#which still makes me so tired in the morning its painful to start to get up

[beesmygod]

navel-gazey retrospective: man my pain is like truly almost entirely gone. i had allergy and effexor woes for like 2-3 years and then the last 2 years overlapped with the terrible mysterious joint disease+effexor tapering (AAH!!!! my back is only just starting to feel truly free!!!!!!) so its extremely welcome to only experience like a weird 1-2 pain scale achey hour or two a day at worst. it was so bad. i'm still not 100%, im still so tired all the time, but much, much better than i used to. things are looking up and im slowly getting back in the saddle. it's slower than i want, but it's at least trending upward.

sorry for being completely unhinged for several years. thank you for being patient with me if you could stomach it, because it is only in hindsight that i realize how caustic and vile it could be. i am pretty ashamed of my behavior during this time. knowing this can and will happen again if there's a pain flare/weird med issue is making me hyper-vigilant about my behavior to prevent this from just playing out over and over for the rest of my life, forever. im going to keep doing what im doing now, which i hope is unobtrusive and respectful. i was a miserable jerk and i am sorry i made it everyone else's problem.

sincerely, if it were not for several things i think i would have been completely fucked: medicaid, being able to do comics for a living, and adam. if not for the flexibility of the work i do, i would not be able to have taken all that time off to try to at least inch toward an understanding of what was going on with me and take long periods of time to recover from it. people were endlessly kind with me and the sporadic update schedule that crept up on me in the previous years and i appreciate it. my life was improved by your support directly and it continues to be improved by it. it helped a lot.

but i was only truly able to have that incredibly loose schedule because of adam, who worked his ass off not only at his job, but also by picking up my slack around the house (there was a point where moving dishes from the table to the kitchen became "impossible" ?? and i'd have to wait until morning to do it??), cooking dinner every night, helping with laundry, demonstrated endless patience and respect for me when i spent an extraordinary amount of time sitting on the couch staring at my phone, covered bills when i needed the months off, and really just stepped up and showed up when i know he's exhausted too. thanks adam love you...!

[mindself]

Woke up to a musical alarm, the one I usually have, but turns out I hallucinated it because my phones were off

[sunnie-angel]

week 3 (oct. 18) | period sex

✮⋆˙bon appétit (2.2k)

jason's a vampire, you're on your period, and, well a man's gotta eat

tags: f!reader, vamp jason, established relationship, period sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blood drinking, blood as lube, slight size kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: for @luvrodite my darling, this would not exist without your encouragement

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason Todd is on you the second you walk through the door, pharmacy bag dropping from your hands in surprise. The door’s barely shut behind you before he’s crowding you up against it, cold night air still lingering on your skin, his nose buried in your neck. His lips part along your collarbone and you roll your eyes at the pinprick of fangs already descending from his gums.

“I smell blood,” he rumbles. “Are you hurt?”

With a sigh you dig your now empty hand into the thick mess of his hair and pull him off of your throat. His pupils have already started to narrow into slits, catlike.

“No, and if you’d stop thinking with your fangs for a hot second you’d realize it’s because of my period.” Reaching down for the bag you’d just let go of, you gasp as another cramp spikes through your lower belly and claws up your back. “Right, you can get the bag because you made me drop it. I’m going to find my heat pack in the kitchen.”

Jason’s already waiting for you by the time you hobble into the kitchen, slow and regrettably human. Under your breath you curse his unnatural speed but he hears you anyway and grins. He’s already put your heat pack in the microwave so there’s nothing to do but gratefully take the painkillers he’s fished out of the bag for you and wait. His stomach grumbles.

“Nope,” you declare. “Not happening tonight. I’m losing enough blood as it is, you aren’t getting your hands on any more.”

“Please, baby? ‘M starving over here,” Jason pouts. He’s suddenly behind you, arms around your midriff. He lets out a huff of air right over your jugular, goosebumps rising across your skin. Usually, that would be enough to have you caving, knees weak and and panties wet, begging for his bite. Tonight, you push his face away with annoyance.

“Go get some synth blood from you maker or something. Isn’t she always offering to hook you up with a supply? I’m off the menu tonight, so put those–” you tap at his upper lip, right over where his fangs have descended “–away.”

The microwave beeps, giving you an excuse to slip from his grasp. You moan at the warmth as you shove it down the front of your clothing, the heat already making the cramps reside a little.

“Talia’s out of town and you know nothin’ tastes anywhere near as good as you do,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You want to scream at his perfect dumb face with its stupid puppy eyes.

“Jason. I’ve got a waterfall of blood in my underwear – which is stained by the way because none of the PATH toilets had any pads in any of their dispensers – my back hurts, my stomach hurts, my boobs are pain central, and my ankles are sore for some ungodly reason. I’m not adding “mauled by a hungry vampire” to the list of reasons why I’m destroying my liver with painkillers.”

You know you’re probably being bitchier about it than you normally would be to turn him down, but you’ve just had the day from hell. First your period had started on your morning commute to work. Then the pad you had been counting on to be in your purse hadn’t been there, a casualty of Tamara two desks over last week. There’d only been a single pill left in the bottle of painkillers you kept at your desk, and you’d been so run off your feet with work that you hadn’t had a chance to run out for more. You’re tired and sore, absolutely ready to face plant into bed.

“I don’t gotta bite, you know,” Jason says slowly.

“What,” you retort flatly, already done with this conversation.

“Well if you’re already bleeding. I don’t hafta bite you.” He smirks at you like he’s solved all of your problems. Slowly, your face starts to heat up as you put together what he’s implying.

“You don’t– what. You wanna...” you splutter, unable to string the thought together.

“C’mon sweetheart,” he prowls towards you, predatory glint in his eye “let me put my mouth to good use. I promise I won’t bite.” He’s got you backed against the countertop, balancing on your tip toes. The faux marble is firm beneath your scrabbling fingertips as you let out a squeak. He traces the apple of your cheek with a deceptively gentle finger. “Besides, you always feel so nice and relaxed after you come. Might make those cramps better.”

Cotton mouthed, you swallow down your desire but you can tell from the lopsided grin that Jason can already smell it on you.

“Ye-ah, okay.” You nod and bite your lip. “But if you make my cramps worse, I reserve the right to knee you in the head.”

Jason’s got you undressed and flat on your back on the bed in under 15 seconds in what has to be a new personal record. He’d even managed to put a towel down and reposition the heating pack right over your womb between breaths. Somewhere in the trip between the kitchen and the bedroom Jason had lost his shirt and you’re reminded again of just how badly he can make your mouth water, staring at the broad expanse of muscle covered in a thin layer of fat. He looks down at your bare, bleeding cunt and you swear you see a hint of something cold and predatory tinge his desire.

You reach out to him feeling oddly vulnerable, the rabbit kicking in the jaws of the wolf. He smiles at you, and despite the narrowed slit of his pupils you feel the warmth leech back into the room. Gently, he lowers himself down to cover your body with his. Kisses and laps at your open mouth, careful not to nick you with his fangs. Jason smooths a broad palm along the side of your ribcage until it settles on the plush curve of your hip. Slowly, he starts to kiss at your jaw and throat, purposefully avoiding the lush temptation of your carotid.

When Jason takes your aching breast into the wet heat of his mouth for the first time that night, you gasp and arch your back. Your hips strain with nowhere to go against the rock solid weight of his body. He’s gentler than he usually is, keeps his promise not to bite by laving at the bud of your nipple with the flat of his tongue. Kisses and sucks at the aching flesh until you are mewling from oversensitivity, now wet with more than just blood. He barely reacts to you clawing at his back, nails leaving raw red lines that heal over in an instant.

“Too much too muchtoomuchtoomuch,” you babble, body leaden with a different type of ache.

He pulls off your breast with an audible pop, a thin line of spit connecting his lips to the wet mess he’s made of your tits. Jason smiles as he peppers kisses down your belly, still careful not to jostle the heat pack from it’s place. He licks and kisses at each thigh before placing them onto his shoulders, sucking hard enough to leave bruises in your wake. You start to roll your eyes at him for his obsession with getting as close to your blood as possible when the scrape of teeth across the thin skin has you trying to strangle him with your thighs.

“No biting,” you gasp out, the curve of your spine pushing your breasts into the air.

“No biting,” he says, humouring you.

Jason hands close around your hips and drags you down to meet him. He licks a broad stripe right across your dripping cunt, obliterating any indignant thoughts in your head. Sucks a kiss to your clit that has you grabbing for his hair, desperate to keep his face right there. Your hips struggle to move but the coiled strength in his palms traps you right where he wants you. He’s enjoying this, you can tell from the way he’s playing you like a finely tuned instrument. Alternates long slow licks with taps and flicks of his tongue just to watch you dissolving into a whining and desperate creature.

You’re wet, so wet you can feel it dripping down to the cleft of your ass. Jason slurps – slurps! – up the mixture of your blood and arousal, traces it straight back to the source until he’s sucking right over your entrance. The tip of his tongue traces your cunt before plunging in and you moan, body tensing up at the intrusion. Trying to arch up into him, Jason slams your hips back down onto the mattress, the heating pad sliding somewhere off to the side of your hip.

“C’mon baby, gotta stay still so I can finish my dinner,” he purrs, not even bothering to look up from the blood drooling between your legs.

Arousal and embarrassment flare through you, lighting you up and burning through your cheeks as he goes back to eating you out. The spread of his fangs pinning your hole wide open as he thrusts the slick muscle of his tongue back into you. Uses it to curl into you wickedly until you moan high and reedy in your throat, aching for more. A thick finger prods at your entrance, alternates thrusting in with his tongue, forcing you to clench down around the intrusion. You can do nothing but lay there and take it, as he fucks you on his fingers and tongue. There’s no  escape from him and his questing mouth, pinned down as you are.

Your thighs start to shake when he curls a second finger into you, scissors his fingers wide to make it easier to drink you down. Spreads you open and fucks back in as deep as his hand will go. Hooks those fingers into the soft spongy part of your gut that has you seeing stars and pushes as he sucks on your clit again.

“Right there, Jay,” you whine, fighting for breath as your tummy screws up tight. “Please.”

Jason keeps hitting that spot with his fingers with unerring accuracy, hammering away as he laves over your clit. It’s the barest hint of teeth dragging across it that sends you burning over the edge, vision whiting out at the corners when you come. Chest heaving as you try to breath through it, body turning to jelly, your cramps are long forgotten in the flood of endorphins.

Jason grins from between your thighs, chin red with your blood and sticky with your slick. Leans over to show you the mess you’ve made of his hand, the sticky strings that still cling, connecting it to your twitching cunt. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he licks it all up, moans at the taste of you and ruts his dick into the bed.

“You taste so good, honey–" you whine at the praise “–just had to have a little taste. And I was good wasn’t I, didn’t even bite to get it, so I think I deserve a little dessert too.”

You nod too fucked out and relaxed to move, body nearly one with the bed as your aching muscles melt. He grins, predatory again, and oh you should have seen this coming. Something about wetting his throat with blood always has Jason desperate to get his dick wet too.

Jason slowly feeds his cock into you, smile still stained red. Moves one of your legs to hook around his waist while he carefully keeps the other one pinned over his shoulder as he folds you in two. He’s big. He’s always big but in this position you can feel every inch of him, can practically taste your hips giving way as he makes space for himself inside of you. Jason sets a pace that has you shaking under him, eyes wide as he steals the air from your lungs with each deep thrust. Filthy, wet squelching noises stream from your cunt as he fucks it sloppy, driven feral by the scent of blood in the air.

He coos at your wide eyes and slack-jawed expression as you clench tighter and tighter around him. Bends his head to mouth at your neglected breasts and smear them bloody. Jason minds his teeth as he laps and suckles at your tits in a crude approximation of what he just did to your clit. All the while his thrusts speed up, jolt you up the bed as he starts to jackhammer. You wail as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your quivering walls. Jason works a hand between you and all it takes is the slightest pressure to set off the chain reaction in you again.

Smug, Jason rolls off to lie beside you, head propped on his hand to watch you gasp and twitch like a gutted fish. He reaches down between your thighs and runs a finger through the mess there, causes you to shiver. Jason licks your combined spend off his finger and sighs with satisfaction. Starts to rub the warm mixture of blood, cum and slick into the skin over your womb in idle patterns.

“You know, you tasted good before, but I think I like you best when you taste like me.”

[luveline]

do you have anything more from office frenemies with james? i just read it and i loved it so much

yes! love u ty

—you and James don’t get along until you kind of, sort of do. fem!reader, 1.5k

James listens to the most obnoxious playlist in the mornings. There’s about a fifteen minute window between when he arrives and when the workday officially starts, which coincides exactly with your window. He often gets the same elevator ride, walks a pace beside you, and decides whether he’s going to let the ‘lady’ go first through the door depending on the day. 

That morning, he’d opened the door widely, grinned at you with music blaring loud enough to make a normal person deaf from his earphones, and let you pass. Then he pretended to stick his foot out to trip you up, pulling it back at the last second. 

Jerk, you think, angry even now as he tucks himself into his desk, his earphones still ridiculously loud. He actually, genuinely, is going to get hearing damage. You’re not being bitter. Human ears aren’t meant for that. 

You click onto the workplace Outlook and open a tab on your desktop. How loudly can you listen to music? you google. A few articles appear straight away that fit your purpose —you drag them each into an empty email. Then, smiling to yourself, you find an article on the negative effects of workplace noise pollution and how this sort of selfishness can affect your coworkers’ mental health and add that at the very top. 

To: jamesp@outlook.wpa.uk 

Hi James, 

please find attached a few articles I felt might be important for you to read.

Worst, 

Your unhappy adjacent desk. 

You know he’s received it when he laughs loudly, turning down his music with a few quick clicks on his phone. 

An email comes through to your inbox shortly after.

Hi bestie, 

I’m so so sorry for the noise. Please find attached a few articles I, in turn, felt you might enjoy. 

Best, 

James Potter :) 

He’s attached an irksome variation of articles. Why music can help you get ready for the day. Ten ways workplace friendships are important. Can you really find your soulmate at work? 

You open your personal messaging system. You tend not to use it with James, but this morning he’s winding you up. 

I could report you to HR for that last one, you send. 

He replies quickly. You try very hard not to look up at him from over your desktop. I didn’t mean me. 

You’ll be deaf by thirty. 

Jealous you don’t have such great taste in music? 

Jealous of everyone in the annex. 

Want a cup of coffee?

You meet his gaze finally over the computer, find him already looking at you. You shake your head scornfully. In what world would you ever want him to make you a coffee? He’s never actually offered to make you one before, to be fair, but he’s awful to you so what are you supposed to think? He’ll probably poison it. 

He stands to leave. Remus, the other accountant to complete your trio, arrives while he’s gone with his boyfriend Sirius in tow. They’re also James’ best friends, unfortunately. It makes for some awkwardness. 

“Where is he?” Remus asks you, in the midst of a quick goodbye kiss before Sirius makes his way to his desk further down the office. 

You nibble your lip and give a dispassionate shrug. You hate talking about James. You hate his stupid mess of hair, his reading glasses, his lips when he smiles crookedly and worse when he’s glaring at you. You hate the way he sighs as he clicks his neck, the quick lap he does every other hour complaining of tired legs, the genuine tenderness he shows you whenever you’re sick. You hate James. You don't like to think about him too much lest you get caught, a fish in a net.

Or a fish with a painful hook in its lip. 

“Ah, you’re here,” James says, two cups of coffee in his hand. 

You’re only a little heartbroken when he puts one on his desk and one on Remus’. Didn’t want one anyways. 

Remus grins as James comes up behind him for a rough hug and hair ruffle. “How was last night?” 

“I wish you’d come. Sirius spent all night trying to out drink Marl, you know he can’t, so I spent all night holding his hair out of his face. I wasn’t gonna talk to him this morning, but he was being very pathetic.” 

James laughs. You pretend you aren’t listening to them, pretend you don’t feel left out even if they have no reason to be your friend, clicking at random things on your screen and scrolling through spreadsheets long finished and filed. “You know I couldn’t come, Moony,” —no point starting on their awful nicknames— “what if she needed me?” 

You still. She? 

“James, there’s not much you can do,” Remus says gently. He’s a quiet, soft sort of man, but they’re all so loud about loving one another. “You have to let her… you know.” 

You feel them both looking at you, your gaze steadfast on your screen. 

“Try not to think about it,” Remus says. 

“I’ve been distracting myself,” James agrees. 

Oh, you think. Oh. I’m such a dick. 

“You could go home?” Remus says, putting his face in his hand. “I could cover you.” 

“It’s too much work.” 

