#he pushes the cart and i retrieve the groceries

[suashii]

my manoniiii! what is it like going grocery shopping with mr itoshi?

mira mira, haaiii — oof i am the worst shopper bc i always insist i don’t need a list but end up needing one :3 luckily rin always writes one out bc he knows i’ll end up forgetting. i also am constantly pointing out stuff that isn’t on the list and convincing him that we need to try it bc we’ll never know if it’ll become a pantry must have! he used to fight me on it but now he just admits defeat and lets me put almost whatever in the cart hehe~

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby

- gojo satoru x reader

a domestic life with your husband and baby

genre: teeth-rotting fluff, sugary dump fluff, and simply pure fluffff, baby-related, mentions of pregnancy, dad!gojo

note: inspired by this fanart by Deltapork in twitter! from the moment i saw that artwork, i just can't get this out of my head😫

and this is a part of a series of gojo drabbles i’ve planned called gojo's love entries anthology -> updated masterlist here

general masterlist

Watching your husband entertain your child would never fail to make you smile.

"Aw, my cute baby!" Satoru joyfully exclaimed as he and the baby, secure in his hold, emitted almost harmonious squeals of delight. Both of them practically shared the same brain cells at this point.

And it was a sight that warmed your heart so much, especially when the old Gojo Satoru was a prick who used to made little Megumi cry just for the sake of it and always said that babies and everything that came with them were a pain.

He playfully devoured your son's plump cheeks and burst into laughter, paying no attention to the curious glances he garnered from other shoppers at the supermarket.

"Satoru, hush," you chided gently as you pushed the cart, yet still smiling all the same.

"Ah, look, mama doesn't approve," he remarked to your babbling son, wearing a playful pout. At the same time, your barely seven-month baby puckered his lips too, turning him into a perfect miniature version of your mischievous husband at his best, melting your heart even further.

"It's time for his milk," you pointed out, retrieving the milk bottle. Satoru reached for it and offered it to your baby, who eagerly latched on and started drinking.

Your precious baby continued to feed on the formula, clearly relishing it. It appeared that he couldn't get enough, with the way he drank with such enthusiasm.

"He's a hungry baby... just like you," you mused.

Satoru laughed out loud once again. "Why are you comparing a baby with a grown-ass man?"

Your son was still drinking the milk and seemed like he wanted more, but you could definitely tell how content he was in that moment.

"Because it's your baby, duh. And not only he looks like you, he's also reflecting what you've been doing to me so far, it's uncanny."

"So I've turned our son into a mini-me now, have I." He regarded you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And what have I done to you, darling? Tell me."

"...A lot of bad things."

"Heh, is that so?"

The baby then stopped drinking and seemed to want you to cuddle him, as he reached his tiny hands towards you. Satoru handed him over to you, taking the bottle away, and you gently pulled him close, cradling him against your chest.

"Yeah. Bad, bad things," you cooed to your baby, your eyes sparkling with joy. "First you seduced me, then got me pregnant. And then you forced me to go through that painful labor."

Satoru didn't miss the way the clerk eyed him after you said that. But he chuckled anyway. "Well... in the end you fell for me, and I probably seduced you a bit..."

He paid for the groceries and then the two of you walked out of the supermarket.

"But is that so bad?" He continued with a meaningful smirk. "You seemed like you love it so there's nothing to complain about."

"Hmph."

"And then I got you pregnant... well, you wanted a baby, dear, so you can't really be mad and blame just me for it all, okay?"

The fact that you were having this crack conversation at a crossroad made you struggle to stifle your laughter, to say the least.

Your son was still cuddling up to your chest and now he was looking at you with those wide, glassy blue eyes. You could tell how much he liked and needed you, as well as spending time with you, his mother.

This is your baby with the man who loves you. How could you not love him in return?

Satoru looked at his son in your arms. “Our son is the cutest, isn’t he?”

He seemed tired more than anything though, with the big yawn he just emitted.

“He is so… defenseless.”

“Well, he’s a baby,” your husband said matter-of-factly. “That’s how babies are, darling. He’s learning how to do things and completely defenseless, so he needs his parents. You and I.”

Your baby’s eyes became a little droopy. He was sleepy now, and wanted your warmth to fall asleep.

“Let’s… protect him together, yeah, Satoru?” you muttered softly as your child settled in your embrace, peaceful and content, falling asleep.

Your heartstrings were pulled when you witnessed the expression of absolute adoration on your husband's face.

“Silly. I’m the one who will protect both of you, sweetheart.”

[anadiasmount]

as time gets close - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: almost close to your due date, what is wrong with a late-night grocery trip with your very excited and anxiously waiting fiance?

wc: 1.8k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa 🗣️: a little dad! jude blurb bc we haven’t seen much of this on the timeline!! like always hope you enjoy 🤍

"why are you bending down? you know that is bad for you," you rolled your eyes at your fiance's scolding, grabbing the keys from the floor. "i dropped the keys by accident," you say as you pick the correct key that belonged to the lock. jude rubbed your belly, ensuring you were okay before helping you out to the car, the reusable bags tucked underneath his arm.

"did you bring the list?" you ask him seeing as he nods and pulls it out from the pockets of his hoodie. "i did. i also brought you some snacks because you didn't eat much after getting some nausea," you pouted your lips leaning up to peck his cheek thanking him. "what would i do without you?" you tease, a playful scoff falling from his lips.

"what makes you think you'd be without me? i'm attached to you for life remember?" he grabs your left hand kissing over your ring finger as he gives you a knowing look. you feel as he brings your intertwined hands to your belly, "and you're carrying my baby in there."

"really i couldn't tell," you say sarcastically.

"let's make it quick because my feet already hurt and i want to sleep," you advised letting out a tired yawn. despite being close to your due date, you still had some work to do before maternity leave. making calls to set meetings, attending them over zoom, filing paperwork, in charge of making sure the firm doesn't backfire, and planning some stuff out for your wedding.

jude had told you multiple times to take it easy, but placing that aside, he always helped you unconditionally. in the shower, when cooking, taking care of chores, before bed, and attending all your doctor's appointments. he was your personal midwife and wanted to take care of you the most he could.

you remembered to look on his face when you told him you were expecting, the tears on his face as he spoke to your barely bump all night and traced his hands on your belly. singing and humming lullabies and stories about his day. since then he wanted to protect you the best he could.

going to the grocery store at this time was nothing new, in fact, it became so prevalent now that you were pregnant because you craved everything. making jude do a late run to pick up your cravings or groceries for the upcoming weeks. the same store, at the same time.

you placed your purse on the cart, snuggling into your jacket as the cold air inside the store blew you away. you followed jude who picked out veggies and greens for his meal prepping, helping him tie the bags and weigh them on the digital scale that produced labels. you watched in awe as your boyfriend picked out three pairs of different flowers. "what are these for?" you asked, smelling the flowery scent.

"for the house. we need to replace the old ones that dried out," jude says with a shy grin. "you were the one who said plants and flowers bring a sense of home into our house, " jude recalled your words, kissing your temple, pushing the cart since it became a bit heavier. "i did say that didn't i? well i wasn't wrong," you shrug, wrapping a hand around his bicep as he trailed along isles to pick up the different items on the list.

he did all the heavy lifting as you reached and picked stuff up from your level, like spices and eggs. you turn your back for a few seconds to retrieve some milk and coffee beans for the morning, to see the cart filled with pop tarts and other salty snacks. "no no no," you shake your head, as jude whines out protests. "y/n we need them! they're even on sale!"

“jude, i don’t care! we just got some three days ago!,” you say laughing, putting back the box of pop tarts. “y/n i’m telling you right now, in a couple of hours or days you’re gonna have me running back here for them,” jude states following behind you.

“am not!” you quickly defend, bringing a hand to your aching back. “are too! last night you had me running out for cheetos. what’s it going to be today? kettled popcorn? or wingstop?” jude teased making you rolls your eyes and focusing back on to what needed to get done. “don’t forget we need to pick some of that acid reflex stuff for you, to get rid of the heartburn,” jude reminds you, taking the cart and walking out of the pop tarts isle, sneaking a box in for you.

“what’s left on the list?” you ask him, taking out a small snack you had in your purse and offering some to jude. “we need bananas, strawberries, orange juice, and meats for upcoming dinners…” jude reads the list one by one, using his index finger as he goes along.

you pass by an isle grabbing some cereal and granola for your yogurts and bowls. jude insisting he grabs his favorite too since you refuse to share from your part. as you wait by the deli section jude come behind you, grabbing your belly and relieving some of the pressure.

you immediately lay your head back on his shoulder sighing in relief, hearing jude chuckle and place a kiss on your head. “almost there darling,” he whispered running one of his hands along your tummy. “i know what you’re doing jude… and if this baby starts kicking right now i’ll leave you here,” you warn.

“i’m just trying to help you love. doesn’t it feel good?” he reprimanded as you nodded. “yes but not when she starts kicking, i swear she does it on purpose and it’s your fault. like she knows it you,” you said feeling your lower back less tense and heavy. "i kid you not, last night she almost made me pee from this hard kick!"

"sounds to me like we have a mini footballer coming into our lives," said jude continuing to hold your belly since you were tired and your baby was heavy. he had read the method online with other tips and tricks. jude got more into reading when he found out you were pregnant, wanting to know every effect and secret to ensure a healthy and safe pregnancy.

"let's hope not, i don't think i could handle cleaning up broken stuff around the house every day," you sigh, releasing yourself from his hold because you began to get hot. you didn’t understand how your body was so quick to adjust and then de-adjust from hot and cold, but it was so easy and it drove you mad sometimes.

“you okay?” jude softened his eyes as you let out a breath of despair, holding your hand and feeling a sit squeezed tightly against his. “yeah just got a mini cramp,” you held your back and practiced breathing methods you learned, “i’m good, i promise,” you kiss his hand before retrieving the meats from the butcher. "we'll get home soon, and i promise you a warm tea and massage okay?"

"did you want chocolate or strawberry milk?" jude held up the pint containers, "strawberry, we still have chocolate milk at home," you said, jude nodding as he quickly picked the orange juice and your favorite yogurts. "i was never a fan of sweet or flavored milk but these are soooo good," you exaggerated, jude smiling hard down at you.

"never a fan? these were my childhood as a kid! my mum used to buy these or the powder to make it ourselves," jude says recalling a old memory thinking of his babygirl. "you reckon she'll like them too?" jude spoke softly as he saw you give him a fast nod. if there was one thing loved it was discussing his babygirl. he was so anxious and wanted to meet her. the itch in his teeth getting bigger as every day passes.

to hold her while she slept, hug her to keep her warm, coddle her to sleep, feed her. he was ready for it all. he loved to shop and spoil her already. her carrier, crib, different books, toys, and stuffed animals like he had as a kid. she didn't know it yet, but she would be jude's second best friend. firstly you. always you.

they saw if one ever finds love at first sight, and jude definitely did with you. a smile so bright, eyes gleaming with happiness, a stranger who he fell madly with almost immediately after hearing her say hello. through ups and downs, you found your way to each other and since then, it's a love story for the movies. jude had his career blowing, a beautiful fiancee, and now a baby on the way. what more could he want?

as jude helped bag the groceries into the recycled bags you had, you paid and thanked the cashier whom you got close with on nights like these. asking how her day was, about her kids, anything special, always something to distract her. "you two have a safe night!" she yelled as you turned and thanked, wishing her a good night as well.

after you insisted on helping, you carried four light bags as jude carried most bags since he hated double trips. you guys quickly unpacked everything, longing and wishing to get into bed. you ensure the stove and other appliances are off, grabbing your tea and heading upstairs with jude.

"lay here for me," jude instructed, grabbing some cream and begging to smooth and massage out the muscles on your legs and shoulders. "after we have her, i promise i'll return every single thing you did for me while i was pregnant," you say struggled and full pleasure as the tension went away at jude's fingertips. "oh i'm fully expecting the injured boyfriend method again," jude teased as he finished up.

he grabbed a new book, laying on your side as you brushed and played with a few curls on his head, twirling them around your finger as he breathed softly. he looked so gentle and full of excitement like this, reading to your babygirl, who sensed her daddy's voice as she kicked. she knew, she always knew.

he applied your belly oil to prevent any stretch marks and kissed the small ones that formed along the way. jude cherished your body for carrying his baby in there, for being able to give and bring a new life into his and yours. you laid on your side, jude's chest connecting and fitting the crevasse on your back, holding your tummy as in a way to keep it safe.

you placed and locked hands with his, as jude wishing you a goodnight, peering kissed on your shoulders then finally lips, moaning in delight, a tiny groan leaving his lips. "i love you so much darling," he whispered, kissing your temple and snuggling into you more. "iloveyoutoojude," you said fast, with a playful smile on your lips as you felt a familiar sensation of a certain craving. "okay now i do want some pop tarts..."

"are you serious right now?"

[steveharringtonat3am]

I can’t stop thinking about going grocery shopping with Steve like I can just picture him with his little list that he insists on sticking too but he doesn’t even complain when you buy snacks god he’s so boyfriend coded

Steve never lets you push the cart. Just like how he insists on driving you everywhere, he refuses to let you push the cart for a reason you haven’t yet heard. But you can’t really complain. Being tied to the cart was annoying. But by far the most annoying thing in the store was The List.

Steve would never deviate from The List. He would write it out before leaving the house, each item in order of where you would come across them in the store. He was very meticulous about it. So much so, you once tried to slip it in your pocket when you got out of the car.

