#and there's chip bags and beer cans everywhere

[borgeslabyrinth]

It's really funny because when I'm at my own apartment building I'm like "wow, this is so nice" :) everything's really clean and well lit and there's never any trash outside the trash receptacles and there's never junk around. And then I go to a different building to drop off some mail that's been put in the wrong post box or to have a short cut through to avoid a barking dog and I'm like. Damn, y'all really live like this?

[chenfleur]

melting again

pairing. yang jungwon x y/n ⇝ ft older brother!jake

genre. family by choice au, that one scene from ep 13, fluff, secret relationship

word count. 1.2k

author's note. this drama ended last week and now there is a gaping hole in my chest. i'm trying to get back into writing after a few months and i forgot how hard it is (headinhands) happy december! i hope this month is kind to everyone ♡

masterlist

You’re not exactly sure how long you’ve spent sitting in the fourth floor’s common area, shifting around to find a more comfortable dip in the armchair, uncrossing your legs when the bottom one falls asleep just to cross it over the other. The condensation of your iced coffee dripping down your wrist is a prickly sensation—it demands your attention that, up until now, had been completely focused on burning holes through Yang Jungwon and Jake Sim’s apartment door. 

When the rivulet ends as a small, wet blotch on the sleeve of your blouse, your patience snaps.

There’s a resounding slam of sole against tile as you march up to the door, fingers fumbling with the keypad. “Assholes,” you curse under your breath, impatiently punching in the code you already know by heart. “I reminded them twice yesterday that we’d be having breakfast at Dad’s…”

The door unlocks with a click and a little jingle. Hastily twisting the door handle, you exercise your self-given (and very justified, you’d argue) right to barge into their apartment as if it were your own. 

“Guys!” You slip off your shoes, kicking them to the side. “Where the hell are—”

The obnoxious wave of alcohol that hits your nose makes you stop in your tracks, extinguishing your fuse by forcing you to take in the state of their apartment.

See, your expectations for two twenty-something men living together weren’t high to begin with, but this seemed excessive. The place looks like the morning after a college party, but the fact that you know it was only the two of them last night is what makes it unreasonable.

Random clusters of soju bottles, crumpled beer cans, and half-torn chip bags are strewn all over the place—and there, in all their flushed-face glory, were Jungwon and Jake. Both severely passed out on opposite ends of the couch.

You roll your eyes so hard, they’re practically in the back of your head.

“Jake. Sim. Wake. Up,” you grit out, punctuating each word with a smack to his limp arm. “Seriously, wake up. Did you forget we’re eating with Dad today? Huh?”

Your older brother only groans in his sleep, moving away from your swatting hand and settling back against the couch. There’s a siren in your head urging you to punch him, but you silence it with an irritated sigh.

Then, your eyes fall onto Jungwon. They soften.

Setting your things down, you round the coffee table, kneeling down next to the couch. Your brain is determined to stay annoyed with him for not being ready to leave, but your hand is gentler than you’d hoped for as you shake his shoulder. 

“Jungwon,” you murmur. “Come on, just wake up.”

Not a part of him moves, not even in acknowledgement. A deep sigh leaves your lips as you slowly push yourself up by your knees, about to turn away—but fingers wrap around your wrist, latching on. 

A surprised yelp escapes you as Jungwon tugs you down onto the couch. You fall into place, into the spaces where his body hadn’t already taken up. A sputtered protest is about to leave your lips, one about him being awake the whole time and ignoring you, but it dies on its way out when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. 

Frozen, you blink. It amuses him, based on the way the corners of his lips quirk up ever so slightly. The tip of his nose is cold when it brushes against yours.

“You look pretty,” he mumbles sleepily.

Ten years apart wasn’t enough time for your eyes to learn to handle the sight of Yang Jungwon. They were still so overwhelmed by him—darting everywhere, trying to process his eyes, nose, lips. Trying to process the parts of him that had changed, like his cheeks that are less round than they were when he left for Seoul.

And maybe the fact that the only version of him you remember and truly know is the one from high school—that you had watched him grow up, but not in a way that your insecurity told you actually mattered—is what causes you to fixate on certain things.

Like how his less round cheeks still carry that lingering, rosy tint that you remember. That you try to hold onto.

You strain yourself to harden your gaze. It fails miserably.

“Jungwon, what are you doing?” you whisper urgently. “Jake is right there—”

“He’s asleep,” Jungwon murmurs in response. “Out cold.”

Gaze flitting over to the coffee table, he regards you with a raised brow. “Iced coffee? In winter?”

You glare at him. “What does the temperature of my drinks have to do with the season?”

One of his hands leaves your waist to gently flick your nose, returning to its original post when you open your mouth in protest. “Stupid girl. No wonder you get sick so easily.”

Scoffing, you grumble, “You should go back to Seoul. Piece of shit.” 

You know it’s an empty threat. A miserably thin veil, trying to keep him from looking too closely at the fragment of your heart that physically shakes with fear at the thought of losing him again. Of unknowingly handing him over to a city that doesn’t welcome him. To people who hurt him.

So after the words leave your lips, you curl a little tighter into him. Trying to get his warmth to swallow you and rejuvenate the parts of you that have been aching dully since the day he’d left.

Jungwon watches you through half-lidded eyes the entire time that you’re silent. He carefully takes in the way your fingers grip the fabric of his shirt.

His first instinct is to pry, but he decides that you probably don’t want his first instinct.

“Kiss,” he murmurs instead.

The request catches you off guard, snapping you out of your bleak thoughts. “No,” you purse your lips, trying to push down the small smile that threatens to surface. “No. You’re drunk and you smell.”

“I kiss you when you’re stinky and you won’t do the same?”

“What are you even talking about? I’m never stinky, unlike you right now.”

Jungwon only chuckles, and in the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours in a fleeting kiss. When he pulls away, he’s looking at you again, a pretty smile on his lips at how caught off guard you look.

“You— you can’t just do that—” 

“Says who?” He tilts his head at you with a soft click of his tongue. “Apparently I have a girlfriend who doesn’t know the concept of free will.”

Girlfriend. The idea still makes your head spin. 

You glance over your shoulder to check that Jake is still dead to the world before coming back to Jungwon. “Come on,” you whisper, hand coming up to rest on his hair, twirling a small piece between your fingers. “We’re gonna be late. My dad will get worried and start blowing up my phone again.”

Nodding against the pillow, Jungwon’s cat-like eyes flutter closed again. “Okay.” 

A pause. “Love you.”

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

“Mm,” a coherent part of you manages to hum back. Your lips press a quick, soft kiss to the corner of his eye, not before taking one more precautionary glance at Jake. 

“Love you, Won.”

[mattsangel]

𝒉𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅│𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉… your stalker is tormenting you at a party, almost revealing his identity in the process. 

stalker!matt x goodgirl!reader, party scene (mention of alcohol use), cursing, smut (no actual sex), dirty talk, pet names

3k words

loud bass is blaring through the dark neighborhood, the annual start of the year party being held at one of the school’s rich kid’s mansion. in this part of town, the houses are enormous, almost looking like castles, and modern, with multiple luxury cars parked in the driveways, the selection varying between porches and audis leaving the streets vacant for guests to park their cars. just like every year, there are cars parked everywhere, the front lawn of the house is full of teens and red plastic cups. the fall air is crisp, but it’s not cold just yet.

your friends walk up the stairs to the beautiful white and grey house, giggling to themselves while you take your time, trailing behind and observing your surroundings. you’re wearing a beautiful short, open-back black dress with a pink bow in the back and some matching pink heels. your long hair is in loose curls, pulled back by a bow, leaving only the front pieces out to catch in your glittery lip gloss when the wind hits your face. 

as you’re observing the people around you, most are students you’ve run into in the hallways, some are from other schools, just there for booze and a good time, you notice a dark form next to the garage doors. it’s too dark for you to be able to make up a face, or any trait, but from their build you can tell that it’s a male. he’s definitely wearing dark clothes, but before you can observe him some more, he’s vanished towards the wooded area behind the house. shaking your head slightly, you make your way towards the open front door to find your friends.

the house is packed, the walls are shaking from how loud the music is. there is a beer pong tournament in one room and people dancing in another. drinks are being left on various surfaces of the house, confettis are on the floor and you can even spot discarded shoes and purses. you make your way to the kitchen, where you assume you will find a drink and your friends. after almost getting lost in the big house, you finally find a beautiful kitchen, with marble counters and gold accents. alongside bottles of various alcohols, a bowl of fruit punch that people spiked with god knows what and some cans of soda are a few chips bags half eaten. pushing those to the side, you grab a red solo cup and fill it with rum and coke, not being much of a drinker but wanting to loosen up a little bit for once. 

cup in hand, you make your way to the dance floor, where you finally find your friends dancing and laughing with what seems to be the guys of the football team. as you try to make your way to them, mumbling sorry’s to the people around and pushing your way across the dance floor, the arm of a drunk guy slaps your drink all over your dress, making the black fabric stick to your skin. without even looking your way, the guy walks away, not even bothering to say sorry or help you out. 

giving up on your friends, you beeline for the staircase leading up fancy, white and gold stairs to try and find a bathroom. you reek of alcohol, the smell so strong it is almost making you nauseous. the upstairs area is just as beautiful as the rest of the house, the ceilings high, walls decorated by art pieces that must be worth millions, although for the owners it must be only a dime in their pockets. there are many doors, you push them open one by one, in hopes that the next one might be a bathroom. 

it is much quieter in this part of the house, and it takes you a few minutes to realize that you aren’t alone upstairs. at first, you assume that it must be some drunken kid looking for some place to crash in or even a horny couple trying to make their way to a bed but soon enough, you notice that the footsteps are going in the same direction as you are. your heart racing, you don’t want to turn around to face them so you open the next door in front of you and go in, realizing that it is a big library, only illuminated by the street lights from outside. forgetting about the mysterious footsteps, you walk in further, looking to find a light switch and admire the beauty that is this place.

there are at least 20 aisle of books all the way down to a beautiful red velvet couch against the wall. the carpeted floors are making it a bit hard for you to walk in your heels so you carefully step out of them and walk around the shelfs, admiring the endless copies of books, going from encyclopedias to fictions and memoirs. as you run your fingers against the dusty book covers, you suddenly hear a door close and someone walk in. you look through the shelves, but it is too dark for you to make out much.

“who’s in here?” you say softly, hoping that it is someone you might know.

you get no answer, only hearing soft footsteps against the carpet making it’s way closer to you. as you try to walk away and closer to the door, you notice a black doc marten boot from the other side of the shelf you were hiding behind, as your eyes go up the form of the man, he turns around and walks to the other side of the room. he is wearing black pants and a black hoodie, making it impossible for you to know who he is.

your heart rate is spiking up, your face is hot but somehow, you refuse to leave without knowing who he is. pushing your curled hair behind your shoulder, you slowly walk in the same direction as the dark figure.

you take a deep breath before addressing him again, “do i know you?”

he leans back against the wall next to the couch, his hood covering the upper half of his face, “maybe”, the raspy, dark voice says.

a shudder goes through your body after hearing his voice, which you don’t recognize. you walk closer, intrigued and somewhat feeling brave. as you get closer to him, you can see that the lower half of his face is adorning some stubble, his pink lips glistening as he licks them.

“it would help if i could see your face, don’t you think?” you lean your hip against the shelf closest to you, as you speak.

the mysterious figure let’s out a dry laugh, “it’s more fun if you don’t.”

he makes his way to the couch, sitting down and spreading his legs slightly, his lap almost inviting, “liking what you see, princess?”

you bite your lip to stop the tiny smile making it’s way onto your lips. you’ve always loved the unknown, being intrigued by things you couldn’t decipher, “maybe, but i’d like to know who you are, mr. darkness.”

you see a dark smirk coming onto his lips at the nickname, “let’s play a game, then maybe you’ll get to know who i am.”

“what kind of game?” in a very concerning way, this turned you on. it shouldn’t. you should be scared, although you could admit you were a little. but after being sheltered and watched over your whole life, the word innocence being automatically attached to your name by everyone, you needed an escape. 

an escape in a sick and twisted game with a stranger that looked impossibly dangerous but oh so captivating.

he pushed his hips up a bit, getting more comfortable in the soft couch before rubbing a hand across his jaw, “i’m going to ask you ten questions and if you answer all of them truthfully, i’ll answer your questions. don’t try to lie to me.”

your breathing picks up, “and if i don’t tell the truth?”

“believe me, you don’t want to go there,” he says, his voice low, “i know everything, sweetheart.”

your pride and curiosity takes the best of you and suddenly, you find yourself standing closer to him, ready for his game to begin.

it can’t be that bad.

he clears his throat, “question number one,” he pauses for a second, “what perfume are you wearing?”

you frowned, not understanding what kind of questions he’s asking. and for what?, “chanel number 5. always has, always will.”

“good,” he nods slowly, “question two, what shade of lipstick do you have on right now?”

“charlotte tilbury pillowtalk,” you continue, “how do you know i’m not lying?”

“i told you,” a dark smiles appear on his lips, “i know everything about you.”

you feel his gaze on your body, but his hood is still a bit too low for you to see much of his face.

“question three, what chapter of your favorite book do you keep rereading?”

his questions are getting weirder, “chapter twenty three.”

he hums, “it is a very good chapter,” he clears his throat, “question four, what color of underwear are you currently wearing?”

your eyebrows shoot up, not expecting such an intrusive question, and you choose to mess with him a little, “they’re purple.”

a sinister laugh comes out of his mouth as he gets up and walks towards you, “i thought you were a smart girl, y/n.”

you start to walk backwards, your back hitting the bookshelf behind you, trapping you, “i am smart.”

he tsk, using his two fingers to lift your jaw, “smart girls don’t lie,” he says, “and you don’t own a pair of purple underwear, you hate that color.”

shock takes over you as you realize that this man knows a lot more than you could imagine, “how would you even know that?”

“stupid question,” he answers, “you’re wearing pink lace panties.”

as you try to answer, he surprises you by grabbing your lower half, and swinging you over his shoulders, walking towards the couch. the alcohol on your dress now dry, only leaving the smell of rum lingering on you.

as he throws you down, your dress lifts up, revealing your light pink panties, “beautiful,” he says as sits next to you.

you pull down the hem of your dress, sitting down straight as you study the man, who is now very close to you. you can smell his cologne, and notice that his left sleeve has moved, revealing dark tattoos.

“what happens now?” you whisper in the silent room, now noticing that it started raining outside.

his right hand comes up, and he caresses your bare shoulder, gently removing your hair from there, “i’m going to have to punish you.”

his words make the pit of your stomach burn with excitement, arousal pooling in your now soaked panties, making you squeeze your legs together. 

this doesn’t go unnoticed as he looks down and licks his lips, letting out a small laugh, “but you won’t make this too hard for me, now will you, honey.”

you shake your head, “no, i won’t.”

“good,” he spreads his legs and pats his lap, “be a good girl and lay across my thighs. on your belly.”

you do as you are told, climbing over his lip and settling on your stomach, your head laying on the armrest. you feel his hands travel up your legs, stopping at your thighs before he roughly pulls the skirt of your dress over your ass, bunching it up on your hips. 

a low grunt comes out of him, as he caresses your now pantie-clad ass, “you know what happens to liars, right, y/n?”

you nod and he slaps your ass hard, “i need words, baby.”

“yes,” you whisper.

“what happens to liars, uh?” he smooths his hands over your ass before landing another hard slap.

you let out a hiss, “they get p-punished.”

the mystery man hums, slapping your ass again, “that’s right, honey,” he runs a hand up your back, grabbing a fistful of your hair, making the ribbon fall out, “but you’re a good girl aren’t you? you’ll take it well for me.”

as you squeak out a yes, he grabs both of your arms, crossing them behind your back and using the pink ribbon to tie them up, “that’s better.”

“count them with me, baby,” he says as he slaps your left ass cheek this time, harder. 

“one,” you say softly, your eyes watering from the pain.

he lands another one, “two.”

and another one, “three.”

once he gets to ten, you let out a sob that you’ve been holding for too long. the pain is making your ass cheeks burn, but your now soaked underwear is telling him that you secretly love it.

just as you think that he is about to slap your ass an eleventh time, he starts rubbing it in an almost tender way, “good girl, you did so good for me.”

“i think you deserve a reward,” he says moving his hand in between your thighs, pressing it onto your aching pussy, “what do you think?”

you nod vigorously, needing some sort of relief, “yes, please.” you whine out.

he starts to rub circles on to your covered clit, “you’re so wet, honey, is it all for me?”

“yes,” you try to muffle your moan by biting your lip.

he slaps your pussy lightly, “i want to hear you, don’t do that.”

he finally grabs the top of your soaked, lace panties and removes them, shoving them into his hoodie pocket, before running his fingers through your folds, “making a mess on my fingers already.”

he pushes his thick, middle finger inside of you, making your back arch into him and a high pitches moan come out of your mouth, “never had something so big inside of you before uh?”

he picks up his pace, as you start grinding onto his leg, looking for some more friction, “look at you, being so desperate for someone you don’t even know,” his other hand comes to grab at your neck from the side, squeezing it just the right amount, “i know you’ve been longing for this, baby, i know this is what you’ve always wanted.”

his words could make you think that he did know everything. like he knew that at night, you would watch videos of girls getting spanked and fucked by masked men, to get off. like he knew that you always secretly dreamed of being choked and tied up. like he knew that from the moment you saw him, all mysterious and dark , you weren’t instantly attracted to him.

as you get closer to your release, a familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach, his fingers pick up their speed, his breath hot on your back, “you look so pretty like this, all tied up and soaking my fingers.”

this is enough for you to come undone onto his fingers, your release coating your inner thighs and his hand, he removes his fingers and let out a satisfied hum before his other hand comes to grab at your hair, making your head turn towards his still hidden face. 

