none of it is programming.”

For a long moment you just look at each other in awe before Jack’s face closes off sharply, tucking his chin down.

“I don’t expect anything, this has all been a lot…”

“I love you too.”

Jack’s eyes dart back to your face, his own stunned expression painting his gorgeous profile. 

“You don’t…”

But you wind your arms around his neck and let the peace melting through your body pass on to his. It’s as easy as breathing, as a kiss, as letting yourself stop running from the happiest you’ve ever been.

“I’ll say it. Every day. I love you, Jack.” 

Then you weave your fingers into his hair and ease his lips to yours. The kiss starts soft, Jack’s movements sluggish as he pulls you into his body. Then he takes in a sharp breath and devours you, teeth hard against your lips and tongue darting into your mouth to taste everything you’ll give him. His embrace is close to bruising, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t press every inch of your body into his. Your knees buckle briefly, which urges him to finally break the kiss and pant against your cheek.

“Sugar, I want to take you to bed and make love to you as many times as you’ll let me,” he growls in your ear, arousal nearly unbearable in your core.

“I hope you’ve got stamina enough for that, cowboy,” you shoot back, meaning it to be a sexy tease but more of it coming out as a breathless quip. He nips at your lower lip before untangling and leading you by the hand up and out of the basement. At the slam of the top door Russell bounds out of the living room, tail wagging and eyes bright. Jack curses quietly under his breath while kneeling to grab something out of a box under a sideboard. 

“Russell, man to man, do not come scratching for at least four hours,” he says sternly before presenting the pup with a handsomely large bone. He takes it and skips off to the living room. 

“Bribery, huh?” you tease as he lifts to his full height, but before you can say anything else his mouth is on yours and he’s backing you up against the closed bedroom door. 

“Darlin’, I would let the horses in the house to get you all to myself,” he says against your smile, fiddling with the knob to back you into his bedroom. The door shuts quickly behind to prevent an audience.

You barely get a chance to look at the room - two dressers, lamps, door to an ensuite bathroom - before Jack leads you backwards until your calves bump the bed. He’s dancing his lips over your neck, hands kneading at your hips.

“Tell me you want this, sweetheart,” he begs prettily, and your eyes roll up as he sucks a mark above your collarbone. Every part of you burns for him, clutching at his shirt, his shoulders, the soft strands of his hair. 

“Yes, Jack, please. I want you,” you husk, and he sighs into your skin. Thick fingers work under your top, sliding his hands up your sides and bringing the cloth with it. He tosses it on the floor somewhere behind him, wide palms supporting your back as he leans down to lick along the cup of your bra. The cool kiss of air on the wet trail pebbles your nipples.

“God, you taste good Sugar,” Jack moans while sucking another kiss into your shoulder. Your fingers find his buttons, sliding them out one by one to expose the smooth breadth of Jack’s chest. He blazes under your knuckles, muscles clenching as you ride the hills and valleys of his body to tug his shirttails out. 

“I recall you said I was the sweetest thing you ever tasted,” you tease, sliding your hand down to palm his cock through his straining jeans. He’s bigger than you remember, which was not insignificant. He’ll have to take his time, get you ready for him. Your cunt clenches at the thought.

“Damn right. I can’t wait to taste every part of you, sweetheart.” Jack tucks a knee between your thighs and wraps an arm around your waist. You’re suddenly off-balance as he leans you back, kneeling as he lays you out on the bed. His thick thigh remains between your legs, and you grind on it wantonly. “God, look at you, needy pussy on my thigh. Go ahead, baby, get yourself hot and ready.” He shucks off his shirt as you roll your hips up his thigh, denim catching on your clit and wedging your underwear between your slick folds. It’s tantalizing, Jack’s hands coming down to thumb open your pants button and slide down your zip. Gripping your hips, he guides you against him, lips parted and panting as his hair falls in his eyes.

“Beautiful, you’re so goddamn beautiful,” he praises before pulling back. You whine at the loss while lifting your hips to let him peel off your pants, underwear going with them to leave you in just your bra on the thick quilt below. Jack returns to lean over you, stealing another toe-curling kiss while he thumbs your nipples.

“Can I taste you, Sugar? Get you cumming around my tongue?” 

“Fuck, oh fuck, Jack, please.”

Hooking his arms under your knees, he slides you up the bed before dropping to his elbows, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound. Every anxiety has fled, leaving only a crackling need as he drags his nose up your inner thigh, a light lick up your slit barely parting your lips. Thighs trembling, you try rocking your hips against his tongue but he presses you back into the bed, following his own path as he meanders up and down your thighs. You hope he can see your pussy fluttering, how much arousal is gathering from his light touches. Finally he pulls your lips open with his thumbs and licks a wet stripe over your clit.

Your reaction is instant. Back bowing off the bed, thighs clenching over his shoulders, fingers twisting the quilt. Jack’s eyes rake up your body, a self-satisfied chuckle vibrating against your clit begging for more more more.

“You’ve waited so long for this, sweetheart. I’m going to make it worth it,” he promises before sliding his tongue back into your pussy. Undulating it against your needy clit tears a gasp from your throat, whines held behind your teeth. Jack’s hands splay over your thighs, digging in to keep you open and flush against his greedy mouth. Every lap of his tongue is wet, filthy, indulgent. You struggle for coherence, babbles of “so good” and “please, Jack” and “fuck fuck fuuuuuuck” all you can manage. Jack doesn’t seem to mind, mouth too busy to keep up a conversation. Instead he seals his lips around your clit and rhythmically sucks while teasing a finger at your entrance. The pressure, the pattern of his lips pulling you to the precipice of your orgasm, drives your fingers into his hair to pull him against your cunt. 

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, teeth grazing your clit before he flicks his tongue and buries one long finger inside you. The glint of hunger in his eyes explodes in your spine as you shatter on the rocks of your pleasure. Even as you buck against him he rides you to the end, draining every last drop of your orgasm onto his tongue. Spots dance in your vision, jellied bones leaving you helpless on your back as you try to catch your breath.

Just as you’re about to sit up and reach for him, another finger slides into your tight cunt and Jack blows a cool kiss of air against your sensitive clit. You shoot up with a strangled gasp, pulling Jack’s face back. His eyes are hazy pools, lips and mustache wet with you. A filthy smile dances on his lips, baring his long neck and scraping his teeth along your inner thigh.

“I’m not done here just yet,” he purrs, guiding your hand out of his hair and against his mouth. Pressing a kiss to your palm, he weaves your fingers between his and dips his face back to lap at your folds, curling into something devastating inside you.

“Fuck, Jack, I can’t…” you groan, but he shakes his head, bristly mustache scraping over your sex as he chuckles.

“Yes you can, Sugar, and you will,” he promises darkly, and before you can protest he’s rolling you onto your stomach and lifting your hips. Your cunt gapes at the loss, but he quickly slides his fingers back. His wandering lips graze along your ass before flitting his tongue against your other hole. You jerk, a sudden wave of shameful arousal both backing you up against him and jerking away. He bands his arm around your thighs and spits, the hot saliva sliding down to wet his knuckles. “I want to have you every way I can, sweetheart. Make you feel pleasure you’ve never felt before. I want to make you cum from things you never imagined.” With that he firmly licks over your asshole, long heavy strokes that match the pace of his fingers inside you. 

The oversensitivity passes until you’re aching, full of him and dripping over his hand. His appetite makes your face burn, but it feels too good to stop. Snaking a hand down, you swirl over your clit and stroke Jack’s strong fingers inside you.

“Oh fuck Sugar, is that you? You’re touching yourself? Don’t stop beautiful, I’m gonna have you wailing for me soon.” The intense stretch of his third finger sliding in stutters your hand, planting both on the bed so you can push back against his overwhelming devotions. He snarls, pounding his fingers into you and swatting at your jiggling ass.

“That’s it, baby, you get ready for my cock. I can’t wait to feel this perfect pussy around me. C’mon, that’s it, that’s my gorgeous girl.” Your eyes shut, body lost to Jack all around you as he curls and drags his fingertips against a spot inside that threatens to overtake you. With a yank your feet touch the floor, bent over the bed with Jack folded over you, pressing into that spot over and over again.

“Give it to me, Sugar, I want you all over me,” he whispers, and your mind barely grasps what he means before your orgasm grips you hard and unforgiving, gasping and wailing as wetness drips down your legs. Jack tucks you against his hot skin, cupping your mound and pressing his cock against your ass as he talks you through it, “Gorgeous girl covering me in your cum, you’re so fucking hot, so pretty cumming for me. Does that feel good? Breathe baby, you did so good, you came so good for me.”

“Jack, holy shit,” you finally manage to squeak out. He backs up from you, wiping fabric down your legs and briefly over your sensitive core before letting you sit on the bed.

What you turn to see almost knocks you out for a whole different reason. Jack stands with one hip cocked, his heather gray button-up damp with your release. It’s not the only thing soaked; his jeans, open and slung low on his hips, are dark with liquid, droplets clinging to the curls of his pubic hair. You can just barely peek the head of his cock breaching the vee of his zipper, face flushed a boyish pink as he cards his fingers through his mussed hair. 

“Oh my god, you’re…I did…” you stammer, heat blazing in your cheeks. Jack laughs, tossing his shirt to the side and running his fingers over his stomach. The shine of wetness comes away on his fingers, and he licks them delicately. You’re sure you’ll ignite any second, but he only hums in appreciation.

“Just like all of you, Sugar, oh so sweet,” he drawls. “Give me two minutes to brush my teeth and think about baseball and I’ll be back,” he adds, swaggering into the ensuite. You bury your hands in your face and take a few breaths, but they’re mostly to bring you back from your out of body experience. Realizing your bra is still on, you quickly unclasp and toss it with the other clothing, climbing up the bed and kneeling. From here you can see Jack’s back ripple as he leans down to rinse his mouth, the warmth in his eyes when he catches you in the mirror. Turning he leans in the doorframe, looking you up and down shamelessly.

“Never seen anything more gorgeous in my entire life,” he says, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and tugging his jeans down. Stepping out of them, he comes to the side of the bed and strokes up your thigh to your lower back, tugging you close to kiss you. His mouth is cool and minty, a balm to your overheated skin, as he cups your head and lets your tongues touch in playful sweeps. Skin against skin makes you melt into Jack’s body, breasts pressed against his chest while he strokes over the span of your shoulders, the curve of your back, squeezing your perfect ass. 

Breaking the kiss, you brush your noses together.

