#but if you just wanna Smell Nice then store brand is A-Okay!!

[pernesophe]

Totally agree with OP on all of the above, also some of my favorite scents were freebies or less than $5 that I found a spiritual / crystal shop too!

Another favorite scent of mine is the Target Frenshe perfume in vanilla cashmere that I mix with the Bergamot Cedar (same brand) for a more complex scent. Their staying power is about 3-4 hours on me, but that’s really not that bad for their price.

I think the science of perfumery has just elevated within our lifetime, because I’m prone to migraines and for a cheap-ish perfume this brand doesn’t trigger them for me. Their discovery set of samples was $14, and I got 3 other scents that I enjoyed that lasted me an entire summer!

Also, I would like to add some of my go to resources:

This entire Twitter thread from @/MUHLEEKUHH is a guide to finding your scent as a beginner! It includes other sites that inform about scents/perfumes as well as a list of sites/apps they use to find samples.

This thread I’m more sharing for fun (and because I really wanna try these scents), but it’s another discovery set! Which may still be pricey, but I just wanted to list it because I think a lot of brands offer sets like this. And like I mentioned before, the samples last a lot longer than you think!

And @/slothsmells on Twitter is my go to on anything else to do with scents! They mostly share higher priced brands, but it’s a good starting point if you want to search for dupes. Also they make these ADORABLE scent boards organized by a particular scent (the two below are their lychee and honey boards):

man it sucks so many people on here have absolutely convinced themselves that entire categories of consumer goods like perfume are bougie. you are depriving yourself of little treats by just assuming you cant ever afford anything! this isnt an avocado toast post either im not saying 'just save up and buy it lol', i would never say that, what im saying is perfume (that is: scents in liquid, paste, oil or solid form intended to be worn as a personal adornment) as a commodity starts at "free" and gradually increases in price from there. my favorite perfumes are priced everywhere between $0 and $300. one of the most lauded amber scents in the world (regrettably JUST discontinued), "Amber Paste" by Kuumba Made, is one of those little hippie oils you get at Whole Foods and it cost $10.

and im not telling you to wear perfume, obviously people have allergies and shit, or just dont care for it, im talking to the people who WANT to own fragrances. im saying they aren't all going to cost $150.

you can also get unlimited (unlimited over a long enough timeline, they limit you to a couple or three per visit) free samples at a lot of sephoras and nordstroms if you live somewhere that has those stores (this depends on the location and a lot of other organic factors, you'll have to check ahead of time or just try it if you're nearby, it's sort of random). if you're actually buying something at sephora (and they have a lot of stuff that isn't a million dollars as well, despite their branding) ask for every free sample at checkout that they have. they will often load you up, and not just with perfume. secondhand outlets like Value Village and Goodwill also do huge business in perfume because people are ALWAYS donating it.

sephora also does perfume refills. if you actually do buy a full size bottle, they can refill it for much less than buying a whole new bottle of the stuff. i don't know exactly how much it costs because i havent used this service myself. and idk how careful yiou have to be about reeceipts either, but look into it if you bought a full size and its running out

idk it just bums me out there are all these people who actually want perfume and seem to think it's out of their price range. the really basement-tier dupes of popular brand scents are so good these days it's often worth dropping the $10 at Walmart or Rite Aid too.

some of my favorite ever perfumes were some weird crap i got in a crystal wizard store, or a drug store, or a goodwill, or whatever. if you want perfume you can get it

[chil2de]

Your sharing a bed with the JJK men hc's were incredible 😩 special mentions for Megumi's bed head, Nanami being a secret cuddle bug, and Yuuta having to drink both iced coffees (that fucking sent me fjdndnfd I could picture it so clearly).

You're super talented so could I, er, possible get a NSFW version? 👀 💳💥💥💥💳💳💥💳💥

Thank you so much 🥺💕

hello anonie!!! thank you dear i’m so glad you liked them!! please the credit card emojis had me cackling LMFAOOOO you really made my whole day out here!!!(THE ICED COFFEE WAS MY FAVOURITE PART TOO)

well i managed to hit the max amount of characters allowed in a tumblr post with five characters alone so i’m going to have to split this up into several posts. it just kinda happened ig

characters in this post: itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, fushiguro toji (megumi was supposed to be here but i had to reserve him for next post😔)

this work is nsfw. if you’re new here, please read my disclaimer before proceeding. thank you and enjoy!

based off of this post

itadori

- itadori would prob be a ‘deer in the headlights’ if you woke him up in the middle of the night

- but after that? shit, he’s so nice to you. so kind and generous for his baby girl. whether he’s fucking you ‘cause he thinks you might be able to sleep after an orgasm or there’s just an incessant desire for him- doesn’t really matter all that much to itadori. he loves you either way :)

- gets horny so easily LMFAO

- would 100% dick you down if you asked him to and i like to think that he still keeps his really sweet personality during sex cause aaaa he would be so soft and reassuring

- hardcore dom yuuji sounds sexy as all hell but let’s be real… this man won’t kill a fly and apologises for stepping on ants. only exception being angry sex but overall reserving hard dom for sukuna :)

you pepper tiny kisses onto itadori’s face, treating him with the utmost care like handling fine china. his skin feels so soft against your lips, and he smells very faintly of milky soap. there’s some traces of brand cologne on his shirt, as well as his natural scent.

“yuuujiii-“ you coo, blowing air very gently. when he doesn’t stir, you run your fingertips through a bundle of his cotton candy tainted hair. it evokes a reaction from him, so you continue to press him.

“y-uuuu-ji!”

after a few moments, itadori lets out a soft whine before grumbling incoherent blabber. “i won’t eat the pineapple! kugisaki will scream at me!��

you giggle before prodding him again, when finally he relents and jolts awake, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted at how close your face is to his.

“‘s it morning yet?” he wrinkles his nose, stifling a yawn. you emit a hum in thought before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you into him. itadori squeaks in surprise when he feels you latch your lips onto his neck, suckling and carefully breaking the bonds underneath his sensitive skin. his moan comes out groggy, still laced with sleep.

“that drives me crazy, you know that, right?” itadori laughs, though his voice comes as a wobble.

“i know. and they look so good on you too, hm?” you giggle, caressing one hand from his neck and then down to the hem of his shirt. your fingertips flutter against his bare skin and he shivers physically and audibly. you smooth your palm flat along his chest, dragging your nails carefully against his muscles.

“kinda.. wanna.. go to.. sleep.. but i don’t.. wanna fall asleep…” itadori mumbles against his pillow. the fabric muffles most of it, but there’s a strain in his voice that leads you to believe he’s moaning lightly. guess after sukuna ripped his heart out, this area hasn’t been quite the same, huh?

“so? then go to sleep, yuuji. i’ll be fine-“ “-no way! i gotta take care of you”

“so why don’t you?”

“‘m going to! i was asleep just half a minute ago!”

“and besides-“

he shifts himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the headrest. itadori opens his arms, motioning for you to crawl on top of him. without any haste, you clamber over his built frame, ghosting just over the print of his hard dick.

“not that i mind but- we did, you know, in the morning already-“ “oh, shit, sorry- it’s totally fine if you don’t want t-“ “-just messing with you!”

itadori pulls your neck down and gifts you with the same treatment you were offering him earlier. his tongue is hot and wet against your skin and you can already feel the precipitation forming at the back of your knees. calloused yet tender hands smooth around your waist and he smooths his palms over your shoulder blades.

after itadori’s satisfied with the mark he left, you can’t help but groan a little into his mouth when his lips suddenly claim yours. he drinks you up, relying solely on your taste like he’s drowning and you’re the air he needs.

itadori takes his sweet time cherishing you, or rather it’s still his state of half slumber, but you can feel a dull ache prick your abdomen. you scratch up his shirt, motioning for him to take it off. you’re unsure what comes over you, but shit, you don’t want him- you need him.

“heyheyhey, ‘s okay. don’t worry, i got you.”

“i’ll take care of you.”

“just relax, okay? i got this.” he only coos with sweet reassurances, peppering small kisses and handling you with the utmost precision.

you whimper, balancing your palms flat against his abdomen for additional support as you sink down onto itadori’s cock. he lets out a hum of content, forehead bumping against yours as he allows you to adjust.

“you good?” he murmurs after a few moments, capturing a few strands of your hair in between his fingertips. you nod meekly and itadori hisses out a breathy exhale. he’s sure that if he goes rough as shit you might end up more broken than being able to sleep, so he screws his eyes shut and exhales to maintain his composure.

blazing hot lips scrape against your ear, and his voice comes out in a husky tone.

“tell me how you want it.”

by the lords of everything and all that is holy, itadori only chants the same phrase over and over in his mind. it’s a miracle that he’s able to think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock. he’s more than happy to take it slow, reward you with slow and long strokes while he showers you with high praises. but he can’t ignore the twitch that he experiences when he envisions that pretty lil fucked out face of yours, all messy and ruined for him.

you mutter that you have no preference, that you don’t care because anything he’ll do for you is perfect, and it only gives him a beaming smile at your words.

itadori grabs the scrunched up ball of his shirt that he was wearing before ripping the fabric into half with his bare teeth. you watch his eyebrows perk when he notices how fucking hot you just found that, evident with the way your walls fluttered around him.

“here, babe.”

you part your lips and he stuffs the fabric into your mouth, there’s a little bit of excess hanging out, but he reminds you that you look sexy as hell either way, on top of his dick like that with your hands on his chest, legs spread, face flushed and ready for him.

“don’t wanna be wakin’ anyone else up.”

yuuta

this man is about to end my whole career

yuuta wouldn’t bring it up on his own accord just because… respect.. and he doesn’t want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable into doing things you’re not ready to.

it’s kind of a gray area for him because he doesn’t relish the idea of bringing up sensitive and/or extremely awkward topics so he really said ‘i’ll leave it up to future me’s problem’

but holy shit. let me absolutely tell you.

the second you hint at it? anything of the sorts? 0 to 100. he is FREAKY you cannot tell me he’s innocent just LOOK at the man

can make you scream with ease. all that practice he’s been doing with handling katanas? he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum. will gladly lick up your leftover juices and remark with a smile on his face how ‘it tastes good, angel’

similarly to itadori, i think he would be sweet and patient when asking for your preferences, etc, but after that you’re gonna have to find something to bite onto

“and? what’d you tell her?” yuuta remarks from over his fanned out deck of three cards. his gaze flickers to you as he awaits a response before using his index and middle finger to lay down a +4 card.

“red, by the way.”

you huff and glare at your boyfriend, picking up four cards and attempting to hold them in such a way that they don’t all fall and rattle to the floor. truth be told? you’re seriously a sore fuckin’ loser. you don’t know how he does it, but you’ve never managed to win a game against yuuta.

“i told maki-san that it’s her problem, not mine. if she’s so pressed about people taking them, why does she keep noodles stored in the fridge? really, noodles in the fridge? they’re really spicy as well! made my nose run like hell.” you scoff in distaste, throwing down a random red card on the pile.

“you totally ate them didn’t you?” yuuta giggles, beaming you a wide smile.

“also.. told her that i didn’t see them instead but- yeah.”

“aren’t you worried she’ll find out? oh, and, uno.”

“she might just beat me up to be honest, and, uno, you say? not anymore, love.” you sneer, throwing down a +4 card.

“i want green.”

“i’d protect you.” yuuta states over his cards. you feel like cracking a joke and laughing, but there’s absolutely zero implication on his facial features to show that he’s joking. that, and his serious tone, of course.

you flip your cards down onto the table and yuuta squeaks, pointing towards them.

“uh- i can see your cards-“

“it’s okay, not like i was gonna win anyway.”

at this point, yuuta’s mind races a hundred miles an hour. he’s panicking, blood pressure raised, heart thumping and throat clogged. oh, shit, did he do something wrong? did he upset you? is it ‘cause he said he’d protect you with no regards to the fact that you’re perfectly capable of fending yourself off against maki? fuck, he’s such a god damn screw-up, can’t even take care of his girlfriend correct-

“hey.”

your fingertips slide around his neck, hands interlocking at the base of his head. your thighs balance on his lap and you straddle him, legs either side of his.

he can’t help but hitch his breath, holding it in as though one wrong move and you would dematerialise.

“what’re you thinking about in that head of yours?”

whether you’re referencing his mini panic attack just now, or if you’re referring to all the multiple times he’s battled just bending you over and railing the absolute shit out of you, there’s not much room for debate when you brush your clothed sex up against the print of his dick.

yuuta snakes his slender hands around your throat, holding it in place. you can feel the arousal pool and wash over you, and you’d be more than surprised if you hadn’t soaked through your clothes.

he lets out a breathy laugh, devastating your stomach with butterflies due to how attractive he sounds. yuuta’s soft lips brush the shell of your ear and his other hand moves to rest on your waist,

“why don’t i show you?”

before you can utter a tease something along the lines of “show me what? how you’re too scared to hit me in bed?” you’re already down, flipped over and bent over the table you and yuuta were using moments prior ago for uno. the cards have splattered all over the wooden floor and you only hiss in discomfort as the cool surface scratches against your delicate skin. your boyfriend towers over you, leaning down as his torso clicks into place against your back. even through his titanium white jacket, you can feel his calm and collected heartbeat. he rests his head on your shoulder, nudging his face into you.

“don’t scream, okay? or, try not to, at least-“

his warm fingertips ghost over the curve of your ass, where he pinches the skin there before delivering a loud slap. you squeak, back arching as you jolt from the action. he proceeds by grabbing the inside of your thighs, long middle finger hoisting around your underwear and pulling it to the side. he makes note of the red lingerie you’re wearing and gives you a small chuckle, peppering a kiss to the side of your face.

“-unless, of course-“

“-you’d prefer everyone hear me fuck you stupid.”

“safe word’s blue, angel. i love you and thank you.”

truth be told, you were never sure what to expect from yuuta. hell, you’d never really seen the man’s dick before, sure you caught glimpses in the morning whenever he’d wake up but it’s really not the same. nothing in the world can compare to the first time you felt his piping hot tip brush up against your slicked cunt. and it was embarrassing, actually, the way your pussy was seething for him already.

with a firm hold on your tailbone, yuuta utilises his lower body strength to ram his dick all the way inside. there’s a garbled and choked moan that hisses from you when you feel your walls wrap and deform around the girth of yuuta’s dick. you whine even more so when you can physically feel a thick vein that decorates his shaft.

“the mirror.” yuuta commands in a low tone, redirecting you to glance at the same mirror you’d always fantasised about him fucking you in front of.

his eyes are half lidded, riddled with concentration. it reminds you of that feral and focused gaze he gets during serious battles.

“don’t look at me. look here.”

you trail the outline of yuuta’s arm veins as a result of him rolling his uniform sleeves up; following his v line that points towards his dick. you can only gawk in awe when you realise you’ve taken him to the base of his shaft.

his gaze locks with yours for a split second and he snaps his hips out until just about his tip is visible inside your cunt.

and shit, if his pretty pink cock isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, especially with that attractive curve. you’re sure the gesture is just to wind you up, but you can’t help but swoon at him showcasing his pride to you.

“so- mmhf- pretty-“ you whine, words jumbled and breath caught when he slams his dick inside without any prior warning. you can only shriek in exclamation when his tip bruises your cervix, and you’re unsure whether you lament the sensation or not.

he only gives you a cheerful hum, reminding you of his usual cheery disposition. it’s not until then that you realise how much of a fucking beast he’s acting right now.

“right? i’ll put it to good use, i promise.”

gojo

- i know we’re all thinking the same thing here lmfao

- trying to sleep? good for you, now, open your legs for satoru.

- oh you can’t sleep? atta girl, down on your knees for satoru.

- bye i can literally imagine gojo saying some dumbass shit like “think you were trying to sleep but i couldn’t help but think how good my dick would look down your throat like that. sorry, love, you’re not sleeping tonight.”

you blink your eyes in turn with the cicadas chirping aside, stifling a yawn. everything around you down to the very last detail screams at you to sleep, but you just cannot. from the pitch black night that floods the room obscurely, to gojo’s even and quiet breathing beside you. you’ve tried it all. you’ve counted an excess amount of sheep, you’ve tensed and relaxed your body more than you can remember. hell, no matter how many times you’ve flipped the pillow you always seemed to feel less exhausted each time.

you can’t watch netflix, because you’ve binged all your favourite shows. it’s not that you’d wake gojo up because, who cares? by the time you finish scrolling through the endless lists it’ll be time to get up.

you ponder over the things you can do, continuing to subconsciously blink furiously. that is until gojo makes note of your stupid actions and starts giggling like a high schooler at his first sleepover.

“what the hell are you doing?” he snorts, cackling into the pillow like it’s the best joke he’s heard for quite some time.

“shut up, satoru. i’m trying to sleep you ass.” you tut at him, berating him for ruining your divine concentration.

gojo audibly shifts onto his stomach, his right arm crosses over the back of his head as he lazily rests his palm onto his scalp. the other arm preoccupies itself by landing it smack bang onto your chest, fingers wandering up to cup your breast.

“satoru, huh? that’s daddy for ya” he remarks, still giggling in a state of half asleep.

“uh-huh. goodnight.” you dismiss him and his nonsense.

“just go take a shower. always helps me whenever i can’t sleep.”

“hm? you’re giving me actual good advice and being a normal boyfriend? i think i might be asleep already, this is the best dream ever.” you remark sarcastically, prying gojo’s glued wrist off of your breast and sitting up. you could go for a shower, actually. you’re not sure why but it’s always so therapeutic to take one at night rather than the morning.

“huuuh? how could you say that? you’re so mean, (y/n)-chaan! i offered you my love and the world and this is how you repay m-“

“-goodnight satoru. i love you.”

“don’t think professing your love for me will change my mind! i’m still upset at you right now, young lady!” gojo shouts from over his pillow, exclaiming and irritating you in the way he knows how to best.

“yeah, yeah. okay.” you mumble softly to yourself, bearing a wide grin from ear to ear nonetheless.

when you move to crank the water on in the shower, you realise that you didn’t bring along a change of clothes. you momentarily pop back into the bedroom to ransack the drawer for anything that you can find.

“are you back to apologise for being so mean to me?” gojo whines and you can see the pout evident on him even when it’s pitch black.

“no, i’m just here for clothes, satoru.”

you hear him mumble something but it’s muffled by the sheets he’s underneath so you don’t heed any attention to it and resume in taking a shower to help keep your insomnia at bay.

with a ginger step and a small ‘oopf’, you heave yourself into the large shower that only a headass like gojo would bother buying. it’s reminiscent to what a hot tub looks like on the inside, with surrounding jets practically in a full 360 degrees. the things so steep that there’s a small step up in front of the shower outside the actual structure. it must have cost quite the fortune.

you reach in for the built in shelf to grab ahold of some of your toiletries as you allow the water to fall in a gentle sprinkle, almost like rain. there’s an audible squeeze reminiscent to trying to get the last ounces of ketchup as you apply some body gel to your hands, lathering it up.

despite standing, the warmth of the water leads your muscles to feel less tense. the only noteworthy downside is that the running water is tremendously loud. how on earth is gojo sleeping through all that racket?

slender fingertips ghost over your inner thighs. you can feel his wet and sturdy chest in place against your spine.

“surprised to see me?”

“you know i can’t let my baby talk shit like that.”

really? that’s his issue at hand here?

“so which is it?”

“acting like an intolerant brat because you’re tired or ‘cause you wanna get dicked down?”

gojo loops his arm underneath your leg, bending it up. you almost topple over in the process and you lay one hand flat against the tile.

“don’t answer that. sometimes it’s so obvious that you’re such a whore for my dick.”

“huh?! what the shit are you saying?” you snap at how correct he is.

gojo yanks your face back, digging his fingers into your cheeks as he forces you to face him. it almost sends your neck into two pieces, straining to look back at him.

“oh, really princess? just the other day you were begging me to fuck you”

“remember that? couldn’t wait so you rode me in the car? you know, baby, all you gotta do is ask.”

your legs tremble and psyche wobbles when he pries your mouth open with his thumb, promptly before spitting into it.

“don’t bother with the bullshit. i’ll play the games, not you.”

he drags his hard cock against the curve of your ass, slapping it against you.

“i don’t think i feel like fuckin’ you right now.” gojo sneers, humming sardonically. his lips quickly latch onto yours when you spin around to meet his gaze. like the fucker he is, gojo moans and whines into the kiss- lips ravaging you whole and tongue capturing your essence.

“baby girl, i was gonna let you top me. you know i don’t let anyone do that.”

his long middle finger prods against your cunt, forcing itself in with ease.

“damn, you’re soaked. you really wanted to milk me dry that bad?”

you hate him. hate him so fucking bad. he flashes you that attractive smile of his, azure eyes sparkling and snow white hair disturbed with water.

gojo pulls his finger out before sucking onto it in front of you, lapping all the excess arousal off.

“i’m not playing with you tonight.”

toji

- i literally don’t even need to say anything here

- just be sure to make a hospital check up appointment or something

- um-i uh- please remember to breathe after this one? maybe touch some grass? ALSO my first time writing for toji AAA i hope he’s okay

maybe if you don’t breathe? nah, that wouldn’t work. there’s still air acting around your limbs when you move so you’d be disturbing the barriers there. let’s see… maybe bit by bit? surely if you slowly inched his shirt up? then again, wouldn’t toji chew you out halfway through? maybe you should just give it to him straight up? just slip your hand under his shirt. come on. but he looks so peaceful, sleeping like that.. long eyelashes fluttered closed, lips relaxed and not scowling. his eyebrows are softly arched. he looks so soft, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath.

fuck it. just do it. cuddle him already.

you muster up all your courage in one fell swoop and you bend one leg over toji, resting it just above his groin. your right arm sprawls out over his chest and your hand rests against his toned arm. he’s already sleeping with one arm bent up with his hand supporting the back of his head, so you utilise the free real estate to nestle your head in the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet.

when he doesn’t move after a while, you deem your life to be safe and exhale with ease.

“you’re not asleep.” toji states in a groggy, husky tone. it’s supposed to be a question, but, coming from him it almost sounds like a challenge.

“yes?” you squeak out meekly.

“‘yes?’ you asleep or not?”

“i can’t sleep again.” you murmur against his shirt and he exhales a small sigh. the arm that you’re clinging onto moves to draw small circles on your thigh that rests on toji.

“when’d you notice?” you inquire, glancing down at his large wrists.

“like five minutes ago. nice try, kid.” toji snorts indifferently, chuckling at your behaviour.

when you don’t make an effort to respond, toji’s interest peaks and he lets out a small hum of intrigue when he follows your gaze.

he turns his head, brushing his lips up against your temples.

“see anything interesting down there?”

“as a matter of fact-“

you nestle yourself in between toji’s large and built thighs, digits curling around the waistband of his boxers. he only smirks at you through the dark, cock twitching through the fabric. you notice toji hover his hips up so that you can slide his boxers off for him and you happily oblige.

“-i do.” you chime, licking your lips.

it’s cute, though, if you thought toji was gonna let you handle him like that all by yourself.

as you kiss a trail up his thick shaft, toji yanks ahold fistfuls of your hair before grabbing your face off of his cock.

“who said you could suck my dick? that’s real cute.”

“thinking you actually have a place in my house.”

“i didn’t train you to be such a depraved slut. know your fucking place, because this isn’t it.”

“how many times do i gotta tell you? you don’t belong here. look around. do you see anything that shows a woman lives here? no? that’s because you’re nothing but a fuck doll for me.”

toji hisses out profanities at the gag you spew when he slams your tiny little mouth back down on his dick.

“lose the teeth you imbecile. unless you’re trying to tell me that you can’t suck my dick properly.”

incessant whines and garbled sentences are muffled by toji’s cock. whatever remnants you had of your vision are nothing but a blur as tears stream your cheeks, nose running and sniffles resurface in a repeating pattern over the slick sounds of slurping and gagging. your mouth stretches as far as it can go and the corners of your lips shriek in despair. you can feel the skin there stretch and pull beyond what’s considered normal.

even through all that, you manage to glance up at toji through your water logged lashes. you’ll be a good girl for him. you need to be.

“fuuuck. that’s a pretty sight.” he grumbles and a deep chuckle resonates through his chest. within a few moments, toji fumbles to reach for something.

you can only wince and screw your eyes at the suddenly blinding flash of a light in front of you. one can only assume he’s taken a photo of you in your humiliating state.

you can feel the fear settle into your veins when that telltale ping of a message being sent vibrates throughout the room. if you were to listen hard enough, you could hear a notification go off in the next room over.

your throat feels raw, jaw tense and locked open. it’s been a good twenty minutes of toji face fucking you to teach you a valid lesson. it’s all in the will of him wanting to drag this on, savouring every miniscule slurp, whimper or gasp. when his strokes start to feel sloppier than usual, you can’t help but feel relieved.

as you squirm about due to toji shooting hot ropes of his thick cum down your throat, the door softly clicks open.

“megumi. you’re just in time.”

“she’s way more obedient than your mom ever used to be.”