“look at that mess you’ve made on me, sweetheart,” you see his glistening fingers as he brings them to his mouth and suck on them, making your jaw hang slightly, “taste so good.”

after removing his fingers from his mouth, the brings them to yours, “taste yourself.”

you let out a moan as you suck on his fingers like your life depends on it. he takes them out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ and starts untying the ribbon lacing your arms together. when your arms are finally free, he sits you up straight against the couch, letting you catch your breah for a minute.

just when you’re about to open your mouth to speak again, he gets up and walks towards the door, your pink and still wet panties still hanging out of his hoodie pocket.

just when he is about to grap the knob and open the door he turns slightly towards you and says, “see you around, pretty girl. next time, don’t lie to me.”

he closes the door behind him, and just like that, you are left completely on your own, the sticky mess still in between your thighs, your hair disheveled and absolutely confused as to what just happened.

when you finally get yourself together and go to put on your shoes, a small piece of paper falls down from the strap of your dress onto the floor. you pick it up and open it.

i’ll be watching you, darling. keep being a good girl and you might find me again.

and it’s signed; mr. darkness.

a few days later, as you get home from school, you find a bouquet of pink roses on your bed with a small note attached to it. you look around before opening it.

meet me at the abandoned house on main street friday at ten o’clock.

you smile down at the note, carefully putting it in your bedside table drawer, alongside all the other ones your stalker has been leaving around for you. 

© 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆; i’m thinking of maybe making a series out of this one since you guys are just as obsessed with stalker!matt as i am… i love writing him, let me know if you’d want more! i love you guys x

[foxtrot91]

brave

It’s been six months since Buck and Tommy had their first disastrous date, and it’s not a coincidence that Buck chose Micelli’s for their date tonight. The last week has been rough for them both, and Buck thinks that maybe revisiting where they started could do them both some good. It’s a reminder, if nothing else, that they weathered one storm and they can weather this one too.

It had started with an offhand comment, and before either of them knew it, it had snowballed into their first actual fight. Buck has had arguments with girlfriends before, but something about this one felt different, it felt real, like the stakes were somehow higher than they were in his previous relationships. Eventually, when it was clear that they weren’t getting anywhere, Buck had taken off and found himself at Eddie’s with a pack of beer and a bag of Eddie’s favourite Doritos.

“I just don’t get what his problem is,” Buck says, and then cracks open a bottle. “It’s like he saw the-the lease renewal papers he just – he just…”

“Just?” Eddie prompts, stuffing his face with chips. Buck decides against telling him about the crumbs and Dorito dust stuck in his moustache, figuring he’ll discover it eventually and in the meantime, Buck can quietly laugh about it without Eddie knowing. He deserves some form of entertainment after the night he’s had.

“He asked me to move in with him,” Buck grumbles before grabbing his own handful of chips just to have something to do with his hands. He ignores the way Eddie’s eyes go wide at the admission. “It was out of nowhere a-and I don’t know what to do with that, Eddie. I-I panicked and I said some things I probably shouldn’t have… and then I took off.”

“If you’re not ready to move in with him then just say that,” Eddie says, as if it was that simple. It wasn’t that simple, was the thing, and Buck doesn’t know how to articulate that to his best friend, let alone to Tommy. Buck must take too long to respond because when Eddie continues, he’s looking at Buck with a thoughtful, borderline suspicious expression. “Unless… you’re not-not ready?”

Tapping his knuckles on the wood of Eddie’s table, Buck looks everywhere but Eddie as he gathers his thoughts.

“I-I shouldn’t be ready, right? I mean, we’ve only been together for six months, that’s way too soon.”

“So, it’s not that you’re not ready, but that you think that you shouldn’t be ready?” Buck nods, feeling a little helpless as Eddie looks at him like he’s an idiot, and Buck sighs in frustration. “Okay, I don’t get it. What is this about? Because if you’re ready, and Tommy’s ready, then I’m not sure I see the what the problem is.”

“I just-it just…” Buck pauses, forcing himself to take a breath before continuing. “It came out of nowhere and it just seemed so sudden and I…”

It doesn’t matter that he can’t seem to get the words out, because Eddie has a look of understanding dawning on his face as if he’s suddenly just realized what this is about and Buck lets out a sigh of relief. He can always trust Eddie to understand what’s going on with Buck, if no one else.

“Taylor,” Eddie says, before taking a long draw from his beer.

“Taylor,” Buck repeats in agreement. When Tommy had asked if he’d like to move in, Buck had felt a sudden rush of excitement and he’d almost, almost agreed without thinking. But that excitement had quickly changed into the sharp sting of anxiety as he’d thought about how quickly he and Taylor had jumped into that milestone, and then how quickly it had all fallen apart. Standing there, looking at Tommy, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying that they had an expiration date, and that this move would be the first step towards the end just like it had been with Taylor.

“Listen,” Eddie starts, and Buck knows that tone, it’s the same tone he used when telling Buck not to give up on something before he’d even known what it was before encouraging him to call Tommy. “You and Tommy are not you and Taylor, not even close. And if you’re really not ready for that step then that’s okay, and you need to tell Tommy that. I’m sure he’d understand. But if you are, and you’re just not letting yourself because of a previous bad experience then you need to figure out how to let that go before it hurts something that could be really good for you.”

He’s right, and Buck knows he’s right. He and Tommy have been doing so well together and Buck hates to admit that there’s been this part of him all along that’s just been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Tommy to come to the decision that maybe they’re just better off as friends. “You don’t think it’s too soon?” Buck asks quietly into his drink.

“I think that what’s too soon for some people is just right for others, and only you and Tommy get to decide what’s right for the two of you.” He’s speaking from experience, and Buck experiences a sudden pang of guilt at the reminder of Marisol and what led to Eddie blowing up his life.

Agreeing to give it some more thought, Buck decides to change the topic as a bit of sadness creeps over Eddie’s face. Without another word, Buck moves their location to the living room and puts on one of the telenovelas Eddie likes, and they both settle in for the night.

Eventually, Buck and Tommy had spoken, and had agreed to table talks of moving in together for the time being. Tommy hadn’t understood why Buck had reacted the way he had, and Buck wasn’t sure how to explain that thoughts of moving in together exhilarated and terrified him at the same time. He especially didn’t know how to explain that it’s thoughts of his ex-girlfriend that have him feeling so anxious.

But now that some distance has been put between the fight, and Buck’s had some time to think things through, he knows what he wants. And while things still weren’t quite back to normal between them, Tommy having pulled back slightly since the argument, they’re still them and Buck wants to celebrate that.

“Brings back memories,” Tommy quips once they’re settled into their table. When Buck made the reservation, he’d specifically requested this table, wanting to recreate their original date as much as possible. Hopefully with a much different ending this time.

“Yeah, uh, that’s why I chose it, actually.” Buck feels his face heat slightly at the admission as he glances up at Tommy. He hates that Tommy still looks a little guarded around him, hopes that he can erase that look with what he plans to say. “I thought maybe we could, I-I don’t know, paint over the old memories with new ones?”

That gets him a fond smile before Tommy looks down at the menu, shaking his head before he looks back up. “You’re adorable,” he says, voice soft and fond and Evan feels himself relax slightly at the glimpse of warmth there.

“You said that last time.”

“I meant it then, too.” Another smile, and Buck feels himself melt a little more.

The waiter appears then, and they put in their orders. Instead of sharing a pizza this time they order individually; Buck orders himself the gnocchi, and Tommy choosing the Chicken Parmigiana. Conversation is light as they wait for their food, Bobby is finally back in the captain’s seat which means that Buck is happy to talk about the goings on at the 118 and Tommy is always happy to listen. Tommy tells him about his last shift in turn, about the helicopter rescue of the missing hiker that could’ve gone wrong but didn’t thanks to Tommy and Lucy’s quick thinking, and for the first time since their fight, Buck feel sat peace.

This is what he wants, he thinks as their food arrives, him and Tommy. Whether they’re at a fancy restaurant or lazing about on Tommy’s couch, Tommy is where he feels content and happiest. There’s only two other people who’ve ever made him feel truly at ease and one of them is his sister, and the other is Eddie, and that he gets to count Tommy among that group fills him with so much warmth Buck thinks he could burst with it.

Only you and Tommy get to decide what’s right.

Eddie’s words come back to him as silence settles over the table while they dig into their food. He’s right, six months, twelve months, whatever, they’re all just arbitrary numbers and Buck is tired of letting his past dictate what feels right, right now. They’re nearly finished their meals when Buck sets down his fork with a soft clink, deciding it’s now or never.

“Tommy I uh, I wanted to-”

“—Wait, let… let me go first Evan,” Tommy says, cutting Buck off. “Look, last week I put you on the spot and that wasn’t right.”

“No, Tommy, I-”

Tommy raises a hand, as though silently asking Buck to let him finish and Buck’s mouth snaps closed. “It wasn’t fair to you, is what I’m trying to say, and neither was my reaction when you weren’t ready for that conversation.” He lets out a weary sigh and Buck wants nothing more than to reach across the table and pull him in for a tight hug, but he can tell Tommy has more he wants to say and thinks that maybe he wasn’t the only one who has been stewing on the events of last week. “When I saw that your lease renewal was coming up I just – I knew that I didn’t want to have to wait another year for you to move in with me. I got ahead of myself, and when you didn’t seem on board, I let myself get in my head about it, and I took it out on you and I shouldn’t have.” Tommy pauses there and takes a sip of his wine before continuing. “You’re incredible, Evan, and I think I just got so caught up in how quickly we’ve tackled every other stage of this relationship that I assumed this would be the same, but it’s okay if it’s not. I love you, and you needing more time before we consider that step doesn’t change that, okay?”

Once finished, Tommy reaches across the table to cover Buck’s hand in his own and Buck feels himself let out a long, steady breath. There’s so many different things flying through his head that he struggles to grasp onto one coherent thought. Eventually, he’s able to settle on the one that matters most, which is that he loves this man, quickly followed by the fact that he’d almost said yes that night, before he’d let his fear get the better of him.

“I didn’t renew my lease,” Buck blurts out, knowing that he should’ve started with literally anything else but that’s what came out and he can’t exactly take it back now.

“Evan,” Tommy says, eyes wide, and a memory of Tommy saying his name in that exact same tone flashes through Buck’s memory, only that time they’d been outside and Buck had gotten Tommy’s coffee order wrong.

“I um, I wanted to say yes, when you asked,” Buck starts, picking up the fork that he’d previously put down and fiddling with it as nervous energy rushes through him. “I was going to, a-and then, well, I got in my head a little too? The last person I moved in with, it um, it fell apart, and we’d moved in sort of early in the relationship and I just… I got scared.” He’s talking to his plate now, face heating as he feels Tommy’s hand squeeze over his. “I love you,” he says, turning his hand palm up underneath Tommy’s and squeezing back. “I loved her too, o-or I thought I did, at least, and it still fell apart. I just didn’t want that to happen with you.”

“Evan,” Tommy says again, slightly breathy as he looks at Buck with a warmth that Buck sometimes thinks is reserved just for him.

“But I-I realized that I can’t let that stop me from having what I want now, and what I want, Tommy, is to be with you.”

“Evan, are you sure?” Tommy asks, sounding a little disbelieving, and Buck can’t exactly blame him after the abrupt one-eighty he’s done.

“Yes, I am, i-if the offer is still on the table.” He really hopes it is because he wasn’t lying about choosing not to renew his lease. He could probably talk to the landlord if needed, they have a good relationship, and Buck is sure he’d prefer to keep things as is over having to search for a new tenant. But still, he’s really hoping he won’t need to do that.

“Of course it’s still on the table,” Tommy says emphatically, looking a little dazed.

Before Buck can answer they’re interrupted by their waiter checking in on them and offering dessert. Neither of them has to think very long about it before they’re ordering a slice of carrot cake to share. He feels giddy as they exchange excited glances over their shared cake.

“So, about my couch…” Buck says when they’re about halfway through their cake, trailing off as he lets the sentence hang there. They’d been discussing the finer points of Buck moving in with Tommy but had yet to address furniture.

“I seem to recall you making a big deal in the past about my couch being your favourite,” Tommy responds with a grin. “But-” he interrupts Buck before he can retort, holding up a hand, “as you already know, I have been working on finishing the basement. If you bring your set over, then that just means we won’t need to buy new furniture. Win-win.”

“I like the way you think,” Buck agrees. Grinning, Buck takes another bite of cake, not missing the way Tommy eyes his mouth as he slides the spoon out from between his lips.

Tommy takes a bite of his own, and then gives a mournful look to the near empty plate. “We should have ordered two slices,” he says with a mournful sigh.

Laughing, Buck pushes the plate towards Tommy, offering him the last of it. “We could always just order another to go,” he suggests. “There was an apple spice cake that sounded really good.”

Tommy seems to seriously consider it as he savours the last bite of their shared carrot cake before he shakes his head and looks up at Buck. “Mm, no, I think I’m going to be hungry for something else when we get home.”

Buck feels his breath hitch at the low tone coupled with the sudden heat of Tommy’s gaze. And well, Buck can definitely get on board with that, is always up for it the second Tommy so much as looks in his direction. But still- “Tommy Kinard? Turning down cake? It’s like I don’t even know you,” he teases, unable to help himself.

“Baby,” he says, voice husky as he leans forward over the table, “I think you’ve misunderstood. No one said anything about turning down cake. I’ve just decided I want an entirely different variety… one not offered on restaurant menus.” He gives Buck a wink before he sits back and flags down their waiter for their check and Buck… Buck thinks he’s going to have trouble walking out of this restaurant without embarrassing himself. Tommy eyes him as he pays the bill, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smug smirk as he stands from his seat. “You coming, babe?”

Not yet, he thinks, but definitely later. “I um, yeah, yes,” he says before clumsily getting out of his seat, hip knocking into the sharp corner of the table. Tommy’s laugh fills the space between them and Buck wishes he could bottle it because it’s quickly becoming his favourite sound.

As they leave the restaurant he looks over at Tommy, who’s grinning back at him and has the realization that he gets to have this. The laughter and the belonging and the bone deep love that he feels, he gets to have it, it’s his to keep if he’s brave enough to take it.

Standing next to Tommy, it’s easy to feel brave.

Link

[burn-before-reading]

moving in w joost fluff? eating takeaway pizza on the floor bc there isn’t a dinner table yet, unpacking old stuff from trips together, discussing where to hang paintings or how to furnish the place and that kind of stuff. just total domestic bliss. plzzzz I’m begging <33

Floor Pizza & Photo Albums

joost klein x reader

after finally moving in together, the two of you reminisce on how you two met and start planning your future.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: Im a total sucker for domestic shit i love this request so much. Also as someone who has moved at least once a year the past couple years i kinda need a chill moving party at some point aaaaaaaa

“ Do you want me to set the last box over here?” Joost gestures to a pile of boxes labelled KITCHEN and you nod. Setting is down, he takes a look at the work you two have left, dozens of boxes scattered around your guys new house. The two of you had planned to move in together after he asked you about a year prior. So after five years of dating, looking at too many places together, and waiting Joost to finish his tour, you guys finally found the right place to settle down.

“Thats the last box from the truck, right?” you asked, leaning up against the kitchen island.

“ya, i think so. this took longer than I thought honestly. we should have hired movers.” he laughed, wiping the sweat from his hands.

“yeah, and now we gotta unpack everything. and we can’t fully do that till all the furniture we ordered shows up.” you look to the barren kitchen and living room situation. “at least we got a mattress.” you add clicking your tongue in thought a few times before looking at him and smiling “ soo… Dinner?”

-

This moment reminded you of your first apartment after college, but a little less lonely. The two of your sitting in a makeshift picnic in your soon to be living room, old blanket laid out to protect the hardwood from any crumbs from a bag of chips you grabbed. A box of pizza open and slowly being devoured with some beer to wash it down. a bit more relaxing than your first night at your last apartment. sitting on an air mattress, eating microwave ramen and rewatching a movie on your laptop. yeah, this time was a lot better.

“ That was not the first conversation we had i promise you.” you chuckled as the two of you reminisced on your guys past.

“ Yes it was! I met you at Alanis’s birthday! You complimented my tattoos and you were wearing that, that one thing.”

“that one thing.”

“yeah!”

“very specific.. and that wasn’t the first time we met.” you took a sip of your beer. “it was the week before actually.”

“No, I would’ve remembered you… wait, were you at the concert?” he asked, now more intrigued than ever. his head titled slightly in curiosity.

“I was. Alanis invited me.” you nodded.

“why don’t I remember you there?”

“because you got completely hammered the second the show was over. by the time she properly introduced us you were almost black out drunk.” You teased. He just winced.

“wow, im surprised you even agreed to a date if that was your first impression of me.”

“well I already had seen you at your worst, and you still looked pretty cute.” you smirked and leaned over to kiss him on his cheek before standing up and walking over to one of the boxes.

“Schatje, we can start unpacking tomorrow. Its late.”

“I know I know, Im looking for something.” You rummaged through one of the boxes with your name on it. After a second you found what you were looking for and pulled out a book before heading back over to a confused Joost, sitting back down on the floor next to him and leaning over so your shoulders touched. You handed the book to him and opened the cover up to reveal a photo album.

“I started a photo album after moving here.”

“I remember you used to bring those disposable little cameras everywhere. Thats why I bought you that polaroid.” you nodded and continued flipping through.

