#asks his friends for food nicely
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mer-se · 3 months ago
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lil hiatus away
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bludhavenbirder · 3 months ago
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we can stay up late, swapping manly stories, and in the morning... i'm making waffles!
@aculeonervus
"The waffles are tempting, but I think closing is a late enough night for me," Dick says over his shoulder as he unloads a bussing tray of dirty glasses into the dishwasher. He puts in the drip mats and closes the door, wiping his hands on a rag before returning to the bar. He rarely had the closing shift, but another bartender had called out sick and given how often Dick dropped off the face of the earth, it felt like a good way to garner good faith from the manager. The last customers had left and the doors were locked. It was just the two of them at this point into closing.
Dick had plans that night, as always— even if his patrol was shortened, he didn't want to abandon Gotham the whole night. He had leads to follow up on. There's a part of him that wants to leave it for tomorrow, but even thinking it only makes him feel worse. As he cleans, he goes over the coming days. Dick was needed in New York the next day through Monday, and then back to midday shifts and Gotham patrols until something else calls him away. There wasn't time to offer to his new friend.
Dick didn't get to spend much time with Adam outside of work, but he enjoyed the moments they had together. There was no pity over Jason, no expectations of helping carry a city on his shoulders. Dick could at least enjoy this. He begins to wipe down bottles, fitting the caps over them as he goes. Once he's finished with the first three, he tosses them into the air and begins to juggle. He would at least take his time with his own closing tasks while Adam is still working.
"I also don't know if I have any manly stories off the top of my head, so you start," Dick says. After another moment, he catches the bottles and sets them down, picking up a fourth to wipe down.
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girlivealwaysbean · 4 months ago
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sometimes my bestfriend is like an angel in disguise istg
#i was justttttt thinking that aw it's so sad that navratri music is playling everywhere and i don't have friends to go with#like last year atleast i had tuition sorta friends but now ive isolated them too it sucks#but i was like well it's okay ill do it when i grow up celebrate every festival i didn't get to in my house because we just never do#and then she calls and she's like let's go this club jahan every year famous hota hai full celebration#and i was like ehh i don't want to i don't even know how to play and ill have to convince dad for raat can't we just#go to a cafe or something dopahar mein uske liye i don't even need permission#and she even agreed but she sounded sad and disappointed about it so i was like well fuck it you want to go club na#and she was like yeahhh so i was like aagh okay and i asked and we're going tomorrow!!!!!#and it's so ridiculous like i just say i don't want to go but it's actually so exciting to go someplace other than a cafe!!!!#and i was complaining to her ki okay ill go but i won't dress up and five mins later me and mumma are making full outfit with dupatta#style decided jewellery she has saved for years that are specifically navratri types and she's like we'll get my blouse altered it's fine#you know being sick has really given me perspective on my parents#im not going to hate my mom anymore i never used to growing up i always thought she was brave but helpless#but a stupid day in 12th i realised when we were talking that technically she COULF get divorced she just#doesn't want to because she'll be alone and she thinks we're growing up and leaving anyway so why should she let go of financial#stability for us. which is wild to me because girl you can't buy anything you want without his permission so i don't understand what's the#point if he's rich or poor but whatever whatever she's been raised this way etc etc#but anyway being sick really made me realise who the real monster is😭 all dad did was shout horribly at me all the time#and was like don't you dare take meds they're fake this is all just junk food stop eating it and you'll be fine. when i was literally#having 103 FEVER.#and mom was the one who was making me different drinks juices cutting up fruits staying with me as i get my blood drawn#checking my fever sote jaagte#like wow i literally wouldn't have gotten better if it wasn't for her and i couldn't believe how attentive and nice she was being#like yes i understand she just thinks this is her duty she's just playing her role a mother a housewife but still#idk i just realized that okay atleast she's good at being a mother dad isn't even that why am i feeling good about him when his love#not even love his politeness is so fucking conditional#and mom healed me even tho i told her about clubbing and drinking lots of alcohol she's kinda against it because she's seen#horrible things in life family yucky men but still she understands ans trusts my sister mostly and know we just do it for fun and she#wasn't even mad!!!!!!! like wow ooay#moms love is actually not conditional for the first time in my life i felt like if i fall maybe she could be there to catch me and dad wld
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badolmen · 8 months ago
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*shaking myself by the shoulders* just say no just say no just say NO JUST SAY NO JUSTSAYNONONO
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br1ghtestlight · 2 years ago
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rudy being invited to the belcher family thanksgiving bcuz louise is his best friend and his parents were being all weird about divorce and forcing him to eat two dinners is actually very cute and they invited mickey too bcuz he didnt have anywhere else to go?? and also another year bob invited teddy and mort to thanksgiving bcuz he loves cooking and he knows they dont have a lot of family they're such nice people tbh!!! honestly i think bob just loves cooking and bragging about his food to ppl but i fully believe he would invite homeless people or queer people disowned by their families or wonder wharf carnies to dinner without a second thought <3 thanksgiving episode where he ends up inviting like 100 different people and their house is totally overcrowded. linda is like bobby i love you and i know you enjoy cooking for people but come on
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stiltonbasket · 1 year ago
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xiao-yu is preparing a "banquet" out of stuff from the baoshi's yard for the 3-year-olds? mud soup. grass salad. there's half a carrot and a dumpling from lunch. lwj is picking up his son from daycare and has to decide if he's going to "eat" this food.