It wad funny until he drove all the way back home to “go get it”.

“Come on sweetheart.” He checks over his shoulder to make sure you’re following him as he grabs a cart, pushing it into the store. He starts with the vegetables, as they reside on the top of The List. Most of the items on there were from you. Steve, for all his grocery diligence, wasn’t much of a cook so he relied on you for most of the ingredients you would need for the week ahead. Unfortunately, he was smart enough to know when you wanted something for yourself or for actual necessity.

You start to wander off as he inspects tomatoes. It’s a normal occurrence at this point. It’s boring to simply stand next to him when you’d much rather be standing in the ice cream isle, inspecting the various pints and boxes.

‘The freezer is empty enough for this.’ You think to yourself as you grab a jumbo box of popsicles and a pint of Steve’s favourite ice cream. You head back over to the produce section, eyes scanning over mounds of apples to find a mop of brown hair. As you place the items neatly in the cart, Steve catches your eye.

“Those aren’t on the list.” It’s a statement of a fact, eyebrows raised but a soft smile on his face.

“It’s getting warmer. They would have been on next weeks list.” You smile as if you won’t finish this box in a week.

“…Sure babe.” It’s a redundant yes. As strict as he is about the list, he simply can’t say no to you. Especially when you smile so pretty at him. You follow him into the bread section, picking up his usual kind for him. He nods approvingly and you try not to let the giddiness show.

He picks up a few things from the freezer section but the bag of potstickers that are not on the list makes you smile. Steve knows they’re your favourite.

As he weighs bags of frozen okra in his hand, you once again slip away. You’re right next to the candy and chips aisle so you take it upon yourself to grab some treats. Returning to the cart with an arm full of two types of chips and a few bags of candy, you once again receive an amused look.

“Did you add something to the list I didn’t see?” He teases as you put everything in the cart.

“Well, no but you always want a snack after work so this is good! And they have such good easter candy out!” You defend your choices despite the fact he’s already accepted the junk food.

“Whatever you say babe. Take it up with your dentist.” He grins as you smack his arm, following him to the checkout aisle. Of course, he doesn’t let you help put the groceries onto the conveyor belt but you can’t complain as you focus on the bright magazines.

As the cashier scans the items, you work on placing them into the bags you had brought with you. You were an expert at stacking, placing them into the cart as Steve retrieved the receipt. He hands it to you to look over for irregularities, taking the cart and pushing it to the car. He loads the groceries into the car as you settle into the passenger seat. You watch from the rearview mirror as he walks away. Thanking your past self for buying him those tight fit jeans, you put on your seatbelt as he returns, sitting down.

“Ready to go home?” He asks you, patting your thigh.

“Sure! Can we get coffee on the way back?”

“…Fine.” He loves you too much to object.

[hearts4robs]

Hiya there!

How are you doing? I see your tumblr is pretty recent, so welcome if you weren't already an user before!

Can I request a Wally West x Gender neutral!reader? Preferably something fluffy/domestic? It isn't very specific, I just want to spread the love of ginger trackstar if you're willing to write about him ♡

Take care! Have a beautiful week :) 🍄

𝐒𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲🏁

———

———

Fandom. DC

Pairing. Wallace(Wally) West x gn!reader

Genre. fluff/soft/sfw🍊

Word count. 899

Warnings. Light cursing, mention and use of guns (nerf guns, lol)

Req. This we requested by this lovely anon🫶

Summary. Wally always found grocery shopping relaxing. You knew exactly what to do but somehow, the two of you would still end up side tracked.

Notes. Honestly, I don’t know too much about Wally’s personality. I desperately hope I got it somewhat right, and if not, delusion will win😻I’m still quite new to the DC universe and it’s fandom so my apologies. And thank you sm for sending in a request, I absolutely love it🫶🫶 thank you, you wonderful individual and you have a very wonderful week as well <3!!

———

Wally and you were like best friends. Best friends and lovers all at once, and Wally couldn’t be happier with that.

“Which one?” You ask Wally, turning to face his 6’0” form. Wally looks at you, his red hair still damp from the previous shower he had allowed himself to take before the two of you had to go shopping. You were holding two different body washes, one on each hand.

Wally thinks for a second before grabbing the one he prefers and slipping it into your cart. He lays a hand on your lower back, slipping his cold hand up beneath your shirt. I shriek quietly, arching your back away from him as you give your cart an extra push to escape his cold hand.

“Babe! I’m not your personal radiator!” You complain, a slight whine to your tone as you send Wally a glare. Wally laughs out loud as he lets his hand grab onto your side, squeezing your flesh slightly before retrieving his hand. “You’re not?” Wally asked with a wide, playful smile on his pale face. There was a teasing flush on his cheeks, and his nose scrunched up in a smile.

You grumble, pushing the cart down the aisle of the semi-quiet grocery store. Wally follows, admiring the way your back and shoulder muscles move beneath your shirt.

“Keep your cold hands to yourself.” You grumble, taking a right turn down a new aisle and opening your phone. “Oh, but what’s the fun in that [your name]?” He asks, jutting his bottom lip out as you take a pause, pulling your cart to the side so you’re not in the way. You roll your eyes, allowing Wally to wrap an arm around your waist as you find your shopping list. You check off another few things before you look up, only to be met with Wally’s grinning face.

“What are you grinning at?” You ask, frowning in slight confusion as you turn off your phone. Wally shrugged his shoulders before nudging his head to the side of yours, pressing a simple peck at your temple. “Nothin’.” He mutters, smiling, as he continues the shopping.

As the minutes pass, you find yourself in the ‘everything’s on sale; we actually don’t really want it anymore’ aisle. The aisle was filled with useless junk, kids toys, food that was 3 hours from expiring, clothes that no one would ever wear, and food you'd never heard of.

Wally was having a blast, of course. He had found a nerf gun, happily showing it off to you.

“A nerf gun fight would be fun, wouldn’t it? Looser cooks dinner?” He cocks his brow at you, a playful grin on his face. You scoff, one hand around the handle of the cart and the other picking up one of the blue, bright orange, and white plastic guns. You, as much as the idea intrigued you, raised a brow slightly, your facial expression almost disappointing and questioning as you looked at him.

He sighs, his smile faltering slightly. “Please? It’ll be fun, I promise!” Wally tries, still holding the plastic gun as he walks to you, leaning his elbows on the opposite end of the cart. I sigh, rolling your eyes as you slip the gun in your hands into the cart.

“No speedster tricks; I’ll disqualify you.” You say sternly, a small playful smile on your lips as Wally practically jumps with joy, shoving his own nerf gun of choice into the cart.

——

Why has nobody told you how exhausting it is to play with nerf-guns? Sure, you’ve played your fair share but not to the point where couches has been flipped, kitchen cabinets opened and lights dimmed.

“Where the hell are you?" You mutter to yourself, army crawling your way underneath a coffee table. It was, and don’t tell anyone, scaring you shitless. As soon as you’re out of the cover of the table, you feel multiple rubber bullets hit your shoulder blades. You squeal, immediately turning around on your back and looking up as Wally laughs.

He was on top of the fucking bookcase.

“You mother-fucker-“ You grunt as Wally gets down, tackling you, planting his strong build on top of yours. You let your arms rise above your head in defeat, laughing as Wally sits up, straddling your waist and pointing his gun at your chest.

“You’ve been caught on military ground! Drop your weapon!!” He almost yells, unable to wipe his own grin from his face.

“Alright, Alright! I admit defeat; dinners on me!”

——

You feel Wally’s arm wrap around your waist, kisses pressing to your shoulder as he inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of the food in the pan in front of you.

“Smells amazing.” He murmurs, pressing another endearing kiss on your shoulder. "Smells like victory.” He grins, your eyes rolling as you give him a weak elbow in the ribs.

“Piss off, Wally!”

[trulybetty]

17 x roses | joel x reader

prompt: roses pairing: joel miller x f!reader word count: 888 notes: fluff, no outbreak, no y/n, no reader description, reader has a kid summary: I don't know? You help Joel choose flowers not expecting to run into him again.

x. masterlist

Joel looked around at the vast selection of flowers and it wasn't difficult for him to get overwhelmed with the choice in front of him. He was grateful he’d skipped on the florist down the street because if the grocery store was giving him this much of an issue, he couldn’t imagine what that experience would be like.

Before he could debate on the merits of calling Tommy for advice he heard someone clear their throat behind him, “Excuse me, if I could.”

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” he apologized profusely stepping out of your way.

You were there, trying to reach for a bouquet of tulips that were just a bit too high for comfort. Noticing your struggle, Joel's initial embarrassment from blocking the aisle quickly transformed into a helpful gesture. “Let me get that for you,” he offered, retrieving the bouquet with ease.

“Thanks,” you replied once the bouquet was stashed safely in your cart.

You were about to turn away and carry on with your grocery shop when you noticed the look of confusion on his face as he turned back to surveying the buckets of flowers.

“Can I offer some help in return?” you smiled as Joel’s head whipped to look at you, the look of desperation on his face wasn’t missed.

“Could you?” he laughed, relief on his face, “I have no clue.”

“Well,” you started, taking a step closer to the sea of flowers, “you really can't go wrong with roses. They're classic for a reason.”

Joel looked at the roses, then at you, a spark of interest lighting up his eyes. “I guess you can't argue with classics,” he conceded, “thank you.” the half smile he gave you made you weak at the knees but before anything could happen your phone rang and you groaned when you saw who it was calling.

“Best of luck,” you wished him as you held your phone up in show of your reason for leaving as you hurriedly walked away with your cart.

“Momma!” came a cry from the crowd of kindergartners and it didn’t take long to spot your daughter furiously pushing her hair out of her face, out of the neat braid you’d put it in that morning.

“Ellie!” you called out as she barrelled into your legs, “slow down love.” 

“You’re here!”

You nodded, with work it was hard to do the school runs, you were thankful for those in your life who could help you juggle work life and parenthood.

“I am,” you reassured her, smoothing back a few stray hairs from her forehead. “Did you have a good day?”

Ellie's face lit up, and she tugged at your hand, eager to show you something. “I made something for you!”

“There!” Ellie pointed to a valentine made with an assortment of flowers. The same ones parents had been asked to bring in the day before. 

You remembered the phone call you'd received while in the grocery store, initially thinking it was a reminder about the flowers, only to find out about Ellie's getting into a fight with another child. In defence of another kid, but a fight nonetheless and you’d thought she’d miss out on the holiday festivities. Luckily you’d been able to smooth things over with the principal.

You were about to compliment Ellie on her art when you heard her name being shouted from the other side of the room.

Turning around you saw a bright-eyed kindergartener dragging her parent by the arm towards you and Ellie and looking up you were met with the same eyes from the grocery store the other day.

“Hello again,” you said with a smile meeting Joel’s eyes.

“Hi, I’m Sarah!” she introduced herself breathlessly, barely pausing for a breath before Joel could open his mouth in response, “Dad, this is Ellie, she's the one who told Jackson to leave me alone.”

Ellie, with her characteristic indifference, shrugged nonchalantly. “No big deal, he wasn’t being nice.”

You were about to chime in with caution on getting into playground fights again when Sarah’s father extended his hand to you.

“I don’t think we’ve seen you around here before. I’m Sarah’s dad, Joel Miller,” he said, his voice warm. The half-smile that accompanied his introduction was disarmingly charming, and you found yourself momentarily lost for words.

“I er, um.. I work downtown and usually my parents or my sister-in-law help with drop off and pick up.”

Before the conversation could meander further, Joel glanced at his watch, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Shoot, we've got to get moving. Dinner with Sarah's grandma tonight,” he explained, his tone apologetic.

The mention of leaving seemed to remind Joel of something, and he swiftly fished out a business card from his wallet, handing it to you. ‘Miller Contracting,’ it read. “If you ever need anything, or, uh, maybe we could set up a playdate for the kids? Grab a coffee while they play?” His suggestion was casual, but the hopeful undertone was unmistakable.

You nodded, “I think they’d like that,” but your smile told him that you would very much enjoy it also.

As they prepared to leave, Joel's voice carried back to you, “Oh, by the way, Happy Valentine's!” he called over his shoulder, his smile broadening into a wide grin that had your heart skipping a beat.

[elisela]

since there's no place to go stiles x derek, established relationship, fluff for @missanniewhimsy <3

-

“Snow in the forecast,” Stiles says, face tilted down towards his phone screen. 

Derek shifts a half step back, just enough that their bodies brush as Stiles squeezes by him, and stays silent. It’s the third time in as many weeks that he’s made the announcement; Derek doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they’re probably still several weeks out from the first real snow of the season. He hums noncommittally instead, tilts his head a little when Stiles pauses and drops a feather-light kiss on the back of his neck before moving on to the refrigerator. 

“Supposed to drop into the 20’s,” he adds, and his voice raises unnecessarily when he moves out of Derek’s sight. “Should we get winter tires? We should, right?”

“I’ll pick them up this weekend,” Derek says, because he’s clearly not getting out of this conversation. “Did you put together the emergency kits for the cars?”

There’s a weighty pause. “Uh … yeah, yeah,” Stiles says; Derek rolls his eyes as he pulls the last potato closer and starts dicing it. “I’m just gonna—go check the oil. I think—yeah.”

He waits until Stiles’ footsteps have sounded down the hallway and the garage door swings open to call out, “Don’t forget the gloves!” because they’ve stayed sitting on the front table since Derek dropped them there two weeks earlier. “The kit won’t do you much good if you get frostbite.”