“I’d like to ride you, cowboy,” you ask, his cheeks flushing as you nip at his chin. He chases your mouth for another kiss, letting you pull his tongue between your teeth with a stifled groan.

“I’d like that, Sugar, love to watch you on my lap,” he husks into your ear, climbing into the bed beside you. He arranges himself, propped up in the pillows and lightly stroking his cock from base to tip. Kneeling next to him, you place a kiss on his shoulder, the center of his peck, the soft rounding of his belly. His fingers still at the base as you lean over and lick the head of his cock, the musky taste making you salivate. With no warning you wrap your lips around the head, his moan spiking arousal in your cunt. You slide down his shaft, swiping your tongue along the underside and flicking around the ridge. Jack’s thighs clench, choked-back curses sizzling off your back. It isn’t until you slide to the base, relaxing your jaw and tracing the tip of your tongue along his fingers that Jack urges you off him. He replaces his cock with his lips, ravenous as your teeth clack and he pulls you onto his lap.

“Almost blew it before getting inside you, baby, you’re too good at that,” he gasps, slowing down to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“Need me to slow down?” you ask, his head shaking in response. You stroke your fingers through his hair, pressing your cheek against his head as he wraps his arms around you. His cock slips through your folds as you rock against him, tilting your hips to catch him just at your entrance. You hold his head between your hands and pull him back enough to watch as you take just his head inside. His eyes roll back, threaten to close but he forces them open, mesmerized by the way your chest heaves, lips parted, eyes hooded as you work his cock inside you. When you throw your head back he fits his lips against your neck, leaving wet trails as he takes your nipple into his mouth. The zing of pleasure from his flicking tongue, the other nipple rolled between his fingers, urges you to sink down to the base. He releases your breast with a pop, foreheads coming together as you sit full of him. 

“Jack,” you finally say breathlessly. He hums, turning his head up to drag his lips along your jaw. “Probably a bad time to ask, but…you can’t get me pregnant, right?”

Jack snorts into the junction of your shoulder, nails scratching lightly down your back.

“Very insightful. No, I am proverbially shooting blanks.”

You let the amusement of the moment simmer down, his tongue tracing shapes below your ear, before speaking again.

“Then I want you to cum in me, Jack. I want to feel you inside me.”

Jack’s grip tightens, his thighs clenching underneath you. 

“Fuck, Sugar, I want that. Want to fill you with my seed, watch it drip out of you.” You lift up on your knees, his cock sliding through your tight pussy, before sinking back down firmly.

“Fill me up, Jack.”

Jack’s pained groan spurs you to ride him properly, your hands braced on the headboard behind him. He looks up at you like a deity, worshiping you with his work-worn hands. His thighs are slick with your arousal and sweat, making the glide even more sensual. You roll your hips to feel every ridge and vein of him inside, helpless whines slipping out when he circles your clit just right or scrapes his teeth along your nipples. 

“Darlin’, you tell me when you’re close and I’ll get you over the edge. I want to be the one making you cum, sweetheart, please let me make you cum,” he begs into your shoulder. You weren’t even sure if you had a third one in you, but every slip of his lips on your skin makes electricity crackle inside. 

“I’m close, Jack, I want you, I want you,” you babble. Jack tilts you forward, planting his feet and fucking up into you from below. He pulls you down against the force of his thrusts, the sticky slap pulling one long moan from your lips. It’s right there, just out of reach, when Jack flips you to your back, yanking your legs over his shoulders. Your eyes widen, fisting the blanket around your head, but then Jack presses your thighs to your stomach and mounts you, drilling down and…

“Oh fuck, Jack, fuck, right there, rightthererightthereright…” Your begging is lost to the scream you barely recognize as your own as Jack fucks an orgasm into your cunt, teeth gritted and lip snarled as he harshly pants above you. Your pussy clamps down and he follows with a bellow, watching where you’re connected. You swear you can feel his cum inside, marking you in a way no man has ever done before. A primal voice roars mine and his in one sound, and your eyes must be as wild as his are because when they meet he’s crushing his mouth to yours, roughly licking in and swallowing down your weak pants. By the end he’s whimpering into your mouth, softening inside but loathe to move from the tangle of limbs. His arms surround your head, stroking at your cheeks as he watches you closely. Yours are too weak to lift yet, but you let one drape over his back. Fingers trace delicate patterns on his sweat-slick skin. 

“Is it okay if I say it again?” Jack asks. You hum curiously, his body settling into yours. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, eyes darting away shyly as his thumb strokes the corner of your lips. You smile wider, a feedback loop of happiness.

“I love you too, Jack.”

And in that moment, that’s all either of you need.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[jisungsdaydreamer]

district nine — l.mh

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

SYNOPSIS For the very first time in his life, eighteen year-old Minho is left to fight his demons alone, far from home and everything dear to him. New places, new people, new things to fear— it's an endless tightrope strung by the unknown. But what Minho does not know is that he will never walk it alone.

Pairing: Lee Know-centric story featuring the rest of skz. No pairings apply. Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, college au Warnings: themes of loss and grief, minor character death, fear of water/aquaphobia, post-traumatic stress disorder, mentions of underage drinking/alcohol Word Count: 4k

*Written for @k-labels debut event. My submission is for District 9 by Stray Kids.

“You’ll be okay, Minho.”

Minho tries to swallow the anxiety rising in his throat, fighting the urge to look up at his father one more time. The waves are calm today, rising and falling like the movement of his chest at night. However, the comfort of Minho’s bedroom is missing from the scene, replaced with the familiar fear that Minho always feels whenever he’s around bodies of water. 

“I’m scared, Dad.” Minho clings to his father’s sailing vest while staring down at the murky depths of the river. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Minho hears his father sigh in affection, more than frustration, before he bends down to match his height. He runs his hand through his son’s hair, tousling it like the balmy summer breeze overhead. 

“As long as I’m here, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” Minho’s father kisses his soft head before standing up once more and getting back to work. “See? You’re all safe.”

Minho nods unconvincingly, trying not to squish the soft grilled cheese sandwich in his hands. He really wishes he brought his stress ball with him. “Okay.”

“Cheer up, Minho! Your grandpa used to bring me here all the time, when I was your age,” Minho’s father calls out from where he’s busy reeling in a long line of thick rope and cramming it into a little metal box for safe-keeping.

“Hmph.”

It’s the perfect weather to be outside on the river, which is frequented by many others in their small town on idyllic days like these. Minho, however, would rather be back home, either assisting his mother in the kitchen or playing with his cats. But his father insisted on taking him on a boating trip, and he couldn’t refuse, not when he barely saw his father these days. He knows his father is facing an immense amount of pressure at work, and that this would help him relax. Still, he can’t help the feeling of foreboding twisting and turning in his stomach.

Minho decides to abandon the sandwich after all, nauseated by both fear and the way the boat consistently rocks against the current. He looks out at the water once more, glaring down at the river like he can subdue it with a withering gaze. As if his expression has summoned something, a little fish pops up into his vision, its brightly-colored scales flashing right beneath the surface.

Intrigued, Minho breaks off a small part of sandwich crust and throws it out into the water. The fish cautiously approaches the particle of bread, before eating it. Now momentarily distracted by the way the fish looks up at him, as if pleading for more, Minho tosses out a couple more crumbs, but this time, closer. The fish swims towards him like Minho wants it to, its little fins wagging happily as it eats.

Minho laughs for the first time today, prompting his father to look over his shoulder. “Having fun, Minho?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. But be careful— don’t go to close to the edge. The river is unpredictable.”

Minho sighs. Grown-ups. “I know that, Dad.”

By now, multiple fish have surfaced, eager for scraps like their lucky friend, and Minho indulges them, sharing his midday snack with all hungry for it. After a few minutes, his sandwich is finally gone, and the fish just gaze up at him. He shakes his head at them sadly. “I don’t have anymore left, guys.” 

Not wanting to see them go, however, Minho very tentatively stretches out his hand to the water, wondering if the fish would come to him. They don’t dare to come near, but Minho takes it as a sign to try even harder; the fish were just so pretty. Maybe if he caught one, he could put it in a jar and beg his parents to let him keep it as a pet. He’d name it Lino, so they both have rhyming names. Obviously, he can’t introduce Lino to his cats, but still, Lino would be his friend, a better one to replace the mean people who made fun of him at school. Lino would be Minho’s, and he’d be Lino’s.

Minho leans over the edge, all of his previous apprehension forgotten as his fingertips skim the cool water. The fish splash in the water, trying to escape Minho’s grasp, flicking little droplets of water onto the bare skin of his arms. Maybe this really isn’t that bad, Minho thinks, smiling to himself.

One of the fish darts in the water near Minho’s hand, making him giggle in amusement. His entire upper body is hanging off the edge now, only his feet anchoring him to the belly of the boat. “Just a little closer…” 

Just as Minho’s little hand is about to close around the fish, the boat suddenly lurches, and he ends up clasping a handful of river water instead of his target. Minho tries to pull himself back to stand so he can complain about his loss properly, before he loses his balance. The next thing he knows, he’s being catapulted over the side of the boat and falling headfirst into the river with a frightened shout. 

The first thing he feels after his body painfully careens through the water is how shockingly cold the water is, enveloping him like a frigid, suffocating blanket. The currents that lie below the surface finally manifest, showing their true colors as they swirl his body around like a rag doll. Minho remembers reading about such a phenomenon in some nature article, that sometimes, even though a small body of water may look peaceful, the sinister truth is hidden right under.

Minho gasps for air in the frothing rapids, fighting to keep his face from lolling to the side and trying to make his waterlogged body move, but to no avail. He was always too scared of the water to learn how to swim, even at their neighborhood swimming pool. Amongst other irrelevant reasons, it’s why he always gets bullied at school, why the other kids always make a big show of flashing their invitations to pool parties to him. He was never invited, and he never cared either, beyond that twinge of sadness in his chest. But now, all he can hear is the raucous roaring of the river around him, and for a moment, perhaps someone yelling his name from up above. But that sensation is soon lost, as Minho begins to submit to the strength of the water.

Before he finally succumbs, however, he feels a different kind of pressure on his body, strong arms circling his legs and propelling him upwards. Minho thrusts his own flailing limbs forward, trying to drag himself to the surface. The struggle barely works, as Minho’s hands finally locate the side of the boat, grabbing at the material and trying to find the side railing. Minho’s savior clutches at his ankles from down below, giving him a final push up and into safety.