Xiao-Yu is a picky little jiaozi, so he refuses to have pretend banquets without food he can actually eat. The baoshi nurses wish he would make "dinners" out of grass and mud, but instead, he's making little salads out of blackberries and dandelion greens, scurrying up trees to pick pine nuts, and smuggling ingredients from the Jingshi to make soup in a (stolen) pot with a heating talisman stuck to it.
Lan Wangji is rightfully impressed, but also a little tired of eating pine nuts. XD
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girlblocker · 2 years ago
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i hate that ive left my dorm twice today (once to go to student health and once to get food) looking like shit both times and ran into a total of 4 people I know pretty well
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phagodyke · 2 months ago
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one of my friends cancelled plans today bc he accidentally doubled booked which is fine like I shouldve remembered he might be busy anyway so I suggested me n the other remaining friend do smth else but he just cancelled too and bc I've been in so much pain this week I've missed out on my usual thurs gym social and also hanging out w two other friends yesterday bc I was too sick to travel and had to get off the train and my roomie won't even look at me bc her social battery is low which is okay im used to that and I probably won't physically be able to go to the gym tomorrow either but man I'm so fucking lonely and still in pain I can't do this.
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chastiefoul · 6 months ago
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“my wife” ft. nanami kento
in which the married man nanami kento cannot stop using every single excuse to call you his wife. he just can’t help it, it sounds really nice.
at the bakery, instead of looking for it he went to the counter to ask, “excuse me, do you have whole wheat bread? my wife prefers that over the plain one.” was there a reason for him to mention you? nope. is he going to to it again? absolutely.
he now brings home cooked lunch to work. the man who usually dreads the small talk from his coworkers now becomes quite eager when they notice the bento and asked him about it. “my lunch looks great? thank you. my wife cooked this for me.”
or when it’s after hours and there’s random talk amongst the workers such as places to visit on vacation. “these are really good recommendations, i’ll have to visit them with my wife if i have the chance.”
when he’s on grocery shop duty after work when you asked him to buy something from the market. kento tasted the one of the sample food and perked up, for two reasons. reason one is that he finds something you’d like, second reason, “where can i find more of this? my wife would love this.”
when a random stranger flirts with him and he didn’t miss a beat to say, “ah, you find me charming? thank you, my wife would agree.”
his phone would ring while he’s occupied in a work discussion and he had the slightest smile on his face as he stood up, “excuse me, my wife is calling.”
the way he always tried to insert you in every conversation even if the topic barely correlates to you. “i seriously almost drowned that day, the beach can be really dangerous,” one of his coworker said, finishing a story. and who would be able to know why kento felt the need to say, “my wife quite likes the beach.”
even in front of mutual friends such as gojo, as he knew the both of you back from high school days. “let me ask my wife first if she wants to come.” oh now it’s gojo’s turn to roll his eyes after so many years he has tormented the blond man with his antics. “you know that i know ‘your wife’ right? that she’s my friend too?” nanami looked at him, “what’s your point?” he deadpanned.
on the most random time of the day, his mind wandered to you as always. “i miss my wife.”
-
guys i think he has a wife
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exopelagic · 6 months ago
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talking to him more very much achieved. we just talked for like 4 hours in the kitchen holy shit I need to sleep
#I went into the kitchen to wash up wanting it to be a few minutes to get back to my parents by he came home at the same time#unsure what just happened honestly! as in I’m not sure what is going on from his end of the interaction#because I have never met anyone who would just do that before. like four hours straight when before we’d talked for periods of idk 10minutes#and he WAS engaged the whole time#granted he spent a significant amount of time talking. he talked far more than I did which is often the case but Im not sure how I felt here#I think he gets excited abt individual topics and. gets carried away is the wrong word but he gets absorbed in it#he spent a while talking me through the very complex maths he’s been doing recently#(he studies maths. also abt to start masters.) and was assuming a much stronger mathematical background than I have but I understood a bunch#he IS very good at explaining things and I was interested to a point but unfortunately I was not going to ask about individual theorems and#shit like that at 11pm. it was still super interesting I’m not downplaying that but I didn’t know half of what he brought up#there was basically no way I was going to understand much more than the vague concept anyway#anyway! also extremely into food. especially into traditional chinese cooking which is cool as fuck and I now know so much more abt food#I have never personally cared much at all about food. I enjoy when taste good and I enjoy cooking. he’s into the precision cooking#that he told me apparently Chinese and French food is the best in the world at. meant to be amazing at going for specific effects#oh he came back from a musical! apparently abt a woman with bipolar that was on in London I might check what that was. next to normal#cried 7 times. apparently he’s super into stories with that kinda emotional payoff. started telling me later abt tokyo animation#priest if you’re already seeing this I WILL be asking you abt it later but pls tell me whatever. he likes clannad and sound euphorium#bunch of others but those are the ones he talked most abt and started tearing up when he played me a song from clannad where the baby’s born#so I think biggest things I’ve learned are that he’s impressively in touch w his emotions (further damaging the straight guy case)#regardless it’s just nice to talk to a guy who talks abt stuff so openly it’s very refreshing#unsure how cultural differences factor in here. I would’ve expected it to go the other way but possible this is a degree more normal#and he’s very very academically minded. he learned Japanese bc was bored after high school and is doing a WHOLE lot of extra maths for fun#socially definitely very competent he’s very good at talking but a little more focused inward.#definitely did not notice the (admittedly extremely gentle) flirting throughout like when I complimented his bracelet#(this cute gold year of the rat thing his mum got him)#so yeah. was very fun talking to him. will process this for a while#I think this has definitely established that we could be friends if either of us pursue that after summer which is very cool!! will see#luke.txt
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luveline · 3 months ago
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬
Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him. 5k
c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here  
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
“Honey, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.”