“I know, but, you know, I’ll do half, and you’ll only have half to catch up on when you come back.” 

You’re not sure who she is, and you very much still don’t like James Potter, but you're not heartless. He sounds awfully upset, fragility to his voice and a foreign balling of his fist by his hip. “Um,” you say, clearing your throat weakly, “well, with me and Remus, we could cover for you.” 

James’ face is unreadable, looking down at you. “You’d cover for me?” he asks. 

“Your work isn’t exactly hard, James.” 

“But you’d do it?” 

“How long will you be off for?” 

James frowns. “Like, two days?” he says quietly. 

“That’s fine. We can do that,” you say, checking with Remus from around James hip. “Yeah?” 

“Of course,” Remus says quickly. 

James looks at you long and hard. “You’re not kidding?” 

“No, James. Not kidding. You’d do the same for me, right?” 

James leans down to hug you before you can stop him. His arms wrap around your shoulders, a perfectly amicable touch made up of sleeper muscle and the attractive smell of almond oil, nearly sweet, slightly woody. He laughs against your cheek as he pulls away, turning back to Remus for a similar hug. “Thank you. I’ll go tell Danny right now.” He beams at you. His relief is thick as honey, palpable in his warm tone. “Thank you.” 

You can’t look at him very long. 

The memory of his fingers linger, the weight of his arm behind your head. He excuses himself to go talk to your boss, and you and Remus sit in a semi-awkward silence, of which you’re wholly responsible. 

“His cat is dying,” Remus says eventually.

You wince. “Oh, no, really?” you ask. 

“He’s had her since we were kids. It’s really nice of you to do this.”

“I really do think he’d do it for me,” you interrupt. “I’m not, you know, cruel, because we don’t get on.” 

“I know. James knows that too.” 

You want to get defensive. Why does it matter if James knows? But Remus is too nice to argue with, and secretly, strangely, you’d wanted James to know you aren’t mean. You wouldn’t have sent him that email this morning if you’d known, and maybe this is apology enough for that. 

Still, it doesn’t feel right when James returns, gathering his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “Thank you guys, so much. I will bring you the most amazing desserts of all time as a thank you. I won’t even put your mug on the top shelf the next time I wash it,” James promises you. 

You bat aside the rage of knowing he’s the culprit and instead get out of your seat before he can leave. “Uh, James?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” 

You look at the floor by his shoes. “About earlier…”

James stands subtly between you and the bulk of the office. “You okay?” 

“I just– I’m sorry for complaining about your earphones. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive.” 

“You weren’t insensitive,” he says, “I was being obnoxious. Don’t worry about it, okay?” 

“I–” You hate yourself for all your stammering. “Hope whatever is wrong, that you’re okay. I’ll cover for you for the week if you need me to.” 

“Please stop feeling sorry for me. It looks weird on you. I much prefer you when you’re frowning, you get these super deep wrinkles in your forehead that I just love.” 

You turn away without looking up. “I’m gonna input all your sales information wrong.” 

“And I’m gonna bring you the best donut you’ve ever tasted to say thanks, sweetheart.” 

[pearlymel]

Sweet dreams—Zayne

summery : In which you need Zayne's help to tire you out so you can finally sleep.

Wc : 1.4k

Warning(s) : NSFW, Fem!reader, fingering, use of "good girl", finger sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, uhh lmk if i missed anything.

You don’t often ask Zayne for help, but he adored it when you did. He liked being needed, liked providing for you, always giving you anything you wanted. He’d never say it openly, though.

And tonight was one of those days, where both were of you were getting ready to sleep, Zayne facing his side of the bed and you embracing him from behind comfortably.

An hour passed. You look up at the clock on the wall, its already past midnight when you still couldn’t seem to get your eyes to close for the night. And who could you blame? Probably the sugar or drinks you had today that only seemed to make you hyper, and your handsome husband who you rarely get to see on nights like these. 

And you’re thankful, really. Finally being able to sleep in the same bed after hours of overtime from his demanding job. But that still doesn’t help with the fact that you missed him everyday when he leaves for work, oh how you ached for him to the point every simple thing he does turns you on. Like opening a jar you probably couldn’t open on your own, or sometimes watching him work out inside your shared space, his muscles flexing underneath that tight compression shirt, eyes fixated on the outline of the bulge peeking out from his grey—

You snapped back to reality when Zayne cleared his throat out loud, your body stiffening. Did he listen to what you were fantasizing about just a second ago?

“Why are you still not asleep? I can feel your fingertips playing with my hair…” you can hear the soft mumbling escaping his mouth. Your eyes follow his hand as he moves it to the back of his neck, his fingers nervously rubbing the area. You slowly pull your own hands back, still feeling the gentle tingle from the brief contact. A hint of redness creeps onto his earlobes, spreading across his skin like a subtle shade of embarrassment despite his back still facing you, but he quickly recovers from it.

“I can’t sleep. Plus I don’t feel tired from the amount of sugar I consumed this morning.” And you can only half blame him for it, since the candy jar he kept on the shelves were too tempting not to munch on.

“Sugar? You don’t happen to talk about the candy ja—“

“Ohh, i think its starting to hurt right here.” You swiftly cut him off, pretending to be in pain as you clutched on your stomach dramatically. And he can only sigh while watching your little act, even so, a small smile curled on one side of his lips. He's hopelessly smitten by your cute display.

"You're so dramatic," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. But despite his words, his hands reached for your wrists to lift them off your stomach, then slotting his hands on your stomach instead, gently massaging at first out of concern whether it was hurting or not.

“Here?” He whispered, fingers poking on your sides playfully which made you laugh, followed by a giggle. “That tickles, Dr Zayne!” And you continue squirming and laughing before he stopped with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Well, that still won’t help me fall asleep. In fact that just gave me more energy!” You smiled brightly in the slightly dim dark room. He only hums thoughtfully in return.

“If you want to sleep, we need to tire you out.” He leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead, and you only raise one eyebrow. When you tried to lift yourself off the bed, he only caged you gently in his arms while gently pushing you back on the bed. “I promise I won’t go too far,” and you feel like you instantly get the hint when his hand slides down to meet your bare thigh.

You silently thank yourself for only wearing an oversized shirt and panties tonight.

Zayne’s fingertips finally found itself way to your panties, his thumb slowly rubbing on your clit in circular motions through the thin fabric which made you gasp softly.

“Zayne—“

“Relax.” He whispered, soft lips finding yours into an open messy kiss, drinking in every mewl and whine that escaped from your lips. “Lie down, and spread your legs for me, darling.” He instructed in a low, husky tone. And you did as told, his arms pulling away from your back before letting yourself get comfortable on the mattress.

His breath hitched when you easily spread your legs open for him, his hands wasting not time to pull your underwear down to your ankles before slowly sinking in his middle finger into your wet, tight cunt. Your little hole fluttering around his finger when he started stroking your insides lightly, the back of your hand covering your mouth, struggling to not moan every time he would push knuckles deep inside you.

“Let me hear you,” he encouraged, gently brushing your hand away with his other hand before sinking in another finger in. Two fingers curling right into your sweet spot which immediately made you shamelessly moan out loud, hips arching off the bed as you clenched tightly around his fingers before coming undone. Though he continued thrusting his digits in and out, not fast, but steady.

“Good girl, now tell me what you want me to do next.” He roughly whispered, his own breathings growing heavier.

“I want…” you panted, mind still hazy while you tried to recover from your orgasm before he pulled out of you. “Open.” He ordered with dark eyes, your lips parting for him to take his digits in your mouth, your tongue lapping and sucking your juices clean off his fingers, a whine eliciting from your throat at the taste of yourself.

He then released his fingers from your mouth, leaning in to softly kiss at your temples. “I want more,” you mumble, eyes looking up innocently at him, which made him shake his head while chuckling. so you’re still not tired.

“More? That’s not enough information.” He said gruffly, and suddenly his pants were off, which made you blink twice for what’s to come. He exhales out shakily as he gives himself a few languid strokes before lining himself between your folds while leaning down to bury his face in your neck.

“You want me to fuck you roughly or gently? Do you want me to tie you up? Blindfold you? Or maybe, something else?” He whispered while pressing featherlight kisses along the curve of your neck. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and enjoyed it. If you were uncomfortable, he wouldn’t proceed. But he knew you liked being dominated sometimes. He could see it in your eyes, the way your pupils dilated and your breathing becoming ragged.

“… Roughly, please.” You uttered, almost to yourself as you wrapped your arms around him. He smirked against your neck so you wouldn’t be able to see him, he was pleased with your decision.

Zayne parted your thighs wider apart using his rough hands as he lined himself up with your tight entrance that clenched around nothing eagerly. “Relax, darling.” He murmured with reassurance next to your ear as he pushed himself into you to the hilt without warning, causing you to yelp in surprise. He moved at a leisurely pace, making sure you adjusted to his size, he then paused, waiting for your body to adjust to his girth.

He then began fucking you harder, pounding into you with long, deep thrusts. His movements were sharp, and deliberate. His hands gripping onto your thighs tightly, further pushing them down which made you cry out in pleasure. 

He took the pleasure at the sight of you, back arched, your nails digging and scratching into his back while hearing your moans of pleasure.

“That’s it, take it.” He grunted, one of his hands sliding down to slap your ass lightly, “take my cock, sweetheart—ah, fuck.” He panted, the rhythm increased, he was soon pounding into you relentlessly, feeling you clench impossibly tight around him, drawing you closer to your next climax.

“Hah… ah, Z-zayne,” you whimpered, tears prickling your precious eyes to which he tried kissing them away. “‘M gonna cum—“ 

“Cum for me, sweets.” He whispered softly, his lips pressing one last time on your shoulder before feeling your muscles clench around him. “My good girl.”

Your orgasm hit like a freight train, your muscles milking his cock intensely. Zayne groaned, following closely behind, spilling into you and painting your walls white in slow, sloppy thrusts.

Finally, he pulled out of you after a moment of catching both of your breaths, he collapsed beside you, panting heavily. “Surely you're tired by now?” And you giggle tiredly in return, eyes closing lazily and turning to him to give his lips a peck.

“I love you,” you whisper, and he takes your wrist, his thumb stroking slow circles inside your wrists. “I love you too, now go to sleep, love. I’ll clean you up.”

[anundyingfidelity]

TRAINING SEASON — Jensen Ackles

Summary: After a tumultuous relationship and a hard break up, you get trapped in between your co-star and a casual one night stand. But there's nothing you regret about.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x female reader, actress!reader.

Word count: 1,076.

Warnings: implied sex like the morning-after-sex, nudity, some sexy time but no full smut, friends to lovers, language, idk just wrote this quickly.

Notes: AU where Jensen is obviously single, and reader is like 38 in my head don't asky why I like this number, I still have no idea. And I just love, and I mean, loooveeee getting obsessed with hot men over 40, can you tell?

>> disclaimer: i totally respect the private lifes of the actors and celebrities i use for my fanfictions, and of course their personal relationships. this is only fiction written for fun and nothing more.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Opening your eyes, you stirred on the soft bed and noticed your sorroundings. This wasn't your hotel room. Your bare body hidden under the blank, messy bed sheets reminded you of yesterday's events. You smiled.

The other side of the bed was warm. His body pressing against yours felt perfect, and you wrapped your hand on his own, which was laying on your waist, like if he didn't want to let go of you. Your mind started remembering his touch on your skin, the way he would kiss every inch of your stomach, the trail of kisses he left all over you, and his love bites around your neck and chest. The burning between your thighs and the soreness let you notice it was as good as you imagined it to be, even before it happened.

"Whatcha thinking?" he asked, raspy and soft voice booming in your ears.

"Mmm... Nothing, just how great you felt last night," you teased, turning your head to see his face directly. Bare skin, disheveled hair, and tired but loving eyes met you. God, he was beautiful. He looked so fucked out in the best way possible one could describe it.

Jensen chuckled and kissed your cheek. Still, he never let go his embrace on you. He looked at you vividly for a long time, scanning every feature of your face, like he wanted to save all of you in just an instant. Your brows furrowed for a moment.

"What?" you whispered.

"We didn't fuck this up, did we?"

A sigh left your lips, your hand ran on his hair softly. You knew what he meant. You had a bad relationship and an even worse break up months before you started working together, and Jensen became a great friend as you tried to overcome it. And it was so hard not to fall for him when it felt like you knew each other for decades. He was someone you could trust your deepest secrets, pain and thoughts. A part of you did not want to cry on his shoulder for days once you got comfortable around him, nor letting him know how terrible you felt at the time. But he never judged you. He just was there, listening and offering a helping hand expecting nothing back.

But your feelings changed in the course. As months went by, an amazing, caring and loving friendship bloomed between both of you. Since the project was a long new TV series, you used to spend a huge amount of time together as your characters appeared to be in a slow building relationship. And now, the premiere was done, but the press tour barely started, so that meant you were not getting away from each other in a good time now.

"No," you finally answered. "Of course no."

"I mean, I know what you been through, and I- I don't wanna ruin anything-"

"Jensen, is fine," you cut him off. His eyes locked on yours, concern washed all over his handsome face. "I am fine with this, are you?"

"Absolutely," he said. "I always was. I mean, I liked you for a long time now," he laughed a little, making you smile. One of his hands now carressing your bare thigh, feeling the heat of your skin.

Jensen leaned down and pecked your lips softly, his lips slowly found its way to your neck, kissing and biting the flesh, exactly how he did last night. He groaned, tasting the saltiness, and you let out a soft moan as he flipped you around. You laid on your back, him on top. His tongue tracing your skin, stopping right before your breats. God, you were getting wet again.

Unlucky for you, your phone started ringing, breaking the moment and Jensen, with a disappointed look on his face, gave you the space to run and answer. By the way you were talking, he figured it was your manager, so he hid behind the covers, admiring you from afar. When you ended the phone call, you walked to him. His eyes kept lusting over your naked figure as you looked for your clothes all over the room. He sadly knew you were postponing until you had enough alone time together.

"I keep forgetting we're still on press tour," you kissed his cheek softly once you put on your underwear and grabbed your clothes to get decent to leave. "I'll be going now, sorry."

"It's fine," Jensen smiled, standing up and putting up some pants. He followed you before you crossed the door. "I'll see you later tonight then, how about dinner?" he casually asked, leaning down. "And then we could probably take care of some other things," he whispered in your ear. You bit your lip, eager to know what he had in mind.

"That'll be amazing, surprise me!"

You gave him a playful wink, and taking your purse you left his room with a wide grin on your face. You were so glad you stopped dating trainees to build a relationship with. Jensen was a self-confident, expert man, and you were more than happy to give it a shot.

[radio-fmm]

I crave Sanji angst 😝

here, my humble offering

Human

Sanji x reader

angst/comfort, gn reader

In which you find Sanji chopping vegetables at 2 in the morning

Masterlist

A shiver ran down your spine making you shift in your sleep, hands looking for your lovers warmth only to be met with an empty side of the bed. Your heart stops and you jolt up to double check, you look out the open window, by the position of the moon it could not be pass 2 am

Where was Sanji?

