#these cheap pieces of shit DON'T STAY ON.

[killbaned]

maybe had an exhaustion and hunger meltdown about fucking bandaids lads

[thedialup]

grocery shopping (and shoplifting) tips from a cashier

DON'T BUY NON FOOD ITEMS AT THE GROCERY STORE. THEY JACK THOSE PRICES UP SO HIGH. laundry detergent, cleaning products, medicine, haircare shit- it's all better to get these somewhere else.

only buy the store brands UNLESS there's a sale on name brands that makes it cheaper than the store brand (but this is pretty rare). there's no difference.

most vendor coupons are shit, especially if they're trying to get you to buy more than one item. be really careful using these as a lot of the time they're not a good deal.

ignore the entirety of those drink coolers and snacks at checkout. most of them are overpriced and not worth it.

most store brand canned items and stuff like ramen noodles are super cheap.

FROZEN FOODS ARE SO OVERPRICED. BE VERY CAREFUL.

meat is expensive, and don't waste your money on any sort of organic blah blah whatever meat. it's the exact same shirt

same thing with organic produce, especially if it's something like bananas where you don't actually eat the outside. don't buy pre-packaged produce, it's not worth it for the exact same thing without a package.

check if produce prices are per pound or per item. they vary wildly so make sure to check so you don't get surprised at the register.

do you have self checkout? EVERY PIECE OF PRODUCE IS A BANANA :)))))

small stuff is was easier to steal than large stuff, obviously. don't try to fit a 50 pack of chex mix in your coat. it will not work.

most cashiers dgaf about shoplifting. managers do. stay away from them.

don't waste your money on overpriced expensive "organic natural blah blah blah" food unless you really have to bc of a dietary restriction. most processed food is more expensive and this just makes it even worse.

if the store has a membership card and you don't have one, always ask to use the store card. they'll let you, you just have to ask.

ground meat is cheaper and more versatile than whole cuts of meat. also make sure to look out for managers specials on perishable items like meat because they're trying to get rid of stuff so it'll be marked way down.

that's about all I can think of rn, add on if you have any extra tips

[weird-an]

"For fuck's sake."

Jim already has a headache and apparently it's gonna get much worse. He pours himself a cup of the shittiest coffee in Hawkins and turns to the kid sitting in front of his desk.

"What happened, kid?" he asks. "Why would you do that?"

Billy Hargrove reeks of cheap liquor, trouble and the metallic smell of blood. His lip is split and he looks like he hasn't slept in a week or so.

Billy doesn't answer, just glares at him.

"Breakin' and entering is no joke," Jim starts again. He sounds as pissed off as he feels, because he still has Mrs. Carters shrill voice in his ear, calling from Loch Nora about a burglar, about her fancy neighborhood getting sullied.

"I didn't do shit," Billy protests. "I…was just…"

He falls silent, mouth snapping shout like he regrets he even said a word.

"What?" Jim probes, because there's a piece of the puzzle missing.

Billy shakes his head, lips thin.

"Should I call the Harrington's and ask if you were invited?" Jim knows he's an asshole, but it comes more naturally to him than being nice.

Something flashes across Billy's face and his tan gets drained out by miserable paleness.

"Don't call them," Billy says, fingers digging into his thigh so hard his knuckles turn white.

"So, let's try again," Jim says, taking another sip from the dishwater the station claims is coffee.

"The key's under the flower pot," Billy mumbles.

Jim raises a brow. "And you know that why?"

Billy's eyes shoot dagger at him, the way only a pissed of teenager can look at an adult.

"Steve put it there for me," he says lowly, like it's a secret, something dirty and shameful you hide under your bed. "In case I need a place to go to…"

"So, you're pals?" Jim asks, huffing a laugh in disbelief. "Why didn't you say so?"

Billy's jaw tightens.

"Nobody knows," he finally says. His fingers find his necklace, tugging at the pendant. "It's better that way."

Jim is close to crack a joke about dramatic teenagers, but Billy's blue eyes are dark and there's a sadness there that doesn't belong to someone so young.

Whatever it is, Jim gets another piece of a puzzle - but apparently they're playing Hide and Seek.

"Okay," he says after a while. He'll put a stamp on the report, saying Confidential or similar shit. "You can go."

Surprise makes Billy look softer, less hurt. "What?"

Jim shrugs. "I've heard enough. Or do you want me to lock you up?"

It's a joke, but his throat clogs up when he looks down on Billy's file and sees that the kid had already spend a night the drunk tank a few weeks ago.

"Whatever, Chief." Billy lifts his hands. "I'm outta here, then."

The kid is halfway through the door, when it hits Jim. Billy can't go back to Loch Nora right now. Mrs. Carter is probably on guard.

"If you still need a place to stay, you can sleep in the break room," Jim offers. "The couch is a disaster though."

Billy stands in the doorway, eyes wide. He plays it cool when he catches himself.

"If I don't have to drink that shit." He points at the coffee. Jim can't blame him. Although 1 am is way too late to get cheeky.

"Just go to bed," Jim grumbles.

Billy salutes him. Jim can see his shoulders sinking, his whole body a bit less tense. Maybe he'll get them donuts for breakfast.

[gh0stswh0re]

"relax your throat, darling"

warnings: f! reader, blowjobs + deepthroating, mutual masturbation, domestic fluff, inexperienced reader, established relationship, mentions of the reader being a virgin prior to the relationship, soft dom simon, praise

a/n: i spent an embarrassingly long time writing this and it's still barely a meh. it can be taken as a pt3 to the ghost x virgin (!) reader fic, although it's not implied anywhere + it lacks any proper storyline. this is more of a dribble than anything else.

...

nearly twenty minutes have passed since he picked you up in the kitchen, threw you over his shoulder, and carried you over to the couch – all of your protesting, giggling and playful hitting were to no avail.

it didn't really bother you, the feeling of domesticity; despite how quickly it settled into your lives – living together for barely three weeks and the tiny four-room apartment already started to feel like home.

the early morning cuddles which soon turned into ruthless competitions of who stays under the blankets for the longest before developing the first clinical signs of hyperthermia.

the dim flames of the cheap candles playfully dancing as their sweet aroma of apple-cinnamon spreads throughout the entire apartment complex – it'd be the very definition of tacky if it wasn't for simon trying so hard – even preparing dinner, despite cooking being one of the activities he hasn't done in years, and burning his hand twice in the process.

showering together – because it saves water, of course.

the late-night chatters which followed; strangely enough, simon never makes any other environmentalist comments – what a bastard.

all the small pieces puzzled together into the safe and comfortable living space you two shared, and while he would never say it out loud – simon was utterly thankful for it. and for moments like these – when he had you pinned down on the couch, one hand pressed against your tummy as the other held your hips in place with his nasty mouth pressed flat against your cunt – he was thanking god. or whatever external divine force intervened with his dull life - where the wish to suffer was just a passive request of his subconscious mind – and brought you straight into his embrace. it all felt like a simple promise - a promise of something greater that life has to offer.

this was no rare occurrence – grabbing handfuls of his clothes, silently urging him to take them off, to allow your curious fingers to explore every inch of his body, ... all while he slowly leans back, as the gaze of his drowsy eyes pierces right through you – like a predator stalking his prey - watching your every movement, and studying each individual facial expression – he could sink his teeth into you and devour you whole at any given moment, but he choses not to. truth be told, he finds his own perverted pleasure in it – his body merely anything but a physical tool for you to experiment on - teasing him in all ways possible just to see which movement provokes which reaction in him – who would have guessed such a pure virgin would turn into such a filthy slut.

although, there was a specific thing you've been begging him to try out with you – deepthroating. it sounded fun and looked fairly easy too – seeming like a good time all around.

today, you've built up enough courage to take some of the control away from him – dropping down onto your knees, a hand stilled on each one of his thighs as your lips sank down on his dick,"you didn't- shit, darling" the adam's apple bobbed in his throat as his head fell back and he swallowed hard. "darling, hey- you don't have to" one hand rested on top of your head. "but i want to" he should've known by now - dumb comments get even dumber responses.

you hated admitting he was right – especially about things you've begged him for – but it was a bit too much.

your chin quivering as your throat spasmed around his cock each time he hit the soft palate at the back of your mouth? too much.

your knees burning as if you've been kneeling on fragments of shattered glass for the past ten minutes? too much.

your jaw growing sore as spit dripples down your chin onto your chest? too much.

the stifled moans cutting through his vocal cords up his throat, as the blackness of his blown-out irises consume the color of his eyes? too-fucking-much.

he noticed – warm fingertips crept behind your neck, traveling up to your hairline "hey now-". blood rushed to your face – tingling your cheeks and painting them a shy tone of red as your lips separated from him with a loud, wet pop.

the calloused pads of his fingers rubbed against your lower jaw, carefully easing the stiffness away right before his palm wrapped around your throat – constricting the airway just enough to get a giggle out of you – dipping his head down, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, swallowing the musky taste which spread throughout his mouth.

"just like that, lean back-" releasing his grip on your throat, his hand dropped down to your chest - pushing you away slightly. "and touch yourself" breath cycled inside your lungs – into your mouth, out of your nose – faster and faster with each weary moment.

"you know how i like it" lust streaked through you – from your veins into your bones, swallowing your being entirely. you do know exactly how he likes it – two fingers spreading the swollen folds of your cunt as the third one circles on your clit – and just how much he likes it.

so you did it – leaning backward on your heels, your right hand slipped past your tummy down to your sex – fuck, embarrassment burned hot inside you, but you couldn't deny just how aroused the entire thing made you – wetness was practically dripping out of your aching cunt.

your eyes bore into his before your stare dropped down from his lips to his collarbones - now glistening with a thin layer of sweat - to his stomach – muscles tensing up – down to his lap – he looked massive even as his own hand gripped around his length.

a part of you wanted more – to just hop onto his lap, to soak right through the fabric of his pants as you straddled against him.

the other part, the greater part of you, was frozen in place – paralyzed as you watched his hand move up and down, and up – his thumb teasing the leaky, sensitive tip – and down – his hips thrusting back against his palm.

bliss started to blur your brain's function and soon only a single thought remained in that pretty little head of yours – as he'd call it – to cum, to cum hard, and to cum right fucking now.

"faster, little dove – sing for me" pure carnality.

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> general, feelings of anxiety, punches r thrown

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FIVE -> BAD BITCH ENERGY (partially written! wc:722)

"Actually, I can't do this!" You exclaim, anxiety gnawing at your lungs as you get closer to your home.

"Yes, you can." Minho drives on, not sparing a glance in your direction.

Sooner than you hoped, you're there, staring at the pale yellow door through the passenger side window of Minho's car. The house looks no different than when you left, only you can see your flowers drooping slightly in the window. Although you'd only been gone less than a week, it felt like a million years. This place was no longer your home; you didn't know if you had one anymore.

"Just- can we stay parked here for a second?" You try to squash the tight feeling in your throat, constricting your words to a whisper. "I'm not ready."

"No offence, but I don't really wanna waste my gas sitting here all day-"

"Yeah, and that thing I left for you was actually kind of important-" Beomgyu chips in.

"I basically stood someone up for you, so you better not chicken out-" Han gives you a pointed look.

They all stare at you and you have to look away, hide the tears welling in your eyes. You're going to disappoint them if you don't go, just like you disappointed Seonghwa, just like you always do. You never should have asked them, never should have burdened them with this-

"Hey." Minho shifts his body to face you better and you glance over, eyes falling to your hands. "How about we come with you? Would that make it better? Easier?"