—

Derek ignores the thump and slight sway of the cart as it knocks gently into his hip. He’s got the two air fryers he’s considering on the shelf in front of him, eyeing the differences between the two, and Stiles had gotten bored and wandered off five minutes earlier and had reappeared sporadically to dump things in the cart and leave again. 

It suits him just fine; maybe they’ll be ready to go by the time he makes a choice. 

There’s a louder thump a moment later, followed by Stiles’ muttered curse, but what makes Derek turn around is the clatter of plastic hitting the ground. 

Two neon green sleds are on the ground. The groceries in the cart are hidden by a pile of snow pants and thick packages of wool socks, a winter hat with fuzzy reindeer antlers sitting on top. 

Derek raises an eyebrow. 

“We’ll need sleds when it snows,” Stiles says as he bends down to retrieve them. “I told you the whole reason I wanted the house was for the hill.”

“And the hat?”

“On sale,” Stiles says cheerfully, without an ounce of shame as he snatches it from the cart and jams it on his head, nearly covering his eyes. “It looks great on me.”

Derek shakes his head and turns back to the air fryers. “Do you think we’ll need the dehydrate feature?”

“Just get that one,” Stiles says, pushing into Derek’s space and gesturing to the left. “It’ll look better on the counter.”

“It’s not going on the counter.”

Stiles sounds amused when he says, “Sure it’s not,” and Derek, deciding that’s the hill he’s going to die on, reaches for the one on the right.

—

He’s seven pages from the end of his book when the sound of Stiles stomping up the porch steps and dropping something heavy makes him pause and look up. Stiles’ footsteps head back towards the driveway, and Derek sets his book aside and stands up, back cracking while he stretches and makes his way towards the front hall.

There’s a case of water sitting just to the left of the door; Stiles is carrying another from the car. “Make yourself useful,” he calls, and Derek shakes his head and moves to do just that. 

“Thanks, Boo,” Stiles says after he’s stacked both cases in the pantry, shoved into the corner. His arm slides around Derek’s waist, and Derek turns towards him and wraps him in a hug. “Aww, you missed me.”

“Thought you’d be back a few hours ago,” Derek says, letting him go. “Were you climbing?”

“Yeah, but then I went to the bookstore, lost track of time,” Stiles says; he grabs a box of cheese crackers from the shelf that Derek takes out of his hands and puts back—he’s had dinner in the crockpot all day and can serve it immediately, he doesn’t need Stiles filling up on snacks in the time it takes him to dish out into a bowl. “Rude. Anyway, did you check your email? I was looking into generators and there are some we can hook up to the propane tank so we wouldn’t need to keep gas around.”

Derek looks at the two cases of water he’d just carried in, then at the quickly growing collection of canned food that’s taking over the shelves. Power outages don’t worry him—the heating runs off propane, they’ve got a wood-burning fireplace for backup, and a collection of lanterns that rivals a sporting goods store—but Stiles is clearly trying to control what he can. “Sure, I’ll look at what you sent after dinner,” he says, putting his hand on the small of Stiles’ back and leading them out of the pantry. “How was work?”

—

It’s cold even to Derek’s standards, yet Stiles is standing in the middle of their backyard in short sleeves, head tilted back towards the sky, looking like the weather doesn’t bother him at all. Still, Derek takes a moment to pick up one of the blankets tossed across the back of the couch before he slides his feet into a pair of slippers and opens the back door, breath ghosting out in front of him as he crosses the threshold. 

“My mom used to say we’d catch our deaths standing out in the cold like this,” he says as he gets closer, shaking the blanket out before wrapping it around his husband’s shoulders. “That’s probably more true for you.”

Stiles looks over and grins. “You gonna cluck at me like a mother hen when I tell you I signed us up for the polar plunge next weekend?”

Derek looks skyward and shakes his head. “I told you to stop signing me up for things.”

“I told you I’d stop when you started voluntarily leaving the house,” Stiles says, “yet your calendar remains depressingly empty.”

“I’m too busy responding to all the texts you send me while you’re supposed to be working to look anything up.” Stiles’ hip bumps into his, and he slides an arm around his waist to keep him in place. Derek opens his mouth to say something else, but Stiles is looking up again, a pensive look on his face, so he keeps quiet and stays where he is.

“Think it’ll snow soon?” Stiles asks, long past the time that the cold has covered Derek’s arms in goosebumps.

He looks up at the white sky and breathes in deep, the air cold and sweet in his lungs. “Yeah,” he says, “I think it will.”

—

There’s not much that Derek minds about growing older, except when a middle-of-the-night bathroom trip is unavoidable, and then he feels like he’s on the wrong side of forty. He makes it out of bed without waking Stiles—a feat, especially when their legs are tangled together and Derek’s laying half on top of him—and is in the process of shuffling back down the hallway when movement outside the window catches his eye.

Snow, falling fast in the light of the full moon. It’s already piling up in small drifts on the ledge of the window, and when his eyes adjust he can see that it blankets their backyard, the single strand of Christmas lights along their porch casting a glow all around.

He spends a moment telling himself that Stiles will be happy enough in the morning with it, that he won’t care and doesn’t have to know that Derek had known—then he lets out a soft sigh and turns back towards the kitchen, where he fills two mugs with water and puts them in the microwave before searching the living room tiredly for the slippers he knows Stiles had left out there before going to bed. He gets everything ready before he goes back into the bedroom—glancing out the window first just to make sure it hasn’t stopped—and puts his hand on Stiles’ cheek.

“Hey,” he says lowly, clearing his throat a bit when his voice comes out rough. Stiles turns his head and his lips brush Derek’s palm. “Hey,” he says again, “it’s snowing.”

Stiles takes in a stuttering breath, eyes cracking open. “Huh?”

“It’s snowing,” Derek repeats, keeping his voice quiet in case Stiles decides he’d rather keep sleeping. “Looks like it has been for a bit.”

“Snowing?” Stiles says; he sounds confused, and then his eyes blink open wider. “Wait, really snowing?”

“Really snowing,” Derek confirms, and holds out his hand when Stiles struggles to sit up. “I made tea, if you want to watch.”

Stiles is quiet as they walk down the hallway, but Derek can hear the small, surprised breath that he pulls in when they walk into the living room and the snow becomes visible in the large picture window. He starts towards the couch, but Stiles walks right past it and to the door, pulling it open and stepping outside in his bare feet.

Derek, sighing, scoops up the slippers and a throw blanket before following him out. “Put these on,” he says, letting them fall to the ground and pushing at Stiles gently until he sits down on the porch swing. “You’d complain bitterly in Beacon Hills if it dropped below fifty and now I can’t get you to stay inside.”

Stiles cracks a tired grin. “Yeah,” he says, moving his arms when Derek starts to tuck the blanket around his lap, “but—look.”

He couldn’t care less about the snow. It’s nothing new to him; but there is something about the peaceful look on Stiles’ face that gets to him, and he ducks down to press a kiss to his husband’s cheek before going back into the house and grabbing an armload of blankets—probably more than they’ll need—and making a second trip for the still steaming mugs of tea.

Stiles has arranged a nest of blankets when Derek comes back outside, and as soon as Derek sits down there’s a blanket being drawn across his shoulders. He passes a mug to Stiles and takes a drink of his own, savoring the warm as it goes down, the way the snow muffles all the noise around him, and the feeling of Stiles at his side. 

“S’nice,” Stiles says after a while, just as Derek’s starting to feel sleepiness tug at him. “We should get the sleds and try them out.”

“Not at three in the morning we shouldn’t,” he says, and plucks the empty mug from Stiles’ hands before it can droop any further towards the ground and shatter. “I’m not sure I trust you with that in the daylight.”

“Spoilsport,” Stiles says, his tone sounding fond. “You’re just scared I’ll beat you.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” Derek says. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Five more minutes,” Stiles says, and when he reaches over and links their fingers together, Derek doesn’t protest. 

[hwa-stars]

Skirt lifter (Chapter 9)

Genre: High-school au, slow burning love, fluff, mention of mature language (+14)

Pairing: non idol Park Seonghwa x fem named reader

Summary: In which Park Seonghwa is accused of being a pervert.

Word count: 1.3k

Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling @dinossaurz @babigriin (if anyone wants to be added to the taglist, please comment)

Finally it was the last day of exams and I was confident about my answers, I took a deep breath answers stretched my back and neck.

"Before I send you home, I have an announcement for you." Our teacher mention and everybody groaned. "It's related with the upcoming trip."

My classmates cheered excitedly and I was ready to block his voice, because I wasn't going to this trip until he made the announcement.

"The attendance is now required, now you're dismissed" I groan ans slumped down on my chair.

Everyone left the classroom and I swung my bag over my shoulder ready to leave.

"Hey Pororo!" Seonghwa appeared at the door. "I assumed you did well on your exams based on your bright expression?"

"Damn right she did." Hongjoong nudged me with a smile. "What about you huh? Did you do well on your calculus exam?"

"You bet, thanks to my Pororo." He gave the most awkward laugh.

"Thanks to my Pororo my ass." Wooyoung appeared.

"Hey! I'm a good tutor." I defend myself.

"Oh, I'm not questioning your skills Pororo. The comment was for Seonghwa." He signaled with his head to Seonghwa as we started walking down the hallway.

"Are you heading home?" Seonghwa changed the topic.

"Since when did my things concern you?"

"Longer than you'd think." Yunho met us.

"What?"

"Yunho, how does it feel to be a golden retriever every day?" Seonghwa trew his arm around his shoulder again changing the topic.

All this week has been very confusing, their personalities are confusing me. I didn't know that punching Seonghwa would result in this much confusion.

"Aww, Lee Minseo." Wooyoung caresed my hair and cup my cheeks. "You're the dumbest scholar I've ever met." He looked at me with concern.

"You're the dumbest hear." I defend myself.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Why did you come if you didn't have anything to buy?" I asked Seonghwa as I searched for fruit.

"I had to buy spinach!" He lifted the said thing.

"That's a kale, dumbass"

"It's the same thing."

"And why would you bring them?"

We looked at Yeosang who was happily riding the cart that Hongjoong was pushing as Yunho and Wooyoung filled the cart with lots of food, I'm surprised that security haven't kicked him out.

"They're just hungry." He snatched my cart and began to push it himself.

When I told them that I was going to do some groceries, they were quick to hop on the bus with me.

"Have any of you gone grocery shopping before?"

"What do you take us for?" Seonghwa raised a brow at me.

"Rich, heirs of powerful businessman who gets other people to do the groceries for them?" I explained looking at him.

"That's very judgemental of you Pororo."

"I didn't know ramen was so cheap!" Hongjoong looked at the shelves. "And they come in packs of five each?"

"How can something so good, be so cheap?" Wooyoung take a pack scanning it.

"I'll tell you something better." Yunho came from other aisle. "They have the pancake mix ready!" He lifted the bottle of mix.

"Wow! You only need a pan and it's done." Yeosang read the instruction. "I need this, preparing the batter is too much work."

"You're right, how judgemental of me." I said sarcastically looking at Seonghwa who looked at his friends and sighed.

"And for your information, I'm not an heir of a businessman." Seonghwa huffed.

"Then just rich and that you get people to do your groceries?"

"Exactly."

"Forgive me for making that assumption."

"By the way, it looks like you'd be attending the trip after all." He said looking at a peanut butter.

"Unfortunately."

"Well, fortunately you already have a beautiful scarf from a very generous gentleman." He brushed his hair.

"Yeah, the next thing on my list is take my bug repellent and I'm ready to go."

"You really are going to bring a bug repellent Pororo?" He asked confused.

"Yes, I'm gonna used it against the generous gentleman."

"Aww Pororo, you're such a comedian." He patted my head.

20 minutes later

"I hope your calculus exam went well." I mentioned Seonghwa as we exited the grocery store.

"You really care about me Pororo!" He cooed nudging me with his shoulder since he was carrying some of my groceries bag.

Hongjoong, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang insisted in helping me out with the bags all the way to my home, but somehow Seonghwa make them change their minds and they said they need to go.

I didn't mind them coming over but Seonghwa dragged them to the side, after talking with them. I asked Seonghwa what he told them, he only said that he would help me since he wanted to talk with Jongho.

"Actually no, it's just to prove myself that I'm a great tutor."

"You're a nerd."

"Hey! Maths are fun."

"Exactly what a nerd would say." He rolled his eyes and when continued walking.

"Hand me those, Jongho works here." I gestured the store we where front and extend my left arm.

"You want me to hug you Pororo?" He smirked looking at my extended arm and stepped closer to me.

"And you wanted me to punched your face again?" He laughed.

"I just texted him, he said someone else took his shift." He started walking again.

"When did you texted him?"

"Just now."

"And how?" I asked, he had his hands full and never saw him take his phone out.

"Stop the interrogatory Pororo, let's bring these to your house." He gestured and continued walking.

I mean, I never saw him take his phone out even in the grocery store he never take his phone. How did he said that he texted Jongho?

"What are you thinking about?"

"The fact that I let a pervert carry my groceries."

"If you ask me, he sounds like a gentleman."

"When did perverts become a gentleman?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a pervert Pororo." He exclaimed dramatically like always.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Why did you have to live at the top of a high hill?" Seonghwa collapsed in my sofa.

"I didn't tell you to bring the groceries all the way here, you insisted." I shrugged and take the items to the kitchen.

"Can I at least have some water?" He asked out of breath and I poured him a glass of water.

"You weren't this out of breath when you came last time."

"That's beacuse I've been knocking at your door for 10 minutes and you didn't answer." He inhaled after drinking all the water.