Worry washes over the sleepiness making your body stand up, put on your slippers with the mission of finding that damn cook. He wasn’t on night watch, his breakfast prep didn’t started in a couple of hours, the sun was still wrapped under the covers of the night sky and the tie calm lulling the strawhats to sleep soundly

Walking down the hallway you peek trough every door and window of The Sunny, being met with dark empty rooms or your crew mates fast asleep, snoring the night away. Suddenly you hear the familiar sound of chopping coming from the kitchen, the light shining warm illuminating your way trough, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and growing worry

It had come up to your attention that Sanji was used to have anxious fits and sleepless nights were he’d found his mind steering him awake, memories of his past turning into nightmares that haunted him. Regardless of how torturous some nights would feel, shoulders heavy, eye bags hanging, head spinning, Sanji would rarely talk about this fits, saying “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours with me, my love” brushing the matter off only for you to end up holding him tight as he poured his heart out with salty tears on your shoulders

You wished he hadn’t allowed it to get so bad tonight

Carefully you cracked the door of the kitchen open, Sanji never leaving his position, eyes fixed on the vegetables being chopped not noticing your form by the frame of the door

He looked tired

A sigh leaves your mouth as your heart clenches in pain, wondering why weren’t you blessed with a devil fruit or a power form above that could take that pain of his away; all you could offer him right now, was your presence and an ear to listen

“Sanji?” You break him away from his task, his eyes opened wide as they scanned you now approaching the counter, sitting in front of him

Sanji’s body language shifted the instant you entered his field of vision, but you know him well enough to know this is just a facade, noticing the redness and puffiness around his eyes, his stare shattered while he paints a sweet smile over it

“My love, hope I didn’t wake you up” and just like that he’s back to chopping the broccoli, hands moving fast, with an earned precision. You stay quiet, a small fiber of your being hoping he’ll drop this act and just come forward with what’s plaguing his mind, but even if he doesn’t its ok, you’ll be here regardless

“It’s 2 am Sanji, what are you doing?” his movements slow down, his eyes still zeroed on the vegetable

“Thought i’d get started on the food prep early”

“Sanji…” your tone becomes a little heavier, you hated speaking this way specially to him, but you knew if you didn’t press at least a little, the cook would stay the whole night up chopping and preparing food until he’d passed out on the stove

It was rare to see Sanji’s hands tremble, but when he felt your body get up from your seat and walk towards him, it was impossible for them to not to. His breath hitches as the deafening sound of your step getting closer and closer froze him, tears already threatening to spill out of his tired eyes

One of your hands settled on top of his, while the other discarded the knife, instinctively you pulled him closer embracing him in a tight reassuring hug that had him breaking down on you almost at the touch. His hands held you back as he sobbed in the crook of your neck, soothing circles going up and down his back as you whispered

“It’s ok, let it out”, “I’m here”, “Everything’s gonna be fine”

Your sweet voice fell on his ears making him melt even more, sobbing turning into intense crying that had you now sitting on the kitchen floor, his tired legs giving up on him

“I’m sorry” he says, voice broken in barely a whisper that breaks your heart, but you pull yourself together, for him

“Don’t say that, there’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable, I’m always here for you” is in these moments Sanji knows there most be a heaven, a guardian angel that send you his way, to hold him and protect him, to love him unconditionally and be so gentle, a word he had never really understood the extent of the real meaning until you had held him close to your heart

A silence falls like a warm blanket on top of you, his crying ceasing, breath calming as his eyes finally meet yours. There’s a certain embarrassment behind Sanji’s eyes that you still cannot concoct into the correct words to express how it shatters you, all you can say is

“Don’t be ashamed to be human, Sanji” your gaze never wavers from his, speaking every word loud and clear making sure he gets it, and he does

He feels undeserving of such love and care, anyone that has known the both of you could see it in his everyday devotion to you, breaking himself apart for you to feast, being on your call and foot every hour and moment of his days, simply noticing the way he looks at you. Pure adoration he offers you, but now as you walk back to your dorm beside him at almost 3 in the morning, tucking him in your bed his head in your chest as you kiss him good night, he knows adoration is not enough of a word

He loves you

[chrissturniolosbiggestslut]

Can we get a tooth-rotting chris x reader, just them having a super cuddly morning, like them waking up cuddly and then going upstairs to make breakfast and still being all over eachother??? LOVE YOUUU

— “YOU'RE BOTH INSANELY SOFT"

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

thank for the request cutie i love u too! i hope this is good enough chat bc i hate this😔

in which:

you and chris's love language is both physical touch, making your mornings a lot of nothing but cuddling and softness.

warnings: curly-headed!reader i guess but like that's it, insane fluff but a lot of plot, established relationship chris x reader

**NOT PROOFREAD**

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

one thing about you and chris was that you both had a inordinate about of clinginess inside of you. not a moment went by where one of you wasn't touching the other in some way. you adored it, how you and chris shared the same love language. however many other's didn't; like nick.

seeing as nick was the mother of the group, if you will, he was often in charge of waking everybody up on trips. in doing this, he absolutely despised how difficult it was to get you and chris out of bed. someone was always on top of someone and nobody ever wanted to get up.

"y'know i really wish that the two of you weren't such a fucking pain in the ass to wake up!" nick shouted through the room, ripping the cover from on top of you and chris.

chris twisted atop of you, wrapping his arms tighter around your torso and snuggling his head into your stomach. "that sounds like a you problem, nick," he murmured, eliciting a tired giggle from you as your hand made it's way into the boy's hair.

nick groaned, "i hate you! both of you!"

"no you don't," you smiled.

nick only deadpanned, staring at you. "yes. i do."

you both rolled your eyes as nick walked away, making his way to the bathroom where matt was getting ready to also start getting ready.

you stretched out a little, ruffling chris's hair one last time. "baby, we should really start getting ready. we can sleep some more in the car if you want?"

the brunette shook his head. "no. wanna stay here with you," he muttered.

you only blinked. "chris we have to leave the room and get breakfast anyways, we might as well just speed things up. please, love, for me?"

at hearing the last bit, chris's eyes opened, looking up at you as he adjusted himself to look up at you. he sighed, "fine. but only because you look really pretty.

you stared at the boy, knowing that your curls were tucked into a bonnet and your lips were most definitely chapped. "sure, sweetheart. now c'mon lets go."

chris groans, a pout taking up his face as he rolls off the bed so you can get up.

after about an hour or so, you and all of the triplets are ready for the day. the four of you make your way downstairs to catch the hotel breakfast.

on the walk to the elevator, chris rushes to your side, grasping your hand in his. you smile, looking up at him. he only smiles back.

you hear a gagging sound behind you, catching your attention. you soon realize its only nick pretending to hate you and chris's relationship.

"you guys are so fucking gross i hate you both!" he whines.

chris rolls his eyes, "nick your just mad as fuck that every man you've ever been attracted to was fucking straight and you're single. so shut the fuck up.

your hand clasps your mouth as you glance at matt, making sure you both just heard the same thing. "oh shit," you whispered.

"y'know what chris-" nick shouts, preparing to go off on chris.

matt grabs his shoulder, "nick! shut your fucking mouth and keep walking. its like 9 am i don't think the whole floor wants to hear this."

"yeah you big fat beast! shut your damn mouth," chris taunts, a smirk on his face. your lips curl as you remove your hand from chris's, slapping his arm with it. "ow!' he shouts dramatically, clutching his arm.

"stop being mean to nick," you scold, walking side by side with him, your arms now crossed.

his arms flail, dropping on his thighs, "of course you're defending nick over me! me! your own boyfriend of over a year."

"and nick's my best friend of over 10 years, i think he takes the fucking cake," you giggle.

chris huffs, his arms now crossed as well. "this is racism," he murmurs to himself.

"what was that?!"

"nothing!"

you and the triplets now sat on a few couches downstairs, enjoying your breakfast and talking amongst each other.

as you're talking to matt, you feel a head on your shoulder and a few curls tickling your face and mouth. you look down, seeing no other than chris.

"hey baby," you greet him, wrapping an arm around him and scratching his back as you continue talking to matt.

chris whispers in your ear, "are you still mad at me?"

you smile slightly, watching as matt's eyes roll at how many times your conversation has been interrupted by your boyfriend.

"love i was never mad at you, i just wish you'd drop the fucking attitude."

he frowns, "i was just hungry..." he excuses, looking at you with doe eyes and dilated pupils. he now smiles, "you're so pretty."

"you're pretty too, baby."

his smile grows. he continues to pick at his food, not lifting his head from your shoulder once. you could tell he was still a bit drowsy, so you weren't too hard on him about his attitude.

"have i ever told you how much i love you. its like you were literally made for me baby!"

you smile softly, "i know, i love you too."

"EW I CAN'T STAND THIS!" nick shrieks, "YOU'RE BOTH SO INSANELY SOFT AND IT DISGUSTS ME!"

"maybe try crying about it?" you retort jokingly, you and chris laughing uncontrollably as you watch nicks jaw drop to his feet.

"this is unbelievable."

[dolligguk]

was it all just a memory?

note : a vv quick drabble, unedited, and wrote this specifically as i have a fever.

word count: 2,639

closing his eyes, all that he felt was the ache. in his eyes, in his body after consecutive hours of practice in the studio, and in his heart.

something in jungkook's gut gnaws at him. he's been feeling off since 2 years ago. its been this way till now. and now, he sits alone on his bed, face stuffed in his palms. like usual, he brushes those thoughts off.

-ding!

laughter is heard along with the voices of his fellow group members.

"jaykay! open the door!" jungkook has slight relief at hearing his group members voice, hoseok. the company of others would help keep his brain from going in too deep.

opening the door, jungkook presses his lips into a smile and hugs taehyung as he pushes in to enter first.

after all of them settle on the velvety beige couch, jungkook is busy to pull out some beer and jin reaches for the remote. the living room was warm, a contrast to the rainy and breezy weather outside.

as they all sit down and start chattering about upcoming events they have to attend, jungkook sits there quietly. jimin chugs the glass of beer that jungkook presented as the rest of the members drink little by little talking with one another. taehyung gets up to retrieve some water as he doesn't like the taste and jungkook turns to him.

"tae hyung can you give me the whiskey bottle?"

"tough morning huh?"

jungkooks tongue pokes inside his cheek as his eyes smile slightly. taehyung retrieves it as jungkook fills his glass with ice and the whiskey. instead of trying to interact with the members and even trying to listen in so hes on par with the schedules, the fizzing sound of the whiskey filling up the cup with ice, fills his ears, like slow motion, the ice hitting against the glass and the background sound of banter. the texture of everything around him, the feeling he got when he was with you, it was always the small details that took over him. the softness of the couch under the pads of his fingers as he presses them onto it, sitting back down and resting his head on the headrest. the pattern of the wooden table in front of him, the tiny puddle of whiskey the dripped from his glass and the feel of his own skin. and in these moments which never happen anymore, he hoped to be engulfed by the sweet scent and comfort of you. but it didn't come. and its like something snaps him awake, into a different reality.

taking sip by sip, his stomach churns.. this isn't right. it wasn't unusual for him to let the others talk since he doesn't really like to interfere. but that still means he does take in account what's going on around him. today however, his ears start to take in the sound of the rain softly hitting against his large glass windows, his eyes play flashbacks like a movie scene. he gets goosebumps on his skin, as if reliving those moments with you. right now felt like a mere dream.

" jungkook." you whisper.

no. no no no.

you didn't say anything, you're not even here, what the fuck?

"jungkook?" the familiar deep voice called again. and like the feel and sound of the world fading back in, jungkook blinks. his tired eyes were veiny red as they blur with tears from the pain and feel of it all.

"ya ,,, jungkook." another voice called, cold fingertips tapping softly against his bare tatted shoulder, jungkook snaps out of it.

whatever "it" was.

all the members stared at the man. he realized yoongi had been calling him. and now they all looked concerned, he was completely shattered. jungkook didn't realize that he was a mess, his body was shaking and heart was beating fast. like a in a haze of a fever. he once again closed his eyes and let out a shaky exhale. they stayed quiet, surprised by his sudden change in behavior.

in their eyes, this didn't make sense.

after jimin had tried to gently ask him what's wrong, jungkook wiped his tears and gave a small smile saying he was just exhausted after days of no break. the members weren't fully buying it but since in their minds there wasn't any other reason, they gave him time as they begin to leave after patting his back for a moment of comfort.

"so", namjoon cleared his throat softly and closed the door as he turned to face jungkook who was a little confused on why he didn't leave with the others. jungkook smiled and tried to take a few deep breaths before talking with namjoon.

"jungkook, i need to know what's been going on.. this might have been the first time but," namjoon calmly sits beside him and looks down at his lap, "you dont seem to have been okay for a very long while now, but today you just.." namjoon licks his lips and presses them flat against each other as he struggles to find the right words to express his deep concern.

jungkook stares unemotionally, his mind in other places and as if namjoon can read his mind;

"i say a few months, a few months after you two separated."

jungkook narrows his eyes before letting out a bitter laugh. "funny you bring her up"

"had a feeling" says namjoon before he slightly squints at jungkook. he sets himself comfortably on the couch, pulling out a cigarette and handing another to jungkook.

"yeah?" jungkook lights it up and rubs his eyes before smoking, staring at the other mans expression through the grey smoke he blows out from his aflush lips. his voice was quiet and raspy as he smiles sadly. "you know.. if she was here, i dont think i wouldnt be touching this cigar"

"it was all you" namjoon says taking a deep breath while flicking off some of the cigarettes end. he lifts his eyes up again, calmly continuing, "tell me if im crossing a line, but this is coming from a brother."

jungkook slightly shakes his head as he shuts his eyes and blows out another puff. before namjoon can part his lips to speak, his eyes shoot up as jungkook says something, letting out a choked whisper.

"what if i killed her?"

his head was still tilted up, resting against the couch and his fingers have already given up, the cigar burning into the expensive couch before going out, his face was stoic except the tears that had started to stream down his face, following the pattern of the droplets of rain against the glass window. jungkook tried swallowing the lump in his throat, but the ache in his heart and churn in his stomach would never go away. namjoons face showed slight shock.

jungkook parted his lips, his voice barely above a whisper. "i made it worse for her, i.. i could've helped, but my fucking ego"

"you dont know where she is"

the next day, jungkook woke up in a deep headache and on his bed. namjoon was nowhere to be found and jungkook figured that he helped him get to bed after he passed out.

there it goes again, that off feeling.

after taking a shower, he fixed his bed and changed. finally sitting down on the edge of the bed, he looked up. seeing his reflection in the wide mirror. the eye bags that had started to form made him feel even worse. this whole morning, alone, with no distraction, he was quiet. no TV, no phone, no food, and no music.

spontaneously, he got up and took his keys, he didn't know where he was going, but all he knew was that he missed her so bad that he was going insane.

"you dont know where she is"

such a small contexted sentence and literally didn't make sense. but yet, jungkook found himself crazily staring into the road, his fingers gripping so tightly on the steering wheel that his knuckles were white, clenching and unclenching his jaw. he was angry at himself. and after 2 hours of driving- no break, he started to get view of the once familiar town , soon following the neighborhood. a contrast to his. it was homey and all the houses and apartments were small and very very close, usually had a few kids frolicking around or the aunties coming out to visit each other while having the deliciously scented desserts in their hands.

today, wasn't any different. he parked his car and some kids moved out the way, staring at him, an unknown and never seen person on this street, walking to the small single apartment complex.

a few old women owned the place and took younger girls in so they wouldn't live alone in fear. his girl lived in the house beside it, with a housemate. at least from what he remembered.

his hands were shaking, heart was beating so fast and he felt so scared, practically smelling your scent and seeing you run to him smiling so widely like it was just yesterday, but it was all years ago. he shakes his head and takes a deep sigh.

man up jungkook, dont think about anything els-

a woman appeared from the small gate that lead to a yard in front of the apartment complex. she was short and had glasses on, looking like she was in her maybe 50s. Jungkook stood there and tried to compose himself to get to the point since he was still nervous, the grown woman eyed him and raise her brow, pushing her head forward to get a better sight.

"you knocked?"

jungkook stuttered, trying to catch his breath as he bowed politely, clearing his throat before gently speaking.

"hi" he clears his throat again as the lady tries to decipher him, "i-i .. im here to ask about someone that lives here?"

"in this building?" the grandma asks.

"n-no.. i think she lives close by-"

"then why are you here son?" she cuts him off feeling a bit impatient.

jungkook doesn't reply feeling so nerve-wrecked. the grandma slightly senses as she lets out a chuckle.

"you must be an old boyfriend, huh? well fortunately, i deal with a lot of those for the young ladies here, come in come in." the grandma opens the door a little wider, cueing jungkook to enter. one of her hands are on her lower back and jungkook realizes she must be tired of standing.

he doesn't know how to reply except for giving a slight nod, even though knowing this is much complicated than the grandma thinks. he helps her in as she shows him a way to a main living room that leads to staircases. jungkook figures that's where the small apartments are as he sits down in front of the fireplace in the small couch, the grandma sitting in front of him.

a young girl comes in and bows a hello at jungkook, as he does the same he realizes, they have a similar style. he exhales as the girl places a glass of tea for the grandma and leaves to the kitchen.

"s-so.." jungkook starts, the grandma was quiet and calm just slowly staring off out of the glass window, where a beautiful sight of the yard is shown.

"tell me about her" the grandma says after noticing his hesitance.

"she lived in the house by this building.. __?" jungkook slips her name out hesitantly, hoping the woman would recognize it.

"ah" she clicks her tongue and shakes her head sighing, setting the glass down and massages her temples.

"__ ah.. was she one of a kind, huh?" jungkook stays quiet, furrowing his brows at what the grandma says. "well, i'm sorry if you didn't hear, but she's not here son" she looks at him slight empathetically.

"i-im sorry.. what?"

"you said __ right?" jungkook nods not quite understanding.