You look up at his question, tears now threatening to spill over. "Yes, please."

"Shit, she's gonna cry again!" Beomgyu laughed uncomfortably. "Y/n, c'mon, it'll be okay, don't worry! You've got us. Now, wipe your eyes and let's go. Can't have your ex seeing you this distraught over him, can we?"

"Bad bitch energy," you say in a broken voice, words NingNing has tried to engrave into your very brain over the years.

"Bad bi-" Han waves a hand in the air. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

You wipe your eyes, trying to muster every bit of strength you have to see him, placing a hand on the door handle. A wave of fear washes over you again when you start to push it open, the boys following suit.

But then you slam it shut.

Han groans loudly and sits back down, Beomgyu and Minho doing the same.

"What happened?" Han asks, exasperated. "Where's the bad bitch energy or whatever?"

"I'm sorry!" You can't look at them. "I'm sorry. I can't-"

"Enough with the 'I cant's' because yes, you can." Minho turns his whole body to you again, grabbing your chin with two fingers, and making you look at him. "He broke your heart. He hurt you. So, yes, you can go in there, reclaim your things, and never have to see him again. There's no reason for you to even think about him after this." He can tell you're not fully convinced. "How did it feel to see him with the other woman?"

"It felt like my heart shattered into a million pieces," you say. Minho opens his mouth, but you continue on. "Then he took those pieces, ground them up into a fine powder, and scattered them to the edges of the Earth where I'll never find them again. It felt like the ultimate betrayal because I knew I gave him everything and trusted him, but he clearly didn't do the same. Or even close."

You sit up straighter, squaring your shoulders.

"Yes, there, that's it." Minho smirks, eyes widening ever so slightly.

"And the way he thought I'd be the one cheating?" You're anger flares, skin heating up. "As if I didn't tell him how much I loved him daily? As if I wouldn't be too busy working on something that I was proud of that he didn't even let me talk about because, 'oh, honey, we both know your career isn't going any further'."

Anger leads you out of the car and to the front door before you can register your feet moving, pounding a fist on the door when the spare key is nowhere to be found, mumbling every wrongdoing he's committed.

You are furious.

And your hand moves on its own when Seonghwa opens the door.

notes -> do NAWT mess w miss y/nnie. she WILL beat ur ass.

notes pt 2 -> didn't mean to post this! so accidental extra chapter today lmaoo

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @taeriffic @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13

L^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[bonny-kookoo]

Here to tell you I still very much love baby darling and would love to see how things are progressing with them or any tidbits you’d like to share

(I’m still shit at coming up with Drabble prompts 🫣🥺)

Thank you for not forgetting them (I love them)

"I told you not to get me anything!" Jungkook laughs as you put the small wrapped up present on his lap where he's sitting on your couch.

"Its just something small..." you mumble, sitting down next to him while you watch him trace the spots where the tape holds the wrapping paper together. "Open it." You suggest, but he bites his lip.

"But it's packed so nicely. Did you wrap it yourself?" He asks, and you nod. "Fuck no, it's so pretty, I don't wanna ruin it!" He says, making you reach for it to open it- but he holds it away. "Hey, no! That's mine!" He snaps playfully.

"I'll take it back then-" you giggle, and he instead catches your lips for a quick kiss, successfully making you sit properly again.

"Hm, you're so easy to tame." He chuckles, before he sighs and moves to open it, fingers carefully ripping the paper. "What is it.?" He wonders, opening the simple cardboard box to find a selection of silver and anodized metal jewelry- the rainbow shine of those particular pieces catching his interest. But it's only when he inspects them further, noticing the weight and tiny imprint on them, that he realizes something. "Wait- that's actual titanium? Surgical steel? Silver?" He gasps, eyes wide as he unpacks a pair of rings. "Baby those must've been expensive-"

"But your lip got uhm.. it was all red and you mentioned it was because your skin.. reacts to cheap metals and stuff." You shrug. "So I got you some that won't hurt." You say, and he looks at you with wonder.

You listen. You remember.

You care.

He carefully puts the box on the table to fetch his backpack he brought since he's sleeping over, where he takes out a larger, way more chaotically wrapped item, bow somewhat holding its shape.

"Hey, you didn't stick to the agreement either!" You complain with laughter, when he urges you to open it with almost.. worried anticipation. And once you unwrap it, a soft, round and velvety snorlax plush sits in your lap, your hands holding its paws, felt claws triangle shaped.

"You.. I saw you looking at it last time we were out at the mall." He mumbles. "I'm not sure.. I hope you didn't buy it already, they didn't have the larger one anymore-"

You move to hug him, and that's answer enough for that second as his arms wrap around you.

"Thank you for feeding my plushy addiction." You say ibto his neck, and he laughs.

"Welll, to be fair, this dude could stay in bed while we fuck, since his eyes are close- ow!" He laughs when you use that mentioned snorlax to hit him, toy nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

And in that moment, he realizes he's found his place.

Right here, at your side.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hello. It's Talita from Ao3 here, I said I would come. 🤭😂 So I'd like to request Hunter x shy fem reader with the last smutty prompt: ❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜ Maybe the reader's inexperience might come to the surface when they're all in 79s and a drunken Crosshair suggests she get someone to f*c*? But reader waits for the right partner. ♥️

Hey Talita! Thanks for the request and all the love you’ve been sharing 🥰

Shy readers seem to be the flavour of the moment, as I just went out with one for Crosshair!

This one ran away with me. It’s my longest to date. Hope it's okay 😊

Waiting for You

A night out at 79’s leads to a revelation that surprises the whole batch, and with feelings becoming increasingly more difficult to hide, it was only a matter of time before you and Hunter reached a crossroads. (Pre Echo)

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.8k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: friends to lovers (🤌), Cross is a shit stirrer (what else is new?), alcohol consumption (but both parties are sober for spicy time), sibling teasing/banter, sweet sweet tension and yearning, sexually shy!reader, virgin!reader, first kiss, first time together, oral (f!receiving), light fingering, unprotected PiV, reassurance and comfort, pet names, praise, sprinkle of dirty talk, soft aftercare.

Translation: (Mando'a) Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh. – You could have her.

The thump of the music wasn’t so heavy, tucked away in a back booth of 79’s. It wasn’t often you visited, preferring to frequent other bars and clubs whenever you and the boys had shore leave - there were perks to them not looking like Regs. However, 79’s was close to where you were all staying and cheap enough that the few credits you’d all managed to save would go much further than they would anywhere else.

Wedged between Wrecker and Hunter, with Tech and Crosshair taking up the seats on the opposite side of the booth, you watched as Wrecker pried a well-worn card from the pile in the middle of the table. During your last Venator stop, you’d made a few trades with some of the Regs and had walked away with a small pile of loot, including a set of ‘drink or do’ cards. They were common amongst the clones during downtime, providing distraction and intoxication.

Wrecker flipped the card over, huffing as his eyes skipped over the text. “Let the group message anyone on ya datapad or take two shots.” He read the card aloud.

Crosshair’s hand immediately extended for the datapad, fingers curling in a ‘give it here’ gesture. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and you laughed as Wrecker huffed, handing over his device to his younger brother.

“You are aware this is a group effort, yes?” Tech asked, leaning in towards his twin to look at the screen. Out of all of you, Tech had elected to stay sober, hating the way his mind went fuzzy with the effects of alcohol. One of you needed to ensure you all returned to the hotel in one piece.

The deadpan look Crosshair gave him pulled a giggle from you. You were several drinks deep by now – some of the cards you’d drawn had been wholly inappropriate, so shots had been the only option. Everything felt good, your inhibitions lowered, and you knew you were safe. Your men would look after you. 

A year you’d been with them, traversing the galaxy, trying desperately to keep them alive. Nat-born medics were a rarity in the GAR, but sometimes they were called in. You’d been head-hunted from Coruscant Medical after the Batch had been out in the field for a few months –they hadn’t gotten on well with the Reg medics initially assigned to them.

“Please pick Fox.” You insisted, leaning a little across the table. Gasping, you had a new idea. “Wait, no! Wolffe.” You leaned back with a wide grin, enjoying Wrecker’s groan. Knowing Crosshair, the message would be salacious, and you knew a few of the men in the Wolfpack who would absolutely fill you in on their Commander’s reaction in the morning.

Crosshair lifted a finger, pointing it at you. “I like the way you think, doll.” He complimented. Only when he was several drinks in did his tongue loosen and compliments flow more freely.

“That’s why you keep me around.” You tease, watching as the sharpshooter taps out a quick message. A gentle hand on your knee has you turning your attention to Hunter, your smile widening at his touch and how he pushes a glass of water closer to you, encouraging you to hydrate properly to stave off a hangover in the morning. Warmth seeps through you at his care, and you’re grateful for the cacophony of sounds and stimuli in 79’s that mask the way your heart rate spikes a little.

Although Hunter indulged a little this evening, he knew his limits. He’d been nursing a Tsiraki for most of the night. If he wasn’t careful, it didn’t take much to frazzle his senses and cause a two-day migraine. Keeping his wits about him also meant he could look after you. 

Nestled between Wrecker and himself, the laugh lines on your face and the glint in your eyes told Hunter that you cherished these moments despite the chaotic nature of their lives. He appreciated how you fit into their world, understanding their quirks and unspoken communication. You navigated the challenges of their unique existence with a grace that fascinated him. To him, you weren’t just their medic; you were their companion, their confidant, a source of solace in a gritty galaxy.

Hunter’s gaze lingered on you as Crosshair added the final touches to the message. The playful banter and easy camaraderie were the moments he adored the most. Yet, beneath it all, there was a yearning, a quiet ache that he couldn’t quite put into words.

He saw the weariness that sometimes lingered in your eyes – chased away this evening by liquor and laughter – and wished he could erase the shadows that sometimes clouded your gaze. It fuelled his desire to protect and shield you from the harsh realities that had become their norm. 

Taking a sip of his Tsiraki, Hunter let his gaze linger on the curve of your profile. The way your hair fell, and your fingers traced absentminded patterns on the table while you chatted with his brothers stirred something within him. Something that he wanted to grab with both hands and hold close.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the moment you turned to him, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that sent a shiver down his spine. “What do you think?” You asked. “Suitable enough?” 

Hunter blinks once, twice, and then nods. “Sure, sounds good.” He answers, having no idea what you’d been asking about. As you turned back to face the others at the table, Hunter caught the knowing look Tech sent him. Try as he might to hide that ache in his chest, his brother was too smart to miss it.

“Ya can’t send that!” Wrecker protests, mild panic in his eyes as Crosshair, eternal torturer of his siblings, grins at his brother as he pushes the send button. “Ahh, I don’t wanna know if he responds.” Wrecker shakes his head, though a smile also tugs at the corners of his lips. He turns his head towards you. “You’re next.”

Reaching for the stack of cards in the middle of the table, you pry the top one free and pull it towards you. You scan over the instructions, grimacing. “Name five different places you’ve had sex or take three shots.” You read it aloud, tossing the card down onto the table.

Beside you, you feel Hunter shift, Wrecker and Crosshair break into laughter, and Tech offers you a sympathetic smile. With a resigned sigh, you reach for your glass. But before you can grasp it, it’s snatched away from you. 

“Cross!” You gasp, jaw slackening as you watch mischief dance in the sniper’s hawkish eyes. 