First few pictures were of your old apartment, the one you had just moved out of. The sad air mattress, a blurry mirror selfie, the old cafe you used to go to.

“after the first month I met Alanis. She saw me at the same cafe all the time and said I looked sad.” You pointed to the first picture of her you took at the cafe.

“Forever glad she befriended you by the way.” Joost murmured and kissed the side of your head. your face grew slightly red but you continued the small album tour.

“yeah, me too, moving to a new country was definitely overwhelming, but two months later,” you flipped through a couple more photos, your first day at work, a couple more outings with Alanis. “I met you, unofficially.” you joked. The top picture was him performing at his concert, He was shirtless and screaming some lyrics at the crowd. The picture below was of the two of you. He clearly was wasted, and had him arm around your neck. You were smiling, facing the camera, slightly buzzed, and the two of you were making the sign of the horns with your free hands. “you saw my camera and insisted we get a picture together.”

“How had i never seen these before? and Why am I barely learning of this now?” his hand touched the picture softly, like he was trying to absorb the memory of your first meeting.

“It was for like two minutes if that makes you feel any better. I had to leave immediately after. I just felt rude leaving without complimenting your performance. And I just never wanted to correct you when we were in public.” you reassured him, but he just kept gently brushing over the photos.

“can we frame it?” he asked. You shrugged your shoulders.

“if you want? I don’t wanna take it out but I can make a copy?” you replied, but joost had pulled the picture out and was stood up to walk to fireplace mantel and held the picture up. “be careful! your hands are greasy.” you followed him with the book to see what he was doing.

“It should go on this wall right here. in the center.” he imagined.

“we can, but its like, super tiny. shouldn’t we put something bigger over there? we can do like a collage maybe.” you saw the lightbulb go off in his head at the mention of a collage and you clutched the album in your arms tighter. “wash your hands first, then ill let you start pulling all the photos out.” he set the picture down so it rest on the mantel and stood back to admire the temporary decoration.

“Volmaakt.” (perfect)

“Well if my photos are going on the wall over here then,” you went to another box and pulled out a frame that had a funny portrait Joost had drawn of you on your fifth date. “I want this to go in the living room as well. we gotta have a whole art wall honestly.”

“I bet I could commision a painting from Daan to go above the couch.” he went and moved some boxes around to make the “couch” and another for a place holder coffee table and sat down on them. “ the tv can go over there. so you can hook up your game console.” he gestured in front of him then stood up again.

“maybe the book shelf can go somewhere on that wall?”

“hmm.” you stand next to him and stick your hands out in a frame shape and squint your eyes. “I can see it. You know what I think?” Your hands go back down and you look and him and grin.

“If we invite everyone over tomorrow they can unpack and move all the furniture for us.”

“They definitely will if we pay them in beer. Appie said he would bring my dogs over tomorrow anyway. I miss them.”

“me too, that's why the house feels so quiet.” you reply.

“well I can fix that.” joost goes pulls his laptop out of a bag and starts playing ABBA.

“The neighbors are going to hate us.” you laugh as he starts dancing and motions you to join in. “actually keep dancing I need to capture this.” you scrounge around in a bag of your for another little film camera and snap a quick picture of the floor pizza and Joost having his own mini dance party. satisfied with your documentation you go to join him, the two of you vibing to Gimmie Gimmie.

When the song ends you realize how tired you are so the two of you decide to retire for the night, and deal with the mess in the morning. Heading to the makeshift bed you had set up earlier with the queen sized mattress and a mountain of pillows, blankets, and stuffies. You simply let yourself collapse on the pile and Joost joins you, the exhaustion hitting you both. He feels his way through the blankets till he finds your arms and pulls you close to him so you guys can cuddle. In the morning you can deal with unpacking and furniture, but now you two can be next to each other, in the same bed, officially.

[ask-missparker]

—This is your place?

—

Arron & Mia - Father Daughter Duo

Continue this fanfic

Summary: Sometimes your father can see right through you while you’re still alive…

Mention of -> May Parker, Skye, and her friends

Warning: Some angst and fluff

——

After the simple agreement was made by the two parties, they headed out to one of the homes in the small village. And if anyone had to be honest, The Afterlife, was actually kinda beautiful.

Greenery everywhere, people with powers young and old walking around, guardsmen at some point of entrance and other things. It was actually quite common and comforting with its architecture as well. Modern architecture with a classic design inspired by European and Chinese architectural elements.

Arron led his daughter to his quiet home in the mist of the valley.

This is your place? She wondered.

It seem like any other classic rustic style house, with wood floors, gray walls and a combination of modern furniture with a comfortable vintage interior. To be honest, she liked it. It seemed like a house you could see in a whole wooden doll house. Arron could sense she liked it, even if Mia wasn’t going to admit it.

He gestured for her to sit down and get comfortable.

As soon as Mia sat down on the black leather couch and lean back against the cushions she hummed. She then asked, “Alright..what do you want to know?”

“Hold on.” He replied softly chuckling as tossing her a water bottle, guessing she might be thirsty or something. Of course she caught it.

Mia nodded as her lips pouted slightly and looked around. She didn’t see any signs of other life in the house or anything. She thought she would see a woman’s jacket or even a bra laying around, but she saw nothing of the sort. Stupid posters on the wall, weapons laying around and an empty box of junk food? Nope. He was probably hiding them somewhere safer.

No beer bottles either? Maybe in the kitchen he has them? She wondered.

She didn’t know weather to lie here about her thoughts about—she realized it was silent for too long.

Suddenly she politely says, “This place looks nice..”

Arron smiled, “Thanks. Are you hungry? You were asleep for a while.”

“No. I’m fine.”

Lie. Arron clocked that from a mile away.

She was starving.

“I’mma get you something to eat.” He said before walking away.

“But I’m..” She says trying to protest but was caught off by his sudden tone.

He repeated firmly, “I’mma get you something to eat.”

Moments went by before Arron returned with a simple sandwich. Ham and cheese. She glanced at it for a moment in hesitation as she took the plate from him. After a few seconds, she took a bite and murmured in disbelief, realizing that he added two different slices of cheese with turkey ham.

Swiss and cheddar cheese with melted butter, layered with a nice slice of ham, between two slices of wheat bread.

“This is good.” She mumbled before taking a few more bites.

Truth. Arron clocked that too and smiled.

“Didn’t think this would be your definition of ‘get you something to eat’..” She mumbled as she ate, glancing up at him.

He cross his arms and scoffed, “What were you expecting? A bag of chips and a bottle of beer?”

“Well when you put it that way, it sounds pretty much the exact idea one would expect.”

“A beer with a bag of chips, would not do well after you been asleep and injured.”

“How did you..?”

“Don’t ask. I just know.”

She stayed silent and just ate.

Arron obverse her as he took a deep sip of water. His daughter’s face with completely May Parker, except her eyes and hairline, that’s all him. Hell, the way she looked at him in the sunlight, he clocked her skin tone to be similar to him. The way she sat reminded him of his sister.

Her smile and the way she presented herself, was her mother’s but her quiet attitude was him.

An impulsive spirit and a strong desire or sense to fire when ready, if she’s not trusted by anyone.

However. There was this glow to her that he couldn’t quite understand, this sweet little girl, had still been trying to figure out how the world worked. This flickering grin in her eyes that’s clearly been knocked over but rebuilt over time and time again.

There were other features he could not quite grasp yet.

He wondered if she was loved and appreciated by others…

It’s one this ability allowed him to see, the truth and lies within someone. And because Amelia was in a vulnerable position, it was a matter of whether he can see all of it or just none.

“Wha..?” Amelia said softly as she finished eating and looking at him.

“Nothing..just, you look so much like your mom. It’s scary how much you reflect her…and me.” He replied in a hush tone, his thick voice shining through.

“Oh. I thought people just said that as a compliment to a daughter and mother…”

“For your case, from the last time I saw your mama, yeah, you look pretty much like her.”

That actually got a smile from Mia. An actual smile, not the half-ass ones that he used to see. Her soft smile lit up her cheekbones and her eyes.

Arron couldn’t help but smile back at her. It was infectious.

“Well, I gotta ask. How—what are your abilities? Aside from the skills you already possess.” She asked leaning her elbow against her couches armrest and rest her chin in her hand.

He smiled a little knowing that was probably on her mind but nonetheless he answered her. He scoffed, “I can see if someone is lying or telling me the truth about whatever it is that happened last. It’s how I did—still do my job.”

“Oh, wow. Nothing gets past you, huh?”

“Not always, I have to be focused and present myself to do it. I can sense it coming internally.”

He wasn’t even going to tell her about the shadow part, that was only meant for him to see. But the rest was correct in what he said.

“That’s actually kinda cool.” Mia said in a deep blunt yet soft tone, her normal high pitched voice still shining through.

He gave her a half smile and chuckled, “Yeah? Here I thought it was funny joke to someone like you.”

“Well, I mean, you’re kinda like a human lie detector, if that makes sense…?”

“Yeah, no, that’s right. It just means I’m honest for the sake of being honest.”

There was a moment of silence that washed over them before Arron decided to ask, “So, what do you do?”

“What?” She asked taking a sip of the water bottle.

“Our deal was that I get to know you a bit, right? So, what do you do skill wise?”

“Oh, ummm, I’m a field agent and a bit of a technical expert at SHIELD. Scouting places, going on tours, hunting down people and recruiting the right ones for the job.”

Arron couldn’t help but grin hearing that. He wasn’t the least bothered concerned about her job, he should be ashamed or worried about her health seeing how she was injured, but he was impressed.

Look at her size. She was tiny and she managed to keep up with the big gun?! And young too! He thought.

However his attitude slipped into his lips as he said, “No way in hell, you do all of that. I don’t even think you can handle that much weight on your shoulders or skill level.”

She blinked not expecting his response to be that and shifted in her seat, “W-what is that supposed to mean? Your insulting me my line of work?”

“No, no, sweetheart, just don’t expect for you to do all of that. You got your ass handed to you on your way here.” He replied smoothly.

“I—well, in my defense, i did not expect to be blasted and I been having a rough day so far…”

“Okay, we’ll see later in the field how well you can fire a gunshot. What about power wise?”

“Power wise?”

——

Arron gave her a look, as if she was dumb. It’s not like he asked her to take a shit in a hole or something. He just asked for her abilities. Mia was brought in due to her lack of knowledge of her own other skills, not for her relation to other players.

“Look, I’m not gonna you shit if you don’t start talking.” He added leaning against the wall to look down at her frame, then sighed realizing he sounded harsh and spoke again, “Sorry. I’m not gonna push you then if you’re not willing to tell me. And that’s okay, angel.”

If Mia had to be honest, she would’ve never thought she would be in this position ever. She seen countless of time like this, where people would have absolutely no interest or sympathy for telling her story. Or, she was on the other end of it all, listening to people’s opinions and concerns about their lives.

How they were treated by others, traumatized, looking for some kind of purpose and sympathy. The list goes on. Hell, some of her friends were still going through their own struggles with their trauma and transition to be better.

She was always the one to listen, humor the other person or try and convince them to speak out about their own problems. Lending a comfortable hand and words of support for them.

She spent half of her time making sure everyone else was okay and never really cared to talk about her feelings, pushing them away or in particular trying to make herself look good. No one really asked or knew how to comfort her, it was always her doing the job for them. They don’t always notice the signs but she does.

So the fact that Arron was asking her about something like this…that was a first.

Coulson, May and maybe even a friend or two would be truly concerned for her. But this was a big first.

After a moment she spoke, “Power wise..I can sense, manipulation and control someone’s emotions. I can feel their presence and thoughts in a way.”

“How did it happen?” He asked softly, surprised she actually told him.

“After a rumbling trip to Puerto Rico islands…an accident occurred between us trying to get an item before Hydra did…but it didn’t go as planned because Skye went down there, in the caves, with a fellow agent…that’s when the destination came, a huge pile of debris and rock came crashing down..I rushed in to get Skye and um..Tripp…soon enough I was blasted back and surrounded by rock..”

“Oh jeez…oh damn! Are you kidding me right? You actually survived that long trip?”

“Yeah, I survived and everyone was questioned about it..even scanned for any kind of damage…but I kept getting headaches and nausea..a weird sensation in my chest, in my head..like I can barely breathe…”

“You were being consumed by your powers. They were slowly coming in…w-was there anything specific that must’ve triggered it?”

“Did you not just hear the whole incident?”

He chuckled light and scoffed, “No, I heard it. You sensed a lot all at once. But what exactly happened that you remembered?”

“We were grieving an agent, a friend of ours..Trip was down there with Skye, when i rushed in, all I saw was Tripp’s ashes and rock surrounding where he once stood…and back at base, everyone was fighting, sad, and distant with each other..” She explained with a slight scoff, “..umm, at a lot of anger and frustration..I almost snapped..”

“Did you? Did you snap?”

“..eventually I snapped, I accidentally fell into a trap where I screamed at the group and manipulated them to stop their anger for a second…they looked at me confused…everyone didn’t question it and went on with their grief, until I went to the a friends place to try and convince myself I was fine..”

Amelia kept explaining what she could remember and Arron just listened, no advice or cheesy comments of support. He didn’t even try to downplay how she felt, like one of her friends did. He just listened an awful amount of listen as he went to side beside her. Occasionally he nodded or said something in comfort.

Yes, she was still dealing with a lot and couldn’t control when it happened, or when people got mad. Other times she would downplay her own behavior or chalk it up to her going crazy. But she felt kinda good, being able to talk about it and the cool breeze from the window helped.

After a moment Arron said, “I think you were sent here to try and relax, Amelia. Get away from your worries and struggles, try and control yourself for a bit…maybe meet someone who gets it?”

“What do you mean..?” She asked softly.

“From the stories I heard from being here, the second you start acting different or your character becomes more…oddly enough not the version of you people like, they start to behave differently.”

“They judge you for some simple action that happened to you…all my friends met me, before this incident, and now I am just a bit different.”

He gave her shoulder a small squeeze and then rubbed small circles on her back. He wasn’t sure if he should give her a side hug yet, but Mia lean against his shoulder instantly. That cause him to wrap an arm around her gently. She buried her face into his chest feeling a sense of comfort and felt his compassion, despite it being under that tough exterior and tension.

——

The two went on to talk about other things. School, friends, life experiences and cracking a few jokes more often than not. There were moments where the topics got serious, like when he asked about her dysfunctional relationship with her friends or her line of work.

The two even joked about favoring certain types of films than others. Hey, they did need some conversation starter!

Arron often tried to give her a simple explanation when she asked him about his past missions, people he met in life, his relationship with his sister Bobbi and how he met her mother. He honestly thought he wouldn’t have to talk much about May, but he knew it was coming.

“Your mother was honestly one of a kind in her own right.” He said with a soft grin, “Creative, strong, sweet as hell and stubborn…when she knew she wanted something, she did it. We honestly fought a lot about stupid things…but I never remember how I met her.”

“How? Mom said it was a trip to a friend’s wedding when you met.” She said smiling.

“Yeah, some friend of mine had a wedding he was doing to and he thought, he could bring me as a plus one. I went to humor him and at the party, h saw your mother standing outside the balcony talking with someone. And I walked over. She smiled.”

“Yeah? Cause I know my mom got a pretty smile but still…”

“Well, she had her smile, her short hair and a hot black dress that—”

That’s when Mia made a face and shook her head, “Nope! Nah, nuh uh, don’t finish that sentence. I get it..I got the picture.”

Arron smirked snickering at her reaction, “Hey, you asked!”

“But that’s not what I meant..”

“Yeah, sure, but that’s what I meant by remembering that day.”

——

There was still uncertainty and speculation about whether this was a good thing so far. It hung in the air. But so far, it wasn’t so bad. Yeah, sure, they had some stuff they still didn’t address about their relationship, question they needed to ask themselves and things that possibly might be useful for Mia’s stay here.

That was just the surface level stuff. But honestly, it seemed like neither of them wanted to go beyond that level anyway.

Plus, Mia was itching to check on Skye as well, despite knowing she was possibly okay and trying to adjust to the circumstances of her life. The situation in general.

But before Arron or Mia could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. He held up a hand when he saw her reach for her pocket for a gun. He shook his head and stood up to answer it.

The moment it was opened, Mia got a glimpse of who it was.

In front of her stood a young man. Dirty blonde hair, a light complexion and soft yet sharp green eyes. He wore a burgundy shirt, dark brown pants and boots, but you can tell he had a weapon in his pocket. He smiled at Arron but then caught sight of Mia.

He spoke to Arron for a few moments, talking about security measures and a few new developments in the area. How there were a couple of other people who wanted to talk with him about shipping containers and supplies. Arron nodded gently.

He then noticed how Mia was catching the blonde’s gaze and how she responded with a small smile.

Arron put a hand on her shoulder before saying, “Jeremy, this is my daughter Mia.”

Jeremy smiled holding out a hand, “Jeremy Michaelis.”

Mia shook his hand smiling, “Amelia Parker. Nice to meet you.”

Arron smiled, “I have work to do. How about Jeremy show you around?”

“Great.” Mia replied softly smiling.

“Cool.” Jeremy added right after still smiling as he chuckled.

With that, Arron left leaving the two of them alone to their own devices.

——

Ahhh! That’s all folks and that’s how she met Jeremy 😉

Please let me know what you think about Mia and her dad so far?