"well the poor girl suffered a heart attack around maybe last? year. it was a mess for the whole neighborhood"

Jungkook's eyes widen, his brain, trying to protect him doesn't process this as he whispers. "is she fine now?"

the grandma sadly smiles but exhales, "i know its hard to believe and let go, .. but she's not here son. not on this earth."

the grandma gets up and calls the girl over for more tea. she turns around to excuse herself to the bathroom, but before says;

"if you'd like, we have a few photos of her in the bin over there, we keep all photos of people we're close with in there when we do a wake." she gives a small smile that makes jungkook's shock calm a bit so he can at least give a bow of respect and thank.

after the grandma walks away to the bathroom, the girl appears with what seems a full kettle now and as she sits down to pour some into the grandmas cup, she realizes jungkooks state.

hes shaking, his eyes opening and closing, he doesn't seem fine. she clears her throat softly and pats his shoulder. as jungkook composes himself he looks up at the girl, desperately and crazily.

"so.. how come your here, i've never seen you before."

jungkook try's to put out a smile but fails, he shakes his head ready to go. "was just looking for someone"

"__?" jungkook whips his head back.

"sorry, i heard you talking about her, its really tragic" she empathizes and jungkook gives a small nod. "d-did you know her?"

"yeah, she was a sort of friend, it was the issues with her previous boyfriend.- o-oh.. you, right?" jungkook stares off as he tilts his head and presses his lips. "yeah?"

"well she was severely depressed after you left her because of your parents, and she was not good mentally in that moment when it happened" she smiles sadly and gets up, holding the now warn kettle in her palms. "we do have photos if you want to see." she suggests.

jungkook was confused since this had never happened. his parents were never involved themselves in his relationships, but he brushes it off thinking maybe she remembers wrong and before he can decline and leave, she came forward with the photos, making jungkooks brows furrow.

"did you get them mixed up?"

the girl raises her brows softly and shakes her head, "thats __"

"im sorry, maybe you got them mixed up? .."

the girl was completely confused as she shakes her head again, "im pretty sure i would know who my friend is."

"thats __ __?" jungkook asks

the girls eyes squint, "no thats kang __"

jungkook shakes his head, terribly confused, who was this "kang __"?! his girl did not have this surname.

"w-wait? is your name minho?" the girl drops the photos and walks closer.

jungkook feels even more dumbfounded, "no, my name is Jeon Jungkook."

"oh." the girl seems to have been also terribly confused before she raises her brows.

"__ __, you say?" he slowly nods and she sits down thinking before saying; "im sorry i dont know a person by this full name, if you want to- check with the police records, maybe they know someone if shes lived in this town before."

jungkook feels dumbfounded as he drives to a police station and asking for a persons check.

"do you know her name, full name specifically"

"__ __, not to be mixed up with kang __"

"we have many __ but not with the surname that you claim."

the police man returns the huge stack of files and moves away from the computer looking at jungkook as jungkook shakes his head, a wave of dizziness hits him.

"so.."

the policeman fixes his cap and raises his eyebrows.

"so.. the person you have stated, does not exist."

[alexwritingspot]

okk um instead could you do a percy x fem!reader with prompt 1?? And could you do it so its kinda like they are already in an established relationship and throughout the week he realises that slowly his gf has been a bit more distant and nearly getting hurt in training from being so out of it, and them whilst theyre just hanging out in his cabin he asks her whats wrong n yadyada 😍😍

Sorry if that didnt really make sense but thankyouuuu❤❤

Are you alright?

Your boyfriend gets worried about you after seeing you stress out so much

Prompt 1: “hey, c’mere sit down, tell me what’s going on”

Pairing: Percy Jackson x fem!reader

words count: 1.4k

warnings: slightly mention of injury

A/n: Thank you for requesting! I would like to apologise with all the people who are waiting a fic, but lately I’ve been REALLY busy with school, and writing became impossible. 😓🧡 In these days I’ll try harder to publish as many requests as possible, thank you so much for understanding! 🧡

——————————————————————————

You were on the right front of the river. Dressed up for catch the flag you were ready to give your best. To your misfortune though, your boyfriend, Percy Jackson, had ended up in the other team. Of course, being part of the g/p’s cabin also meant ending up in the red team all the times. But you sticked with that because you couldn’t do much else.

The game started, you had a defensive role in your squad, and you were okay with it. Armour on and senses awake you examined your surroundings in search of any possible ‘enemy’ in the near area. You could hear the sound of words sparring in the distance, and that only alerted you more, they were becoming clearer by the seconds. You took out your weapon, ready to fight. The river was behind you, so it was unlikely someone would try an attack from there. Other than that you were surrounded by trees and vegetation.

A noise coming from a near bush caught your attention, you were ready to defend yourself, and eventually your flag.

But then… a sharp pain had hit your dominant arm, and you let out a groan of pain, finding yourself with a much younger camper of the blue team.

You didn’t loose another moment, you tried to move quickly, to dodge his attacks and try to get him to drop his sword, but it was useless. In the end you had found yourself, butt in the water, and the other camper having surpassed the spot where just a few moments before you both were sparring.

You didn’t even pick up your sword again, you stood there in the water, dumbfounded. How did a younger camper managed to beat you so easily?! You couldn’t believe it. Slowly you pulled yourself out of the water when you heard the horn that indicated the end of the game, your team had lost.

You made your way back to where all the other campers were supposed to reunite at the end of the game. The blue team was cheering and laughing, all of the half-bloods obviously happy of having won the game. Between them stood Percy, still happy, but less thrilled than the others, it wasn’t his first victory, so he didn’t party like the others.

It was then that he noticed you as you walked away to your cabin, quick to avoid his gaze, and when he tried to approach you, you had skillfully managed to avoid him. Saying that he was confused would have been an understatement. Why did you avoid him? And why your back was wet with water? Was that a cut the one he saw on your arm?

The next morning you presented to breakfast in a way more tired demeanour, dark bags under your eyes and sloppy movements. You didn’t even sit at the Poseidon table, which was the standard. Your arm was covered by a short bandage that cover your cut to avoid possible infections.

And then Percy sat by at your table, ignoring the glares your brothers and sisters were giving him “hey” He tried to start a conversation with you “mornin’ ” you simply said, answering back in a dry way, something didn’t feel right.

“Do you want to sit to my table?” He asked again, a slight frown on his face, green eyes holding a spark of worry. You replied dryly again “If you want” and then the two of you got up and sat at the Poseidon table. Percy attempted to make small conversations, but none of it were working, so he decided to try a different approach

“You good?” He asked, and while he was searching for the truth in your eyes you looked for at your food “yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He sighed “look at me” you were focused on your food “y/n please. Look at me?” You didn’t move your head fully, you just glanced up “I told you, I’m fine” you then stood up and walked away, leaving your plate on the table, your food almost untouched.

the rest of the week went by in a similar way, you acting off of it, and Percy worrying over you more, every day that passed. He found you in the training area, exercising with a mannequin “You need a sparring partner?” He tried, expecting once again a negative response.

Instead you hesitantly looked up and nodded your head “I… yeah, actually yes, it would be helpful” and with that you two started sparring. Percy took a mental note of how much your stance was uncoordinated, which was strange, cause you usually fought very well.

Your feet moved fast, you had only a thought in your mind

I need to win.

you usually weren’t like this, you didn’t care too much if you won or not when you sparred with your boyfriend, but this time it was different. You had to prove yourself that you knew how to fight, how to spare and how to handle a weapon.

It was that taught that distracted you and almost got Riptide stabbed in your stomach. Luckily you had been fast enough to move, and even if you fell to the ground you had avoided the hit of the celestial bronze blade.

Percy let go of his sword immediately and rushes to your side “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” But you didn’t even hear him, your mind was elsewhere.

you had lost. Again.

And even if you knew that Percy was great with his sword you couldn’t help but- “Y/n!” Percy had you sat to the ground when you came back to reality. He was holding your face and it was crystal clear the distress on his face. “Yeah, yeah sorry, I’m fine, you didn’t hit me”

He insisted to take you to his cabin to actually check he didn’t hurt you, and even if you were hesitant if you should follow him or not, in the end you both ended up in his cabin.

“Are you sure, but like 100% sure that you’re fine? Because these days you are way more absent and you’re spending all your time sparring.” Before you could reply he continued “And honestly, your movements were so uncoordinated before that…” you didn’t hear the rest.

your movements were uncoordinated

that was enough to stop your whole body to move, even breath. Percy noticed. Of course he did. He also tried to get you back to the real world by putting a caring hand over your shoulder. “Hey, c’mere, sit down, tell me what’s going on” and you did. You sat down by your boyfriend’s side and told him about the younger boy that had beat you so easily.

“I can’t even fight! He was like 10 Percy! If I cannot keep up with a 10-years-old then how will I be able to fight monsters? How will I be able to handle quests?” Now there were tears streaming down your cheeks. So that was what you were worried about. Percy pulled you into his arms “shh, please don’t cry, you’re good with fighting, I can assure you” but you didn’t believe him, you just sinked deeper in his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Please darling don’t cry, I have proof you’re a good fighter yeah?” He rubbed your back, trying to sooth you, he had no intention to go away until these insecurities of yours would have been solved. “Remember about a month ago, when you made me drop Riptide only 2 minutes into the sparring session?” He began, you weakly nodded your head, hugging him close

“And do you remember about two weeks ago when the mechanical taurus of the Hephaestus cabin who broke, and you stopped them from destroying the dining pavilion?” You looked up at him, still tight in his embrace “but-“ he cut you off “no buts, you are great, you have great skills and you have to believe in them and in yourself, trust me when I say this.”

His words sinked in. He was right, you had amazing skills and you couldn’t let the first person to win over you let you down like that. “I love you Percy” you whispered

“I love you too, with all my heart” he answered, and the two of you fell asleep like that, in each others arms…

——————————————————————————

A/n: hope this was what you were searching for babe! Thank you for requesting 🧡

[blackknight-kai]

So sorry to bother you, but while I was cleaning our fridge and listening to music, Lana Del Rey's Young and Beautiful played, I can't stop thinking about mortal fem reader with Sun Wukong being like, "Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? When I got nothing but my aching soul?" 😭

So if that's okay, I want to request a short fic about Wukong/Mortal!Reader going through this dilemma? What is he going to do? To say? I'm so sorry for this angst but I'm so HMSNDGSG 😭😭😭🙉🙉🙉

Ngl I’m forever an optimist (also I’m baby 💀 I’m like ‘no heavy angst happy ending only!’) so uh yeah 🤣🤣🤣

This may not be a full fic but here you go!

Wukong and you have discussed your aging at some point. It honestly was probably one of the things that held you back from furthering your relationship with him. But it was hard to resist because well….hes HIM. Charming and sweet when he wants to be, especially for you. You find his nature endearing and honestly? He wants to be better for you. For your life together.

Thing is though, you’re gonna age. And unfortunately it’s a sensitive topic. Why? Because it’s painful in different ways for the both of you.

You fear you won’t be beautiful or be able to keep up with him. Just a husk holding your soul…

He fears losing you in general.

Both are valid. And honestly you hadn’t told him your exact fear regarding it before tonight. Something about today got to you. Maybe it was the way your back ached? Or the way your knee popped.

But today just was not a pleasant day for your thoughts. You start to really think about your future, something you shy away from due to how depressing it seems. And Wukong can sense your mood shift. Knows something’s wrong.

It takes him a while to weasel it out of you, he brings you flowers and your favorite treat. He even rubs your shoulders and kisses your neck soothingly as you relax in a warm bath together.

When he softly asks you what’s been wrong, well you honestly don’t have the walls up to deny him an answer. Hearing your fears about your youth and beauty don’t necessarily surprise him, but it does bother him.

It hurts him to think you worry about such a thing. As if he’d ever tire of you or find you anything less than gorgeous. His main fear is just losing you entirely, you no longer being there at all…the though makes his chest ache enough to want to rip his heart out. Which he might do if the time ever came for you to disappear from his side.

He pulls you back against his chest and nuzzles his nose and mouth against your neck as he reassures you that of course he’s going to find you beautiful, no matter what. How nothing not even wrinkles would ever make him stop loving you. That he will love every single part of you from here on until the end of time. Wukong spends the next several hours pampering you and showing you just how much he loves you, and will continue to love you. He is soft, tender, and gentle with his words and touches. Pouring every ounce of his feelings for you into every action and murmured word.

He does tell you that it won’t matter if you go grey and slow down. He will care for you and be by your side as long as you let him. That you better let him, or it might kill him. He wants to be with you for every moment up to the last so that the last thing you see, hear, smell, touch, taste, and know is his love for you.

Come morning you feel better but the thought of growing old and slow while he remains as he always is tingles in the background of your mind.

His too.

And so, he makes a decision. One he will definitely discuss with you but only after he’s found the solution. Because he would never ever force something on you, not like this. But he is going to get you an option.

Months maybe a year or two later he finally has something. It’s tangible and will work. You could remain by his side forever if you so choose. But….the question now is…will you choose to do it? Or will you refuse and let life take its natural course?

He will respect your choice….but with every fiber of his being and hair on his body he hopes you choose him.

(On the flip side, there’s the alternative of him finding a way to rid his immortality but I think that’s less likely. I know there are darker sides to this but I didn’t feel like exploring that here 😊).

[mywritingonlyfans]

Your girl. // Alex Turner X Reader! (Smut)

prompt: alex feeling a little insecure about being right for her and her assuring him.

words: 3K.

warning: it's mainly riding him, bites, choking, cockwarming, and some more... well, it's my regular soft/sexual smut.

He wasn't angry with you, but he seemed distant, lost since he returned home. The cigarette dangled lazily between his fingers, and he was far from actually smoking it, the ashes accumulating excessively before falling into the air. His arrival and immediate move to the balcony made you wonder if he might be avoiding you, although it wasn't hard to tell he was uncomfortable within himself. "Al, babe," you held the dress, struggling to unzip it completely. "Could you help me with this?" A furrowed brow and a heavy sigh. He was irritated, yet he discarded the cigarette before coming over to you. You found it endearing how he kept the smoke away from you, always managing to disappear with it whenever you approached him, as if instinctively protecting you from it.

His cold fingers brushed your skin, tracing the zipper of the dress and slowly undoing it. He pulled the fabric gently, pressing his lips to the exposed area and kissing softly, immersing his nose in your scent, eliciting a smile from you. It was a familiar routine, like something done without conscious thought, yet something both of you enjoyed immensely – it was involuntary for him. "You know, I've started buying more zip-up dresses just to get those kisses when you need to take it off," you remarked with a playful grin.

…

You nestled between the sheets, free from the dress and feeling lighter. Alex wasn't any different; he was covered from the waist down and bare-chested, his arms up in the air. You curled up against him, seeking comfort as if you were two pieces of wood generating sparks, which elicited a laugh from him. He still felt like he was in another world, but being there with you was enough. You wanted to ask, wanted to know how to ease his mind, but you didn't want to pry and potentially make things worse. He lay there, looking tired, perhaps it was just his social battery that had drained, though you didn't quite believe that. When he closed his eyes, holding you tighter, you let it be; maybe he just craved silence after the hectic day you both had. You wrapped one leg over his waist, burying your face in his neck, letting his warm scent lull you to sleep. Thin sheets were the only barriers between you in the warm night, and being able to feel the texture of his skin and his arms around you made you feel relaxed and oddly secure. It was the purest sense of feeling at home.

…

Your eyes slowly opened, as if in pain. What was warm and comforting had turned cold and irritable; Alex wasn't there. You wrapped yourself in the sheet, huddling a bit before noticing the balcony light on. With lazy steps, you made your way there. He, too, had the sheet covering his lower body, a cigarette in his hand. The scene amused you, its dramatic flair matching his, and he noticed you there, not shivering from the cold but from the lack of clothing. He seemed even more exhausted, with swollen bags under his eyes and flushed cheeks from scratching, a sign you had learned to interpret as him overthinking. He had been fine in the morning; you knew he had become like this due to something at the party.

"May I?" You gestured towards his lap, and he chuckled so sweetly that you began to wonder if it was all in your head. Maybe it was just insomnia, right? He nodded. "It's okay if you want to be alone, babe," you persisted, but he assured you it wasn't necessary. Once again, it was just layers of sheets separating you both.

Before you could even rest your cheek against his chest and have him wrap you in a tight embrace once more, he took one last drag from his cigarette, even though it was barely lit, and stubbed it out, placing it aside before planting a kiss on your head. As your hips moved in a slow, tentative yet persistent rhythm and his strong hands held you close, he chuckled, making you laugh a bit too and apologize. He claimed it wasn't necessary, and as you looked at him, your excitement faded; you knew he was still bothered by something.