As soon as Minho’s hips hit the bottom of the little boat, he ignores the pain in his side from the hard impact, scrambling to the edge of the boat once more. This time, he holds the railing like it’s his lifeline— which it very well may be. 

“Dad!” His eyes frantically search the water for any signs of his father, for the man who saved his life, but the action is to no avail. “DAD?!”

His efforts are fruitless, because the water doesn’t stir, calm once more and faithfully concealing the monstrosity hiding in it. The swallows chirp from nearby riverbanks, and the sun shines down on the river. Everything seems as it was before, except this time, the piercing, guttural cry of both Minho’s realization and grief cuts through the air. No, nothing is the same, and it never will be.

10 years later.

Minho wipes the sweat off of his brow as he stacks the storage containers on top of each other; the lack of air conditioning in the room is truly a menace to his efforts. Fortunately, the work is almost over, his bed already neatly made and clothes pressed and folded in the little wardrobe assigned to him. 

“You should really take some rest, Minho.” Minho’s mother looks over at him, placing the back of her hand on Minho’s heated forehead. “You’ll tire yourself out.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Minho turns away from her, trying to mask his trepidations with indifference. He takes some of the extra hangers strewn about and hangs up them, before shutting the closet door and glancing around the room, satisfied. Everything is in order, just how he always needs it to be.

“Sweetheart, you can talk to me,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around his stiff shoulders, leading him to his bed and sitting him down. Minho stares straight ahead, avoiding her gaze. If she looked into his eyes, she’d see straight through his facade, more than she already has. “I know it’s hard.”

“I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

But she does, she always does worry for him, and Minho knows that. He hasn’t ever been away for home for more than a few hours at a time; this is the first time he’ll be far from home, and permanently, too. 

“I love you so much. You know that, right?” She whispers, hugging him tightly.

He’s long overdue for a haircut, but he didn’t bother getting one. With the shaggy locks falling into his deep brown eyes, along with how his features have finely sharpened over the years, he looks more and more like his father. His mother always says how his father would have been so proud of him.

Minho sighs, patting his Mother’s back gently. “I know, Mom. I know.”

The sound of the dormitory room door opening with a bang makes them both jerk in shock, and they both look over at the entrance. A boy enters, a tangled string of headphones looped around his neck as he drags in a suitcase behind himself. His slender frame is tucked into a plain, baggy t-shirt and ripped skinny jeans, and wears a baseball cap backwards, loose tufts of inky hair peaking out from under.

He pays Minho and his mother no mind as they silently watch him from Minho’s side of the room. The boy doesn’t bother with unpacking his suitcase, just wordlessly dumping its contents into a pile on the mattress before flopping onto his stomach, next to it. He scrolls through his phone for a few moments, before seemingly noticing the other occupants for the very first time. He gives them a small glance over his shoulder, before flicking his eyes back to his phone screen.

“Jisung,” he mutters, barely making an effort to be heard.

Minho blinks, before his mother gives him an encouraging nod to introduce himself as well. “I’m Minho. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Cool.”

Jisung doesn't say anything else, opting to fall silent once more in favor of whatever is so much more entertaining on his phone. Minho looks back at his mother, perplexed, who mirrors the emotion. Obviously, this Jisung isn’t interested in conversation, or much of a relationship with his roommate. Minho’s mother shakes her head, smoothing out a wrinkle in Minho’s jacket. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? I can stay a little longer if you want me to.”

“You should go now, Mom. The welcome orientation is starting soon.” Minho tilts his cheek, accepting the kiss his mother places there. She’ll be gone eventually, and it’s better sooner than later, so he can prepare himself.

He walks his mother out of the building, where their second hand minivan is parked. And as soon as they both arrived, his mother is gone, and so is the comfort of her love, her presence. Minho just stands there, rooted to the spot on the sidewalk, watching his mother drive away until the vehicle turns a corner and disappears from his vision.

Adopting his customary blank expression, he makes his way back to the room, passing giddy students and their teary yet proud families. He steps inside and finds Jisung already passed out on his bare mattress, phone lying haphazardly on his chest.

Minho’s turns to sit back down at his desk and read a book for a little, maybe, when he feels something crunch under his shoe. He looks down to see an empty potato chips packet; obviously Jisung’s, and it must have been blown over from the other side because of the gusts of air coming in through the window. Minho glances at Jisung’s slumbering form for a moment, as if waiting for the boy to wake and clean up his mess. But he doesn’t, so with an exhausted grunt, Minho picks up the packet and disposes of it in his trash can, along with his hopes of making any friends here.

Minho weaves through the throngs of partygoers, trying not to pass out. The deafening beat of the bass reverberates throughout the vast room, prolonging the aching headache he’s had since yesterday afternoon. The first week of classes just finished; the workload was heavy, but Minho enjoyed his books more than people, anyway, so that didn’t prove much of a hardship. 

As for friends, he hadn’t made any. He’d intentionally put up a cold aura so that no one would come near him; he didn’t have the patience to brush anyone off. It’s why he can’t complain too much about Jisung— the guy just left him alone and let him do whatever he needed. Minho’s one grievance about him, however, would be how messy he is. Minho’s side of the room is always kept tidy, while at any time in the day, it looks like a tornado ripped through Jisung’s. 

It’s why Minho used the party as an opportunity to escape the dorm, to get away from the filth that he would have to share with Jisung. Even though he knew it would be a bad idea to come out to the back-to-school bash for freshmen that one of the fraternities was throwing, he came anyway. But he should have known better than to try and fit in with all of the other perfectly normal eighteen year-olds here. He’s never been a party person anyway, so here he is now, floating around like a loser while trying to find the nearest exit from the frat house’s outdoor patio.

But his progress is cut off when a heavily drunk frat boy crashes into Minho’s side, shoving him towards the pool that Minho unfortunately failed to notice the dizzying proximity of. Head whipped to the side, Minho stumbles, getting an eyeful of the turquoise, lighted waters of the pool, and moments later, he’s shoved in, an awful case of deja vu written just for him.

It feels like the whole world comes to a standstill when his body smashes into the water. Someone turns off the music, and people gather around to watch everything unfold like a movie. No one makes a move to help him, just letting out intoxicated chuckles at the scene like it’s something truly comical, nothing serious. And it shouldn’t be, barely a few feet of water deep. But Minho still doesn’t know how to swim, and so he thrashes mindlessly in the water, mind frozen over with panic.

Minho tries to scream for help, but it comes out garbled, with all of the chlorine forcing its way into his mouth and keeping him from forming coherent words. The memories of that terrible day come rushing back to Minho. Him, splayed out, afraid and all alone. Him staring out at the water, praying for his father to come back. The rescue boat coming to take him back, wrapping his small, shivering form in a thick towel. His father’s lifeless body being extracted from the river by the patrols, Minho’s mother crying in his ear. 

He’d been saved that day, but nobody was coming for him now. Good, Minho thinks. It was his fault, that day. It should have been Minho and not his father. Minho stops trying to make an effort, and this time, it’s by his own choice. He lets the terror paralyze him, and finally, he’s getting what he deserves. He’s so resigned to his fate that he barely registers someone’s arms around him, steadying him in the water. 

“What in the hell are you doing?”

Jisung’s voice fills Minho’s ears, hurtling him back into reality. Minho feels Jisung’s arms tighten around his waist, and their legs knock against each other in the water. But the agitation doesn’t leave Minho’s body, as he keeps lashing his limbs out in the water.

“I— I can’t swim.” He croaks, trying to inhale and exhale to calm himself down, a technique his therapist taught him long ago. It doesn’t work.

For a moment, Minho thinks that he’s somehow imagined the help, that he’s already died and this is his soul’s strange way of coping. But then Jisung speaks up again, quietly. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

For such a small person, Jisung really is strong, dragging both himself and Minho to the edge of the pool, where he grabs the railing and hoists himself up, before helping Minho out as well. Their audience steps away from the spectacle, going back to their own business, leaving Minho to sputter and cough, while Jisung just watches.

When he’s finished spitting out the mouthfuls of water that he swallowed, Minho looks over at Jisung. He doesn’t know if he really means it, but he says it anyway, because the last time, he never got the chance to. “Thank you.”

“Be careful.” Jisung stands up, stretching out his hand to Minho, who gingerly accepts it. “You never know when some hammered idiot is going to bump into you.”

In an unsaid agreement, the two boys leave the party instantly, having experienced enough of the party culture to last them for the rest of the year. They head towards the bus stop a few minutes walk away, instead of navigating the still-unfamiliar campus in the darkness. Minho walks with his arms wrapped around himself, stealing glances at the other boy, who stares straight ahead, whistling some random tune to himself.

“What song is that?” Minho hesitantly breaks the silence, his hatred for it outweighing the one he carries for conversation, for once. 

“Something I made up,” Jisung states, with a careless shrug.

Minho takes Jisung’s willingness to answer as a sign for him to keep going, to ask the questions that tug at him. “Why didn’t your parents come with you to help you move-in?”

Jisung doesn’t look at him, kicking at a pebble in his way. “Don’t have any.”

“As in—”

“They’re dead,” Jisung says shortly. “Car crash.”

Minho’s insides fill with something akin to sorrow. “I didn’t mean to—”

Jisung cuts Minho off for a second time, but now finally meets his eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Minho shakes his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “How are you able to be so… normal? How can you just move on like that? You seem perfectly fine.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything for a moment, before listlessly gazing up at the sky above him. “Everyone has their own demons. Just depends on who’s better at hiding them.”

Minho keeps quiet and hangs his head down, trying not to let Jisung see the tears stinging his eyes.If Jisung notices, he doesn’t say anything, even when Minho’s voice comes out choked. “Does it ever go away, Jisung? The pain?”

“I don’t know, Minho. I can’t say yes for you, because sometimes it does go away, and sometimes it doesn’t.” Jisung sighs. “But we’ve all lost someone. The best we can do is keep moving forward.”

Minho doesn’t see the point in covering up his tears anymore; his roommate saw a lot more of him tonight than he’d have expected from anyone. The dampness streams down his cheeks freely, but Jisung still doesn’t comment on it, and for that, Minho is grateful. “I don’t feel ready— for any of this. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“No one does, trust me.” Jisung bumps Minho’s shoulder lightly, and usually, Minho would flinch away from touch like that. But he doesn’t, not this time. “But I guess that suffering with a friend is a little better than doing it alone.”

“I guess.” Minho cracks a rare smile at the other boy, as their ride pulls up in front of them.