[oysters-aint-for-me]

there’s this stuff i like to put in my hair. it’s some kind of oil and smells like vanilla and coconut. i’m not saying the brand bc i am paranoid about being an advertisement. but it makes my hair smell nice and i like the smell ok? sue me. anyway i ran out a while ago and i bought a new bottle of it at the grocery store. then i promptly lost it (obviously) i’ve been looking for it for ?!?! a MONTH?! well ok then saint anthony, if you wanna play it that way…i know his game. sometimes good old st. tony doesn’t help you find something until you buy a new one, you know? so i was like okay, tony, i give up, i’ll just buy another bottle and then i’ll find the one i lost. i know the drill i get the concept of irony and sacrifice etc. so i went to the grocery store to buy a new bottle and they were all out. now how am i supposed to outsmart st. anthony! also the other night i had a dream that i was driving down the street near an italian restaurant in my town (that makes truly terrible small town pizza) and there was a baby just…in the middle of the street?!?! like someone just left a baby in the middle of the street. and i fucking kept driving. or i let my mother keep driving it was unclear who exactly was driving but we definitely drove past the baby. then i was like “we should have checked on that baby” i was so tired in the dream but i was also like. this is not morally negotiable like if you gave anyone this hypothetical they would say oh my GOD of course i would stop and get the baby out of the ROAD are you KIDDING me it is a BABY! so i was pretty adamant we turn around. but i was sort of afraid bc i thought the baby was gonna already be dead by the time we got there. then the dream got distracted and later on in the dream i drove by that italian restaurant again and there was no baby there. i don’t really think the universe is trying to tell me something. i don’t really believe in that sort of thing. but also i feel like if i were a character in a story that sort of thing would mean something. i’m not a character in a story though. i know that. but sometimes i wish i could let myself feel like one! (a character in a story that is)

normally i’m not like this but i think the universe is trying to tell me something.

[petri808]

If you're open for nalu requests, can you write a smut fic where nalu goes to a lingerie store because lucy wants to try on some lingerie and natsu ends up getting aroused? But if you can't it's fine just ignore this ask😊

Hi Nony, this is the last request I’ll do. Decided to save this for @thenaluarchive Sinfully Nalu event Mirror prompt. What did Lucy expect by dragging Natsu lingerie shopping?

“I’ve just got one more stop to make.” Lucy pointed towards the other side of the mall.

“Ugh…” Natsu’s shoulders dropped, “but we’ve been here for 2 hours already, Lucy, and I’m getting hungry.”

“I’ll spring for lunch. Anything you want.”

“I’m holding you to it,” he grumbled, but allowed her to pull him forward.

Natsu knew the mall well enough to know that the section they were heading towards were mostly women’s clothing stores— definitely not where he wanted to be. All these fancy clothes, and accessories, and… stuff that his girlfriend loved to wear. Sure, he didn’t complain cause it made her happy, he just didn’t wanna shop for it. Forever twenty something, Cache or Channel— whatever, “oh, uh-uh, no way,” he jerked them to a halt. “I ain’t going in there.”

“It’s just Victoria’s Secret.”

“Well Victoria can keep her secret. Lucy you’re crazy if you think I’m going in a women’s lingerie store!”

Lucy turned to face, then grabbed both of Natsu’s hands, holding them together close to her chest. “Please,” her eyes begged. “I need you to tell me what you think will be nice on me.”

Thinking about his girl, in lingerie, while standing in a mall was *not* the image Natsu wanted conjuring in his mind. But between the soft, puppy-dog expression, and her whimpering pleading— he was powerless to turn Lucy down. He sighed with a whine. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Yay!” She giggled, kissed his cheek, and took his hand again, entwining their fingers together. “I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

Yeah, uh-huh, right… Painless.

As they walked down the rows and racks of lingerie, Natsu hummed in his head as a distraction. Bras, panties. Low cut, high cut, thongs, g-strings. Sets, individual pieces. Lace, satin, cotton. So many choices! He let the colors blend in his vision, the scents of brand-new clothing mixed with perfumes sold, or miscellaneous accessories. How do women pick anything when there’s so many options? Give him a t-shirt and jeans and he was good to go.

Every so many picks, Lucy would ask his opinion. ‘Yeah, that’s nice. No, that looks itchy. I like that color. Eww, it doesn’t match you.’ Finding her size in the styles she wanted wasn’t always easy, but after 30 minutes, Lucy had half a dozen or so items to try on. So, they head towards the fitting rooms.

Natsu stopped in front of the doors, and readied himself to stand around and wait—

“You’re coming in with me.” Lucy tugged on his hand. “I need your final opinion.”

Up until now, Natsu had managed to avoid thinking about anything even remotely related to sex, but now?! “Uh-uh, no way!”

“Please…” Lucy turned on the pouty lip-action and puppy-dog eyes again. “It’s not like you won’t see me in them later.”

Natsu gulped hard as the naughty images were unlocked. “Are you trying to kill me in public?”

“Pfft, no,” she giggled. “Stop exaggerating this.”

‘You have no idea, woman…’ “Alright, fine. But don’t blame me if anything happens in there.” Because if the twitch in his pants and slight bulge growing was any indication, it wouldn’t be what she’d be expecting.

“Tch.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “It’ll be fine, Natsu, you’ll see.”

The dressing room was a lot more spacious than he was used to seeing. Men’s fitting rooms, at least the ones he’s been in are like closets with just one full length mirror, and maybe a small bench inside. This one could easily fit them both, with wrap around mirrors to catch every angle. It had a small, cushioned bench along one wall, and a couple of hooks on the inside of the door. But most noteworthy was the fact it was a fully enclosed room— not those partial-length doors at lower-quality stores. It was very, very private.

Natsu sat down on the bench and closed his eyes while Lucy fiddled with her options. He could hear the plastic and metal hangers going up on the hooks, as well as the sounds of his girlfriend shedding her clothing. His mouth suddenly felt dry… Lucy’s voluptuous body bared for him to see with only her regular panties left on— he squeezed his eyes tighter shut. ‘Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it!’

“Ready— Natsu, silly,” Lucy giggled. “How are you gonna tell me if it’s good or not if you can’t see?”

“No.”

Lucy threaded her fingers gingerly through his hair. “Just one peak…”

‘Fuck…’ he groaned as the tightening in his shorts grew uncomfortable. “One peak.”

Natsu opened his eyes and immediately slammed them shut again from the screaming bra and panties glued to her frame. A sheer red with solid fabric only over the nipples and a strip covering her crotch. So much flesh revealed in these outfits, was there even a point to wearing anything at all?

“Great!” His voice squeaked out. “Looks fine.”

Her giggles only added to his demise. The sounds of more fabric rustling, and the twitch in his shorts… Natsu shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable, but he couldn’t. Lucy had grabbed about six of seven different pieces to try, and this was only the beginning. She was too damn sexy, and he swore, derived pleasure out of torturing him like this! Ugh, his cock was so hard right now…

“Okay, next piece,” Natsu heard her say. “I’m not sure about it, cause the color doesn’t seem to look good on me.”

Tch, it could be multi-colored polka dots and Lucy would still be a man’s wet dream. He cracked open one eye. It was a dark green, combo with frilled lace along the waistband. Natsu gulped hard as she did a turn around to reveal a thong and curvy swell of her backside.

“You do realize I’m biased, right?” Natsu blurted out. “Everything looks good on you to me.”

“Awww,” Lucy bent down and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I still think I’ll add this to the maybe pile,” she spoke as she started removing the pieces. “I think you’ll really like the next one I found; it has these cute flames on them.”

“You know what I’d prefer to see?” Natsu questioned, for he was done holding back.

Lucy stopped mid-way, bent slightly over with the thong down to her thighs. “What?”

Without answering her, Natsu got off the bench and started helping her take the thong off.

“Natsu, what are you—”

Once off, he moved onto her regular panties down.

“Nat— s-stop!” Lucy grabbed for his hands, but she couldn’t do much without twisting or tripping. “What are you do—”

“Keep your voice down.” He tugged those off too leaving her exposed from the waist down.

“Natsu this isn’t funny!” She seethed in an exasperated whisper.

“Neither is this,” he gestured at the bulge in his shorts. Guiding her against the mirrored wall as he spoke. “You said I could choose whatever I wanted for lunch, and I’ve decided to put you on the menu.”

Lucy whimpered when she felt the cold mirror against her bare skin. “But we’re in public.”

“I warned you didn’t I…” Natsu leaned in with a whisper, cheek to cheek. “Then I suggest you not make any noise,” his words wisp out, warm breath fanning down the barren skin as his lips burn a trail over her neck. Lucy dug her fingers into his hair, holding on but not stopping him as he moved lower.

His stops were brief, lips ghosting burning marks along her chest, a mountainous journey over the pillowy bosoms, a few licks against the pert nipples, and lower… down … snaking over her torso to what he was truly after. “Breathe, baby,” Natsu teased at her halted, bated breathing. “Just look forward and watch.”

She sucked in a gulp of air and stared forward at the mirrored image of Natsu going down on her. It was strange to literally watch every move he made like a voyeur living through another’s body. Lucy’s fingers tightened their grip on his hair in anticipation as he spread her legs a little wider…

“Mmm,” he mused in thought on how to get the best angle. “Hold to me,” Natsu suggested, and before she could reply, lifted Lucy’s left leg, and rested it on his shoulder. “Perfect…”

Natsu dove right in, latching his mouth onto the moist folds he knew so well, humming at the quick squeak his girl couldn’t catch in time. But he knew from the pull on his scalp exactly what she was experiencing. He kept one hand on her raised hip, while the fingers of his other toyed around the edge of her wet opening. His tongue pressed and circled around her clit, sucking, palpating, interspersed with soothing flicks and long strokes to lap up the growing sap gathering in the area. He closed his eyes as he relished in the warmth oozing over his face from her beautiful sex.

Heaven help her, Lucy couldn’t stop staring at that mirror… her gripped fingers to his hair and nails digging into his shoulder for dear life from the seasoned oral ministrations that slowly undid her sanity. Just his tongue alone… but the teasing fingers… Oh! Oh— Her thighs clenched to the sides of Natsu’s head as she felt one, then two fingers slipped through her walls. Lucy’s body arched slightly, and head tilted back as those fingers began swiftly pumping.

“Natsu…” Lucy moaned softly through sealed lips. She could feel his grin against her flesh, hear the squishing sounds, and smell the light scent of her extreme arousal. Damn him…

In a race against time, Natsu pumped fast and hard while his mouth and tongue devoured Lucy’s sex and sanity with an intensity to rival any known battle for supremacy. Each passing second, drawing the heated coil at her core closer to snapping. Her legs trembled, yet clenched and stiffened as his fingers pummeled, bumping the swollen sex being driven to his knuckles reach. He could feel Lucy start unraveling and held firmly to her hip bone as the jerky spasms rocked her body in orgasmic euphoria.

“Stop, stop, stop—” Lucy clawed at his back and neck as she whimpered from the immense pressure boiling in her body, and radiant moisture pooled in her eyes. “Please… enough, Natsu my legs are gonna give out.”

After giving her pussy a few more licks to clean up the excess juices, Natsu finally obliged and put down Lucy’s leg, then stood up while still supporting her as she caught her breath. He licked around his lips and cleaned off his fingers. “Best lunch in the world,” he grinned.

“Oof!” Lucy playfully slapped his chest with a short laugh. “Not what I’d meant. And now I don’t have time to try on the rest.”

“Why not?”

Lucy started putting on her regular clothes. “We’ve been in here for too long, it’ll be suspicious.”

“Tch, then just buy all of it if you like them, cause I’m telling you they’ll all look great on you.”

She glared at him. “Fine, but after pulling that stunt, now you owe me lunch!”

Natsu shrugged and grabbed all the hangers of clothing. “Okay, since you’ll need your strength later.”

“Later?”

The widest seedy grin bloomed on Natsu’s face. “You’ll see…”

[bucksfucks]

           amorosa // steve rogers

         chapter two: seal the deal

    chapter one // chapter two // chapter three

                    chapter four // chapter five

              ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

                             main masterlist

summary || after setting up a date with steve you fight back the urge to bail on account of your nerves. an agreement is reached and despite all odds, steve makes you feel relaxed and calm before you’re welcoming him back to your apartment after the night is almost over.

pairing || sugar daddy!steve x reader

word count || 3,111 words

warnings || financial struggles, sugar daddy dynamics, undefined age gap, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, heavy daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, dirty talk — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

     You didn't know what to expect. You had never done something like this before. 

     As you rummaged through your closet, groaning at the struggle of finding something decent for tonight. You didn't own anything that would match what Steve was wearing, you barely had time to go out as it is.

    Not to mention your financial situation didn't exactly let you splurge on the finer things in life, your phone screen had been cracked for over half a year. You'd been meaning to get it fixed, but you could never justify dropping more than a hundred dollars on something that still technically worked. 

    Your mind flashed back to when Steve dropped the hundred on the bar like it was nothing. Suddenly you felt self-conscious, knowing you weren't nearly good enough to be going out with a man like Steve Rogers, Vice President of Stark Industries. 

    Professional or not, people would be talking and giving you odd glances. 

    You settled on a comfortable, sleek pair of straight cut pants and a simple blouse. Steve had decided on a steakhouse, a steakhouse of all places for a single drink as he put it last night. Another groan as you slipped on the uncomfortable and only pair of heels you owned. 

    A simple black open-toed shoe matched your outfit enough before you grabbed your purse, slinging it over your shoulder. 

    The Uber would be here soon enough and while spending thirty dollars on a car ride to a place you'd have to try not to stick out like a sore thumb, the subway in heels just wasn't an option. 

    The entire ride there your leg couldn't stop bouncing, no matter how much you willed yourself to calm down, nothing seemed to help as you left the modest looking part of the city only to enter into an entirely different world. 

    Luxury brand stores lined the streets, expensive cars parked at their side as your stomach flipped at some of the sights. 

    You didn't fit in here, you were sure your driver was just as confused as you as they kept driving deeper into the city. 

    "Have a good night," he bid you as you thanked him, shutting the car door and letting the late summer breeze billow around you as you looked up at the restaurant in front of you. 

    Bluefin read in a fluorescent blue light as you shook your head, laughing at the ridiculous situation you were in. You pulled at the door, it was heavy and tall before a hostess prompted you. 

    "Do you have a reservation with us, miss?" She asked, eying you up and down as if she knew that you were a fraud, like you didn't belong; and she wasn't wrong. 

    "I uh, have one with Mr. Rogers." You stumbled over your words trying to sound as confident as possible. She nodded her head politely, asking you to follow her before she swiftly turned to lead you through the maze of tables. 

    You took in your surroundings, the dozens of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling to the gold plated booths and shimmering table legs. It was safe to say that this place was way out of your comfort zone. 

    "Mr. Rogers, your guest for the evening," she spoke sweetly, throwing you a small smile as Steve got up to greet you. He placed a kiss on each of your cheeks, the action causing your body to flush as his beard grazed your skin. 

    He smelled exactly like he did last night, though this time it wasn't as subtle. He smelled fresh and clean and you could get lost in those same dashing blue eyes again.

    "I'm glad to see you again." Steve smiles, helping you into the booth before sliding in beside you. It was a very intimate space, his shoulder pressed against your as you placed your purse beside you. 

    Two menus were already placed in front of you, two glasses of water alongside a pitcher in the middle as you fiddled with your thumbs in your lap. Could he tell how nervous you were? 

    "It's nice to see you too," you managed to finally spit out as Steve smiled sweetly, he turned his body slightly so he was facing you, "this place has great seafood, I really recommend the crab cakes." 

    Your eyes lit up at the word food, you had been so nervous that it had barely crossed your mind. A waiter soon approached the table, "can I get you guys anything to drink?" 

    You felt like it should be you serving Steve, instead you just shook your head, "I'm okay with just water." You answered truthfully before Steve smirked. 

    "We'll take a bottle of champagne for the table, preferably rosé from 2012." It sounded like he was speaking an entirely different language. To you, wine was wine, if it got you drunk, it was good. 

    The waiter nodded his head, turning around to leave you both alone. You took a sip of your water when you noticed just how dry your throat was. Steve opened his menu and you followed suit before your eyes ran down the various dishes. 

     Everything sounded good and you heard your stomach grumble at the thought of the crab cakes and maybe even the butternut squash ravioli. Then your eyes ran to the prices, your heart palpated at the thought of them. 

    "Dinner's on me tonight, get whatever you'd like." It's like Steve had heard your internal monologue and decided to put an end to it. You were thankful for that, a wave of relief washing over you as his soft features made you feel safe. 

    "Thank you, really. I don't think I've ever eaten anywhere nearly this fancy," you joked, hoping the humour would absolve you of your awkwardness. Steve chuckled, low and deep as the waiter came with the champagne. 

    It was popped then poured into the flutes and placed in ice before Steve picked his up. 

    "To new beginnings," he spoke. You picked up yours, "to new beginnings," you repeated his words, gently clinking the two glasses together before taking a sip. 

    You had never been a fan of champagne, but this one wasn't too dry nor was it too sweet. It was light and fruity and soon enough you knew it would be enough to quell the nerves. 

    When the food arrived at the table, the conversation seemed to flow much more naturally. Steve didn't say much, asking a question and letting you answer as he got to know you. You found yourself sneaking subtle glances in his direction, admiring his side profile or just how close he was to you. 

    As the bottle of champagne was nearly empty, you felt much lighter as giggles fell past your lips. You had leaned into Steve a little more as the night progressed, his large hand falling to your thigh. 

    "So," the faint echo of your giggle was still heard as Steve's expression turned to a much more serious one. "I think we should discuss our… business opportunity." And just like that, you had sobered up. 

    You nodded your head as Steve cleared his throat. 

    "I'd like for you to join me for things like these. Dinner, company events, fundraisers, yearly ski trips to the alps, you know, the boring stuff." You nearly guffawed at his words. The boring stuff? A trip to the alps? Boring? You could barely believe it. 

    Still, you nodded your head, a silent sign for him to continue. 

    "In return, I'll take care of all your bills and expenses. You'll have plenty of petty cash, we'll call it," he smirked. "All I ask is for your company." He concludes and you swallow, taking it all in. 

    "When you say company, do you mean… " You trailed off, not sure how to delicately ask him if he wanted to fuck you or not. 

    Steve leaned in, his face inches from yours as he squeezed your thigh, "that's exactly what I mean, Princess." 

    The pet-name caused your stomach to somersault as your breath got hitched in your throat. You're not sure if it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or if this was just the effect he had on people. 

    Probably a mix of both. 

    Whatever it was, it caused you to wring your hands in his collar as you crashed your lips onto his. He didn't hesitate, not even for a second as his hands went to cup your face. The kiss left you breathless, spinning, and feeling like you were floating. 

    "Is that a yes?" He asks cheekily and you can't find the words, all you can do is nod your head before Steve is forced to drop your face as the waiter brings him the check. 

    You readjust yourself in your seat, one leg on top of the other as you close your eyes to steady your breathing. 

    Steve grabbed his leather wallet, pulling out a flashy black credit card and handing it to the poor man doing his job without any regard. You bit your lip at the interaction, someone with his money and power, it made the throbbing between your legs only worse. 

    "Let me drive you home." Steve whispered meeting your eyes as you nodded, "oh it's okay, I can just take the train back." You said politely and while you didn't want to, you sure as hell couldn't afford another Uber trip. 

    It's not like you didn't want to take him up on his offer either, truthfully, you weren't sure how you were going to react all alone with Steve. 

    You don't fuck on the first date, but for Steve, hell you'd let him take you in the bathroom of this restaurant. God knows it's probably better maintained than your building. 

    "Please? I don't want you alone on the train at this hour, you'd have me worrying all night and I don't think you'd wanna upset me like that." There was a sultry undertone in his words as his lips twitched into a smirk. 

    You nodded your head, "yes, okay, thank you Steve." 

    When you stepped into the now cool late night summer air a shiver ran down your spine as the valet went to grab Steve's car. You stayed silent, kicking a pebble with your toe as you tried your best not to shiver. 

    You felt Steve drape his suit jacket over your shoulders, "chilly night, huh?" He joked, as you hugged it around yourself. This man was full of secrets, secrets you wanted to learn to lock away in your own mind. 

    "Here you are Mr. Rogers, have a great night." The valet said, acknowledging you both as he opened the passenger side door for you. You slipped into the warm car, an Audi, you recognized the four rings on the steering wheel as Steve got in. 

    The car was quiet, city nose becoming nonexistent as he put it in drive. 

    "Where am I going?" He asked, pulling out of the restaurant parking lot and into the bustling New York City streets. 

    "Queens," you said, admiring the lights outside of your window as Steve chuckled, "no way, I grew up in Brooklyn." Steve commented as you turned your head. 

    That surprised you. A guy like him? From Brooklyn? You guess you should've known by his subtle accent, but it made you smile as Steve continued his way to your apartment. 

    "Well, uh, thank you for dinner, Steve. Really, it was the best food of my life." You chuckled as he returned your smile. "It was my pleasure, you're good company." He joked, squeezing your thigh as a new wave of arousal running through you. 

    You both sat in somewhat awkward silence as you grabbed your keys from your bag, clutching them in your hand. 

    "Do you maybe wanna come up for a cup of coffee? Or tea? I don't really have much to offer." You chuckled, as he smiled, “that sounds lovely." 

    Steve followed you to the front of your building, the old, paint chipped door creaking open before you pressed the elevator button that only illuminated on good days. 

    Today was not that day. 

    You tapped your foot as you watched the numbers descent until the L appeared on the small screen, the bell dinging. You got into it silently, the only sound was your heels against the stained flooring and the electrical whirring of the elevator. 

    Steve kept a respectable distance, his shoulder brushing yours as the elevator car moved up to the eleventh floor. 

    You stuck your key into your lock, jamming it upwards as you fiddled to find the sweet spot before you managed to push the door open, "home sweet home." 

    The apartment was small, a little over five-hundred square feet, but it was more than enough for you. You decorated it with plants and art you'd find at your local markets. It felt cozy and like home, but you knew it was nothing compared to what Steve was used to. 

    You didn't bother turning on any of the main lights, a small light in the kitchen was all you needed as you were finally able to kick off your heels. You dropped to your true height, having to crane your neck upwards to meet Steve's eyes. 

    It was in this moment that you realized just how massive he was. Broad shoulders and long legs held him upright as his now darkened eyes looked you up and down. You had forgotten all about the coffee as you felt his gaze all over you. 

    "You look stunning," he whispered, stepping closer to you. "Words just don’t do justice." He added, snaking an arm around your waist. 

    "Let me show you just how beautiful you are to me." He breathed, mouth close to your ear as you gasped, nodding your head. 

    "Oh, Steve, please." You whimpered, your hands going to rest on his shoulders as he pulled you flush against his body. You could feel him hardening through his dress pants, pressed tightly against your hip. 

    "Call me Daddy tonight, Princess." Steve purred as your stomach flipped before his lips were back on yours. He tasted like the remnants of the champagne as his tongue explored your mouth. 

    "Daddy," you gasped, his lips working his way down your neck as he pushed you further into your apartment. You yelped when he tossed you onto the bed, the moonlight streaming through your curtains and onto the sheets. 

    "That's my good girl, you're bein' so good for Daddy." His praise sends goosebumps over your skin as his fingers begin working on your blouse. You can sense the urgency in his actions, both of your hands having one goal in mind; remove any and all clothing. 

    You barely have any time to stop and admire Steve's build. He's toned, lean and fit and you already love the faint chest hair as he works on your bra. It's discarded soon after, your panties being yanked off before Steve's standing naked in front of you. 

    "Fuck," it's a breath that falls from Steve's lips as he's right back on top of you. His nose traces down your chest, his mouth paying equal attention to both of your nipples before his mouth is floating above where you need him most. 

    Neatly decorated hair covers your mound as Steve places your legs over his large shoulders, spreading you open in front of him as he lets out a low groan. 

    "Princess, you're so wet. Is this all for me? Is this why you've been so squirmy during dinner?" He smirks, his question rhetorical as he uses his fingers to spread your lips open. 

    Your hips are bucking, fists around your sheets as you whine. Steve's tongue is wide and warm against you when it finally connects with you. A lewd moan slips past your lips when he swirls it tightly around your clit. 

    The attention to detail is mind blowing, his fingers slowly slipping inside of you as he works you open. There's nowhere in the world you'd rather be than right here with Steve's face buried between your thighs. 

    "You taste so sweet, Princess." He hums, moaning around you as your fingers tangle in his once neatly styled hair. You tug on the locks, a low groan in response that spreads warmth through your body. 

    "Daddy, pl-please, wanna cum." You're lost in the sensation of his fingers scissoring you open, his tongue flicking tight figure-eights over your clit. 

    "Cum for Daddy, Princess, cum all over my face." He growls, curling his fingers deep inside of you, breaking the coil as your back arches off the bed. 

    You feel like you've just ran a marathon, lungs aching for oxygen, and he hadn't even gotten his cock yet. 