"Al, babe, what happened? Did I do something wrong?" Your eyes were concerned, so far calm, and Alex felt guilty about that. The problem wasn't with you. "Not you, princess." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead against yours after kissing your nose. "It was something from the party, wasn't it?" You tried again; he needed to talk about it, to stop you from feeling like it was your fault. Still, it was something so minor that he didn't feel like burdening you with it. "It's..." He paused thoughtfully, swallowing hard before continuing, "it's kind of a trivial thing."

You gazed at him, letting him know that your full attention was on him, and lightly kissed his nose. "It's clearly making you sad, so it's not something unimportant." Your fingers intertwined with the curls at the nape of his neck, and your body nestled closer to his. He relaxed in the not-so-fancy chair, surrendering to the comfort of having you in his lap. Even with the sheet, it was obvious you were naked, and his luck seemed endless that you felt so at ease with him. It was unsettling because he was aware that you loved him, yet he still occasionally spiraled into anxiety over the thought of losing you.

You displayed patience, exactly what he needed, a few more minutes under your soothing touch until his mind felt lighter. "I think it's just me, insecurities and all," his voice sounded weak and drawn-out, his hand covering his already flushed face.

You breathed in, forming a smile. Was it wrong to find that cute? "No way, Al." You lifted his chin to meet your eyes, and then noticed the welled-up tears, silent but somehow even more distressing. "Alex, babe, you should have told me," you whispered, not quite sure where to take this conversation. You held him in a tighter embrace as he struggled to fight back tears. "I think it's just my own insecurity, it has nothing to do with you. I don't want you to think that way." He shook his head, and you let your fingers trace his chest, following the path from his chest hair to the necklace around his neck.

"That's good, Alex. You can always talk to me; I wouldn't think any less of you for it, just as I don't now." You used the edge of the sheet to wipe his face. In return, he nuzzled your collarbone, gently biting it until he heard your relaxed sigh. It was intimate and timid, but it was exactly what both of you needed. He held onto your waist, his touch delicate, and reached for the upper parts of your breasts. Your hands lightly tugged at his hair, making him look at you so you could understand him better, until your mind was flooded with how vulnerable he seemed, how easily he could be hurt, and it made you feel a little guilty.

"I'm afraid of suddenly not having you, as if you'll slip through my fingers. I hate not having enough time for you, hate 'earing the sadness in your voice over the phone when you miss me and I can't do anything about it. You were so happy tonight with me, and it ‘urts to think I'll be without you for so many months soon. I know you deserve someone better, someone who fits you more, but I don't want that someone to not be me." He let out as if he was expelling all the toxic air from his lungs, his eyes even sadder than before. The fluidity of his words told you that this had repeated so many times in his mind that there was no space left for punctuation when he voiced it out.

You were speechless, your own eyes misting over. You didn't fully grasp it, but you knew you would try and make it better. He buried his face in your chest amid the sheet still covering you, his soft hair and light body surrendered to your embrace. "You've never failed me, not once. I don't want anything else... I don't want anyone but you." You felt helpless, unable to completely fix or improve the situation. Even your words trembled as they left your lips. You kissed his head, holding onto his arms and letting him stretch out comfortably on the bench. His body was relaxed, and he was a bit vulnerable, yet he still looked at you with affection. His head might be in a daze, but he trusted you. You felt more at ease, seeing that he felt comfortable after sharing this with you, even though it had burdened him. You chuckled softly, and he mirrored your laugh, soon melting as your lips brushed against his, warm and tender so far urgent.

You leaned against his shoulders, lifting your hips and then adjusting to him. The fabric was still a barrier, and your intention was simply to tease him; he gasped into your mouth. "I wish your mind would be kinder to you, Alex." Your voice caught in your throat, and he slowly opened his eyes as if he hadn't realized he had closed them. He seemed a bit sulky, his face and hair still disheveled from sleep. You were equally lazy. Your fingers danced along his jawline, your eyes meeting at the same level, then moving to his broad shoulders, your nails lightly grazing his pale, soft skin. The thought of the future marks you would leave, combined with your rubbing against him, heightened the butterflies in his stomach. He already felt breathless.

Alex was easy to handle, though you might not have noticed that this was true only with you. He was well aware. His pink lips parted as if to say something, but a soft moan cut him off as you pressed your hips between his and moved up and down. There was a mix of characteristic morning excitement and the view he had of you. You could feel him well, his entire length, as you excited yourself while lubricating him. Mornings often felt more needy, and both of you knew how to play into that, but this time it was your turn to take advantage.

His hands went to your waist, gripping it, understanding better than to disrupt your rhythm. He agreed that it was about what you wanted to do with him. Your palm followed his, the sheet slipping down a bit, granting him a better view, though not completely revealing everything. The tips of his fingers traced you slowly, appreciating every detail. He looked at you, his face flushed, and it made you smile. You kissed his shoulder and neck while making him harder and more aroused.

He held you even tighter, your chests touching, every inch of skin connected. You entwined your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling firmly and feeling yourself getting wetter as you saw his hair standing on end as you brushed your nose against him and dragged your teeth along his skin before biting him firmly and leaving with wet kisses. The low groan and his eager hips were so satisfying for you. "Trying to kill me?" he looked at you with clear desire in his eyes, his lips slightly swollen.

And you kissed them, his smile soft as he felt your touch. Your warm tongue met his until breath became scarce, and he was left with a series of your kisses and nose nuzzles. In the final one, you gently sucked his lower lip, biting it hard, and he whimpered, gripping your thigh in approval. You chuckled, a bit smug, and it indeed made him feel good, seeing you so confident. "Not really, more like showing you just how much I'm your girl." He nodded, even rosier now. At that point, you were perfectly aching, pulsing, with your head throbbing for him. Alex noticed how your knees were spread around him, focused on the movement centered at the same spot repeatedly.

"I know you are," he said, low and tender. You pressed your hand gently against his chest, pushing him back so that his head was supported. "Can you say it?" He ran his thumb over your lips, finding comfort in your sweet smile. You lifted your hips quickly, although to him it seemed in slow motion due to his neediness, and kissed him with the same intensity as before. You straddled him calmly, patiently, painfully, as his sighs were overtaken by you. He slid easily inside, and soon you felt comfortable, filled completely. "Tell me I'm your girl, Alex," you were breathless, that much was clear, and you paused, needing to adjust for a few – he was quite a thing to be taken. He chuckled, a guttural sound that vibrated through his chest, a bit too addictive considering you were so close to him. Your fingers traced his neck, almost begging for more, and he held you to stabilize you, not that you were going anywhere. He was so lost in you that it was difficult for him to form coherent sentences from the words that left your mouth.

"You're mine, babe." His raspy voice was a breath, his eyes still shining with desire. "You're my girl." He chuckled lazily, your eager hand tightening around his prominent veins, making him sound a bit breathless at the end. He was so hot and entirely yours. "I like that,"

"Do you, babe?" He gently guided his hand along your leg, his thumb reaching your clit and moving in slow circles. You moaned in relief, helping you endure him better. You let your forehead touch his, peppering his face with affectionate kisses. Gradually, you pressed tightly against him, adjusting your hips to favor your movement. His broad hands roamed around you, feeling your lower belly fill as your rhythm grew more forceful. Holding onto the sheet wrapped around you, he kept you close and firmly pressed against him. His body trembled, his eyes closed, clearly surrendering to the sensations, yet he couldn't take his eyes off you, your breasts following the rhythm, and how entangled you were with him.

He was losing control of his breathing, and you weren't faring much better. He kissed your collarbone, trailing the tip of his nose along your skin and stopping just below your breast. Repeating what you had done minutes ago, he bit into your flesh with desire, then planted heated kisses over the marked skin as your moans escaped quietly. Your nails dug into him, and by now, his hands were defined by the lines of the sheet he gripped so tightly. "Fuck, babe," he groaned, mouth slightly open, his head thrown back on the support. Tears growing in his eyes.

You leaned over him, resuming your attack on the sensitive skin of his neck, a territory you knew well. You allowed for friction against your clit with each movement of your hips, noticing him growing more restless. Your own body was involved in spasms, and you maintained the pace he wanted. You gave him what he needed, letting him have you fully, and brushed the messy hair from his face, granting you a privileged view of his features. His grip on you tightened, and as you grew more breathless, he corresponded appropriately to your stimuli. It didn't take long for your bodies to collapse against each other, your face buried in his neck, muffled moans escaping your trembling legs and weak knees. He held you even tighter, peppering your forehead with more kisses, lost in your breathless state nestled against his chest.

The sounds of your breathing mixed together, still leaving him a bit dizzy, but in a good way. He pulled the sheet over both of you, and as he unwrapped the mess, he saw that he had torn the fabric at some point. His cheeks flushed as he heard you laugh. He held you in his arms, your bodies connected, and brushed the hair from your face. Your voice was still dizzy as you said, "I must be really good at this," he chuckled softly. You were cradled in his arms, attached to his hips. He pushed the hair away from your face, and your throat was still dry. "You truly are," he affirmed, a loving gaze fixed on you.

A soul-warming silence enveloped you, comfortable and cozy. You could feel him growing solid hard within you once again. He didn't have much energy left, and you were almost falling asleep from exhaustion. This was evident in how gently you clung to each other, avoiding any sudden movements. Taking comfort in this, he stayed inside you, warm and somewhat snug. Your delicate hands encircled his waist, his arms covering you and keeping you pressed against him while the sheet did a good job of covering your bodies. You looked at him briefly, wrinkling your nose as you heard the hoarse groan escape him with your abrupt movement. Whispering, you said, "I hope this was enough to quiet your mind a bit. I don't like seeing you upset." You buried your face in his neck again, intoxicated by his scent. He observed you, realizing how foolish he was, yet there you were. "You're perfect, my dear," he said, feeling your laughter and how at peace you were wrapped around him. You were clearly a rational part of him, and he had no reason to deny that. Yes, you had quieted the noisy voices tormenting him.

"I'm your boy, all yours," he breathed into your ear, burying his nose in your hair and planting kisses on you until you fell asleep, so then the intimacy of the moment may allow him to drift into slumber while holding you.

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @indierockgirrl @bloo-wisteria @bellaturner @cosmoschaotic @nikisfwn @andrews-lovr @nela-cutie @ilovealexturnerlots

to be tagged you can just lmk or open my !google form! (you can decide in which ones you want to be tagged and also let you're request or thoughts there with me!)

...

here's my ko-fi

...

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Final Part

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve starts with Dustin. Not for any particular reason. Dustin is just the first person he ends up seeing after an entire weekend spent at Eddie's house. They'd redone their date in Indy on Saturday, getting back into Hawkins late, so Steve stayed the night. He had a morning shift at Family Video but it was Robin's day off so he didn't see her.

Dustin called at 11:00am on Monday to ask for Steve's assistance with his bike's flat tire. He needs a ride to Melvald's for a new tire tube and pump, and since Steve's shift doesn't start until 2:00pm he agrees.

Steve picks him up and listens to him ramble about his weekend and how he the tube got a hole in it. He stays in the car while Dustin runs inside to make his purchases, and then they're back at Dustin's house. Dustin knows how to change out the tube on his bike; he's been raised by a single mother for longer than Steve's known him so he's pretty self-sufficient, but Steve still offers to do it and Dustin lets him.

It's little moments like these that really let Steve feel like Dustin's brother. Which is what makes it easier for Steve to say, as he is peeling the tube from inside the tire out, "hey, do you remember a week or so ago, when you said we were happy for Eddie and me?"

"Yeah," Dustin says as he's ripping open the package the new tube is in.

"You also told me to not hurt him. I- why'd you say that?" Steve halts his progress on peeling the tube out to look up at Dustin.

He watches as Dustin turns sheepish, "I. Well, mostly I said it so that when I talk to Eddie, I might feel less bad about threatening him."

"What? Why did you threaten him?"

Dustin finishes freeing the new tube from its prison before finally looking back at Steve, "I haven't yet. Mike was talking about how Nancy gave you a shovel talk a while ago, as Eddie's 'best friend'," he makes air quotes around the words, "and I'm your best friend, so I have to give Eddie one. But Eddie's also my friend, so I had to say something to you, too."

"That's so-" Steve cuts off, because he was going to say that's so childish but Dustin should be allowed to be childish just a little longer. Part of his childhood was stolen by monsters and Steve can give him a little bit back, "that's a nice thought but please don't shovel talk Eddie. Besides, Erica beat you to it."

"Shit!"

"Language."

"Well, since Erica did it there's really no point in me doing it. She's terrifying when she wants to be."

Steve laughs because Erica can be terrifying. "Give me the tube, or do you want to finish this?"

"No, continue," Dustin thrusts the tube at Steve, who takes it with a grin and gets back to work.

Robin and he are closing on a Wednesday night, so it's been slow all day, and while Steve wants to talk to Robin, he doesn't want to be interrupted. So, they go about their shift like normal and it's only once he's locked the door and flipped the open sign to closed that he seeks out Robin in the back room, where she's counting down the till.

"Can you pause after that? I need to talk," Steve says and feels his stomach churn. He's never.... he and Robin have never had a fight, never really had any issues that required a talk. Not about anything between them anyway. Robin's always just understood him, in the same way he's understood Robin. They've never been the source of each other's pains until now.

"Yeah, of course," Robin finished the coins, marking down the amounts on a piece of paper before shifting to give Steve her full attention. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

"It?"

"Whatever's hurting you," she says. "I don't know what it is, but I knew you'd come to me when you were ready."

"It's been heard to try and talk about," Steve confesses, "because it's never. It was never you that I've been- I still don't know what to say but I know I don't want to be..." he trails off, waving his hands as he grapples for the words he wants.

"Oh," Robin whispers, standing from the desk to approach. "I hurt you. Tell me what I did, so I can properly apologize."

"When you told me to be careful with Eddie," Steve says, "after I told you about our first date. I don't understand why you'd say that me."

Robin looks pained and swallows before she says, "I'm so sorry, Steve. I shouldn't have said that. And I don't- I don't even have a good reason why I did. I know you'd never hurt Eddie. I know you and what I said wasn't even about you. Not the real you, anyway."

"So, why'd you say it, then?"

Robin frowns and looks away from him, shuffling her feet before she says to a point at the wall, "I was friends, or friendly, with a lot of the girls you were with in high school. A lot of one and done dates that I had to hear about, while they cried in the bathroom or on their bedroom floors, wondering what they'd done wrong, why you didn't stay or-" Steve winces as the reminder of who he'd been in high school comes easily out of Robin, but not for the usual reason he winces. It's not because Robin's reminding him he used to be a douche; she's reminding him of all the people he hurt and never cared that he'd done it. He never apologized, and now it's far too late even if all those girls deserve to hear it.

Robin is still speaking, "or whatever. But that doesn't matter now. You aren't that guy anymore; haven't been the entire time I've actually known you and it wasn't fair for me to say what I said. I just- you took Eddie out, and the part of me that spent years of high school consoling friends who felt used by you just spoke. I-I need to work on filtering the words that come out of my mouth, because if I'd waited like, four more seconds to process your words and settle in the fact you went on a date we both thought you'd never be brave enough to ask for, then I never would have said it. I'm so sorry, Steve. I know you and I should have known better."

Steve swallows thickly, because it hurt to hear but he also knows she's sorry and that's enough. He steps forward and sweeps her into a hug, crushing her against him. She squeezes back just as hard.

Steve has never felt really hurt about Wayne's shovel talk. It was the first, and the only one he'd say he deserved. Not because Steve deserved to have a shovel talk given to him, but because Wayne should get to have the honor of giving one. Eddie's never had a boyfriend before, and Wayne had spent so long worried about how this town would treat Eddie if they knew he was gay.

So, when Steve sees Wayne again, he just smiles at the man, and gets a genuine smile back. He and Wayne are ok.

He and Jeff apologize to each other next time they cross paths on a Hellfire night. Steve apologizes for being snappy and rude. Jeff apologizes for automatically assuming the worst of Steve. They agree to a truce and a start over.

Steve's convinced he can win over Eddie's friends eventually.

Steve can't talk to Nancy. There's too much left unsaid between them for him to feel comfortable with telling her she hurt him. But it's okay. He and Nancy aren't close friends, and she's leaving for Boston in a few weeks for college. He's sure that the distance, and not seeing her weekly for Lunch Date Day, will help.

So, he's a bit surprised to answer the knocking on his front door to see Nancy. It's an exact recreation of the day she shovel talked him and immediately Steve tenses.

"Uh, hi," he says.