- @gcthvile @meiramel l l @aidanxsophxoxo @blueboirick @wizzzardofoz z z @finlayholmes @ethan-lensherr @elzabeth-stark k @marvelsfavoriteuncle @sci-fi-lexcon @ask-starrk @therealdaydreamstark @luna-d-marsh @rickb-chaos @the-x-ladiesofnyc @trulysummersprivate @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre

[fuckkbrunch]

I'm going to start this by saying a big fuck you to Amazon. I tried to find hatch chilis everywhere. I even found a few websites that claimed to ship them to Canada, but they'd shut down a few years ago.

The only place I could find them was Amazon, and I refuse to give that bald, soulless fuck any of my money. So.

I did some googling, and found that Anaheim peppers are grown from the same seed as hatch chilis, but they're grown in different environments. They have Anaheim peppers at my local grocery store, so that's good enough for me.

Downside being that I could only buy them fresh, where the hatch chilis are able to be purchased pre roasted.

Happy to finally get to this one. I've been looking forward to it since the beginning of all this. I love me some braised beef.

No beans, no rice. This one is New Mexico style, so it's all about the meat and chilis. Pretty straightforward ingredient list.

After I bought these Anaheim peppers (top row), I went to the better grocery store for poblanos (bottom row) and saw that they also carried Anaheims, for half the price. Fuck sake. Never seen them there before. Of course.

Broiler time baby. If you pop these into a paper bag while they're still hot, the skin comes off so easily. The flesh was so soft it was really annoying to remove the seeds. I don't mind heat in my chili - if its not hot it's not chili - but I hate when there's fifty million seeds floating around.

Beef cubes in seasoned flour, seared on all sides, set aside. Onion and garlic in the pot, soften and add your spices, harissa (in place of tomato paste, he suggests this in the recipe header) and beer. The whole cooking method is the same as any stew, or chili. Most braised beef recipes.

Found this Mexican oregano in a fancy grocery store early in the year, which Tony says you should use if you can get it. I'd never seen "whole" oregano before, these are so spiky. I chopped them up a bit, but I still found a little twig when I was eating.

Peppers all skinned, mostly seeded, and roughly chopped. Chuck the rest of the ingredients in the pot (seared beef, peppers and broth) and simmer, covered, for an hour and a half, or so he says.

I tasted it at the 90 minute mark and it was pretty watery still. It also had a ton of fat on the surface, which I skimmed off. Tony makes no mention of this, but it was 100% necessary. I added salt, let it simmer without a lid for another 45 minutes to an hour, and skimmed it again. Then it was looking like chili should.

The beef I used for this had been in my freezer for more than a few months, but this was still so good. Serve with sliced jalapeno, sour cream and toasted corn tortillas. I used tortilla chips, even though I have corn tortillas in my freezer...

I wish I made a double batch.

| New Mexico-Style Beef Chili |

Taste is a 4 out of 5. Thick with a good heat level. Very happy with how it turned out.

Difficulty is a 3 out of 5. I'll say a 2 if you don't have to broil your own peppers.

Time was about 3 hours, which includes my extra hour of cook time.

Now I wanna try this with other types of peppers. Going to keep my eye out for when beef goes on sale...

[lucas-grey]

Hey Mini! I hope you're doing okay, thought I'd send you an ask ☺️

We're able to see 47's ideal safehouse in Freelancer (or at least, a lot of aesthetic choices he would probably like). What do you think Grey's ideal safehouse would look like? Where would it be?

Thank you for this interesting question 💕

We see a few small details of Grey's flat in Berlin, which looks quite industrial with the brick walls and pipes in the background. He doesn't live in Colorado, but according to his mercenaries he comes and goes, but the bedroom in the house is used by Rose, while the rest of the bedrooms belong to the men and women of his militia.

So let's put together what we can at least assume about Grey's lifestyle 😁

Grey is messy. If you look at the basement in Colorado, the whole thing is absolute chaos. Organised chaos, maybe, but messy all the way. His desk doesn't look particularly tidy either. An ashtray full of cigarettes. Crumpled paper everywhere. Waste bin missed? Never mind!

So what does that tell us about Grey? Well, he seems to place little value on order. He certainly has a system in his chaos, but he places less emphasis on order. Clothes may not need to be hung away immediately, dirty dishes pile up in the sink, you name it.

Quite the opposite of 47, who is very neat and accurate, at least in my headcanon 😌

But in fact, there is the option in Freelancer to make some parts of the house look like what I would see for Grey, rather than 47. For example, the wardrobe:

Or that little shed:

Open chip bags, beer bottles and used plates while mixing poison and explosives looks more like Grey to me 😅

Now when it comes to his safehouse in general and its location, I think Grey, like 47, has several locations.

The flat in Berlin gives the impression of being quite central, as we also keep seeing the headlights of cars driving past the windows. I think Grey prefers a flat in the middle of the city so maybe that is his "headquarters".

Maybe he feels more comfortable in the city, surrounded by lots of people. Being alone in the city is another thing than being alone in the forest somewhere. I think after all that Grey has been through, maybe he can't stand solitude and quiet so well. Maybe he needs that, that opportunity to step out the door and be in the middle of what we call "normality". To go to Cafés, to sit on a park bench and see the people around him and realise that he is not confined and isolated anywhere.

I think that's why he prefers a flat in the city. And a city like Berlin is very good for staying anonymous. I live in a big German city myself and here it's easy to be on your own and still not feel really lonely.

I can imagine that Grey likes that feeling. Being alone, but not feeling lonely. Being anonymous and yet somehow part of a whole.

[spacebobastories]

Last Friday Night

I have been listening to a lot of early 2000s to 2011 songs and thought 'What if I made a one shot of the 141 and Louis just having a massive house party?' well here you guys go!

Warnings: There is a little make out scene so MDNI!!

There's a stranger in my bed There's a pounding in my head Glitter all over the room Pink flamingos in the pool I smell like a minibar DJ's passed out in the yard Barbies on the barbecue This a hickey or a bruise?

Louis's house was an absolute wreck. Multicolored streamers littered the entire front and backyard, the house and inside. Empty beer and soda cans were scattered everywhere, some where even in the trees. Inside the house was worse, furniture was overturned, confetti covered the floors and the smell of sex, alcohol, sweat still lingered in the air. Upstairs in Louis's bedroom, five bodies were piled on the bed. Louis groaned loudly as he was the first to wake up, slowly sitting up and gripping his pounding head.

"W-what the hell happened?" He groaned as he looked around the room, squinting in pain at the bright sunlight streaming through the open window. The redhead looked down and saw he was half naked, only his jeans were on. The bed shifted and he looked over, laughing but soon cringed as he felt like someone was smashing a hammer against his head. On his left side was Johnny who was butt naked, laying on his stomach. He had a blue party hat on that was crooked, almost falling off of his head. Kyle's arm was thrown over the Scottish man's waist, Kyle was fully clothed though he had his shirt unbuttoned and there were bite marks all over his chest and stomach.

A loud snore to his right startled him and he saw Simon on his back, his iconic black surgical mask still on his face. He was fully clothed as well. Last but not least, John was laying on top of Simon, a loud snore occasionally escaping him, John was half naked, wearing very tight black briefs. Along his back were scratches and bite marks. Louis stared blankly at the men in his bed, he remembered wanting to have a house party, but couldn't remember when it got this bad.

He flinched as the sharp ding of his phone went off and he cursed softly as he patted around the bed, Johnny let out a heavy sigh as Louis had to reach over the Scottish man and Kyle to get his phone.

"God damn it okay...oh my god"

Louis's eyes widened as he scrolled through Instagram at the pictures of the massive party at his home. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple

"John might actually kill me...!"

"This party is going to be massive~!" Louis laughed as he was on Johnny's shoulders. He felt the Scottish man's shoulders move with laughter as he helped Louis hang up the streamers.

"Yeah it is. I can't wait to get wasted."

"We have to try and not get arrested, like last time." Kyle walked in with large bags of chips and set them on the large table next to the kitchen.

"Nah, we won't get arrested! We have John and Simon here, the responsible ones." Louis chuckled as he was set down and leaned up to give Johnny a kiss. "Thanks, love." The redhead winked and let out a yelp as Johnny pinched his ass.

"You can ride my shoulders anytime, lad." He smiled down at him and Louis wiggled his eyebrows with grin "Might have to take you up on that offer."

"We have the beer, Louis" Louis looked over as John walked into the room carrying a cooler, Simon following after him with one case of Miller Light under one arm and Genesis under the other. John had a dark green knit short sleep top that showed off his delicious looking arms along with some black pants that hugged his thighs.

Simon had on a black hoodie with a skull hand in a peace sign and black cargo pants, although he still looked amazing in it, the hoodie doing nothing to hide his massive body.

Johnny had on an white button up shirt that had black flowers, the white faded into black. The shirt was unbuttoned and he had on a white tank under shirt that showed off his toned arms. He had some form fitting grey jeans that hugged his amazing ass.

Kyle looked absolutely amazing in his black jeans that also hugged his form, but instead of a t-shirt, he had on a cream color button up shirt with red flowers going up it. The cream color paired well with his skin and Louis wanted to jump all four men.

"Thanks, hon, you can put the cooler by the table. This is going to be so much fun." Louis smiled as he watched John move over to the table, Simon right behind him. The party starts at 1 and its 11 right now so they had time to finish up some things before the people start to arrive.

"Let's try and not get the police called on us again." John spoke as he helped Simon put the beer in the cooler.

"That was just one time, John." Kyle laughed and lightly swatted Johnny as the man gave him a look, mischief swirling in his blue eyes. "I think it was at least three times, lad." The Scottish man laughed along with Kyle and Louis smiled. "We'll try, John. No promises though."

Louis did in fact, not keep his promise. The party was in full swing, the music was loud, the atmosphere felt electric and everyone was having a grand time. Johnny was already shit faced as he, Louis and Kyle were in the spare bedroom making out. Johnny let out a drunken giggle as Kyle pushed him on the bed. Kyle wasn't as shit faced but he was pretty tipsy, Louis was right behind Kyle, already giggling and laughing as he hopped around on one foot to try and get his pants off.

"Come 'ere you...you beautiful *hic* man." Johnny slurred as he sat up to pull Kyle down and the man laughed as he landed on Johnny, immediately starting to make out with him. "W-wait~!" Louis whined as he forgot about his pants and stumbled over to the two men making out.

On the opposite side of the house...

"I can't believe they talked us into this." John muttered as he pushed through the literal crowd of people in the backyard. Simon was close behind, giving everyone death glares. He still wasn't used to large crowds, so when the Three Musketeers. (Louis, Kyle and Johnny) wanted to have a party, the answer was no...at first. Until Kyle looked at Simon and John with those pretty eyes and they somehow said yes.

Oh how he wished he had said no and ignored those eyes.

"This is getting out of control. It's 12 am and people are literally shit faced." John and Simon were the ones who usually got the three out of trouble, as they were the youngest of the five. But this was getting out of hand. They lost the three men, last time John saw them, Johnny was already shit faced, Louis and Kyle had looked drunk and all three of them were all over each other. That was hours ago.

"Time to find them and end this party." John yelled out to Simon as they entered the house, it looked like a literal club as they once again pushed past the sea of people and upstairs. It was quitter upstairs, some people lingered but soon moved downstairs as Simon glared at them. John sighed in slight amusement as he heard moans and whines coming from the guest bedroom and he glanced over at Simon who looked ready to kick all the people out.

John opened the door and stepped inside, along with Simon. Johnny was fully naked with a half naked Louis happily (and drunkenly) kissing him. Kyle was fully clothed, although his shirt was unbuttoned and he had Johnny's cock in and down his throat. Both of the older men didn't seem surprised as they watched their men on the bed. Simon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Louis pulled away from Johnny, who whined at the lost of contact but immediately groaned and arched his back as Kyle tightened his throat around him. "Si, John~" The redhead slurred as he happily got, stumbled, off the bed and over to the two men. John sighed as he caught Louis, turning a heated gaze away from Kyle and Johnny and down at his love.

"Join us~!" He purred as he leaned up for a kiss, practically purring in happiness as John kissed him back.

"You three are pissed drunk. We're ending the party." Simon spoke when Louis pulled away.

"What??? nooooo." He slurred as he moved away from John and to Simon who opened his arms for the younger man.

"We're having funnn." He whined out and rubbed himself on Simon like a dog in heat. "J-Johnny and Kyle are having fun. Let me make you feel good..." Simon gritted his teeth and bit back a groan as Louis cupped the growing bulge in his pants.

"mm, I would love to, red, but you are drunk. It's time to rest." Simon's voice dipped as he looked down at the redhead, seeing a dark blush over his cheeks.

John walked over to Kyle and Johnny, the Scottish man was whining and gasping as he came in Kyle's mouth, the pretty man drinking it greedily, not letting a drop go to waste. John was rock hard and so was Simon, but they knew the three would regret it in the morning if they didn't stop the party. Not like they would remember what happened anyway.

"What good boys you are. Kyle you didn't waste a drop." Kyle groaned at the tone of John's voice and Johnny looked ready to jump the man. But John smiled and leaned down to give both Johnny and Kyle a kiss. "It's time to sleep now, boys. Let's get you cleaned up and in bed, yeah?"

It took a little while to get everyone calmed down, Simon and John had to carry the boys upstairs because they couldn't walk. Then was the slow process of getting everyone out of the house. Louis giggled and hiccupped as he snuggled against Johnny who was out like a light, Kyle close behind. "So much fun..." He slurred as he placed a messy kiss on Johnny's shoulder and eventually passed out as well.

Simon walked up the stairs of the now very quiet house. It was 3 in the morning and he was exhausted, he did have a few drinks but not enough to get wasted. He knew the three would get shit faced and he was correct. They would need to clean all of this up, but that was for tomorrow. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

John deeply sighed as he closed the door, the last person finally gone and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Never again will this happen." He grumbled as he looked around the destroyed house. It was a freaking mess. A mess they would clean up tomorrow. He also made his way upstairs, like Simon, he also had a few drinks but he could hold his liquor. He finally made it upstairs, taking off his clothes until he was down to his briefs. Simon was already asleep, so was everyone else and he smiled as he looked at his lovers. They could most definitely be a hand full but he wouldn't trade them for anything.

John turned off the light and walked over to where Simon was asleep, leaning down and climbing on the larger man who opened his arms wrapped them around John's waist.

"This cannot happen again." Simon's baritone voice cut through the silence and John chuckled as he felt himself drifting off.

"Agreed."

Last Friday night, yeah, we danced on tabletops And we took too many shots, think we kissed, but I forgot Last Friday night, yeah, we maxed our credit cards And got kicked out of the bar, so we hit the boulevard Last Friday night, we went streaking in the park Skinny dipping in the dark then had a ménage à trois Last Friday night, yeah, I think we broke the law Always say we're gonna stop-op, oh-woah

But this Friday night Do it all again

[miss-ari]

A Non-Comprehensive List of "Foods That Don't Really Exist In Australia Compared to America" In My Experience Thus Far

(Some of these you can find at specialty US food/import stores if you're lucky though!)

Saltine crackers

Graham crackers

Yellow/orange mac and cheese. It is white-ish here, comes in a smaller quantity but costs more, and does not taste the same. I tried making it like I would back home and my partner said "This slaps!" but I thought it was kinda dreadful :x

Twizzlers. Okay a lot of American candies are going to be missing but this is the one that hurts me most. Like, oh no they don't have Mike & Ikes- who the fuck cares.

Funky ice cream flavours in tubs. Australia does ice cream treats really well, you are pretty much guaranteed delicious results if it is individually wrapped. But anything outside of basic vanilla (which tastes VERY different from any American vanilla ice cream I've ever had in my life), chocolate, and neapolitan in a tub is gonna be goddamn scarce. I have managed to track down mint chocolate chip and cookies & cream but they were gross. Anything more complex- think moose tracks, chocolate cherry chip, brownie, rocky road, cookie dough, etc- you are shit out of luck my friend because if they do exist here they come in specialty brand pints exclusively and they are at least $12 a pop, kys

Jif peanut butter

Breakfast or "country" sausages. I actually had no idea that was exclusively an American thing until I moved here. No one knows what I'm talking about and I just gesture helplessly when they ask for details because I don't know what's in those either! I've never had to think about it before! But I better find out 'cause it's time to start making them myself. Send help.

(Good) Mexican food, just as a whole -_-;

Root beer. For some reason they have Ginger Beer but not Ginger Ale and I swear there is a difference but it probably doesn't matter

Ranch dressing?? I'm a good midwestern girl what is this fresh hell

Cheez-its, cheetos, cheez whiz, goldfish crackers- most salty cheese snacks. Your average grocery chain like Woolies or Coles isn't gonna have these and it's a little weird.

Fruit snacks. Presumably because they don't have enough fruit for Australia to legally call them that. I have found some at Costco but that's about it. Side note, the Kirkland chocolate chips bag says "Great for baking and snacking" so they've manually put a plain white sticker with black text over it that says "Great for baking and cooking" :')

Egg rolls. Actually most Chinese American food which. Okay that makes sense now that I think about it but orange chicken my beloved... crab rangoon... egg rolls... They do have "spring rolls" but they are kinda shit! Korean food is everywhere though and it is goddamn delicious. Oh and you can get mochi ice cream 10 for $10 at Coles. There's limited flavours obviously but they have strawberry and mango and that is all that matters tbqh (black sesame is a 0/10, truly awful)

Fritos/corn chips. Tortilla chips exist but are more expensive than you'd expect, and the "Hispanic" section of the grocery store is like. A shelf. Bitches don't even have crema smh

Velveeta

Cool whip

Not a food but Tums or even really generic antacid tablets- I cannot find them anywhere

If we're including not-foods all of a sudden: cardstock.