You step into Aaron’s side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. “How do you do?” he asks. 
“Quite well, thank you.” You’ve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaron’s friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background you’d needed to see yourself into the culture. “It’s nice to meet one of Aaron’s school friends.” 
“While you still can,” Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out. 
“Clint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.”
You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time you’re reminded of Aaron’s young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isn’t one you could envision on stage. “Did you perform together?” you ask. 
“Saturday Night Fever,” Clint says. 
They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasn’t mentioned knowing that you don’t like coming, But perhaps he hasn’t noticed —it’s not like you to frown, not when you’re with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks you’re the happiest girl in the world. 
There’s a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the ‘King of the River’ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek.
Clint asks, “Isn’t that right?” and forces you back into the conversation. 
You’re wearing a dress you panicked over for days. It’s black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl —a black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. I’m in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person. 
Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesn’t manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and he’s good at making calls when he’s away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and that’s all you care about. 
“Excuse us,” Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, “I’m being flagged by my boss.” 
Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.
“Nice to meet you,” you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him. 
“He was nice,” you murmur. 
“Yeah, he’s okay.”
“How come you fell out of touch?” 
“Oh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.” He kisses your cheek. “And besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why don’t you go find JJ?” 
“You’ll be alright?” 
“No, maybe not.” He squeezes your elbow quickly. “Go, find some hors d’oeuvres, at least.”
You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala you’re attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light that’s clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands. 
You hadn’t worn gloves. Hadn’t thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you weren’t wearing one you’re sure you’d feel bare. 
What you’re lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so you’d like to believe. You aren’t rich nor powerful, but Aaron’s a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought. 
The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you aren’t sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you haven’t seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derek’s figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJ’s practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You can’t even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.
Disaster. You should’ve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, you’ll limp back to the car and he won’t bother saying I told you so, he’s too good for it, which is worse. He’ll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage. 
Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little. 
“Darling.” 
You look up. Clint McMoore’s resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clint’s hand. 
“You’ll never guess who I just bumped into,” he says. 
Me, you think. 
“Aaron Hotchner and his new wife.” 
“You didn’t,” the woman says. 
“I knew you’d be envious of that,” he laughs. “Charlotte, she’s unbelievable.” 
Your stomach does a strange flip. He’ll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense. 
“I’ve never seen such a mismatched pair,” he says. 
Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. “Well, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldn’t so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.” 
“Hardy-har.” 
“What’s wrong with her, then?” Charlotte asks. 
“Nothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasant–”
“But?” 
“But, she’s nothing like Aaron’s usual woman.” 
“Hm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.“ They both laugh. “It’s not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, she’s in Milan now–”
“He seems rather besotted, in any case,” Clint says. “Very lady and the tramp.” 
“Gentleman and the tramp.” 
“Don’t be cruel, Charlotte.” 
You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is they’re implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape. 
You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth. 
You blink and stare at the floor. It’s marble. It’s shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water. 
What the fuck? 
You aren’t sure why you’re leaving the hall until you’re walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down. 
Your head races with hurt feelings. 
You’re not unaware of your husband’s past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly —Haley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasn’t been mentioned before, but it’s impressive. They’re both impressive, and– and his usual woman. 
You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees. 
What had they meant by usual woman?
Mismatched? 
It hadn’t felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasn’t six months after knowing one another as Clint’s wife suggested, but it wasn’t much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting —it still is. 
“Would you marry me, if I asked you to?” he’d said, some seven months after you’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadn’t realised that when you murmured, “Yeah, handsome. I would.” 
You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. It’s terrifying to tell someone that you’d like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if you’re lucky. 
He asked you to get married a few weeks later. “I had to talk to Jack,” he explained, “or I would’ve asked you then and there.“
You’re a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron would’ve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. You’ve always felt like you fit right in. 
Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how you’re going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and you’re not perfectly pleasant, you’re a delight, you hadn’t said one bad word to Clint and you didn’t deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal. 
Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing. 
Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse. 
She was unbelievable. 
“Y/N!” The shout is sharp. You’ve never heard Aaron’s voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. “Honey,” he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, “are you alright?” 
“What?” 
“You scared me,” he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. “Nobody’s seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You can’t just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.” 
You startle at his scolding. “I–”
“You should feel my heart.” 
“I didn’t mean to come out here.” 
“I wish you would’ve let somebody know,” he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. “What?” he asks. 
“Sorry.” 
His eyes finally soften. “No, I’m sorry. It’s alright, I just worry when you’re not with me.” 
“That’s romantic.” 
He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. “We’ll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isn’t happening.” He smiles. “Why were you out here?” 
“Scavenging for food.” 
That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. “You tried your best.” 
Aaron takes you home, and when dinner’s been cleared away, when you’ve showered and he’s undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?
You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while you’re only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says “Beautiful,” against your thigh, says, “Honey, is that okay?” says, “Please, I’ve got it, I have you, just let me have you…” 
After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones. 
“I love you, too,” you say. 
His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess he’d wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek. 
“Are you alright?” he asks softly. “You feel tense.”
“Mm.” 
“No, did I hurt you? You’re rigid.” His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. “You didn’t…” 
You hadn’t said anything, because he really hadn’t hurt you. But the thoughts you’re having now are intrusive —am I okay? you think. Do I measure up? He’s never made any indication that you’ve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but you’re unbelievable. 
You swallow a lump. “Sorry,” you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it. 
“Are you crying?” he asks under his breath. 
You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands. 
“These aren’t good tears,” he says. 
He’d know. They’re not. 
Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. It’s too much suddenly, too bare, he’s too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Sorry,” you squeeze out. 
“What did I do?” he asks, holding you carefully. “Please, sweetheart, what’s hurting? I’m so sorry.” 
“It’s not you.” 
“But something does hurt?” 
“No, no, I’m okay.” You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaron’s hand wobbling where it cups your ribs. 
“Please.” His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. “Honey, please, you can’t cry now without telling me what’s wrong.” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “Honey. Honey.” 
It wasn’t the sex. He never does anything wrong, he’s so gentle even when he isn’t, and if he did you’d only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way he’d been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved —you’re not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like you’re everything and you’re just not. 
He looks sick. 
“It wasn’t you, it was at the gala,” you manage. 
For a long while after, you can’t get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. He’s reassuring. 
“What happened at the gala?” he asks quietly. 
“It’s so stupid.” 
“No, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?” 
You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesn’t waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. “Let me get you something to wear.” 
You catch his wrist. “It wasn’t you, wasn’t–” You lift your chin. 
He kisses you. “Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s get dressed.” 
He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. You’re sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs. 
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry if I read things wrong. I never would’ve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.” 
You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. “It made me feel better,” you admit.
“If this is better, you must’ve been feeling awful.” 
You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh. 
“In the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didn’t see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 
“You’re trying to bargain with me,” you mumble. 
“I’m just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.” 
“It’s nothing… nothing so severe. You’ll wonder why I–” You give an unexpected sob. “Made all this fuss.” 
“I don’t think I’ll wonder,” he says. 
You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying. 
“Please tell me.” He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. “Or I’ll cry too.” 
“Aaron.” 
“I will. You think I can’t, but seeing you crying like this, it’s more than enough ammunition.” 
You let out a breath, admitting defeat. “Your friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didn’t have very nice things to say about me.” 
“What could he possibly have to say?” Aaron asks with a frown. 
You pull the sheets up your legs. “He said I’m… unbelievable, and I don’t think he meant it kindly. Said that I’m not your type, and that I�� I had no chance of measuring up, because of who you’ve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.” Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. “They said we were the gentleman and the tramp.” 
His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. “What a crock of shit.” 
“Aaron!” you laugh. 
“What could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that you’re any sort of calibre below the women I’ve dated before isn’t just misogynistic nonsense, it’s not true. You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and what’s that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?” He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you can’t for a second doubt what it is he’s saying. “I’m sorry, honey, I think he’s allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps he’s suffered a stroke.” 
“Aaron, don’t say that,” you chide, secretly very pleased. 
“Our wedding photos,” he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, “are beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint would’ve writhed in jealousy in the pews if he’d been invited, because he would’ve seen it for himself.” 
“I just sat there while they laughed at me,” you mumble.
“What were you supposed to do?” His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips. 
“I don’t know.” 
“Nothing,” he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. “You weren’t supposed to do or say anything.” Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was like that. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” 
“I guess I’m just worried he’s right.” 
“He’s not right. You are everything to me.” Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. “I’m lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if there’s a question of you measuring up, there’s no competition. I’ve never been this in love.” 
You take a shaky breath. “Never?” you ask. 