“You’ve skipped out on nearly every ‘do’ task tonight. But you’re not skipping this one.” Crosshair insists, dragging your drink away so you can’t take it back. His motives were two-fold. One, he was nosey. And two, he wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the way Hunter had been looking at you for months now, and watching his older brother squirm as you shared your sex life would be fantastic. 

With a huff, you cross your arms over your chest, resting your elbows on the table. “Is your sex life so bland you have to live vicariously through mine?” You tease, arching an eyebrow. Boisterous laughter erupts at the table, and you can’t help but giggle along. 

Crosshair scowls. “Please. I could have any woman in this place.” He snorts, leaning in and lifting a hand with his five fingers up. “Five places. I’ll count them off for you.” He challenges.

“Nu-uh.” You refute, unfurling an arm to wag a finger at him.

“Only kriff in a bed then. How boring.” He can’t help but bite back, turning the tide onto you.

Rolling your eyes, you huff, used to this song and dance with him. “No.”

“Out with it, then.” He pushes.

Worry curls through you. You trusted these men with your life, knew that their teasing was all light-hearted and they’d never genuinely mock you, but some things were private. “Cross…” You mumble, fingers finding the neckline of your shirt to play with the fabric nervously. 

“Pretty little thing like you probably has many stories to tell!” Wrecker laughs, giving your shoulder a light nudge.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to make up some stories on the spot, ones you can quickly sell, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Curiosity painted itself on Tech’s face – he’d spent long enough studying your body language to aid him in understanding nat-born social cues, to pick up on the subtleties. “You do not have any stories.” He states, with no judgement in his tone.

The certainty of Tech’s comment captures Hunter’s attention, and he tilts his head in your direction, brown eyes taking in the nervousness and mild panic that’s now on your face.

“Don’t tell me you’re a kriffing virgin…” Crosshair is equal parts horrified and amused. There was no way in hell you – you – hadn’t been with anyone.

Embarrassment seeps through you, and you drop your gaze to the table, fingers going back to trace the patterns of the wooden surface. 

Crosshair couldn’t believe it; this was wilder than any other confession they had shared during the night. “You’re kidding me…even Tech’s been laid a handful of times, and you haven’t?”

Tech sighs at his twin’s barb, though he’s used to them by now and doesn’t take it to heart.

At your silence, the boys share a glance, trying to hide their surprise at the situation. 

Mulling it over, Crosshair looks around the bar. “Plenty of pickings in here. Then again…Regs.” He sneers.

“I don’t want a random hookup. I want the right one.” You admit quietly, shyness taking a front-row seat.

Crosshair baulks. “Oh, hell. You want romance and love.” The idea horrifies him even more. He goes to speak again, but Hunter interjects.

“Crosshair…” Hunter warns, voice low. He’d picked up on your discomfort and wanted to end it.

A smirk tilts Crosshair’s lips at the reprimand. He’d opted not to say anything or show his hand in the past, keeping his knowledge about Hunter’s affection for you quiet. “Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh.” He teases with a toothy grin, unleashing that hand.

Tech and Wrecker can’t hide their snorts of laughter at his words. Hunter’s lips press together, and he huffs, reaching for a card to bring the focus back to the game and off you. Crosshair’s dark chuckle seeps into the air, delighted at getting a small rise from his older brother.

The Mando’a catches you off guard – you didn’t know enough to understand what had been said, but the laughter and Hunter’s reaction had you frowning. The boys had only taught you the odd word or two as they didn’t use it as much anymore.  As Hunter pries his card from the pile and flips it over, he places his hand back on your knee under the table, reassuringly squeezing it. Reaching down, you give his wrist a light squeeze, appreciating that he’d taken the heat off you. His hand stays in place as he reads the card aloud, and the game continues. 

Your shore leave had been a welcome reprieve, especially as six back-to-back missions had followed it. You’d wrapped up the latest hours ago, and the Senator you’d helped had been exceptionally grateful for the assistance. He’d offered for you all to stay on the planet for a little while to rest in one of his many hotels. A quick comm to Command had seen it okayed for two days, so here you were, hanging out on the balcony of Hunter’s suite.

You’d accidentally discovered that you had connecting rooms, having knocked on a random door in your suite and been amused to find Hunter on the other side when it had opened. He’d immediately invited you in, and you’d headed for the balcony to watch the city go by while he finished the last report. Crosshair and Wrecker had gone off searching for food, while Tech had decided to tinker with his latest project.

Leaning against the railing, laughter from down below captures your attention. Eyes falling to where the sound was coming from, you watch a couple embrace on the side of the street, sharing lingering kisses. From your vantage point, you can make out their broad smiles.

An ache settles in your chest, that old pesky feeling of yearning tugging at you. Unconsciously, you tug your cardigan around you a little tighter – whether to keep out the chill in the wind or offer some comfort, you don’t know.

In the suite, and with the reports finished, Hunter pauses at the doorway, unable to pry his eyes off you. Something about how you’re standing, the expression on your beautiful face, makes unease sink into his gut. He wants to chase away whatever is making you look so sad.

It was becoming harder and harder for him to ignore his feelings, to tamper them down, especially as he knew his brothers were all aware. How long would it be before you picked up on it, too? That blasted night at 79’s kept replaying in his mind, his fingers itching to reach for you at every opportunity and to make a move before someone else snapped you up and took you from him. Hunter knows he doesn’t have much he can give you and can’t promise a safe or long life together – anything can happen in a war – but he knows he can provide you with romance. He knows he can make you the centre of his galaxy, and you’ll never have to question his devotion.

But would you want that from him, though? It was the one thought that stopped him.

Realising he’d been watching for a while, Hunter joins you on the balcony, moving to your side. You don’t startle; you’re used to him and his brothers silently approaching by now. He follows your focused gaze, watching a couple on the street share kisses before flagging down a taxi. “They look happy.” He comments quietly, wondering if that was the cause of your sadness.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, wondering for a moment longer what it would be like to be so carefree and in love. Before falling too far down the ash-rabbit hole, you focus on the man at your side. “Plans for the evening?” You ask, changing the subject while hoping to lighten your mood.

Not wanting to push, Hunter lets it go and instead lifts a hand to count off each element of his plan on his fingers. “Room service, a holodrama, and sleep.”

“Okay there, Grandpa.” You tease, the wind whipping around you a little more as you break out into a smile.

Hunter’s pretty sure your smile could end this war if you turned it on the right people. With a fond shake of his head, he chuckles. Unable to help himself just this once, he reaches out and gently tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

The action makes you pause, smile faltering, lips parting slightly in surprise. For a moment, you look at one another, the air seeming to crackle with something. Hunter had always been soft with you, but he’d been even more attentive since the night at 79’s.

“Join me?” He asks, not willing to let you go just yet.

“Sure.” You reply with a soft smile, not even needing a moment to think about it, and Hunter leads the way back into the suite. The balcony door closes behind you, muffling the sounds of the bustling city outside.

You settle onto the couch and Hunter orders room service. As you wait for the food to arrive, you fall into easy conversation, discussing missions, the state of the galaxy, and anything else that comes to mind.

The food doesn’t take long to arrive, the aroma filling the room, and you both enjoy a quiet dinner. Between you, you select a holodrama that turns out to be surprisingly entertaining. But as it progresses, you find yourself drawn to Hunter’s presence. His arm casually rests against the back of the couch, not quite touching you but close enough to send a shiver down your spine. A fluttery feeling erupts in your belly as your brain helpfully supplies that this kind of thing always happens in the trashy romance novels that clog up your datapad.

Nearing the end of the holodrama, a feather-light touch brushes against the nape of your neck and you instinctively lean into it. Hunter’s fingers trace gentle circles, and you feel a warmth spreading through you. Glancing towards him, you find his gaze fixed on you.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand slightly.

“No, it’s... nice.” You respond, surprising yourself with the admission. Hunter’s hand returns and the soft touch continues.

Hunter is at war with himself – if there was ever a time to make a move, it would be now. His senses are on overdrive, homed in on you, picking up every errant breath you take, the heavy thud of your heart, and your soft swallows.

The weight of the moment sits, the holodrama becoming background noise as you witness the conflict in Hunter’s gaze. It doesn’t last long, though, and the subtle touch on your neck becomes bolder, his hand shifting around to cup your cheek as his thumb brushes against your lower lip.

Inexperience makes you nervous, heart thumping wildly. You go to dip your head to break the eye contact, but Hunter’s pointer finger hooks under your chin to stop the movement.

He leans in slowly, closing the distance between you, giving you time to pull away if you’re uncomfortable. But you don’t. You remain still, those pretty eyes of yours focused on him even as your heart rate spikes and your breaths turn a little shallower with anticipation. “Cyar’ika…” He murmurs, a hair’s breadth away from you, gaze dropping momentarily to your lips.

The flood of feelings instead of you is overwhelming - excitement and nervousness, worry and anticipation. It’s hard to single each one out. You’d been telling the truth in 79’s - you were indeed waiting for the right man - but you’d omitted that you were sure it was the man now sat at your side, letting you decide whether to push your friendship into something more.

You lean in ever so slightly, and finally, his lips brush against yours in a tentative, exploratory kiss. It’s soft and sweet, testing the waters. Your eyes flutter closed, savouring the warmth that spreads through you.

The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, and you respond eagerly. The taste of him, the feel of his hand on your cheek, it’s much more than you expected.

Hunter’s other hand moves between you and the couch, resting on the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers intertwining with the fabric of his shirt as he draws you onto his lap.

Breaking the kiss, Hunter pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he finds his desire mirrored. “You okay?” He double-checks quietly, his breath mingling with yours.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “More than okay.”

Hunter grins, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Good.” He whispers before capturing your lips in another kiss, the intensity growing between you. The holodrama plays on, completely forgotten, as you lose yourselves in the moment.

The touch of his lips and the warmth of his embrace all feel right. Hunter’s hands explore your back, and you feel the gentle press of his fingers as they slide under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine. Eventually, you both pull back, foreheads resting against each other as you catch your breath. The air is charged with electric energy, and the room feels warm.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Hunter admits, his voice a low, smoky murmur, but conflict shines in his eyes. “I can’t give you the things any other man could. There’s no guarantee of tomorrow. I know it’s not right an-“

You meet his gaze, feeling warmth in your cheeks. “It is right.” You cut him off softly, breaking eye contact, focusing instead on the slight hollow of his throat as nervousness sweeps through you. “This... with you, it feels right.” You confess quietly.

Delight simmers in Hunter’s veins, and his fingers trace patterns on your back. He still feels guilty, but if this is what you want, and you’re sure it’s right, then who is he to protest? Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he smiles. “Then I’ll do everything I can to ensure you always feel that way.”

Your fingers find his chest, the buttery softness of his shirt doing nothing to conceal the firm muscles beneath it. A slight hum of contentment slides from him as you brush your fingers up and down his sternum. The nerves are back, your eyes flitting up to gaze at him, noting how his own are closed and contentment is painted across his face.

On your next stroke down, your fingers dip slightly lower, catching the first few ridges of his abs. A deep rumble vibrates his chest, giving you courage. Head tilting down to watch your actions, your heart pounds as your fingers skirt close to the hem of his shirt – and the waistband of his pants. A tattooed hand wraps around your wrist, stilling your motions, and you look up from under your lashes.

Meeting your gaze, Hunter’s thumb rubs small circles on your pulse point. “Feels good, cyar’ika. But there’s no rush.”