    "Hands and knees, Princess. Show Daddy your ass," he growls, flipping you over as you prop yourself up on shaky knees. You're mewling, wanton and burning to feel how his cock will fill you up. 

    The bed shifts under Steve’s weight as his fingers dig lightly into the flesh of your waist, positioning your hips as his cock nudges your entrance. 

    “You think you’re ready for my cock, Princess?” He taunts as you wiggle your hips against him as he chuckles deeply from within his chest before slowly sinking into you. 

    You both moan at the sensation, your warm walls gripping around him as he stretches you out. 

    “Takin’ Daddy’s cock so well Princess—fuck, feels so good.” Steve grunts, his hips snapping against yours with a force that has you falling face first into the pillows. 

    His one hand goes to rest between your shoulder blades, keeping you planted firmly against the bed as he fucks you deep into your worn out mattress. 

    Your moans are muffled, you're thankful for the position considering your walls are paper thin and you'd rather not have your eighty-five year old neighbour Darleen hear about the mind-blowing sex you were currently engaged in. 

    "You gonna cum for Daddy again? Make a mess over his cock, hmm?" He whispers in your ear, voice hoarse and gravelly as your toes curl and you're cumming again for him. 

    Steve pulls out, fisting his cock in his hands before you're feeling his hot cum painting your back as you're reeling at the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

    You're pulled out of your post-orgasmic bliss when you feel Steve cleaning you up with what? You don't care, you'd do laundry tomorrow, throw it away, all you wanted was to feel Steve's arms around you. 

    He falls back into bed with you, his gentle eyes meeting yours as he chuckles, "if that doesn't seal the deal, I don't know what will."

tagging // @jennmurawski13 | @nakedrogers

any and all feedback is always appreciated! <3

[lubdubsworld]

City Lights . ( Namjoon x OC)

Pairing : OC x Kim Namjoon.

Genre : Angst. Romance.

Rating 18 + 

Word Count : 2900

Warnings :  Mature Themes , Explicit Sexual Content . Slow burn. Like slower than a snail.

Summary :

Widowed and destitute, Son Yang Mi leaves the comfort of her small , secluded  fishing village and travels to the intimidating city of Seoul with her young son. She has a plan, one that involves finding a job, getting her son into a good school and building a life for herself.

Now, three years later she has a job , working as a live in house keeper for the Kim family, specifically for the son,  Kim Namjoon, a famous rapper and producer. 

Its a job that puts a roof over her head and she’ll do anything to keep it. 

But fate has other plans.

Chapter 1 ~

Akogare (ah-koh-ga-reh)Often translated directly as a sort of frustrated “yearning”, “desire”, or “longing” .

Seoul in summer was a sight to behold. I blinked back against the bright sunlight, staring out into the stunning skyline of the city as the sun rose over it , and although it was just a little past seven in the morning, the air was warm and invigorating. The mid July sun shone down with no mercy, and there was no trace of the rain that had lashed city just the previous night.

It had been three whole years but the relief that came from breathing fresh air, untainted by the damp musk of fishing trowels and sweaty men, was still unrivalled.

I shook off the feather duster in my hand, moving to carefully clean the wicker woven chairs on the artificial lawn in the balcony. Dusting the entire condo down was a mind numbing exercise in patience, so i tried to get it out of the way, early in the morning when my son was still asleep.

At six years old, Junsu was a bright , happy child. Summer vacation meant days sleeping in and evenings spent frolicking with the other kids in the building and he was content with being alone in our small shared room, reading or playing with his toys while I went about the day’s work.

I glanced at the clock, grimacing.

It was almost eight . And although Mr. Kim wasn’t due back home for another twelve hours, I felt a little jittery and nervous.

Kim Namjoon , renowned rapper, producer, writer , poet and what not. The apartment was his but he was usually on tour, traveling all over the world to promote his book and to perform in sold out stadiums. For an A list celebrity, he was surprisingly humble.

For the past three years, him and his model fiancée  Lee Mina had spent a total of maybe seven months in the condo. They were a sweet couple, or so I’d always thought , a bit formal with each other but clearly in love . Mr. Kim was a kind, soft spoken young man and I’d never heard him raise his voice unless he was in the company of his very dear friends.

Just a little over a week ago , both of them  had left Korea for the States , the tabloids screaming about a luxurious destination wedding in the Caribbean and I had been asked to take a few weeks off . The newly weds wouldn’t be back for quite a while and they would let me know when I had to come back to the condo.

I’d been toying with the idea of visiting my in laws in Gwangyog, maybe even dropping by to see some old friends there but yesterday , Mr. Kim’s mother had given me a call letting me know her son was coming home. 

[ 

The conversation went something like this :

Yang Mi, I hope you haven’t left yet?

No, Ma'am, I haven’t.

Joon-ah is going to be back tomorrow.

Oh, is Ms Lee arriving as well?

No, Just him He’s going to be alone.

Yes, Ma'am.

Please don’t mention anything about Mina or the wedding.

No ma'am of course not.

I’ll drop by later . Cook him something warm and filling. And make sure the house is cleaned well.

Yes, Ma’ am.

]