He holds your gaze. “I knew it when we met. That's why I couldn’t wait to ask you to marry me.” 
“You said you weren’t getting any younger.” 
“Well, I’m not, but not everything’s about my age, you know,” he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze. 
”You said it.” 
“I did. That felt easier to say than, if I don’t marry you soon I might implode,” —he shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheek— “would’ve just,” —he kisses your cheek, before turning your head— “wasted all that time waiting for someone else’s idea of the right time,” —and he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your face— “wishing I was your husband when I could just,” —he smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare back— “ask.” 
“I’m glad you asked me.” 
You’d cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly he’d taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. He’s doing it right now. 
“I love you,” you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders. 
He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress. 
“I love you. Are you sure it wasn’t me that upset you? I have to check.” 
“No. What you did to me wasn’t particularly upsetting.” 
He laughs. “Are you sure? You can look a little teary–”
You shush him quickly.
He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. “Maybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.” 
“And you can make me feel even better.”
His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear. 
Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. You’ve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but you’ve tied them at the waist and you make do. You’re wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast. 
The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one he’d quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. He’ll make you a compress after breakfast. 
Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. You’re sharing a plate. You don’t ever mind. 
“Are you eating that one?” you ask. 
Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. “Was the gala fun?” 
“Uh, sure. Saw your dad’s friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.”
“You could’ve made dad cook.” 
“I guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?” 
“Jess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.” Jack squints at you. “Your eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?” 
“I think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, don’t worry.” 
Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. “Here, you two.” 
“Did you eat?” you ask. 
He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. “Yes.” 
“How come they didn’t have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,” Jack says. 
He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jack’s sense of humour. 
“It was a disaster, that’s all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.” 
“I thought Miss Jareau went?” 
“She did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.” 
“And you didn’t have fun?” Jack asks. 
You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jack’s shoulder, surprised when his son doesn’t duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so it’s nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. “Jack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,” you say.  
“Hey,” Aaron says. 
You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw. 
“It was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,” Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe. 
Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, “Do you have any pictures?” 
“I didn’t take any, sorry.” 
“Just think of her now but in a dress, and that’s how beautiful she looked,” Aaron says. 
“Dad, don’t be gross,” Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.
“It’s not gross, it’s just a fact.” Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. “Missed your mouth, bud. I’ll get a rag.” 
He’s up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he can’t. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text. 
Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegal 
Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding? 
Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMoore’s computer freezes the desktop would’ve been very very funny, I didn’t do that 
Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities aren’t his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet he’s disappointed nonetheless. 
Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquette 
Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right? 
Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldn’t work out the dimensions online. 
Penelope: You’re welcome! I live to serve :D 
The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where he’d been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake. 
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!❤️
also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didn’t mention her for brevity’s sake
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jinjeriffic · 7 months ago
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What if Danny Fenton and Billy Batson become fast friends. Danny is annoyed at cultists trying to send "brides" to the Ghost King. Billy is weirded out when adults try to flirt with Captain Marvel. Danny hits upon the idea that they should be each other's beards. If the Ghost King and the Champion of Magic are very publicly dating, that should keep unwanted suitors off their backs, right?
Of course they are both absolute Chaos Gremlins about it.
Cultist: We offer you this sacrifice, oh great king!
Danny: One moment please *whips out fenton phone* Hey honey, guess what? Some idiots are trying to tempt me away from you again. You got my coordinates?
Billy: *Kool Aid man entrance* Who dares?!
Cultists: Run awaaaaay!
***********
Captain Marvel takes a hit while fighting a villain. Phantom out of nowhere with a steel chair!
Danny: Nobody hurts my schnookums!
Everyone: ???
************
Captain Marvel brings Phantom to the next JL potluck as his plus one, with Danny in full creepy ghost mode.
Billy: Oh yes, we've been on again, off again for the last thousand years or so. We have our differences, but nobody gets me quite like he does! *exaggarated dreamy sigh*
Hal: That's nice...
Meanwhile Danny is shoving an entire burger in his mouth, displaying multiple rows of sharp teeth.
Danny: Man, I love the 21st century! Food sure has changed a lot since I died. And the technology!
Ollie: Oh? When did you die?
Danny: *glares* It's incredibly rude to ask a ghost about their death
Nearby Leaguers are edging away, nervous about being on the menu next.
Flash: Hotdogs! Who wants hotdogs?!
Danny: Oh, me! As long as they don't fight back
Everyone: wtf is going on here
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holmsister · 6 months ago
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Laios works part-time at a grocery store and is a mildly successful twitch streamer and one time this really fucking hot shirtless dude wanders into frame and everyone on Laios' chat starts freaking out like WHO THE FUCK IS THAT- HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A MAN SO BEAUTIFUL YOU STARTED CRYING- LAIOS THERES A HOT DUDE THERE- and Laios is like ahahah that's my friend Kabru! He sometimes comes over after the gym to take a shower while I make him dinner! He loves my food! And everyone in chat is like LAIOS ARE YOU STUPID- LAIOS FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK- LAIOS HES AFTER ANOTHER KIND OF MEAT- and Laios is a little bit offended like. No! He's just nice! Don't be mean you'll make him uncomfortable!