Nancy takes a deep breath and says, "I'm sorry. I thought I was being funny when I gave you that shovel talk, but I- someone made it clear to me that we aren't friends enough to be able to make jokes like that. That's my fault, too. For everything I've done and never apologized for. So, I want to say that I'm sorry."

Steve's a little stumped, a bit perplexed even, so he speaks on autopilot, "It's fine, Nance. We're good."

Nancy squares her jaw and narrows her eyes and says, "no."

"No?"

"No. Don't forgive me. Not yet. Make me earn it."

Steve don't respond right away. He wants to just forgive Nancy, but when he thinks about it, he just wants to do that so Nancy will quit looking so defensive. He's not sure he does forgive her. "You're right. I- we'll work on that, then. Being friends one day."

"Good. Good," Nancy nods. "I'll see you are Lunch Date day, yeah? Or... or would you like me to stop coming?"

He shakes his head. "No, please keep coming. There's, what, three more before you're off to college? We can work towards friends in that time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Nancy gives him a small smile, "see you then, Steve."

"See you," Steve replies and shuts the door as she heads down the walkway back towards her car.

He wants to know if Eddie or Robin gave her the dressing down that brought her here to say sorry.

(It wasn't Robin or Eddie. It was Mike, learning what Nancy had done and telling her it wasn't her place to do that.)

There is one final shovel talk for the remainder of their relationship.

It's the final day in Steve's room at his parents house. He's moving in with Eddie and Wayne, at least until the kid's all graduate. Then he and Eddie might go off somewhere on their own.

He's finished packing up his things from the bathroom, and looks up in the mirror. He sees himself, and almost doesn't recognize the reflection staring back. He looks happy. Actually, really happy.

Eddie appears behind him in the mirror, leaning himself against the doorjam, smiling softly at Steve through the mirror.

"All done, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, babe," Steve says. "Just one more thing."

"Oh?"

Steve slides his eyes away from Eddie in the mirror, back to himself. He lifts a finger and points one accusingly finger at himself and says, "if you fuck this up, Harrington, I'll kick your ass myself."

Eddie's full belly laughter rings loudly in the bathroom and Steve just smiles.

[ifimdreaming]

blurb!

I cant sleep

jack hughes x reader || fluff

summary: jack wakes you up at 2am becasue he cant sleep an wants mcdonalds lol

word count: 0.6k

-

Jack tossed and turned beside you, reaching over to the nightstand to check his phone for the fourth time in the past 10 minutes. You tried desperately to ignore him, being way too tired and annoyed to tell him off. You also knew that if Jack knew you were awake he would take every opportunity to keep you awake.

Not even two minutes later Jack is sitting up in bed and you look at him confused with squinted eyes and your head still on the pillow, not wanting to lose your sleepiness. 

He begins ripping his shirt off and loudly starts fluffing his pillow, punching and throwing it on the bed repeatedly, clearly uncomfortable with how it was before. You groan slightly in annoyance and Jack turns his head to look at you.

“Oh you're awake too?” He turns to face you and lifts the pieces of hair that are covering your face so he can see if your eyes are open.

“Well I am now. Literally how could I be asleep with all the noise you're making?” you huff and turn your body to face the other way, away from jack.

“I can't sleep...” 

You feel poking at your side after staying silent, trying your hardest to ignore the irritating boy beside you.

“...Hello? Did you fall asleep again?” Jack says as he continues poking your back.

You grab his hand to stop him and kick his leg under the covers. 

“OW!”

You reach over and grab your phone, checking the time. “Jack, go back to bed its almost 2:30 in the morning!” he looks at you with furrowed brows and grips his leg, dramatically emphasizing the pain, which makes you crack a smile and laugh.

“Go. to. bed.” you sit up in bed and hold his face in your hands trying not to laugh, “im serious.” you add, trying to get your point across but he just chuckles in response, clearly seeing you fighting back your own laughter.

“I can't. I'm hungry and I really need mcdonalds.” he says as you reach over to turn the lamp on, reluctantly giving up on getting much sleep tonight. 

He looks at you and pouts his lip, and you just roll your eyes in return. You knew you'd be giving in but it was funny to watch him get so worked up about it.

“Pleeaase come with me?” jack says and pulls you in closer beside him. You sit up more and he lifts your leg over him so you are now sitting up on his lap, facing him.

“Please?” he says as he leans in to place a soft kiss against your lips. 

“Hmmm… I dont know. I think I need a little more convincing.” you say as you scooch closer to his chest and place your arms on his shoulders, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Oh yeah?” Jack leans in and leaves gentle kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He picks a spot along your collarbone and leaves marks that will definitely last for at least a few days.

“How bout now?” he lifts his head to look at you but you push it back down to your neck. 

“Come with me?” he says leaning up again and you reluctantly open your eyes, not wanting him to have stopped.

“Mm fine I suppose” you reply, and he flashes you a big smile.

“But this continues when we get back, yeah?” 

“Of course.” He says and places one last kiss on your lips, moving his hands back and forth along your thighs.

“Well lets go then hungry boy” you laugh out as you begin to climb off his lap.

“I'll get the keys!” Jack says and basically pushes you off of him so he can get dressed and get in the car as fast as possible. Leaving you laughing hysterically and scrambling to keep up with him.

-

-

[the-offside-rule]

Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull era) - Man After Midnight

Requested: yes (and thank fucking god) on tumblr

Prompt: 23) "I can't believe you're actually wearing my jumper."

Warnings: not particularly

Y/n sat on the edge of the hotel bed she visited, leaning down to tie her shoelace before making an attempt to sneak out without anyone catching her. She stood up and grabbed the clutch she had the night before and headed for the door. She stopped and paused, looking at the beautiful, gleaming silver shine of the World Championship trophy from the Abu Dhabi morning sun shining through the thin curtains. Her mind from the night before was a blur and to be quite honest, she didn't entirely want to remember it. Especially based on where she woke up.

"Leaving so soon?" She jumped at the sudden groggy voice and turned to see Sebastian laying on the bed with nothing but the bedsheets dressing him. "I don't want people seeing me here." Y/n replied. "You don't want to be associated with me." Sebastian chuckled. "No, it's not that. It's just we are teammates and this shouldn't happen between teammates." Sebastian laughed again. "Well if it eases your concious, no other driver on the grid has a teammate that's as talented as you are in the bedroom." She rolled her eyes. "What? Its a compliment." He said. "No, it's not." She retaliated. "How?"

"It implies things about me." She remembers the first time her and Sebastian slept together. It was a drunken mistake. But then again, how many times can something happen before its no longer a mistake? "Well I apologise for...what's the opposite of complimenting?" He asked. He sometimes forgot words or mixed them up. "Insulting, Seb." She replied. "Thank you, schnuki." He said. "Sebastian, don't!" She nearly screamed. He looked at her confused. "I don't see what the problem is? We always do this."

"Seb, that is exactly the problem!" She chucked her clothes back on the floor. "We always do this. This is not normal, I any shape or form! We aren't even friends!" Seb looked at her with his cocky grin still on his face. "We aren't friends?" He asked, faking a hurt voice and pouting his lip. "Shut up or I will shut you up!" He lay back onto the soft pillows behind him and flexed his arms behind his head. "Feel free to do just that, schnuki." She shook her head. "I'm not doing this again." She said. "What do you want from me? Do you just want a quickie and then for me to leave or what?" His face lost the smirk. He realised it was a lot more serious than this. "Well-" He was quiet for a moment. He didn't have anything to say for once. "What would you like me to say?"

"I mean, I'm half hoping you actually-" She stopped and picked her clothes back up. "That's I'd actually what?" He asked, sitting up. "It's nothing, Seb. I'll see you next season." She mumbled, before she walked towards his hotel room door and opened it. "Y/n?" She turned and saw Sebastian staring at her. He looked almost angelic with how the sun had shined on him. The true Red Bull golden boy. "What?" Y/n asked as Sebastian stood in the doorway. "I just can't believe that you're wearing my jumper." He replied. "If you told me at the start of the season that you would be wearing my jumper, I would have laughed." She scoffed.

"Don't be such a dick, Sebastian."

Y/n walked through the airport with her sunglasses covering her tired and red eyes. Although fans were around her, she felt like the loneliest person in existence. She simply sighed and continued walking as fans asked for photos and for her to sign things, to which she obliged and tried to do quickly as to just get to her gate and forget the pain and heartbreak of Abu Dhabi. "Y/n!" An all too familiar voice called. She lifted her head to see her German teammate jogging towards her with his suitcase and backpack.

The swarm of fans soon grew twice the size as the new 3 time world champion joined the woman who took the third place spot. "Sorry I'm late, the cab." He lied. He wasn't meant to fly back for another few days and he definitely wasn't meant to be flying to London like Y/n. "At least you got here." She smiled back. The pair shared a look before Sebastian walked in front of her and grabbed her hand. "We have a flight to catch." She looked down at his hand and swallowed the lump in her throat hard. "Very sorry guys! We have to go, but we'll see you here for next season!" He smiled, pulling Y/n away from the crowd and through to security.

Even in the lines, Sebastian didn't let go of her hand. He instead looked at everything else, such as the boarding times, and tightened his grip ever so slightly. She didn't dare ask why he was holding her hand. She put it down to him trying to prove a point. As Sebastian muttered to himself in German, Y/n decided to let her eyes wander and in doing so, spotted the prying eyes of strangers looking on. The more she looked, the more sets of eyes stared back. It all became that bit too much and she decided it was time to grab Sebastian's attention.

She pulled at his shirt before speaking up gently. "Seb?" He turned and looked down towards her. She was met with his blue eyes, almost instantly soothing her of her worries. "People are looking, you can let go now." Sebastian looked around and saw people staring at him and her, obviously confused about him holding his teammate's hand. "Let them. It's why they have eyes, schnuki." He replied, before pressing a reassuring kiss onto the top of her head. "I found what gate we're at. We can go now." He said, smiling. She simply smiled back and nodded, following him. "Seb?" He looked down to her once again. "What does this mean?" She asked. Sebastian shrugged his shoulders and continued walking. "Well, I was using this as an opportunity to show my true feelings." He looked down to her. "But I think we find out what this is together. It'd be more fun, no?" Her hand squeezed his tighter, as her other hand reached up to hold his arm. This wasn't teammates anymore. This wasn't even friends. This was something else that neither had felt before. Love, perhaps? Well, they had the whole off-season to figure it out and the rest of their lives to promise it.

[gouraminnow]

Galley on 4th

Pt. 1 (Modern AU- Yandere Thatch x gender neutral reader)

On Ao3

Raising your kid sister all by yourself is hard enough on it's own. But add classes, poverty, and several jobs to juggle and the pressure builds awfully fast. Most employers will drop you on a whim and it's all you can do to stay afloat... So when you somehow manage to land a well-paying position at The Galley on 4th Avenue, a famous, high-end place run by some well renowned Chef- You're desperate to hold things down. Good thing your new Boss is so friendly and understanding, huh?

Warnings: General yandere sketchiness. Pretty light this chapter but Thatch is a liiitle creepy. Panic attacks, reader injury, very brief mention of an overdose(not reader) and THE LENGTH OF THIS DAMN THING.

Thank you @hannahbarberra162 for beta reading this monstrosity and helping me iron out some bits!

Biking uphill is such a pain. 

It’s cold today, a soft gray drizzle gradually soaking through your clothes. The cold brings a slow, tired ache to your joints too, not at all aided by the deadweight of the backpack pulling the meat of your shoulders down and back. Your chest is almost painfully tight, the fog of your labored breath released in short, steady puffs as your left foot occasionally catches awkwardly on its respective pedal. Even through the thick soles of your work boots, you could feel the wad of duct tape you had hastily wrapped it in when you found a jagged crack down the center, “hamburger style” your little sister had said. 

At least the view was pretty. You were high up enough to see over downtown, a sliver of the beach and boardwalk, and the darkened water beyond it. Rays of light pierced through the cloud cover, illuminating sheets of rain as they fell like gauzy curtains onto the dreary cityscape below. The air smelled crisp, and if it weren’t for the chill, you might prefer to stay outside and find somewhere to relax. But your shift starts in twenty minutes. Thankfully, you’re making good time despite your exertion.

Once you hit the top of this hill, The Galley on 4th Avenue would be three blocks away. It’s your second job, and far nicer than the little diner you worked some of your mornings at. Not that the bar was all that high, of course. You hadn’t known it when you went in for the interview, but apparently the owner was somewhat famous, which explained why the place was fancier than you expected. Thatch Newgate, part of some hotshot rich family, or something like that. You had more important things to care about. At least he was nice. Hopefully this would translate into higher wages- lord knows the diner owed you one after single-handedly reorganizing and repackaging everything in storage to avoid food safety violations- but you weren’t gonna get your hopes up. At least the starting pay here was higher and the place was clean before you got there. Your sister would get mopey if you refused to bring her anything from this restaurant job, too.

Speaking of, what should you bring back for the little Grub? You didn’t get food from work often- it was a treat you save for the end of the week or special occasions. Employee discounts don’t do much, especially with how much nicer this job is. You’ve admittedly been spoiling her- you’ve only been a server at The Galley for roughly a month, and your proximity to quality food is just too tempting. There was a new soup you haven’t tried- a fragrant stew with tender lamb and little pearl onions. You could get a couple servings to take back, and some of the buttery rolls you both like. Maybe you could finally spring for one of those cartoonish roasts with the bone still sticking out, that would leave you both with leftovers. Or, you could forego a hearty main course and bring her one of those fancy desserts, instead. She hasn’t tried creme brulee before and you’re sure she’d love it-

There’s a sharp jolt, and your train of thought is utterly derailed when your front tire catches on a pothole concealed by a shallow puddle. “Ugh! Shit!” You scramble, feet struggling to steady yourself against the ground, but you’ve already lost control, awkwardly tumbling to the left and onto the wet asphalt. You catch yourself with your hand, the cold sting of rocks and pebbles digging into the meat of your palm as the sharp jolt of the impact shoots from your wrist up to your elbow. “Fuck!” You hiss, hauling your bike up onto the curb. Ugh, the water’s in your shoes. Your socks are utterly soaked. You swing your old backpack off, an old canvas thing you’d found second hand after the one you’d had since you were 12 finally gave up on this world and fell apart at the seams. Checking it over, it thankfully wasn’t soaked. You had your work uniform and a nicer pair of shoes wrapped in plastic grocery bags, but your textbooks had nothing. It was the wild west for them. Maybe you should wrap them up… following that, you properly turn your attention to your hand. A sizable scrape accompanied by a few small pebbles embedded into your skin, specks of grit littering the surface. You wince as you try to gently pry them out, wiping your hands on the front of your sweater. A small jolt of pain shoots up your arm again at the motion. Shit. Did you sprain it? Oh, god damn it!

You sigh. Well, your job is less than a block away. Grumbling, you stand your bike up, deciding to walk it for what remains of your route. You gently rotate your injured wrist as you go, trying to gauge how bad it is. It’s not quite a sprain, you think, though the adrenaline could be dulling some of the pain. You sigh, guiding your bike to cut across the parking lot and behind the building. You always lock it up there, in the nice little patio area the back door opens up into. There were a couple tables with four chairs each, and wooden benches facing inward whose backs formed a sort of fence along the perimeter. The whole thing is topped with soft string lights hung from the pale-brown awning sheltering the concrete brickwork of the patio floor. The little rest area was nice enough that occasionally some… “difficult” customers claimed to mistake it for a smaller outdoor seating area. Maybe you’d believe them, if it weren’t for both the signs saying otherwise and it being very clearly separate from where they were actually meant to sit- the much larger and better furnished patio on the right side of the building that also happens to be lacking in nearby dumpsters.

You lean your bike up against the back of the bench, securing it with an old corded lock looped through the wooden slats, and make your way inside. Pushing open the door, you sigh when the rush of warm air envelops you. You take a moment to just stand there and enjoy it, before heading to the breakroom. This was the nicest rest area you’d seen at any of your jobs, let alone a restaurant. At the diner, you’d just sit in one of the booths, but The Galley practically had a lounge in comparison. One large red couch pushed against the back wall, accompanied by a coffee table and a small, squeaky arm chair. There was a kitchenette on the other side of the room, but you’d seen your coworkers use the main kitchen on their breaks if things weren’t busy. It made you nervous, but you weren’t a snitch. In the adjacent corner to the kitchenette rests a larger table, a sturdy wooden piece a few shades lighter than the dark oak flooring. There were a number of differently colored tablecloths that could be swapped out- right now, it was a red and white checkered pattern, like a picnic blanket. 