"Yeah, my bad." I walked to the kitchen again and store the items. To my surprise Seonghwa followed me all the way. "You're not leaving?"

"Is this you and your mom?" He asked looking at the photo at the fridge and I nodded.

"You look like her." He scanned the photo.

"Do I still? I was a baby in that photo." I regret asking him beacuse he approached me and stared at me and I just laughed awkwardly. "I probably don't rigth? My mother was famous when she was younger, very sociable, pretty and smart. You know, people always want to be aro-"

"You're beautiful as well." He interrupted me and I could see that he was confused.

"Yeah sure."

"Anyways, where's your mom?" He asked helping me out.

"She'll be home soon, and you should go to your home too." I pointed to the door. "Would you like me to escort you all the way back,my dear prince?" I asked sarcastically.

"Prepare my charriot." He waved his hand.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

It wasn't actually that late, but it was already dark out.

"So you care about me now?" He smirked leaning on the wall.

"Since I'm the last person you were with, I don't want to be acussed when you're found dead somewhere."

"You're blushing Pororo." He laughed.

"It's hot."

"Will you always blame the weather when you blush?"

"Yes."

"See you on the trip Pororo." I only nodded. "By the way, bring the scarf."

"I thought you said you didn't want it back?" I asked confused, he even called me a thief.

"I don't, I'm only asking you to wear it." He smiled at me. "See you later Pororo." He walked away of my house.

[ningningsdream]

the villain in your story | part thirty five

word count: 1.8k

WEDNESDAY NIGHT

after your day at the beach and visiting its area, you separated into two groups. one was going to go grocery shopping and the other was going home to prep for your barbecue and drinking night. during your day, you were talking with minjeong and donghyuck about the best flavor of soju on the market and you were defending the strawberry one with so much passion that you three decided to buy all the flavors available and rank them, hence the drinking night. jaemin, donghyuck and you were going grocery shopping while jimin, minjeong and jeno went back to the house.

donghyuck and you were in charge of gathering the alcohol while jaemin took care of the food. his heart felt a little weird as he saw you giddily running away with his friend to the alcohol section. he tried to push the thoughts that started invading his mind as soon as they started to form and tried to focus on which pork belly cut looked the best.

"woah! it's crazy how many flavors they have!", you exclaimed, eyes sparkling at the sight of the rows of soju bottles standing in front of you.

"jeno just texted me back. we have soju glasses back home.", donghyuck said, after quickly checking his phone, "alright, more money for more alcohol."

"should we get some soft drinks as well?"

"yeah, sure. let me just grab some kgb for jaemin."

"kgb?", you asked, more of a question to yourself. you've heard the name before but couldn't remember if you've tried it or not.

"mmh.", donghyuck nodded, eyes scanning the shelves, "it's the only thing jaemin's taste buds tolerate."

you both skipped your way back to jaemin, arms full of bottles and an innocent smile on your face as if you were kids asking for their mom to buy them candies.

jaemin looked at the amount of alcohol the two of you put in the cart and said, "yall plan to kill your liver tonight or...?"

"don't worry, hyuck thought about you too.", you said, nodding towards the kgb with a smile.

"i'm more worried about you...do i have to carry you on my back again?", jaemin joked, nudging you with his arm slightly.

"yah!", you exclaimed, shoving him playfully.

"what? not my fault you're a lightweight."

"i might be a lightweight but i can drink a lot. you just wouldn't let me drink more the other night. i don't know why it had that much effect though.", you ended with a pout.

"that's because you started drinking on an empty stomach!"

you three finished grocery shopping and drove back to the house. in the car, donghyuck and you were bickering about the soju flavors once again. jaemin wondered when the two of you got this close, if donghyuck knew more about you than he did, if you felt more comfortable with donghyuck than himself. his hands unknowingly grabbed on the stirring wheel tighter, turning his knuckles white as doubts and insecurities started settling in. he pushed his thoughts away once again as he parked his car in front of the house. you three got out of the car and donghyuck almost bolted to the trunk to open it and took all the things that didn't fit in the boxes, which was two bottles of soju and the bag of onions, before running into the house laughing like a five year old because he left you two the two heavy boxes to carry in.

"yah, lee donghyuck!", you shouted at him but in no vain since he already disappeared into the house.

"you can go too. i'll bring the rest in.", jaemin told you, nodding towards the house.

"want me to call jeno to help you?", you teased with a smile, clasping your hands behind your back, reminding him of the texts you exchanged a few days ago.

jaemin rolled his eyes in fake annoyance since his lips still stretched into a smile, "i can handle two boxes."

"you sure about that?", you teased further.

"sure.", jaemin said, turning towards the trunk to retrieve the boxes. he could still feel your eyes on him as he stacked one box on top on the other, "what are you still doing here?"

"mmmh...keeping you company?", you shrugged.

"like you kept donghyuck company yesterday?", jaemin stopped in his movement for a few seconds as he realized what he just said. he didn't intend in making it sound so bitter or even saying that at all. it was just the first thought that came to his head.

"i guess, yeah.", it didn't sound like it but you were confused by why he suddenly brought donghyuck up.

at this point, jaemin told himself that he should probably just ask you what has been on his mind, "do you like donghyuck?"

"mmh?", you exclaimed, taken aback by the question.

"romantically speaking."

"no?", you didn't intend to make it sound like a question but you were just really confused.

"sure about that?"

"why?"

jaemin shrugged, "just don't want history to repeat itself.", he kind of whispered under his breath but you still caught it, "can you close the trunk and lock the car please?", he quickly changed the subject as he carried the two boxes out of the trunk.

"where are your keys?"

"right pocket of my jacket."

you reached in his right pocket to retrieve the car's keys before getting on your tip toes to grabbed the trunk's door and close it. you pushed the lock button and the car made a sound, its lights blinking, indicating that it was safely locked.

you were greeted by jimin and minjeong attacking you into a huge hug as soon as you appeared into the living room, "we missed yooouuu.", jimin exclaimed.

"i was gone two hours.", you stated with a smile.

"that's too much.", minjeong replied.

after that sweet and dramatic reunion, you all started to prepare everything for your dinner. jeno was starting the fire outside, jaemin was preparing the seasoning and marinate for the meat and donghyuck, jimin, minjeong and you were in charge of the vegetables. you cleaned them first with water and then proceeded to sit in a circle around the small living room table, having each a knife and a cutting board, like a little vegetable cutting cult.

"aaah!", you groaned, dropping your knife and shaking your hand.

"woh! what happened?", donghyuck asked, startled by your reaction.

"did you cut yourself?", jimin asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern as she looked at you.

"yeah...", you replied, looking at your bleeding finger.

"who cut themselves?", jaemin asked, his head popping out of the kitchen.

"me.", you said and then winced because minjeong was looking at your finger to see if the cut was deep.

jaemin immediately dropped what he was doing and rushed out to living room, "what happened?", he asked, voice dripping in worry as he saw your finger covered in blood. he slowly grabbed your injured hand to look at the damage himself.

"i was just cutting too fast with one hand and my other hand couldn't keep up."

the three others stayed in retreat, observing the situation as they sent each other knowing looks and smirks.

"i'm gonna get the first aid kit.", jaemin said, walking towards the bathroom.

"it's fine, jaem. i can do it myself.", you argued, following in his steps.

jaemin grabbed the first aid kit out of one of the drawers and opened it, scanning its content with his eyes, "clean your finger with a little bit of water first.", he said to you as he saw you walking in the bathroom.

"i can really do it myself, jaemin.", you said, turning the sink on and washing the lil bit of dry blood off your finger.

jaemin ignored you as he held his hand out after you dried your hand. you sighed in defeat and put your injured finger in his hand. he gently disinfect your cut with some alcohol damped cotton pad which made you winced a little when it came in contact with your open cut. jaemin rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand to soothe you as he made sure to disinfect your cut correctly.

"and done.", jaemin said after putting a band aid around your finger and putting the first aid kit back where it was, throwing away the things he didn't need anymore, "come on. let the others finish cutting the vegetables, you're gonna help me with something that doesn't involve knives.".

he grabbed your hand gently and led you to the kitchen. you let him do, enjoying the feeling of his hand holding yours.

"you don't have to stay outside, you know?", jaemin said to you as he started grilling the meat and vegetables.

"i know, but there's enough people to set the table and i wanted to get some fresh air. even though that air smells a lot like pork belly and grilled peppers right now.", you replied, earning a smile from jaemin.

"how do you like your vacation so far?", jaemin asked as he cut the meat into bite sized pieces.

"it's pretty nice. i don't really want to leave.", you said, looking up at the clouds in the sky. you felt at peace, your head may be confused by certain things but your heart had never felt lighter than in that particular moment.

"me neither.", jaemin said, looking at you through the smoke.

your brain wandered back to when you were taking the groceries in with jaemin as you watched him cook, "can i ask you something?"

"go ahead."

"why would you think i like donghyuck?"

the question took him aback as he stopped in his actions, "i...i just saw you two get pretty close through out the trip so i was just wondering..."

"i see...", you said, nodding your head and clasping your hands behind your back. you approached him from behind as he continued grilling the meat and got on your tip toes to whisper in his ear, "you can just say you were jealous because i'm stealing your friend."

you were giggling like a five year old, proud of her joke when jaemin turned around and lowered his face to your level to look at you in the eyes, "i wasn't jealous because of that."

that shut you right up.

you still maintain eye contact with him even though you really wanted to avert your eyes and shy away but somehow his gaze captivated you. your head refused to turn away.

"is it almost done?", a voice screaming from the house interpellated the two of you as you turned towards the person, "oh.", jeno who realized what he just did and quickly slid the door closed and returned to the living room saying, "shit, i think i just interrupted something.", earning complaints from the three others.

"i think they're starting to get hungry.", you commented.

"you can already bring those in.", he said, motioning to the two plates on the side of the barbecue, "i'll finish those real quick and i'll be right there."

"alright.", you said, taking the two plates jaemin talked about along with you as you got back inside. your heart was still pounding from the memories of jaemin's face so close to yours.

main masterlist | tviys masterlist

pairing: fem!oc x barista!jaemin, fembarista!reader x barista!jaemin

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, barista!au, sns au

summary: girls' code prevents you from liking the guy your friend likes right?

a/n: are you giggling and kicking your feet yet?

taglist: [@glamourizz @rinrinslovebot @beomibeom @moonjobf @hiqhkey @calssunflower @donghyuckster @vianna99 @kookiedesi @baehaechannie @nshimura @thiccfullsun @dear-dreamie @neobowlingshoez @jjaehmins @liliansun @bythe8 @hyuckrec @dearlyminhyung @ohmygs-blog @hoeshi17 @wonupuppy @shan-oldham @jeongintwt @renjunoya @najm00 @sukistrawberry]

prev | next

[nonagesimus]

Hiii for ur birthday prompts can you do something to do with Batman!Dick

thank uuuuu ana, enjoy!!

(AO3 link)

Maybe one day, Dick thinks for the umpteenth time, putting on the batsuit won’t feel like dressing up in his dad’s clothes.

It's funny, knowing the batsuit so well. Dick has seen every iteration of it; he's known every piece of padding, every trick to make the shoulders broader, the silhouette more intimidating. Still, on Bruce the façade never seemed to matter. On him it all seems painfully obvious. The lifts in the boots, the thick armour at the ribs, the arc of the cape. He looks like a kid in one of those stupid foam muscle-suit Halloween costumes.

"Grayson," comes sharply through the air, interrupting his train of thought. "We're behind schedule."

They're not. Insofar as they have a schedule, they're right on time. Still. It's a Robin's job to boss Batman round a bit. Dick had nearly a decade of being the bosser, it serves him right to be on the other side of it now.

"Alright," he says. "You know the route for today?"

"Tt." The kid's standing at attention by the batmobile. Too serious to do anything so base as to lean. "C-Alpha to B-Theta. It's Friday."

Dick hums approvingly, rounding to the driver's side. Fridays are busy, usually. It'll be good. Give him a chance to get lost in the work of it.

Especially since they haven’t had much in the way of real Rogue activity going on. It should hopefully just be muggings and burglaries, and simple things like that. A busy—but easy—night wavers like a dream in front of him as he starts the car and pulls into the tunnel that’ll lead them up from the Bunker. In the passenger side, Damian sits tense and ready. Maybe everything on Dick’s shoulder’s is too heavy, but they can still have a good day.

So, of course, they haven’t even reached their starting point for the night before the police radio starts filling up with something about Killer Croc tearing up Newtown with an angle towards Burnley, and they have to swing north. If anything, Damian’s more eager. Dick’s just tired.

Still. He has to muster up some enthusiasm for the kid.

“I think this is gonna be a whole crock of trouble, don’t you?”

“Tt.”

He grins, pulls into a parking space. Car alarms are blaring in the distance; it’s not too difficult to figure out what direction to head.

“Maybe a roaring good time.”

“Stop.”

“Whaddaya say we scale that apartment building so we can we can get a better look at what’s going on?”

“You’re a disgrace.”

But Damian does lead the way to the top of the apartment building. They get there right in time to watch Croc toss a motorcycle clear twenty feet down the road.

And that’s just the beginning.

They tranq Croc and wait around until a proper retrieval squad with heavy-duty restraints show up to cart him off. Then there’s a shootout in Chinatown with The Lucky Dragons and The Triad. Then a hold up at a 7-11, which feels like it was going to be a return to a normal night, but it turns out to just be a teenager who needs a little talking down, and Dick ends up paying for the groceries he was trying to steal, and letting him know where a good food bank was, while Damian—spoiling for more of a fight—fumes.