And then someone recognizes Kabru like "OH SHIT I SAW HIS FOUR PARTER ON ART AND MENTAL ILLNESS IT MADE ME CRY" and they dig up his SMs and he's like. A political commentator and activist/youtuber who speaks like 9 languages and has an history degree despite being like 22 and is working towards an anthropology degree now and pays the bills by being a fucking. Fashion model and there's INSANE photoshoots of him in all sort of artsy high fashion pictures in b&w like covered in bloodied bandages in BDSM gear dressed like a priest etc etc interspersed with like very good thinkpieces on consumerism and art and politics and the very rare YouTube 4-parters on random subjects with INCREDIBLE visuals and everyone is like what the fuck. What the FUCK Laios how do you even KNOW this dude and Laios is like he kept showing up at the grocery store during my turn and asking for ideas on what to make for dinner and one guy in chat asks but aren't you usual on at nighttime and he's like yeah it was like 3am for the most part and everyone is like LAIOS PLEASE
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r4di0h3ad · 4 months ago
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just practice part 2
part 1!
pairings! bsf!jj x reader
in which! you cant stop thinking about the night you lost your virginity to jj…. even though you have a boyfriend
warnings! 18+ smut. cheating. fingering. oral sex (m. recieving) pnv sex. unprotected sex. not proof read.
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it had been two months since you lost your virginity to jj and almost a month and a half since you started officially dating your new boyfriend.
he was nice. he took you out to eat once a week, he bought you small gifts, he complimented you and you never argued. but the sex was just…bad. it was always over way too quickly and he never payed any attention to your body or what you wanted. you figured he was just one of those boys who was too scared to go down on a girl, which was fine, but it probably wouldn’t suit you in the long run.
you hadn’t been hanging around your friends very often, usually turning them down to go out with your boyfriend and jj was getting increasingly frustrated with this.
but every time you were around your friends, jj in particular, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. when you talked to him, all you thought about was the way he called you baby when he came on your stomach and the way he made you cum on his face. you felt so completely guilty for these thoughts, but nothing would stop them. you figured the best plan of action was to avoid him. not entirely, but just try not to be around him alone.
but, you did end up alone with jj by mistake one afternoon.
you had just finished surfing with kie as the swell had come in that day. you both planned to stay at the beach a little longer, but you were hungry and didn’t have any food. kie decided to go pick up something from the heyward’s shop and you went back to the chateau to grab a six pack, only to find jj working on his bike, his shirt off and his shorts dirty, probably from engine oil.
you didn’t say anything as you walked up the steps to the porch, but jj noticed you and called out.
“hey, y/n!” he yelled, wiping his hands off on a towel and throwing it on his bike. “thought you were gonna stay at the shore until later?”
you were in your damp bikini top and bottoms and a pair of sandals. you turned around at the sound of his voice and met his gaze.
“yeah..” you said. awkwardly. “i am, i was just grabbing some beers.” you turn back around, pulling open the screen door and stepping inside. once you’re in the kitchen with the refrigerator door cracked, you hear jj come into the château after you.
“what’s going on with you?” he asks, standing in the living room. you shut the refrigerator and look over at him with furrowed brows.
“what do you mean?” you question, although you knew exactly what he meant. you didn’t expect the confrontation to happen now of all times.
“don’t act like you don’t know.” he crosses his arms over his chest. “you’ve been weird around me ever since we..”
you didn’t want to hear him say it.
“jj, i’ve just been hanging around my boyfriend a lot,” you try to defend yourself, hoping he’ll stop questioning you. “i’m sorry i haven’t been talking to you. ‘been busy.”
he nods, biting his lip and looking down at the floor.
“do you regret it?” he asks, looking back up at you.
“what?” you shake your head. “no, i just-“
“you promised you wouldn’t make things weird between us and now you barely even talk to me.” jj said. “you sure i didn’t do something wrong?”
“no jj!” your voice raised slightly. “i-“ you cut yourself off, not knowing what to say. “it’s just that every time i try and talk to you, i think about what we did.” you blurt out, almost making it sound like you both murdered someone and hid the body. you made it sound like a crime, and it pogue rules, it technically was. “i thought that avoiding you was gonna take my mind off it until i got over it.”
he walks closer to the kitchen, tossing his hat somewhere on the counter.
“so you do regret it?” he questions, leaning against the counter and looking straight at you.
you shake your head no.
“i don’t, but it’s kind of wrong of me to think about you while my boyfriend’s fucking me.”
you realized what you said after it had already left your mouth and your eyes widened.
“what’d you say?” he asks, cocking his head a little at your admission, a barely visible smile playing on his lips.
“uh-“
you quickly turn around to open the fridge again, looking for some beers to take and get the hell up out of there.