And that was that.

~~~~~~

It took the better part of the day to finish cleaning and setting up the house . I washed the window slats, changed the sheets, arranged the books that had been left scattered all over his bedroom. The walk-in closet was littered with a bunch of his clothes and I made sure his gym bag was stocked with fresh towels, spare clothes and his favorite head and wrist bands. 

For someone so careful and calculated, he was really quite a messy man. 

i did his laundry, making sure he had ample clothes at least for another two weeks, creasing the handkerchiefs and carefully removing lint from his jackets. 

I also carefully sorted out the feminine clothing from the laundry and from the cupboard, folding them neatly and placing them in the lowest shelf of the closet, where he wouldn’t find them. It wasn’t hard, hiding traces of his fiancee from the condo, because it had never really been her home. other than a few spare pieces of underwear and a couple of t shirts and skirts, there weren’t many articles of clothing belonging to Ms. Lee. 

But I still got rid of the bobby pins and hair ties, the spare lip gloss and mascara.

Junsu spent the entire day in our room, reading and drawing, only venturing out every few hours to grab a snack. I left him with his drawing tab ( a gift from Mr. Kim for his 5th birthday )  and his favorite book, asking the security guard at the end of the hallway to keep an eye on the door, while i went out to buy groceries.

Lots of meat, no sea food, healthy snacks and high protein fiber bars. I stocked up on sauces and bought a fresh batch of eggs, oranges and grapes . Mrs. Kim had sent a large amount of kimchi a few weeks ago and that was still in the pantry.

i stopped for a second, staring around at the almost deserted store. Most of the other housekeepers shopped at the bigger, more exclusive store on the other side of the residential complex. But Mr. Kim had a very selective palette, which meant that I had to be very particular about the brands i bought.

When i came back home at around six, Junsu was on the floor in the living space and i felt my heart jump in panic.

“Baby!! I’ve told you not to come out here when I’m not home!” I protested bleakly and he pouted.

“I need to show you my gift for Mr. Kim!!” He said softly. I smiled moving to put away the groceries and glancing at the clock. It was a little past six. I had to call Yungyu.

“Did you draw him something ? “ I asked curiously, checking to see if the beer shelf was stocked. probably should have done that before going out for the groceries, I thought regretfully.

“Yeah! Look!!” Junsu held his tab out and my heart dropped.

For a six year old, Junsu drew very well. And there was really no mistaking the very obvious wedding scene on the screen.

Oh, Good God.

“ That looks amazing honey.” I said gently. “ But, I heard that Ms Lee isn’t coming over this time..”

Junsu frowned.

“Why?”

“Well, I’m not sure. But remember how we spoke about saying the right things? When something upsets someone, we do not bring it up.” I reminded him gently. My son hesitated but nodded.

“Okay. I’m sorry. “ He said softly.

“No baby, its not your fault. It’s just that we want Mr. Kim to be happy right? We don’t wanna upset him...”

He smiled at that.

“When he’s happy, his dimples come out.” He said with a giggle. I laughed.

“yes they do... So let’s try and get those dimples out as often as we can alright? Why don’t you show him that picture you drew of yeontan the other day? He’ll really like that....”

“Okay...but i need to go color it!” Junsu yelled, already running back into our room. I watched him go before reaching for the phone and dialing, Yungyu, the chauffeur.

“Are you on the way here? ” i said briskly.

“Just starting from home...” Yungyu muttered, “ I’m supposed to be on vacation now! Why is he coming back so soon?” 

“Just hurry up !! We can’t keep him waiting!!” I said sharply, before hanging up. 

I made a quick check of all the rooms, filling up water bottles for his gym routine in the morning and stashing them in the fridge before moving to get dinner started. 

i set the water on boil for the stew, before moving to peel cucumbers for the salad. I chopped the cucumber , along with some fresh cherry tomatoes . I watched the water boil, thinly slicing an onion and adding it to the bowl as well. The dressing was pretty simple,  soy sauce, rice vinegar, honey and sesame oil . I sprinkled some sesame seeds on the bowl, used the salad tongs to give the whole thing a nice toss and set it aside. 

I braised the chicken first , peeling and chopping potatoes and carrots to add to the stew . In a few minutes, the rich smell of lightly spiced chicken and garlic and perilla  leaves began filling the kitchen and I turned on the rice cooker as well. 

The door bell rang at six forty and i opened the door to reveal Yungyu. 

I grabbed the keys to the Palisade, handing them over to him.

“Did you hear?” He whispered urgently.

I frowned.

“What?”

“They say Mr. Kim called off the wedding!” He whispered, wide eyed. 

I glared at him.

“Who told you that?” i demanded...

“Seojoon from the gate said-”

“Why don’t you ask Seojoon from the gate to mind his own damn business?” I snapped. 

Yungyu looked suitably chastised. i felt a little bad. Yungyu was still young and curiosity was hardly a sin. 

“His flight lands at eight exactly. Hurry okay?” I said with a smile, ruffling his hair.

He brightened, peering over my shoulder into the house.

“Where’s the little one?” He asked curiously.

“ Painting something for Mr. Kim... Go ahead, hurry up.” I shooed him away, locking the door behind him. I fixed a plate of food for Junsu and sent him to eat, before moving to check on the stew. +

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

By the time eight thirty rolled around I had the table set and ready. I washed my face quickly in the small bath attached to our room , making sure I was dressed well. Junsu wasn’t allowed in the main house unless Mr. Kim specifically asked for him and my son usually stayed in. 

Junsu and I stayed in a bedroom , not large by any means but big enough for a queen sized bed, a table and chair for Junsu and small dresser where I kept a comb and a tube of night cream. I stared at my face, licking my lips as I smoothed my hair out. 

I glanced at the bed. 

Junsu was asleep , having dozed off while coloring his picture and I carefully extracted the tab from under his fingers, moving him around to lay on the soft pillows. I tucked him in gently, brushing the hair off his face. 

“In peace , I will lie down to sleep, for You alone will let me rest in safety.” I whispered gently against his forehead, kissing the soft skin. I felt my lips wobble , a debilitating wave of affection flooding me as the sweet scent of my baby, filled my senses.

 I would die for you, I thought fiercely, kissing him again. 

The sound of the front door opening made me jump. 

Swearing, i smoothed the fabric of my skirt, running to the kitchen. 

“Thank you for picking me up Yungyu, I’m sorry you had to cut short on your vacation.” Mr. Kim’s deep voice filled the hallway and I quickly grabbed a glass, filling it with water and placing it on the dinner tray.

“Not a problem, Sir. “ Yungyu’s cheerful voice responded.

“How are you going home?” Mr. Kim asked. 

“I’ll take the bus.”

A pause and then, 

“Here’s some cash. Get a cab.” 

I could hear the relief in Yungyu’s voice as he let out a , “ Thank you sir.” 

I fixed his plate carefully, the bowl of rice, the bowl of chicken stew, and the salad neatly arranged next to the napkin and the chopsticks. I heard him move across the condo, the sound of his suitcases as he wrestled them towards his bedroom and I frowned. Yungyu should’ve have brought those in for him. 

I finished reheating all of the food and carefully carried the dinner tray to the bedroom. 

Mr. Kim’s bedroom was right at the end of the hallway and the door was open. The full length mirror on the opposite wall showed him sitting on the small couch in his room, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

I raised my hand, ready to knock on the wood. 

“Fuck!” He shouted, kicking out at the coffee table with enough force to send the furniture skidding half way across the room. 

I froze in the hallways stunned. 

“You’re such a fucking fool , Namjoon !!” He muttered angrily and I swallowed, turning on my heel and quickly walking back to the kitchen. 

Maybe I ought to wait till he asked for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn’t ask for dinner. 

I stayed sitting on the floor of the kitchen, waiting and lightly dozing as I heard him talk to his parents on the phone. I heard him open the liquor cabinet in his room, the sound of ice sloshing against glass, the sound of whiskey being poured carefully and i sighed. 

I had to get to bed. It was already a little past eleven. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime in the night, I woke up sweating.... 

Wondering what woke me up, I blinked groggily, glancing at Junsu. He was still sound asleep. 

Sighing, I climbed out of the bed, carefully making my way to Mr. Kim’s room, peering in carefully. 

He was asleep on the sofa.

I stared at the way his long legs stretched over the armrest, his lean hips twisted to accommodate his broad shoulders on the couch and I winced. He was definitely going to regret that in the morning. 

I stared at the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table and sighed, moving to take off his shoes carefully. He didn’t stir. 

I grabbed a pillow from the bed, carefully lifting his head and slipping it under. I placed a comforter over his shoulders, pulling it down to cover his legs. 

Force of habit almost made me brush his hair off his forehead but I stopped myself. 

The clock on the wall read three fifty am. God, I was going to feel terrible tomorrow. I carefully tip toed out, shutting the door behind me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I picked the comforter from the floor, carefully folding it and placing it on the bed, before grabbing the empty bottle of whiskey and glass . i could hear the shower running. The curtains were still drawn in and I tugged on the strings to get them to open. Sunlight spilled in through the floor length windows. The bed wasn’t slept in, so I opened the closet to grab a couple of towels, laying them on the bed for him. 

The bathroom door opened and i quickly straightened, wanting to race out of the room but it was too late. Thankfully he was dressed,  a pair of loose sweats and a loose t shirt . He was running a towel through his hair and his face brightened at the sight of me. 

“Yang Mi! You’re here....” He said cheerfully. 

“Good morning sir.” I said softly, offering him a small smile. 

He smiled brightly, hair damp and dimples deep. The white t shirt he had on was almost fully soaked through and he shook his head, sending stray water droplets all over the place, a few landing on my cheeks. 

“I didn’t see you last night...” He said casually, moving to drop the wet towel in the hamper, grabbing one of the fresh ones I’d laid on the bed. 

“I thought you would like your privacy sir, you looked exhausted.” 

He smiled.

“ Thank you for the blanket and the pillow by the way. And the shoes.” 

I bowed quickly.

“I’ll get your breakfast done, sir.” I bowed again before quickly getting out. 

I moved to the kitchen grabbing the oranges I’d got the previous day . Mr. Kim wasn’t fond of traditional korean dishes in the morning. He preferred freshly squeezed juice and toast, sometimes with an omelet perhaps. 

I fixed his breakfast quickly, setting it all in the tray . He was still moving around in the bedroom and I heard him drag his worktable to the windows, which meant he was going to stay in the bedroom. 

Pouring his coffee into a cup, I carefully picked up the breakfast tray , moving to his room slowly. 

I used my foot to knock on the door.

After a pause of a few seconds, 

“Come in Yang Mi!”

I carefully moved to the small table in front of the couch, placing the tray right in front of him. The scent of his body wash, green apple and strawberries, hit me hard. 

“Where’s Junsu?” He asked casually.

“Still asleep sir. It’s Summer so school’s out.” I smiled, grabbing his phone from the table to make space for his tray. 

The phone buzzed just as I was about to place it back down and I blinked.

 Mina calling.......

 I swallowed, not sure what to do, placing the phone down quickly.

“Uh..you have ...” I waved vaguely at the device before bowing again and moving back. 

“close the door on your way out, Yang Mi...” He said gently and I quickly obeyed. 

I moved to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee for myself. I stayed leaning over the counter and even through the locked door, I could hear him . 

“Just don’t call me Mina...i don’t want to talk about this!!!” 

I swallowed, glancing out of the window again. It was a bright, clear morning. 

A second later, the door to his bedroom slammed open and he stormed out. I watched him from my spot in the kitchen, his fists clenched as he rushed out to the front door.

The door shut behind him and I exhaled. 

Once I as done with my coffee, I moved to his room to clear the breakfast tray. His phone was still on the table.

It began ringing again just as I left the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mrs. Kim.” i said respectfully, bowing . She gave me a short smile.

“Where’s Namjoon? I’ve been calling him for the past hour.” She pushed past me into the house and I bit my lips.

“He went out about an hour ago. He left his phone behind.” I explained.

She stopped, sighing. 

“Fine, I’ll wait for him. “ She moved to sit on the couch, glancing around the room. 

“Should I get you something ma'am?” I asked softly and she smiled.

“Get me a glass of lemonade, Yangmi.” She said brusquely and i nodded, running to the kitchen. 

“Did Mina come over?” She called out as I got the lemons out of the cooler.

“No ma'am.” i replied.

“Did she call?” 

  I remembered the phone ringing, how upset it had made Namjoon, how he had stormed out.

“I don’t know ma'am!” I said softly. 

She nodded.

“Okay. You can leave.” She said quietly. i bowed and went back into the kitchen. 

I peered out of the window as I fixed her a glass , and my eyes fell on a familiar figure, coming back in through the front gate. Even from this distance there was no mistaking the long legs and messy blonde hair. 

I bit my lips, mind racing.

 Mrs Kim and her son had a volatile relationship, to say the least. 

And something told me that Mr. Kim was probably not in the right frame of mind to argue with his mother, now. The man was upset but apparently, neither his mother nor his ex fiancée understood that. instead of giving him space they were hounding him. 

I hesitated for a second  before making a quick decision. 

I grabbed the tray with her lemonade and moved to her quickly.

“Thank you.” She said sharply. “ Turn on the Air Conditioner for me, will you?” 

I fumbled with the remote, grabbing his phone from the table , turning it on before moving to the front door and rushing out. 

I almost ran into him as he came out of the elevator , and i jerked back stumbling a bit to stop myself from crashing into his chest. He let out a , ‘ Whoa, “  his hands reaching out to grip my elbows. 

“Careful. What’s wrong?” He asked gently and I swallowed.

“Your mother’s here.” I said quickly, “ Sir.” 

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned. I swallowed.

“You can leave.” I blurted out. “It’s Tuesday. She has her charity work meeting at ten. Its almost nine. She won’t stay long....” 

His eyes met mine, lips parting in surprise. 

“I really can’t meet her now.” He said apologetically.

I nodded.

“Of course, I understand , sir. Just be back in an hour , she’ll be go-”

The elevator buzzed , the doors nearly closing over my shoulders and I flinched. He swore and stuck his arm out to keep it open. 

I stared at him before holding his phone out.

“Here you go sir. “ 

He chuckled taking it from me and shaking his head.

“i feel like a kid, sneaking away from my mom.” His eyes reached mine, twinkling, “ Who would’ve thought the quiet, timid Yang Mi would be my partner in crime. “ 

I didn’t reply, just smiled. 

And then he hesitated. “ Is Junsu awake?”

I blinked.

“Uh...yes sir,...he’s playing in the park downstairs with the other kids.”

“Great... Would you mind if i take him out for ice cream?”

I stared at him. 

“Oh..uh...of course not. Sure.. I mean.. he’ll love that... Sir. Thank you.. You don’t have to -”

“Consider it thank you for helping me with my mother.” He smiled again and i found myself staring at his dimples again. i swallowed. 

“in that case, he loves butter scotch.” I smiled. 

The dimples appeared and i bit my lips. 

“Thank you Yang Mi.” He said slowly. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Finally a hyungline fic !!! ugh... I’ve been wanting to write a Namjoon fic for ages and I really hope you guys will like this one :’( Feedback is much appreciated. 

[cherripeach]

Chapter 14

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is “I have the power of god and anime on my side, don’t mess with me,” and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it. Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Chapter 1:11-12 good credit, bad credit, you dead: ghost credit

Running to the store on campus, so cute.

Warnings: Curse words, implied violence

Words: 3.1k

Relationships: developing but future twstxreader

Ace groaned while face planting on the counter, “We finally finished peeling them all!”

Deuce moaned in pain, “My arms hurt…” He, then, stretched his arms and popped some of his knuckles while rolling his neck. 

You agreed with the two boys, “Yeah, I don’t wanna move for the next decade.” You made your seat on one of the stools next to the counter to take a break after standing for what felt like hours. 

Trey chuckled at your reactions, “Great work. I’m sure that your hard work will all be worth it.” While you three were sulking, Trey began cleaning up as much as possible by putting things away and putting things in the dishwasher. 

Grim grumbled, “I’m getting hungry just by the smell, yanno.” The cat had tried to take as much of the ingredients as possible while you were preparing, but barely managed to get any.

Trey took a sheet of paper out from a binder and sorted some of the ingredients next to some cooking utensils, “The marron base uses butter and sugar. And then, I also added some oyster sauce as a secret ingredient.”

Ace and Deuce jumped up from their positions of dread in shock, “Oyster sauce?!”

Trey placed the sheet down and grabbed a bottle of the sauce,  “Exactly. The savory flavor of the chestnuts gives the cream a rich flavor. And then, to make it better, I use this,” He motioned to the sauce in his hand,  “‘Walrus-brand young oyster sauce’.  There’s no famous pâtissière who doesn’t use this for their tarts, you know?” He ended it all with a closed eyed smile. 

Deuce mumbled, “Really…? It’s a pretty salty sauce, isn’t it?”

“You know how they put chocolate in curry, too?” Ace gave an example,  “It kinda makes sense…”

You were,  on the other hand, not having it, “Naw, dude. It doesn't; sweet can't just nullify salt or reverse. It’s practically impossible.” You shook your head while the two idiots were just pouting in their confusion. 

Trey chuckled while clutching his stomach, “You're right! I was just joking! There’s no way I’d put oyster sauce in a dessert, you know? How’d you know?”

The two idiots never would have guessed that. 

Ace’s hand’s shot up in his defense, pointing at his senior, “What the heck!? Are you making fun of us!?”

“It’s obviously impossible if you think about it a little.” Trey’s lighthearted giggle switched to a more wise old lecture, “The moral lesson here is that you shouldn’t believe anything you’re told. Learn to doubt a bit, okay?”

You nodded your head, “See, Ace. I don’t gotta learn that because I knew right away.” 

You were a genius. In all eyes besides Ace’s, that is. 

Ace snorted, “I bet it was a lucky guess.”

You fought back, “Pshhhh. No way.” You knew this was just the start of one of your many squabbles. 

Grim whispered to you behind his hand, “This guy looks nice, but he’s the type who can tell lies with no problem, huh…”  

“I guess so.” Your eyes widened at Grim’s statement. 

Trey rallied you all together to begin the next step, “Next is the fresh cream!”

A shrill scream ran through the air.

Ace bounced up and questioned Trey, “What’s wrong?”

You joined Ace with your question, “Are you okay?”

“I got carried away with the chestnuts you picked that I went overboard with making the marron base.” Trey laughed at himself and rubbed the back of his head, “We’re a little short on fresh cream.”

Deuce offered, “I’ll go buy some. Do they sell it in the school store?”

Trey explained,  “That shop sells pretty much anything, so I’m sure it should be there. Can I ask you to buy some other stuff while you’re at it? Two packs of milk, two cartons of eggs, silicon cups, and five canned fruits…” He writes down the list of items and hands them to Deuce. 

Deuce reads the list before commenting, “I don’t think I can carry all of that alone…” 

This was your chance, “I’ll come! I need to see if they have uniforms there, anyway.” Maybe you could find some uniforms or even some other clothes for a nice price as if you had any money. 

Grim interjected,  “I’m going, too! I don’t wanna mix more dough!” He raised his little paw as far as his body would allow it. 

“Understandable.”  You did not need to lose your arms over baking. 

The three of you began your walk to the grocery store on campus with only some light chatter about how excited you all were to taste the finished product and how Grim shouldn’t steal it all. 

The grocery store was the size of a drug store, but apparently from what Trey said it had everything anyone at this school needed. It’s gotta be a magic store.  

“We sure this is it?” You questioned Deuce because he was sure to know more than you, right?

Deuce pointed out, “I haven’t heard of any other shops here.” 

Grim quickly agreed, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s get a move on!”

While still warry, you approached the place behind the two overexcited shoppers, both who had stars in their eyes as someone from a novel would say. 

Deuce gazed around the place with wide eyes after opening the door where a little bell rang, “Pardon us! Whoa, what an amazing shop… Crystal skulls, magical texts, and… wh-what sort of animal is this…?” Deuce motioned to an animal’s skeleton that was just laying out on one of the shelves. Grim and Deuce took two steps closer to inspect the animal while you took two steps back. 

Grim, who began to travel by himself around the store, questioned Deuce and you, “Can we really find some fresh cream here?”

“I’d be surprised if we couldn't find it.” You opened a box that was filled with dusty books while nodding to Grim. 

Out of nowhere came a voice near the counter,  “Hey! Little lost lambs, what can I help you with? Welcome to Mr. S’s Mystery Shop.” The man had one of the oddest outfits with a bright pink shirt but then a black and dark purple jacket. His fashion sense was certainly new, but his vibe was what shocked you the most. Almost like he knew too much. What is it that you wish for today? A charm against cheating?” He pulled out a slip of paper from his chest pocket, “ An ancient king’s mirror?” a small mirror from his sleeve,  “Or maybe, some cursed tarot cards?” He even pulled a box out of thin air. 

Grim was frozen in shock for a moment and joined the conversation with a breath, “Ah, you startled me!”

You added on, “He reminds me of those characters from video games and movies that are just normal store owners or vendors that have some of the oddest items.” Looking at his shop, you believed yourself for a moment. 

The three of you made your way to the little counter at the back of the store. 

Deuce took out the list from his pocket and handed it to the man, “Um… We would like to buy the things written on this note.”

Grim used his arms to pull his face onto the counter as to be seen and begged,  “And I also want some canned tuna!”

“With what money?” You waved at him in disbelief,  “And I have a question for you, Mystery man.”

Deuce pushed Grim off of the counter,  “No! We will not buy any canned tuna!” which only caused Grim to growl at Deuce. 

The male scanned the note while tapping his finger in his chin,  “Mhmm. What do we have here? Fresh cream and eggs… Oh, my! What a pretty sweet line-up” He gave Deuce a thumbs up, “OK! I shall bring them out now. And I’ll get back to you in just a minute.” The male nodded at you with a small wink at the end of his sentence. 

Totally an odd vibe.

Deuce gasped in disbelief letting go of Grim’s fur,  “Whoa… Will he really have some here?”

You voiced your thoughts, “Maybe the back is just really big?”

The man returned with five bags full of items on your list, “Here, thank you for the wait. It is rather heavy, so are you sure you can carry them all?” The male, then gestured to a sign right next to the cash register about a special bag to carry all the items, “If you act now, I can throw in a special bag to carry all of those things for 30% off of its original price!” Deuce took out the money Trey gave him and handed it to the shopkeeper. 

Grim blurted out, “What did you say? Hey, that sounds interesting!” The cat grabbed your clothes as he normally does pointing at the sign to get your attention focused on it. 

Deuce shook his head while grabbing three of the five bags, “We. We will have to decline! Let’s go, Grim!”

“But why?! I wanna play more!” A pointing Grim was not resulting in a good day for anyone, but at this rate you couldn’t spend money on any food. 

“About that question,” You brought it up to the shopkeeper. 

The off-vibe man nodded,  “Ok, what's the problem, little lost lamb?”

You asked, “Do you sell uniforms or at least know where I can find one?”

“I should have some, but they're all used ones. I’ll even cut the price because of how damaged they are.” He then told you the price which was great for uniforms but as someone who owned no cash, not the best.

You thanked the male as you picked up the last two bags while the other two began to walk out, “Thanks! I’m gonna come back once I have the money, but please save them for me.” 

“Ok! of course, little lost lamb. I’ll have them in stock just for you.” He winked at you again, and at this point and time you’re just gonna assume it’s normal for him. 

“Thank you so much!!” You responded while finally walking out of the shop. 

Once outside, Deuce began a new conversation, “That was a very amazing shop, in a way…”

Grim was still pouting at the two of you for not giving him free food, “Boo, you two are so stingy.” His arms were snuggly crossed over one another and even his ears were flattened against his head. 

Deuce swung around to ask Grim, “Who are you calling stingy?!” This, however, almost resulted with Grim getting a concussion because of how the bag of canned fruits and heavy cream knocked Grim to the ground. 

Deuce quickly apologized, “Sorry!”

You placed your bag to check on Grim by feeling on his head for any bumps or any scrapes from the bag,  “Well, no one would give a brat what they want now would they? I know you want some tuna, but money is tight right now and I can’t get you any for a while. Once I save up enough, I promise I’ll get you some.” You brushed back his hair before flicking at his forehead, “Just remember to keep that ego in check. Soon, who knows, maybe I can even buy a hairbrush and maybe even a phone.”

 Deuce coughed before fixing the bags in his hold to reach his hand out to you, “The bag with the milks is heavy, isn’t it? I’ll hold it for you. I’m experienced with carrying heavy loads.”

You shook your head, “No way, lover boy, I can handle myself just so you know. And besides that's an odd area of expertise. Any reason why?” You kept walking to distract the male from taking your bag.

Deuce flushed red before starting his explanation, “Yeah, Mother always takes me with her during timed sales. She buys a lot, so I end up helping her with the bags. I’m the only man in the family, so I’m used to helping a lot with hard labor. Ah, I’m sorry… I keep talking about myself.” His face flushed even darker. 

You rolled your eyes, “That is incredibly sweet of you, Deuce. Don’t be scared to talk to me about anything. We’re friends. You must care for your mother a lot with how you talk about her.”

Deuce stuttered, “No… That’s not true at all. I… Mother was…” Deuce flies back onto the ground after connecting with someone’s chest, “Ouch!”

All of the materials that Deuce was holding fell to the ground, but the biggest problem was that the eggs were now completely broken and leaking everywhere on the sidewalk. 

Grim gasped and fell to his knees to try and save the groceries, “Ah, the eggs!!”

“Hey, you ok?” You reached out your hand to Deuce who grabbed it so that you could pull him up onto both of his feet. 

Deuce locked eyes on the bag of now broken eggs and cursed, “Damn it!” He picked up the bag of eggs and began to check to see if any of the eggs were not broken and could be used, “All the eggs in the carton broke! The plastic bag’s now reeking with eggs…!” Deuce tossed them in the trash while Grim squirmed to grab the bag from him. 

A white haired familiar looking male scoffed at the three of you, “That hurt! Where the hell’re ya lookin’ at,” His eyes darted to each member of your little group before continuing, “Wha? You’re the guys who ruined my carbonara’s soft-boiled egg during lunch today!” 

Another familiar red haired student was right on his side, “Damn, it’s you guys again. Ya better give us a break.” 

You grabbed as many bags as you could carry that Deuce had before, and you snorted, “And I thought I already crushed your egos, but I should have known you can't break a brick for a brain.”

The white haired boy snickered at the three of you, “Well it seems the little supervisor can’t even get us in trouble so no need for fear. You can’t harm us.” 

Deuce had been standing in place for the last couple of seconds with his eyes on his feet, “…Aren’t you the ones at fault for bumping into me?” His sharp gaze met that of the duo of delinquents, “Even during lunch. The egg wasn’t really that badly harmed, but you made a huge scene out of it. Our carton of eggs is totally ruined, though.” Deuce rolled up the sleeves to his jacket. 

Grim agreed standing as tall as he could across from the two upperclassmen, “He’s totally right!”

You walked over to where Deuce and Grim had made their little fighting stance, “Let’s just leave. They’re not gonna listen and we shouldn't get into a fight with idiots.” To further get Deuce’s attention, you pulled into the shoulder of his jacket to motion toward the bags, “We can always replace them. Let’s just get what we have back.”

The white haired boy swore, “The hell? You sayin’ it’s my fault, then? And idiots? I’m much smarter than any of you. Respect your elders!”

Deuce paid no mind to you or your constant poking on his shoulder, “Yes, please pay us back for the eggs. And also, please apologize to the chickens.”

“Hah?” The red haired boy quipped at Deuce, “Makin’ a ruckus over eggs, are we?”

Deuce grunts, “Hah?” before turning to you, “Remember the promise right?”

You nodded at him. 

“Then, back up.” He lightly pushed you to make you back up, “And don’t get involved.”  You locked eyes with the male only to see his eyebrows furrowed and a large scowl on your face. And as much as you wanted to help him and get him out of this situation, there’s nothing you can do against magic users. At least not yet.

The two other students did not realize how ready Deuce was to make this physical or how personal this was. 

The whit haired boy groaned, “It didn’t hit the ground so you can still eat it. Stop makin’ a fuss over little things.” The boy slapped his friend before whispering something to him. 

The other boy snickered before adding, “Ya better be thankful they broke inside the plastic bag!” 

“Not only are they dumb, but blind too,” You mumbled to yourself which Grim could hear from his small chortle. 

Deuce still had not lost his eye contact with the other two boys, seemingly eyeing them down to wait for the perfect moment. 

Both of the boys let out the largest giggles possible that a teenage boy could without sounding like girls gossiping with their heads thrown back and their hands clutching their stomachs. 

“Laughing at something that is surely your fault.” You rolled your eyes while trying to get the boy’s attention on Deuce who was in your eyes about to murder a bitch, “I think you should just pay us back for it. Maybe some extra too for having to deal with your terrible attitude to even it out.” 

Neither student responded to you only grunting out stiffles of laughter for the next couple of seconds. 

Deuce muttered to himself breaking eye contact with the two to gaze down at his hand which was clenched like in one of those TV shows when a character is going to do something he regrets, “... Mess with me, will you…”

White haired kid raises his eyebrows in confusion as Deuce looks to be slowly going insane,  “Huh?”

Deuce exploded at the two, “I told you to stop laughing, damn it!!” His feet began to move closer and closer to the two who just stood in horror for the boy who was once silent, “You ain’t got no choice but to apologize for something that’s your fault! These eggs will be used to make a delicious tart in place of turning into chicks, bastard!! Do you understand me, huh!?”