Candy corn

Lemonade. Australians will insist they have lemonade but it is fucking carbonated!! I'm like no no it's not supposed to be fizzy, it's not like a Sprite. "So it's just lemon and sugar water...?" Yes!!! God!!

Specifically this type of noodle:

Almond bark

Maraschino cherries

Trail mix

And your reactions will vary wildly between "Eh. That's fair." and "Oh dear god, please tell me the US import store takes requests."

[tongueofcat]

Millie’s Memories

Chapter Seven

Fandom: Monster of the Week (TTRPG)

Pairing: F/F

Tags: POV First Person, Cancer, Death, Grief/Mourning, Drunkenness, Crying, Children, Teenagers, High School, Undressing, Teasing, Suggestive Themes, Locker Room, Texting, Cell Phones, Flirting, Party, Teen Crush, Marijuana, Underage Drinking, Graffiti, Blood and Injury, First Aid, Kissing, Babysitting, and Makeup

Word Count: 2,252

Masterlist | Link to Ao3

Important Notes: N/A

Thorne Manor is absolutely crawling with teens. The massive home is covered in lush green ivy that’s slowly starting to shift into fall colors at the edges of their broad leaves. I’m standing there, looking out at the crowded front gardens when Jamie placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You okay?” She asks, leaning her face down slightly to help me hear her voice. I nod, turning to her, our eyes locking. Jamie is smiling casually at me. Her face is friendly and cool. I suppress a sigh.

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

“No.” I reply immediately; her eyes are almost black in the dim, like two round marbles. There’s a beauty mark right under her left eye. It’s pretty.

“Well,” she leans back, patting my shoulder before shifting on her feet, “You look cute.”

I blink rapidly, “What?”

She’s already walking forward, her fingers brushing my shoulder as her hand leaves to rest by her side; I can’t see her face when she says, “Come on, Millie.”

Her hand is extended behind her, directed at me. I cautiously take it and her fingers intertwine with mine, pulling me to her side. I look to her face and she’s looking ahead, her eyes focused on the side entry of the manor. We pass through a gaggle of teenagers and I catch the pungent smell of alcohol and weed in the air. I’m getting anxious now, my hand grips tighter onto Jamie’s and I’m surprised when she gives me a squeeze back. I’m suddenly only focused on the pressure of her hand in mine.

Then we were inside. The dilapidated kitchen is filled with chip bags, two liter soda bottles, and a massive cooler with beer. Candles are everywhere, casting a warm glow on the ceiling and walls. Smoke is heavy in the house and I feel myself choke a little on the scent. I cough and Jamie’s attention is on me again.

“You okay, Millie?” There’s my name again. I smile sheepishly at her and clear my throat to murmur, “Yeah.”

She squeezes my hand again and I begin etching that feeling into my brain. We move through the kitchen into the crowded entryway. Music is playing, I don’t know from where — there couldn’t be electricity running to this place — but I can’t focus on the mystery of the music because Jamie is pulling me to the stairs.

“Jamie?”

She glances back at me and gives me a smile. I smile back, at least for the moment as we begin to climb the stairs. They creak loudly, even with the music blaring, but I just focus on my hand in her’s, letting that feeling carry me to the top of the stairs.

The air is even heavier with smoke and the smell of paint. I crinkle my nose and bring my t-shirt up to cover my nose.

“Paint?” My voice is muffled, but she hears me. Jamie nods and continues forward and I can hear the sound of cans shaking rapidly and then spraying. “Spray paint.” I correct and she grins back at me. This time I squeeze her hand.

She squeezes back and leads me into an open room with people spraying with aerosol cans and a few pieces of old moldy furniture covered in plastic. There’s people sitting on the furniture talking, but my eyes catch on a couple making out in the corner. I swallow. Should I even be here?

“Wanna try?” I turn to meet her gaze and she’s offering me a spray can with a purple cap. I let go of my shirt, the bridge of my nose still scrunched up with the smell of smoke and paint as I take the can.

Hesitantly I let go of her hand to pop the top of the can. I stare at the wall, there’s already tons of graffiti on it… no harm in adding a little more, right? I anxiously press down on the nozzle and it lets out a sharp jet of paint. I jump, expecting to hear Jamie’s laughter, but instead she’s placing her hand on top of my hand, her index finger settling over mine.

“You’re pressing too hard… it’s like this.” Her voice is at my ear again as she presses gently on the nail of my index finger and the paint dispenses. She moves my hand drawing a simple purple star on the wall.

“I see… okay, let me try.” Her hand leaves mine and with measured pressure I push down on the nozzle and I draw a wobbly purple heart. I hear her chuckle behind me and I look back, free hand tucking a braid behind my ear.

“A heart, huh?” Jamie looks amused. I feel my face heat with embarrassment as she turns to get her own can of paint. Green cap. I wonder if she likes green as she pops the cap with her thumb coolly, letting it fall to the ground as she focuses on the wall beside my heart.

With practiced ease she smoothly draws a little alien. I giggle and she pauses, turning to me. It’s dim in this room because of a lack of candles, but I’m certain she’s pink in the cheeks.

“Jamie, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she smirks, “Why ya ask?”

“Your cheeks are flushed.” I explain and she stares at me before leaning in, face serious and rapidly getting closer to mine.

“Hey Millie?” I swear her voice is slightly higher than normal, anxious. She has craned her neck down at me and there’s about a foot of distance between us. But I’m not counting.

“Yeah?” I reply dumbly.

“Why do you think I invited you to this party?”

“I—“

“Jamie!!” A voice calls from the other side of the room. We both turn, Jamie leaning back and smiling coolly at the newcomer. It’s the girl from gym class she talks to often; I can already feel myself frowning.

“Hey Esther. What’s up?” Her fingers graze against mine and my shoulders stiffen. Esther doesn’t notice, though, she begins talking excitedly to Jamie. As she talks Jamie’s fingers lace with mine and I find my eyes gravitating to our hands.

“Well, nice talking to you, but Millie and I are gonna head outside. Need some air.” She smoothly ends the conversation with Esther and pulls my hand leading me out of the room and towards the stairs.

We’re walking down the stairs when there’s a crack and suddenly the wood gives; my right foot crashes through a stair, the splintered wood tearing at my foot and leg. I catch myself hard on the railing with my free hand, the wood there creaking with my weight. It’s a sharp pain, and I’m knee-deep in the stair.

“Fuck. Millie, are you okay? Are you stuck?” Jamie’s voice isn’t cool; it’s frantic. Her hands hover over my form as she moves to the stair below me to examine the damage and my injury.

The music stops and I feel eyes on me. I look out into the entryway and the partygoers are staring back at me, some craning their heads or even moving around people to get a closer look.

“Millie??”

I look up at her and she’s looking right at me. I swallow and then hiss in pain as I gingerly begin to lift my leg out of the hole I made.

Murmuring. People are talking about me, but Jamie pulls me back to her, her hand landing on my shoulder. I pull my leg up and out of the hole.

There’s a sizable gash that’s visible through the new rip in my jeans, but other than that I’m fine. I smile up at Jamie weakly, trying to reassure her but she’s busy looking at the lengthy cut, frowning.

“Can you stand?”

“Um, I think so?”

“Okay, come on.”

I follow Jamie, easing down the stairs, cautiously putting pressure on my right leg. The skin is tender and the wound stings, but it doesn’t hurt to walk on. We slowly make our way down the stairs and through the ocean of people. The whispers die down as someone turns the music back on and I notice two older teens going up the staircase, inspecting the damage.

Jamie keeps looking at me, concern knitted into her brow as she continues to pull me forward, out through the kitchen and finally outside. I can finally breathe again… Jamie looks around and finds an old bench leaned against the house. It’s covered in ivy. She begins ripping up the ivy, throwing the vines aside and gesturing for me to sit.

I sit down, watching her. She’s kneeling in front of me, gingerly moving away the slashed fabric of my jeans to inspect the cut.

I smile, “I’m okay, it’s just a cut.”

“We need to clean it, or it might get infected. Wait here.”

And suddenly I’m alone. I can feel the music vibrating through the ground from inside. I look up at the sky and start picking out constellations. Then, after about ten minutes I hear footsteps approaching. I squint and realize it’s Jamie and Harry. Harry is carrying a small case with him, which he sets down beside me on the bench before popping it open. It’s a first aid kit, and a big one, too.

“Damn,” Harry looks at the gash, “That looks bad.”

I open my mouth to try to explain it’s not as bad as it looks, but Jamie beats me, “Yeah, dipshit we know — now move aside.”

“Hey, my dad’s a nurse, I know basic first aid!” Harry protests but Jamie turns on him, snapping.

“I know how to clean a wound, I’m not an idiot.”

Jamie applies disinfectant to a large cotton ball and then turns to me, looking me in the eye.

“This is gonna sting like a bitch, ok?”

I nod, “Okay.”

Gingerly she presses the cotton ball onto the top of my wound, dabbing her way down the cut slowly and precisely. I clinch at the wood of the bench; it does sting, and her unhurried movements don’t help.

“There… that should do it.” Jamie throws the cotton ball aside and starts rifling through the first aid kit.

“I think we’re going to have to wrap it… I don’t think there’s big enough bandages.”

“Okay…” the stinging sensation is wearing off and now it’s just cold and wet.

“Which means either I rip your jeans or you take them off.”

I blanch and look at Harry, who’s also looking down at the long gash on my leg.

“Those jeans are probably a goner. I vote rip.”

“One vote for rip.” Jamie looks at me and I look down at my jeans. Ma just bought them… and it’s one of my only two pairs. This was going to be hard to explain.

I sigh; I’m not stripping in front of Harry, let alone outside.

“Rip them.”

Jamie nods and grasps the fabric of my jeans and pulls, the jeans start to fray slowly, but are not ripping in a satisfying manner. She frowns and then begins digging in the first aid kit, coming back with scissors.

“I thought you were stronger, Jamie.” Harry teases, but Jamie ignores him. She cuts my pant leg at the knee, tossing aside the jean scrap as she sets down the scissors.

“You okay, Millie?” She asks, grabbing the rolled bandages. I nod and she gives me a small smile. It’s not cool, but it is relieved. Jamie wraps my leg quietly as Harry wanders off, leaving us alone.

“Why did you invite me?” I ask, and Jamie paused in her wrapping to look up at me.

“‘Cause you’re cute.” She continues her task and I’m just staring at her, watching her wrap my leg. Finally she’s satisfied and secures the bandages, patting my knee gently.

“Okay. Time to get you home… where the fuck did Harry get off to?”

“I’m okay, we don’t have to leave…” I start to say but she’s looking at me again. My voice is lost in my throat.

She’s leaning in, getting closer; I feel my arms prickle with goosebumps. My breath hitches in my throat when I hear her voice in my ear.

“What do you want to do?”

I’m feeling some strange mixture of embarrassment and excitement as her breath plays against my ear. I clutch at the bench and close my eyes, trying to focus on the waves of thoughts that crash against my consciousness. I open my eyes.

“We could, um… we could… maybe… we could,” she eases back, looking in my eyes as I speak; my heart is thumping against my chest, “we could… kiss.”

She blinks and then smirks. I want to shrink down or become invisible, why in the world did I say that?

“Kay.”

“Wait, wh—“ I’m cut off by lips crashing into mine, reflexively I close my eyes and sigh. This wasn’t my first kiss, but the last time this happened I was like eight and unworried about finesse. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I pressed back, one hand unclenching the bench and finding hers. Our fingers laced together and she places a gentle hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

Footsteps in the grass. Jamie breaks the kiss, pulling back and easing her body away from mine, suddenly becoming extremely interested in the open first aid kit. I sit there, blinking down at my hand, still warm from hers.

[chizue-witchery]

⚜️. *. ⋆ Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

⚜️. *. ⋆ Rating: Mature

⚜️. *. ⋆ Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

⚜️. *. ⋆ Pairing/s: Dazai Osamu & Oda Sakunosuke

⚜️. *. ⋆ Character/s: Dazai Osamu, Oda Sakunosuke (mentioned), Mori Ougai (mentioned)

���️. *. ⋆ Summary: It had been weeks since Odasaku's death, yet Dazai couldn't sleep. His mind is plagued by Odasaku's final moments.

⚜️. *. ⋆ Word Count: 1,497

⚜️. *. ⋆ Tags/Warnings: Post-Dark Era, Past Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Impllied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Sleep Deprivation, Vomiting, Blood, Guilt, Emotional Hurt, Hut No Comfort, Whump, Angst

⚜️. *. ⋆ Prompts/Squares Filled: Sleep Deprivation, Broken Window, Bruises || @whumptober 2024 day 8 & 9

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

AO3

A/N: omg, i'm so sorry for the repost. i don't know why the original post got deleted, i must've accidentally deleted it and didn't realize.

Dazai can't sleep.

His mind is plagued by Odasaku's final moments.

He hadn't been able to sleep since he left the Port Mafia. It had been a week since then.

He hid in another city, staying in a rundown apartment until he knew what he wanted to do.

Here, he lies on his uncomfortable bed, staring at the leaking ceiling. A water droplet drips as it falls to the carpet with a soft thud.

Every blink he does feels heavier than the last one.

He wants to succumb to exhaustion and sleep and never wake up.

He wants to sleep and wake up to Odasaku leaving him a message.

He wants to go back in time to save Odasaku.

He wants to fulfill Odasaku's last wish.

He wants to die.

He wants, he wants, he wants—

He yawns, loudly and mouth wide open as he closes his eyes for a brief second.

He opens them once he finishes yawning, and he is so tired.

The week has blurred together; he doesn't remember what he did in the past week. It's hazy when he tries to remember.

Has he eaten anything in the past week?

He looks to the side and sees half-eaten cup noodles on the coffee table, some spilled with soup and noodles scattered on the table and floor. More plastic bags contain cup noodles and chips, and another plastic bag contains bottles of alcoholic drinks. Empty cans of beer are all over the floor.

Hm.

He ate something.

Although he never recalled leaving the apartment to buy them.

Speaking of the apartment, it is a mess. He sees piles of dirty clothes on top of each other, the clothes he wore on the day he held Odasaku in his arms. They're still stained with blood and they smells heavy and sickening.

It sickens his stomach, and he lurches as he moves to the edge of the bed to puke out the contents from his stomach. He heaves heavily, coughing away the remaining vomit stuck at the back of his throat. He wipes away the vomit on his lips with the thin blankets he uses to cover his body from the cold.

He stares at his vomit; noodles mixed with alcohol, along with other contents he doesn't recognize. It's disgusting. The liquid is spreading everywhere. It smells acidic. It stinks the entire room.

He wants to puke again.

He doesn't.

But the smell of acidic vomit mixed with beer and noodles, as well as the scent of the blood, makes him nauseous. His head starts to painfully throb, causing his swaying, a feeling he hadn't realized he was experiencing until now.

He shuts his eyes and opens them immediately, feeling the regret of closing them since his eyes hurt when he does. And yet, opening his eyes felt more painful.

He slowly, achingly, moves to the other side of the bed, as far as he can get away from the stench of vomit. His movement is sluggish, slower than normal. It takes everything in him to get his body to move in such a short distance.

He breathes heavily in exhaustion as though he ran a marathon, his body aching from moving them after not moving them for who knows how long. They cramp and he feels his muscles tense, and it's uncomfortable.

He stretches his legs, feeling his bone crack before curling his body. He stays in a fetal-like position until he loses count of how long he stayed in the same position. But he knows it's long enough for his body to ache.

He moves his head to look at the broken window, with blood splattered on the wall next to it. Under the window, the broken glass pieces are scattered on the floor. He would have guessed something happened the week before for the window to be broken, but then he noticed the blood on the wall was still recent—the blood not fully drying out. He tries to think of what happened, but the events of it are blank.

He doesn't remember it.

Perhaps he broke it while he was wasted.

How odd. He wonders why he broke it.

He thought of Odasaku's soft smile directed towards him, the way his eyes shone with so much hope for him and—

Oh.

Right.

That's why.

Thinking of Odasaku sends him to despair and grief. Because he knows Odasaku knew that he was going to die while taking down The Mimic organization.

Mori knew it. Odasaku knew it. He knew it.

It was why he tried to stop Odasaku in the first place, an attempt by allow himself to be vulnerable — and yet, it did not work.

Odasaku still went with it and died.

And it was all his fault.

If he had tried harder, maybe Odasaku would have agreed to not go on his suicide mission.

If he had been faster, maybe Odasaku would still be alive.

If, if, if—

Any what-ifs wouldn't have worked.

He already thought of all the what-ifs hours after Odasaku passed away in his arms.

He sighs, feeling his eyes droop, but he keeps them open. He refuses to allow himself to succumb to the slumber.

He sits up slowly; the fatigue weighing him down. He brushes away the hair on his face and they feel sticky and oily.

When has he last taken a shower?

He doesn't remember.

Maybe he should take a shower to wash away the grime on his body.

He doesn't move to leave the bed.

He didn't move at all after he sat up, other than a few yet slow blinks.

He thinks of lying back down on the bed, but he fears he might pass out once he does.

Slow and steady, he moves his legs to the edge of the bed, his body shivering when his feet touch the cold floor. He looks down as he wiggles his little toes, trying to feel something other than numbness. With a hard push, he gets himself off the bed and stands up.

He wobbles when his vision darkens and he immediately grabs the headboard of the bed so he doesn't fall. He waits for his vision to clear and for the dizzy spell to subside before he moves.

He walks to the bathroom, avoiding any trash or mess on the way. He closes the door behind him and he looks at the mirror.