“no, say it again.” jj pulls your arm, twisting you back around to face him so that your bodies were dangerously close together. your face flushed with embarrassment and your heart was thumping out of your chest.
“jj,” you say, shrugging off his touch. “i really gotta go back to the shore.” you say, but you weren’t moving. jj knew that wasn’t what you really wanted.
“i’m not stopping you.” he pulled back from you and leaned against the counter once again, showing that you had free will to leave, but you still didn’t budge. your feet were glued in place.
you wanted to kiss him so bad and get that ridiculous smile off his lips, but the thought of your boyfriend who did little to please you was the only thing that was keeping you from doing it. you bit the inside of your cheek, nervously. the tension between you two was going to make your head explode.
“he doesn’t fuck you like i do, does he?”
his words were your final straw.
you grabbed both sides of his face and instantly connected you lips with his. he kissed you back without a second thought, wrapping his arms around your waist. he backed you into the refrigerator as his lips moved perfectly with yours.
his fingers trailed down your hips and to your clothed core. he pulled away from the kiss to look at you, silently asking for permission for him to touch you, and you gave it.
still having you against the refrigerator’s surface, he skillfully moved your bikini bottoms to the side as two of his fingers sunk into your entrance. you were embarrassingly soaked already. you fight back a moan as he pulled out of you, just to slide right back in, hitting the spot he knew you needed.
“all this and i’ve barely even touched you?” he mocked, taking his fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth. he looked you in the eyes as he sucked your slickness from his fingers. your lips were parted as you watched, desperately needing his hands on you again.
he then picked you up, his hands hooked under your thighs. you giggled as he carried you to the bedroom, kicking the door closed.
he gently placed you on the bed and reconnected his lips with yours, his tongue swiping yours. you reached to work on his belt, swiftly undoing it and pulling it off while never breaking the kiss. you slid his shorts down, his boxers barely hiding his desperation for you.
you palm him through the fabric, eliciting a groan from him against your lips that you needed to hear more of.
you sunk to your knees in front of him, yanking his boxers down and allowing his painfully hard cock to spring free. you took him in your hand, pumping a few times before your tongue poked through your lips to lick a long stripe from the base of his shaft to the tip.
he gently grabbed your hair, trying to pull you away, but you licked him again, which loosened his grip.
“you don’t have to-“ his eyes rolled back as you finally took him all in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you sucked his cock. your hands were placed on his knees. the moan you heard from him encouraged you to keep going, although his tip was hitting the back of your throat and you were trying hard not to gag. “fuck- baby, you don’t have to do this.”
you pull him from your mouth, a string of spit connecting your lips with his tip.
“i want to.” you say before taking him in your mouth again. he tries to keep his eyes locked with yours, but his head falls back in pleasure, his fingers lacing into your hair.
you only knew how to do this because your boyfriend showed you. you had to keep your eyes closed the whole time so you could pretend it was jj.
his breathing was getting heavier with each rise and fall of his chest as soft moans and strings of curses fell from his lips. he couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward, forcing his cock farther into your mouth. there were tears brimming your eyes as you tried to focus on pleasuring him.
“fuck- m’not gonna last much longer like this.” he said.
you kept going, desperately wanting to bring him over the edge, but he pulled your hair back, taking you off of him.
“gotta stop you, princess.” he grabbed your hands and helped you up from your knees. you sat on the bed, pouting. he stood over you, brushing your hair out of your face and noticing your change of attitude. “didn’t wanna cum like that.”
as much as you wished you could make him cum by sucking him off, you couldn’t complain now that he was giving you attention.
his hands guided themselves to your waist, where he then told you to turn around so you were now on your hands and knees, your ass facing him. he was still standing as he held your hips from the edge of the bed. you felt his tip at your entrance.
“this okay?” he asked.
you give him a yes, and then you feel him slowly enter you. it felt so much different than when he had been on top of you before. there was a slight pain due to how much deeper he could push into you from this angle, but the pain melted into pleasure within seconds.
he pulled out just to drive himself back into you. his pace was slow until you adjusted to the position, and then he steadily began going faster. his fingers dug into the sides of your ass, pulling you into him with every thrust.
as he went harder, you gripped the sheets and stuffed your face into the mattress under you, trying to keep yourself quiet, but you couldn’t stop the moans that escaped your lips.
“fuck-“ jj cursed under his breath, his grip on you getting even harder. “feel so good, can’t get enough of this pussy”
his words brought you closer and his pace increased. you could feel him getting tenser, his thrusts getting sloppier.
“could have you like this every day if i could- shit.”
you were almost over the edge, the knot in your stomach threatening to undo.
“fuck- m’gonna cum princess” he moaned.
his last thrusts were deep and slow and they led you into perfect ecstasy. you came undone around his cock, moaning into the sheets right in time for him to pull out and finish on your back- your name leaving his mouth with curses and moans.
your body was limp when he cleaned your back with a towel, still in a haze from your orgasm.