“I know, but…” You trail off for a moment, averting your gaze. “I want this. I want you.” You confess quietly, feeling warmth return to your cheeks as you chance a glance at him. “I’m tired of waiting, and I-I want you to be my first…”

Hunter was a good man, a strong man, but hell if he didn’t crumble at your confession. His fingers find your face, tilting your head upwards so he can look at you properly. He was touched by your admittance but didn’t want you to regret anything. “Promise me?” He asks gently, knowing how much value you placed on promises.

Meeting warm brown eyes, you couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed your lips. You were nervous, yes, but this felt right. “I promise.”

Leaning in, Hunter’s lips capture yours in a heated kiss. His hands shift, moving to cup your ass, and he lifts you up as he stands. The small noise of surprise you let out and how you grasp at him for stability draws a deep chuckle from him, though the sound is muffled by the kiss. It’s only a few steps over to the bed, and as he lowers you down gently onto the plush surface, he follows, hands smoothing across your hips as he rests a little of his weight against you.

Lips trailing from yours, he drags kisses across your cheek and down to your jawline, following the curve of your throat, giving a light nip as he reaches the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet. How your hips buck at the contact, breath catching, clues him in to how much you enjoy it. Your hands shift down Hunter’s body, and he can feel the nervousness rolling off you. Propping himself up above you with one hand, he uses the other to guide your hands towards his body, encouraging you to touch him in return. “There’s no reason to be nervous. We only do what you’re comfortable with.” He tells you, wanting to make that abundantly clear. “And we can stop anytime.”

You nod, chest rising and falling with each quick breath as your hands meet Hunter’s body. Encouraged, you explore the ridges and planes of him, fingers smoothing over him before gripping his narrow waist. His mouth is back on you, dragging across your throat, pulling soft noises from your lips as you familiarise yourself with the man above you. As your hands shift, a flash of courage rips through you, and you reach down, one hand landing squarely on his ass, giving the firm muscle a soft squeeze.

Hunter startles, not expecting the action, and warm puffs of his breath fan across your neck as he chuckles. “Cheeky.” He murmurs against your skin, the vibration of his laughter sending pleasant shivers down your spine. The atmosphere in the room is charged with a mix of desire and nervous excitement as you continue to explore each other.

Hands pull at clothes, material discarded, fluttering to the hotel room floor as acres of skin are revealed. You’re warm to the touch, the earlier chill from the balcony chased away by Hunter’s hands. Self-consciousness creeps through you as your underwear is cast aside, thighs pressing together to try and hide yourself.

“Cyar’ika…” Hunter tuts, strong hands moving down your body until he can rub and squeeze at your thighs. “Don’t hide from me. Wanna see all of you.” He murmurs, kisses trailing down your body. Tongue gliding across your breasts, he draws a nipple into his mouth, the corners of his lips curling upward as you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Pleasure rolls through you as you tug gently at Hunter’s brown curls, back arching to press more of yourself against him. He’s warm against you, bronze skin and dark ink pressed as close as possible, and it’s difficult to ignore the weight of his half-hard cock against your thigh.

Switching his focus to your other nipple, Hunter lavishes it with the same attention before he starts to creep back down your body. “Wanna taste you.” He breathes against your stomach, lips drawing across soft skin, fingers teasing your thighs. “Make you feel good.” He adds, pausing to glance up the length of you, finding your eyes focused on him. He can see your trepidation but also your burning curiosity and desire. “No one’s done that for you, have they?” He asks with no judgement.

Embarrassment burns through you, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you shake your head.

Hunter’s heart aches. How had no one loved on you before? Their loss was his gain, he supposed. “That’s okay.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to the juncture where your thigh and hip meet. “Only if you want.” The reminder is gentle, fingers skirting back up your body to not put pressure on your decision.

You know you could say no, and that would be the end of it, but you’d seen many women enjoying it on the holonet, and they certainly seemed to like it in the novels you vicariously consumed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. “Please.” You push out the word, embarrassment still sitting in your chest, though it evaporates when you meet Hunter’s hungry gaze.

He hadn’t been expecting your agreement, content to work you up in other ways, but that soft little plea from your lips sent fire through his veins. Hands finding your thighs once more, Hunter slowly pushes them apart. “A little wider, baby.” He encourages, a deep groan vibrating in his chest as you follow his order, and he shifts to lay between your thighs, greeted with the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen. Dropping soft kisses to your inner thigh, his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Eyes flitting up to gauge how you’re faring, his cock twitches where it’s trapped between his body and the mattress as he catches you watching him. Holding your gaze, he leans forward, nose pressing against you as he inhales, committing the intimate scent of you to memory.

He starts slow, a gentle press of his tongue against your entrance, dragging it up through your folds until his tongue flicks over your clit. You jolt, letting out a small keening noise that he’s desperate to hear again.

Spurred on, kitten licks accompany broad, sweeping tastes, soft open-mouthed kisses dropped against heated flesh as Hunter closes his eyes and focuses on bringing you pleasure. His tongue drags across your clit again, and he grunts as your fingers, tangled in his hair, try to drag his face impossibly closer.

You’d watched for as long as you could, engraving the sight of Hunter between your thighs into your mind. Head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut, warmth coils through you. Letting out low whimpers and quiet gasps, your hips rock, chasing the pleasure he’s so beautifully giving you. Now you understood the fuss, why all those women on the holonet and in the novels adored this.

Lips wrap around your clit, and your grip on Hunter’s hair tightens as the pleasure curling through your body climbs, the light suction and the rapid flick of his tongue across the sensitive bud pushing you ever closer to the edge. The warm wetness of his mouth was better than anything you’d ever been able to achieve with your fingers.

“Hunter.” You moan out his name, enjoying the groan he lets out in response. One of his hands slides up the bed, fingers interlacing with those on your free hand as he doubles-down his efforts.

Most of the time, Hunter considers his heightened senses a curse rather than a blessing, but right now, with the scent of you in his lungs, the taste of you on his tongue, and his name falling from your lips like a prayer, he’s never been more grateful for them. Tuning into your body, to every thud of your heart, every sharp inhale, and the little whines you let out, he uses them to guide him until you’re close, teetering on the edge.

Two fingers enter the mix, pressing against your entrance, slipping in with ease as Hunter laves kisses and licks across your folds. His lips find your clit again, applying light suction as he crooks his fingers right against that sweet little spot.

Caught off guard, you come with a cry, the noise echoing in the room as the pleasure that had been building crashes into you. Thigh’s quivering, tiny trembles coast through your body as you pant through the high, body going pliant as your release works out of your system.

Enraptured, the pride Hunter feels is undeniable as he pries his fingers from your pussy, sliding them into his mouth to clean them off and savour the taste of you even more.

Staring up at the ceiling as you drag your breathing under control, a small snort of laughter escapes you. “Oh, stars, you can do that again whenever you want.” You vow quietly, enjoying Hunter’s chuckle as he shifts back over you, capturing your lips for a deep kiss, the tang of you lingering in his mouth.

As Hunter pulls back, he rests on his knees between your thighs, soaking up the sight of you naked. He still can’t believe this is happening, that you’d chosen him.

Your gaze travels over his body – broad shoulders, firm chest, defined abs. He was gorgeous enough to be a carved statue in a fancy Naboo garden. Eyes roaming lower, you swallow at the sight of his cock. Hard and flushed, it twitches with his heartbeat, girthier than you’d expected.

“It’ll fit.” Hunter can’t resist teasing, tattooed hand shifting down so he can give himself a few lazy strokes. The way you watch the movement gives him ideas for the future. “Still want this, love?” He checks in.

Your earlier nervousness is still there, but it’s smothered by anticipation. Eyes flitting up, you meet Hunter’s gaze, parting your thighs just that little bit more.

Delight flares in Hunter’s eyes, and he moves to rest back over you, one hand supporting his weight as the other stays wrapped around his dick. Holding your gaze, he drags the velvety head between your slick folds, enjoying the way your breath stutters as he brushes against your clit.

“I’ve got you, princess.” He coos, lining up before pressing forward. “Doing so well.” Hunter praises, focused on your face and your body’s reaction as he bottoms out, hips flush to yours.

The sensation is unlike anything you’d experienced before. The stretch burns slightly but gives way quickly to pleasure as he feeds the last inch of his cock into your heat. Love and adoration weave through you, that earlier sense of rightness rearing its head as you squirm a little beneath him.

Hunter’s now free hand drops to your hip, grip firm as he holds you still. “Just…give me a second.” He murmurs, voice strained as his eyes close. “Been dreaming about this for a long time, and if I don’t take a few breaths here, I’m gonna kriffing embarrass myself.”

The revelation that he’s dreamt of this moment makes you involuntarily clench around him.

“Not helping…” He growls quietly, words lacking any bite. You feel like heaven, like everything he’s ever wanted and desired.

Mirth dances in your eyes as you lift a hand to trace along his inked jawline, still unable to comprehend that he wants you and that he’s buried inside you, the two of you connected in the most intimate of ways.

Dark eyes snap open at the contact, and Hunter takes you in, soaks in the sight of you sprawled underneath him, hair fanned on the pillow, lips plush from kisses and eyes still a little hazy from your orgasm. “Kriff, baby. I love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. They don’t get to have you, but I do.” He rasps, letting the last fragments of his feelings for you eke out of the box he’d kept them locked away in for far too long. “Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans.

Hand leaving your hip, Hunter tilts your head back up as he sees it start to dip down. “Don’t go getting shy on me now.” He whispers. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He slowly draws his hips back, watching as your lips part and the sweetest sound slides from between them as he pushes himself back inside. Hunter takes his time, building up the pace, focusing on every noise you make, every shift of your body, every flutter of your heart.

With every roll of Hunter’s hips, that earlier pleasure starts to build again. Hands grasp at his sweat-dampened shoulders, providing leverage as you move with him, the harsh sounds of your breaths filling the room alongside the noise of your bodies meeting. The air feels hot, matching the heat inside you as Hunter’s lips crash against yours, devouring you. A whine escapes you as his tongue presses forward, tasting you. It’s unrefined and needy, his usual self-control long thrown out of the hotel room window.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. You can give me one more. I know you can.” Hunter whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to slide his free hand between your bodies, thrusts never faltering. Dragging his lips across your jaw, he peppers kisses down your throat as his fingers circle over your clit once, twice, and on the third round, he nips at your throat.

The building pleasure slams into you, tipping over into ecstasy as you cry out his name, back arching, and body clenching around him as the high washes through you. Panting for breath, nails digging into Hunter’s shoulders, you coast through the feeling, small shakes rocking your body as Hunter’s hips snap against yours a little roughly.

The way you’d tightened around him, the sound of you crying out his name in the throes of pleasure, it was all too much for Hunter. “Kriff, cyar’ika. Where?” He asks between ragged breaths, thrusts sloppy as he closes in on his own climax.

It’s probably a stupid idea and could go very wrong, but it’s the first one that comes to mind. And you’re desperate to experience it. “In me. Come in me. Please.” You insist.

Hunter crumbles for the second time this evening, unable to deny you anything, consequences be damned. A few more rough thrusts and he’s growling out your name, pressing himself into you as deep as he can get, lips finding yours for a passionate kiss as he finds his own release, cock twitching as he fills you.