“Wh-what’s with him all of a sudden…?!” The red haired boy was backing away from the approaching student and had a look of disbelief on his face. 

Deuce grabbed his fist in one hand and cracked the knuckles of the other one, “If you’re not gonna pay me back for the 6 eggs, I got no choice but to beat the hell out of you six times.”

The white haired male faltered, “Huh!?” before seeing the blue haired male coming straight for him with his fists in a fighting position. 

 “Grit your teeth, you little bastards!!” And with that Deuce began his little fight by pulling at the kid’s clothes and punching them a little too hard.

“Where does that phrase even come from?” But what could you do besides stand there and wait even if you didn’t want the two to get hurt going into the fight now would be harmful.

You really need to stop getting involved in fights. 

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

Trip to the store with Tom and Harry

*This is actually part of a chapter of something I've been writing for myself, just for fun. Basically, the reader is staying with them for the weekend, things are still pretty recent with Tom, she's famous too, whatever, whatever... there are 15 chapters tho (48k + words)! This blurp doesn't contain smut, but the others do, so let me know if you like this, and I might post the full series.

Minor warning: people taking unsolicited pictures, panic attack foreshadowing. Also, this is in a world pre-pandemic (the series happens in June 2019) that's why no maks. But you live in 2021, so please wear yours!

Overall, just pure fluffiness and brother's bickering. Enjoy and please, please give me your feedback!

This is 2k+ words, btw

*edit! I did it you guys, here's chapter 1 of the whole series

“Just leave it, baby” Tom calls out when I get up from the breakfast table taking the dishes to the sink to wash them.

“It’s fine, just a couple plates” I say already washing them. “You wanna go to the store now or later?”

“Let’s go now” Tom says.

“I call shotgun!” Harry announces.

“Absolutely not! I’m driving and(y/n)'s my-” I keep my ear open for the end of that sentence, which apparently won’t be coming out because Harry starts to laugh and I can tell Tom wants to kill him for that. I just shake my head and keep washing the plates, pretending I didn’t hear anything.

We go back to his room to brush our teeth before heading out and I consider changing my clothes, but decide this is fine (out of laziness). Tom changes into a pair of joggers and shirt, he looks like he’s going to work out, but handsome as always. I wonder if he’s going to wear the cap and sunglasses that he keeps on his car for quick disguise. He grabs his wallet and the car keys and we’re heading out when I remember my wallet.

“Hold on, forgot my wallet” I say going back the hallway.

“What you need your wallet for?” He asks when I get back, he was waiting for me at the end of the corridor. We go down the stairs, Harry is already there waiting, flipping through his phone.

“You see, a wallet is where you keep your money and these plastic card thingies, which are like money, but virtual. Money is something you need to give the people at the store-”

“Alright smart ass, I get it. You won’t need to buy anything, it’s what I’m saying”

“Please don’t get him started” Harry pleads with me when we get outside the door.

“What?” I laugh. Tom unlocks the car and I go straight to the backseat, trying to avoid another awkward sitting discussion.

“Tom insists he pays for everything around the house. Part of the reason why we go grocery shopping without him” Harry says from the front seat. “He’s pretty good at making money, got admit. But terrible at managing it, the lads don’t even pay rent!”

“Would you like to pay rent?” Tom asks, reversing the car and taking a glance at me, winking.

“I’m your brother! Dealing with you IS my rent” I laugh the whole way to the store at their banter about money, the radio, the car temperature. I catch glances at Tom through the rear mirror, smiling every time he sees me watching him.

“Why are we here? I though it was only food” Harry asks with an annoyed voice when Tom turned to get in a parking lot.

“We’re getting other stuff too” Tom explains, parking and getting out of the car, taking my hand. He didn’t get his cap and sunglasses. We left the car at a parking lot and walked to a discreet door that read ‘collect by car’, was this some kind of celebrity special entrance? We take an elevator and when it opens it’s like a mall, or a department store. A fancy Target, I’d say. ‘Marks & Spencer’. Uh…very British. Harry takes a cart and Tom gets another. I follow Tom but notice that Harry goes solo on his shopping trip. Tom’s still holding my hand and I look around to see if anyone’s watching but apparently not. “Let’s look at the blown dryers first, huh?” He says and I nod, following his lead.

When we get to the beauty tools section (is that what they call it?) Tom reaches for the fancy, expensive blow dryer models and I reach for the travel-sized ones. I look at him smiling. “You were thinking about getting a blown dryer for the house, weren’t you?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Tom, you’re seriously buying a blown dryer just because I asked to borrow one?” I laugh at him.

“I could use one too, you know? It’s not just for when you come around” He says in a tone that gives away he was thinking exactly the opposite.

“Okay then. Not that brand, though. This one” I put back the travel size and step closer to him to look at the models, reading the boxes and considering the options. When we settle for one he puts it on the cart and we keep walking through the store, reaching the products section. “Shampoo” I indicate, walking towards the shelf with all the options.

“Hi, can I help you guys?” A store attendant asks approaching us.

“Hi” I say smiling at her. “Just looking for some shampoo and conditioner”

“Something specific?”

“Not rubbish” Tom jokes. And she looks confused.

“He uses Head & Shoulders and is offended I called it rubbish” I explain to her laughing.

“Oh…that’s not good” She grimaces and Tom shakes his head.

“I know! Thank you! It doesn’t have to be anything fancy…I don’t know any of these brands though…” Me and the attendant start talking about shampoo and Tom zones out, looking around. When I finally pick one, along with conditioner, hair mask and styling gel I put it all in the cart and thank her. Tom was looking at a shelf with bath products, bath salts and bombs.

“Hi” I step to his side.

“Bath bomb? Doesn’t sound very relaxing” I laugh at that. Boys. When I was going to explain it to him two girls approach us.

“Hi, Tom!” One of them says, blushing furiously.

“Uh…hi!” He answers, slightly startled. “How’s it going?” He recovers his composure.

“Fine…Uh, is it ok if we ask you for a selfie?”

“Sure, no problem” He smiles. They look in between him and I.

“Could you take one, (y/n)?” Does she mean with me, or she want’s me to take the picture?

“Sure, give me your phone” I say reaching for her phone. And they laugh nervously.

“We meant with us”

“Oh, yeah” I laugh. “Course” Tom is watching and laughing at me. “But do you want me to take one of you guys with him too? So you don’t have only selfies”

“Oh would you? Thank you!” They say giving me their phones and posing along him. He keeps staring at you the whole time. I snap multiple pics with both phones and give them back to them.

“See what you think” I gave their phones back.

“Oh it’s great! Thank you”

“You didn’t even look at it. What if she’s a shitty photographer?” Tom laughs.

“Excuse me? I’m a great photographer” I answered him. “I bet the one’s you take won’t look so great” I said posing with the girls, who were just staring at the two of us in awe. I smiled while Tom snapped the pics and then he gave their phones back.

“Thank you!” One of them smiled.

“Yeah thank you!” They were walking away when one of them looked back and shouted. “You guys are really cute together!” And they sprinted away laughing.

“Teenagers” Tom says shaking his head and laughing.

“Don’t know, we ARE really cute together” You tease him, poking his side.

“I know, wasn’t disagreeing” He says defensively. “You can’t make every fan encounter this long though, or else you’re never gonna get anything done”

“Okay grandpa” You laugh. “Common, it didn’t even take that long”

“Not this time. Probably made their day, though” He says. “Just don’t get frustrated if every fan isn’t this nice”

“I don’t expect them to be. It’s just, they liked whatever we do and it’s part of their lives. Doesn’t cost anything to be nice, and besides, it’s a positive reinforcement. Next time they need courage to do something, it’ll be easier for them. People make too much fuss about celebrities, but like, asking a date out is way scarier and more common” Tom just smiled and shakes his head. “What?”

“I really love your mind, you know?”

“What did I said?”

“The positive reinforcement thing. I though you were going to say we’re leaving a good impression” You scoff.

“Bath bombs” I say trying to change the subject. “It’s like aspirin, for your bath. They’re really nice, wanna pick some?” He nods picking one up and trying to smell them. You guys joke around and pick some bath bombs as well as some bubbles and shower gel. “We got so much stuff” I say looking at the cart.

“Only essentials” He says and kiss me on the cheek. “I like this, get used to it”

“What?”

“Spoiling you. I’m like a sugar daddy”

“Oh my god, you didn’t just say that” I laugh. “That makes me a toiletries sugar baby” He laughs and pushes the cart along the corridor. We find Harry on the beverages section, picking up some beer boxes.

“So much for groceries” Tom says looking at his cart. Chips, candy, beer and milk. We get a few more items like some fruits and vegetables, yogurt, eggs and of course a bunch of ready meals, which seem to be a must for them.

“You guys don’t cook much, do you?” I joke.

“Only when Sam’s around. Which then he cook’s for us, of course” Harry answers and I laugh.

“Is he at school?” I ask.

“Cooking school. In Paris” Harry tells me, putting the groceries on the cashier belt.

“That’s so cool” I look at Tom. “That’s really cool”

“I know. Wait, are you really more impressed by my younger-chef-brother than my acting career?” He laughs.

“I mean…” I shrug and Harry laughs at us. We see a flash and turn our heads at the same time to the woman on the line behind us, who had her phone pointed to us. I look down and Tom puts his arm around me. “She’s taking pics” I whisper to him getting out of his embrace.

“So?” He says and puts his hand on my back, standing with his back to her in front of me. Harry hurries up and finishes putting the groceries on the belt, bagging everything up. I go to help him while Tom pays for our shopping. We put the stuff back on a cart and get out of the store. When we get out of the elevator and in the parking lot again, I hear Tom saying to Harry ‘Ride on the back now, yeah?’. We put everything on the trunk and Harry gets on the backseat, so I get on the passenger seat. Tom starts to drive and takes my hand laying on my thigh, he rubs his thumb over the back of my hand and I’m glad he’s being mindful because these encounters with paparazzi and random people taking pics really stress me out.

“I don’t really mind taking photos” I say out of the blue. “When they introduce themselves and ask for it”

“It’s so disrespectful, pisses me off” Harry agrees. “Like, you want a photo? Fine, just ask for it. You don’t simply snap photos of random people on the street, what makes you think you have the right to do it if you saw the person on a movie before?”

“We only saw that because the flash was on too. Makes me think of all the times I never see it. Like you’re always being watched. It’s…” Scary? Stressful? An invasion of privacy? All of the above?

“I’m sorry” Tom says, tightening his grip on my hand.

“It’s not your fault” I say.

“I’m still sorry” I give him a half smile. Nothing we can do about it, is there?

“Nice record Tom, where did you get it?” Harry asked lifting the Lime Cordiale record I bought Tom at Camden.

“That’s (y/n)'s” He says.

“I bought it for you” I smile.

“What? Did you?” I bit my lip smiling and nod. “I’m an idiot, sorry”

“That you are. An ungrateful idiot apparently” Harry says.

“It’s ok” I give Harry a glare. “It’s ok, really” I repeat looking over at Tom. “As long as you listen to them now”

“I will, promise” He smiles and lifts my hand to kiss it. Harry makes a gaging sound and I just laugh.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

‘cause spider-man comes tonight

🎄The Twelve Days of Promptmas🎄 - Day Four

concepts: holiday smut

dialogue: all I want for Christmas is you.” “You’re Jewish?” “So?” 

The sequel to the dirty talk fic, but make it ~festive~

❆❆❆

i.

“Good moooorning.”

Peter’s voice is gentle, almost singing against her bare skin as his lips trail kisses along her shoulder. 

Michelle shifts, grumbling at the soft, dragging touches. 

Still, he persists, his breath tickling. “Wake up.”

And as annoyed as she is for being woken up, she can’t help but smile as he snuggles against her, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. “Too early…” She mumbles sleepily into the pillow, nestling further into the blankets. 

Peter huffs out a laugh, his lips pausing momentarily over the strap of her tank top before he keeps going. “Didn’t you wanna go to shopping today? For the party?” He reasons, though MJ knows for a fact that the purpose in all of this isn’t to get the two of them out of bed, per se. 

No, his intentions are perfectly clear. 

“Not at—” She barely cranes her head up, glancing at her phone on the bedside table. “—nine in the morning.” 

“Wow, so early,” he mumbles against her skin. 

Her expression contorts when he finds a particularly ticklish spot on her neck, half-heartedly warning him as she tries to twist away from his mouth. “Hey.”

“What?” He chuckles, cuddling closer, arms locking around her, pressing his cheek into her shoulder blade as he gives her a loving squeeze. “Does that tickle?” 

He knows the answer already, the little shit, and she can’t help but lightly smack his arm in response. 

He laughs again, a sound that makes a comforting warmth bloom in her chest. It’s good that he can’t see her face, that his is burrowing into her shoulder, to see the light smile tugging at her lips, the way her eyes close again as she breathes out a contented sigh. 

Though, his touches soon turn less than innocent, and he’s whispering filthy nothings into her ear as his hands shamelessly roam her body, as he presses his hardness against her. While some of what he says is of the highest quality—he’s actually great at dirty talk when he wants to be—there’s always that one line he has to sneak in there. 

Sure, “I have a big present for you,” as he pokes her in the back of thigh with his morning wood isn’t necessarily groundbreaking, or his worst yet, but it’s still enough to coax a slightly undignified snort out of her. 

Finally, she turns over to face him, eyeing him carefully, a single brow raised. “Oh really?” 

Peter nods, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I sure do.” 

“Of course.” Her tongue presses against the inside of her cheek as she fights the urge to roll her eyes and laugh. 

When she doesn’t say anything else he nudges her. “Are you not gonna ask what it is?”

“I think I have a pretty good idea—” She glances down. “—It’s either an actual present… or, if I know you well enough, which unfortunately, I do—” She meets his gaze again. “It’s your dick.”

“Bingo.” He throws in a wink for good measure. 

“I thought I already got that present, though?” MJ asks, trying to stay casual. “Eight nights in a row?”

“That was for me,” Peter insists. “This—” He bites is his lip, pressing himself against her again. “Is for you. You can even have it early. As a treat.”

She can’t help but laugh as he leans in to kiss her, pressing her palm against his chest to keep him away. “Not supposed to open anything till Christmas. Come on, man, you know the rules.” 

“Good thing I’m not wrapping it.”

The double meaning gets another snort out of her, and she playfully dodges him again as his lips press into the corner of her mouth. “Peter—”

“I can put a little bow on it if you want?”

All she can do is shake her head in response and pray that she can suppress her laugh for just a second longer. “I swear… To God.”

“Love you, too,” he grins, leaning in to kiss her fully this time.

But once again, she stops him, scooting away from him. “Wait, no. Morning breath.” 

Peter pauses, his hand lingering on her waist, lip caught in his teeth in thought. She has a point there, at least she sees him thinking it through. He shrugs. “I mean, there’s doggy… reverse cowgirl… deck the halls.”

“Deck the halls?” Michelle’s brow furrows in confusion. 

“I’ll deck your halls with my boughs of holly,” he winks again.

“That’s not even a position, you just wanted to make a joke,” she playfully pushes him.

He shrugs.

Does she hate him?

Who knows?

Is this turning her on still, as stupid as it is?

Maybe.

“Now, come on,” he says, patting his legs, inviting her to climb onto his lap. “Hop on.” 

“So romantic,” she deadpans with a quirk of her brow. 

But does that mean she’s giving in so soon? 

Absolutely not. 

Some restraint and discipline would be good for them both. 

They have things to do today. 

Namely, getting ready for Flash’s big holiday bash tonight. 

“Maybe later, okay?” A knowing, sly grin stretches across her face as she pats him twice on the cheek, climbing up from the bed before he can protest. 

He huffs out a laugh, looking up at her with borderline pleading eyes. So innocent a look for so definitely not-innocent a request. “Please?”

“Nuh uh,” she says as she starts rifling through her dresser. She makes a show of getting dressed, slowly peeling her tank top off. He grins, his eyes instantly taking in the sight of her bare chest, before she’s tossing the shirt at him. He catches it easily, his gaze never leaving hers. 

“We have to go shopping.”

ii.

Why she thought it was ever a good idea to let Peter peruse the holiday section of the local Michael’s with her, she has no idea. 

Especially when he’s in the mood he’s been in all morning—for the entirety of their relationship, really.

One minute, he’s by her side, holding out different festive candles for her to smell as she looks at the different coffee mugs and tea sets, and the next he’s throwing her a wink and a subtle kiss as he points at a sign that says fall on your knees. 

He seems especially thirsty today, for some reason—though she would argue that Peter never really needs a reason to try and seduce her with his own brand of dirty talk, however horrible it may be, however it makes her blink unimpressed at him, however it makes her laugh until her sides hurt. 

While it had all started as something kept strictly to the confines of their bedroom, more and more, it’s started to bleed into their everyday conversation. And every time, it has the same effect on her. She’ll stare at him, slow-blinking, lips twitching as she tries to suppress a smile. 

And, she’d be lying if she said that no matter how cringey some of his lines are… damn it, they kind of work. She’s too attracted to him as a whole for them not to. 

“MJ.”

She hears his voice on the other end of the aisle. Insistent, a self-indulgent chuckle hiding under his tone. 

Her lips press into a thin line as she pointedly ignores him, continuing to browse the different tea towels. 

“MJ,” he says again, louder this time. Childish, even. 

Still, she doesn’t look at him, shaking her head as she purses her lips.

“MJ!”

His voice is suddenly right next to her, and she jumps, turning to see him holding up one of those weird Elf on the Shelf dolls. 

“What?” She hisses. 

There’s that damn, stupid grin on his face as he pokes the felt figurine, his bottom lip caught between his teeth when she narrows her eyes. “When I think about you, I touch my elf.” 

And as usual, it takes everything not to smile. She bites the inside of her cheek. “You’re an idiot.” 

His smile widens to levels of supreme dopiness. “I’m your idiot,” he says with all the affection in the world. 

 “Unfortunately,” she shakes her head, huffing, though she can’t help the way her lips curve into a smile, the way her face warms. And for a moment, she thinks he’s done. He’s had his fun. He’s made her smile. 

“Wanna cradle my dreidel?” He asks under his breath, his hand dangerously low on her back. 

The sudden snort of laughter she lets out startles some poor old lady on the other end of the aisle. 

iii.

If she thinks she’s free the minute she gets back to the apartment, she’s sorely mistaken. Okay, maybe not sorely, per se. But she is very much mistaken. 

It’s again, as they’re deciding what dish to bring to Flash’s holiday get together later in the evening, rifling through their pantry and fridge in search of any usable ingredients. 

“We’ve still got these pie shell things,” Peter says, holding up the box of premade pie crust from the freezer. “Pie’s are always nice. For holidays and what not.” 

Ah, yes. The ones they forgot to bring to May’s for Thanksgiving—making them have to run to the store on a major holiday for something that was pretty much already sold out. Perfect. 

“Great. A pie’s good,” MJ says, feeling a sense of relief that they don’t necessarily have to leave the apartment again. At least until tonight. “What kind do you think?”

Peter looks up, titling his head as his lips twist in though. But then, his gaze flits to her briefly. 

“I’ve always liked creampies.” 

This time she might actually hit him. 

iv.

She’s just pulled her sweater on over her head when Peter walks into the bedroom, his eyes instantly drinking her in, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. His appreciative gaze sets a warmth in her stomach and chest, and she bites back her smile as she pushes her hair over her shoulder, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. 

His smile is is bright, and his eyes meet hers in the mirror as he comes to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he murmurs into her hair, “God, can’t wait to hurry down your chimney tonight.”

And to think she’d started to lean into him. She scoffs, smacking his arm gently. “Shut up.”

“Seriously,” he says, a laugh under his tone as he steps back. His hand lingers though, falling to play with the hem of her black skirt, gently brushing her thigh through her black tights. “You look really pretty. Easily one of my top favorite outfits.” He pauses, tilting his head in thought. “Besides nothing. You should wear nothing more often.”

“Note taken,” she says, nodding slowly, holding herself together—at least attempting to. 

“And honestly,” He muses. “I think taking this off—” he tugs at the sweater, his voice lowering. “—would really elevate the look. You know what? The skirt too.”

She quirks a brow at him in the mirror, though there’s nothing she can do to prevent her smile from widening. “Oh, so I should just… take my clothes off?”

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he replies, trying to be serious, his hands holding her waist, dropping to her hips and giving a tempting squeeze. “You should always be taking your clothes off.”

It’s amazing how this idiot can make her feel so lightheaded, how he can make her entire body feel that blurry warmth. It’s him, clearly it is, because she’s not sure she’d ever take that kind of shit from any of her other past relationships. 

Peter’s just Peter. 

“Keep it in your pants, Parker,” she teases when he tugs her closer, her back against his chest. She knows what he’s doing; exactly what. 

And again, it’s not going to work. 

Unlike him, she has a sense of self-control. 

No matter how hot her boyfriend is. 

His laugh causes her stomach to flip pleasantly. “But, baby, all I want for Christmas is you.”

“You’re Jewish?”

“So?” 

She turns in his arms, facing him now, her palms pressing into his chest. “Also it’s not Christmas yet?” 

“Christmas eve is pretty much Christmas.”

She blinks.

“Where’s your sense of imagination? Your holiday spirit?” He asks earnestly, squeezing her gently. “Now what do you want? Naughty? Or Nice?” His face lights up. “Oo! Both.”

It’s a wonder her eyes don’t roll out of her head and onto the floor, or that her cheeks fall off from how hard she’s trying not to smile. She ignores the conversation. “We’re gonna be late to Flash’s. Come on.” 

“Eh, I think there’s time.” Peter’s hand falls to hers, locking their fingers together as he pulls her close, his lips finding his favorite spot on her neck easily. 

In spite of the ticking clock in her mind, she closes her eyes, sighing softly at the feeling of his soft kisses pressing into her skin. 

“Flavortown has holiday hours right?”

And it’s the wicked grin on his face when he pulls back to look at her that causes her to snap back to reality. She laughs, her body practically screaming in protest as she steps fully away from him and out of his warmth. 

v.

The whole car ride to Flash’s feels like an eternity, given the lack of time for a pre-party quickie back at the apartment. Peter’s hand stays on her thigh, the other on the wheel, and it’s clear that he’s not paying all that much attention when he stalls at one or two red lights, startling when there’s a chorus of honking from behind them. 

Though it’s a seemingly innocent touch—he never ascends past the hemline of her skirt—it still burns her skin through the thin material of her tights. It still causes her mind to go places where it really shouldn’t go while he’s driving, while they’re on their way to a friend’s holiday party. All day, it’s been a constant game between them, and at first, MJ had assumed that she had the upper hand. 

Now, however, she’s not sure. 

She’s tried her best to ignore his dumb jokes mingled with legitimate propositions, and for the most part, she’s been successful. 

But she just knows he’s going to try something stupid at the party. She doesn’t know what, but she knows him. 

Surprisingly, however, Peter’s able to behave himself for the first hour. He mingles with everyone, never once making a suggestive comment, never once does his hand fall past the appropriate spot on her back. It’s honestly a bit of a shock. 

But of course, all things must come to an end. 

It’s as Flash is overexplaining the different stockings on his fireplace—all for him apparently—when Peter returns with a drink in hand, his voice lowered as he leans in to whisper. “Did we bring any stocking stuffers?”

Michelle’s brow furrows in confusion. “No? Why would we?”

Peter seems puzzled for a moment, lips twisting in thought, before his eyes light up. “Oh! I forgot.” 

“Wha—”

“I brought the most important one.”

She’s ashamed that it takes her more than five seconds to process what he’s said, to get it, but when she does, it’s a slow blink and a heavy sigh. “Is it in your pants—”

“—It’s in my pants.”

+i

Okay, so maybe she doesn’t have as much self control as she’d originally thought. 

But she can’t honestly find it in herself to care, especially with Peter’s mouth hot on hers, pushing her into the dresser in one of the spare bedrooms, his hands greedy as they travel her body, hungrily twisting and pulling at her clothes. 

She’d dragged him in here not two minutes ago, after one “candy cane” joke too far. She’d been pushed right over that edge. 

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and she lets out the softest of moans as his tongue slips into her mouth, one of his hands falling to grip her ass. His groan as he presses his hardness against her causes the heat in the pit of her stomach to flare, her hold on him to tighten, clinging desperately. 

When she finally pulls back, her chest is heaving, her breath catching as his lips and tongue drag along the underside of her jaw. How he’s so good at just this, something so seemingly simple, how he can reduce her to a puddle of nerves with a few touches, she has no idea. 

But, God, she needs him now. 

Her hands move to his shoulders, gently pushing him down to where she wants him. 

But he holds still, pushing back against her, stubborn. His gaze meets hers, almost challenging, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What do you want?” He asks, knowing perfectly well what.

Her eyes narrow as she smirks. “You know what.”

“I don’t follow,” he says, pressing a kiss to the inside of her palm. “You gotta be more specific.”

On one hand, her body’s screaming at her to just jump his bones, to climb him like a tree, etc. But on the other, it wants her to drop kick him off of a mountain. “Peter…” She groans, her head falling back. 

“Am I gonna be a DJ?” He asks, and she snorts. “Am I gonna spin you all night long like a little dreidel?”

MJ’s brow furrows. “I thought your dick was the dreidel?” 

He playfully pinches her sides, shaking his head with a laugh before looking up at her again. “Am I going somewhere? To eat, maybe?”

“God, just—” she shakes her head, lips pressing together stubbornly. It’s the mischievous glint in his eyes that tells her exactly what he wants her to say. 

And dammit, she’s too horny for this.  

“Go to Flavortown.”

His giggle makes her heart nearly burst out of her chest. 

“I dunno. Is it open right now? It is almost Christmas.”

“Doors are always open for you,” she almost laughs.

“I’m on it.” She’s cut off by Peter spinning her around, his hand splaying on her back and pushing her chest into the top of the dresser as he bends her forward. A heady rush of excitement flares within her, and she shifts on her feet in anticipation. His hands slide under her skirt and up to her waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband of her tights. The brush of his knuckles against her skin leave goosebumps in its wake as he peels them—and her underwear—down to her knees, and she gasps as the cool air hits her center. 

He’s mumbling some song under his breath—one that sounds suspiciously festive. She looks back at him, a confused grin tugging at her lips when he sings aloud, “Spider-Man is coming to Flavortown…”

He bunches her skirt at her waist, and before she can even think to say anything about his song, his mouth is on her. Her knees buckle, glad to be gripping the dresser as tight as she is, when he licks a long stripe up—or down for her—her slit. His tongue is all over, languidly lapping at her, gathering her wetness and spreading it messily over her swollen clit. 

A wet gasp falls from her lips as he brings two fingers up to tease her entrance, circling lazily as he sucks her clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. 

“Fuck, Peter—”

The warmth in her belly grows hot, boiling even, as he fervently and eagerly works her heat, moaning openly into her cunt. His fingers are skilled as they curl into her, sliding in effortlessly and finding her spot. The vibrations of his hums are addictive, intoxicating, but still make her smile when she realizes it’s even more holiday music that he’s humming. 

“You’re such—fuck—such a dork,” she says, breathless, mouth curved into a wavy smile as her cheek presses into the wood of the dresser. 

He laughs against her, though his pace doesn’t falter. It stays relentless, and continues eating her out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. 

She comes with a choked, strangled moan, her knuckles tense as she grips the side of the dresser for purchase as his fingers fuck into her, as his tongue swirls around her clit in his mouth. 

The ground feels shaky underneath her, and she doesn’t dare stand. Instead, she only melts further into the furniture, her eyes fluttering closed as she gathers her breath. 

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, dumbly, hearing the lewd sound of him licking his fingers clean.

There’s nothing she can do to hold back her the laugh that bursts out of her

But then, the sound of the metal of his belt clinking reignites that same heat, and she finds herself almost whimpering in anticipation. She nearly jumps at the feeling of his tip sliding through her folds, gently tapping against her clit as he soaks himself in her arousal. The sound of Peter’s breath hitching makes her smile, and she suddenly finds energy in herself to push back against him, to grind herself on his erection. 

He doesn’t wait another moment, a throaty groan spilling past his lips as he pushes into her, inch by inch, up to the hilt. 

His pace starts slow, giving her time to accommodate, but soon, neither of them seem to have patience. In the next second, he’s fucking into her, his rhythm almost desperate as he matches it to their ragged breaths. 

“Fuck, yes. MJ. You feel so fucking good,” he moans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day. Fuck.”

It’s almost impossible to form words, her mouth hanging open, a croaking gasp leaving her lips when he shifts the angle. 

She only nods, too lost in the sound of skin slapping against skin, the feeling of him filling her so well.

“I love you so much, Em,” he breathes, his voice shaky. 

“I love you, too,” she manages somehow, miraculously. 

And she looks up in the mirror, seeing the slight uptick of a smile on his lips. “Hey, Em?” He asks, his eyes meeting hers. 

“Fuck—Yeah?”

His grip on her hips tightens as he picks up his pace, one hand placing a hard, but loving, smack on her ass. 

And as that smile grows, instantly, she understands. 

“Looks like we’re gonna have a white Christmas this year.”