“you okay?” he asked, running a hand down the middle of your back, feeling the ridges of your spine.
you nodded and sat up, grabbing your bikini from the floor and slipping it back on.
“kie is gonna kill me.” you say, slipping your sandals on your feet. “she’s not gonna believe any excuse i try to give her.”
“i’ll drive you down there.” jj offered. “i mean- are your legs alright to walk all the way to the shore or-“
you threw his shirt at his face and scoffed at him.
you had agreed to let him drive you to the beach while you fixed your hair in the visor mirror, trying to make yourself look presentable. although the whole way there you could only think about the words he said while he fucked you. you had no idea if he meant it or if it was just a thing he said in the moment. and this definitely wasn’t going to help save your thoughts about your boyfriend.
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a/n: don’t know if i will write a part 3 to this, but requests are open for any jj or rafe fic!
tag list! (comment or message to be added or removed!)
@ifilwtmfc @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @xcallmetaniax @moondustedlily @x-0-madi-0-x @tumb1rgir1z
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disgustingtwitches · 6 months ago
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MDNI
Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)
Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.
"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"
Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:
"Next time it's gonna cost ya."
When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.
Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.
"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."
Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.
"Don't you have dishes to put away?"
Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.
You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:
"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"
He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.
As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.
"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."
Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.
"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."
Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.
"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."
Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.
You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.
"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.
Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.
"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.
Compliments that boarder on harassment.
"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.
Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.
"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.
You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.
"Behind!"
Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.
"Yes, Chef."
He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?
You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.
Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.
"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."
He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.
"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"
They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.
"Need help getting that, bonnie?"
Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.
"Johnny?"
Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.
"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"
Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.
"Gonna cum Johnn-"
Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.
~
"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."
Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.
"G'night."
He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"
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that-house · 1 year ago
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Potion Vendor FAQs:
What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.
Do you sell love potions? No.
Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.
Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.
Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.
Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.
So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.
Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.
Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.
Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.
Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.
Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.
Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.
So can you make poison potions? No.
Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.
Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.
How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.
You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.
Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.
Road trip? He lives in Seattle.
Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.
For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.
And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.
Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.
Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.
You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.
So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.
Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.
Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.
Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.
What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.
You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.
Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.
Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.
Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.
Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.
Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.
Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.
When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.
When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.
Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.
Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.
Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.
Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.
I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.
How did you know that? …I’m psychic.
Yeah? No.
You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.
Did you just miss a turn? Probably.
Are you sure we’re not lost? No.
You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.
Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.
Would it help if I said it was? It would.
Is it getting dark? Soon.
Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.
Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.
Should we find a motel? Sure.
One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.
You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.
Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.
Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.
How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.
How many beds are there? One.
Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.
Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.
How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.
Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.
For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.
Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.
Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.
Are you asleep? …
Yes? …
Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …
What should I say? …
Did you know that I had a really nice day? …
Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …
Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …
Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …
Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …
Did you know that you’re warm? …
Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.
Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.
Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.
What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!
Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.
You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!
Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.
Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.
You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.
Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.
Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.
How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.
Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.
150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.
Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.
And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!
Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.
And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.
So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.
So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!
Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.
Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.
Are you done eating? Yep.
Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.
How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.
Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.
Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.
What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.
Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.
Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…
Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.
Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?
When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.
Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.
What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.
Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.
What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.
Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.
Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.
What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.
I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …
Did he get his body modified? …
What sort of surgery could do that? …
How is he still alive? …
Did a fucking wizard do it? …
WHY? …
HOW? …
Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …
I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.
Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.
Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.
Can we do that? Of course.
Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.
Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.
Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.
Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.
How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.
How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.
That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.
Wanna fuck? God yes.
Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.
…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.
How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.
How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!
Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.
When will we get there? Noon-ish.
Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.
Is this Seattle? Looks like it.
Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.
Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.
So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA
Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA
Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.
Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.
So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!
How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.
Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.
Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.
Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!
Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!
Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.
I just caught this, but, FAQ? …
As in Frequently Asked Questions? …
How many times is Frequent? …
Have you known everything all along? …
How many times have you done this? …
Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!
And you say that every time? Yes. I do.
Do you love me? Yes.
How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.
Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.
Can I go now? Please don’t.
But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.
How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.
What happens at the end of this? It begins again.
And do I get replaced with someone else? …
Do I get replaced? …Yes.
Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!
You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.
How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?
Did you know my name is Alice? …
Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …
Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …
Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!
Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.
Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.
Be good to the next me, okay? I will.
Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…
What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.
Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.
What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.
What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!
What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.
Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.
What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.
What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!
So I should keep repeating something? Yes!
I love you? I love you too.
I love you? Again.
I love you? Keep going.
I love you? I’ll just let you talk.
I love you? …
I love you? … I love you? …
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I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!
I love you? Now can you make it a statement?
I love you.
You did it?
I did it!
You did it!
We broke the loop.
What now?
Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.
And then?
Whatever we want, forever.
I think I’d like that.
Remember that song from the beginning?
The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?
We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?
Let me off, let me in
Let others battle
We don’t need to battle
And we both shall win
Pressed in my palm
Was a stone from the beach
The perfect circle
Gave a moment of peace
Now I’m lying on the floor
Like I’m not worth a chair
I close my eyes and imagine
I’m not there.
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