“This isn’t what Batman should be,” he says, once they’re back on the rooftops, tone stiff and disapproving.

“Why?” Dick asks, mildly.

There’s still a bit of a division between the idea of Batman and the reality, with Damian. It hasn’t helped that Bruce is—Well. It just means that Dick is failing to live up to what Batman should be. Now that Bruce is gone, Damian doesn’t have to confront Bruce not being what he expected anymore. He can blame it all on Dick. Maybe that idea isn’t fair. The kid’s doing fine. He’s just still adjusting.

“We fight crime,” Damian says.

“Eh,” Dick shrugs. “I like to think of it as we help people.”

Damian scoffs but doesn’t comment more. Really, on the leaderboard of Batman’s Legacy fights, it ranks pretty low.

Part of him wants to counter, to push. To ask about Robin, since he had to have bit more authority on that. Instead he takes them the long way to get back on-route, through all the up and down on the edge of Old Gotham and the Diamond District. Maybe it was just adrenaline and exertion making Damian breathless at the end of the run, but Dick can dream it’s exhilaration too. And that was close enough to talking about it.

He’s about to call it for the night when there’s another call—Upper East Side, this time, a classic mob bar shootout—and when the clean up’s finally done, Dick says, “Maybe Batman stands for overworking yourself, actually.”

Damian sniffs and says, “You simply lack conditioning,” but he’s drooping.

“We can work on it together,” Dick says, dryly. “It’s still time to head back.”

On the drive, Damian falls victim to the time-honoured Robin tradition of falling asleep in the batmobile. He’s subtle enough about it that Dick almost doesn’t notice; just his arms folded, his chin tipping down towards his chest. Dick doesn’t know what he looked like when he fell asleep in the car as a kid. He’d just come to getting scooped out of the seat, barely wake up enough to change out of the suit and shower. Tim he got to carry himself a few times. Kid would sleep through it and they’d end up having to take him all the way upstairs. Jason he only saw it happen once—He’d been talking and Bruce had slowly started to modulate the volume of their conversation down. It’d clicked, and Dick had looked over to see Jason slumped against the door, heavily enough that he’d wondered how they were going to get him out of there—Maybe he could hold the kid up and Bruce could open the door?—but Bruce had pulled into the Cave and Jason had woken up at the sound of the hand brake, blinking to full awareness and acting like nothing had happened.

Dick spends the whole drive back wondering what Damian will do. And what he should do; even if Damian is the stay asleep no matter what’s happening kind of kid, Dick doesn’t think he’d especially want to be carried all the way up to the penthouse. It doesn’t matter because he ends up being more like Jason. Dick pulls the batmobile into it’s space and turns the engine off and Damian opens the door and climbs out so smoothly Dick wouldn’t have known he’d been asleep if he hadn’t seen it.

“You did good today,” he says, as they make their way to the showers.

“Of course,” Damian says, “I’m in peak condition.”

Dick thinks about doing a lot of things. Damian’s still reluctant about what he considers childish, but they’re running at a rate of maybe three out of five times being interested in post-patrol ice cream now that they’ve figured out what kinds of flavours he likes. Dick could suggest they do something tomorrow, which they’d at least get to sleep before. The cape feels like it’s dragging his shoulders down, boots heavy every time he takes a step. Maybe, he thinks, Batman just means doing what you’re able when you’re able.

He ruffles Damian’s hair and says, “Wash up and get some rest, ok?”

Damian says, “You don’t need to micromanage,” but he doesn’t push the hand away that hard.

Dick heads to his own shower, takes off the batsuit, tries to pretend the weight isn’t still there.

[vanfleeter]

Doesn't Stay In Vegas (4) // JTK

Characters: Jake x Cate (oc) Warnings: Angst, fluff, drunkenness, burning things. Author's Note: Tell you one thing, Josh needs to make up his damn mind..

Landing back in Nashville, Jake splits off from the other three and goes back to his own place. Sticking the key in the lock, he twists it and pushes the door open. The stillness and silence of the house consumed his thoughts. Basically what it’s been doing since Cate left him. He hasn’t heard from her. His texts go on unanswered and his phone calls go straight to voicemail.

Bringing his bags upstairs to his room, he dumps by the foot of the bed before collapsing onto his back. Letting out a deep sigh he sits back up and starts to unpack his things, dumping his dirty clothes into a hamper to be washed, putting his toiletries back into the bathroom in their rightful spots, and putting his shoes back into the closet.

Cleaning out the pocket of his duffels, he runs his hand through one when he feels the wedding band. Pulling it out, he stares at it between his index finger and thumb. He sets it on top of his dresser and goes back to the closet to put away the duffel on the shelf. Coming back out he grabs the yellow envelope on the bed and heads downstairs to the kitchen where he tosses the envelope onto the counter. Going over to the drink cart, he pours whiskey into a glass and goes back to the kitchen counter and retrieves a pen from one of the drawers. Taking the papers out of the envelope he sets them on the counter top.

He huffs a breath and clicks the pen as he takes a sip of his whiskey. Bringing the pen down to the first highlighted line on the first paper, Jake signs his signature. —

Josh parks his car in Jake’s driveway and grabs the few grocery bags from the passenger seat before heading up to the door. He opens the door and steps through. “Jake?” He calls. “Where are you at? I brought food, hoping I could cook–” He stops in the kitchen doorway when he sees Jake passed out on the counter. The divorce papers laid out before him, a pen in one hand while the other was wrapped around a glass with a little bit of whiskey left in it.

Setting the grocery bags on the opposite end of the island, he walks over to Jake and gently removes the glass from his hand. Jake slightly flinches before lifting his head.

“How many glasses have you had?” Josh asks as he dumps the rest of the whiskey down the drain and sets the glass in the sink.

“Four.. Maybe five..” Jake shrugs his shoulders. “I lost count..”

Jake lays the pen on the countertop and places the papers back into a neat order before slipping into the envelope.

“Did you sign it all?” Josh asks.

Jake nods his head. “All seven pages….”

Josh spots Jake’s phone on the counter and opened to Cate’s contact. “And you tried calling her? Again?”

“Yeah…”

“And? Did she answer?”

Jake shakes his head. “No…”

Josh nods his head. “Go upstairs and shower while I get dinner started..” He watches Jake slide off the bar stool and stagger over to the stairs before climbing the first couple steps and disappearing from his view.

Stumbling into the bathroom, Jake strips out of his clothes and fumbles with the shower knobs. Once the water was warm enough, he stepped around the shower curtain. His vision still spinning, he slumps against the wall allowing the water to cascade down his body as he closes his eyes and exhales.

He dreams of her. He doesn’t intentionally.

He dreams of touching her, feeling her soft skin along with the pads of his fingers. But he mostly dreams of her smiling and her laughter.

Pushing off the wall, he grabs the bottle of shampoo and squirts some in his hand and lathers it into his hair. When he finishes, he steps out into the cold air and shivers a little as he retrieves a towel from the rack and wraps it around his waist. Going out to the bedroom, he can already smell the food Josh is cooking. Doesn’t know what, but it smells good. He gets dressed in a pair of jeans and tshirt before going back downstairs.

Josh beams at him as he walks into the room. “Finished just in time,” He says. “Salad’s all done, pasta’s done. I’m almost done with the sauce and then dinner will be ready.”

“You cooked spaghetti?”

Josh nods his head. “Easy and comforting.” A small smile forms on Jake’s face. “Ahh, good to see that smile.”

“Have you talked to her?” Jake asks as he pulls dishes out from the cupboards.

Josh stirs the sauce in the pan but nods his head. “Yeah..”

“Right.. So she’ll talk to you but she won’t talk to me…”

“I’m her friend, Jake..”

“I’m her husband!” Jake snaps.

Josh turns the burner off and turns to face Jake. “Jake.."

“I thought you were on my side..”

“I was until I saw how this destroyed you.” Josh says. “I think going through this divorce will be a good thing in the long run.”

“How so?”

Josh shrugs his shoulders. “I think that in the time you two spend apart, you’ll figure out what it is you want and if what you want is each other, then the two of you can start from the beginning–the right away.”

“So is this your long version of telling me that if I let something go and it comes back it’s meant to be and if it doesn’t, then it was never mine?”

Josh shrugs his shoulders and nods his head. “Yeah, sort of.” He plates the food and hands one off to Jake. “Now go eat.” —

Two Weeks Later

__

Parking his car on the side of the street, he glances towards the diner. Running his hands down his face, he reaches for the yellow envelope and gets out of the car. Stepping inside of the diner, he looks around until he spots her sitting in the corner by the window. She sips on her coffee as she scrolls on her phone.

Walk over.

Drop it off.

Leave.

He takes in a deep breath before approaching her table. Walk over. Check. Not to drop off the envelope. She looks up at him before placing her phone on the table. “Hi..” She breathed. He gives her a tight lipped smile, as fake as he could make it, and sets the envelope on the table. Drop it off. Check.

“I signed all of it. Harry will be in his office all week until five o’clock so you can drop those off whenever you’re finished.” He turns on his heels to walk away when she calls out to him. He stops in the middle of the diner. Don’t turn around. Don’t be stupid. Just keep walking. He goes to walk off again but this time he feels her grab his hand. He stays facing away from her and clenches his jaw to keep himself composed.

“Please stay, let’s have coffee..”

She wants to have coffee? Don’t give in. Make up an excuse and get the hell out of there.

He clears his throat and pulls his hand away. “I can’t.. I have something to do..”

Lies. But she doesn’t know that.

Walking away from her, he pushes the diner door open and heads back to his car. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he pulls out his phone and dials a number. He inhales. “Hey.. Are you busy?” He says, his voice shaking.

“Jacob, baby, what’s wrong?”

He slides on his sunglasses and pulls the car out of the space. “Mom, I screwed up.”

“Does it have anything to do with the Vegas wedding?” She says. “Thanks for the invite by the way.” He sighs and grips the steering wheel. “Oh Jacob, I’m only joking. What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to divorce her…”

“But..”

“But she doesn’t want to be married to me.. She doesn’t even love me..”

“Well, honey, you can’t force her to stay.”

“I’m not.. I already gave her the papers..” It was quiet on her end. “Mom?”

“I’m still here.”

Jake huffs. “Just come out and say it, you know you want to.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m an idiot.”

“Jacob, honey, you’re not an idiot.” She says. “So you didn’t exactly use your head but you’re not stupid.”

“And?”

“That if you love her, you should have pursued her the right way. Not getting drunk and being married by an Elvis impersonator. If I’m being honest, I would have pegged Josh to be the one to do that.” A small chuckle emits from Jake and his mom giggles. “I made you laugh, score one more Mom.”

He groans. “Moment’s ruined now.”

She laughs. “Alright honey, go home and rest for a while.”

“Mom, I don’t think a nap is going to fix this..”

“No, it won’t but it will make you feel slightly better and eat something too.” He hears yelling in the background before his mother sighs. “Jacob baby, I have to go. Your father got himself in a little bit of a pickle. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Jacob, I promise this won’t last forever, okay?”

“Yeah..”

“Bye sweetie.” —-

Catie sits in the diner, staring out of the window. She twists the diamond ring around on her finger. He wasn’t wearing his. When she held his hand for a brief moment, she saw his ring missing from his finger.

Pulling her eyes away from the window, she looks down at the envelope. His words echoed in her head. ‘I signed all of it.’ His voice was so blunt when he spoke. How bad did she hurt him?

But she could see the pain in his eyes. After one mistake they made, he was the one to fall in love. Picking up the envelope, she slides out of the booth and drops a twenty on the table to cover her bill and enough for a tip. Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out to see Josh calling.

“Hey..” She answers as she slips into her car.

“Hey, have you spoken to Jake yet?”

“Briefly.. He dropped off the papers and left..” She flings the envelope into the passenger seat before sticking the key in the ignition and turning it. “He took his ring off..”

“Yeah.. He hasn’t worn it since you left..”

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think this is the right thing to do?”

She can hear him breathe in before he exhales. “Yes.. I do.. However, I also want you two together, but doing it the right way–that is if you feel the same way he does..”

Catie leans her head back against the headrest of her seat. “That’s a lot to figure it out.”

“Actually it’s pretty simple.” Josh says.

“Not for me..”

Josh sighs. “And why not?” He says. “He loves you.”

“Josh…”

“Just hear me out, Cate…” Josh goes quiet before talking again. “At first, you were nothing to him but a friend, he only saw you as my best friend. But after drunkenly marrying you, he started to fall in love with you. Cate, he was in tears when he admitted it to me and you know how Jake is, he doesn’t like to show how vulnerable he is.” Catie pulls her head off the headrest. “Some people think it takes months or even years to fall in love but people don’t realize that it can take mere days to fall in love. Jake is the exception to that.”

“Josh..”

“You have two options here. You can sign the papers,” He continued. “And start from the beginning–o-o-or, you can not sign the papers, stay married, and fall in love.” He gasps. “Oh! I have to write this down, it could be turned into a great movie someday.”

You scoff. “Joshua, you are not writing a film script on this.”

He chuckles. “Modern day version of The Notebook.”

“Oh shut up..” She says, making him laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” He says. “Please?”

“Alright, I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” He sighs. “I have to go now.” He says before hanging up.

Arriving back at her apartment, she drops down on the couch and kicks off her shoes. Her attention gravitates over to the wine rack across the living room space. Dragging herself off the couch, she goes over to the wine rack and pops the cork on the bottle on the top shelf and lifts it to her mouth before taking a long drink of it. She winces as the bitter taste flows down her throat.