They both get onto steps of the shuttle, met with the blindingly fluorescent lighting of the inside. The driver scans the newcomers, looking at them with an eyebrow raised. “Both of you headed to Levanter Dormitory?”

“Yes,” Jisung answers.

“What a coincidence.” The man laughs, and Minho stares at him in confusion. “Everyone else on here is also headed to Levanter. Makes my job a whole lot easier.”

Jisung makes his way to the very back of the bus, Minho following suit. There are only six other people on the bus. All of them are dozing off— a common sight at this hour— except for two of the boys— one dressed all in black and the other wearing a navy sweatshirt with the shape of a puppy embroidered on it. Minho passes by them, recognizing their faces from the past few days— in either quick glimpses or snippets of their conversations echoing in the dorm hallways—before taking his seat next to Jisung.

The drive is long, due to road construction happening even this late at night, but no one says anything. And the quiet doesn’t feel uneasy— it’s comfortable, being able to sit and revel in the absence of the pressure to seem interesting. They revel in the mundane aspects of life; Minho fiddles with his hands in his lap, planning out the next day in his head, while Jisung just looks out the window at the city lights whizzing by. 

A loud noise outside cuts through the sanctity, making everyone jump in their plastic seats, and the ones who were previous asleep blink their eyes slowly in waking up. They all gaze out the windows, their young, pensive hearts expecting the worst. Instead, they’re met with the dazzling sight of fireworks, golden sparks exploding above the view of the towering skyscrapers.

The boys exclaim out loud, not bothering to conceal the youthful idealism in their voices of awe. Jisung presses himself up against the window, his breath fogging up the glass. Minho grins, strangely pleased by this new, playful color to his roommate, one that’s just as interesting as his contemplative one. The fireworks keep erupting, casting a hazy glow on everyone’s skin.

“I wish I had my phone to take a picture,” one of the other passengers says out loud, to no one in particular. “I forgot it in my room.”

Minho glances at the speaker, a heartbreakingly handsome boy who looks more like an AI than an eighteen-year old kid. “You can borrow mine.”

The boy smiles at him in thanks, accepting Minho’s phone and using it to zoom in on the lit-up sky. Minho tears his eyes away from the window to look at the others on the bus. Everyone here has their own pain, their own secrets, their own story. Minho would like to know them, and maybe one day very soon, he just might. 

Because Minho knows that every day won’t be easy. There will be days in which time feels like it’s just barely ticking by, and others when it’s moving too fast, leaving stressed students with only seconds to finish their exams. There will be festival days and sleepless nights, good days and bad. But the negative thoughts will always outdo the positive ones if he gives them the strength to do so. 

He’s pushed others away for long enough, unwilling to forgive them, the world, and most of all, himself. But he’s now realized that life really does go on, that the beauty of it manifests in different ways every single day, whether it’s getting pulled out of a frat house pool or bearing witness to a brilliant aerial display. He understands that he just has to keep looking for it, that small light. And maybe these people— the very ones sitting with him on this simple shuttle back to his new home, the ones who could change his life in an instant— could help him find it one day.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thank you to my impending college first-year worries for permeating my mind & forcing me to write this. Also, quick shout out to the lovely @simpforyongbokk for being my wonderful beta-reader. Honestly... I don't expect this story to get much attention, but either way, I'm dedicating it to all of the others like me, the people who will also be far from home soon enough, those with big fears and even bigger dreams— here's to growing up. Here's to 18.

-Dreamy

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

TAGLIST @hamburgers101 @chansburgah @ajxreads @hash2013 @pixigreen @ana-marais98 @ohish  @chizumiyoshi @lilydaisyyy @jetblackbelle @yeahhspider @army-stay-noel @143hyunes @httphans @ave-221 @nyasstars @beautifulmusicaddict-blog @xsw-void @queen-klarissa @ultimatestayandminoronce @sxlxna @chillseo

If you’d like to join my taglist, click here! If I wasn't able to tag you above, please check your blog settings!

NETWORK TAG @k-films

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

[angelst4rv]

Day 8

Weight: 62.75kg

It’s the first day of week 2, I’m so proud of myself for making it this far for the first time since forever. I was 13 when I successfully reached a bunch of goal weights. Ever since then I haven’t been able to do it. And I know I’ll do it this time because I feel the same feeling of determination and absolute need for it. Every other time I’ve failed, I didn’t want it bad enough. With that being said, I still get urges to binge and cravings. Recently not much but last night I’ve had thoughts of recovering again as an excuse to eat. But I just thought of how far I’ve come and my dream body. I need to know how it feels to be so small. I can’t wait to get to day 30 and start a new challenge. FYI, when I start any challenge it’ll always start by being easy and not as strict and then it’ll increase with time.

Week 2 will have an increase in exercise but the food will stay the same

Exercise

- 10k steps: rest

- 75 sit-ups: rest

- 75 russian twists: rest

- 75 squats: rest

Meals

- Breakfast: 2 cream cheese and honey toast - 270 cals

- Snack 1: diet pepsi - 0 cals

- Snack 2: iced americano - 0 cals

- Dinner: grilled chicken sandwich (170 cals for bread + 120 cals for chicken + 85 cals for cheese) , 6 baby carrots (30 cals), and 1 tbsp of hummus (30 cals) - 429 cals

2 large waters: ✔︎

Total cals: 699

[nine-of-words]

Out in the Cold (Part Five)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 3631

Content Warnings: None

Sorry for such a long gap, I had a crippling bout of writer’s block and then it was suddenly a month later. But I’m pleased to announce I haven’t forgotten how to write :)

You look down warily at the creature scratching at the base of the tree you’re perched in.

This little guy is nothing like that one scary hexopard etched in your memory- the one that supplied the material for your beloved winter cloak. 

You sigh at the sight of the creature’s plush fur. You left that cloak behind when you fled the settlement, despite it being one of your favorite belongings. It just didn't feel right to take it with you after… everything… but the biting cold is really making you wish you had caved and brought it along anyway. 

This smaller hexopard’s scavenging around for food at its leisure, driven to snack on anything it can get its hands on easily to bulk up for the coming hibernation, but it’s not in a hurry. 

Because it’s not currently driven mad by post-hibernation hunger and aggression, you can probably distract it enough that it won’t view you as a tasty morsel to snack on and you’ll be able to slip away. You just need something enticing enough to hold its interest…

Then, looking down at its twitching nose, you realize that its sensitive sense of smell has probably picked up on the dried venison jerky in your pack. Your theory is all but confirmed when you pull out the pouch where your rations are from within, and you swear you can see its eyes light up.

“Alright, buddy. Follow these and not me, okay?” You say, looking for a good place to toss them. Then, you wind up your arm as best you can in your position, and chuck the pouch into the woods in the opposite direction.

The hexopard immediately lets off the tree and lumbers after the pouch, tail swishing behind it as it loudly crashes unbidden through the underbrush.

After a few moments of observation, you slip down the tree gingerly, hoping to not become more interesting than the alluring scent of dried meat. When you get to the bottom, you’re relieved to see the creature so fully engrossed in your ration pouch that you might as well not exist any longer, its snout fully covered as it roots in the opening of the leather. You sneak off quietly while you still have the chance. 

Once you get far enough away, you resume your trek at a faster pace. After another hour or so of traveling, you grin from ear to fluffy ear as the sight of the river comes into view. 

Salvation.

Your pace picks up without you even thinking about it, your morale boosted by something going right for once. Your tail curls behind you in a delight.

You’re not exactly thrilled at having to give up your only food supplies; yet you’re alive and no longer lost, and that seems like a pretty good trade-off.

Now, all that’s left is to follow the river back to town. Then, this whole ordeal will be over. You’ll be back to your old life, though now enjoying the increase in station in the guild pulling off such a momentous task surely will earn you. Who knows, maybe they’ll even splurge on a feast to celebrate! 

Now that does sound good right now.

Think about something else, you urge yourself. You need to force yourself to stop, lest your mouth start watering. Anything else… The grumbling of your stomach is distracting enough already. 

But it’s no use, you’ve fallen down the mental rabbit hole, and now only thinking of all the things you’d like to eat when you get back. You’re swept up in thoughts of whole roasted suckling pig and honeyed chestnut sweetbread… braised venison with cherry glaze and grilled root vegetables… seeded crackers with soft cheese and over-slathered with homemade berry jam… 

Hell, you’ll even take marinated eggs right now…

You wipe your mouth on your sleeve. It takes you a moment for it to sink in, but those are all things that you’ve been eating at the stronghold that you’re craving, not things you miss from home. All of your memories of food you miss from the past are so fuzzy. It’s hard to remember anything of note, past vague, smeared memories of nostalgic meals you ate when you were very young.

And when you get back… you probably won’t eat Orcish food again. At least not for a while.

It’s… fine.

You’ll be home, soon. And you won’t have to think about any of this ever again.

LAST SPRING

“Surely there’s something I can help you with.” Your tail swishes in agitation behind you, a clearly visible indicator of your emotional state. “You’re just being difficult.”

“Urgh- Don’t you have something better to do than bug me?” Torg rumbles, running his good hand down his face in annoyance. "Work to finish? Anything?"

His arm is still in a sling from the hunting incident. And true to his nature, he's being an absolute ass about accepting any help.

"I've already filled my quota today." You say smugly, hands planted on your hips. It's one of the rare days you've finished early and without incident, and you're quite pleased with yourself about it.

"Good, you should be off enjoying the nice weather while it’s here, rather than nagging me in this stuffy office."

"Just let me help you, you stubborn oaf!" You lean over the desk, slapping your hands down on the papers in front of him. Your loosely laced shirt hangs off you a bit with the movement. The new clothes you had made for the warm weather don’t quite fit you as close as you typically wear your shirts- the tailors here still aren’t quite used to your non-orc proportions.

Torg simply stares down at you in perturbed silence. You’ve gotten much more comfortable with the way you communicate with Torg since the hunting trip, but he is your superior. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far..

"...Torg?"

"...Fine." He grumbles, now looking at anything but you.

He really must be prideful if accepting your help makes him this uncomfortable…

"Shop taxes are due, but I don't think I'll have time to visit each one today." He makes a list of names on a sheet of paper. "You can knock out some of the collections for me."

"You're trusting me with handling funds?" You scoff.

"When you put it like that you're really making me second guess it." He chuckles, but slides the paper across to you nonetheless. "But I do trust you, if you can believe it. They'll already have the gold ready in pouches. You just have to collect them and bring them back here."