You set your backpack down on the armchair, the bite of the old canvas straps fading into a dull ache, and roll your now unburdened shoulders with a satisfied hum. You go to fetch the first aid kit from under the sink- one of several on the premises, of course. You crouch down to open the blue laminate doors- leaning forward to grab the bright red box and-

BANG

The doors to the kitchens slam open and you jump, banging your head on the ceiling of the little cupboard. “FUCK! UGH!” You yell before you can help yourself, whirling around to see the shocked faces of… Millie, a younger coworker with promising culinary talent, and your boss, Thatch. The man is mid-wince, with a light lopsided grimace on his face as he sucks some air in through his teeth. Millie has her hands raised in front of her mouth, wide eyes framed by her messy brown hair and the big circular glasses she wears. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” She starts, rushing towards you as you rub your head, wincing at the jolt that runs through your wrist. Right. Bad arm. Your good one has the kit. Well, if there’s a good time to be injured, you guess it would be now. “I didn’t mean to slam the door like that, I just- I’m sorry for surprising you!” She continues, sinking to the floor beside you. Poor kid can be just as nervous as she is talented. It rarely fails to activate your “Big Sibling” mode, which is funny since your own sister isn’t anxious like that at all.

“I-it’s fine, kid, don’t worry-” You start, but Millie keeps going.

“Were you getting the- here, let me help! I know you’re the med student but I can take a look at your head-” She reaches for your face and you instinctively jerk away.

“Millie!” She stops, shoulders tensing, hands held against her chest. “Millie, I’m serious, it’s really not that big of a deal,” you try to assure her, but judging by the looks on their faces, your smile is just as strained as it feels. Millie’s lips are pressed into a thin line, wobbling slightly. You try again. “Sorry, sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” You reach for her shaking hands, gently clasping them between your own. “This isn’t something to get worked up over. I was more surprised than hurt, honestly. And even if I was, it was an accident. You can chill.” Millie exhales slowly, slowly relaxing a little bit. That’s good. Your eyes slide over to Thatch and his… impressive hairdo. He’s watching quietly now, arms crossed with a soft smile. “My only worry is getting in trouble for ‘unprofessional language’ at the moment.”

That earns a good-natured snort from your boss, who waves a hand dismissively. “Oh please, if I had an issue with that, I’d have to fire every line cook we’ve got. And you always get here early, so there are a couple things I’m willing to overlook. If anything, you’ve earned the profanity.” You quirk an eyebrow, releasing Millie’s hands to gather the kit and stand up.

“Kinda sounds like you’re keeping track. Is it measured? Do I earn swear words based on how many times I get here before my shift, or is it based on the number of minutes left before it starts?”

“Hmm. We can workshop it,��� he says jovially, and when you hear Millie giggle, the strained smile you’d plastered onto yourself relaxes into something more genuine. “So, what were you getting that out for, anyway?” he asks, gesturing to the kit you’d risked life and cranium for. “Does it have to do with how drenched you are? It isn’t raining that hard.”

You chuckle nervously, opening your mouth to assure him it’s really no big deal, to  just let you take care of it, when your thoughts are interrupted by Millie exclaiming “Oh!” You both turn to look at the girl, who is looking at her hands with that same wide-eyed anxious look. “Y-you, um, you bled on me? You’re bleeding?” She says, holding out her right hand to show the little bit of blood you’d accidentally smeared onto the back when you tried to comfort her.

“Ah! That’s- oh my god, that’s so gross, I’m sorry kid,” you start rambling. Now it’s your turn to be flustered. You look down at your hand, and sure enough the blood is still oozing out. “I just fell on my way here. I wasn’t thinking about it when I touched you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! M-maybe I could look at it?” Millie starts, but Thatch gently puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Nah. Why don’t you go wash your hands, and head back to the kitchen to tell the others about that appetizer idea you had? I’ll take care of our friend here. Don’t worry about it.” Your eye twitches a little bit at that. He’s not your friend- he’s your boss, and you have boundaries regarding superiors getting buddy-buddy, thank you very much. But it’s not worth mentioning, at this point. It’s small, he’s saying it to comfort Millie, and he’s already doing you a favor. He’s never actually crossed the line, you’re just… a bit jaded, maybe?

“Are… are you sure?” Millie asks, glancing between you and the blood smeared over the backs of her knuckles. 

You smile gently. “Yep. It’s all fine. Go tell everyone about the thing. And let me know too, if you find a minute once I’m up and running.” You assure.

Millie flushes, tilting her head and looking off to the side bashfully. “It’s nothing that special…” she mumbles, shuffling past you to use the sink. “We just have a lot of cauliflower and only two menu items that call for it…”

You giggle at the comment but nearly jump out of your skin when your boss lays a hand on your right arm. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, hands raised flat in front of him. “Would you hand me that? Let me see your hand.” His voice is soft, and he’s looking at you with that warm look again- the one that really accentuates the crinkles around the older man’s eyes.

You aren’t sure how to feel.

Your boss is pretty friendly, to say the least. It really threw you for a loop when you first started working- you’d been preparing yourself for the predatory bloodsuckers you were used to, the ones who’d wring as many hours as possible while looking for any excuse to dock your pay. Practiced smiles and an ego stroked by exacting power over impoverished retail and fast-food employees. Any friendliness out of these people came with an agenda, and you’d always found it endlessly infuriating how someone so pathetic held so much sway over whether or not you’d get to eat. The Galley was probably the nicest place you’d ever worked- so you expected the attitude to be similar. You went in with your guard up, but the friendliness you’ve been met with thus far seemed genuine. The way that man effortlessly pulled you in despite your reservations was… unnerving. You barely even register that you’ve handed him the bright red box until he’s already holding it. 

You blink, then mentally shake yourself off, choosing to finally shuck off your sweater. At least it’s wool, so you aren’t all that cold despite being soaked. The sink shuts off, and Millie rushes past both of you with a quick “See ya!” You smile softly again. She’s a good kid. 

“Could I take a look at that now?” Your boss speaks up gently. You look back up at him, at the concerned crease in his brow, the dark eyes scanning over your wrist.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, sir, I can t-take care of it myself,” you try to assure, tensing when he frowns.

“I’m sure you can, but you don’t have to. Hmm… it’s swelling,” he says, moving a warm palm gently resting against your forearm, slowly lifting it. Now that you get a better look at it, you wince. Shit, it’s probably a sprain after all. He clicks his tongue, eyes sliding from your wrist to your face. You don’t meet his gaze. “What happened?”

“I fell on the way here, like I said. Dumb accident,” you mumble. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at you. You start to sweat a little. Thatch knew you biked here- but even so, transportation was something you preferred to be vague about. Even if he knew you didn’t have a car, you didn’t want to draw attention to it. Incidents like this could be used against you, potentially creating the argument that you didn’t qualify for the position due to a ‘lack of reliable transportation.’ It was bullshit, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t do it. “It’s not a big deal, I promise. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time,” you insist, and he sighs.

“Do you want to take a night off? We both know this doesn’t look good…” he speaks tentatively and gently, but you still jolt, finally looking him in the eye.

“Wh-? No! No no no, it’s fine, I can still work!” You cringe inwardly for sounding so frantic. You’re reminded of a time where Grub had gone home with a school friend without telling you, sending you into hysterics when she hadn't gotten off the bus. You shake yourself off- you aren’t anywhere near that freaked out at the moment, but it was a memory that always encouraged you to calm down. “I can still… I’ll just carry less plates at one time, or something. I promise it’s fine,” you say, calmer this time, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

“C’mon, I know you’re pre-med,” he says softly, lowering your arm. 

“Yeah, so I’ve got a decent idea of how bad it is, and what my limits are,” you huff impatiently. The sooner you can go change, the sooner you get this shift over with.

“So you know that it’s probably a sprain.”

Your eye twitches. “Yes, and I know how to wrap and tape it. There’s an elastic bandage in the kit.” Goddamnit, drop it. You need this shift, you promised Grub something good to eat, and you need to get her some decent winter boots.

He tries again. “You should see an actual doctor.”

“Not bad enough to be worth it with my budget.”

“Carrying dishes out to customers could make it even worse-”

“I’ve done harder jobs in worse condition.” Your voice raises slightly.

His brows furrow. “You shouldn’t-”

“I have to!” You spit, cutting him off before you can stop yourself. “I need the fucking hours, don’t patroni-” you cut yourself off abruptly.

There’s a beat of stunned silence. The blood rushing in your ears far outweighs the clatter of dishes and pleasant chatter of coworkers drifting in from the kitchens- people whose names you haven’t even memorized yet. You tuck your chin against your chest and stare down at the floor. You… can’t talk like that. Your body goes rigid, stomach clenching. You absolutely cannot talk like that. This is the best job you’ve had. “Sorry, m’sorry, sir.” It’s a whisper, and the sentiment feels laughably hollow. Your tongue feels heavy and numb in your mouth, like a big useless hunk of lead. You’ve been fired for less. How could you be so stupid? So utterly, laughably stupid? Damn it, damn him- you’d never argued like that with other employers, you knew better. His grating, incessant friendliness, despite your caution, despite knowing from the start that it could lure you into a false sense of security, must have gotten the better of you. You got too comfortable somehow- there’s no other explanation for how you hadn’t even spared a second thought to the idea of arguing with your damn boss. Should you plead your case? Apologize again? No, it’s over. It has to be. “I’ll…” there’s a painful lump in your throat. Getting the words out feels like dragging boulders up and out of your own big, stupid gullet. “I can just go. I don’t… k-keep anything here, anyway. Nothing to… clear out…” 

There’s a movement, a flash in the corner of your eye- the shadow of a familiar raised hand is pulled from the depths of your brain and you jerk backwards, eyes blown wide, reflexively guarding your face- 

Both of you are frozen for a moment. You can feel him staring at you, hear your name being called coaxingly.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Just… Come sit down and let me wrap that up for you, okay?”

“...Right.”

You don’t really make any conscious decision to sit down so much as you just find yourself at the table in a chair turned sideways, facing your boss with your arm outstretched. His hair blocks out one of the lights from where you’re sitting, and it almost makes you crack a smile, but you don’t. You’re wordless as he gently dabs your palm with a disinfectant pad, eyes searching your blank face for something. His brows furrow a little. Does he want something? Are you being too quiet? There’s a soft inhale. “You…” He pauses, sighs, broad shoulders slumping as he leans forward- you instinctively move back, and he stops. “Sorry.” He’s quiet for a moment, maybe waiting for you to say something. When you don’t, he continues. “You don’t need to be so nervous, alright? I try to take care of my people here,” he speaks softly, laying a light square of gauze over the angry red flesh of your scraped palm. There’s another small jolt of indignation. Again with the familiarity. You aren’t his anything.

… But you really can’t risk another little outburst.

“You don’t need to work tonight,” he says, warm murmur grounding you as he starts to wrap your arm. “But I won’t make you leave, either, if you’re… Really sure about this.” Your brows furrow. You don’t understand why he’s being so… Nice. You’d had a dishwashing job before this- it was mostly fine, until Grub came down with the flu. You had to take five days off to take care of her, and once you’d come back, they started cutting your hours. Shorter shifts, to losing days, to finally being “laid off.” All because you missed five days of scrubbing plates. If you’d argued with your manager there, you’re sure he would’ve smashed a glass over your head.

You sniffle, rubbing your eyes with your good arm. “I-I don’t get it,” you mutter. It still hurts to try and speak. It’s all so embarrassing.

He chuckles, a gentle rumble resonating in his chest as he applies the little bandage fasteners. He gently turns your wrist, examining the bandaging job, before gingerly laying your arm back down on the table. “Please. You think you’re the first struggling employee I’ve had?” He asks. You can tell he’s looking at your face, but you don’t feel ready to meet his eyes. He continues, seemingly unbothered. “I try to be decent, that’s all.” You nod slowly, and he hums. “You’ve still got some time before your shift. I’m gonna go check in with the fine folk in our kitchens, and you take some time to calm down. Let me know what you decide once I get back, alright?”

You blink. That was it? You aren’t even being reprimanded? You… probably should be, at least a little bit. “A-alright,” you parrot, voice faint.

He pats your shoulder before rising to his feet. Good god, he’s tall. “Great. Think about what I said, alright?” And then he’s off.

That’s it.

You don’t move, at first. It takes you a minute of just sitting in that chair, listening to the sounds of the kitchen. Then something finally clicks and you own your body again, springing to your feet and grabbing your backpack as you scramble to the staff bathroom to change- something you manage without incident, surprisingly, considering your night so far. And when you’re done, you amble your way back to the armchair, dropping backwards onto the worn leather. You should… try to clear your head. You need to be able to act like you have yourself together when Thatch gets back.

You still aren’t sure what to make of everything. He’s so painfully nice, but you still can’t help but think you’ve really, really fucked up somehow. But one thing is certain- you have another chance, and you really don’t want to ruin it.

When Thatch finally comes back, you don’t miss the way his face falls once he sees you in uniform. “... I see you’ve made up your mind, then.” You shift under his gaze, clumsy fingers fumbling with the thick seams of the right armrest. He talks nice, and plays the part of a concerned party very well, but you still can’t help but see it all as a possible ploy to get rid of you. You needed to prove yourself, so you could stay. You had to. So you just nod.

“Yes, sir.”

- 

You have practice putting on your customer service voice. The empty smile, deliberately flexing your cheeks just enough that it looks like it reaches your eyes. The friendly voice you put on too, gratingly chipper to your own ears. The shift isn’t that bad. There are a couple tables that express concern, asking about your bandaged wrist, but you’re able to laugh it off and give a vague answer. Taking orders isn’t much of a problem. Holding the little notepad does send twinges of pain through your wrist, but it’s manageable. One table praises you for being oh-so careful with their food, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. They end up tipping very well, anyway. Multiple tables do, actually. Maybe you should wear a bandage more often.

It’s not until you’re two hours in that something eventful happens. You’re on your way to deliver an order to the kitchen staff when you see her. Millie is loitering just next to the doors to the dining area, chewing her lip with a platter of appetizers in hand- a bread basket, shrimp tartlets, some of those fancy cheeses and a portion of breaded calamari, it looks like. Millie is just staring down at them, buckling at the knees in a pigeon-toed stance. “Mills?” You call softly, and her head snaps up to you. “Millie, are you okay..? What’s wrong?”

“Ah, i-it’s nothing,” she stammers, but the way her voice is trembling says otherwise. “I o-only need a moment, a-and I’ll be just fine! It’s just fine!” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she visibly cringes, the rattle of lightly jostled silverware filling the brief silence.

“... Millie,” you start gently, crossing your arms as you automatically slip into your concerned-big-sibling mode. “It’s obviously not fine. What’s the problem? What has you so shaken up?”

Her lips wobble. “It’s dumb,” she mumbles. “Not even that bad…”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You’re a nervous kid, but not without reason. Tell me what’s up, okay?” You say, adding a touch of firmness to your tone.

She sighs, shifting on her feet, looking anywhere but you. “I-it’s just… there’s this table of business-man types, and um… a-at first they were just kinda looking at me weird, but…” Your body goes rigid. “I came back to take their orders, and one of them says I’ve got pretty hair, a-and he wants to brush it out for me? Which is j-just weird, I guess, but it made me uncomfortable, and then another one says our uniform supplier sh-should bring the skirt length up by a couple inches and everyone laughed… and another said to lower the necklines too, while they’re at it. So um… I just…” You put a hand up.

“Millie, you don’t need to say anything else. That’s fucking gross and you’re not stupid, okay?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, before looking back up with a stern expression. “Alright, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna handle that table. You’re getting an early break- go take a little bit to calm down, okay? I’m taking over as server for those creeps.”

Millie splutters, but you’re already taking the platter. “W-wait, no! I can do it, it’s fine!” She reaches out to take it back from you, but you shoot the poor girl a stern look.

“If anything happens, if anyone asks- throw me under the bus. You have my permission. I’m not gonna let you deal with that shit if I can help it, okay?” You say, maintaining eye-contact with the wide-eyed girl. “Tell me you understand.” She just nods, hugging herself now that her hands are free. Your face softens. “Great. Now go take that break, okay? It’s just fine.” You want to pat her shoulder, but your hands are full. She just nods, mumbles out the table number and a thank-you, then scurries away. You take a deep breath, before pushing the door open with your back, and spinning around to face the public dining area.

You don’t bother putting the customer service smile back on. You walk up to that table with the blankest, most unimpressed expression you can muster. They’re in a corner booth, three men in suits. Two seem about middle aged, one with dark hair and the other gray. The third is a younger brunette- he has his coat draped over the back of the booth. One raises a brow as you approach, but you don’t react. Wordlessly, you set the carrying platter down, before removing each appetizer. “Shrimp tartlets, bread basket, tempura, cheese platter,” you say flatly, retrieving the platter with your good hand, before saying the dreaded next lines. “The main courses will be out shortly. Is there anything else you need.” The men look at eachother, scoffing, one shaking his head and another doing a breathy sort of laugh.