His hips slow to a stop, and your kiss turns softer and more reverent as the haze of lust dissipates. Hands stroke across each other’s bodies reverently, lips parting as Hunter mouthes down your throat to the spot he’d nipped earlier, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin. He sucks lightly, just to leave the slightest mark, so faint that unless someone was standing right beside you, they wouldn’t see it.

Contentment curls through you, hand brushing Hunter’s hair, fingers snagging on his bandana. Feeling cheeky, you pry it off, wrapping it around your wrist, enjoying how his eyes darken.

“Playin’ with fire again, cyar’ika.” Hunter murmurs, lips moving up to ghost across the shell of your ear.

A smile paints itself on your lips. “If that was me getting burned, then tie me to a stake and call me a Nightsister.”

Hunter’s whole body shakes with his laughter, amusement shining in his pretty brown eyes. “Oh, one day I’ll tie you to something, don’t worry about that.” He vows.

A thrill shoots through you, your own laughter joining his. As it fizzles out and the room falls silent, you’re left staring into each other’s eyes.

“How’d you feel?” Hunter asks, slowly shifting you both down onto your sides. The movement has him slipping from you, and you wince a little. Hunter’s arms loop around you, drawing you close.

“Loved.” You answer honestly.

“Good.” Hunter smooths a hand across your hair, pushing it back from your face. He captures your lips for another soft kiss. “Because you are.” He shares as the kiss breaks.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks again. He was getting too good at pulling this reaction from you. “As are you.” You reply, wanting to ensure he understands how much you care for him in return.

Hunter’s smile is blinding as he draws you closer, suffocating the space between you, tucking you safely under his chin. Burying his nose in your hair, he inhales deeply, picking up on your combined scent.

As the night draws on, the two of you lay entwined, finding comfort in the shared warmth of your bodies. The soft glow of the cityscape filters through the window, casting a gentle illumination in the room as you share quiet conversations.

As sleep begins to claim you both, you whisper a quiet promise into the stillness of the night. “No matter where the stars take us, I want to be with you.”

Hunter holds you a little tighter, kissing your forehead in silent agreement. Together, you drift into dreams, wrapped in the warmth of love and the certainty that, no matter what challenges awaited, you would face them together.

[imdead770]

The Outsiders x Reader fluff - Steve Randle

Authors Note - I think this man gets slept on way too much. I don't know his character too well, but enjoy.

Steve Randle -

▪︎ Let's start with the basics

▪︎ He has the guts to ask you out, yeah, but his ego is too fucking big to allow that

▪︎ He spent weeks trying to figure out how to ask you out

▪︎ Eventually landed on the classic "take them out as friends but we all know it's not as friends" date

▪︎ Asked you to go to some diner with him

▪︎ Literally said "It's a date", completely forgetting his plan

▪︎ Still worked though, win-win.

▪︎ Wore his basic jean vest, but he put on a cleaner t-shirt and his best pair of jeans

▪︎ Looked in the mirror for a bit either hyping himself up or admiring himself 💀

▪︎ Actually showered for once

▪︎ When he saw you he nearly passed out

▪︎ Here he was in a jean vest and you looked ready to be on the cover of vogue

▪︎ You both just talked the whole time

▪︎ He was way too hyped up to be nervous, so it was actually laid back and fun

▪︎ Really shitty jokes

▪︎ You both shared a milkshake, probably shared chocolate cake too

▪︎ Whenever you went back home and you kissed him on the cheek he almost ate dirt again

▪︎ Told the whole gang about it

" We shared a shake Soda, that ain't somethin' just anyone does "

" It's been two hours, Steve.. "

" Ya shoulda seen 'em! I mean- "

▪︎ Once you two started seeing each other more often, you sort of just stayed as best friends but added some perks

▪︎ Really shit inside jokes and really comfortable around each other + kissing and touching

▪︎ Whenever he finally worked up the guts to kiss you he almost broke your nose

▪︎ You were both laughing too hard to actually kiss

▪︎ Whenever you finally shut up it was a really good kiss though

▪︎ You know how Johnny moved down on Dal's leaderboard?

▪︎ On Steve's ranks he moved down cars and chocolate cake for you

▪︎ That's saying something

▪︎ Not a lot of pet names, some basic ones though

▪︎ Baby, babe, darlin'

▪︎ Probably some sweetheart scattered in there if he feels like it

▪︎ Spends an ass ton of time with you

▪︎ I feel like quality time would be one of his love languages?? I don't really know, I just think it fits him

▪︎ Whenever the gang has their own shit and he's done at DX he just hangs out with you

▪︎ Considers anything and everything a date.

▪︎ HIS TATTOO??

▪︎ You getting bored so you start tracing the outline of his tattoo, not even realizing how many butterflies you're giving him

▪︎ If you get cold he offers you his vest, completely forgetting its a fucking vest

" God it's cold.. "

" Ya' want my jacket? "

" .. that's not a jacket- "

" It's real' warm, I swear! "

▪︎ Doesn't do shit but you wear it to make him happy

▪︎ Always has his arm either around your shoulders or on your thigh

▪︎ I think he's actually pretty affectionate?

▪︎ Not in public, gotta be tuff, but in private he'll just hold you

▪︎ No reason, he just likes holding you

▪︎ Let's you touch the swirls in his hair or run your fingers through the longer pieces in the back

▪︎ Practically melts everytime you do so

▪︎ Always tells you stories about DX

" So I was tryna fix an engine when a possum just flew outta' nowhere! I swear, it was like it was sent from God or somethin'. Hada' get a rabies shot that day. "

▪︎ Suprisingly good with hair?? Not just good at it, he's obsessed with playing with your hair.

▪︎ You could be in the middle of an equation an he'll be twirling your hair around his fingers or braiding it.

▪︎ Either really quick kisses or deep makeout sessions, no in-between

▪︎ Always smells like gasoline and some weird cologne

▪︎ The thing is he doesn't wear cologne?

▪︎ You and the gang have played guessing games trying to figure out where the cheap cologne smell is coming from

▪︎ He's basically a sweeter Dallas

▪︎ Like he's tough and acts tough but he'll hold you in public he doesn't really care

▪︎ He's a dumbass but he's sweet

▪︎ 👍

[delphi-shield]

Close in the Distance // Poly Drabbles

multichara x gn!reader wc: ~1650 characters included: jill, leon, chris, claire, rebecca, carlos, ada pairings highlighted: jill & leon, jill/claire, jill/chris, jill/carlos, chris/leon, chris/rebecca, leon/ada, leon/claire ada refers to the reader as gorgeous but i consider that a pretty gender neutral expression, ymmv. i'm kind of throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks with this, but i hope you enjoy it! i know i had fun writing it. i'm gonna go see fnaf and play splatoon until my eyes bleed lmao

Ada & Leon

Ada runs just as easily as she pulls you down to her bed. Leon leaves you with much more reluctance, but he leaves all the same. The note he leaves pinned to the fridge with a fish-shaped magnet from your last vacation (Roatán, blissfully uninterrupted by Leon’s work. Ada’s shadow darkened your doorstep two days before your flight home. She arrived in the night; you think you dreamt her arrival, her muted argument with Leon, but when you wake it’s with her arm draped across your waist. "Stay put, gorgeous," she tells you, her voice a sleep-addled rasp at your ear, "Leon's getting breakfast.") dripping with remorse and guilt.

On a rare reunion, you slip away to give them time to themselves and Ada reels you back in with an arm around your waist, tucking you securely between the two of them. They race for the same cheesy joke just to hear you laugh and exchange warm glances over your shoulder. You pray one day you will wake and they will both be there. You pray that one day you stop collecting the pieces they leave behind to remember them by.

Claire & Leon

Claire and Leon are in and out of each other's lives so often that you could tell time by it. Thanksgiving together and Christmas apart, a New Year's reunion obfuscated by the fizzle of fireworks overhead. Claire holds your hand in the crowd, Leon’s hand at the small of her back to guide the both of you. She leans close to be heard over the cheering of the crowd, promising to kiss you first at midnight. Leon doesn’t seem to hear, but he spins you away from her when the clock hits midnight, stealing the first kiss of the year, smiling against your lips as Claire whines and smacks his arm.

Days later, Leon tells you, "we're both in the doghouse now," when you come home to an argument and refuse to pick a side. Centrism is the biggest crime of them all to Claire, and Leon’s apologies are in short supply. You fall asleep with him on the couch, and when you wake with a pillow under your head and Claire’s humming drifting from the kitchen, you know that you are absolved.

Chris & Leon

Chris and Leon thought this arrangement was fine until their own unresolved feelings bubbled to the surface, their entire friendship recontextualized in the span of seconds over cheap beer. You lean against Chris’ shoulder, watching the gears in Leon’s head turning. A realization years in the making happens in the span of minutes for you, and it takes only a little bit of careful probing to understand that it’s mutual. 

They both drag their feet, men who know how easy it is to wreck something as fragile as this, neither willing for their hands to be the ones that break this time. To be direct is to be dismissed. Chris brushes off assurances that you don’t mind and Leon has told you in no uncertain terms to drop it. You feign tiredness one night and slip away, leave them to themselves, and like clockwork, they ask to speak with you about something the following week. Smug is an understatement. Your playful ribbing is worth putting up with if it means the three of you can move forward together - even if it means the porch swing is a little more cramped from now on.

"Don't let that one go," Chris teases, his eyes squinting in a smile.

"I don't think I can," Leon says. He means it to be a joke about the way you cling to his arm, but his voice too soft, too enamored for the intended effect, his eyes too warm.

Jill & Leon

Jill and Leon see too much of themselves in each other to ever understand the appeal, but god, do they love you. For a long time they operated on separate schedules. You had called it a custody arrangement once, a joke that you came to regret with every fiber of your being because the both of them had latched onto it and neither of them know how to let a joke die with dignity. The first sign of change is a text from Jill, sent at three in the morning (a difference in timezones she didn’t bother to calculate, you’re sure). An offer, their stupid custody joke to break the ice -  I know it’s your weekend, but that movie they want to see is coming out Saturday and I’ll be stateside. Do you mind if we go? You can come too.

It hadn’t been a good movie, some forgettable action movie you had laughed about all the way home, but ever since that night they had been more open to nights together. That’s how you wound up with your legs over Leon’s lap, your head against Jill’s thigh, Leon’s thumb tracing a lazy pattern against your ankle and Jill’s fingers carding gently through your hair. Their hands meet in the bowl of popcorn and Jill relents. Leon insists, no, after you, his tone as dramatic as the sweep of his hand. You can envision the way Jill rolls her eyes without picking your head up, and before they can devolve into a familiar back and forth, you chime in sleepily. "What, are you guys five? If you were going to get cooties, you’d get it from me."

Jill & Chris

“Wrong side,” Jill reminds you, indicating to her own ear. She doesn’t even need to look up from her breakfast. You click your tongue and move to Chris’ left instead, repeating your question louder, clearer. They move so fluidly around each other, nearly two decades of trust informing every word, every look, every action. At times it feels like they inhabit the same body. It's all you can do to try and fall in step with them. They make space, slow their pace, guide you where they have to. Chris is ever the worrier, but it’s Jill who watches you like a hawk when the three of you are out, who grips your wrist loosely and nudges you up with them, never letting you fall behind. Unhurried time together is short on supply, but you cherish every moment of quiet, every laugh, every old story they have to explain to you, you cherish the hurt and the pain, the grief that they try to borrow from each other, all the things they would rather forget yet choose to trust you with.