"Alright. Leave it to me." You take the paper with a grin, filled with a sense of victory at having convinced him to let you help.

He grunts and goes back to what he was doing. 

You can barely refrain from rubbing your hands together in glee on your way out. If the big man of the settlement trusts you with funds of all things, it looks like you're making progress towards your goal. Maybe having a reason to poke around more shops will give you more of an idea of where the item you're looking for is…

The first stop is close enough: a short walk to the tailor's shop, nearby in the middle of the settlement.

"Good afternoon ladies!" You say cheerily as you enter the colorful shop. Granny Ghorza is taking a break from her loom, sweeping the floor instead. She's become one of your favorite orcs here; she’s a funny old bat and makes the best sweets in the whole settlement, to boot. "The good looks must really run in the family."

Her young adult granddaughter manning the counter balks a little at the blatant flirting, but gives you a courteous smile. She's a nice enough woman, though shy and a bit forgettable. Her name eludes you at the moment…

"Mmhm, and how are your new spring shirts fitting dearie? I might have to add some modesty stitches if you're going to wear it unlaced like that, ohohoh!" She cackles, using the broom handle to pull at the front of your partially open, billowy shirt. "Looks a little breezy, you might catch a cold- or worse, someone’s attention, eheheh!”

"Ahah- They fit perfectly fine, thank you!" You act scandalized, pinching the gaping collar closed and pressing the broom handle away, before you turn to approach the counter.

"Um, what brings you here today? I don't think you have any orders waiting to be picked up..." Ghorza's granddaughter says meekly with a polite smile, looking through the ledger book at the counter. "Your items are… hard to forget, since they don't use up much fabric…"

"Ah, I'm here to collect your tax dues." You explain. "Since Boss is still healing."

"Oh. So… He isn't coming today, then…?" The young woman asks, in a curiously forlorn tone.

"Afraid not. Though, I assure you I am perfectly capable of safely transporting a gold pouch." You say and let out a friendly laugh.

"I see, I see. About time the man let someone give him a hand once in a while." Ghorza gives you a toothless smile. "Would you be a dear get him the dues, Murgol? The pouch is ready in the top drawer."

Murgol twists the hem of her shirt in her hands in displeasure, looking like she's about to break into tears at any moment. Then her lip quivers, and she unceremoniously flees the room, sniffling.

There’s an awkward moment of silence that seems to stretch out far too long for your liking before Ghorza speaks again.

"Mmgh, that girl…" Ghorza shakes her head in reproach. 

"Is she… going to be alright?" Clearly something upset her quite badly, but you don't think you said anything that egregious… "I hope I didn't offend her…?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. She's sensitive when things don't go her way, but she'll live." She shuffles behind the counter, hobbling into her granddaughter's previous spot. "Let me get you the gold, dearie."

You leave the tailor shop, eating a slice of candied apricot-studded sweetbread that Ghorza definitely forced on you and you only took because you were guilted into taking. You scratch the tailor’s family name off your list as you reflect on the strange interaction with the seamstresses. 

You like to think you're quite astute when it comes to social intelligence, but you just can't put your finger on what may have been the trigger of her outburst.

Oh well. Perhaps she's just going through something personal?

You put the interaction out of your mind and head to the next place on your list.

You walk into the blacksmith's next. Luckily she doesn't seem to be too busy as the shop is currently devoid of customers, with her hammering out something at the anvil.

You’ve been friendly with her ever since prepping for the hunting trip. Apparently Lurog and her are good friends, and she was kind enough to let you use her shop to create the arrowheads you needed for your trial. You buy them directly from her now, chatting a while every time you come to replenish your supply.

"Hello Burzgob," You speak up so she can hear above the metal clanking. "Amazing job you're doing there."

“Thanks, little guy. I'm guessing you're not here to buy? Don’t think you used up all those arrowheads from the other day already. …At least I hope."

"Nope, I'm here to collect tax dues. I'm helping Boss out since he's still injured. Two hands better than one, or so they say."

She guffaws, setting the hammer down and pulling her gloves off before wiping her hands on her apron.

"Oh, damn. I was expecting him to be the one to drop by." She rubs her cheek with the back of her hand, still managing to smear soot there as well. “Bummer.”

"Spirits, you're not the first to feel that way today!" You say in exasperation. "I'm starting to think no one wants to see me…"

"Hahah! Nothing personal, trust me!" She grins and pats your shoulder, getting soot on your shirt as well. "Had something I needed to ask him."

"Oh, I see." You nod, and without missing a beat, nonchalantly add; "About what?"

"Hah! So nosy! Sorry, little guy. I like you, but it's a secret."

"Drat. Well, I tried…" You let out a performative sigh and shrug.

"Hey, uh… you're pretty close with Boss though, right?"

…Are you…?

You hadn't really considered it before, but over the course of training and especially after the hunting trip, you've definitely gotten used to his presence. You have something akin to a friendship now; or at least, what must look like one from a spectator's point of view. He’s quick to help you with anything, but he seems to be that way with all of the people in his charge. Though, at the very least, he trusts you enough to let you help him with this task, when asking for help with his own tasks seems to be something he does very seldomly..

"I suppose you could say that." You conclude.

"Can you deliver something to him for me, since you're going back there anyway?"

"Sure, I don't see why not."

"Great! I owe you one, bud." Burzgob's face lights up as she grins, the silver caps on her tusks glinting. She returns and hands you a tied bundle with a letter tucked under the string. It smells like perfume. "Uh, promise you won’t read it, okay?"

You fervently promise you won’t, then bid her goodbye and leave the blacksmith's.

You have a similar experience at the tanner's, then the baker’s… and then the chandler’s…

Somehow, this seemingly easy task has left you feeling like a withered corpse. Luckily for you, however, seeing which family runs the last business on the list fills you with a sense of ease. 

The shop bell jingles as you enter, and you’re immediately awash with the pleasant scent of soap, as well as a heady mix of any sort of cosmetic salve, wax or powder you can think up.

Your self care routine took a little adjustment, being out in the wilds, now. So many of their products were completely foreign to you at first. But despite the slight learning curve, you’ve honestly never felt better. You weren’t exactly taking the best care of yourself while hopping from flophouse to flophouse that belonged to your guild; you barely had the resources to keep yourself fed, let alone buying overpriced soaps and perfumes. But here, things aren’t too expensive, despite being handmade and about as locally sourced as something can be.

Lurog is sitting behind the counter of her family's salon, seemingly counting out the till while the shop is closing down for the evening around her.

"Hey." If she's surprised to see you, she doesn't show it. "We're closed. But if you want your hair done I can do it for you when I'm done here."

"Oh, is that Boss?" You hear one of Lurog's several younger sisters call out from farther inside the shop.

"Is he finally here?!" Another one chimes in and peeks her head around the divider.

"No! False alarm." A third one sweeping her station sighs. "Just the little kitty cat."

You quirk an eyebrow at the reception, but everyone but Lurog has gone back to chatting over their tasks.

"I might just take you up on that offer, I'm getting a little scraggly… Not what I'm here for, though. Boss sent me to collect your dues."

Lurog nods in understanding, but your attention is on the loud, spirited gossiping in the shop behind her as the women discuss their displeasure at this development amongst themselves.

"Don't mind them." Lurog shakes her head in admonishment. "They're just mad because they wanted the chance to flirt with Boss."

“Flirt?” You scoff. “Taxes really get their motors running, huh?”

“Hah.” Lurog rolls her eyes. “No, they’re just all desperate to find men to torment.”

"Oh." You say, wheels starting to turn in your head. "Do you think that's what's going on with everywhere else I've stopped today too…?"

"Wouldn't doubt it. Boss would be a catch for a lot of the women in the stronghold." Lurog says simply, retrieving the gold pouch and sliding it to you over the counter. "Midsummer festival's coming up. Big time for romance. But Boss is either real picky or just not into it. Hasn’t taken any of them up on the offer yet… But he also hasn’t explicitly turned anyone down.”

“Ah, but then… Why are they all still asking? Wouldn’t he just ask who he’d like to and be done with it, if he wanted to court anyone?”

“Because with orcs it’s up to the one that’s gonna be taking it-“ She smirks and makes an incredibly crude gesture with her hands. “To ask to start the courtship, or whatever you wanna call it.”

“Really now?” You feel your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Why is that?”

“Unh-uh.” Lurog shrugs. ”Just how we do it, I guess." 

Well, that certainly explains why you haven’t been getting invitations to share anyone’s bed, despite being as gorgeous and alluring as you are. What would a full-fledged orc want from you, with so many massive, hunky orc men around to choose from?

But that means you have the power to try to lure a man in.

Hmm… if you were to ask out one of the right orcs, you might have better access to off limits areas for your search…

Lurog must notice the spark of an idea in your eye of how to use your newfound power, because she quickly adds; "You should wait until the festival to harass any men. Better success rate."

“You know, you’re actually very helpful when you want to be.” You grin at her. “It’s a shame you don’t often want to be.”

“Thanks.” She snorts in a deadpan tone. “I wish I could say the same.”

You finish your friendly ribbing with Lurog, more than ready to haul back the large rucksack of gold and the almost nearly as large, cumbersome pile of offerings for Torg, and be done with this task.

You can't help but get into your own head about what's happened during this excursion while you make your way back. You can feel the irritation growing the more you dwell on it, your tail twitching behind you. 

All of the shop owners on your list were women. Specifically, women that seem to be interested in Torg. It seems far too unlikely to be a coincidence- you doubt that many of the shops in the settlement are run by eligible women fawning over Torg.

More importantly, why does it upset you so much? 

Jealousy…?  Because you’re lonely?

It must be that- because he apparently has a queue of women asking to court him when none of the male orcs in the settlement even look at you twice.

…Right. That must be all it is.

You're still a bit grumpy about it as you return to Torg's office.

"Here you are." You set down the pack with the gold pouches inside and the bundle of gifts on his desk with a heavy sigh. 

"Thanks for the help." He says, then noticing your clearly negative mood, he looks up from his task. "I hope it wasn't too much of a pain."

"No, it was easy enough.” You grumble, and go on to quip as you nonchalantly examine your cuticles; “Though… if you wanted me to host a meeting of your fanclub, you could've just asked."

"That bad?" He looks genuinely sheepish, scratching the edge of his beard.

"It was pretty bad." You put your hands on your hips, deciding that you'll give him a bit more of a hard time. "A lot of disappointed ladies giving me shit for not being you."