Who needs a glass?

Hearing his phone buzzing on the kitchen counter, Jake turns away from the sink and wipes his hands on the nearest dish towel. Leaning over the counter he sees Cate’s name flashing on the screen of his phone.

Why would she be calling? But he answers it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Oh hi Jake!” She giggles. “I was hoping you would answer!”

“Cate, are you okay?”

“Oh pfft, I’m good!” She giggles before hiccuping.

She’s definitely drunk. “Cate, are you day drinking?” He asks as he leans on the counter.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Mmm, yeah, you’re drunk.”

“Maybe just a little.”

“Please tell me you’re at home.”

“Oh, well I was… But after getting through one bottle of wine, I decided I needed something a li-i-i-ittle bit stronger.” She takes in a breath as she falls against the brickwall of the bar hallway. “So I went to the bar and oh my gosh, I had such an interesting call with Josh earlier..”

“Cate, what bar are you at?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“Very good, Jake. You’re so smart. I love that you’re so smart–and you’re pretty. Did you know you’re pretty?”

“I’m coming to pick you up.”

“No! Don’t Jakey! I’m having fun!”

“Catherine, I’m coming to get you.” He says before hanging up, not letting her have a chance to protest again.

It didn’t take him long to find her. He knew exactly where to find her. A bar that they frequently visit as a group. Opening the door to the bar, he walks over to the counter and waves his hand to get the bartender’s attention. He nods his head and walks over to Jake as he wipes out a glass with a rag.

“Very rare seeing you here during the day,” He says. “What can I get you?”

“I was actually hoping you saw Catie in here?” He asks.

The bartender nods his head and sets the glass on the counter. “She’s outside with Kasey. She needed fresh air.”

Jake drums his fingers on the counter top and nods his head. “Thanks.” Pushing off the bar, he makes his way towards the back of the bar and into the hallway. Sliding past a couple making out against the wall, he awkwardly apologizes before pushing open the back door and stepping out into the alleyway.

He finds Catie bent over beside the dumpster as she heaves all the contents from her stomach. Kasey inhales when she sees Jake. “Thank god you’re here.” She says.

He walks over and replaces her hand with his and holds Catie’s hair away from her face. “I’ve got it from here.”

“A little tip that you can give her when she’s sober. Don’t mix your drinks.”

Jake nods his head. “Noted.”

Once Catie was finished, he gently loops his arms beneath her shoulders and helps her to his car. When her eyes open and settle on him, a smile spreads across her face and she places her hand on his cheek.

“Hello my beautiful husband.” She giggles. Don’t call me that. “Have you come to rescue me?”

He pushes her feet into the car and buckles her in. “Let’s get you home.”

Stumbling into her apartment, her hanging on him as she laughs, he staggers on his feet as he tries to bring her to her bedroom. Nudging the bedroom door open with the toe of his boot, he brings her over to the bed and lays her down. She bursts into laughter as she sprawls out across the mattress. He fights to gain control of her feet that she swings them from side to side in the air above her, and takes her shoes off when he gets ahold of them.

She grabs hold of his hands and pulls him down on top of her as she giggles. “You really are pretty..” She says as she runs her hands through his hair.

“And you’re really drunk.”

She giggles and nods her head. “Just a little bit.”

He pulls himself off of her and sits her up. “Come on, we should get you changed into something more comfortable.”

Catie pouts and drops her head. “But I like this dress.. Can I please stay wearing it?” She tugs on the hems of his shirt and still pouts out her bottom lip as she looks up at him. “Please Jakey?”

“Yeah, fine..” He sighs.

“Aw thank you baby..”

She’s drunk. She won’t remember this later.

Crawling into the middle of her bed, she slips underneath the covers and rests her head on the pillow. She pats the space beside her. “Come lay with me.”

Jake shakes his head. “I have to go.”

“No, please?” She begs as she holds out her hand towards him.

“Catie, I don’t think this is a good idea..”

“Just for a little bit.. Please?”

“I really shouldn’t..” He says as he drops his head. “I have to go.”

“But Jake..”

“I’m sorry..” He says before stepping away from the bed and turning to walk out of the room. —

She doesn’t even remember falling asleep until she opens her eyes again to find her room engulfed in darkness. The only source of light is the moon shining in through the blinds on her window. Sitting up in bed, she groans at the slightest headache.

“There’s aspirin and water on the table..” She hears a voice speak from the corner of her room. Looking over and squinting her eyes to see better in the dark, she sees someone sitting in the chair by the window.

“Jake?”

The head of the silhouettes shakes from side to side. A hand reaches for the lamp and switches it on. Josh.

“Josh? What are you doing here?”

“Jake called, said he brought you home drunk this afternoon–he didn’t want you to be alone.”

So I went out this afternoon and he did pick me up. Reaching for the aspirin pill on the table and the glass of water, she downs the both of them before putting the glass on the table. Josh stands up from the chair and walks over to the bed where he proceeds to sit down beside her.

“Why’d you do it?” He asks.

“Do what?”

Did I do something other than getting drunk?

“Get drunk.”

Oh good. Maybe I didn’t do anything else.

Catie lays back against the pillows and looks at the ceiling fan hanging above her. “I guess I felt like it..”

Josh rolls his eyes. “Come on, Catie. I know you better than that. You didn’t do it because you felt like it.”

“Because you got into my head and the wine looked good..”

Josh chuckles. “And the wine wasn’t enough?”

“Apparently not..” Catie says as she pulls herself out of bed and heads for the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” Josh says as he follows after her. He watches as she picks up the yellow envelope and pulls the papers out. “You’re hungover and you’re gonna sign those?”

“Nope..” She goes over to the living room and grabs the lighter off of the fireplace mantel. Holding it up to one of the corners of the papers, she ignites the flame and burns the paper.

“Woah! Woah! Stop!” Josh says as he lunges himself at her and grabs the papers. He drops them to the floor and stomps them out. “What are you doing?!”

“I don’t want to sign them..”

He looks up at her as he holds the slightly burned papers in his hands. “What are you saying?” He says standing up. “You want to stay married?” She nods her head. “But you–”

“I know!” Catie exclaims. “But you got into my head and I kept thinking about it which kind of stressed me out which then led to me downing a whole bottle of wine and half a bar,” She inhales deeply. “I called Jake on a whim, not thinking he’d actually show up–”

“Well he does love you, he’d do anything to make sure you’re safe.”

“Yeah but.. When he brought me home.. I asked him to stay–well, I didn’t exactly ask, more like begged–and he said no..”

“And..”

“And I felt a little disappointed.” She sits down on the couch and leans forward on her knees. “I wanted him to stay.”

Josh nods his head and walks back over to the mantel and picks up the lighter. “Once I relight this, there is no going back.”

Catie nods her head. “Do it.”

A smile spreads across Josh’s face as he flicks on the flame. —

Flipping the steak in the pan to sear the other side, Jake turns away from the stove and pours a little more whiskey into his glass before taking a drink. Hearing the doorbell ring, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. He pulls the towel from his shoulder and drops it on the counter before going to answer the door.

Standing there on the porch is Catie. She holds a bag of food in one hand and a wine bottle in the other.

“I don’t mean to sound rude but, what are you doing here?” He says as he leans against the doorframe.

Catie takes a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

“Okay..” He slowly steps aside to let her in.

“Are you cooking?” She says.

“Yeah.. Wasn’t really expecting of having anyone else over so–”

“Oh that’s okay!” Catie beams.

What is happening right now? Why is she like this?

“So um..” Jake clears his throat. “What did you want to talk about?”

Catie sets the food and wine on the table and turns around to face him. “Don’t kill me..”

“What did you do?”

“Well, more like what did Josh and I do?”

Jake holds up his hand in front of him motioning for her to stop. He walks over to his whiskey glass and downs what is left inside of it. “Okay..” He clears his throat. “What did you two do?”

“We burnt the divorce papers..”

“You did what?!” Jake exclaims. “What–Why–How–Help me out here..”

“Well earlier today.. I was plastered..”

He nodded his head. “In a manner of speaking.”

“But when I asked you to stay and you said no, I was kind of upset..”

“You were drunk so..”

“But I wasn’t when I told Josh.. I still felt a little disappointed.”

“And why did you feel disappointed?”

Running a hand through her hair, she looks down at her feet. “I was a bitch for leaving you like that–back in Vegas… I think the reason I left so suddenly and freaked out was because–truthfully–I was sort of falling in love with you and I was too scared and I didn’t know what to do so I left..”

“And ghosted me for a few weeks..”

Catie cringes. “I’m sorry..”

“So you burned the papers..” He says. “What exactly does that mean?” He pours whiskey into his glass. “Do you not want to get a divorce?” He takes a drink before turning back to the stove to remove the steak from the pan and sets it on a plate.

“I don’t if you don’t.”

He carries the plate over to the counter and sets it down before grabbing an extra plate from the cupboard and a knife. “How about we share this steak and discuss what we’re gonna do?” He says, a small smile tugging at his lips.

___________________________________________________________

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[two-crabs]

The last birthday party Kieran had thrown was back in Idaho, over a decade ago. It was for one of his great-aunts. She was an unpleasant, childless old woman, for whom Kieran was forced to retrieved mail and rake leaves and deliver groceries, because no one else could stand to be in the same room as her. He’d held it in the basement of their church, themed it around “spring flowers,” furnished it with his own paper route money, and invited any congregant who could be bothered to stick around after services.

They ended up splitting the cake four ways: Kieran, his aunt, and his parents. 

Kieran told Mai this story between breaths, as he hyperventilated in the bakery section of their local Whole Foods. 

“I just—I don’t know…is this a stupid idea?” Kieran looked down at Mai, his eyes huge and pleading, like a kicked puppy. “Does Rhys even like cake?” 

Mai leaned on the handle of a packed grocery cart, rubbing reassuring circles into Kieran’s back with their free hand. “No, of course not. He takes his coffee black and burns his bagels. But you can’t have a party without cake, right?” 

“Oh my god, this is so stupid, he’s gonna hate this—” And Kieran, face in his hands, started wandering forlornly towards the produce department. 

“Hey, fuck, wait!” With all the effort required to turn a shipping barge, Mai hauled the cart around and pushed it after Kieran, who was pacing anxiously up and down the aisle of exotic fruits. They stood at the end, obstructing access to the kiwis, and let him have a moment. Kieran, with his black hoody and black joggers—both of which Mai knew for a fact he ironed—looked like someone who wasn’t allowed to have anxiety. He was too tall and handsome and toned for that. In the nine months they’d known him, Mai had watched him break up three bar fights, change a stranger’s tire, find a lost dog, and extinguish a small garage fire before they could even call 911. He was friendly, goal oriented, generous, and unflappable—except when it came to Rhys. 

Eventually, Mai walked over and grabbed him by the sleeve. 

“Kier, look at me.” And when he did, Kierans eyes were red and the corners and his lip was trembling. “Rhys is going to like this party, because you did it for him, okay?”

“Mai, I don’t know—”

“Shh—shut up.” Mai grabbed him by the chin and brought his face towards theirs. “You take the next ten minutes to just walk around the store one more time, and find something that’s not cake that you think Rhys would like, okay? Nod if you’re following me.” He did. “And I’m gonna take the cart back to the bakery and get whatever the most obscene, expensive thing they have, so we all have something to put on Instagram. Nod again.” 

Kieran did, and then a middle aged woman with a dog in her cart cleared her breath loudly at them, and the two of them straightened. 

“Alright, meet you back at the register in ten, got it?” They patted Kieran’s cheek and he chuckled, then took a deep breath. 

“Sounds good. And break!” And Kieran jogged off out of sight. 

“Woo, sports!”  Mai punched the air, and wheeled the cart back around towards cake. 

---

“Remember, trivia starts at eight-o-five, so try to get there at eight, exactly, okay?” Mai was in the apartment bathroom, combing product through their hair, trying to get to look like literally anything other than a cockatoo, and failing miserably. 

Rhys leaned over the back of the couch to stare at them from around the corner. “Right. Eight-o-five. A very normal time for things to start.” 

“I dunno, man, I’m not in charge. Oh—” Mai whipped around, sending a glop of styling gel flying. “And wear something nice to, uh. Intimidate the other players.” 

“I’m assuming by ‘other players’ you mean, you, Kieran, and all the other losers who had nothing better to do on a Friday night, right?” 

“Exactly.” They smeared the gel off the bathroom door and rubbed it into their hair. “Is this anything?” 

“Jesus, relax.” Rhys yawned and went back to his book. It was as thick as a dictionary, with a black and white picture of a crying man on the cover. Very much his style. “Are you trying to pick  someone up at my p—uh, at ‘trivia night?’” 

Rhys knew. 

Mai knew that Rhys knew because he was observant and they were unsubtle. It was completely unsurprising that the meticulously planned surprise party…wasn’t. What was surprising was that he hadn’t said anything about it. Mai was certain that Rhys would’ve objected if they’d told him outright that Kieran was doing something for him, but despite the increasing brazenness of Mai’s questioning and Kieran’s social media sleuthing, they’d made it to the night-of without Rhys putting his foot down. 

It warmed Mai’s heart, just a little. 

“…No, I just think that…the people organizing trivia…probably put a lot of work into…the trivia. And I think they would appreciate it if…we dressed up. For it. The trivia.” Mai stepped into the living room and held their arms out. “So. How do I look?” 