Jill & Claire

Jill is an expert in handling Redfields, but she can take them apart just as easily. She says she’ll teach you one day. A well-placed ‘got it out of your system’ during an argument starts Claire’s rant all over again. A hand at the nape of her neck, curling her into Jill’s side to calm her. Jill’s methods are effective, but they’re hers. You weave your own way between them, fingers interlocking with Claire’s, palm flat against Jill’s, the way each of them prefer. Jill will drink her coffee anyway she gets it, things like preferences and personal taste feeling like an afterthought to her after so long of nothing but survival, but you see the scrunch of her nose when it’s too dark, too bitter. You slip sugars and cream one cup at a time until you find the perfect blend, and it doesn’t take Claire much longer to catch on to your discovery. There was peace before, and there can be peace again.

Jill & Carlos

"Not that one," you tell Jill, swatting her hands away as she tries to pack one of your many stuffed animals up, the small army having taken over most of the bed. "Carlos got me that one." Jill rolls her eyes, muttering that they're all from Carlos. His absence is filled with plush toys, cheap, soft substitutes for his presence - but at least he tries to fill the void. Jill becomes a ghost when she's away for work, insisting her silence is for your benefit. She comes back to you battered, vacant, and she asks you what you've been up to as if she might fill herself with your memories instead.

If it weren’t for Carlos, you would have no idea how she’s really doing. He has her back, he assures you, and you wonder if he’s reminding himself as well, if the distance she forces (for your own good, she repeats, her tone firmer) bothers him as much as it bothers you. Pulling her back to you isn’t always easy, but Carlos is a steady presence at your side. His gifts for Jill are fewer and farther between - Jill told him to cool it, by his own admission - but you notice as she thins out the stuffed animal militia, she leaves the dog plushie he had gotten her right where it is.

Chris & Rebecca

Rebecca drags you through the aisles of a department store, stuffing colorful paper decorations into the cart you push. Chris is coming home - properly coming home, not just a quick stopover between flights. Rebecca wants to surprise him, and you worry he’ll be too tired. You worry his assignment took a turn for the worse, that the last thing he needs is a fuss when he’s barely had time to process the aftermath. Rebecca assures you it’s fine. She insists she wouldn’t be doing this if everything hadn’t gone well. You reach for the pink and blue streamers on the top shelf, dropping them with the mish-mash of other supplies in the cart as she tells you more and more about the assignment. “I think that’s supposed to be classified, Becca,” you remind her. She shushes you, a finger pressed to her lips. You make a detour to pick up a case of beer, making a bet with Rebecca on how long it will take Chris to ask for a cold one. Chris arrives on time for once, no delayed flights, a blissfully short debriefing at base. He drops his duffle bag the second the door is shut, eyes cutting to the fridge. His arm winds around your shoulders, tugging you into a hug. 

“Guess you missed me,” he says, taking in the decorations. Rebecca patters in from the kitchen, spreading her arms wide to gesture at the apartment, transformed briefly into a discount Party City. He’s tired, it’s clear, but he laughs all the same. It only takes five minutes - as you predicted, shooting a successful smirk at Rebecca - for him to ask, “Hey, any beer in the fridge?”

[thenixkat]

Mundane AU!Laios thoughts

Note:

Probably contains spoilers

Mundane au= no magic and no fantasy 'races' (like... little people are a thing, they exist in reality, some people just have dwarfism. The elves are just skinny racist and xenophobic Europeans like? And there's already parralells made with the demi humans so if I do anything the orcs are Afro Native and Kobolds are somewhere African or Arab. And for the ogres... gigantism is a thing that exists in real like and totally a teen girl would just wear some horns.)

Thoughts:

The Toudens are European-born. From somewhere cold as hell, really isolated and conservative, that's close to some mountains, that's racist towards the local indigenous people.

(The sibs, but especially Laios got chewed out about some shit and has been trying to be better, slips up every now and then but takes criticism well so long as folks tell him what he did/said wrong).

Local weird kids put off vibes that the rest of the village didn't like, Laios and Falin grew up bullied and ostracized. Falin got sent off to schooling in the big city and later to a university in Italy where she met Marcille.

Laios dropped out of high school and joined the military as soon as he was able to b/c he wanted to get the hell out of dodge. Served for a few shitty years b4 just... deserting and backpacking across Europe just straight up homeless and working whatever odd jobs he could find. Man was going through it. Wound up in the same city where Falin was studying at a university in and decided to visit her. She took one look at him and refused to let him just go back to what he was doing, so Laios started couch surfing with her (very much against dorm rules but he looked terrible and Falin wasn't about to let anyone stop her from making sure her brother has a roof over his head and food).

Eventually, she takes him with her when she does a work-study in the USA for her ecology degree and they ended up staying/Falin kinda maybe sorta dropped out and got a job with a vet near where she was doing her work-study.

Laios and Falin are technically illegal immigrants but they're white so no one really questions their citizenship (their working on getting citizenship/papers)

Laios gets a GED. Does some self-study from Falin's textbooks and online stuff but that's about it for his schooling.

Laios definitely, like, lives in Falin's basement. Falin is the primary breadwinner in this household, Laios is aware of this and has learned to accept it even tho he would like to take care of his baby sister and sometimes feels bad about not being able to. They used to share a room in a cheap apartment but after building up enough savings they managed to buy a suspiciously cheap house in a rural town bordering a reservation and not far from a national park.

Laios still works odd jobs, mostly physical labor and stuff where they won't ask for a degree. Has worked retail, where his customer service was trash but he's darn good at just stocking and shelving shit.

Met Chilchuck while working retail, Chilchuck introduced him to the concept of a union which Laios thinks is really neat.

The town where the Touden's moved has a sizable population of people with dwarfism, Chilchuck is a notable member of the little person community in the area. The Touden's go to Chilchuck for help with paperwork (they pay him a small fee) and he doesn't ask too many questions about why they don't have this or that piece of documentation.

Laios enjoys doing citizen science and bird watching. During the tourist season, he runs a small wilderness guide giving campers and hikers tours in the local national park.

There's a hermit that lives in the national park illegally (Senshi) that Laios and Falin made friends with. They love his cooking.

Laios is active in the online furry community. He does commissions, mostly of digital and physical art or people's fursonas and vore stuff. He does great ferals, and decent anthros, but his human art is not good (he's working on it).

Laios is decidedly chubby in this, his weight goes up and down depending on the season and how much physical activity he's doing. But ever since he reunited with Falin, she's been making sure he doesn't skip meals if they can afford to eat. And ever since he met Senshi he's gotten heftier since he loves that man's cooking.

[scoobhead]

PLEASE tell me some of your favorite sandwiches...i work at a diner and i get one free sandwich per day and i almost always get the exact same thing. gimme something that will deeply bamboozle the kitchen staff

thank you for this ask. i am so sorry for the sandwich tangent that it inspired. this post is in fact so long that i have to put it under a read more tag so it doesn't reach Do You Love The Color Of The Sky notoriety. also this has been written as, like, a general cooking guide instead of Things You Can Order At A Diner, but otherwise feel free to show this post to your kitchen staff and watch their minds crumble

to build a great sandwich - a truly Fucked Up Sandwich - you must first understand that a sandwich is, at its core, just some bread with stuff on it. as a disclaimer, i don't mean to diss the classics. they're around for a reason. i just know that PERSONALLY i am a little bit sick of the same second grade lunchbox sandwich, and PERSONALLY i prefer to push the boundaries of simple food preparation into the realm of the eldritch and unknown.

the sandwiches i make are different every time. you may have heard the old adage "cooking is an art." that is partially true, sometimes, kind of. cooking, for me, is more like a four year old getting access to paint for the first time and losing their whole goddamn mind about it. i want you to let go of every rule you think there is. make things up. go crazy.

the bread of the sandwich matters only insofar as it can support its fillings. i tend to use plain ol whole wheat, but honestly, you can use whatever you'd like. my big piece of advice here is to think about the structural integrity of your design. much like a bread engineer, because that's what you are. if your fillings are wet or gelatinous (hold on, we're getting there) you NEED a crustier bread. sara lee won't cut it. some people like fancy bread with herbs and shit. i see the bread more as a canvas than as part of the painting, but like, there are no rules. go ham.

speaking of ham. this is the section where you expect me to disavow lunch meats. i shan't. pre-sliced meat is a brilliant (and cheap!) way to provide the basis of flavor for your sandwich AND to make sure you get enough protein. if you're vegan or vegetarian, you'll have to skip this step, but that's okay because it's not an integral part of the process. that being said, i think it lays a solid foundation for the whole sandwich's raison d'etre.

pairing with a good cheese is a classic for a reason. i stay away from american - it melts beautifully, which makes it great for grilled cheese, but it also has an artificial quality to it that i don't really vibe with. swiss, provolone, and cheddar are staples, but honest to god, any cheese can be made to work if you build around it. (side note: the best grilled cheese uses american, pepper jack, colby, and a tomato. season the OUTSIDE of the bread with butter, red pepper flakes, garlic, and a dash of oregano. fry up an egg and put it on top and oh baby. ham optional if you want some extra protein.)

ok. you have your basics. now i need you to take a look around your kitchen and GO WILD.

one of my Go To Combinations is turkey, swiss, and a fruit jam (i like apricot). it is EXTREMELY good and easy to make, and the jam gives it just the right touch of sweetness to complement to mellow flavor of the turkey. if you're like, "oh, wow, you put JAM? on a SANDWICH??? ARE YOU OK????" you need to stop reading right now. the shaggy-like combinations that i concoct may be too strong for you, traveler.

if you like sweet foods and want to lean into that, keep exploring Fruit Road. jams and preserves work wonders. fruit butters are also nice for a more savory touch, but can get expensive and/or seasonal. you can also go for Fruits themselves: thinly sliced apple + ham + brie (or swiss, if you can't swing a more expensive cheese) is a godsend. most fruits belong on a sandwich tbh. grapes, tangerines, bananas, pineapple: it's all about the right context.

if you want to go Even Further Beyond, Fruit Road takes you right down to Sweets Avenue. honey works on most sandwiches, and - hear me out - will cut the tangy, eggy flavor of mayonnaise. it's easy for honey to overpower, though, so i'd say to go for a little before tasting and reassessing. plain or vanilla yogurt also complements fruit really well without being overpowering. if you REALLY want to go sweet, i like marshmallow fluff + bananas + peanut butter for protein. i've yet to find good vegan alternates to these, unfortunately - agave nectar would work in place of honey, but play around and see what you can come up with.

if you want to go savory, then Aromatics Boulevard will make sure you get substance and flavor. basil is an underrated addition to sandwiches, as are green onions, garlic (jarlic works great for this, don't @ me), and cabinet spices. you might need to try a little to get the proportions right, but chicken + mozzarella + plain yogurt + curry powder is frankly a godsend. i also lovelovelove a good sauce; nando's perinaise is usually region-specific, but it's creamy and tangy and goes with everything and i'm obsessed with it. get creative with what you have!

ok. this is my secret ingredient. come here. lao gan ma is chili oil, but with chili crisps in it. it is the single best ingredient in my kitchen. it's not expensive, a jar of it lasts forever, and you can find it at almost every asian grocery store. it is the perfect kick of spice to add to a sandwich. plenty of heat but not overpowering, and with a mostly savory finish. god it's so good. i scoop it with a knife to avoid most of the oil and spread just the crisp over the sandwich. crunchy, spicy, savory. mamma mia.

those are the BASICS of what i can give you. if you've read this far and you actually make a Fucked Up Sandwich PLEASE tag me in it, because odds are i'll try it. be bold. make a potato salad + tangerine + tahini monstrosity. (i haven't tried that but maybe it's good???) anything is a sandwich if you're brave enough. if you're still looking for inspiration, i get a lot of ideas from traditional tea sandwiches, which are usually ~3 ingredients and can get absolutely hogwild.

if you want more specific recipes or combinations then reach out and i can send you a list, but i hope that this gave you the tools and confidence to go forth and wreak havoc. have fun stay safe eat sandwiches!