[rigginsstreet]

gladys/alice + 53

53. Take off your shirt. (apologies in advance to any hal fans reading this lmfao i feel like i did him kinda dirty my bad. but hal haters are not allowed to clown on this post. also this did not turn out sexy just sad lmfao sorry)

read on ao3

She knew tonight would be a shit show. Didn’t matter that she had spent two weeks saving up money to actually buy a respectable enough outfit for dinner with the Coopers when she could have just stolen one. Because she wanted to fit in. Wanted them to like her. Didn’t want to feel like even more of an outcast in clothes she swiped from the local department store. 

Turns out, you can take the girl out of the South Side, but you can’t take the South Side out of the girl. Not according to Prudence Cooper and the giant stick he has lodged up her ass, anyway. 

Alice had been on her best behavior from the second she stepped foot on Elm Street. Had smiled and said all the right things. Had gone so far as to make Hal teach her proper dinner etiquette because she wanted to get everything perfectly right. And none of it mattered. Because all Prudence Cooper had done the whole night was look down her nose at her. Did that shit that all those bored, stuffy, suburban housewives do where they make these cryptic little jabs at you with a smile on their face so you have to think twice about if you’ve just been insulted. Because God forbid they say what they really feel. That’s too tacky, apparently. But playing mind games with a teenager is acceptable. 

By the time dinner was over Alice’s palms were bleeding from her nails digging into them so hard. Because, for as much as she wanted to jump over the table and deck Prudence Cooper in her little Puritan face, she knew better. Because, in spite of his nutjob mother, Alice still loved Hal. Even though she was questioning that allegiance now. 

Not once during that dinner from hell did he pipe his big mouth up to say anything in her defense. He’s her boyfriend. That’s supposed to mean something. All the shit she gets from everyone for dating a North Sider, a Cooper, no less, and she always defends him. And he can’t say one thing to his mother.

So now here she was, at some house party drowning her sorrows, her anger. She’d come here with Hal, she remembers that much. But the minute she stepped inside she made it her mission to stay away from him the rest of the night. She wanted to wipe all memory of Hal and the Coopers from her mind, and she was doing a pretty damn good job of it, if she said so herself. 

There was some blue concoction in a giant bowl in the kitchen that kind of tasted like ass, if she was honest. But, fortunately, it had lost all flavor by her third cup, so she kept going back for more.

She’s lost count by now of how many times she’s sent some freshman to fetch her a refill while she hides out in any other corner of the house that isn’t the kitchen because Hal gave up trying to chase her only for her to dodge him. Thought he was being smart parking it in the kitchen to wait for her to come back for another drink. Like she wouldn’t figure out a way around that one.

But apparently Hal’s wizened up to that plan, too. She can see him moving through the crowd of partygoers, obviously looking for her. She’s got the advantage, though, crouched down on the floor out of view. Time to move, though. Can’t risk Hal finding her and turning this night into an even worse fiasco.

Getting up proves to be a little more difficult than anticipated. The room immediately starts spinning, and she has to reach her hand out to the nearest wall to steady herself. Stands still, takes a couple of deep breaths, then she’s good to go. 

Except she’s not. Barely a step forward and she’s falling sideways into the wall. 

“Fuck,” she says on impact before falling into a fit of giggles. The wall suddenly feels like exactly where she needs to be. It’s nice. Soft. Safe...

“Jesus, Al, how much have you had tonight?”

There’s arms around her suddenly. Strong, but skinny. Not Hal’s. And that voice... definitely not Hal’s. Too feminine, even with the grit it possesses. Something oddly familiar she can’t quite place.

“‘m fine,” she says, trying to push out of whoever’s hold she’s in. The room’s so dark around her. Can’t see shit in front her, but that doesn’t matter. She’s just gotta move forward.

“Like hell you are. C’mon, where’s that boytoy of yours?”

Alice’s eyes flutter open at that. Suddenly the room’s not so dark anymore. Gladys Cohen is the one holding her up, she sees now. Because this night just had to get worse for her.

“Don’t wanna see him.” The words slur coming out of her mouth. 

Gladys huffs beside her. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m cutting you off.”

She reaches for the cup just as Alice is bringing it to her lips. The reaction is slow, but once Alice is keyed in to what Gladys is doing, she jerks her hand away out of reach. “Fuck off.”

“Don’t be a brat.” 

Gladys reaches over again for the cup, this time successfully getting ahold of it. Only serves to make Alice pull back, an anger flaring up inside her. 

“Get off me!”

“I’m not letting you get alcohol poisoning over a fight with your boyfriend, that’s so fucking cliche, Al!”

“It’s none of your business!”

Alice swings her arm back towards her in full force, and she feels it instantly. The warm liquid spilling down her shirt, pressing it to her skin. She looks down and sees nothing but a big purple splotch, the blue drink mixing in with the soft pink of her satin blouse. 

The blouse she spent weeks saving for. The blouse that was supposed to solve all her problems. The blouse that couldn’t save her from making a bad impression on Hal’s mother. 

A dam breaks. Tears free flow down her face and there’s a whine coming from the back of her throat, high and shrill and she doesn’t even care.

“Aw, shit. Al-”

“Everything’s ruined!” She yells with everything she has in her. Pounds both her fists into Gladys’ chest, hard enough that she stumbles back a step, before running off to the nearest bathroom.

She slams the door shut as soon as she gets inside. Grabs the nearest hand towel and places under the water and furiously starts scrubbing away at the stain. Some color rubs off onto the towel but it’s doing nothing to remove it from her shirt. 

Vision blurry with tears, Alice gives up, throwing the towel down with a growl before gripping the countertop in front of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears, but it does nothing. She should’ve known better. Playing dress-up for one night doesn’t change anything. She’ll always be South Side trash, and the universe won’t let her forget it. 

There’s a soft tapping at the door. Alice rubs her sleeve under nose before answering. “Go away.” But it’s half-hearted.

The door slowly opens. Gladys peaks her head through, like she’s making sure it won’t get bitten off. When she deems it safe enough she lets herself fully in, closing the door behind her. “You okay?”

Alice sniffles. “Do I look okay?”

“Maybe not your finest hour, but I’ve got no complaints.”

Alice rolls her eyes.

“Take off your shirt,” Gladys commands, jutting her chin out at her.

“I’m not in the mood, G-”

Gladys laughs. “And I’m not trying to fuck the drunk girl. Take off your shirt.” She sets a jug of detergent she must’ve gotten from the laundry room down onto the counter before sliding her jacket off. 

Alice gets the hint, then, and starts unbuttoning her blouse. Gladys is removing her own shirt - some old and hand-me-down Runaways tee - and handing it over. Stands there in nothing but her bra and ripped jeans.

With a tentative hand, Alice takes it, tries her best to avoid looking. Their fingers brushing for the briefest second before Gladys is reaching for the stained blouse. Gets to work on making it look new again.

Alice slips the old shirt on. Can smell the brand of cigarettes Gladys smokes on it. The ones they used to share under the bleachers between periods and behind the Wyrm before Alice decided to quite. There’s an undercurrent of something pleasant there, too. Cinnamon and cloves. A mix that is so distantly Gladys. It makes her head spin, but she’ll blame that on her drunken state.

It makes the tears start falling again.

“Woah, hey.” Gladys abandons the shirt in the sink and turns to pull Alice into her arms. “What’s got you all worked up, blondie?”

Sometimes Alice feels like she made a mistake. That she chose wrong. And she hates to admit because, because she loves Hal. But. She misses her old life, too. And right now... everything feels too familiar. In Gladys’ shirt, in Gladys’ arms. The way Gladys is petting her hair and making her feel okay when everything’s not okay. 

She pulls back enough to look Gladys in the eyes. Gladys traces a fingertip softly at her temple, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and in that split second Alice makes the decision to lean forward, press their lips together.

It’s wrong. She knows. Hal’s outside looking for her, worried about her. And here she is hiding away, kissing her ex girlfriend. 

Gladys’ mouth opens in a gasp, and Alice takes it as an invitation. Except. 

Gladys presses the palm of her hand to Alice’s chest, pushing her back gently. “I’m not doing this, Al,” she says. There’s no anger in her voice. No hostility, surprisingly. Just... a rational calm that Alice feels so far away from.

“Why not?” Alice pouts.

Gladys smiles, but it seems sad. “Because your boyfriend’s outside.”

“You don’t even like Hal.” She goes in for another kiss, but is stopped short with Gladys’ hand to her chest again.

“But you do. You’re drunk, and upset, and I’m not interested in taking advantage.”

“Gladys-”

Gladys slips her leather back on. Zips it up to just her navel before turning to open the door. She pauses, turns to nod at the shirt in the sink. “Be gentle with that but keep scrubbing. Should come out just fine. Then go make up with your boyfriend.”

She turns to leave for good this time, but the moment doesn’t feel finished. Things never really feel finished when it comes to them.

“Gladys?”

She’s chewing on her bottom lip when she turns to face Alice again. Eyebrows raised in expectancy. 

But there’s no words coming to Alice. Nothing feels significant enough to encapsulate the moment, everything she’s feeling. Hell if she even knows what she’s feeling. Longing? Regret? Apologetic? All of it all at once.

The silence hangs heavy between them, but Gladys must feel it, too. She gives Alice a final nod before leaving, shutting the door behind her. And Alice is left alone, wiping a tear from her eye.

[dilly-oh]

Sleep With Me

Kakashi is woken up from a dead sleep at three in the morning by an urgent text from Genma. 

EMERGENCY!!, it says. He quickly sits up, a spike of panic shocking him fully awake as he’s dosed with adrenaline. He stares at his phone, anxiously waiting for the flashing dots to spell out: WE NEED CONDOMS, STAT!

Fucking Genma. He lies back down. 

Another text. YOU OWE ME FOR WATCHING THE DOGS.

...Fucking Genma. Kakashi gets up.

GET A BOX OF CONDOMS, Genma adds as Kakashi tugs on his boots. He shudders at the reasoning behind it. What the hell were he and Raido up to at three in the fucking morning, a sex marathon? Were they trying for the world record? Whatever, he just needs to stumble down the street to one of the nearby convenience stores and buy a box of condoms. Genma lives a few floors down so he can drop them off at the door before crawling back up the stairs and collapsing into his bed. His wonderfully soft, cozy bed.

He hopes it’ll still be warm by the time he gets back. 

It’s way past midnight and all the respectable convenience stores are closed, so Kakashi has to bite the bullet and settle on the least-skuzzy of all the skuzzy 24-hour shops, the one on the corner with the cracked window and perpetual smell of urine. There’s a hobo by the dumpster outside, but he’s busy arguing with a pigeon so Kakashi is able to sidle around him and approach the front entrance, a bell tinkling rather sadly above his head. The hum of the fluorescent lights should be added to the list of known torture methods, and Kakashi does his best to ignore the incessant buzz as he walks along the poorly-lit aisles, trying to find the item in question so he can leave before he catches something.

The condom section of this store is disturbingly well-stocked, and Kakashi spends a good five minutes uncertain on which brand and variety to buy. He has an internal debate on whether to buy ‘ribbed’ or ‘studded’, unsure of the difference or which Raido would prefer. He finally settles on one of the flavored variety, cherry, because who doesn’t like cherries, right? He grabs the box and heads to the front.

Standing in line with the other half-awake zombies, Kakashi yawns, his jaw creaking spectacularly. It really is late and he’s looking forward to kicking down Genma’s door, whipping the box of condoms at him, turning his phone off, and going the fuck back to sleep. He peeks impatiently over the shoulder of the man in front of him to see how close he is to the register-

Oh. God. Oh GOD.

The cashier is hot. He’s smoking hot and Kakashi hasn’t brushed his hair all day and has bad breath and bags under his eyes and a box of condoms in his hands.

OH GOD.

Long, luscious hair pulled back into a low ponytail, dark eyes with even darker lashes, and that TAN. Is it natural? Is he that toasty…all over? Fuck, he can see muscles flexing beneath his shirt when he moves, he’s fucking ripped. Abort. ABORT. There is absolutely no way Kakashi is going to greet this ethereal being of his wicked fantasies with a box of fucking condoms in his hands. But it’s already too late, the customer in front has been dealt with and the hot cashier has spotted him next in line and is waving him over, fuck, SHIT, he’s screwed. He’s made eye contact, there’s no backing out of this now. Fight or flight instincts take over, and Kakashi isn’t about to be arrested for stealing a box of condoms. Taking a deep breath, he strides forward with all the confidence he can muster and slaps the box of jumbo-sized, cherry-flavored condoms onto the counter, refusing to show any hint of shame.

The cashier (his name-tag reads ‘Iruka’ and is a million times hotter up close) looks down at the box, blinks, and looks back up at him.

“…So who are you buying these for?”

Kakashi’s brain shorts out for a moment.

Did he just… He wonders, his sleep-deprived brain slow in catching the veiled insult. Aloud, he answers, “I…they…they’re…for me. To wear when I- you know. With...you know.” He trails off lamely, wondering if he should attempt to elaborate more or just die right here.

“I’d rather not, actually.” ‘Iruka’ eyes him for another beat, then picks up the box, frowning at it. “You know, I’m pretty sure we have extra small on the shelf back there, too,” he suggests. “Might be a snugger fit.”

“No, thank you,” Kakashi replies, struggling to maintain a modicum of politeness. Because, you know, hot cashier. Though he is being a bit of a dick.

“Alright, just remember there’s a thirty-day return policy. I’m sure you’ll be needing it.”

Okay, scratch that. He’s being a huge dick.

If this guy wasn’t such a fox I’d pop him one, Kakashi thinks to himself, fuming inwardly. …Instead of popping one-

Finally moving on, Iruka swipes the box over the scanner with no reaction.

“Huh.” He frowns and tries again. Still no beep. “That’s funny. Just a sec.” He leans over towards a small, black object-

Oh God. Please no.

“PRICE CHECK ON THE JUMBO-SIZED CONDOMS,” Iruka says into the microphone, his distorted voice blaring through the store for all to hear. “CHERRY FLAVORED-”

Kakashi lunges forward and grabs the mic, the feed cutting off with a high-pitched squeal.

“Do you really have to-” he hisses out.

“If you want your cough-syrup flavored DICK, YES,” Iruka hisses back, yanking the microphone away from him.

“Hey, I like cherry!”

“Cherry is disgusting. Your opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, dude, you’re being really rude to me for no reason-”

“No reason?!” The cashier all but bares his teeth at him. “I could feel you eyeing me from across the store! Don’t you think I get enough of that from the rest of the creeps?”

...He has a point there. 

“Look, I’m sorry, it’s not like I asked for your number-”

“Good, because the only numbers you’re getting from me is on your receipt,” Iruka snaps, shoving his purchase in a plastic bag. “That’ll be $19.86.”

“Okay, fine, Christ,” Kakashi takes out a twenty and whips it at his head. “Keep the change.” He snatches up the condoms and storms out of the store. The hobo is still there by the dumpster, babbling on. Kakashi stops, fishes in his pocket for a moment, and hands the man a five.

“Here, have a better night than me,” he bites out. The hobo gasps with delight as he takes the crumpled bill, eyes going wide.

“We feast tonight, Fitzgerald!” he cackles, grinning at the pigeon, which is now perched on his knee and cooing.

Kakashi starts down the street, the bag of condoms bumping against his knee with every angry stride.

“Hey!” A voice barks out from behind him, but he ignores it, intent on sulking. “Hey, you! Cherry dick!” Kakashi stops and looks back.

The hot cashier is running down the road after him, breath steaming in the night. He catches up, panting lightly, his cheeks flushed from the cold as much as the run. He glances up to meet Kakashi’s gaze. 

“…Hey,” Iruka says quietly, flashing him an apologetic look before dropping his eyes to the ground. “Um.” He fiddles with the zipper on his jacket for a moment. “I just got off, and… look, man, I’m sorry about back there. I didn’t mean to be such an asshole. It’s just…I was late this morning cuz my car wouldn’t start, and then my stupid co-worker ditched me so I had to work a double shift, and when I’m tired I get bitchy. Like...real bitchy. I’m...really sorry.” He groans in exhaustion, reaching up to free his hair from its constricting ponytail, scrubbing his scalp with relief. It’s an endearing action that cools Kakashi’s irritation and heats up other things. “I mean, it’s past midnight, for God’s sake. Who’s still up at this hour? I just wanna go home and pass the fuck out in bed.”

Kakashi knows exactly what that’s like.

“I’ve been there,” he says. “It’s fine. Sorry for...ogling you.”

“S’okay.” Iruka looks up at him, hopeful and shy. “Listen. Maybe we could…try this again? During the daytime, when we’re both fully rested?”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Kakashi replies, his voice completely calm while his brain is a litany of high-pitched screeches.

“Yeah?” Iruka’s whole face lights up, and holy FUCK he’s a billion times hotter when he’s smiling. Dear God. How is he going to survive this? He'll probably die when he sees him in the light of day. “Are you free tomorrow? For lunch?”

“Make it a late lunch,” Kakashi agrees, nodding. “I’ll probably sleep in.”

“God, me too,” Iruka snorts, and even that’s hot. “There’s this nice cafe that- oh, wait.” His face drops. “Those, um, cough-syrup- I mean, cherry-flavored condoms…are they for… anyone special?”

Anyone special? What is he talking abo- Oh. Ohhhh.

“They aren’t for me,” Kakashi explains quickly. “I was...there isn’t…I’m not…” He shrugs helplessly. “I’m just doing a favor for a friend.”

“...A friend who needs a box of condoms at three in the morning?”

“Don’t ask.”

“I won’t.” Iruka lets out a long sigh and rubs his eyes wearily. “Anyway, I need to be heading home. Ugh, it’s gonna take, like, an hour to walk back to my apartment, none of the buses run this late and I don’t have the cash for a cab. Maybe if I hurry I can-”

“Sleep with me,” Kakashi blurts out before he can stop himself. He can almost see Iruka’s hackles go up. “I mean, like, actual sleeping, no sex stuff. Not that I wouldn’t want to do that with you, you’re fucking gorgeous, it’s just I’m way too tired-” He cuts off his babbling, unsettled by Iruka’s stoney silence. “I’m just saying I live, like, five minutes away and I thought since it’s closer, maybe you’d appreciate-” Iruka’s still not talking. He’s probably about to kick Kakashi in the dick and run. “I, uh, promise I’m not an ax murderer or anything. You can take a pic of me and send it to your friends to let them know you’re sleeping with me-”

“I’m sure they won’t at all take that the wrong way,” Iruka states, finally speaking. He studies Kakashi for a moment longer. “...Yeah okay I’ll sleep with you. My standards are low enough right now.” He pauses to snicker. “Look at me, sleeping with a guy whose name I don’t even know. It’s like college all over again.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Kakashi.”

“Iruka.”

“I know, I saw your name-tag. So, wait. You’re not worried I’ll try something?” he asks cautiously. Iruka scoffs.

“I know jiu-jitsu. Touch me and I’ll throw you through a wall.” 

That would explain the muscles. And Kakashi’s desire to be pinned by him. 

“I have eight dogs,” he warns.

“They’ll make excellent feet-warmers,” Iruka says dismissively. “Do you have good pillows? I’m a stickler for good pillows, I need the support for my neck, otherwise I get stiff shoulders.”

“I have a couple memory foam ones, plus a down comforter and some quilts-”

“Oh God, yes, talk dirty to me.”

“Anyway, I get the bed, you can have the couch.”

“Screw you, I just worked a double shift. I get the bed.”

“It smells like wet dog.”

“I babysit a five-year old. I’ve smelled worse.”

“Okay, fine. We share the bed, but I get the right side.”

“That’s not fair, I want the right side.”

“You can have the right side if you cook us breakfast tomorrow. Or lunch, rather. I’m not getting up till noon.”

“I’ll cook, but you have to clean up. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They shake on it, firmly sealing the agreement, and head off down the road together.

They don’t let go.

(Written for @kakairu-fest Nine Weeks of Summer, Week Two Prompt: Shop AU)

[elsaclack]

smile, though your heart is aching

Jake, to his credit, manages to hide the vast majority of his disappointment.  She catches the flash of it across his face, but then it’s masked - by acceptance, by determination, by hope.  His disappointment flickers and dies as quickly as the last sparks of a firework lighting the sky off in the distance, and for a moment, Amy wants to cry. 

She’s cried a lot in the last month.  Some of it with Jake, most of it in secret.  She’s just never felt so helpless before - having babies is practically a genetic condition in her family, hardwired in the Santiago DNA.  It should be easy.  But it isn’t, and she can’t seem to find any rhyme or reason behind why it isn’t easy, and the thought of visiting her doctor just to find out that for the first time in her entire family lineage a Santiago can’t have babies is just south of debilitating.

The negative pregnancy test makes a hollow thunk as it lands against the bottom of the empty kitchen trash can, and Jake flashes her a small, encouraging smile.  “I love you,” he reminds her, voice soft.

She nods, jaw clenched against the sudden sharp emotion in her throat.  “Love you, too,” she murmurs once she’s certain her voice won’t warble.

They watch old reruns on the couch, Jake’s arm firm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.  Blunt nails scratch lightly along her upper arm, more of a faint tickle than anything else through the sleeve of her sweater, and Amy sighs before she lets her head fall to Jake’s shoulder.  She can see the corner of her calendar in the war room from where she sits, but for now it’s nothing more than a blip on her radar; oddly enough, she can’t actually remember the last time she was this close to him without sex hanging over their heads.  So she closes her eyes and nestles in a little closer, and Jake’s hand flattens against her arm as he pulls her closer still.

“We’ve still got time,” he reminds her, voice soft, barely audible over the television.  She doesn’t open her eyes.  “And we’ve got options.”

She nods after a moment, letting one of her clasped hands settle over his thigh.  “I know,” she murmurs.  “I don’t wanna think about it right now.”

He resumes his gentle scratching, turning his head to plant a kiss against the top of her head.  “Okay.” he says, and she feels the line of his nose against her scalp.  “I love you, Amy.  So much.”

Her chest feels a little looser than before, so she squeezes his thigh as she pulls her head up.  He’s looking down at her, the faintest traces of anxiety gathering in the fine lines around his eyes; she smiles, and the anxiety softens.  “I know,” she tells him, and the anxiety disappears altogether.  “I love you, too, Jake.  More than you know.”

He cranes his neck just slightly to kiss her, and it’s soft and warm and healing.  She’s missed this, too - kissing for the sake of kissing, rather than it being a vehicle toward quick sex followed by hours of monitoring her body.  It makes her heart flutter and lurch in an entirely pleasant way, and when she pulls back to see a dazed, dreamy smile plastered across his face, she can’t help the quiet laugh that bubbles up from the pit of her gut.

-

They don’t have sex for a while - neither one of them says anything about it, but Amy can tell they’re both relieved.  The desire to have a baby is definitely still burning in Amy’s mind, but it’s moved to more of a backburner - it’s easy to ignore when she focuses on managing her beat cops or hanging out with Rosa or reorganizing her bookshelves just for the hell of it.  Jake seems to immerse himself in his things, too - playing more video games and spending more time with Charles and joining some Die Hard-focused LARPing group on Facebook that meets twice a month in Central Park.

(“I gotta say, they really loved your Holly wig, babe,” he tells her as he pushes the fringe of unruly and uncombed curls out of his eyes.  “I think I just scored that role permanently.”)

It’s kind of nice, no longer being ruled by a calendar or her body’s natural rhythms.  It’s nice eating red meat again, it’s nice being able to drink wine with dinner, it’s nice not having to sit by a window when Rosa smokes her cigars.  It’s like waking up from a six-month fever dream to find the world outside exactly the same as it was before.

Not exactly the same, of course.  Before, she only knew how hollow she could feel when Jake wasn’t around; she didn’t know exactly how hollow she could feel with sitting right beside her on the bathroom floor.

Whatever, she thinks as she pours herself a glass of red wine.  It’s a cabernet sauvignon, and it’s her favorite brand, and she doesn’t even remember when she bought this bottle because it was like discovering a lost treasure when she spotted it on the wine rack on top of their fridge.  It’s six o’clock on a Tuesday and she’s already in her pajamas, shamelessly padding around the kitchen in a pair of threadbare wool socks stolen from Jake’s sock drawer with her three-quarters-full glass of wine in one hand.  She’s scrolling through Instagram with her other, occasionally pausing to like a stray picture, mentally scrolling through her suggested for you list on Netflix, when she hears Jake’s key in the lock.

She looks up when the door opens, an easy smile on her face that quickly broadens at the state of him - he’d gone to Shaw’s with Charles after work and had clearly enjoyed the liberation on drinking.  His clothes are disheveled - shirt untucked and unbuttoned, hoodie hanging crookedly from his shoulders - and his hair is a mess, looking not unlike he’d let Charles ruffle it one too many times as the night progressed.  His eyes are half-mast and he’s a little unsteady on his feet, bracing one hand against the wall as he toes his sneakers off.  She considers snapping a picture while he’s distracted, but before she can maneuver out of Instagram, he spots her.

And the change in his demeanor is immediate.

“Ames!” he half-shouts, eyes suddenly so wide they look to be in danger of popping out of his head completely.

He trips over his shoes but doesn’t fall, stumbling forward and catching himself on the couch, eyes never leaving her face.  “Whoa,” she says, quickly setting her phone and her glass on the kitchen counter before hurrying to meet him halfway (they learned the hard way three months into dating that Drunk Jake and kitchens absolutely do not mix).  “Hey, honey, are you okay?”

He straightens up right as she reaches him, immediately folding himself in around her, enveloping her completely in a warm, swaying hug.  She hugs him back automatically, arms cinching around his waist and eyes fluttering shut as she breathes him in.  He definitely smells like booze - like whiskey, specifically - but beneath that is the familiar scent of his deodorant and aftershave that settles like a warm blanket over her senses.  “I like it when you call me that,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest.  He hiccups, and she smiles into the folds of his jacket.  “Makes me feel good.”

She quietly laughs at that, pulling back to look him in the eye.  He looks a little dopey as he grins down at her - eyes half-mast again, and now she’s close enough to see that they’re a little bloodshot, too.  His head falls forward without warning, so when he pecks a kiss against her lips she’s half-laughing, half-shouting in surprise.  “You are such a dork,” she laughs when he pulls back again.

He laughs, significantly slower than her, and lets his head tilt back.  She’s watching his adam’s apple bob in his throat when he suddenly springs to attention, his gaze fixated on something over her shoulder.  “Oh, you found the cab.”

She turns her head - all she can manage with Jake’s grip keeping her in place - and from the corner of her eye, sees her half-finished glass of wine sitting on the kitchen counter.  “You bought that?” she asks incredulously.

Jake nods, blinking slowly.  “For you,” he says after a moment.  “It’s your favorite and it was on sale at the grocery store, so…”

“That was really sweet of you,” she says earnestly, pressing up to the balls of her feet to kiss him again.

“I was gonna make a thing out of it,” he says once she’s fallen back to her heels.  She feels his fingers lacing together against her back, so she settles against him a little more and laces her own fingers together against his back.  “Like, I was gonna make dinner and have that wine and like - it was gonna be a date.”

“That’s so sweet,” she says softly.  “I’m sorry I ruined it, I had no idea -”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he interrupts, face contorted in incredulity.  “You’ve made everything so much better, you - you don’t even know.  I just wanted you to show you, y’know?  I wanted to make you feel the way I feel when I’m with you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Jake, I promise - I’ve never felt as - as loved as I feel with you.  You don’t owe me anything, you don’t have to do any of that -”

“I want to, though,” he interrupts - and now both of his hands have flattened against her back, his arms taut where they’re resting against her sides.  “I want to show you how much you mean to me.  I want to make you feel - good.  I want to make you feel good.”

She can feel her pulse quickening at the way his eyes rake over her face - what was dopey and bloodshot before has become darker, wanting now.  She struggles against a swallow and his gaze drops down to her lips, to her throat.  Slowly - watching him watch her - she parts her lips.

He’s on her in a split-second, swallowing whatever noise or gasp of surprise wrenches out of her throat, and her entire body is on fire with carnal desire for the man pawing at the elastic waistband of her pajama bottoms.  They stumble toward the couch - they stumble because Jake seems to be trying to swallow her whole - and when the edge of the cushions brush against the side of her leg, he all but throws her down across it.

She has just enough time to get her bearings back before he’s dragging her closer to the end of the couch by her ankles, already down on his knees before her, looking very much like a predator closing in on his prey.  “I wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs again - so softly, a contradiction to the way his fingers pull so roughly at her pajama bottoms.  “I wanna make you feel good,” he repeats, pulling her closer still, pressing a kiss to the inside of her right knee.  “Please, Amy,” he murmurs, and it’s a miracle she remembers how to breathe.  “Please let me make you feel good.”

Hands shaking, chest heaving, she pushes her hair out of her face and meets his desperate, hungry gaze.  “Okay,” she breathes.

She wakes up sated and sore the next morning, stark naked on their couch, to find herself tangled with her equally naked husband snoring something fierce in her ear.  And despite the fact that his boxers somehow ended up on top of the entertainment center and she had to pour the rest of her glass of wine down the drain, she can’t wipe the grin from her face if she tried.

-

She tells herself she’s not going to take another pregnancy test.  Not for a while, at least.  Jake, in all of his blessed, drunken enthusiasm, hadn’t bothered with a condom - something she didn’t fully process until the next morning - but, still.  The thought of another pregnancy test - another no - makes her head hurt and her heart ache.

Besides, it’s nice being able to do this with him again.  To have sex fueled only by their passion for each other - she feels like they’ve just started dating again, like everything is fresh and new once more.  She loves Jake, loves him more than she ever knew she was capable of loving another human being, but she’s missed this part of it, too.  It’s nice to have it back, in a way.