He looks skinny, perhaps even malnourished. His dark hair is sticking out everywhere. Some of them are even tangled together. His face looks pale, his eye bags visible enough to look like they're bruises he got from a fight. His cheeks are sunken and his eyes are droopy and dull. His mouth is dry and his lips cracked because of thirst.

All in all, he looks worse compared to when he was at the Port Mafia.

That is not how he is supposed to look like.

He is supposed to change, just like Odasaku told him.

And yet, he looks worse.

He is recognizable, yet also not.

He knows it is him in the mirror, but it doesn't look like him.

It's a stranger who stares at him in the mirror.

He touches the mirror, and his reflection does the same thing. He pinches his cheek, and his reflection does the same. He takes a step back and his reflection does the same.

It's him.

But it's not him.

It's him without the bandages wrapped around his right eye. Odasaku removed them. He hasn't wrapped bandages around his eye ever since.

It's strange.

He's not used to it.

But it's new.

It's a new look.

It's… different.

A strange kind of difference.

He doesn't know what to call this emotion squeezing in his chest.

He doesn't know if it is a good thing or not to feel this way.

Not wanting to feel this emotion further, he turns away from the mirror and leaves the bathroom.

He sits down on the couch and grabs chips for him to eat. He bites the chips slowly, not wanting to upset his stomach further if he eats too quickly. He would've eaten cup noodles instead, but it takes too much effort and time. He doesn't want to do it.

He grabs a can of beer in the plastic bag and opens it before chugging it down. A sharp exhale escapes his lips once he finishes drinking the entire can. The headache is still there, but the burning sensation in his throat drowns it out.

He drinks another and another until he is lying down on the couch. The throbbing sensation in his head worsens while the darkness in the corner of his vision intensifies.

He slowly turns his head to the window and notices the sun slowly rising; another day has passed since Odasaku died.

He misses his friend dearly.

He wants him back.

But he can't get him back anymore.

Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, finally allowing his thoughts to shut down.

A/N: ... dazai is too easy to write angst/whump. i struggle trying not to use him for all whumptober days.

[larrydempsey]

“The Pink Rose”

Under a pink and purple sky, Ambersioux, queen of Spring, empress of rain, flowers, and the Southern Winds, walked across the uneven ground, dead leaves and brittle branches snapping and crunching beneath her every step.  As the sound of the wind whistled in her ears and dry dirt squished between the toes of her bare feet, Ambersioux gazed across the flat, barren wasteland before her.  Thousands of tree stumps stretched into the distance, as far as she could see.     “The human race has long been extinct,” she said, “but their legacy remains.  Such wasteful, destructive creatures, they were.”     With a large pink rose adorning the left side of her head, Ambersioux faced the wind, her long ebony hair and sheer white dress blowing behind and away from her.  She stopped next to one of the stumps and placed the palm of her hand on top of it.     “I am sorry this happened to you.  You will be remembered.”      Low clouds of hazy black smoke obscured the late afternoon sun.  The toxic fumes made Ambersioux’s nose sting and her eyes water.  Old newspapers and plastic grocery bags littered the landscape, some skipping across the ground, others half-buried under shards of splintered wood.  Ambersioux bent down and picked up one of the papers.  She skimmed through it, growing more angry with each page.     “Politics.  Celebrities.  Sports.  Humans considered these things important?  Were they more important than the lives of these beautiful trees?  This is madness.”     Ambersioux loosened her grip on the newspaper, and as the wind snatched it out of her hand, it disintegrated as it blew away.      “This planet was a gift.  How could they let this happen?” she asked, taking one last look across the desolate countryside.  “Seeing this doesn't make my decision any easier.”     Ambersioux tilted her head back, lowered her arms to her sides, and flew straight into the sky at blinding speed, disappearing through the clouds of smoke without a sound.

Ambersioux circled the globe and decided to visit the world’s tallest mountain range.  Rising and diving, soaring and zigzagging between the peaks, she looked down and spotted a cluster of old campsites on a rocky outcropping.  She landed on one of the ledges and saw the hillside covered in trash.  Candy bar wrappers.  Empty plastic water bottles.  Abandoned tents.  Makeshift toilets.  Empty beer cans were strewn everywhere; all of them were rusted and rotting.      “Nowhere was safe from their refuse, even here, at the highest point on the planet.”      Ambersioux walked to the edge of the outcropping and looked down into the valley below, trying—and failing—to see it through the thick cover of black smoke.     “All this beauty.  Taken for granted.  This is disgusting,” she said through gritted teeth.  “Disgraceful.”     Ambersioux dropped her chin to her chest, closed her eyes, and let out a long sigh.     “Should I give them another chance?  Do they deserve another chance?  I doubt that anything would change.  I don't know what to do.”

Hours later, Ambersioux visited another corner of the world.  She dropped thousands of feet below sea level and landed on the now-dry ocean floor.  Her mouth gaping, her eyes wide and unblinking, she stared at millions of acres worth of garbage.  Tin cans.  Styrofoam.  Broken bottles.  Broken furniture.  Stained mattresses.  Abandoned fishing gear.  Used tires.  Used diapers.  Clothes and shoes.  Cardboard boxes and cereal boxes.  Pop cans and beer cans.  Potato chip bags and padded envelopes.  Tissue paper.  Toilet paper.  Toilet paper rolls.  Paper towel rolls.  Empty cans of hairspray and shaving cream.  Mountains of cigarette butts.  More candy bar wrappers and empty plastic water bottles.  Plastic cups, plastic milk jugs, plastic laundry detergent jugs, plastic buckets, plastic straws, plastic silverware, plastic sandwich bags, plastic garbage bags, plastic ketchup bottles, plastic mouthwash bottles, plastic ice cream cartons, and plastic yogurt containers.     Ambersioux couldn’t hold back any longer.  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and screamed as loud and long as she could.  Her scream echoed across the valley.  She dropped to her knees and covered her face with her hands.     “No more!  No more!  No more!” she yelled as warm tears leaked through her closed fingers.  “No more…” she repeated, her voice trailing off into a whisper.

A week later, Ambersioux arrived at her final destination.  She lightly descended from the sky, landing in front of an eight-foot-tall cactus in the middle of a gray, featureless desert.  As the sun started to set on the horizon, the pink and purple sky turning blue and black, she stared up at the cactus, her eyes full of tears and her heart full of guilt.     “I should have intervened sooner.  I hope you can forgive me.”      Ambersioux reached out to the cactus.  As she did so, a tiny green star appeared in the center of the cactus, hovering just above its skin and emitting a faint, high-pitched ring.  The star glided toward her outstretched hand and landed in her palm.  She closed her fingers around the star, and it disappeared.     “You were the last one,” said Ambersioux as she gently placed the palm of her other hand on the cactus from where she extracted the star.  “Rest in peace, my friend.”     Ambersioux sat on the cracked and sun-bleached ground, several feet back from the cactus.  She sat with her legs crossed at the ankles and her knees bent outward, and then rested the backs of her hands on top of her knees.     “Every form of life on this planet is now extinct.  I have a decision to make.”     Ambersioux closed her eyes and mouth, slowly breathing inward through her nose and then outward through her pursed lips, over and over, relaxing more with each outward breath.

Early the next morning, Ambersioux opened her eyes and, for the next several minutes, sat quietly, staring up at the dead cactus.  She then leaned forward and dug up a handful of dirt from the ground in front of her.  She carefully pulled the pink rose out of her hair and planted the green stem in the ground.  She then replaced the soil around the stem, packing it down tightly.  Ambersioux smiled at the rose.  Next, she extended her arms toward the rose and cupped her hands together in the shape of a bowl.  The tiny green star reappeared inside her cupped hands, emitting its faint, high-pitched ring.  It glowed dimly at first but slowly grew brighter.  The star floated a few inches above her hands, glided over to the rose, and then descended toward it and merged with it.  The rose glowed bright pink for a few seconds, then the light faded away.     “Remember,” Ambersioux whispered.      For several minutes, there was nothing but silence.  No wind.  No movement of any kind.  But then suddenly, tiny brown roots and green leaves began to grow from the dirt that surrounded the rose—daintily at first, cautiously.  The roots continued to extend until they reached a few feet long, but then they began to slow their progression, slower and slower, until they stopped growing altogether.     “I know,” said Ambersioux.  “I’m unsure, as well.  But we have to try.  It would be a shame not to.”      The roots remained still.  Unmoving.  A soft breeze blew past Ambersioux.  A thin layer of gray sand drifted across the desert’s surface.     “Please…?”      After a lengthy pause, Ambersioux felt a slight, almost imperceptible tremor deep beneath the ground.  Then another.  A few seconds later, the roots and leaves started growing again.  Twisting and stretching, swirling and unfurling, the flora covered the entire desert floor that surrounded Ambersioux, then expanded outward, across the country, across the continent, and around the world.  The vigorous vegetation grew to gargantuan proportions, eliminating all traces of humans having ever existed.  It ground their bodies, their waste, and their garbage—their cars, houses, roads, bridges, buildings, factories, and monuments—to dust and buried them deep in the soil.  Grass, flowers, trees, and shrubs sprouted in their place and rapidly flourished.  Oak trees.  Pine trees.  Palm trees.  Spruce, cedar, birch, maple, and willow.  Red poppies, tulips, and carnations.  Orchids.  Bluebells.  Yellow sunflowers, marigolds, daisies, and daffodils.  Ferns, hedges, hibiscus, and hydrangea.     Ambersioux closed her eyes and raised her hands high into the air.  A huge smile stretched across her face as tears ran down her cheeks.  Her tears grew into steady streams that flowed down the front of her body, over her lap, and onto the ground.  The streams grew longer and stronger, first covering the entire desert floor that surrounded her, then outward across the country, across the continent, and around the world.  Ambersioux’s tears continued to flood out of her and into the rivers.  The rivers flowed into the seas.  The seas flowed into the oceans.  Clouds formed in the skies, covering the planet.  The clouds burst, and torrential rain filled new lakes.     With the world’s water supply replenished, Ambersioux stopped crying.  The clouds blew away, and the rain ceased.  The planet was a lush green paradise again.  The sky was blue, and the water was clear.     “It is done,” she said.

As the warm sun dried her pink and damp cheeks, Ambersioux opened her eyes.  She immediately needed to squint because the sun was so bright.  Her long ebony hair and sheer white dress were soaking wet and stuck to her body.  She looked around and was pleasantly surprised to discover that a sumptuous flower garden had grown around her.  Thousands of flowers of every size, color, and variety stretched into the distance, as far as she could see.  She took a deep breath, smelling the sweet, fragrant air.     An enormous pink rose bush was blooming in front of Ambersioux.  She looked up at the thriving cactus towering above her, smiled at it, and then leaned forward, carefully removing one of the roses.  She placed the rose behind her ear so that it could once again adorn the left side of her head.     “I’m giving them one more chance,”8she said.  “I hope they use it wisely.”

Copyright © 2024 Larry Dempsey.  All rights reserved.

Commentary for “The Pink Rose”

–This story was inspired by a photo posted by my friend Amber on Facebook.  In the same post, she also mentioned Spring.  I was further inspired by the fact that she frequently wears a large flower in her hair.  For those counting, this is my fourth “Amber” story.

–This is a sort of sequel to my story “The Empress” where she was the same or a similar character.  In that story, Ambersioux was the “queen of Winter.”  In this, she is the “queen of Spring.”  Is Ambersioux Mother Nature?  Is there only one Ambersioux who transforms for each season, or are there four Ambersioux, one for each season?  Yes.  No.  Maybe.

–Alternate titles: “The Empress 2,” “Spring Fairy,” “The Last One,” “Second Chance,” and “Last Chance.”

–Another story with me commenting on climate change.  Unfortunately, we don’t have a goddess with the power to restart the planet’s ecosystem in real life.  I wish we did, so this story wouldn't have to be fiction.

–I purposely avoided calling the planet “Earth” or referring to any specific landmarks by name.  My story could either take place on Earth or, just as easily, on another planet (or an alternate Earth, maybe?).  I leave it up to my readers to decide whether or not they want this story to take place on Earth.

–My story originally opened with a completely different scene.  It originally started with Ambersioux visiting the site of the last human on the planet right after they died—alone, in a car, in the middle of the desert—inspired by an early scene from the movie “Mad Max 2” (i.e., “The Road Warrior”).  But when I came up with the idea of her visiting the site of the last plant on the planet dying (the cactus), I liked that idea better, so I dumped the human dying scene.  The scene where Ambersioux sees the tree stumps was originally the second scene.

–The scene where Ambersioux sees the thousands of tree stumps was inspired by Keechelus Lake, which can be found about 50 miles southeast of Seattle, Washington.

–The scene on the ocean’s floor was inspired by a news article I read that mentioned that there’s an island of garbage in the Pacific Ocean twice the size of the state of Texas (called “The Great Pacific Garbage Patch”).  It consists primarily of cigarette butts, empty plastic water bottles, and abandoned fishing gear.

–The scene where the roots and leaves grew out of the rose and spread around the world was inspired by the “Genesis Device” video from the movie “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.”

–Ambersioux’s line “Remember” is also from “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.”  It came from a scene near the end of the movie when Spock transferred his soul/being/consciousness/whatever into Dr. McCoy for future use/safekeeping.

–Ambersioux might be optimistic that things will be better the second time around and that humans will treat the planet better, but I don’t.  I’m a realist.  Even if humans knew what happened the first time, I don’t think they would learn from their mistakes, and the planet would end up in the same place it did the first time: overrun with pollution and, eventually (and inevitably), uninhabitable due to climate change.

[rmoonstoner]

Kinktober 18+

2 - Thigh Riding - Chapter 1

Pairing: Layla x Male Reader

Warnings: Thigh riding, p in v sex, creampie, infidelity, cheating, drunk sex, questionable consent because under influence, ass play/fingering, hand job, reader knows about the disorder, all three alters are known but Steven is not mentioned at all

Notes: I have no idea why but I imagined the reader to be wearing lots of gold, like chains, rings, bracelets and a watch. He is wearing a tracksuit. Oh, and because of the gold, I have nicknamed the reader 'Goldie' even though the nickname won't appear in this. It is for part 2 of this fic, but the reader in part 2 will be 'Ivy'. Part 2 will have a cameo of the male reader, 'Goldie'.

***

The night had been a blur for you. You had been partying at a friend's house most of the day. It was one of your military pals, Marc Spector. It was his birthday, and the man had been spending most of his night outside with Frenchie, some really ugly guy named Wade, and a huge hulking mass of a man, Eddie.

They were playing beer pong without you, because you felt you were drunk enough. You didn't understand how they all could drink so much. Wade had brought an actual keg of beer, while Frenchie had brought a couple of forties of whiskey. Eddie had decided on tequila, saying it would be better later, when Marc's party animal attitude got more wild. You knew that the party animal would come out when the tequila began to flow, and that's when all the chaos would break loose.

Currently, Wade and Frenchie were trying to goad Marc into going across the street to the field so they could set off some fireworks. You decided to go into the house to grab a glass of water, just as three other guests came to join the guys outside. You didn't know who they were exactly, but you knew their names. Matt, Reese, and Jessica and the woman they affectionately called Ivy. Ivy wasn't even her name, but she had plant based abilities and was always hanging around Wade and Eddie, who were the ones to give her that nickname. You could never tell if she was dating them, or if they were just very open fuck buddies.

They all gave you brief hellos as they piled outside with a forty of whiskey and a few beers. You found it odd that Layla had stayed inside. Perhaps you might try to find some snacks to sober yourself up enough to take a cab home.

"Shit, fuck!" You heard Layla's voice coming from the pantry closet, followed by a few soft thuds.

You went over to find that she was crouched over a bunch of individually packaged bags of chips and a few cans of food. You immediately went to help her, going for a can of refried beans that had rolled out of the pantry near your feet.

"Hey. Having issues there, LaLa?" You let her know you were there with the use of her nickname and she looked up at you with a nervous smile.

"Hey! Silly me. I was trying to grab the box of chips, but then all of this fell down." She said while showing you the mess on the floor. One of the cans had fallen onto a bag of Flammin’ Hot Cheetos and it had exploded, sending bright red crumbs everywhere.

"Ya got some… Right there." You said as you reached out to remove a bright red chunk of Cheeto from her hair. You both shared a laugh, and then you crouched down to help her clean up the mess in the small space of the pantry.

Everything was cleaned, except for one can of corn. You both managed to reach out for it at the same time, with your hand covering hers. You felt a sharp zing as your skin made contact with Layla’s, which almost made you recoil…

But her other hand came up to cover it, and when you looked at her face, you saw that her eyes were filled with something you couldn't quite place. You felt your skin heat up as her hand trailed over your fingers very suggestively, moving over each of the gold rings on your hand.

Your brain stalled as she lifted your hand up and stuck your index finger into her mouth.

Then she fucking sucked on it.

A loud groan escaped your throat as her tongue slithered up and down the length of your finger. With each pass, she got closer and closer to the ring, until finally her lips were pressed up to the yellow metal, her tongue laving in the underside of your digit. You twitched and melted back against the wall of the pantry, eyes entranced as your heart rate went up and your breathing got heavier.

"F-fuck… LaLa…" You whimpered as she crawled into your lap, forcing you to sit all the way down. The way she sat, she was straddling one of your legs.

"Mmm…" Was all she was able to say. You felt your pants become far too tight all of a sudden.

"What… What if we get caught? Marc will fucking kill me…" You tried to rationalize yourself, perhaps reason with her, even though you wanted this so fucking badly. You couldn't do that to your friend, Marc. She slowly withdrew your finger with a raunchy sounding wet pop and leaned in as she ground against your thigh.

"Come on… I know you like me. You've wanted me for a long time…" She purred as her hands ran up your arms and to your chest. She tugged your shirt up and smoothed her palms over your stomach.