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Help Less, Less Help: Ken Ryuguji x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Drken isn't sure why he's tangled up with you. It isn't his way; it's not like him. But after he's lost the things and people he used to love, rock bottom with you doesn't seem so bad.

wc: 752

tw: smut, angst

masterlist

Come over. I want to see you.

Draken's hands cradle the phone as if the message dashed across the lock screen is an exclusive invite to the Met Gala. He can already feel the adrenaline spiking in his veins, the dopamine flushing into his brain, and his other head taking over.

Give me ten minutes.

Desite the blinds covering theDespite windows, Draken knows it's dark outside. It's what he would call "after hours" for the world. No one is on the road at this time. No one is up watching TV... or watching for him. No, he's all by himself on the outside like the janitor after all the employees have gone home.

The shop is closed to everyone but him.

"The shop" is a crude way to think about the world, especially when that world leads straight to your door past midnight. The moths flicker about, batting at the only light that's on... waiting for him. Only him.

Draken raises his fist to knock, but you sense him before he can complete his task. "Hey," you purr, dressed in a simple robe with little ladybugs decorating the satin. "Right on time."

"When am I not?" Draken teases, angling his way inside and looking about the living room that never changes. The couch is the same dark, dingy denim blue he loves running his hands over. Feeling the rough texture of the sofa only enhanced the feeling of your smooth skin under his fingertips; it's a ritual he can't pass up.

Your eyes follow him as he creeps over to the furniture piece and sits on it like he owned it. A smirk pulls at your lips, and Draken jerks his chin at you.

"Your boyfriend gone for the weekend?"

"Yeah," you muse, looking at the ceiling and sighing as you lock the door. "All... fucking... weekend."

"That's rough."

"Don't lie," you quip, running your hands over the back of the couch as you pass by Draken. It takes everything in him not to reach out and swipe at your ass. "You love it when he's gone."

"I do," he admits, tucking a stray black hair behind his ear with the same hand he would have used to smack your ass. "You get loud as shit."

"I do not." You slap his arm, but Draken reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you closer for a feverish kiss.

"Wanna bet?"

Draken's sensible. At least, that's what he wants to think while fucking another man's girlfriend. You were there, available, cute, and willing. Emma was gone. Mikey was gone. All his friends... gone.

But you're here. And you want him.

Draken knows that sex is a cheap form of love; you're not even in love with him. He knows this deep down. But this false sense of security carries him past the lonely nights and the faceless dreams that haunt him. This fragile sense of security makes him feel like he's not missing out on so much life.

Your plush walls hug his cock so tightly, and it's one leap from reality into the mental state that is fantasy. And in his fantasy, he's been like this for years on end, just holding on to your body and holding you tight while being so intimate, so close. So real.

The kisses you give him are enough to fill the void. When he makes you cum, your voice crying out his name fills his empty heart with something he can't abandon. He cums too, and thoughts unravel before his very eyes. The release feeds his delusion, but Draken doesn't care. He's addicted to the feeling of being wanted, being loved... being home. When you hold him tight and whisper, "Don't let me go," he can't help but stay and kiss your forehead and the top of your scalp with care.

It's wrong. It's not fair. It's not right. When Draken ponders his circumstances when he's clear-headed, nothing about it makes sense. It's all a temporary solution for a permanent problem.

But... if he were to succumb to his darkness, he would feel helpless. It's a feeling he's never forgotten, and one he never wants to feel again.

"Stay with me," you hum, snuggling into his chest. And in Draken's fantasy, you're honest. You want him to stay forever, and you're willing to let your lackadaisical boyfriend go for him. For forever.

It's a fairy tale. But it's Draken's fairytale that keeps him from truly seeing the darkness of the world and inside of himself.

[octuscle]

Hey there! A good friend of mine gets recently a wrong suitcase from the airport and suddenly disappeared. I never got a text from him anymore. It seems like he has forgotten his real life - I hope he's alive! My problem is that I get a strange suitcase too now. It's from SBH. Maybe I should bring it back?

Really a strange suitcase. You could have done more with a decent hard case from Samsonite. You've been wanting one of these for 30 years. But this? A pretty ugly bag for your taste…. Seems to be from France, the name has an accent on the second e in any case. No idea how to pronounce it now. You take a picture of the bag and let Google Lens see if you can get something for it on ebay….

WHAT THE HELL! 8.500 EURO! For a bag. You get out your reading glasses. You need to take a closer look. Okay. You've made a mistake. It's 85,000 euros. You're getting dizzy. Are the zippers and the lock made of white gold? What justifies this absolutely absurd price? For a company that nobody knows. At least you've never heard of it… Now you are curious about the contents. The lock hangs only decoratively on the bag. It is not locked. It would be better if it was. The contents are two sets of underwear, two pairs of silk boxer shorts, a couple of T-shirts, a toilet bag, which you assume costs a fortune… Everything is incidental… Most of the space is taken up by bundles of hot-off-the-press 200-euro bills. There must be several 100,000 euros in there. What the hell!

Take the bag and run? Seems like a shitty idea to you. The shipment went to your address. Whoever owns it (and it's not you) knows who you are and where you live. None of this makes any sense! You search the side pockets. An airline ticket. First class. From Paris back to Saint Barth via Saint Martin. And a booking confirmation for an overnight stay in a suite at the Pullman Paris Roissy CDG Airport. Tonight. All in your name. Fuck, you can't just fly to the Caribbean with some underwear and two swim shorts and an incredible amount of money. But if you do, you have to hurry. Shit, you'll regret it. But you buy a train ticket to Paris, put on your best suit. And you're on your way.

On the train, everything was still okay. But in the lobby of the airport hotel you get a lot of looks. Yes, first of all you don't fit into the elegant frame. Your suit is enough for a customer appointment as a representative of construction machinery. But here all the people are slimmer, more elegant, prettier…. You look like a slightly overweight piece of dirt. With a 15-carat diamond in your hand. At the reception, the lady smiles at you briefly. Then her eyes fall on the weekender. And just breathes a "How beautiful!" Then she apologizes that they can't offer you anything better than the Superior Suite. There were other VIPs here besides you who had received the very large suites. As an apology you would receive a bottle of champagne in your room. And they would be very grateful if they could invite you to dinner. Your luggage has already arrived, they were so kind to bring it to your room. If you need help unpacking, you can reach the butler service at extension 940.

You thank her and ask for a discreetly placed table at 8:30 pm. The champagne gladly with your meal. In fluent French. You beam at the young lady, she blushes and smiles back.

It's a good thing your suitcase wasn't checked in directly by the Air France service. You would like to change again for dinner. The suite is okay for one night. In the bathroom, you look in the mirror. Why did you put on that cheap suit? You must have been really mentally deranged. Were you trying to disguise yourself? Silly! You jump into the shower. While drying off, you think to yourself that you are actually quite firm for a man in his late 40s. Yes, a little more exercise would be okay. But otherwise… You open the Hermès suitcase, take out a black suit and a black shirt. And you change your clothes. You find the Royal Oak to match. And as a statement, the crocodile sandals. Let everyone see your freshly pedicured feet.

There's hardly a pair of eyes that don't turn to you when you enter the restaurant. If your ego wasn't bigger than the Eiffel Tower, you might be embarrassed that the entire staff looks after you first and then the other guests. You see people whispering. Everyone wonders who you are. The problem is: you don't know yourself… For a moment, you look at your manicured fingernails and wonder what's going on. Then you take a sip of champagne. Veuve Clicquot. Well… It's a gift… It's okay for that…

After dessert, the waiter asks if you would like to have coffee and digestif with a cigar at the bar. Normally you think this is a good idea. But not today. The flight to Martinique leaves quite early. Before that, you would like to get some sleep. So you decline with thanks and put a 100-euro bill on the table as a tip.

A message on your cell phone wakes you up at 4:00 in the morning. You are supposed to take some courier goods with you. You can get it at the hotel reception. Fuck! What is this again? Anyway, you are awake now. Then use the time at least. 100 situps, 100 pushups. You like the picture in the bathroom mirror afterwards. The hair on your chest is jet black. Just like your beard, there's not a gray hair to be seen. And sweat drips in the grooves between your six-pack. You get a hard-on like you haven't had in years. You can't help it. You have to jerk off. And boy, there was real pressure on your balls. Your cum runs off the mirror like someone threw a cup of yogurt at it. It's just before 6:00 now. You call 940 and ask Yves to pick up a package at the reception desk, which would be deposited there. Until he arrives, you do another 100 push-ups. When the knock comes and you open the door, your eyes fall on a turquoise package in Yves' hands. Yves' gaze falls on the package between your legs. Shit, you are naked. Yves asks if he can help you in any way. He still does not look into your eyes. You pull him into the room and throw him on your bed.

Two hours later Yves serves you breakfast in your room. You are ready for departure. Airfrance has already picked up your luggage with the package, which is probably not from Tiffany's, and your boarding pass is in an envelope on a silver tray on the breakfast table. In half an hour, someone will pick you up and take you directly to the plane. Security checks are something for people who have to travel in business class.

Flights with Air France are orgies of champagne and foie gras. The nine hours fly by. The fuck with the purser in the bathroom certainly played its part. The guy thought you were in your late 30s and asked if you were flying on your dad's credit card or your own. For the impudence he had to blow you unfortunately. Whereby he was not so wrong. Somehow you fly with daddy's credit card. But you still don't know who Daddy is. The pilot of the private plane who meets you in Saint Martin directly on the tarmac and flies with you to Saint Barth doesn't tell you that either. You have never been here before. But you feel right at home. This is how you always imagined the Caribbean. There is a Maybach on the tarmac. When you get off the plane, the driver comes to meet you, takes your suitcase and weekender and puts both in the trunk. Wordlessly. And just as wordlessly, he gets into the car and speeds away.

Shit! Now you're standing at the airport. You don't even have an ID card. You have the clothes you wear on your body. Okay, the watch you're wearing on your wrist could get you back home if need be and feed you for a year. That's where the Maybach comes back. The chauffeur gets out and asks you for the watch. Fuck!

At that moment, an open jeep rolls up to you. At the wheel is a young guy, maybe in his mid-20s, waving at you. Damn, you know that face… He reminds you of your lost buddy. Did he have a son who is a personal trainer in the Caribbean? That's definitely what the man looks like. The guy jumps out of the car, hugs you and welcomes you to Saint Barth. "Come on, get in! The boss wants to meet you!" You drive around the island for half an hour. Everything is incredibly beautiful! A gate opens in front of you at the end of a dead-end street. And your buddy steers the car through a tropical park. He parks the car in front of a palace, grins at you, says "Not bad, huh" and tells you to follow him. You walk through the house for what feels like a kilometer. There is a pleasant coolness here. Your buddy knocks on a door, waits a moment and opens it. A wave of autotity hits you. The whole room literally reeks with authority. You almost feel like falling to your knees and kissing the man's hand. "This is the boy from Paris?" Your buddy nods mutely. "Good job," says your boss. And extends his hand to you. With a dry mouth you say that you would do anything for him. He laughs and says that for now you should enjoy the island for a few days. And with a twitch of the corner of his mouth, he tells you that you can say goodbye.