"I'm sorry. If I knew it would bother you, I wouldn't have given you that task."

"Apology accepted, but it seems…” You make a noise in disgust. “A tad unkind to lead so many people on like this, doesn’t it? It's not like you at all."

"I'm- Ugh. I'm not leading anyone on. At least I'm not trying to-" He runs a hand through his hair in discomfort. "I am Chieftain, I can't have so many of my people holding a grudge against me for rejecting them romantically. It would be disruptive, so I thought it would be best for me to just ignore any of these crushes some of the younger women have on me."

"It must be difficult being so popular with the ladies…" You say dryly.

"Hey, poke fun all you want, but it can be. Someone will be hurt regardless of what choice I make."

"Why not… Oh, I don’t know… pick one, then, and get it over with? Then the ones you don't pick can accept it and move on, rather than holding onto false hope."

"It's not that simple…"

"It sure seems like it is!" You chuckle. "How is it not the simplest thing?"

"Because I am not interested in any of them."

"You're telling me you have your pick of half of the young, gorgeous Orcish women in this stronghold throwing themselves at your feet," You lean over the desk and gesture to the bag of offerings on his desk. "And not one of them meets your standards?"

"No." He says heavily, clearly weary from the ongoing nature of this conversation. “Are you satisfied? Can you end this interrogation now?”

"...Okay." You relent, incredulous, but still accept his words. You've grilled him enough, you suppose.

A small smile has taken up residence on your face.  Did you really enjoy hassling him that much…?

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[zooophagous]

Strauss was a native German speaker, though there were woefully few opportunities to use it in the States (he had ceased referring to them as "the colonies" after much correcting.) It wasn't the only language he had in his repertoire that he had long since ceased using, however. Latin was a language even longer dead than he was.

But much like himself, it lived on in a newer and much evolved form. The word "Company" came to mind. 'Com' meaning 'together,' and 'Panis' meaning 'bread.' Someone you would have bread with.

He could no longer eat bread. But the vegan grilled cheese and tomato soup combo would be a fine supper for a certain lycan, if he would open the door. Strauss knocked quietly at Troy's dorm.

A muffled "go away." Came from the other side.

Strauss didn't go away. He also was too polite to simply push his way in. So he stood there and allowed the smell of hot food to permeate and the strength of his silence become defeaning. Soon he heard a grunt of annoyance and footsteps.

Troy opened the door.

"I told you to git."

"Of course. You don't mean it though. Besides, you must be hungry."

"I don't want to eat. I don't deserve to eat."

"Oh shut up."

Strauss pushed his way into the room, Troy submitted tiredly and dragged himself back to his bed, where he burrowed under a thick comforter. "I'm not coming out. I'm not eating it."

"I went through the trouble of microwaving it for you, you will eat it. Doctor's orders." He set the food down on the night stand and sank into an oversized bean bag chair.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why not?!" Troy stuck his head out of his blanket sanctuary. "For the same reason you don't eat. Now do you understand?"

"I have begun to increase my meal intake. Do not think my own abstinence is a moral judgment on you. I am, after all, a murderer. I have no basis to pass a moral judgment on you, Troy."

"Well that makes two of us."

"What do you mean by that?"

Troy paused, but burrowed into his blankets without answering the question. Strauss was undeterred.

"Troy. What did you mean by that."

"I mean what I said." Came the muffled reply. He let the comforter fall from his head with a sigh. He eyed the container of food with sad, hungry eyes. "I never told you why I went vegan, did I?"

"No. I did not think it my place to ask. There is a story here?"

"Yeah."

Troy scooted to the edge of his bed and sat facing the vampire, but with his head down staring at the floor. Strauss didn't mind a lack of eye contact, at least.

"You know how you told me you don't eat very much because you're afraid of feeding bad urges?"

"Yes."

"Well. This is sort of related to that. I already told you things were difficult in high school. I was adopted, which already makes you feel like the odd one out. And on top of that I'm gay. I know you don't have much of a frame of reference for this, but rural Minnesota in the early 2000's wasn't necessarily what you'd call a beacon of love and acceptance."

"You were mistreated by your peers?"

"Relentlessly." He sighed. "Every dumb chucklefuck with something to prove would try to pick on me. They'd make fun of me for being fat, not realizing that I'm also just big in general and could pretty easily take most of them. Usually it didn't get physical but there was this one guy."

Troy's voice cracked along with his face, contorting into a deep pained grimace. He inhaled sharply as he continued.

"When I was in my last year of high school this one guy, Derek, thought he'd get the courage to make an example of me. He tried. He nearly succeeded. He was about the only guy in the school almost as big as me. He took me by surprise when I was walking home and we started fighting in this ditch."

"I get the feeling Derek did not win this fight."

"He didn't win. He also didn't survive." Troy swallowed hard.

"I thought he was winning, at first. My heart felt like it was going to explode, and my whole body hurt like a mother fucker. I thought I was dying. I know now I was just...waking up. I wasn't really all there for the rest of the fight. I don't remember a thing before waking up naked and covered in blood in the shelter belt behind my parent's farm. I thought it was MY blood."

He chuckled nervously though tears had begun to fall. "I got cleaned up and waited for my folks to come home to tell them I'd been jumped. I didn't really find any major injuries on myself so I decided not to try and go to the hospital on my own. They were really late coming home that day. Said they had to stop and wait for the cops to let them drive through. Said something bad happened on the road."

Strauss tilted his head. "I understand. The trauma induced your very first shift."

"Yeah. I started losing. I shifted. And I... Strauss, I mauled him. He was so badly torn up that they couldn't even have a real funeral."

"What did you do? Were you a suspect?"

"No. Officially this was the work of an animal attack, and at the time nobody knew what that animal was. Not even me. But what makes me sick to my stomach is that someone blabbed some of the gritty details about what happened after his autopsy was finished. And come to find out not only did I kill him, Strauss..." Troy solemnly looked up to face his friend, his eyes red and watery.

"I ate him."

"I see." Strauss sat quietly for a moment. "I do suppose flesh of any kind might be difficult to stomach, after that. You are perhaps lucky you did not develop a prion disease."

"Not only the disgust. There's this notion about animals, see, that old timers on farms have. It's that if a dog or other animal gets a taste for blood, a taste of raw meat, they get obsessed with it and they don't ever stop killing after that. I stopped eating meat, any meat, trying to starve the wolf. Trying to make sure it didn't come back. And if it did, it would come back weak and docile and too slow and shabby to kill someone again."

"Obviously, it does not work."

"But it did! Sort of! I mean, I haven't killed or seriously hurt ANYONE since that day. And I've had some close calls. Sure the institute helps, but do I really want to take any chances with my diet? But now I've gone off the deep end again. You couldn't even stop me, and you were one of the people on my treatment plan!"

He yelled, and put his hands on his head. "So now I'm taking a page out of your book. I'm just going to stick to a bare bones ration. I'll be too weak to shift, and if I shift I'll be too weak to fight. It's safer."

"No. I simply will not allow it."

"Make me."

"Troy." Strauss stood up. "For one, it sounds as if, even unintentionally, you acted primarily in defense of your own life. Such is the right of any living thing on this planet- to preserve that limited gift against an attacker by any means necessary. For another, if the options are to have you here in front of me or to have a cruel, violent dullard; I will pick you every time."

"You don't know, though. Maybe you would have liked Derek. Maybe he would have matured into something better than what he was. Maybe I robbed the world of someone who could have helped save it."

"He wasn't doing a very good job. And if he had succeeded, he would have a difficult time learning and growing in prison. The world was going to lose him one way or another. Perhaps if he went to meet God, you did him a favor by sending him to the afterlife without the stain of murder on his hands."

"I thought you didn't believe in God." Troy snorted.

"Not believing in and hating are two separate things." He folded his claws neatly. "Truthfully Troy, he sounds like someone I would have also consumed. But, myself with much more guilt than you, because I would have torn him apart and had my fill while lucid and sapient."

"Listen to you talk so big. Aren't you supposed to be "harmless" according to the institute?"

"Formerly harmless. If you remember correctly, I was technically arrested by the Van Helsings under a charge of murder."

"Yeah but didn't that guy have it coming?"

"Exactly. See? I knew you'd get there. Now, come out and eat your sandwich. Please."

"I still don't know if I want to. Even if it is vegan."

"Yes... I often have had some trepidation about consuming blood, even when given to me freely. I have had to learn to accept it as a gift and swallow it along with my feelings. This... "grilled cheese" is my gift to you."

"You're really going to make me eat this, aren't you?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, you cannot undo the harm done to others by harming yourself. Believe me, I have had eons of trying."

"Fine. But on one condition. You hang out with me and chat while I eat it."

"Chatting I can do."

[that-one-anxious-mango]

Heyyy ☺️ I love this series sooo much, it is so nice to see Austin stories that involve a black reader. Not having to edit the story in my head to make it fit me is wonderful 🥰. For your Drabble event could you do either first date or a special date that they have had? Thank you 💕 💕

20 Questions.

Summary: It’s a in-house date night with Austin and his best girl. Where you get to know them and they get to know each other!

Contents: Fluff ofc! Mentions of deceased relatives. Little angst if you squint. Slight steaminess. Austin and his best girl being the cutest.

A/N: Hi Beautiful Humans! It’s me! I hope y’all of you are having a wonderful time. Just wanted to go ahead and drop this off for you guys and also give some special shout-outs to:

@pennyroyalcreep for not only this lovely prompt, but also for your continued love and support with my work. ❤️

@purejasmine one of the sweetest people I know and a absolutely amazing writer. Thanks for always supporting and creating.

I also wanna thank @adoreyouusugar , @denised916, and @homebodybirkin2003 whose comments never cease to make me smile.

And to everyone else who I may have missed. THANK YOU. I truly appreciate it.

Moving on I am also officially starting a tag list. As I plan to upload some things this week. So if you’d like to be added please leave a :) in the comments.

Thank you all!

P.S Everyone feel free to PLEASE comment and reblog. Also send me letters with idea and prompts. Love hearing from you all. Much love! * hugs*

-------

Today was Friday.

Which also meant it was date night. 

And with it being quite gloomy outside for the usual LA weather the two of you had decided that it'd be the perfect day to have a in-house date night. You insisted that tonight you would to try and cook for your man a simple meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup.

A skeptical but supportive Austin would go on to happily watch you not only blacken all attempts at the grilled cheese, but also burn the poor tomato soup that you forgot to add enough water to.