Rhys dropped his book and tilted his head to the side, considering. 

“You look like a sailor on a vintage can of sardines,” he said, flatly. “If they were also apprenticing to be a drag king at the cheapest bar in town.” 

Mai held a hand to their chest and gasped. “That might be the…nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

Rhys rolled his eyes, but smiled a little bit, licking one of his fingers to turn a page. For a half second, Mai’s stomach churned at the thought that maybe this whole idea had been a mistake. 

Rhys was an obstinately independent person, who loved control, order, and predictability. He didn’t like when people did things for him; they were never going to do it as well as he would. He enjoyed going out to find beautiful strangers to worship him for a night, but he relished even more coming home, donning his long brocade bathrobe, popping a gummy, and listening to an audiobook about a dead gay poet. It was painful, sometimes, to see him around Kieran—who wanted to do everything for everyone—and watch him begrudgingly allow himself to be cared for. 

Mai hoped, desperately, that this wasn’t going to scare Rhys back into himself. 

“Okay well, I’m going to head over early and help Kieran, uh. Um…” 

“Find a good table?” Rhys offered without looking up. 

Mai snapped, and pointed a finger gun in Rhys’s direction. “Bingo, exactly. You got it. Cool.” They cleared their throat. “So. Eight. I’ll see you then, right?” 

“Mhm.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, yes, yes…” 

Mai opened the door, but paused at the top of the stairs. “Um. And just, uh. Do me a favor?” 

“Now you’re pushing it, Byrd.” 

“Seriously, just…be nice?” 

Rhys put the book down again, and met Mai’s eye across the apartment. He stared at them through his eyelashes, and they could see the tip of his tongue bitten between his front teeth. Finally, he took a breath and said, “Yes, Mai. I promise to be nice. At trivia.” 

-- 

The bad news was that Kieran really did only know how to throw one kind of birthday party. The good news was that, this time, he had a much bigger budget and Mai’s design sense to help him. 

In three hours, the two of them had covered every flat surface in the back room of their local bar/cafe/listening room/used book store/poetry dungeon/whatever with thousands of flowers. It turned out that after they’d left Whole Foods and dropped Mai back at the apartment, Kieran had gone to two more stores and wiped them clean of anything worth buying. There wasn’t much in the way of other decorations—a cluster of blue and violet balloons floated lamely in each corner—but there didn’t need to be. It was gorgeous. 

And so was Kieran, even though he was pacing around the cake table and chewing on a thumbnail. Mai dragged themself away from the finger sandwiches to stand near him. 

“Hey—” and Kieran jumped a little. 

“Oh! Hi…”

“It looks good, Kier. He’s gonna love it.”

“But what if he doesn’t come?” 

“Oh, don’t worry. Rhys always comes.” Mai elbowed him in the ribs and chuckled a little, but Kieran just stated at them wide-eyed. “Sorry, sorry, uh. Relax. He’s absolutely going to show. We still have three minutes til eight, and I told him to be punctual.” They grabbed Kieran’s lapels—black jacket over black shirt, unbuttoned one button past respectable—and then smoothed them down again. “And Sammy is out front ready to give me the signal when he sees him coming up the block.” 

Sammy and Claudia Iglesias ran the convenience store down the street from Rhys’s shop. They came in for candles, an occasional tarot reading, and to bring Rhys food on holidays, or when they thought he looked like he needed some mothering. In return he bought all of his necessities from them, and once scared a burglar out of their store with nothing more than a baseball bat and some violent Welsh cursing. The guests at the party consisted of them, a handful of Rhys’s most loyal clients, a few people Mai had met through the local music scene, and an enormously buff woman Kieran introduced as his “gym buddy.” There was also a child of eleven or twelve (maybe? Mai was no good at guessing these things) who kept menacing the cake, and it was unclear whether he belonged to someone at the party, or one of the patrons at the cafe. 

Whatever. The more the merrier. 

Kieran took a deep breath, then let it out, and only then did Mai notice the white bakery box in his hands. 

“Uh, whatcha get him, Kier?” 

Kieran blushed, and bit his lip.

“Um. It’s silly, but, uh…” And when Kieran opened the box, there was a perfect red pomegranate sitting on a cupcake wrapper, with a candle stuck in the blossom end. “I’d never had one before I met him. The first time he made me breakfast…he taught me how to cut one open and he was careful but he still got juice all over his fingers and, uh…” Kieran went dark pink then, all the way up to his ears. Even Mai felt a little warm under their collar. 

Then their phone chirped in their pocket. 

“Oh my god, it’s Sammy, he’s here.” They turned to face the room, and hollered, “Missile incoming, places everybody!” 

Mai took a lighter out of their back pocket and lit the pomegranate candle, just as Claudia turned down the lights. They took Kieran’s big beautiful face in their hands. “You’re perfect, don’t forget that. Rhys doesn’t…” Kieran was smiling back at them, huge and smitten and grateful. “You deserve each other. Now,” and Mai turned Kieran towards the door before smacking him on the ass. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

[burninlovebutler]

09 - Thanksgiving Pt. 1 | Forever Winter | a.b x oc

warnings: fluffy?, cursing, knife, blood, knife cut, 18+ always

09/? - chp summary: elsie & austin make a last ditch effort to salvage a forgotten thanksgiving

see masterlist/summary for background info & chapter log

𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, "𝙾𝚑, 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍, "

𝙿𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚋𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

-ELSIE-

"Oh shit."

With all the commotion with Nox last week, it had slipped our minds about what was coming up.

"What?" Austin engrossed in some game that had just come out.

His fingers rapidly and diligently working on the controller buttons. His long fingers clicking the sides, his thumb swirling a joystick. The way he was so focused, so determined. There was something so enticing about it. It made me wonder how it would feel—

Maybe I had been away from Nox too long.

I hadn't complained about his time spent on it all week because I would just observe him. I'd lay on the couch next to him. Start by reading some book, but my eyes drifted up to watch him. The book was a good cover. Although my not so innocent book choices really did not help.

"Thanksgiving is tomorrow." I sat up.

He immediately paused his game, "Oh shit. How the fuck did we miss that?"

The sun was already beginning to lower across the concrete skyline. Dark orange and yellow rays spread over clouds. If there was any hope at salvaging a Thanksgiving, it had to be now.

"We have to go to the store or something." I liked holidays sure, but I needed this. I needed something good. I couldn't be kicked out of my home and do nothing on Thanksgiving.

"Where are we gonna get a fucking turkey at this time? On Thanksgiving eve?"

He was right, where were we going to get any food now. I twirled a piece of hair around my finger in thought. The coarseness of the strand reminded me that I needed more than man conditioner. The baggy shirt and sweatpants reminded me that I had no clothes here. Suddenly my life's mission became shopping.

"I don't know, but we have to go."

-

We decided that the best course of action would be to take a subway out of the city. Near our old college town. The grocery stores there were prepared for last minute twenty-year olds having their first thanksgiving away from home. And the clothing stores were cheap.

While this wasn't our first Thanksgiving together, it was the first one we had been this late for. We spent most holidays together, especially after his dad passed. I wouldn’t want to go home to my mom, and he wouldn’t want to see his either.

After rushing into a random clothing store and grabbing anything that was cheap and cute, we headed to our old bodega. I pushed a teeny cart through the cramped store. The metal buggy creaked across the linoleum floor. It was filled with whatever was left from the picked over holiday foods. Air was sweet, filled with the aroma of left-over pastries. Shelves and racks stocked with Spanish candies and snacks. I used to love coming here to pick out fruit you couldn't find in the city.

"Look what I found!" Austin held up a turkey so small it could've been a chicken.

"C'mon that thing is so tiny, there's barely any meat on it."

He stepped towards me making the bound turkey dance, with a cartooned voice, "Take me home Elsie, I have no where else to go for Thanksgiiiiving."

"Austin we don't have time for this." I gave him an impatient look.

"C'mon, I wanna go home with you and Auuustin." The turkey danced in front of my face. "I'm the only one left, I don't wanna be alooone."

Austin behind the bird with puppy dog eyes and a pouted lip. It was refreshing to see him like this. I missed this Austin. Bright, soft, golden retriever energy Austin.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes and give in with a smile, "Fine."

A wide childlike grin spread across his face, "You hear that Jerry? You found a home!"

"Well tell Jerry to grab some cranberry sauce so we can go."

-

We pulled an all nighter trying to prepare anything that needed preparing in advance. The sun peaked over the tall buildings and warmth filled the cold loft.

I weakly lifted my head from the decorative white pillow, quickly sheilding my eyes from the burning sunlight. I must've fallen asleep.

Through squinted eyes I followed the noises that flooded my freshly awoken ears. City sounds rang from the streets, taxis honking, people cheering. Similar sounds played on the large flat screen mounted to the wall. The Macy's Day Parade, in all its annoying glory.

We started that tradition in irony one year since the parade takes place not far from us. The year after that we actually went, and it was one of the worst experiences of our lives. So, now we just watch it. Out of spite I suppose. Even if we spent the holiday apart, we'd make sure to watch it.

Out of all the overly capitalized corporate holidays, Thanksgiving was arguably the worst for what it symbolized at its core. So obviously we weren’t celebrating that, just the food.

"Morning sleepy head." Austin chimed from the kitchen, some video on how to make stuffing played on his phone. He was definitely the better cook than me.

"I don't even remember falling asleep." I yawned with a much-needed stretch, rolling out the cracks from my couch nap.

"You could've woken me up, I could've helped more."

"It's okay, I got it under control." His eyes not reaching mine, his hands busy with whatever food he was working on. The sleeves of his black long sleeve pulled up mid-forearm. There was something so attractive about it.

It almost distracted me from noticing his laser sharp focus. And... energy? Had he also taken a nap?

I tugged on the cuff of another baggy long sleeve of his. I bought new clothes, but I somehow forgot PJs.

Maybe it wasn't so accidental. His clothes were comfy. They smelled like him, his detergent, his woodsy cologne. Using his body wash helped too. It helped me sleep. Something about it made me forget I wasn't home.

I wasn't home.

What was Nox doing today? On Thanksgiving? Was he alone? Did he go visit his family? Without me?

I was supposed to meet them today and now I wasn't going to. What were they going to think of me? What was he going to tell them?

Crossing the threshold of the living room into the kitchen. I remained silent watching him cut carrots as thoughts filled my head. I wanted to focus on Nox but instead I observed the way his fingers gripped the strips. That was until I noticed his speed, almost hyper. I followed his toned arms up to his face. His focus so strict on his actions. Sweat covered his forehead, which was odd since the loft was freezing.

My fingertips tapped the bar counter subconsciously.

"What's up?" His eyes finally lifted from his hands.

I hesitated, tugging at a chunk of my inner cheek.

"Do you think I should call Nox?"

His discontented expression told me that it was a stupid idea. His half-healed bruised eye told me it was a stupid idea.

It was, in fact, a stupid idea.

"I just – I just feel bad, maybe he's alone? No one should be alone on Thanksgiving." Word sped out of my mouth, like if I said it quick enough, he'd agree with me.

"Els, has he texted you?" A propped brow above his darkened eye, "He kicked you out. It doesn't seem like he cares if you're alone on Thanksgiving."

"Yeah." My gaze lowered to my fingers as they fidgeted.

He was right. He didn't care. But I did. That was the problem. He hurts me and I loved him just the same. He did shitty things, but I knew the good parts of him. When he was good, it felt amazing. Our love seemed so strong then. I clung onto those moments, those were the real him. Right? He just had problems. We all have problems, right?

But then again if I left, Austin would be alone on Thanksgiving. I didn't want that either. We had all the food already anyway. I needed a good Thanksgiving.

"Yeah, you're right. It's stupid." I looked up at him, "I just love him so much, ya know? Haven't you ever loved someone that makes you just... crazy?"

His blue eyes stayed on mine. I expected a reply but it never came. His gaze turned to something I couldn't place. Somber? Confused? Disinterested? It seemed like there was something he wasn't saying. Or something he couldn't say.

He'd been so off lately. I used to be a master at reading him, but recently he's been so distant. Puzzling. Complicated. It almost seemed as though he put on different masks with me, when I least expected it. His poker face had gotten good and I didn't like it.

"No, I can't say I have." His words simple, to the point. Quick and sharp like a dagger.

Austin returned his attention to cutting, now grabbing a celery stalk. His already quick speed only increased. If I didn't know better that celery stick was his arch nemesis. He went faster. His cuts so rapid that the ultra-thin slices became mush. He went faster.

Faster.

Faster.

In a flash the sharp knife sliced through skin.

"Fuck!" He immediately dropped the knife and grasped his hand.

It all happened so fast. My eyes widened as his finger began to gush blood. I rushed around the kitchen bar.

"Fuck Austin." The paper towel tower nearly rolled empty when I hastily collected a mountain of sheets.

"Aust, why would you do that?" Dabbing his finger gently then wrapping the paper towels around it.

"I didn't fucking do it on purpose Elsie." Snapping at me, my name sounded vile in his mouth.

I scrunched my eyebrows, watching him completely perplexed. It caught me off guard. He never talks like that, especially not to me. He must really be in pain for him to react like that. I encased my hand around the covered finger and squeezed in an attempt to halt the bleeding.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, wincing at the pain.

Austin ripped his hand from mine, replacing the pressure.

"I can fucking take care of this myself, thank you”

What the fuck was that about?

I could handle Nox talking to me like that, but Austin? Absolutely not - kind of. It was still difficult but maybe it didn't keep me quiet because I knew he wouldn't leave me.