They do it two other times in the two weeks that pass - it feels exciting and unpredictable, and it’s rejuvenating to the rest of their relationship, too.  They joke.  They tease.  They play stupid games and make stupid bets.  They even go out on a date - a real-life, honest-to-god date, which they haven’t been able to do since she became a sergeant.  They drink wine and hold hands and act goofy together, and then they go home and ravish each other, and she will not have that ruined by another false pregnancy test.

She’s home alone when it happens.  Jake’s off at work - texting periodically, but sparsely enough that she can tell he’s in the midst of a busy day - and she’s in the middle of cleaning the living room when her gaze drifts up to the war room.

They closed the doors to that room after the last false pregnancy test, telling themselves it’s just to take their minds off of it, but that was a month ago and neither one of them has even mentioned it since then.  She can still see the calendar through the glass - still on December, the last time they touched it - and then beyond that, at the dust gathered on her all-but-forgotten bookshelves.

She makes her way inside cautiously, feeling more like Indiana Jones entering some sacred temple than a homeowner trying to dust her library.  The calendar is still and unassuming, and yet Amy feels like one false move will send everything around her crashing to the ground.  So she approaches it slowly, duster in hand, trying not to let her eyes catch on any specific notes and failing spectacularly.

Whatever ache in her chest she managed to shuffle away in the time since is now back in full force; a sense of failure, of unworthiness, drips from her joints and clings to her bones.  With shaking hands, she rips December from the calendar, finding January pristine and unmarked, aside from the baseline she’d drawn in each month when she initially started on the calendar.

Her eyes fall automatically to the first day of her menstrual cycle, and her breath hitches.  It was supposed to be four days ago.  She’s been so caught up in this honeymoon phase sequel, she hadn’t noticed she never started her period.

And despite every instinct in her body telling her to stay calm, she can’t extinguish the little bud of hope that ignites in her chest.

There are still several unused pregnancy tests in her drawer in the bathroom.  They’ve shifted to the very back of the drawer, shuffled there by various other products.  But they’re there, waiting for her, unassuming in their plastic wrapper when she slowly pulls one out.

“It’s not the end of the world,” she tells herself when she settles on the toilet.  “We still have time.  We still have options.  It’s not the end of the world.”

She recaps the test once she’s finished and sets it on the bathroom counter, busying herself with starting the shower and undressing in the two minutes between.  Heart in her throat, eyes closed, she turns back toward the counter slowly.

And when she opens her eyes, she sees another negative.

She nods to herself, ignoring the tears pricking at her eyes, and quickly sweeps the test into the trashcan.  And it’s fine, really, because they do have time and they do have options, but none of that knowledge makes it feel any less like the end of the world.

She cries in the shower.  She can’t help herself.

She’s managed to regain some semblance of composure by the time the water runs cold, but she buries her face in her towel for a moment before setting about touseling her hair.  She’ll have to get rid of the test before Jake comes home - she’ll tell him about it eventually, she knows, but she’s certain she’s not ready yet.  She can just hide it in the empty pizza box sitting on the kitchen counter and carry it out to the trash chute like that - even if he comes home before she has a chance to get to that chore, he’ll never see it.

She wraps the towel around herself and steps out of the shower, thankful for the fogged mirror obscuring what she’s sure is her reddened, ruddy reflection, and stoops to grab the pregnancy test out of the trashcan.

And when she glances down at it - an automatic reaction - she freezes.

A second line - so faint she can barely see it - has developed next to the first.

She drops her towel.

A positive.  A positive.  She’s holding a positive pregnancy test.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.  “Oh my god.”

The spark of hope is back, now an engulfing flame, and she nearly rips the drawer out of the counter in her haste to grab the other pregnancy tests.  She’s heard of false positives, of course, just like she’s heard of false negatives, but she’s got five different brands of tests in her shaking fingers and a positive test clattering against Jake’s side of the bathroom counter and she’s going to make sure that this is the real deal.

She leaves them all on the counter to develop, too keyed up to even notice the fact that she’s still naked until she catches a glimpse at her crazed reflection in the mirror on the back of their bedroom door.  She quickly dons a pair of Jake’s boxers and one of his shirts, throwing her wet and unbrushed hair up into what she’s sure will be an absolutely insane-looking topknot, almost bouncing out of her skin as she watches the seconds tick by on the antique clock atop her wardrobe with one hand on the bathroom doorknob.

And when two minutes pass, she has to tell herself to calm down when she nearly rips the door from its hinges.

Six pregnancy tests sit on the counter before her, lined up in a perfect row.  Every single one of them is positive.

She nearly falls to her knees from the force of the sob that explodes in her chest.

She texts Jake - she isn’t sure what she says, something along the lines of get home right now based on the way it won’t stop vibrating with his responses - and twenty minutes later, she hears the front door swing open.  “Amy?”  His voice is sharp with concern, his footsteps loud and quick as he rushes through the apartment to where she can’t stop sobbing.  She hears him rushing into the bedroom and peers up at him from where she’s curled on the floor against her wardrobe - she’s sure he’s never looked so freaked out in his life, pale and windswept, eyes bugging out of his head.  “Amy, what the hell is going on?  Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, trying to catch her breath, and he kneels down beside her.  She points to the bathroom door, still ajar, watching his gaze follow the direction of her finger, to the pregnancy tests only just visible from that angle. And he freezes.

Her hand falls back to her knees, but he doesn’t automatically move; the grip he’s got on her knee tightens, and then loosens.  “Are those…?”  She nods, wiping her face on the backs of her hands.  His eyes are wide, an unfamiliar emotion on his face as he searches her gaze.  “Are - are you…?”

She sniffles, lets her hands fall back to her lap, and nods.

Tears automatically flood his eyes, dripping quickly down his face, as his brows knit together and rise in an upside-down V.  He huffs out a breath, his grip around her knee tightening once more, and then he’s pushing himself up to his feet and pulling her up with him.  Slowly, fingers threaded tightly with hers, he shuffles closer to the bathroom counter.  The sound he makes is completely foreign in her ears, but she doesn’t have time to process it - he’s hugging the life out of her a second later, face buried in the crook of her neck, lifting her up so her toes barely brush against the ground.  She lets herself dissolve again, ignoring the practical voice in the back of her mind saying this tight of a hug probably isn’t good for the baby.

The baby. Their baby.

He lets her fall back to her feet a moment later, but only to hold her face in his hands - he kisses her hard, his joy a palpable thing as his hands quickly slide down her neck and under her arms to flatten against her back.  She kisses back the best she can, delirious, sinking her own fingers into his hair and letting the joy envelop her fully.  There are plans to be made, schedules to be fine-tuned, and a spare bedroom that needs to be transformed into a nursery, but that can wait.

“Oh my god,” he whispers when he pulls away, letting his forehead linger against hers.  She laughs, reaches up between them to brush away the tears still steadily streaming down her face.  She needs to make an appointment with an Obstetrics specialist to actually confirm what the tests are telling them, to reiterate what she knows now to be true.  “We’re gonna have a baby.”

“We’re gonna have a baby,” Amy repeats, testing the weight of the words on her tongue.  Jake releases a choked and watery laugh, which makes her blood simmer, and suddenly those are her favorite five words on the planet.  “We’re gonna be parents.”

Jake laughs again, longer than before, and pulls her back in for another tight hug - and now she’s got four more favorite words.  She’d never live through those horrible six months again for all the money in the world, but this - this moment, this impenetrable joy - wipes out every last second of sorrow and misery.

“I love you so much,” Jake says, voice louder, cracked with emotion.  “I love you, I love you, I’m - god, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Amy mumbles, eyes squeezed shut, thumb stroking against the nape of his neck.  “Thanks for getting drunk.”

“Definitely worth the hangover.”

[sickviking-fr]

This is a long one, fellows. Buckle the fuck up.

Y'all know I only started this job two weeks ago and was all excited but it all went to shit day one. Well I got an offer from Walmart to start at a dollar more and I took it.

So last night was my last night at this grocery chain and I guess the universe knew it. The manager was happy for me so that was good, he'd been super nice and supportive for the few days since I gave him my resignation so I came in deciding I was going to give my all and do the best I could. I shot down four energy drinks because I knew it was going to only be me and one other on the shift and I was determined.

Those energy drinks took an hour to kick in but once they had I was WIRED and Manager appreciated it. About half an hour into the shift, Manager pulls me and the other guy (we will call him Jack for no reason) to the side, clearly high on caffeine himself, to give us the low down. He gives us a huge list of stuff to do and says he's sorry, its ordering night and he's all alone so he can't help us. And like, I get it, shit is the opposite of streamlined and efficient here, as you all know from my bitching, he's got a lot of work ahead of him. Jack and I have to do the work of 6 people and Manager has to do the work of three.

"Time is our enemy tonight, guys, we don't have a minute to spare standing around talking. lets get to it!" he finishes his speech.

Me, being out of my gourd on energy drinks, yell "NO BOSS! WE CAN'T ALLOW TIME TO BE THE ENEMY! LETS GO BOYS, WE'RE MAKING TIME OUR BITCH TONIGHT!" Manager punches me in the shoulder and says "Heck yeah, thats the attitude I wanna hear, why the fuck are you leaving me?!" and with that he's gone.

Now. When I said that, Time looked over at God and said "Hold my flower. No, hold my fucking flower! Who is making who their bitch? We'll see about that!" And God sayeth unto Time "Kick his ass babe, I got yo flower."

So my first task was to stock Gatorade and the energy drinks which I did in record time, taking only a half hour to do about two hours of work, working three pallets and condensing them down to one AND wrapping it up so Manager can swing by with the forklift and haul it off no questions asked. I'm feeling invincible. Next, me and Jack have to go stock water. He's exhausted, was up all day and feeling sluggish so not a whole lot of help tbh. Thats okay I'm running on four energy drinks and the high of imagining the boss begging me to stay, I've got this!

There's several pallets of various types of water container on the floor to be organized and stocked, and I'm on it like a fly on dogshit. In only fifteen minutes I put up a full pallet worth of gallons (Probably about 60-70 gallon jugs) before Time makes her move.

I don't know where Jack is, I'd sent him to move another pallet a while ago and he's not back yet. I move on to the 2.5 gallon jugs with spigots (Different brand but this same jug tbh) get about twenty up, only have four or five more that can fit on the shelf. Both hands are full of these heavy ass jugs, I lift one up onto the shelf and the spigot comes off. It just pops the fuck off. I drop the second in surprise and its spigot pops off. There's water pouring everywhere, I'm now soaked and panicking trying to gather up these jugs and get them turned in a way so they aren't pouring water everywhere and I am swearing profusely this whole time.

The wooden shelf is soaked, I'm treading water and Jack comes around the corner to see if I'm okay, sees me juggling water and starts laughing his ass off. We double team taking down all the water I just put up so I can mop the floor and the shelf. It takes the two of us over half an hour to dry everything and get the water back on the shelf.

Jack starts in on the 2 gallon bottles while I finish cleaning up. As I come back from throwing the broken containers in Claims, I see Manager has arrived with a fresh 5.5 foot high pallet of these 2 gallon waters (Its also vital to note that these come wrapped in plastic in packs of 6, which we are separating to sell individually), both are laughing, Jack is facing away from me doubled over with laughter.

"All I hear" He says "Is suddenly 'SHIT...SHIT SHIT! FUCK-SHIT FUCK!' and then just 'squeak squeak squeak'. His shoes sounded like Spongebobs boots!!" And at this point I realize my shoes are squeaking in the water but their shoes are not (I still do not know why...) As soon as Manager hears my squeaking shoes coming towards them, he also becomes consumed by giggles. Ha-ha, okay y'all shut up so we can carry on. I'm still trying to be impressive here! But I guess we are opening the water packs too slowly for Manager because he takes his special plastic cutting cutter and starts slicing open packs so we can just grab the jugs and throw them up.

EXCEPT HE'S NOT PAYING FUCKING ATTENTION! He cuts this one pack thats on the edge of the stack, three of the waters immediately start to fall over dragging the whole pack with it and now six, two gallon jugs come crashing onto my foot and also suddenly I'm wet again. Manager doesn't realize it hit my foot, but I shout and he says "Don't worry, its plastic they wont break." This phrase gets repeated ad nauseum the rest of the night to mock him.

"Well that would be great except they all fucking exploded!" he just looked at me stupid, then started swearing too. My foots fine, thanks for asking. Actually its not, my ankle is killing me as I'm writing this but whatever.

All six jugs broke open at the bottom seam and are now spewing fresh spring water onto my newly mopped floor, under the pallet and soaking into my shoes. Again. I'm running around trying to gather as much of these jugs as I can as fast as I can and get them to the sink. Again. Meanwhile my shoes are squeaking anew. Again. Jack cannot stay standing, what between laughing at Manager for busting open six gallons, repeating "It'S pLaStIc! iT wOnT bReAk!" and laughing at my squeaking footsteps running all around the two of them.

Manager has us leave the spilled water and stock, then when we are done he moves the pallet and sends the janitor over with the zamboni to clean up the water while sending us to fill up a display of cases of 24 bottled water other-where. Jack is now awake and still melting into fits of giggles every few minutes, and with his newfound energy he's tossing the cases up onto the display and then punching them into place instead of just putting them there. Toss a case, punch-punch-punch, flex, repeat. (Did I mention Jack is 18? What is it with teen boys constantly wanting to show off? Like bro who are you showing off to? Its literally just me and Manager here.) I keep telling him to knock it off but eventually, you guessed it, he pops a couple bottles.

Its already the four hour mark by the time we clean up all the water and get the rest of the packs all on the display. Smooth sailing from here on out, yeah? We're done with water, everything that needs to be on a shelf is on a shelf. It has to be easy from here. We think so anyway. It can't possibly get worse, we've still got shit to do! Innocently, we go to lunch and I chug down another energy drink. Okay so we are done stocking, its now time to face the shelves(AKA make them look nice). Manager sends me and Jack to the opposite ends of one isle, Jack arranging pickles and vinegar and I'm freshening up condiments. Suddenly I hear Jack yelling and cursing.

For several days, theres been a mystery bottle of vinegar by the Huntz that no one knows where it came from but also no one has bothered messing with. We've just been nudging it to look nice lined up with everything else and if someone buys it good if not, well it seems happy there. Its kinda shaped like this but plastic and not quite a gallon. It's filled full to the lid.

Jack decides to remove it today. He grabs it, lifts it about three inches, and the neck comes off. Just comes the fuck off. Its a perfectly clean separation at that seam where the neck connects to the body. The entire contents are now soaking into Jacks clothes from mid-chest to his shoes and puddled all over the floor. I rush over to see that he's okay and then go to get the mop for him. I can smell the vinegar from four isles away. It takes nearly another thirty minutes for him to get that properly cleaned up and then he has to take a break to change into his spare shirt because the smell is giving him a headache.

By the time he comes back, I've finished that isle and moved on to the cereal + juice isle and the store is now open. I tell him that he must have felt left out that Manager and I both made bigger messes than him with the water so he had to one-up us. This seems to make him feel better. Jack starts working juice while I'm tidying up the snacks and gummy candies. An older couple come up to me to ask about Rice Krispy Treats. I don't know where they are other than the ones I'm holding so I go to ask Jack. Poor Jack. I call out to him as he's kneeling in front of orange juice with both arms shoulder deep in the shelf and as he looks at me, for some fucking reason he squeezes his arms together in a hugging motion around maybe 8 jugs of juice.

Several fall into his lap and a customer must have gotten thirsty yesterday because someone took the cap off one jug and just left it there. Jack is now soaked chin to toes in orange juice. There is a looooot of swearing as I run over to check on him and then run off to get the mop and bucket from the back.

At some point the janitor had taken the mop from where we left it by vinegar and used it to mop up milk that the Dairy folks had spilled (so the bad luck wasn't just towards our crew, Time was taking her frustrations out on everyone). Anyway, the bucket is full of maybe four gallons of milk water and also the vinegar from earlier so it stinks but I don't have time to put fresh water in it because there are customers in the store now and the juice is a major slip hazard.

I'm pushing the bucket through the isles and I run over a drain like I do every day and thousands before me have done, except the drain cover decides TODAY IS THE DAY, NOW IS MY TIME. It kamikaze pops off and the bucket wheel goes straight in the hole, tipping the bucket over and spilling four gallons of stanky milk water every-fucking-where. Also, apparently this POS building wasn't built so that the floor sloped towards drains so the water is just flowing further and further out in every direction. Now I'm panicking trying to push as much of this water into the drain asap so I can get the bucket over to Jack so he can mop up the OJ. And I see the older couple are still waiting, toe tapping and pointing at their watches as soon as they see me. And then get all pissy that we didn't have any smaller packs of Rice Krispy Treats in yet.

Jack fucks off to the bathroom to dry as much as he can of himself while I do my best to hunt down the Janitor to send him and the Zamboni down juice, vinegar and the main pathway where the vinegar-milk-water spilled and is still stinking up the joint. Jack didn't come back for probably 40 minutes, I was honestly surprised he came back at all, I didn't think he was going to.

Manager has no idea any of this shit has happened because he's been darting off everywhere like a squirrel on coke doing his own thing. He's got the rest of those 2 gallon bottles from earlier on the fork lift and has us follow him to the frozen section. He wants us to add what's left to a display over there where we are selling the full 6-pack cases. He drops off the pallet and is gone before we can say anything. Jack, understandably, is beside himself pissed and starts literally throwing the water up onto the display and then punching them into position. Like, he's full force punching these things like gym equipment and chanting "It'S! pLaStIc! iT! wOnT! bReAk!". And of course, he pops two bottles. We still have 2 more hours of our shift left, plus 2 hours of mandatory overtime.

THANKFULLY, once we cleaned up that water the rest of the shift was uneventful, but it took forever because we were exhausted physically and mentally and pissed

[wastelandcrown]

logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 6: don’t lose ur head (the terrifying tales of the grimm monarchy)

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Roman is a teenager who makes bad choices EXTREME edition, Remus being Remus, Intrusive Thoughts, Minor Bad Parenting, so much swearing it’s insane (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please ask!! I love this freaking chapter SO much but I’m really scared of how it’s going to be received. All feedback is extremely welcome!! 

Pairings: Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, One-Sided Logicality, Platonic DRLAMP

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @im-actually-ok @hauntedturkeycalzonedreamer @croftersjam15 @rainbowsixth @snaketho @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @a-soul-among-the-stars @sweet-razz-tea @the-cactus-lord

Over the course of the next month Logan learns that despite their reputations, Roman and Remus are the opposite of what everyone thinks of them.

Logan is the smartest person he knows, there is no way in hell he’d ever miss Roman’s multiple attempts to sabotage his role as Hamilton. Smart, and yet so oblivious. Each time Roman had tried to mess with Logan after he began cultivating a friendship with Remus he was miraculously saved from the torment at the last second. Remus is a hundred percent certain that Logan has no idea that he’s fighting off his brother at each and every turn. He’s not certain of much, so it’s saying a lot. There is a beautiful dichotomy in Logan’s logs of the events and the stories Remus tells about his brother’s scourge against his brand new ‘enemy’. On a page labeled ‘Roman Incidents’ in Logan’s succinct handwriting documents every incident through the month when Roman attempted to sabotage him.

July 20th - Roman tripped near my things in the drama room while holding coffee. When I went to check on my things, someone had removed the contents of my bag and filled it with around six pounds of glitter. If this happens again, throw the bag away. Glitter makes anything unsalvageable. You will keep finding it everywhere. 

Remus knew Roman had been planning something. Of course he did. Though they didn’t share a room anymore, sneaking into it had never been exceptionally hard. Neither had eavesdropping, when it counted. It counted now more than ever because Remus had become unreasonably attached to Logan and when he heard Roman talking to himself and mentioning the name of his favourite little nerd badly he knew it was now or never. It took two excruciating hours of sitting still and listening to get the juicy stuff. He almost got caught by their mother twice. She’d only been home for three days and she’d checked on Roman twice in one night. If Remus told her about the amount of effort he was putting into something she might keel over dead from shock. 

What a funny sight that would be to him. His mother, dead from the shock of his hard work to do something good, thumping onto the floor. He laughs a little, quiet enough to keep Roman from hearing. His brain supplies the rational next step of Roman running out of his room and distraughtly cradling their mother’s head in his lap. Roman sobbing. Roman blaming him. Roman screaming about how it was his fault. And it would be, if she died like that. Remus doesn’t think it’s all that funny anymore, but once the train of thought starts it can’t be stopped. He decides that eavesdropping isn’t fun anymore and makes his way to the kitchen, trying to shake the idea of his brother cursing him out for killing their mother out of his mind. 

It doesn’t really work, but he tries anyway. The kitchen is full of distractions, good and bad. The knives in the block look so enticing to his self-proclaimed ‘shitty-dick-wad brain’, but the cookies he nabs from the cupboard are so easy to shove into his mouth that he figures it evens out. He sits at the kitchen island and doesn’t even bother to turn on the light. It takes six cookies in his mouth at once before he can direct his thoughts somewhere else momentarily. How in the hell is he going to combat Roman’s plan? He spits all the cookies onto the counter as his brother walks in, flicks on the light, and sighs deeply.

“You could at least do that onto a plate.”

Remus just shrugs, so Roman speaks again, “How’s your evening been?”

“Before like...five minutes ago I was really liking it.” Which was true, Roman slides into the seat next to him and picks a cookie from the box.

“What changed?”

“Shitty brain,” He replies, “Y’know how it gets.”

“I do indeed. Do you need anything?” His voice is surprisingly soft with him, to the point where Remus has to give him a confused look before deciding what to say next. He figures out how to fuck with Roman’s plan in that moment.

“I wanna go to Party City and terrorize the night staff.” 

Roman only chuckles, Remus watches his twin put away the cookies and grab his car keys from the bowl on the counter. 

“Come on then, we can buy some of those plastic babies you like so much.”

As Remus is falling asleep later that night, his chest feels warm. He attributes it to the upcoming scheme-ruining scheming. It’s easier than admitting that that was the first time Roman had willingly hung out with him alone since elementary school. He knows the next morning that Roman is most likely buttering up because he suspects Remus knows. Which is...fair. Even if it hurts a little. They get coffee on the way to the theatre and separate. They both have important things to do. The best part about their somewhat rocky-relationship is that they always know where the other is in order to avoid each other. Remus knows that Roman has gone to see Janus and probably make heart eyes and pine over him like a dumbass. Roman knows that Remus is off drooling over his arch nemesis. Today it is more imperative than ever. During practice Remus manages to steal Logan’s backpack while he’s busy. 

He swaps the contents out with the six pounds of glitter he bought the night before and shoves Logan’s things into his bag for safe keeping. Nobody would dare look into Remus’ bag for fear of gore or weird pornography, even if he only has one in his bag at the moment. He’s shoving a small notebook in when he catches a title. “Hamilton Performance Experiment”. It takes literally all of his self-control not to immediately snoop. He makes it through, eventually meeting up with Logan and even carrying his bag to ‘be nice’ so Logan doesn’t pick up on the bag glitter. When Roman walks by with his coffee and “trips”, spilling his coffee all over Logan’s bag, Remus smiles. 

“Oh! Logan I’m so sorry! What a terrible accident!” Roman cries, ever the actor. 

Logan looks downright frantic as he lunges for his bag and rips it open. Glitter goes everywhere. Logan’s hair, Roman’s shoes, the entire dressing room floor. The look of distress fades from Logan’s face momentarily, returning full force when he realizes his things are missing. 

Remus pulls them out of his bag in secret, walking to the corner of the room, walking back and exclaiming, “What a good prank Roman! You must be taking some tricks from my book!”

When he hands the things back to Logan, Logan smiles. He decides not to ask about the notebook. 

July 27th - One of the props from the prop room was moved in with my things. I suspect Roman because of the look on his face when Remus took the fall for me. 

Just because he didn’t ask about the notebook does not mean it left his memory. By the time he gets in the car alone with his brother he realizes that Roman is pissed off at him.

“Couldn’t you have left it alone? How did you even find out!?” 

“I have my ways. Now shut up about it before I tell mom about that time in 8th grade-”

“Okay! Okay! I’m shutting up!” 

And he did. However that included no longer voicing his plans out loud. Which meant Remus had to get creative. He was very very good at getting creative. 

Dinner with their mother was much more quiet that week. Both twins brooding and not speaking with each other, their mother only prompting Roman to talk. It was too familiar in the worst possible ways. Remus despised his mother, but he knew how much his brother loved her. She was...well she was beautiful, intelligent, a very influential fashion designer, extremely supportive. Roman would go on about how perfect she was for hours. Sure, Remus could concede that their mother was beautiful, intelligent, and a very influential fashion designer, but whenever Roman talks about her he never says she’s at all a good mother. Especially not to him. He watches her laugh breathily at one of Roman’s shitty anecdotes from practice and decides he’s had enough of family dinner. He gets up and dutifully cleans his plate and places it in the dishwasher. The chef gives him a smile, and he smiles back. 

“Remus, dear,” His mother begins in her shrill voice, ��If you’re not going to eat with us, at least go and shower. Your smell is unbecoming.”

Then she turns back to her food like she didn’t just attempt to insult him. Jokes on her, it takes a lot more than that to hurt his feelings. He still ends up forcing himself into the shower for thirty-five minutes that night.

The rest of the week he’s more tired than usual, which the others notice. He makes an effort to not be, he really does. When his mom is in town, everything just sucks. He hangs out with Janus three times and Virgil once to get out of the house and away from his family. The other nights he spends sitting outside the convenience store with a monster or two. He ends up calling Logan one of those nights out of need for company. Logan chuckles when Remus makes up a silly reason for calling that he can’t even remember now, but he can remember Logan’s laugh. He listens to Logan talk about the book series he’s been reading and he feels a little lighter. He never ends up finding out what Roman has planned, but it’s so easy when it’s happening right in front of him. Despite his lethargy lately, he feels a fire lit in him when the missing prop is found with Logan’s bag. 

Virgil and Janus are the only two teenagers with keys to the prop room. If Logan stole the missing prop, he would have had to steal the key. No one but the twins even knew Janus had a key, and Virgil was dead set on not letting a soul into the prop room. The idea that Logan, precious little innocent fucking lamb Logan, committed theft not once but twice enrages Remus. When they find it with his things, Logan is utterly baffled. Then he realizes the implications and his face pales. Roman calls for Thomas, spouting off about how Logan stole the prop and he should face consequences, when Remus laughs as loudly as he can. 

“Hah! You guys are so funny! You think specs could ever!? Guess my prank worked out pretty damn good if you actually think Mr.Goody-Two-Shoes could commit such a heinous fucking crime!” 

Thomas sighs, tells Remus to just ask next time, and leaves. Roman stares at his brother for a solid minute with his mouth slightly ajar. Janus and Virgil are both looking at him like he’s insane because it’s so obvious to them that Roman did it. Patton is looking not at him, but at Logan, with so much concern. And Logan...Logan stares up at Remus with the look of a small and confused animal.

“Did you really do that?”

“Of course I did! I’m the resident rat bastard, I have to cause a little recreational chaos.”

He’s pretty sure Logan believes him until they’re leaving for the day and Logan whispers a ‘Thank you’ to him as he walks by. He would have melted into the floor if Janus hadn’t put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down to whisper to him.

“Why the hell did you let Roman get away with that?” Virgil is on his other side now with a scowl.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about JJ! I committed a very heinous crime!”

“Then why did Roman ask to borrow Janus’ key earlier?” Virgil asks, and Remus drops his smile to replace it with an annoyed look. 

“He just fucking asked for it!? I can’t even believe I’m related to that half-witted twit.”