"But you're married…" You groaned, feeling her hands work their way up to your nipples and giving them a good pinch. You bucked and hissed as she leaned forward to kiss your Adam's apple.

"Please? I want you so badly. I regret marrying Marc. He's so… Not the man I thought I married." She purred into your ear as she rubbed her thigh against your aching erection. You arched your back and found your hands coming to rest on her hips.

You started thinking about the friction she was giving you, and how her wet tongue was lapping at your neck. It felt amazing, but your brain still had stupid questions to ask.

"It's not Marc that I'm afraid of…" You huffed out. Between her nibbling on your flesh, her hands on your chest, and her rocking into your thigh, you were losing the battle to be able to stop yourself.

"Don't worry about that. He's kept himself locked away from me, yet he comes out for you and his dumb ass friends-" Just as she mentioned Marc's 'dumb ass friends' you both heard fireworks going off outside from open windows, followed by loud shouting.

You could hear Marc's voice whooping and hooting out in excitement as Eddie and Frenchie matched his enthusiastic hollers. Wade was heard in the background yelling in Spanish about firing some at him, and Marc was gleefully agreeing to it. You could hear the others cheering them on.

"Hear what I mean?" She breathed and licked the shell of your ear. You swallowed hard, your hands twitching at her side.

"Y-yeah…"

"Those fucking idiots will be busy for at least an hour. I saw how many fireworks they brought." She said, her hands coming up to dive into your hair. She gave a good tug, and you melted even more for her.

"Fuuuck." You groaned heavily, your hands going to her ass and squeezing. You pushed her hips down against your thigh, which in turn forced hers to press into your groin.

It was at this point that you noticed she was wearing a skimpy dress, and your hands began to bunch up the fabric to her waist. You roughly palmed each of her soft cheeks in your hands, getting lost in how good she felt. Layla gripped and pulled on your hair, going to nip a bit harder at your throat. You shook, feeling the way she was picking up speed, grinding so hard against you, that you could feel how wet she was. She was soaking through her panties, and into your pants. The thought alone made you wonder how wet that pussy would feel if you buried your thick cock into it.

"Can I see your dick? Please?" She asked and you couldn't deny her.

"Shit, yeah…" You breathed back in a whisper. She giggled and went to undo your belt in desperation.

With a flick, click, and a tink, Layla had your belt undone, and was now undoing your button and fly. Your hands moved. One went between her ass cheeks, fingers slipping under her panties to brush against her puckered hole. She groaned and wriggled her hips, pushing her clit and sopping cunt against your leg harder. Her hands fished your already leaking cock from your pants, fingers quickly rubbing over your shaft in slow and rough strokes.

"Oh, God… La… La…" You were barely able to gasp her name as she ran a thumb over the tip of your cock, spreading around your precome. You were so hard and rigid for her, while the rest of your body felt like a puddle.

"Look at this big cock… Fuck, it's such a pretty cock. I want to sit on it." Layla cooed into your ear as your finger pressed against her tight ring. She moaned as you breached her rim, slipping your finger in right the knuckle with barely any resistance. You pumped it in and out a few times, then slid another finger inside of her while she rocked harder against you, her leg rubbing your balls deliciously.

"Fuck me… Yes…" You mumbled in reply, and she took that as a yes to her precious statement as she shifted on your lap.

"Keep those thick fingers in my ass while I sit on your cock." She huffed as she moved her panties to the side and sat down, her wet hole swallowing up your throbbing member. Your head hit the wall and a low growl erupted from your throat as she slid down all the way, until she was flush against your groin.

"Fuck, baby, it's so big." Layla whispered to you right before she kissed you hard and full of tongue while she started to rock against you quickly. Your brain shut off and your hips started to piston upwards, making loud and wet slapping noises as you fingered her ass in time with each thrust.

"Layla… Oh Gods… Fuck… You feel so fucking good… So tight…" You mumbled your praises between sloppy kisses. You could feel her pussy clench all around your cock, and it felt like heaven. The way her cunt was sucking you in made your eyes roll all the way back in your head.

"That's it, baby…" She groaned and leaned back while holding your face down to her breasts. You happily rubbed your face in them, leaving wet kisses all over as you pulled them free.

By now your thrusts were getting erratic with your quickly approaching orgasm. You had a mouthful of nipple, your lips sucking, and tongue lapping. You were still working her ass with much vigor as she bounced up and down on you, nails digging into the nape of your neck. You could feel your cock pulsing as she moaned loudly and came all over your dick. Her walls were choking you, making your balls tighten with each sway of her hips.

"LaLa… Gonna…. Gonna come if you keep that up-"

"Then come." Layla purred hotly as she cut you off and shoved your face back to her breast. You groaned again, feeling like you were going to come any second.

"Fuck… So close…" You grunted as you held her down tightly, feeling her begin to grind against you extra hard.

"Come in me… Please… I want to feel you fill me right up." She begged with a whine when she tugged on your hair. You grunted and squirmed underneath her, feeling your balls become tight and at the point of almost releasing. You shoved your fingers as deep as you could muster as you pushed your cock as deep as it could go.

"Fuck… I'm coming again!" She cried with a pleasure filled sob. Her clenching caused you to burst, and you pumped her full of your load with a long grunt.

She rode her orgasm out, then collapsed onto your chest. You made the executive decision to pull your fingers gently out of her. As you both breathed heavily and calmed down, you heard shouts and hollers from outside again. Layla lifted her head and placed a gentle kiss to your lips, then she got off of you. She left to go clean up, while you went to a different bathroom to do the same.

When you came out, Ivy was standing there looking blissfully fucked up. She sort of looked like she was drunk and cranked on ecstacy, plus she looked… Wet? Like someone had thrown a bunch of glue all over…

Oh dear God.

You mumbled a quick apology for taking so long, then you ducked down the hallway to go find something harder than a beer to chug down after your encounter with Layla. When you got to the kitchen, Marc was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes trained on you.

"Oh, hey, Marc-"

"Not Marc."

"Oh… Uh… Hi… Jake… Um…"

"You're lucky Layla is Marc's wife. She ain't mine. I don't fucking care what she does. It's not like they love each other anymore." Jake explained briefly as he stepped into the light. He was covered in soot from the fireworks, and he looked like he had just run a marathon. He was sweaty and tense, yet also relaxed if that made any sense.

"You're… You're not gonna tell him?"

"¡Mierda! Nope." He replied with a feral looking grin and an odd glint in his eyes. That's when you noticed the deep angry lines on his forearms, and a very prominent and fresh looking hickey on his neck. Just then, Ivy walked past him, and she squeezed his bicep once, then left out the back door. When you looked back up his face, he had a finger to his lips.

"Shhh. We're even."

***

Okay. There's that.

Proofread by: @howaboutcastiel Thank you! ❤️

Tags: @snippychicke @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @queenotaku23 @clairewinchester14 @promiscuoussatan @mona-has-friends @lazyotakujen @timeless-crow @crazylittlereader2474 @bibibeu @novagonz3elz7799

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Date Night

A commission for @nuclearnerves featuring freeguy117/freeguy. Thanks so much for the comm, I had a blast writing it. If you like this check out my pinned post!

-

The light glinting off the barrel of the .357 revolver caught John's eye as he saw Dr. Freeman -Gordon- and The Doom Slayer -Flynn- packing up and taking stock. A 9mm pistol tucked away here and another handgun there, weapons disappear into the dark depths of jackets and pockets and a duffel bag that even John would perhaps describe as conspicuous or maybe even overkill. There was a knife as long as his hand tucked away in Taggart's boot. Bulky nondescript clothing covered the guns stowed in hidden holsters and waistbands, the fabric barely stretching over Taggart's broad frame while Dr. Freeman, lanky as he is, was swimming in his thrifted gear.

Their apartment was small for a base of operations, especially for two super soldiers and a physicist, so patrols weren't out of the ordinary. But this seemed a bit much for the quiet night he had assumed they had planned, even by his standards.

Still, the crowbar was being left behind so he assumed it wasn't going to be that bad.

John had stopped asking if Dr. Freeman was going to take the crowbar everywhere when the scientist had leveled a flat glare at him over the morning coffee and responded in a sign that the Spartan knew all too well and had gotten thrown his way a few times in his long career.

"Where are you going?" John asks as he finishes up the dishes from dinner. It was his turn after all.

Dr. Freeman shoulders the duffel bag, unlocks the deadbolt and three extra locks, and silently walks out the front door without glancing back.

Taggart grins. It's a wicked thing with too many teeth that would unnerve a civilian, but John's come to recognize that his face just works that way. It doesn't help that the man has a hard time fitting through doorways.

"Date night." He laughs, and pats his favored shotgun before following the doctor out the door and into the night. Warm summer air washes in from the doorway alongside the trilling call of cicadas.

"Remember we're keeping a low profile!" John calls out towards the closed door and hears a resounding bark of laughter echoing off the concrete outside. He listens to them clomp down the steps and then start the truck in the parking lot.

The engine rumbles to life and revs once before they depart.

John dries his hands and touches the datachip next to his dog tags.

"Date night?"

"Maybe they're going somewhere nice. You used to take me to such nice places."

"Used to?"

A blue figure projects from the chip in his hand, her form covered in lines of code and geometric lines like tattoos. Cortana looks up at him with a hand on her hip and eyebrow raised.

John hums and looks her in the eye, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sure I can think of something."

-

The truck creaks to a stop, brakes squealing and engine sputtering as it idles on the ridge. Rust eats away at the bumper and wheel wells of the ancient vehicle, and the paint seems to flake off whenever they even look at the beast. Still, it was able to carry them to where they needed to go reliably, so none of them had questioned it too closely. Gift horses and all that. 

A key turns and the engine cuts off. Doors open and the call of cicadas becomes a roar without the refuge of the cabin buffering them from the warm July evening. Boots hit dirt and the truck raises a few inches as its occupants depart.   

This far out of town there's no light pollution and the stars are visible above them. It's a clear night even if it smells like a storm is coming. Both men can feel it in the air, a heavy thing on the horizon, charged and waiting. Unknown and powerful, it weighs on them both.

But for now there's a quiet moment in the bed of the old truck, a case of beer, the stars above them, and a shitload of guns in the duffel bag pillowed beneath their heads.

The field they're in gives them the advantage of 360 degrees of sight lines and Gordon is comforted by that fact. No one can approach them without being noticed, with the added bonus of escaping the cramped apartment for a few hours.

That, and the fact that the man next to him can rip out people's spines if need be.

It's warm, too warm for a jacket. It could be the summer heat, or the warmth of the body next to him, or something deep in his chest he won't bother to name or think about because this isn't the time. So he frowns and shucks off the jacket, mindful of the weapons hidden there, and pillows it behind his head.

They lay there for a while, taking in the view. Gordon nods as he listens to the other man regale him with tales of his own journey. It was something they had in common, both still living martyrs raised up on pedestals and crushed under the weight of responsibility.

Mars was bright tonight, a bright speck in the southeastern sky. The Slayer gestured to it briefly and then to the other more interesting celestial bodies. He didn’t seem too keen on recalling his time there, and from what he had told him, Gordon understood far too well. One thick finger traces out the constellation Scorpius and with his other hand he opens a can of beer with a practiced move and a soft hiss, before promptly cursing as it foams over and gets on his pants.

Gordon huffs a breath out his nose and catches his attention. It might as well have been a guffaw for all the noise Freeman actually makes.

"Something funny, Gordon?" His voice rumbles and they make eye contact for a moment, matching grins before realizing how close they are to each other. Gordon can make out the small scars he's never noticed before and his eyes dart from his eyes to his mouth and away as The Doom Slayer beats a hasty retreat himself and chugs his drink.

Gordon grabs his own and holds it up for a brief moment before opening it carefully and takes a drink without spilling a drop. He side-eyes Flynn with a smirk and receives an elbow in his side for his effort.

"Okay wiseguy, congrats you can open a beer. Really putting that PhD of yours to good use." The words are grumbled into the second beer he opens and starts nursing with his own poorly hidden smile.

Gordon returns the comment with his own elbow to the side of the super soldier, which feels like he's hitting a very warm wall.

"You're boney as hell, Gordy. We need to start feeding you more if you're going to try hand to hand combat."

Empty cans clatter around them as the two men who have killed dozens and survived world ending events, devolve into a childish slapping fight. Grunts and yelps and curses can be heard echoing over the field as the truck rocks from their combined movements.

Eventually they break, chests heaving and hands locked to stop the other from retaliation, faces flushed in the low light. They turn away from each other in tandem, glaring at the night sky as if it was responsible for the outburst.

Gordon points out another constellation with his free hand in the resulting silence and Flynn leans in to follow his finger to the Sagittarius constellation.

They sit there a while longer in companionable silence that goes unbroken.

Neither pointing out how well their hands fit together or how long they've spent watching the stars.

-

Like my writing? Check out my writing tag! I also have a ko-fi and I’m taking comms to help pay for car troubles!

[soulwillower]

housesitting •  richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: no

had this in my drafts and figured i’d finish it and post it, sorry for being away, but idk if i’ll keep writing! hope you enjoy, i’ll prob still come back and update/post fics on this account on occasion. love u guys lots and i hope you’re all doing okay <3333

warnings: drinking, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), light deepthroating/face fucking, praise kink, degradation, use of the words slut, whore, etc, suuuper unedited

(losers + reader are 21+.)

4.7k words

♡

the moment you stepped back into your flat, dropping your bag heavily on the ground with a sigh, you finally felt like you could breathe. 

today and yesterday had been a nightmare - you and your roommate bill had gone home, planning to stay for a week with family and friends back home. 

you'd spent the first night out with old friends at the bar enjoying yourselves and  you'd even gone home with a handsome boy you'd had a crush on in high school. but just as he was about to go down on you, after you'd gone down on him despite how terrible his b.o. was, he said he wouldn’t because it was 'gross.' 

you hate to admit but you were slightly tipsy and horny, so you still stayed for ten minutes of awful, boring missionary before he fell asleep. then when you'd left in the uber, a voice message from your boss threatened to fire you if you didn't come in and finish a project - so you had to scramble for a flight home, leaving bill back with your friends in maine for a few days, and now you're just ready for a shower, a nicely packed bowl, and a large dinner. 

because good god, that was an awful trip. 

"hello?" you call, rubbing your eyes as you walk towards your kitchen, wondering if your roommate's best friend was still here - he was supposed to stay and take care of the apartment while you were away. 

but instead, your eyes landed on a complete mess in the kitchen; solo cups everywhere, trash, empty chip bags, furniture moved and counters sticky from spilt beer. 

"what the fuck?" you project, eyes landing on the figure who walks into the kitchen, towel hanging low on his hips as water drips from wet, shaggy curls of hair. you meet the bright eyes of richie tozier, your roommate’s best friend. 

he looks like a deer in headlights, his glasses slightly fogged as he blinks his eyes owlishly and you swear his eye lashes tangle together as he blinks. "oh, hey y/n, why are you here?" 

and honestly, richie has always made your fingers tingle and your abdomen clench when he so much as looks at you, despite bill’s groaning and glaring when you refer to him as ‘hot friend number one.’ (he had a lot of hot friends). 

but you’re wound up, stressed, frustrated, and exhausted so all you can do is look from the boy to the mess and then back, stunned, "this is my apartment." 

he chuckles, wiping a drip of water off of his chest. you have to fight to look away, feeling burning from irritation and also something else as your chest heaves. you're just so tired, and this boy who you don't know very well has trashed your place and maybe even had a party and you just want to smoke and go to bed and- 

"say, what are you doing back so soon, toots? thought i had the place to myself for the next five days." he says too casually, grinning like he's catching up with an old friend. his hand runs through his wet hair, droplets rolling down his bare skin and causing you to fight the urge to keep your eyes on his face.

you shake your head. "richie, why does my kitchen look like a scene from dexter?" you say, trying to keep yourself calm. 

he tilts his head in an irksome, handsome way that makes you want to scream, "pretty sure dexter was....murdering murderers, not slamming smirnoff at three am."  "clean it up! what gives you the nerve to have a party in someone else's fucking apartment? while they're gone?!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air. richie shrugs uncomfortably and you're briefly in shock at how much faith richie is putting in the small tuck he's made with the towel, barely keeping up on in his waist. he laughs somewhat nervously, "sheesh, doll, it would've been cleaned by sunday, you just surprised me and almost gave me a heart attack while i was in the shower. bill told me we could throw at your place as long as we were responsible." he sounds pretty genuine, but you're just so tightly wound and frustrated.

"well this," you gesture to your place, "is not responsible." you glare, "i'm going to shower. i've had a long fucking day, and when i get out the place better be fucking spotless and you better be gone. i'm not asking." you snap. 

he grins as you push past him, turning to watch you storm towards the bathroom with an apologetic grimace on his face. 

- 

you took as long as you could in the shower, savoring every warm drop until you stepped out of your bathroom, expecting to see an empty apartment. 

"what are you staring at?" the boy with the curls mutters as he fixes the wine glass he'd placed on the counter. you're pretty speechless as you look around, wondering how richie had managed to get your place more clean and inviting than how you'd left it. dishes are all clean, put away, the counters spotless; the oven is set with a timer for two hours, and the smell of lasagna invites your nose with a rumble of your stomach. two glasses of wine are poured, sitting at the counter as richie chews on his lip anxiously, hair glinting in the dark mood lighting from the lamp near the window. 

"i felt bad. you seem like you had a long day and i didn't mean to make it worse." he admits. 

you step forward, suddenly feeling hot as you watch him, his jaw clenched slightly and sharper than you remember it. he's actually really fucking beautiful, you realize. 