And once the tears started rolling, in real Austin fashion he'd wrapped you in a blanket and placed you on the couch promising to return. After cleaning up your food fail he pulled out all the ingredients he needed and made a hell of a good pan of pasta. 

After some feeding, cuddling, finger fucking , and napping. The two of you had decided that a more PG-13 activity was in order. With that you suggested a game that you'd been wanting to play with Austin for a while. Let's get deep: 20 question edition.

" Okay. Here we go, number one." You listened to Austin while you giggled staring down at the stacks of cards in front of you and then back up at Austin, who looked on in amusement. " What movie was so sad that you would never watch it again? " He asked.

" Mmmm." You thought for a minute, there were plenty but really you could only narrow it down to two, " I think I would definitely have to say either Dumbo or Fruitvale Station. I can't choose. You can only watch both once." You affirmed.

" Watching Dumbo is a traumatizing experience that no child of any age should be subjected to at all. Like just the first thirty minutes was enough for me to need a lifelong therapist. And as far as Fruitvale Station goes...I feel that the content overview speaks for itself. It's a beautiful movie, but I could barely make it through til the end." You explained.

Austin nodded, " I seen Dumbo a long time ago when I was little and all I remember is this very strong urge to go hug my mom after watching. " He said making you smile, " But I haven't seen Fruitvale Station. No particular reason why, it's just never happened."

" Understandable." You nodded reaching to grab another card off one of the piles.

" My turn. Two. What's the weirdest thing you find attractive in a person?" You moved your eyes to look at him in curiosity.

Almost immediately he said, " People who floss."

Amused in question you went, " Really? Why? "

" Yeah. I don't know. But in a weird way to me. It shows that you care about yourself. Like babe, do you know how many people don't floss. Ever." He explained.

And the more you thought about it, he was right. Gross.

But lucky for you, you didn't have that problem seeing as your upbringing had made you a bit of a dental freak. So you hit all the points in that department. 

" Yeah. I guess I see your point. " You said just as a thought passed in your mind, " So, do you find it attractive when I floss." You goofed biting a bit of your upper lip.

Laughing at you he leaned over to plant a hardy peck to your lips, pulling away to say, " Makes my dick jump every time, sweetheart." He half whispered sending the two of you into a short fit of laughter.

" Alright alright alright. Next. Three. " He moved to pick up a card, " Describe our relationship in three words." He asked.

Even though you had to think a bit, it didn't take you long before you had your three words, " Meaningful.....Honest.... Adaptive. " You answered.

Eyes glimmering in happiness and satisfaction Austin questioned, " I know these are suppose to be short but, care to elaborate please."

" Well, I feel it's meaningful because literally almost everything we do has some type of meaning behind it. Like when you got me the fern. Or when I gave you the blanket. There's always some type of love behind everything. Plus you mean so much to me and in-turn I mean so much to you, which I guess in general terms makes us meaningful..right?" You giggled trying your best to explain your thoughts in the best way you could.

But Austin understood what you meant, he felt his heart swelling bigger and bigger by the moment, " I see. So what about honest?"

" I feel our relationship is also built around honesty. I know I've told you this before but throughout my life I've encountered a great deal of liars and that's something that I really didn't wanna come into my adult life with. Unavoidable I know. And especially in a relationship. " You began, " But with you, from the day that we sat down, listening to you be so open and honest with me when at the time I was just a complete stranger to you. It made me feel something. And from then on I've never ever had to second guess anything or feel like your keeping things from me. It's refreshing and I value that." You explained.

Austin listened intently thinking back to the first hours the two of you had spent together talking after he'd finished reading you the book. Hearing you talk about how surprised you were hearing Austin talk the way he did shocked him a bit. He hadn't really ever realized just how personal the two of you had gotten in that short amount of time. But to him now, that was just proof that this was something special from the start.

" And finally I think we're adaptive because whether it be your schedule or mine that keeps up from doing traditional couples stuff. We make it work. We adapt to whatever challenge we face together. And that's important." You finished offering a smile.

Austin return your feeling of content displaying a smile of his own. He was so happy to be with you. And to be building the kind of relationship where it's foundations were things like these. Things that would help the two of you last, because all in all. That was goal.

" I think all of that is really accurate and beautiful, mama. I love you." He said reaching for your hand to bring it to his lips and press a gentle kiss to it.

" I love you, Aus." You returned reaching that same hand to palm his cheek.

The two of you continued your little moment before moving forward.

" Number four. Name something that you wish you could do but can't." You asked.

Teasing Austin said, " Gain the ability to say no to you."

You rolled your eyes playfully. " Be serious, Austin."

Laughing some more he says, " I am being serious, woman. You have no idea the power you hold over me. It's like you just know all you have to do is bat those pretty lashes at me and say please, to turn me into a sucker." He informed.

Your smile widen, " Really? "

Austin nodded leaning back against the couch, " Awe don't be coy. Really, mama."

You sounded a ' Hmmph '.

" Well I'll just have to keep that in mind then, huh?" You said shooting him a glance.

Smirking he replied, " Don't go getting too many good ideas."

" I won't."

With that he leaned up to send a squeeze to your thigh before reaching and grabbing another card.

" Mm. This is a good one." Austin's lips twitched up into a smirk while he shot you a look.

" Oh god." You laughed rolling your eyes, " Dare I ask? "

" Yes, please dare." He wiggled his eyebrows and you laughed, " Go ahead then."

" Five, If there's a particular part of you I should touch to get you in the mood. Where would it be?" He questioned.

Playfully humming while placing your pointer finger to the corner of your lips, the curiosity of wanting to know where he thought it was himself popped in," Before I answer where do you think it is, Mr. Butler?"

" Well, honey." He sighed leaning back against the couch," Based on months of bountiful research and exhausting observations. I'd have to say it'd be your neck."

Dammit.

He was right. You loved when he touched your neck. It always left you breathless in more ways than one.

" You sure, " You challenged figuring to keep your cool," Because if I recall your always touching my thighs."

And it was true. If the two of you were laying down to read or watch a movie Austin either had to have his head rested in your lap or hands stuffed between the crevices of your thighs. In the car, Austin only drove with his left hand because his right was specially reserved for your thigh. Whenever your being a little bratty or you say something about yourself that Austin isn't fond of, you better believe he is going to send a good little pinch to your thigh before kissing the spot all better.

" That's because their my particular part of you that gets me in the mood." He informed looking at you while gliding a singular finger up your thigh to the hemline of the shorts you wore. Still never dropping eye contact he continued, " But I know it's your neck because whenever we make love and I run my hand across your neck or decide to take a good little grip on it. That my love, is when you come for me the hardest." He finished.

By now that same finger had turned into a full hand that had found it's way up to get a nice gentle but firm hold on your neck. He softly used it to pull you to him and place a nice sloppy kiss to your lips making a moan release from your throat.

Pulling back he let go with a smug grin on his face to your annoyed but disheveled expression before motioning for you to draw a card while you tried to collect yourself.

Once you had settled the waves below, you a bit shakily grab the next card, clearing your throat, " Okay. Six. What is one activity that makes you feel alive?"

Without a doubt Austin knew his answer, " Easy. Horseback riding. Nothing like making that bond with a horse, the trust you build with them is pure. And then being out and open with nature. Clearing your mind and body. It's refreshing." He explained. " I think that's why filming The Shannara Chronicles was one of my favorite projects so far." He furthered grabbing a sip of the Yerbamate on the table.

" Yep and I'll have to take your word for it, babe." You quickly chirped making Austin sigh. 

Ever since you and Austin had stumbled on the topic of horseback riding one day and you had revealed to him that while you thought horses were absolutely majestic and beautiful from a distance, under no circumstances would you ever consider getting on one. Period. And to him this was a great injustice...almost as big as when you told him you didn't like PB & J's.

You shuddered at the thought.

" Baby for the thousandth time. I'm telling you it's not as scary as you think it is. And you won't know until you try it. That thing with the girl was just a freak accident. That's a exception." Austin tried to argue but still you just shook your head unphased. You knew what you'd witnessed all those years back and you were good.

" Austin." You started, " The poor girl broke her back and part of her collarbone after one of them threw her off and fell on her. I seen it happen. It's like he WWE smushed her ass on the ground." You recalled watching a friend of a friend in high-school's scary interaction with the creature. It was terrifying. " Plus I'm pretty sure that she wasn't exactly ever the same in the membrane after that either." You added thinking about some of the antics the girl had gotten into post injury.

Austin blew out a breath, " Honey, while I think the situation is terrible. I'm pretty sure there was other factors that went into the happening. But I'm telling you that it's not normally like that. You just have to trust yourself and the horse."

Hearing him you still you were unchanged and really wanting to chance the topic so you came up with the compromise, " Okay okay okay. I hear you, Aus. And I'll think about it some more okay." You suggested shooting him a look to send the message that you were ready to move on.

Taking the hint he settled for what you were giving with a somber smile and moved to pick up another card, " So the next one is a little heavier, if that's alright?" Austin questioned staring down at the card.

Feeling like you could fully trust him you nodded, " Go head, babe." You prompted preparing yourself.

" Seven, in your opinion which is worse. Emotional or physical cheating? " He asked looking directly into your eye line.

" Oh." You spoke. It wasn't like you couldn't answer or that this wasn't something the two of you hadn't discussed. It was just a bit of a uncomfortable topic was all.

" Well being honest..." You trailed looking over to his face that was locked in on yours.

" Yeah." Austin encouraged.

Taking a second to collect your thoughts you began, " Like I said before, cheating no matter what is a deal breaker for me. But, being honest I think their equally as bad in opinion. I know anyone can argue it anyway. But the way I see it is that it takes something emotional in the first place to drive someone to cheat physically. I feel like if we're in a exclusive relationship where we're trusting and committing our bodies to only each other and you go and share that part of you with someone else it's a betrayal. And same thing with emotional. If we're in a relationship and I'm giving my all to let you know that there isn't anything that you should feel like you can't come to me about, and you still go and share those parts with someone else. That's also pretty bad so..." You finished looking him directly in eye. 

Austin nodded taking in what you were saying completely. This wasn't his first time hearing you express your expectations when it came to this type of dishonesty, but it was good to hear again all the same, " I hundred precent agree with everything you've said. And vice versa over here. I think our communication is good enough to where we can communicate our needs effectively to each other. But I still want you to know that we're never going to get to that point, honey. That's one of the reasons that ring is on your finger. It's a promise." Austin sincerely confessed making your heart expand.