"You don't have to fucking talk like that to me." I snapped right back at him.

He glared at me, "I don't need you protecting me like some wounded animal."

"Jesus Austin, I was just trying to help. Why are you being such a fucking dick?"

He turned and continued to nurse his finger.

"What the fuck ever. I'm gonna go shower." I huffed, leaving the room.

Previous Chapter: 09 - Of Course I do

Next Chapter: 10 - Thanksgiving Pt. 2

[bambirex]

Yenralt plz. Car sex, dirty talking, teasing

This is my first time writing actually explicit m/f smut, so I apologize if this is a little clumsy!

Warnings: semi-public sex, dirty talk, teasing, riding, fingering

**

They could have done this in an empty parking lot at night, under the protection of the darkness where they wouldn't have had to worry about being discovered. But, of course, that would have been way too easy, and they liked taking risks way too much- not to mention the horniness that clouded their judgment.

This was supposed to be a simple grocery run, but Yennefer wanted to spice things up a little. It started with her wearing her shortest skirt with those damn fishnet stockings underneath that always drove Geralt crazy. She made sure to always retrieve the products from the lowest shelves, bending over and practically flashing Geralt at every turn.

Geralt thought himself a patient man, but seeing his beautiful wife bending down, her long, shapely legs on display did things to him that were out of his control. He gritted his teeth all throughout, trying to calm himself. Yennefer enjoyed this little game too much, clearly, because she kept grinning at him and brushing against his side, one hand always drifting dangerously close to Geralt's crotch.

"What's wrong, love?" She cooed, caressing Geralt's arm. She leaned close, rubbing her nose against his face. "Bored of shopping? We could always do something else."

"Yen," Geralt tried to warn her, but all his attempts at getting her to behave were futile. Yennefer was on her best game of seduction today, and she always got what she wanted.

"I say," Yennefer breathed, giving Geralt's butt a squeeze, "that we cut this short and get out as soon as we can. Come, on I know you can't wait to fuck me."

Geralt growled. He could never resist Yennefer, no matter how hard he tried: he was already hard in his jeans just from looking at her in that outfit, and her hotly whispered words didn't help.

They nearly gave the cashier a heart attack with how hard they slammed the money down, all but tearing the bagged products off the counter and showing them back into their cart. Yennefer grinned triumphantly all the way to their car, very pleased that once again she was getting what she wanted.

Geralt didn't even have time to push the seat back a little, soon finding himself with a lap full of an eager Yennefer, who grinded her bum against his crotch, her hands finding their way into Geralt's hair.

"Someone's eager, indeed," Yennefer chuckled, rolling her hips forward and into the hardness beneath her. "It's a wonder you didn't come into you pants back there."

She gasped when Geralt gave her bum a short spank, the sting delicious and promising. She loved it when she could draw the beast out of hiding, when she could rile Geralt up so bad.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to behave," Geralt growled. He slipped his hands under Yennefer's skirt, hooking his fingers under those damn stockings. He all but tore them down, along with Yennefer's knickers.

"Oh, but who said you're allowed to?" Yennefer teased. She bit down on Geralt's neck, sucking a hickey into the skin. Geralt's hips shot up on instinct, desperately searching some friction.

"It would be so much fun to leave you hanging," Yennefer giggled, smoothing a hand down Geralt's chest. "To rile you up and deny you the pleasure."

She rolled her hips against Geralt's lap again. She was soaking wet already, staining Geralt's jeans. He moaned under him, his big hands squeezing her hips.

"You're such a dirty minx," Geralt breathed, "I'm gonna ruin you."

"Oh, but who's gonna ruin who here, sweetness?"

Geralt grabbed the back of her head and pulled her down into a bruising kiss. Their tongues and teeth collided wildly, making both their head spin in the most delicious way. Yennefer moaned when a thick, calloused finger pushed into her.

"Right," Geralt smirked, "I promised you I would fuck you, remember?"

"Do it, then," Yennefer breathed, squeezing around the finger inside her, "show me how hard you can fuck me, big boy."

Geralt kissed her again, hungrily licking into her mouth while he pumped his finger in and out of her. Yennefer fumbled with Geralt's belt and zipper, angrily clawing at the material in the way. She gripped his cock not too gently, enjoying the way Geralt hissed and bucked up against her.

Geralt pulled his fingers out of Yennefer and gripped her hips instead, pulling her down and onto his cock. Yennefer felt magnificent around her, tight and warm and so, so wet. He needed to take several breaths to calm himself down, trying not to spill right away.

People were walking by their car, and the knowledge they could see everything going on inside only fueled them on more.

"I wonder what they think," Yennefer laughed breathlessly as she bounced up and down, driving Geralt into her deeper. "What a perverted, nasty couple... but I bet they would like to join us. Would you let one of them fuck me?"

"God dammit, Yennefer," Geralt moaned, burying his face in Yennefer's neck. He willed his hips to stay still, letting Yennefer ride him exactly the way she wanted. He was nearly bursting with desire, clinging onto Yennefer as she rolled her hips down, grinding against his dick.

Yennefer clawed at Geralt's back as the head of his cock brushed against that deep spot inside her. She could feel her orgasm coming soon, building up inside her.

Geralt was getting close, too, his body trembling under Yennefer. His grip on Yennefer's hips tightened, pulling her down and closer.

Yennefer came first, tossing her head back and nearly headbutting the top of the car. She tightened around Geralt like a vice, her hips twisting a couple more times as she rode out her orgasm. Geralt followed soon after, spilling deep inside her.

"I hope we won't be in the news tomorrow," Geralt panted, wrapping his arms around Yennefer and pulling her close to him.

Yennefer only laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. If they would get in trouble for fucking in a parking lot in broad daylight, it would still be worth it.

[antonymziie]

tw:: implied violence/abuse and gore || word count :: 1,649

synopsis: a college student is thoroughly disturbed by a lone boy shopping in the store. (full story under cut)

This story never gets easier, no matter how many times I have to tell it.

It was during my sophomore year of college, I was working a stuffy customer service job to afford the tiny apartment I lived in at the time. The apartment was within walking distance of both the college campus and the grocery store, so it was ideal for a twenty year old with no car. Most of the days at work were unmemorable, the high pitched blip of the register drowned out any possible semblance of thought, so I fell into rhythm with everyone else. Until the boy showed up for the first time.

It wasn’t uncommon for parents to send their children into the store, credit card in hand, to pick up the few items they were too lazy to come back and get themselves, but this was different. Not the regular snot-nosed adolescent sneaking takis onto the belt, but a little boy. Dripping from the rain, he couldn’t have been older than seven, and I had never seen him before.

His frame was almost completely hidden by a raincoat; and he struggled to retrieve a cart from the row of them. I watched the small figure disappear with a cart toward the back of the store. I continued my job, but I couldn’t shake the odd feeling about what I had witnessed; and the fact that not a single person in the store, customer or coworker, mentioned the boy, made it worse. It was as if I was the only one who saw the lone, coat-covered boy vanish to the far end of the store.

Half an hour passed, and a shopping cart full of items appeared from the depths of the aisles, wheeling up to the register, propelled by its own free will. The small boy, still dewy from the rain, materialized from behind the buggy. He looked at me with large, blue eyes, strands of his wet and dirty blonde hair hanging in his face; he didn’t utter a word, but rather, stuffed a tiny hand into the pocket of the oversized raincoat and retrieved a large bundle of cash. He placed a single, crisp, hundred-dollar bill on the counter; he looked at me, then the full cart of groceries. I hesitated for a moment, waiting to see if anyone would step in and acknowledge the boy.

He continued to stare with watery, blue eyes, and since no one would give me the time of day, I proceeded with the order. Unloading the groceries, scanning everything, placing it back in the cart, and using the money (which was in fact real) the boy had given me to pay for it all. He took the change and receipt and shoved it back in his coat pocket.

He left, pushing the mountain of groceries in front of him. At first, I didn’t think it was real, and usually I’m not bothered by the odd happenings in the store, but this was different; weirdly different.

A week passed and the boy had not shown up again since the previous time I saw him; perhaps it was a single strange event, or I ate something bad for lunch and mistook a short man for an elementary-grade boy. No matter how I tried to reason through the events, they still managed to fight themselves to the forefront of my mind during work. I assumed I would never feel at ease until I saw the boy again, hopefully with his parents.

The boy did return, in the same fashion as he did before; and like clockwork, thirty minutes later, he arrived at my register with a cart full of groceries. I could get a better look at him this time, the days had become warmer and he wasn’t wearing the coat like before. He was a frail, blond boy with sad, blue eyes and freckles dotting his face. There was a subtle blush to his button nose and dimpled cheeks, but overall his nature seemed- sad.

He did as he had done before, reaching into a pocket and retrieving one hundred-dollar bill, he looked at me, and then the cart. I unloaded the buggy and began scanning; the boy, in his dinosaur shirt and cargo shorts, did not look up from the tiled floor.

“Do you usually shop all by yourself?” I couldn’t help but address the obvious, a child shopping alone is a cause for question.

He nodded his head.

“Where’s your parents? Do they know you do this?”

He nodded again.

“So where are they- your parents?”

“At home.” His voice was almost too quiet to hear, “Mommy’s at home.”

“Why doesn’t Mommy do the shopping?”

“She’s sick.”

“Sick?” I was finishing up with the last of the groceries.

He nodded a final time. I couldn’t get him to answer anymore questions

That night, I sat by my phone, debating to myself whether or not I should call the police. I didn’t know anything about the boy, not where he lived, not even his name, and no one else seemed concerned about his visits; one of my coworkers said they “weren’t paid enough to care”. Still, I sat, pondering to myself by the phone.

Within the month, I quit my job at the grocery store. “Classes had become too much” is what I told them, but really, I was scared. I was scared that I would see him again, and I would have to spend another night sitting by my phone wondering what I would even tell the police if I made a call.

I believed that quitting my job had finally rid me of the boy with the sad blue eyes, that he would become someone else’s problem and everything would work out for the better, but that belief was short-lived.

Walking back from the nearby convenience store, I saw him; he was walking alone, pulling a wagon full of bags behind him. He didn’t notice me walking a couple hundred feet behind him, so I didn’t engage. I slowly walked and watched and my heart leapt out of my chest when he turned the corner to the road that I lived on.

It wasn’t my business, but I felt the dire need to know where he was going. What was going on? It couldn’t be anything good.

I was crouched behind some bushes when I watched the boy roll the wagon to one of the many doors on the first floor of an apartment building across from my own complex. He stood on his tip-toes to turn the knob, and once the door swung open, he pulled the red wagon inside. The door shut behind him.

I don’t know why I had decided to knock on the door, or how things would have gone if I had just minded my business and went home, but I could have never prepared myself for what I found.

I knocked. No answer.

I knocked again. This time I heard shuffling inside before the door shifted open.

Big, blue eyes peaked from the crack in the door.

“Is your mom home?”

“She’s sick.” The boy began to close the door.

“But,” I stopped the door with the toe of my shoe, “I really need to speak with her. It’s important.”

“…Okay” The door swung open, and that’s when the stench came.

It washed over me like a wave and my eyes watered from smell, it was beyond anything I had ever experienced; when I looked for a source to the smell, as I was led into the tiny apartment, I found no definitive answer. The place looked extremely well-kept, better than I kept my own apartment. The floors were void of dust and dirt, counters cleaned, dishes put away, but the smell of putrid rot infected everything.

The boy, my hand in his, brought me to the farthest part of the small apartment, the smell was unbearable but the young boy remained unfazed.

He twisted the knob and pushed open the door which unleashed a curse of imprisoned rot, it crept out of the room and choked me until I couldn’t help but gag until near vomiting.

In the small room, mountains of rotten food had been piled high on paper plates. They had remained there for so long they began fusing with the carpeting and the clothes that were scattered about the floor. A king sized bed, that occupied most of the space in the room, had comforters stained in brown and black, and a mass of curly dark hair was the only thing visible of the form that rested beneath them.

My blood ran cold. The boy looked at me and repeated what he had said before, “She’s sick.”

I didn’t reply. My hands were gripped tight on my cell phone.

“She got sick after Daddy left.”

My fingers trembled as I tried to unlock my phone to make a call. The boy had begun to tread over to the bed.

“Where’d you get all the money?” The boy stopped and looked at me, “for the food?”

“Mommy’s secret n’velope,” he struggled to pronounce some of the words, “for when Daddy got too angry and left her all alone.”

9-1-1

“He got really angry.” The boy said.

The phone rang forever. The stench of rot clouded my thoughts and big blue eyes stared me down with unknowing innocence.

When the operator finally answered, all I could manage to choke out was “please come.”

Everything after that felt like a blur, but I can still remember the smell inside that apartment so vividly that I wake up from gagging in my sleep. I don’t know what happened to the boy with the sad, blue eyes because, after the whole ordeal, I dropped out of college and moved back home.

Everyday, though, I think about him. An “old soul” who was taking care of his mother’s corpse.

[youshouldhavepaidattentiondad]

🛒

"Dear, will you grab a buggy?" Russ requests as he scans the grocery list, trying to decide the best place in the store to start.

John grins teasingly. "You mean a cart?" He asks as he retrieves one from the corral next to the doors.

Sighing good-naturedly, Russ turns to look at his husband. "No, I mean a buggy. Get outta here with your cart nonsense."

"You're in the Midwest now, darling. It's called a cart," John reminds as he pushes the cart forward so he can stand next to Russ.

"I'll stop calling it a buggy when I die."

-

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