"you didn't have to do all this." you say, biting your lip as you take the wine glass from his hand. 

"i know." he says with a cocky smirk. your face feels hot as you watch him slide out the stools by your breakfast bar, sitting down and sipping on his own wine. 

with a smile, you sit next to him. he was always the friend of bills that made you the most flustered - he's a tall, loud, garish bartender who spends most his time doing stand up at the clubs on the weekends even though he studied applied mathematics in school. he's the kind of boy that everybody has a crush on, because he's got that dorky yet beautiful sculpt; dark, curly locks, pale skin with a splattering of bright freckles. his eyes pierce yours whenever you're in the same room and his grin makes your stomach flip on it's head. 

"so, why'd you come back early?" richie asks as he takes a sip, eyes staring at you brightly from behind the rim of the glass. you huff a small bitter laugh, "my boss told me i had to come back because we're understaffed. told me the extra hours are 'building charater' or something. but i was having a shitty trip anyways, so i may as well just volunteer my time." 

he laughs, muttering, "good girl. doin' the lords work." you almost laugh but his words have heat sent straight between your legs and you can't tind words, suddenly in a state of shock. oh, god, this wine is getting to you.

richie's always been so hot, you're not surprised that one casual phrase had you so frantic like this. you blink, richie muttering, "y/n?" gently. 

you shake your head, snapping to look at him, "y-yeah? sorry, i just- what did you say?" you're embarrassed. you're embarrassed because richie didn't even mean it like that and you didn't expect to like being called that by him and you're embarrassed because he knows now, god look at his smirk, you're done for. 

"i asked why your trip was shit." he says simply, smirk on his face causing your face to heat up even more. you sigh, eyeing him, "i tried to enjoy myself and then i have the worst hookup experience of my life. then i came back to a messy apartment." you admit, shaking your head as richie pours you both another glass of wine, "the worst? that's a shame. what'd he do, throw up on you?" 

you laugh, "no, nothing like that. he was a minute man, and he refused to..." you shake your head, wondering why you're admitting this to a guy you barely know. you've never hung out one-on-one before with him.  "-he made me do all the work. and then he fell asleep. the worst part is, i've liked him since high school." you admit, dropping your face into your hands as richie lets out a chuckle. 

richie's shaking his head, "see, those types are the ones who just shouldn't be allowed in the gene pool. lazy. missin' out on all the fun, especially with a gal like you." he says with a wink. you laugh, face feeling hot. "i'm no fun." you say bashfully. 

richie raises his brows with a grin, his smile making you melt, heat pooling in between your legs from the way he runs his fingers across the rim of his glass. "i highly doubt that, doll." 

his eyes dip down in a not-so-subtle way as he takes in your body, biting his lip and making you clear your throat with a heated face. "sorry you had to put up with a guy who couldn't fuck you the right way. and that your boss also fucked you. and that i ruined your night." 

you shake your head, "i just had so much pent up stress from the last few days." he's eyeing you, and you wonder if he wants to fuck you as bad as you want to be fucked right now. would bill kill you? yeah, he would, but richie is so damn fine and you were left so high and dry last night that you’re just about ready to jump onto his lap. 

as if reading your mind, richie hums, "bill's still in maine, yeah?" he asks casually, eyes fluttering to the timer on the oven that ready an hour. 

you nod, "yeah, he's actually hanging out with the guy i hooked up with tonight." you say with a light huff. richie groans a laugh, "no fuckin' way. i promise, not all of bill's friends are bad at sex." richie says with a grin, and you laugh. "you sure about that?" 

he hums, eyeing you but not responding. 

“guess i’ll just have to find out.” you say boldly, butterflies fluttering in your chest when richie shoots you a deep look, slicking his lips through a smile. he hums, "so i don't get it, what was so bad about it?" 

you sigh, "he wouldn't go down on me. said he was 'too tired' and ‘too much work’ then he wanted to lay down so i rode him for, like, five minutes and then he fell asleep." 

richie's laughing, and you swat his arm as your face burns, "it's not funny! it's humiliating, richie." 

he snorts, standing up to place your empty glasses in the sink, recycling the empty bottle. "sorry, doll. that's just shit. he should've at least had the decency to make you cum." 

you almost choke on your spit at his bluntness, face blossoming and thighs tingling. "y-yeah." 

"anyways, i can get going, if you'd like. guess i’m done being the house sitter. the lasagna will be done in an hour or so." he says with a nod, eyes staring at yours fiercely. you hum, standing up as richie walks closer. "or you could stay." you say, looking up at him from where he stands in front of you. 

"you lonely or somethin', doll?" he rumbles lowly, lifting a brow. biting your lip, you swallow, "something like that." you say, lifting a challenging brow. 

“so if it was stan here, or mike...” he starts, walking towards you until he’s close enough that you’re afraid he can hear your heart thump, “you’d want them to stay?” 

you swallow dryly, “if bill lived with someone else, would you want to stay?” his smirk makes you clench your thighs. his long fingers raise and curl around your jaw, tilting your head back before tucking hair behind your ear. you swallow roughly, his hands are so big. his rings that he wears are thick and ice cold and feel so good against your warm face. 

your heart pounds as he smirks, eyes challenging you. the waiting is killing you.

"you've got a pretty mouth." he whispers, sending shocks all around your body. "y-you've got a pretty everything." you stutter out, feeling extremely flustered and suddenly shy. "thanks, honey." he says with a laugh, making you feel even more bashful.  

"y'know..." he drawls, hand settled on your neck, caressing your jaw, "i've wanted you since i first saw you." 

you can't help the whimper as it falls from your lips. it's a small, shy noise of need and it makes richie beam a beautiful, sexy grin that has your knees weak. "please..." you whimper, eyes staring at his, the suspense making you anxious with need. 

"please what?" he asks quietly, clearly loving the tense air. you almost roll your eyes, "kiss me." you say, rushed. 

he pulls away slightly, giving you a stern look. “please.” he says, smirk creeping onto his face. you burn in slight humiliation because he knows what he’s doing. 

“please kiss me, richie.” you finally say, swallowing.

"good girl." he says with a smirk and you feel like you're burning up under his gaze. but then he’s leaning in and his lips are on yours and wow, richie is a good kisser. he’s pulling you towards him tightly, hungrily; his teeth bite gently at your lower lip as his tongue swipes your own, pulling you into him. he was needy in the way he kissed you, a dominance in him that you're not surprised to find. you craved it, you craved him; and then he's pushing you back, up onto the stool as he moves between your legs. 

his mouth is then marking your neck, claiming you, and you love it, the feeling of his teeth against your warm skin, the sweetness of his smile against you.

his hands brush up your thighs and past the hem of your shorts, legs spread so he’s pressed flush against you, his bulge so close to where you want him. "richie," you let out a mangled whimper, hair knotting in his soft curls. he laughs, lips finding your ear, "always wondered how you'd sound when i had you like this," he says quietly, "can't wait to hear what pretty noises you make when i'm inside you." 

his fingers find the damp seat of your panties, dancing across it and making your legs shake with anticipation and neediness. you’re already a soaked, mewling mess as you grasp for him, hungry and needy and you want him closer, closer. 

he pulls you off the stool, then, and you both stare at each other for a moment. he almost dies at the state of you; already fucked-out, hair mussed up and still wet, your eyes lidded and your lips kiss-swollen. 

you can’t believe your eyes, richie’s curly hair fluffy from being freshly washed, the taste of wine on his lips, the freckles, the collarbone peeking from his collar, the smirk that could melt black ice. he looks like he could tear you apart. you hope he will. 

“you’re hot.” you blurt. 

he rushes at you again, melding your lips together with a searing hot kiss as he shoves you backwards towards the bedrooms. 

"bill told me to stay away from you," richie says as he walks you down the hall, your feet nearly stumbling and shaky as you walk backwards, lips seeking his every moment, "he said i'd ruin you." he adds. 

you lift a brow, too flustered to say anything as you stare up at richie, inhaling sharply as his hand trails down to cup your ass lightly, still walking backwards. "he knows how pretty i think you are. how hot, how... perfect." he whispers into the skin of your neck, raising goosebumps. "but i want to fuck you so well you forget your name. i don't care about what bill wants." 

you look at him, desperate and needy. "i don't give a fuck what bill says. i want you, please." you say, pawing richie and kissing him needily. richie’s leaving dark love bites on the column of your neck and you know it's wrong, and you shouldn't, but you let him kick open the door into bill's room, guiding you to bill’s bed instead of yours. “please, wan’ you so bad,” you pant, the needy throbbing getting unbearable, desperate for some release. 

“how bad, pretty girl?” he asks, smoothing down your hair. biting your lip, you sit on the bed, eyes level with the zipper of his pants. the sight of you staring up at him from below his hard, clothed cock makes his pants feel even tighter and he hums, "you sure?" 

you nod enthusiastically, "wanna make you feel good, please." he lets out a soft noise as your hands go to pull down his fly, “filthy girl." he says lowly, making heat drip from your core. you shift, trying to relieve some pressure. you feel hot when you realize you want him to degrade you, that you love it. “god, say that again.” you moan, mouthing around his bulge. his hands come to caress your face, watching you, 

"you like being my little whore, huh? so good just for me. bet you’ve thought of my cock in your mouth before, haven’t you?" 

you nod, biting your lip. he grins and you’re moving to pull him out of his pants, trying to conceal your shocked face as you take in his size. your cheeks heat up, hand grazing his length and meeting his own hand as he pumps himself a few times, lining his tip up to your lips. 

“open.” he says simply and you comply willingly, laying your tongue out. he’s teasing his cock on your tongue and you’re whining, desperate to feel him in your mouth, to make him feel good. 

“just wait until i say so, baby.” he says, slapping your tongue lightly with his cock and making you shift on your legs, dripping wet.

he groans, one hand coming to hold your head softly, making you tingle. you watch as he stares at you, lips parted and eyes blown wide. his cock is glistening with precum as it lays on your tongue. “suck my cock pretty girl.” he mutters, caressing your cheek. so you close your lips, slowly sucking on his tip before taking a bit more, moving your head slowly. 

you lick a stripe up the base of his cock and up to his tip, swirling your tongue. he groans in relief and pleasure as you take as much of him into your mouth as possible slowly, bobbing your head and taking as much in as you can. he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, and the need to feel him inside you and to make him fall apart has you taking him as deep as you can.

you take him deeper, your eyes clouding with tears as you try not to gag and he hums, hands pulling your hair from your eyes - you can tell he’s straining not to buck his hips as you bob up and down on him.

“god, you feel so good, y/n.” he groans. you pull back, sucking on his tip as you swirl your tongue, catching your breath. his hands fall to your head and he gently, slowly thrusts his hips slightly. you gag, mouth wet as he pulls out of your mouth and wipes the trails of spit from your lips. “do it again, please.” you gasp, and he grins. “such a  slut.” 

he guides your face back to him, “tap me three times if it’s too much.” you take him in again, holding as long as you can and loving the way he’s thrusting into your mouth. he groans, both hands on your head, his chest rising and falling shakily.

"god, that’s so perfect. my good little toy.” he rumbles and your chest flutters. you feel him twitch and you sense he may be close, so you start to bob your head again.

he stops you, "no, pretty girl. i'm going to cum inside of you, okay?" you swallow, mouth dry, "okay." please. 

he sinks to his knees, gently pushing you so you're laying down on the bed again, pulling your legs so they hang off the side of the mattress. he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear following as he spreads your legs wider, kissing your thighs. “look at that pretty pussy. soaked, all for me.”

you're breathing shakily as one finger rises to gently rub your slit, making you moan softly. his touch is feathery-light, teasing you and making you whine, moving your hips. "shhh." he says softly, bringing his tongue to lick up your slit. you moan out, relieved to have some sort of satisfaction. richie's hand moves up to push up your top, thumbing your nipples as he starts to suck your clit. he pins your hips down, "be a good slut and stay still for me." he says, burying his face as your toes start to curl in pleasure, the burning sensation of pleasure increasing. 

he rubs circles into your hips with one hand as he slides two fingers into your heat, making you whimper, his fingers start to pick up pace as he continues to circle your clit with his tongue. his long fingers curl up inside of you, still pushing into you fast and rough, hitting your g-spot. you moan, “richie, harder, please.”

he hums, lifting his head as you gasp for breath, "since you asked so nicely, doin' everything i say." his fingers are moving again, faster than before. his tongue runs over your clit, practically moaning into your heat, fingers moving faster. you moan unabashedly, feeling yourself clench and knowing you're about to cum. your legs wrap around his shoulders as your hips move slightly, 

“cum on my tongue like a good little slut, okay baby?” he says gently. you moan, eyes shutting as you see stars. you're hitting your high and then richie's watching you, praising you as you fall apart, letting out soft whimpers. 

then you're sitting up as he rises from his knees, licking his lips. pulling him into a searing kiss, he crawls on top of you, rutting into you a few times before pulling back. 

he's pulling himself out of his pants and you swallow around your words, resisting the shocked face that threatens to creep on to you when you see how big he is. you moan as you watch him pump himself, pulling off his shirt as you pull off your own. 

he grins as he looks at you, "so good for me, my little slut. you want me to fuck you now?" he asks and you eagerly pull yourself up to your elbows, "yes, please, rich, fuck me." 

he hums, pushing his cock against your slit, the tip rubbing your sensitive clit and making you moan sharply. he continues to tease you, one hand on his cock and the other holding your waist. "use me, please." you whisper in his ear, hand holding him to you from the back of his neck. 

he lets out a sharp breath, hand snaking to your neck and pushing you back onto the mattress. "you want me to use you?" he asks, thrusting against you slowly, teasing your slit. "like my little plaything?" 

"yes, god, richie, please-" but then he's sliding into you all at once, his large cock stretching you as he moves his hips, sheathing into you. you feel so full that all you can do is gasp, richie kissing your forehead as his hand rests on your throat. "gonna fuck you on bill's bed, okay? and you're gonna be good for me, right? my good little cockslut." 

you nod yes, "so good for you." you say, and he smiles. he starts to pull out, easing back in and starting a shallow rhythm, getting you used to his size. you're euphoric as he starts to languidly pump into you, one hand on your neck and the other on your chest, palming your tit. 

he starts thrusting into you, picking up speed - rough and fast. his hips buck up against you, pulling back fully before filling you up. his thumb gently grazes your sensitive clit and you grip his bare back, raking your nails down in pleasure. "do you walk around thinking of how it'd feel to get fucked by me, baby?" he whispers in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. you moan, "yes, r-rich, i've wanted you for s-so long," you trail off into a moan. "feels so good." you mutter, panting, words babbling from your mouth incoherently. 

you barely have a warning before you cum a second time, clenching so hard that richie's hips sstutter, his moan ringing with your own. he looks down at you, thumb trailing into your open mouth, you eagerly sucking on it like a lollipop. "god, you're so tight, doll. such a good little whore for me. i bet you'd let me do anything to you, anywhere." 

your legs are shaking as he keeps thrusting you through your orgasm, feeling sensitive and euphoric. he smirks, "yeah? bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, just my little fuck toy. so perfect for me." 

you nod, kissing him needily, tears from oversensitivity pricking your eyes. "want you filling me up richie, feels so good." 

"anywhere?" he asks, eyebrows knit in pleasure as he fucks into you. he's so possesive, it makes your face warm. you nod, "anywhere." 

he's smirking, and you know he's thinking about how shocked bill would be if he found out. it makes it that much hotter as you turn and see the picture of bill and richie on the wall near the door. 

then richie pulls out of you and you're being flipped onto your knees, richie's large hand pushing your face towards the soft sheets. you can't help the moans that escape you as he spits onto your dripping cunt, fingers playing with your used pussy as you moan, sensitive and still desperate. "pretty baby, all fucked out. can you take one more?" he asks, hands roaming your ass. you nod, yelping gently when a hand smacks down on your ass. 

"can you take one more?" he asks. "yes!" you moan into the mattress with need. he mutters, "good girl." as he pushes into you, the new angle making you moan loudly. with every thrust, he pushes you down on the mattress, making you grip against the edge of it with pleasure. one of his hands drops down to rub your clit, and you buck needily against his touch. after only a few minutes, the combination of the snap of his hips, the few slaps on your ass, and his hands on your clit push you over the edge, clenching around his cock as you whimper. your legs barely stay up after you cum, and his arm wraps around you to hold you as he pounds into you, chasing his own high. 

"yes, my pretty girl, so good." he praises again, hips speeding up. you think he's close because his breathing is faster, hands gripping your hips hard as he kisses down your spine, "take it." he whispers onto your back as he finally cums, pulling out and finishing on your ass and lower back, moaning lightly. 

you can't believe what just happened as richie disappears, returning at the speed of light with a damp washcloth to clean you off. you blush at how sweet the gesture is before he falls next to you on the bed, sighing. "i'll be honest, i didn't expect that." 

you laugh, "neither did i. i thought i was coming home to an empty apartment and some microwave ramen." 

he's staring at you, a smirk on his face, “i'd apologize again but holy fuck, you look so pretty when you cum.” you don't know what to say, feeling hot as you roll your eyes with a grin. he laughs and kisses you, “you’re cute, you know.” 

"says you." you mutter against his lips. you thank god bill won't be back soon as you watch his best friend rise, naked, from beside you and grab a spare hoodie and gym shorts from bill's closet, throwing them on before handing you his own shirt to wear.

"so, lasagna?" he asks, glasses askew slightly. you laugh as you stand on shaky legs, "it's the least you could do." you joke. 

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