You peaked down at the promise ring on your finger and then back at Austin.

" I know." 

" Good."

" Alrighty moving on. Eight. Is applesauce suppose to be warm or cold? " You posed.

" Cold." Austin immediately responded, " That's the only right answer."

You nodded, " I whole-heartedly agree. And I'm glad to know that you aren't a nutjob. "

" Noted. Next." Austin laughed picked up a card, " Nine. What is something that you wanna like but just can't? "

You sighed in faked despair, " Saunas. I really wanted to be that girl. The insta-fit chick that has the whole sauna self care bit going. But I realized how much I really don't like being sweaty unless absolutely necessary. " You informed to a smirking Austin. 

Before he could open his mouth you reiterated, " I SAID ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY." 

His hands shot up in defense while he snickered, " All I was going to ask was if you wanted to get sweaty later. But seeing as that wouldn't be absolutely necessary. I guess not." He shrugged.

Smacking your teeth you grabbed a pillow to childishly toss at Austin while you tell him that getting sweaty with him will always be absolutely necessary in your book.  " I'll hold you to that." He says shooting you the infamous look.

" Look forward to it. But first we have to finish this before we start something else, " You remind him picking up a new card, " Ten. Name the most fond memory you have with your moth-" You stopped mid- question instantly regretting asking, you hadn't meant to bring it up.  Idiot.

Quickly you tried to shift and grab another card while shooting him a sympathetic look, " I'm sorry, babe. I- I should have read the card in my head before I read it out lo-"

But he halted your movement softly grabbing your hand, " It's okay It's alright, B-"

" No, Austin it's not I sho-"

" You should just go ahead and let me answer. I promise it's okay. Matter of fact..I want to." He said holding your eye contact to show you he was sincere until you agreed leaning back. 

" I know I've said this in interviews before, but growing up not to faraway from Disney and Knotts Berry, my mom and I would go all the time. Finish all my homework earlier in the day and then drive over. We used to spend hours riding the rides or just sitting on the park benches and talking. Because I was so shy and homeschooled on top of it she was bestfriend. I could sit and talk to her about anything....God I miss her." Austin reminisced bringing a smile to his face. You could see the tears forming in his eyes and in return yours did the same. 

Instinctively you reached out to him which he accepted offering you a spot on his lap.

 You held onto him in silence drinking in his warmth and touch while enjoying the quiet comfort you were offering through the silent intimacy. The two of you stayed just like that for awhile. Your head against his chest listening to the melody of his heartbeat and feeling the weight of his head rested on yours. His hands ran up and down your spine gripping and rubbing. 

You felt oddly harmonious with each other. 

The two of you stayed like that before you let go when the brilliant idea of desert popped in your mind. Remembering that Beatrice had dropped off a royal raspberry drizzle cheesecake. You went to the kitchen coming back with two plates carrying carefully sliced pieces. You were sure this would lighten the mood.

Austin smiled taking his plate and offering you a " Thank you, baby." And a kiss to the temple. 

From there you resumed your game.

" Eleven. What is the most precious or important thing you own? " Austin asked before taking the bite of cheesecake you were offering.

" Um. " You sounded setting the desert plate on the coffee table, " Well, babe. I'm gonna have to cheat a little bit." You confessed.

" Oh. How's that." Austin inquired.

" I'm gonna have to list some things." You confirmed.

Smiling Austin says, " I'll allow it."

" Good. Okay so the most precious and important things I own in no particular order is my promise ring, the blanket my mom made me, our fern, my mother's ring, and my lucky smiley hat." You listed.

" You know I love when you wear that hat." He laughed, " You always look so cute. Remember when you wore it when we went to go see the jazz band in the park. Everyone tried to steal it off of you." 

" Yeah it was quite interesting. Having to fight off people with John Coltrane playing in the back."

"  But anywho. Twelve, If we were role playing. What would you dress me up as? " You bite your lip waiting on his response.  You were extremely curious to hear his answer.

You had to adjust yourself a little bit as you felt the gates to your 'oasis' starting to open up even more than earlier from the way he was looking at you.

" Honestly? " Austin's eyebrow raised.

" Of course. Wouldn't want it any other way." You responded.

" Well, even though it may sound cliché. In my younger years," He laughed, " The whole French maid thing intrigued me for a bit."

Your mouth twitched in a smile, " Know what. I'm not surprised. That checks out." 

" What?! What's that suppose to mean? " 

You laughed at his playfully offended expression while he clutched his chest, " It means that you seem like a french maid kind of man, babe. Classy. You already have this old school charm to you. So it's on-brand that you'd be into that." You elaborated.

He looked at you a second before saying a simple, " Thats fair. "

Tilting his head at you he continued, " So, if a little french maid outfit just happened to appear in your size around here somewhere. And I called to say my office may need some dusting...would you be willing to oblige." He suggested leaning over and biting at his lip.

You leaned in and said, " Oui."

He groaned and blushed a bit in response moving to grab another card only to laugh when he read it, "Right on topic. Thirteen. How many children do you want someday? "

" Um...uh..well it really depends. When I was younger I always wanted to be like cheaper by the dozen or the mine, yours, and ours family. " You giggled thinking about how you wanted a brood of children to homeschool, make three meals a day for, and be driven absolutely crazy by. But as you got older and life took it's fuzzy fun filter off and you began seeing the true colors of the world, that life started to seem less and less ideal. 

You caught Austin's face which was mixed with curiosity and glee. Even though you guys had had some conversations here and there that involved kids he'd never heard this from you before. He was intrigued, "Seriously you wanted twelve kids. You with twelve kids?" He repeated for emphasis.

You laughed, " Yeah. Believe it or not. I like kids and I love my nieces and nephews even though I don't get to see them as much as I'd like. So, in a perfect fantasy world. But being realistic though. I think I would like two or four. I wanna have enough but not too many to where I won't have the energy or the time to give them all as much equal time and attention." You explained.

" I get that. And I like that it's even numbers. So no one will ever be left out of games and they'll be able to pair up when we go out to fairs or do activities." He added with a gleam in his eye.

Austin couldn't lie and say that hadn't thought of what life would be like settling down with you and hearing little footsteps roam the halls. Some could say it was too soon to be thinking about things like that, but he couldn't help. You made him want a future with you.

And vice versa. 

" Exactly. Don't want anyone getting lonely." You agreed trying to play off the blush that had captured your face. You pulled a card, " Fourteen. What's your favorite thing about me?" You asked.

" There's so many different things, honey." Austin sighed trying to rack his brain to be able to just pick one thing, and then he said it, " Your unflinching ability to be kind to everyone."

Your twisted up your face, " Really, you think so? " 

It wasn't like you were saying that you thought you were mean. I mean sure you did your best to try and be nice and kind to everyone you came across, but you weren't the type to just stick that label to yourself. 

" YES REALLY. " Austin emphasized, " You'd literally give anyone the clothes off your back and shoes off your feet. You never cease to amaze me with the grace you have with people even when they don't deserve it. Especially in that situation with the Paps the other week. I know it took a lot not to respond to the name calling and picking but you just kept going and even told the man to have ' a blessed day'." Austin recalled the icky interaction you'd had with paparazzi while out with some friends. 

Shaking your head you waved him off, " I just do what I was raised to do. It's a natural thing. Can't sweat that." You said.

And that's exactly what I want you to teach our children. Austin thought. 

" Yeah, babe. I know. But it still adds to your amazingness. " He concluded picking a card, " Alright. Fifteen. Where is somewhere you've always wanted to go, but never been? " 

Your answer was almost instant, " Italy." 

Austin blinked fast smiling, " That was fast." 

You shyly grinned, " Yeah I know. I didn't mean to say it that fast but that's my number one. I've just always been fascinated by the food and culture. And I really feel like I wanna go and immerse myself in it. Ya' know experience it for myself." You told him of your dream.

It was true too. You could see yourself having authentic pasta and taking walks along the rivers. Finally trying pure gelato. Visiting different museums and taking rides on the gondola. It might sound like cliché tourist behavior but you wanted it all. 

Austin was taking note of how you lit up while talking about the idea of visiting and decided to slip that note into his pocket for later. 

Once you'd finished your mini ranting you picked a card, " Sixteen. Name something that you're weirdly good at? "

Austin noodled on the question. Then you watched him grab one of the unused napkins as he started to twist and pinch it in his hands. 

Curious you asked, " What're you doing, my sweet baboo? "

Feeling fuzzy at the name he responded, " You'll see. Just wait a second, honey." 

So waited and watched him. You found it cute how concentrated he looked. 

 And before you knew it. He was handing you a beautifully crafted rose napkin.

" Awe Austin." You gushed. " It's so cute. How'd you learn to do that? " 

" Ah'. It's just something I randomly picked up once. But I think I've gotten pretty good at it over the years." He said. 

" I hope you know I'm going to force you to do this with all our napkins now, right." You teased. 

" That's fine. Anything for you, mama." He moved closer to you now wrapping a arm around you. 

You didn't know why but him saying that, had made something jump in you. Something hot.

And the closer he got, the more you looked at his face. And the more you looked at his face, the more you wanted to sit on it. 

Not being able to help yourself you managed to move in and capture your his lips with yours. They were always so soft. 

After a minute almost reluctantly he pulled back catching apart of his breath, " Woah, Mama. Wait a minute. As much as I'd love to keep going. Don't you still wanna finish the game first? " He asked cupping your face with a hand.

"Nope." You popped the P, " Not really." You spoke before pulling him back in. He groaned in your mouth at the added friction you brought by started to grind slowly into his lap.

Still once more he found the strength to move away, " You sure?" 

You nodded, but just then a funny little tease came to mind, " Know what. Actually, I do have one last question honey." You said running your against his cheek.

" Go for it, darling."

" Final question. What's your favorite sex position." You questioned positioning yourself up some more. You could see the fire dancing in his eyes and from the way he licked his lips you were sure there were fiery thoughts that accompanied them. 

He sighed biting his bottom lip, " Well. If you must know. As old fashion as it may sound. I'd have to say missionary." Taking a squeeze of your ass.

" Why? " You coyly asked.

" Because I like to be able to look you directly in the eye when I make you come over and over again. The faces you make, always looks like art. Care to be my muse? " He asked taking his hand away from your face to move it along down to your throat.

And with that all you could do was nod before you found yourself on your back, on the couch looking a pretty man in the eye while he gave you pretty amazing orgasms.