“Yeah,” Virgil scoffs, “Not really the sharpest sword in the armoury, is he?”

“Please, we’ve known that for years. What I’d like to know is what are we going to do about it?” This quieted Remus, but made Virgil smirk a little. 

Janus continued, “After the backpack incident, and now the stealing incident, I’m half-convinced we have a brand new chaos demon in the group.”

“At least Remus’ chaos is fun sometimes,” Virgil mutters, “Roman’s just an ass.”

Remus gets away with being quiet as they talk until they get into Janus’ beat up old van. He doesn’t call shotgun, doesn’t slap the car's ‘ass’ as a joke, he just climbs into the back and sits there. He’s so quiet that Janus and Virgil are a little shell shocked. 

“Remus?” Virgil asks quietly and pensively, it sounds just like that soft tone Roman used with him last week. 

He’s quiet, Janus starts the car and clicks his tongue, “I’m going to shove Roman down a flight of stairs.”

“Don’t.” He manages, and the boys in the front seats go quiet. Virgil passes him the aux cord. 

He plays “Call Them Brothers” by Regina Spektor and Janus and Virgil know that tonight will be a very quiet outing. 

They’re sitting at IHOP drawing dicks on their pancakes in syrup when Remus’ phone rings. Janus and Virgil know who’s calling the second Remus sees the caller ID and smiles. 

“Evening Logie-Bear, why do I get the pleasure of hearing your devilishly sexy voice in this IHOP tonight?” Remus says and Janus groans loudly.

“You’re at IHOP?” Is the first thing Logan says, which makes Remus smile even brighter.

“Yes, sir! I’m with Virge and Janny too, you wanna say hi?” 

Logan sounds a bit contemplative when he mutters, “I was hoping you’d be alone...”

Eavesdropping Janus and Virgil make surprised faces, Remus smacks Janus in the arm, “Oh you were, were you? Why? Phone sex?”

“I wanted to ask for an opinion on a predicament.” Virgil smirks and Janus nabs his phone to speak for Remus.

“Remus would love to-Remus let me talk-You should come have some pancakes with us-Ow, watch the face!-and tell us all about how your science is going.” Janus can hear Logan hiding his laughter through the phone as Remus wrestles with him in the booth. 

“It’s more of a philosophical predicament.”

Janus nearly sees red, eyes widening and making Remus cackle,“Why in the world would you ask Remus Grimm about phi-”

It’s silent for a few moments then Logan hears a familiar voice. “It’s Virgil, we’re at the IHOP on 81st and Green.”

Logan laughs brightly, “I’ll be there. Order something for me.”

They spend the evening with breakfast for dinner, and the four get into a fairly heated friendly debate about moral ethics. Janus isn’t sure he’s ever had more fun in his life. When he’s driving away from Virgil to drop Remus off at home, he can’t help but smile at Remus’ improved demeanor. 

“Remus,” He starts after they’re alone, “I thought you and Roman were doing better, did something happen?”

“He tried to sabotage Logan twice for entirely selfish reasons, I wouldn’t care if he dies!” Remus dramatically cries.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

They’re quiet the rest of the ride, and Janus gets out to give Remus a hug before he goes in. Remus ignores Roman’s questions about his whereabouts and locks himself in his room to try and keep his mood up. It doesn’t work, but he tries. He does. 

August 3rd - Roman gave me a “peace offering” in the form of lunch. I am led to believe he was attempting to give me food poisoning, as Remus ate the lunch and has now come down with food poisoning.

His mother leaves for her office in Paris on August 1st. Roman cries and hugs her, says he’ll miss her, goes on and on about how it’s so terrible how she’s never home. He does this every time their mother and father leave, he has since they were young. Remus couldn’t give less of a shit. His plan now was finding out what Roman’s next move was. Which was hard because they were back to avoiding each other like the plague. They’d spent a few months getting better at being brothers, then one of their parents shows up and ruins it. This time it was great, Remus would never admit it, but it was. Roman made an effort when their parents weren’t around, a few months ago he started doing things like making dinner for them both and bringing it to him, offering to do a load of laundry for him while he was doing it, being mindful of his volume when practicing his singing and acting, all these little things. 

He’d even started initiating physical contact again, which Remus couldn’t get enough of. Literally. An occasional pat on the back, a grab of his hand to pull him somewhere, a light slap to his knee or arm when he said something distasteful. Giving physical affection to Remus was something that seemed to be unique to Roman. It had always been like that when they were younger, and Remus didn’t think he wanted it to stop. Any time he thinks about it he always drifts back to his head against Roman’s knee a few weeks ago when Roman had carded a hand through his hair and then a few minutes later practically tackled him to douse him in perfume The shit smelled awful, but afterwards Roman had slung an arm over his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. That and the closeness with Logan kept him buzzing for the next two days. 

Now there was nothing again. It was like Roman could turn off his affection for Remus and pretend he didn’t exist. Remus tried not to be angry about it, he really did, but he couldn’t stop the fire that he felt when the other people on stage got his praises and affection. Both of them were incredibly clingy, but Roman was so much worse at hiding it and it made Remus nearly scream. He piled all of his affectionate behavior onto Logan, and Logan never really minded. He’d place his head on Logan’s shoulder, hold his hand on stage, sit pressed up against him offstage. He loved it, he did. He loved protecting Logan, talking to Logan, existing in the same space as the dork was exhilarating. He hated having to protect Logan from his brother. There was no way in hell that Remus would let anything terrible happen to Logan, but there was no way he would ever let his brother’s stupid selfish decisions fall back on him. He knows he shouldn’t give a single shit, but he does. 

His tiredness fades with his mother, but he’s still exhausted because Roman keeps trying to fuck with Logan when he knows damn well Remus won’t let him. The selfish ass. This time, Roman has the gall to pull his entire scheme in front of Remus. 

“Logan,” He starts, his affected air is slightly dim today and his hands are hidden, “To apologize for my unkind actions, I have brought a peace offering.” 

Roman hands Logan a little bag from a restaurant Remus swears he recognizes. 

“Oh, thank you.” Logan says quietly, opening the bag and pulling out a wrapped burger. 

Logan takes it out and inspects it as Remus wracks his brain trying to remember where he knows the packaging. It hits him right before Logan takes a bite. This burger is from the restaurant that gave Roman food poisoning a few months ago. It looks like the same burger too. At this point, Remus is half-convinced Roman is taunting him. He’s in a bit of a panic and doesn’t think before he snatches the burger and shoves it in his mouth.

“Remus!” Both call out, the wrapper is still on the end of the burger so he pulls it out then chews and swallows the thing whole. 

He coughs and sputters for almost two minutes after, then shoots Roman an awful glare. 

“What just happened?” Logan asks, extremely puzzled. 

Roman is gawking at Remus again, “Why did you eat that!?” 

“Fuck you that’s why, you horsefucking shiteating egomaniac bastard.”

Roman walks off in a huff, Remus lays on the floor. 

“Are you alright?” Logan questions, handing him a water bottle.

Maneuvering onto his side, Remus takes a sip and his throat feels miles better, “I just straight up ate a burger whole like a fucking snake, how do you think I am dipshit?”

“Hm,” He pauses to think, “Bad.” 

Both boys laugh, and Logan joins Remus on the ground.

“I am beginning to believe your brother has a vendetta against me.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Logan pauses, looking at Remus who is still occasionally wheezing.

“Are you alright...emotionally?” Remus wheezes and laughs at the same time, sounding something similar to a goose. 

“‘Thought you didn’t know much about those, poindexter.”

“I do not. However, as your friend I feel like it’s important to ask.”

Remus just sighs, closes his eyes, and blows a raspberry at the ceiling.

“Me and Roman are complicated.”

“I can tell.” Remus laughs, Logan really is something else. 

It’s quiet when Remus asks, “Do you hate him?”

“No,” Logan’s response is measured and confident like he’s asked himself this question a hundred times, “I don’t hate him. I think he’s got some things to work out, and is taking out his frustration on me as of late.”

He keeps talking, Remus covers his closed eyes with his arm, “More importantly, do you hate him?”

He almost rockets to his feet when Logan says curiously, “Or, more interestingly, do you love him?”

It takes him nearly two and a half minutes sat up and sipping water, watching Logan pack his things, to muster up the will to tell the truth. 

“Of course I love him. Nobody else is gonna fucking do it.” 

He could barely comprehend Logan’s response to his admission so he shoved it out of his mind with all the force he could muster, then waved a goodbye to him when he parted and left Remus with his mind. 

He ends up going home early because his awful decision ended up actually giving him food poisoning. He takes a sick day the next day, and spends most of the time feeling like shit physically and emotionally. His brain has kept tabs on all the shitty feelings and thoughts he’s had and is now playing out a full length shitty horror movie about his life and his dumb brother and his shitty summer crush. Then there’s that conversation with Logan. The last sentence is running through him over and over again. He keeps coming back to it, though he’s sure Logan didn’t even mean anything by it. Seventeen words and his world was sent spinning. 

“Ah, I understand, it’s hard to love somebody when they don’t act like they love you back.” 

Logan doesn’t even know the half of it. 

August 20th - Roman asked me directly to leave the production. Though I admire the effort, all it achieved was a quite awful night, and an angry lecture(?) of sorts from Janus. I do not believe Roman will be trying this tactic ever again.

Roman tries to apologize multiple times, but something angry and petty in Remus doesn’t accept any of them. They’re both getting more and more frustrated by the minute. By the time the thirteenth of August rolls around they aren’t on speaking terms again and everyone can tell that it’s taking its toll on them both. Remus acts out more than usual against people he doesn’t usually target. He scared an ensemble girl one too many times, to the point where she ended up slapping him. He deserved it, but it still stung. Roman poured himself into his role more than ever, but it only ended up stressing him out even more than usual. When his voice so much as wavered on stage it shattered his confidence. 

It affected their friends as well. Roman spent more time with Patton and Emile, avoiding Remus and Janus as much as he could possibly manage. Janus rolled his eyes but just resigned himself to the tech booth with Virgil, Remus, and Logan. The only good thing that was happening lately was Janus’ newfound attachment to Logan. The pair's insane intelligence and love of debate meant one was nearly guaranteed every other time they were in the same room. It was exhilarating to watch, and probably exhilarating to take part in. Remus didn’t much care for debates, but watching Janus and Logan go at each other with an occasional snarky comment or new suggestion from Virgil was making him grow a fondness for them. At this point there was barely anybody in the theatre who didn’t adore Logan.

The staff, the cast, the tech. Everyone adored him. He was smart, diligent, and hard-working. He asked questions, didn’t undermine others, and respected the entire cast's talent at what they did. It was magical to watch everyone in the auditorium drift under Logan’s thumb. Remus was included. They were saving Say No To This until near last because of the lack of dancing involved, but it didn’t even matter. Say No To This was not needed in Remus’ seduction plan because Logan seemed to gravitate towards him with ease. He is a damn good friend and Remus is determined to make that boy his bride. 

Despite his growing lack of sleep and reliance on caffeine, Remus is skating by just fine without anything bad happening. Until his brother decides to fuck with his life again. He’s on the thin line between being shitty in secret and full-on breakdown, Roman really isn’t helping his case. Remus is lounging on the floor while Logan reads in a chair next to the makeup mirrors. He hears someone enter, but isn’t bothered enough to move. 

Ever the polite, Logan greets the newcomer “Ah, Hello Roman, how are you?”

“I need to ask you something.” His brother asks, and Remus turns his head away from the noise. 

“Alright, what is it?” Logan sounds so measured and calm.

There is a long pause, “What is it going to take for you to realize you should quit?”

The calmness in Logan’s voice wavers, and Remus can hear it wobble, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! I mean, it’s obvious I've been trying to get you to leave, so what’s been keeping you!?” Roman raises his voice near instantly, that same childish selfishness burns from his tongue. 

“It is none of your business.” There’s a dignified fire raging under his voice now, it’s like he’s been practicing for this. 

“You’re not even a good actor! From what I can tell, you’re entirely uninteresting and way too intellectual to be here!” Roman continues, Remus feels the urge to get up but he can’t find the will to move. 

“Roman, please think before you say something you regret.” Remus knows what Roman is going to say before it happens.

“No!” His brother is so typical, “You have no idea what this role means to me, why can’t you just leave!?”

That’s typical too, Remus opens his eyes and looks at the pair. Logan looks pissed off, Roman looks pissed off, and Janus is watching from the doorway. 

“I try very hard to give you the benefit of the doubt in regards to your debilitating egomania, but it is beginning to appear as if your whole sense of stability and purpose is built upon some false reality where you need to be the star at every possible moment. Go to therapy about it, and leave me alone.” Logan spits this in Roman’s face, then turns back to his book. 

Clenching his fists and staring at the ground, Roman looks almost defeated until he catches Remus staring and his face morphs into something so bitter he has to force himself to look away. 

“No. I will not leave you alone until I get this part. None of you have any idea how much I need it.” 

“Roman-” Janus speaks up daringly from his spot by the door, his tone is enough to warn him to stand down. 

Roman’s eyes are squeezed shut, his fists are clenched, “I know we have the same face, but I’m not a failure like my brother.”

That sends Remus to his feet and out the door before anyone can say a word. As he passes Janus on the way out Janus tries to stop him but he pushes past him, past everyone, and out the front door of the theatre. 

Janus turns on Roman in an instant, walking slowly into the room and shutting the door with purpose. Roman’s eyes are sewed shut and all the guilt he tries to push down floods him when he makes eye contact with his pissed off friend. 

“Roman, we need to have a talk.” 

[nsheetee]

Requested: 

Yangyang x Reader + Strangers to Friends to Lovers + Fluff

Summary: In which a very unhappy Yangyang is forced to pick up his little sister from daycare everyday, and you’re her daycare teacher

yangyang loves his little sister to bits and pieces

from the moment she was born and given to yangyang to hold in his tiny 11 year old arms

her little tufts of black hair sticking up and big doll eyes looking up at her older brother

he knew: he would probably do anything for this little angel

but now, 8 years later...

8 years of crying, nagging, hair-pulling, tattle tailing, and name calling

he thought he would finally be done

he thought his parents would lay off on all the responsibilities they’ve pushed onto him for the past 8 years due to the little angel that they named “joy”

he thought that once he started college, his parents would see how busy he is and finally relax off of him

but alas, yangyang was rewarded with a car of his own for his 19th birthday only under one condition: 

pick up joy from daycare at 4pm every weekday

so, a mildly irritated yangyang with a new set of wheels and just one more responsibility on his plate set out to his first day of college in his brand new chapter of life

you had a lot less to worry about, at least compared to yangyang

all you had to do was maintain a high GPA to keep your scholarship and a lot of your money problems were solved

but you still needed extra cash for yourself

which is why you got a job at a daycare

you would be in charge of a small group of 8 year old for around an hour every afternoon 

what you did with them for the hour was almost always up to you

so on the first day, your little group of five 8 year olds came into your daycare classroom- the first thing you did was go outside

the kids LOVE you

they boasted about being able to play on the playground when no one else got to- claiming they had “the awesome-est teacher EVER”

and when they got rid of all of their pent up energy from sitting on hard plastic seats at school for several hours, you managed to get them to introduce themselves to you and to one another

soon, the first day of daycare came to a close

parents arrived and greeted you, taking their kids and all their belongings with them as you wave good bye

only one girl from your group was left: joy

she sat under a shady tree, slouching as she picked at the grass next to her legs

“hey, joy. what’s up?” you ask and sit down next to her

“sorry my brother is late.” she looks guilty as she continues to pick at the grass

“it’s okay, joy. I’ll wait with you for however long it takes.” she nods, but you could tell she’s still apologetic.

“do you wanna make a flower crown?” you ask, trying to get the situation off her mind

“I don’t know how” 

“well, I'll teach you”

joy’s furrowed eyebrows slowly melts away as you hunt for flowers and a small smile blooms on her cheeks when she finally finishes her crown, gifting it to you

it was 4:47 when yangyang pulls up to the daycare, new wheels crunching on the gravel road and he pants as he gets out of the car

“yangie!” joy shrieks, running to her brother and encircling her tiny arms around his waist

“joy! I'm so sorry I'm late.” 

“I'm not the one who needs to hear that.” joy speaks matter of factly, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard an 8 year old sound more mature

as joy walks to the car, her older brother turns to you

you slowly take off the flower crown, eyebrows raised while waiting for the boy in front of you to say something

he’s so boyish it makes your heart melt

with curly hair that falls over his eyes and a smile that you know hides a lot of jokes and pranks for the future

you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the sight of him

“I'm so sorry about this. I swear it won’t happen again.” he looks down apologetically and it reminds you of an older, boy version of joy

maybe it’s because you think he’s cute or maybe because his little sister is really fun

but you wave a dismissive hand

“it’s alright. joy is a pleasure to be around. I didn’t mind.”

he raises his head to see the sincerity in your eyes and relaxes 

“I’m yangyang, joy’s brother.” he finally introduces himself

“I'm y/n, joy’s daycare teacher” you reach forward to shake his hand

“aren’t you too young to be a teacher?” he asks

“I can give CPR and kids don’t hate me, that was enough for them to hire me” you shrug, “I go to the college” you wave your hand in the general direction of your school

“oh,” he looks surprised, “me too. maybe I'll see you around? o-or we can study.” yangyang curses himself at his stutter and feels heat crawl up his cheeks 

why is he blushing over an invitation to study?

maybe because he’s never been this straight forward with anyone else before

“yeah, sure” you don’t look affected and it makes yangyang more nervous

“yangie!” joy shouts from his car, looking annoyed and yangyang sighs

“right, we have to go home. I’ll see you... later.”

and you do see him later

he arrives to pick up joy (on time) every weekday

he would gather up joy’s backpack and jacket while intently looking at you as you explain what joy did at daycare that day

and after your spiel, yangyang would ask you how your day went and how your classes are going

yangyang enjoyed your small daily conversations so much that he started coming 5 minutes early to pick up joy to have some extra time to speak to you

and then he started coming 10 minutes earlier 

and then 15

and then 20

and then you just decided to invite yangyang to join your class

“w-what?” he laughed nervously when you asked

he thought you were just kidding

why would you want him to join your class of 8 year olds?

“well you’re here for almost half of the time anyway. just join us tomorrow!”

yangyang wasn’t going to- he would tell you that he had other plans:

he needed to study, he had to get his car washed, he had to walk his dog

literally ANY excuse he could think of

but he knew he couldn’t lie to that sweet smile you always gave him when you see him

so that’s how yangyang ended up sitting criss-cross apple sauce in the circle of your group of kids at daycare the next day

he had that light dusting of pink on his cheeks as he tried to fit between joy and another boy in the group on the carpeted floor

but when you introduced him and all the little kids said “hi, yangyang” in unison

he felt more comfortable

having yangyang with the group of kids was fun... really fun

one day he showed the kids his mad soccer skills

another day he played the piano to lull them into nap-time

you think he might steal your position of being “the awesom-est teacher EVER”

and of course, joy had to tell her parents one night over dinner about what was happening at daycare

“yangyang is part of my daycare group now” joy said during a lull in conversation 

yangyang kicked her chair under the table and sent her a pointed glare

“yangyang, we asked you to pick up joy from daycare. not join her at daycare” his mother sighs and puts her fork down

“oh no, mom. it’s a lot of fun with yangyang and y/n” joy defends

“y/n...” yangyang’s father ponders, “you know, we should invite them over for dinner.” 

“YEAH!”

“absolutely not”

joy and yangyang glare at each other from across the dinner table at each other’s opposing answers

“kids...” their mother warns and looks back at her husband, “I think that’s a good idea. we hear so much about them, why not invite them over?”

and that’s how you end up ringing the Liu’s doorbell promptly at 6pm the next Friday night

you made a batch of cookies to share (you refuse to show up empty handed, especially since it’s yangyang’s parents that you’re meeting) and you wear your nice clothes that you usually keep stored away in the back of your closet

yangyang opens the door and he immediately becomes 1000x more nervous

that smile hits him again, the kind smile that he doesn’t see you give to anyone else but him

it makes his heartbeat speed up and his cheeks tinge with pink no matter how hard he grips the door frame

“y/n, hi”

“hi,” you both stand in your spots, not moving or speaking... just looking at each other, “can I come in or...?”

“right, right. sorry” yangyang moves awkwardly to let you slide past him through the doorway

the smell of your fabric softener is so familiar that yangyang almost calms down in this situation

he’s been stressed this entire week leading up to this dinner

not only are you about to meet his parents, you’re about to witness what his family is actually like

and yangyang is scared that even if you had a small part of you that liked him

it’ll be non-existent by the end of this dinner

but surprisingly

dinner goes better than he expected

it seemed like you fit in perfectly, a fifth chair pulled up to the table made the atmosphere more cozy and your laughter mixing in with the rest of his family’s was something yangyang didn’t know he needed

he had a moment where he had to sit back and wonder when you got to be such an important part of his life

maybe it’s because joy already likes you so much

and yangyang knows that no matter how many times joy tattle tales, nags, or cries at yangyang

he’ll always be her big brother 

and it seems just a little too perfect for you to be an element that was added into the mixture that is his crazy life

but yangyang, despite his doubts, decides he’ll take this small but perfect thing that life handed to him and run with it

so after dinner, he walks you to your car in the driveway

the sun has just set and the leftover rays cast a purple hue over the sky and over your skin, making Yangyang fall just a little deeper into his feelings

when you say good night, you really hope he stops you 

you really hope he doesn’t let you get into your car

you really hope he doesn’t let you close the door

but he does, and you think you may be receiving mixed signals from him for the past few weeks 

until he knocks on the window of your car

you roll it down, confusion apparent on your face

“yangyang, what’s wrong?”

“uh, n-nothing just... don’t move” he says

he grips the frame of the car with all his might to steady himself, physically and mentally, and leans down through the window 

he places a gentle kiss on your cheek and pulls back to see your reaction

you’re a bit surprised but you quickly bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too hard

and you signal at him to come back to you

you return a kiss on his rosy cheek, mumbling a shy goodnight before rolling up your window and driving away

he touches the small part of his cheek where your lips just were, smiling dumbly as he walks back into the house

he’ll have to thank joy for bringing you to him later

[etherealdizzle]

DBD Jake and Dwight - The Forest

Doesn't have to be romantic but Jake taking Dwight out and trying to teach him how to survive in the woods. Dwight of course is terrible and keeps messing up but Jake is patient cause it's his best friend/Partner. Depending on the route.

I chose for them to be friends! I hope you don't mind!! :)

“When you said you wanted to hang out, this isn’t quite what I was expecting,” Dwight said nervously, but continued to follow his friend into the woods. Jake had asked Dwight if he wanted to spend some time with him. Jake liked solitary, but he needed human interaction sometimes.

He met Dwight during one of those times. It had been nearly a year since he’d spoken to - or seen - anyone. It was starting to get to him. He made sure his stuff was safe, even going as far as setting a few traps, and ventured into the city. He’d planned to have his life on the edges of the woods, never going back to civilization. But he’d run out of food, clean clothes, and medical equipment. He grew up in a wealthy family and made sure to bring enough cash to last him a while.

He ended up going to the grocery store. He earned a few weird glances in his direction. He smelled and looked… different. Not entirely awful, but different. He just shrugged it off and continued to look for supplies. While he was looking for some food, he felt someone bump into him.

“Oh! Sorry, excuse me,” Came a soft voice behind him. He turned around to meet the other man’s gaze. He was wearing a button up shirt and a tie, looking frantic. Poor kid, Jake thought to himself.

“It’s okay.” Jake turned back to the aisle, returning to his own thoughts.

“Actually, could you help me?” The man asked, Jake facing him once more. Dwight pointed to the top of the aisle. “I can’t reach that box. Can you grab it for me?”

Jake nodded, having to stand on his tippy-toes to reach the box. He looked at the box. He didn’t recognize the company. He had been away for a while, so he figured he just didn’t know this brand. There was only once there… How long had this guy been searching? Jake handed it to the shorter man.

He smiled, taking it. “Thank you!”

“Sure.” He paused for a moment. “Why that brand? I’ve never heard of it.”

The man chuckled. “Neither have I. My boss asked me to grab it.”

“Your boss?”

“Yeah. He always sends me out to get stuff. Lots of time, it’s stuff I’ve never even heard of!”

“Sounds like he’s trying to get rid of you.” Jake said truthfully. Jake didn’t really have a filter, so he hoped this man didn’t mind it too much.

His face fell. “You really think that…?”

“Well… yeah? I guess?”

“Huh. I guess you’re right.” He looked sad.

Fuck, should’ve kept my mouth shut.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Jake asked the man.

“Dwight. Dwight Fairfield.”

“I’m Jake Park. Listen, I’m sorry about your boss. You seem like a nice enough guy.” Jake said awkwardly. He wasn’t very good at this. “So, um… Wanna hang out? Next week, same time? I can meet you back here.”

“Really? Sure!” Dwight said, a little too excited. “Do you want my number?”

Jake chuckled. “No, I don’t have a phone. Just meet me here next week, okay?”

Maybe it was stupid, but Dwight trusted the man. He’d been honest enough to tell him the truth about his boss, right? “Okay!”

And so that’s how the two of them ended up here. In the woods. Dwight would’ve worn something else if he’d known this is what would be happening. He wore nearly the same thing when they first met. The tie was a different color, and the pants were bluer.

“You’re free to leave anytime, Dwight,” Jake responded. He would understand. Most people weren’t suited for this life. Growing up, he didn’t think he would ever live like this. But people change. They grow and they learn.

“No thanks! Not sure I’d be able to find my way out, anyways,” He laughed, Jake chuckling with him.

“That’s why I’m here. I’m gonna help you.” Jake continued to walk further and further until he figured it was a good enough spot. “Okay, here’s good.”

“Good for what?”

“Dwight, remember when I told you I didn’t have a phone?”

“Yeah?”

“I also don’t have a house. I live here,” Jake motioned to the woods. “Not here, but near the outskirts.”

“Wow! That must be hard, I imagine,” Dwight said, impressed.

“It was at first. But you learn things. Like... “ Jake looked around, trying to find an example. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Huh? Sure it’s-”

Jake grabbed Dwight’s wrist, covering the watch he had almost looked at. “Not like that, Dwight. Without technology.”

Dwight shook his head. “I have no clue.”

Jake stood next to Dwight, then put his two hands together. One directly on top of the other. He raised the highest finger to the bottom of the sun. “You can use your hands to tell the time. See my two hands? It takes two to reach the horizon. That means two hours until sunset.

“So… it’s 4?”

“Yeah. See, you’re getting it!” Jake smiled at him. Dwight nervously smiled back. Jake slung the backpack off of him, sitting on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Dwight asked. He still wasn’t completely sure Jake was gonna murder him.

Jake pulled out the pieces of a tent. “We’re gonna pitch a tent.”

“Oh man…”

“Don’t worry, man. I got an easy one.” Jake set down the materials. “First step! Lay the tent down flat.”

Dwight looked at him like he was crazy. “Me?”

“Yes, Dwight! You’ve got it.”

Dwight nodded, getting to work. He pulled the fabric until it was in a rectangle. “Like that?”

“Not quite. Flip it the other way so the tent isn’t upside down,” Jake chuckled.

Dwight’s face went red. “O-oh…”

“Don’t be embarrassed. This is your first time, huh?”

“Yeah.” Dwight fixed the fabric.

“Okay, step two; use the pole and prop up the front of the tent.”

Dwight grabbed a pole. “This one?” When Jake nodded, Dwight put it into the hole, then stabbed it into the ground.

“Great. Now, use that string and tie it to the pole. Then, tie the other end to a hook, then stomp it into the ground.”

Dwight did that. “There!”

Jake nodded. “Stomp down on that hook a little more. Don’t want that flying away, right?”

Dwight used all his strength and kicked it until he couldn’t see it in the ground. Jake continued helping him with instructions. Dwight had some trouble, the poles kept falling down, but Jake was patient. “It’s okay, you’ve got it.” He kept saying, reassuring Dwight.

Once the tent was pitched, Jake patted Dwight on the back. “Look at that! All by yourself, too, man.”

Dwight grinned. “That was frustrating.”

Jake laughed. “Trust me, I know.”

The sun had begun to set. “Jake, I have work tomorrow.”

Jake had reality hit him. “Oh, right. You have work. I forgot.” Jake smiled. “C’mon. I’ll lead you back.”

“Thanks. And thank you for teaching me that stuff.”

“Anytime. You ever wanna learn some more, you come find me. I live on the outskirts. Just come find me, okay?”

Dwight grinned. “Yeah! I’ll be sure to do that!”

He meant it, too. Jake was one of the first people to actually treat him like a human. He had just met the guy and he was already his best friend. It was kind of sad, but Dwight didn’t care. He was just happy to have a friend.