You had hoped a little that you would be allowed to stay in the palace. But your buddy runs back to the jeep. And drives with you to a far less pompous house. But the beach is close. Your room is spacious. Your closet is well sorted. And you have a few days off on the island of the rich and beautiful.

03:30 the next morning. Message from the boss. Have you ever been to Abu Dhabi? Be at the airport in an hour!

[freya-howlett]

So, now that I finished totk, I'd like to share my insight of the game overall with y'all. Fight me or agree with me, I'd like to know other people's opinions

PROS

The soundtrack is amazing. Zelda has always been about awesome music and this is not the exception. The soundtrack plays exactly what the environment was to convey. You're exploring the sky islands? The music is then calm. You're in the depths? the music will help you shit yourself. Going even more down, looking for Ganondorf? coolest music ever, full of mystery.

World exploring. I feel like this time totk forces you to explore the world, in botw you could directly go to Ganon and beat the shit out of him with a stick, but definitely not here at all. You find yourself needing bombs so you'll have to look for caves, then you need Sundelion, so you have to go to the sky. In a certain way, I hated that for the first days because I was trying to finish the game as soon as I could, but now I appreciate it.

We have our first disabled Link! At least until the end. It was nice to see him different for once. It'd be cool if he had stayed that way.

World development. In botw, you have this whole piece of land that's mostly monsters and ruins, but in totk things have changed after the calamity disappeared. We have more people around who're in contact with each other. The places don't seem as lonely as before and even people help Link. And, did you notice there's less trees? It's a nice detail, since there's new buildings made of wood everywhere.

Fusing mechanic. Tbh, I didn't love Fuse at first, but then realized how useful it can be.

Link's clothing. There's more clothes available bc they used the botw DLC clothing, which is cool! And the new designs are... slutty.

Zelink. No one can tell me otherwise. All the signs are there, bitches!!!!

CONS

Overall, it doesn't feel like a sequel. And I hated that. Nintendo keeps giving preference towards new players and in this case, it's not worth it. I dare to declare that at least 80% of people who purchased totk played botw and knew exactly what they were getting. This especially has to do with the point below.

There's no mention of the Champions at all, the Sheikah technology is missing, and where tf are the Divine Beasts?? I get that, yeah, maybe the Champions shouldn't be thaaaaaat important anymore, yet what about everything else? Where's my Sheika Slate????????

We were promised a dark game and this isn't it, not at all. Maybe I'm tripping? But I remember clearly on the first years of development people mentioning this game would be dark like Majora's, and going back to the first two trailers I could actually see it was kinda the case. However, with the last trailer, I made a bet that they probs rejected the idea and I was right. I'd like to have something like Majora someday again.

The introduction of a new race out of nowhere. The zonai.... they weren't my piece of cake at first. It seems cheap for me, I'm not sure. I don't know if they intended to introduce something, anything, from them since botw but ended up scraping the idea, but overall the whole experience I have of them from both games is that they took the zonai out of their asses and were like "yup, we got this!"

The end was TOO happy. Like I mentioned before, I'd rather Link have his arm cut. Purah can make another one if Rauru really wanted his arm so bad. Zelda transforming back was okay, but what I didn't really get was why did Sonia and Rauru didn't turn her back before????? They instead waited until Link fought his ass hard, lol.

I hated that Zelda was thanking ME at the end instead of Link. Don't look at me, bitch, look at your boyfriend! This has to do with this other post of mine about how Nintendo can't let go of Link being an avatar despite they themselves providing depth to his character.

I may edit this longer but rn I'm out of ideas and I'm at work, lol.

[qweerhet]

do u have advice on going to protests when u wear glasses? i can't wear contacts and between worrying about them falling or getting broken and worrying about them getting fogged up and not being able to see it's just stressful

wear the least recognizable pair you have (like, honestly if you have the money to spare, if i were you i'd get a really generic cheap plastic pair off zenni or similar for like $25 and have those be my Protest Glasses, but i am aware that is not financially doable for a lot of people so that's not like. My Only Advice).

stay on the outskirts of the protest and dip at the first sign of trouble; do some basic research on how to recognize a kettle and hit the bricks as soon as you see cops closing in. have a sighted friend with you who can guide you around if your glasses get broken if at all possible (again, i know that's not doable for everyone).

wear an n95 with head straps instead of a kn95 or surgical or cloth mask; they have structural pieces around the nose bridge that make it significantly less likely they'll fog your glasses up. head straps (instead of ear loops) make the fit much closer around your nose/cheeks and help with the fogging issue as well. (i am speaking as a lifelong glasses wearer with one of those thick-ass prescriptions!)

generally speaking, i don't think you're in much danger of getting caught in a situation where your glasses are in danger of getting lost/broken if you keep to the outskirts of the protest and keep your head up to leave at the first sign of trouble, but shit happens sometimes so i would suggest being prepared anyway.

[blackjackkent]

Finally made it to Nine-Fingers' office!

I actually passed it on the way into the Guildhall and definitely didn't actually need to do all that wandering around. XD Ah well. Exploration is never wasted (and we found Mol!).

The biggest mystery about this office is that it has three doors, all equally accessible, but only one of them is illegal to open and locked. Go figure.

[crashes through one of the unlocked doors] NINE-FINGERS I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR GANG WAR; TELL ME WHERE MINSC IS!

She's busy talking with a very creepy-looking masked guy (I assume a leader of one of the groups that make up the confederation of the Guild).

"It's an orphanage, Uktar. What would you have me do, seize their toys as payment?"

"They failed to pay tribute. We should withdraw our protection, at the very least."

"And cede more ground to the Stone Lord? You're not suggesting I yield a single inch of the city - my city - to this cult?"

"I-- we already look weak! If you're seen to be forgiving debts..."

"I didn't say 'forgive.' Seize the building. Arm any children old enough. If they protect what's mine, we'll consider that a start on what's owed."

"...Yes, Guildmaster."

OK, so this lady seems like a badass. I love me a good Aria T'Loak vibe - powerful, possessive of that power, ready to kick the shit out of anyone who crosses her - and we're definitely in that general vein here. Hopefully we can stay on her good side.

At this point they noticed Hector and co. wandering in - particularly Jaheira.

"Excuse me? This is a private council."

"Keep your underpants clean, Uktar. We're playing host to a hero." She turns towards Jaheira, looks her over with a smirk. "You owe me a gold piece, grandmother. When I heard you died out in the wilderness, I made an offering at Kelemvor's well."

"Of gold?" Jaheira responds dryly. "I did not know I meant so much to you, guildmaster."

"I'm terribly sentimental," Keene quips. "Case in point - I've just let a Harper walk through my Guildhall, noticeably unholed. Because I'm curious - about why you're here, and who it is you've brought with you."

She flicks a glance at Hector, although it's clear he is very much a secondary interest.

Normally Hector would just let Jaheira do the talking here, but Jaheira specifically mentioned asking him to do the talking with Keene, so he will do his best.

"Hi there!" he says brightly. "I'm a friend of Jaheira's."

("Jaheira approves." ^_^ )

"How nice," Keene says coolly. "You won't find many of those in my Guildhall."

"We won't tax your hospitality too long, Nine-Fingers," Jaheira says briskly. "I'm searching for Minsc of Rashemen."

The guildmaster tilts her head to the side and smiles slowly. "A big name, that. Such information does not come cheap, High Harper - not in normal times. Of course... seeing as these are not normal times, and we're all such good friends... I'll do better than tell you where he is. I'm bringing him here as we speak."

Hector's eyebrows shoot up. Jaheira stiffens, her eyes narrowing with a sudden, visible flash of hope.

Keene is very aware of the reaction she is engendering, because she lets it linger a moment before she sticks the knife in.

"Or parts of him, at least," she finishes coldly. "I gave no orders about the condition of his corpse."

Hector's fists clench at his sides, but before he can speak, Jaheira has surged forward, a rage flaring into her eyes unlike anything he has seen from her before. "What treachery is this, Nine-Fingers?!" she roars. Her hands twitch towards the blades on her back. "Have you thrown in with the Absolute too?"

Keene's smile turns brittle. "Against my own city?" she answers icily, not flinching back from Jaheira's glare. "Careful - you're in very real danger of hurting my feelings."

Her lip curls in a vindictive sneer. "It's *Minsc* who's found his faith with Faerun's newest god. And a new name with it - the Stone Lord."

All the color drains from Jaheira's face and she goes completely still. "Lies..." she whispers hoarsely.

Oh my god.

OK so first of all - WHAT THE FUCK NO MINSC NOOOOOOO

Second - this feels so obvious in retrospect. An anonymous reader (who I would totally tag here if I knew who they were, to let them know I finally hit the payoff) let me know a few days back that Minsc is LITERALLY ALIVE BECAUSE HE WAS A STATUE FOR A CENTURY. Of COURSE he's the fucking Stone Lord. Especially since the last time Jaheira saw him he was being pounced on by 124135124 Absolutist mind flayers; him becoming one himself is even more likely than him being dead, which was already pretty likely.

After my massive victory moment with the Emperor's identity earlier this afternoon I'm doubly annoyed I didn't make this connection. XD

Third - AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOO WE MUST SAVE MY BOY AND HIS HAMSTER >:|

Hector gets to take over the dialogue here which makes a certain amount of sense because Jaheira is PISSSSSSSSED and UPSET and I want to give her a HUG. D: Clock her incredibly angry face on the right side while Hector tries to salvage the situation:

"What makes you think he's joined the Absolute?" Hector asks. "Maybe he just doesn't like thieves."

"Aye," Keene says with a shrug, leaning against the desk behind her. "I considered that. But there's a pattern to his strikes - an intent. In his short reign, the Stone Lord and his crew have earned a reputation. Pure brutality. No survivors. And where he mows my people down, this ripe little cult takes root."

Oh, Minsc, buddy, no. :( That is not buttkicking for goodness, that is buttkicking for BADNESS. Don't do that.

"But not for much longer," Keene finishes coldly. "We have word on where he plans to hit next - and he'll find us ready to hit back this time."

Jaheira swallows and spreads her hands in a placating gesture; her voice softens, and Hector can hear the note of deep pain underlaying it. "Nine-Fingers--" she begins, then stops, tries again. "Astele. Call off your ambush. Tell us where he is, and we'll handle this."

"'We'?" Keene answers disdainfully. "I heard what happened to your Harpers, Jaheira. I'm sorry - but this fight's too big for you alone."

"She's not alone," Hector points out. "She has me."

("Jaheira approves.")

Keene's eyes flash with sudden irritation. "If you're half the friend you're posing as," she snaps, "you'll tell her that her part in this is done. The Stone Lord's fate is sealed. We have a bigger war to fight. I'd rather turn our talk to that, but if you need a moment, Jaheira..."

She pauses, looks at Jaheira for a long moment, and then her expression softens almost imperceptibly. "Well, you've earned that much. My Guildhall is open to you. Have a drink, Jaheira. Have a *rest.*"

And then the softness is gone, and her whole attitude goes cold as steel. "Just leave well enough alone. It would be a shame for the city to lose two of its heroes in one day."