“You’re not the girl we had before. What happened to her?” One of the older two asks.

Your eyes narrow, ever so slightly. “She’s busy,” busy taking some time to herself, hopefully. “-So I delivered your food. Now, is there anything else you would like to order?”

“How about a smile?” The younger one says, leaning towards you. 

You’re unable to keep the sharp glare off your face. “That is not a menu item. My coworkers and I are here to serve food, and nothing else. Now, is that all?” You ask, holding the brunette’s gaze. You don’t flinch, you don’t falter, not even when you jostle your injured wrist. You can tell they feel awkward, glancing around at each other. Nobody says anything for a good few seconds, until you speak up again. “Right. We’ll have the rest right out for you soon, sirs,” before turning and swiftly retreating. Could be better, could be worse. As anxious as you were about job security, you were far more pissed with men like that. You couldn’t deny you were jittery though- your nerves wrung tight with everything that had happened thus far, and the simmering anger at the idea of anyone upsetting Millie.

You just keep going, denying the exhaustion creeping through your body. Fake smile bright, voice chipper, laughing off your injury even when it sent jolts of pain all the way up your arm. You don’t pay the few comments much mind, save for the one-armed regular who frequents the bar with his friends cracking a good-natured joke about taking better care of yourself, lest you end up matching him. You snort, letting the facade slip a bit. The smile you give him is tired, and doesn’t show any teeth- but it’s genuine. “I dunno, man… I think I could pull off the facial scars pretty well,” you quip back. You almost worry that you could cross a line with that, but your worries are quickly assuaged by drunken laughter.

Thankfully, you don’t have to serve those men again. Neither does Millie. By the time your break rolls around, another coworker greets you- the tall, scruffy line cook with patchy facial hair who’s always chewing on a toothpick, what was his name again? He usually looks like he’s bored out of his mind. He informs you that the poor kid is in the kitchens again. She’d had an emotional conversation with Thatch, but he hadn’t heard the details, so you fill him in on the creeps she’d been serving. He smirks. “Ohoh. Well, those three won’t be back now that she’s told him, I can promise you that. Thanks for covering for her, by the way.” His eyes narrow. “Hey, what happened to your arm?”

You blink, barely swallowing a yawn. “Oh, th- it’s just a sprain. Fell on the way here.”

“And the boss didn’t give you the night off? No offense, but you look trashed.”

You wince, glancing at the little mirror above the bathroom sink. You guess you do look pretty tired, your eyebags are very prominent. “He, uh. Tried too? I need the hours.”

He’s still for a second, before the bored expression morphs into a pitying look, clapping a hand on your shoulder and leaving it there. “Listen, I know how lots of places are, but the boss ain’t one to screw you out of PTO,” he drawls, toothpick waggling as he speaks. “If he offers something, he means it, alright?” He says, looking you right in the eyes.

“Oh,” you mumble rather dumbly in response. He gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“Just… try taking him up on it, the next time he offers you something, alright?” He says, retrieving his hand and sauntering off. He moves with a hunched, somewhat bow-legged stance. Right before he opens the door to the kitchens, he turns to call back to you. “If it doesn’t go well, I’ll saw my own foot off! Like in that one movie with the guys in the bathroom… aw damn, what’s it called?” 

“... Saw?” you offer tentatively.

He snaps his fingers, giving you a grin. “Yeah, that’s it! I’ll saw my foot off, just like that movie Saw!”

A nervous little chortle bubbles its way out of you. “I, um, don’t want you to do that, though?”

“Well that’s good, cuz I won’t have to!” He says, flashing a grin and a peace-sign before the doors swing shut behind him. 

Huh.

He’s a nice guy. You should really get his name…

You roll your shoulders back, exhaling. You’ve got the break room to yourself, for right now. You fetch your backpack, lugging it one-handed to the table. Gingerly unzipping it, you grunt as you clumsily slide the hefty nursing textbook out of your bag. You can probably manage about half an hour of cramming before you’re back out on the dining floor. The book is dropped onto the table with a loud THUNK! Before you pull up a chair and crack it open. You ought to pat yourself on the back, you think. You’re getting a lot of shit done, despite everything that has happened tonight. You squint, staring down at your book. Ugh. Your eyes are scanning over the words, but you’re not really taking anything in. Okay. Well, you’ll get up and fix yourself some tea with the little stove. Sighing, you stand back up, trudging your way over. Wow, your limbs feel heavy, huh? You need to reset your brain. Just take a second to get your bearings. The tea will help with that, you think.

You manage to set the kettle to boil with one arm, having had to awkwardly brace it against your chest to pour the water in. You pick one of the options kept in the cabinet, until finding one that seems appealing and leaving it in a pre-prepped mug. The piercing whistle of the kettle sounds, so you turn off the little stove and pour the water. There. Time to grab your beverage and get back to it. You walk back over, sit yourself back down, and look at the page. Elbows on the table, head resting on your hands. There isn’t much left to read. Just a couple chapters, maybe? You’re allowed to annotate. Highlight text, write notes and shit. God, the text really is bleeding together though… you want to pull your hair out. You take a sip of tea, instead, letting the warmth spread through your mouth. Rubbing the heels of your palms against your eyes, you sigh. You can rest your eyes for a second. You cross your arms over the open textbook, laying your head down. Only for a second. Just for a second.

-

This doesn’t feel right.

You huff, brows furrowing at the dryness of your mouth. Ugh. You have your tea though, you think, fingers digging into the cushions of- you stop. Cushions? Wait. You’re at the table- no, you aren’t. You aren’t sitting anymore, you’re lying down-

You shoot up, hands flying to rub your eyes fiercely- wrenching a strangled yelp out of you when the taut sting of pain returns to your injured wrist. A white shape slides off your body with the soft rustling of fabric. You blink the sleep out of your eyes- it’s quieter now. You look around- you’ve moved to the couch. You fucking fell asleep. Why didn’t anyone wake you? And did you lay yourself down? You don’t remember that. Your tea, now cold, sits on the coffee table on a branded coaster, your textbook closed next to it with a bookmark slipped between the pages. And beside them, three… generously sized to-go bags. Your body goes numb. You feel like you’re gonna throw up.

Did you… pack up more food then you’ve ever taken before and then just go pass out? You wouldn’t have, right? Your hands are trembling, it feels hard to breathe- you wouldn’t. You know that. If you did, it would definitely be over. Back to stints in retail and fast food and lord knows they don’t pay as well. If you’ve blown this, there goes any chance at saving up money. You stifle a sob, pushing the ache in your throat back down into your chest. You sniffle, furiously wiping away the tears beading up in your eyes. Why didn’t anyone wake you up? It was busy! Little hiccups crawl their way out of you, feeling so much louder in this quiet, empty room. Your good hand slaps over your mouth, trying to stifle the pathetic sounds. Come on, get your shit together. You didn’t do this. You know that you would be too afraid to. It clicks into place when your eyes fall to the white fabric puddled on the floor by your feet. A chef’s coat- one a couple sizes too big to fit any of your peers.

Your boss’s coat draped over your sleeping form, the food you never would’ve had the balls to order for yourself, his aggravatingly friendly demeanor- you feel the heat rising to your face, resting in your cheeks and the tips of your ears. The familiar burn of the twin-flames, shame and embarrassment. Thatch moved you. Picked you up and laid you onto the couch himself. Who else? Millie couldn’t, and the coat was too big to fit… the Saw Guy. You bend down, gingerly picking up the white coat. You rub the fabric between your fingers for a few seconds, staring down at the garment now bunched up in your lap. Another sniffle, another rub of the eyes- and you drape it over the back of the couch with a shaky breath. 

The food smells… really good, but you can’t bring yourself to examine it properly. You sit there in silence for a long moment, staring down at your hands. You feel… far away. This is all so weird. What does your boss get out of this? Your coworkers all seem to adore him, yes, but you just…

You don’t want to get your hopes up. 

The doors to the kitchen swing open, but you don’t look. You feel a bead of sweat roll down your neck, the sensation sending a shiver through you. The familiar voice of your boss calls out to you, but you say nothing. You hear his footfalls echoing through the empty room, coming to stop on the other side of the table. You can see his figure in your peripherals. “Hey,” he calls softly.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “... Why didn’t you wake me up?” You choke out.

“... I suppose I felt bad,” he confesses. His voice is soft but… almost tight. “I have some bad news.” You immediately tense, the fingers of your good hand digging into your leg. “Well hang on, it’s not like that!” He says hurriedly, already knowing what you thought. Now you look up at him, searching his weathered face. He’s got a plain black shirt on- yep, the coat’s his for sure. He rubs the back of his neck, and there’s no hint of a smile. Despite his assurances, you feel like a fist is squeezing your heart, a thick anxious weight in your throat. “Millie came to talk to me earlier. I appreciate that you helped out, of course, it’s just…” He sighs, screwing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, he looks you in the eyes, and your gaze dips before you can stop yourself. “She went out onto the back patio to calm down like you said, and… someone had stolen your bike.”

It takes a moment to hit you. “Th-that old thing?” You breathe incredulously, eye twitching just barely. “Why the fuck… that old p-piece of..?” You stare at him. Is he fucking with you? But the way his mouth is pulled unevenly, brows drawn tight, the slight scrunch of his upper nose bridge… and his eyes are awfully soft.

“I’m afraid so,” he says softly. Your throat falls into your chest and your heart falls into your stomach. Of course. Of course! Is fucking everything happening today? You’re caught somewhere between the urge to laugh or burst into tears- you just lean forward with a choked wheeze, anxious hands pulling at your hair. Don’t- don’t break down in front of this man-

You already can’t afford a car or proper daycare a neighbor is watching your sister for fuck’s sake

Your good hand slides down to your mouth, roughly clamping over your lips in a desperate attempt to stifle the lurching wail of frustration you know is trapped in your chest. A strangled whine leaks past your rigid fingers anyway.

She needs winter boots a new coat too but the bike the fucking bike you can’t earn money without it everything is over

The couch cushions dip, and a warm hand rubs your upper back. You jolt. When had he moved? “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “Let me give you a ride? I already do it for Millie, when her dad… can’t.” You look up at him, peeking between your splayed fingers.

“A ride,” you repeat dryly, voice hoarse. “Don’t suppose you’ll be driving me to work, as well?”

“... If that’s what you need, I can make it work. It’s not like biking is a good idea with your wrist like that, anyway.” You’re quiet for a long moment. He does have a point, as much as you hate to admit it. You change the subject for now, gesturing to the bags on the table.

“And the, uh… pity rations?” You ask. Thatch snorts, leaning back and crossing his legs. 

“Millie felt pretty horrible about the bike situation, especially after the favor you did her-”

“Wh- that’s not her fault!” You interrupt before you can stop yourself. He gives you another look you don’t like, a strange warmth with a glint you can’t place.

“No, of course not,” he says, reaching over your shoulders to pick up his coat where you’d laid it out. “But you know how she is- the poor kid was broken up about it all the same. Didn’t know how to tell you, so I said I would. She made most of that for you- Genkei invited himself to help her, when he found her still sniffling over a pot of chowder.” Ah, Genkei… you remember now. Saw-guy’s actual name.

“Oh god, kid…” you mumble to yourself, shaking your head. “She’s… gone already, then? I can’t thank her?”

Thatch nods, smiling at you softly. “I wouldn’t worry about it- you can do that next time you come in. Neither of you are leaving this job anytime soon- not by my hand, anyway.”

You look to your boss, then back at the packaged food. It all still feels too good to be true, but… what option do you have, really? Even if you did still have your bike, Thatch was completely right. Biking with a busted wrist wouldn’t work out. “I just…” you start, then pause. This… puts you in a strange spot, though. You’ll… owe him after this, won’t you? Is all this gonna be hung over your head? Genkei didn’t seem worried about anything, but… but…

“What do I need to do to convince you that you aren’t in any trouble?” Thatch asks, warmth slightly cut with exasperation. You cringe.

“I don’t… I don’t know? I just…” You struggle to find the words. “... Sorry?” You offer.You aren’t looking at him, but you can feel him staring at you.

“None of that, now,” he says, waving you off. “How’s this to start? Let me help carry your things to the car.”

Well… you can’t do it yourself, you think. “Okay,” you relent, nodding. “... Thank you.”

 It turns out that when Thatch said “Let me help carry your things” he’d actually intended on carrying all of it. He had your backpack and two of the take-out bags looped around his arm, while you were left with the smallest of the three. He whistles a tune while you follow him out to the darkened staff parking area- street and building lights casting strips of ruddy yellow-orange over the lot. You trail behind him, watching as he goes from a silhouette, to being outlined in amber light, to a silhouette again- staring at his bobbing pompadour as he leads you to an old, brown ford bronco with tan paneling. You blink. The paint is chipped and worn away in places- this is an old beater car. Nice when it was in its prime, likely still efficient. You’d expected something fancier from some sort of… well, you weren’t sure if celebrity is the right term, but he was a big deal in culinary circles and he came from a rich family.

He leads you to the passenger side door. With one hand, he fishes his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the vehicle and opening the door with a smile. You blink, taken aback for a moment before you thank him, sliding in and placing the one bag you were allowed to carry at your feet. Leave it to him to make being down a limb look so effortless. You exhale, trying to relax against the cracked leather seat, cradling your wrist in your lap when Thatch slides into the driver’s seat. He turns the key, then turns to you. “How’s it feel?”

You glance at him, half his face shadowed, then back to the bandaging on your wrist. “It’s… fine when I don’t move it,” you admit. That was mostly true. You suppose there was a dull ache but you were good at tuning that out. “I’ve got painkillers back home, that should help a little…” you muse, earning a hum in response.

He starts the car, asks your address, and the two of you are off. It’s mostly quiet, just the hum of the engine and the passing streetlights. What are you going to do about the bike? You don’t have work for two days, but you can’t get a new bike in that time. You glance at your boss through the corner of your eye. You… really don’t want to rely on him for this. Calling your boss for a ride to work feels wrong. Maybe you should’ve asked Saw g- er, Genkei… no, you barely know that guy, either. Ugh.

“Uh… thanks again,” you force out, when the two of you are stopped at a red light. “Grub’s gonna be really happy about the food…”

“Grub?” He asks, and you can imagine the quirked brow even if you can’t currently see it.

“Yeah, my baby sister.”

“Ah, right,” he says, looking to you then back up at the light. “Guess I never heard you mention her name.”

“You haven’t..?” You mumble to yourself. “Well, it’s… not her legal name. I called her that once to tease her, but it completely backfired and now she refuses to go by anything else,” you explain, feeling a smile start to pull at the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles softly. The stoplight switches. “She sounds like a funny kid,” he says, accelerating forward.

“She really is.”

“You take care of her on your own, then? No parents?” There’s a sharp jolt in your chest.

“... No parents,” you confirm after a long moment. The tightness in your voice is clear. You’re worried he’ll press you for more- you can feel him look at you again.

“... I see,” is all he says, voice quiet and sympathetic. You’re grateful for it. He drives in silence for a little while, making a turn. “Got lotsa siblings myself,” he muses after a while. “All of us adopted.”

You blink, glancing back over at him- but his eyes are focused ahead again. “Oh. That’s…” you aren’t sure what to say. “I-I’m sorry,” you settle on.

He huffs good naturedly. “Nah, don’t be. Oyaji’s great. I wouldn’t have things any other way.” Another pause, another strange pitying glance. “I’m sorry. This sort of thing… none of this is easy to do on your own.” You blink- finding yourself fighting back sudden tears. His voice was so much softer when he said that, so… earnest.

Why did it hurt? Why did it feel so good to hear, at the same time? He hasn’t said anything revolutionary. Of course it was fucking hard. Is it because he’s your boss, that the acknowledgement hits you so sharply? The novelty of it all that knocks you off-kilter?

You focus on swallowing that lump in your throat again. “Thanks,” you force the word out, unsure if you actually mean it. 

-

Thatch regarded you with pity. You were far from the first employee who’d had it rough when he took them under his wing- hell, Genkei got the job a week after surviving an overdose. The ambulance ride alone put the poor bastard in debt, not to mention the actual treatment. Not that he disclosed that, but he had looked like hell during his interview and it wasn’t difficult to find out when one of your brothers has connections in every local hospital. No, Thatch was no stranger to what others would call charity cases (Though he preferred to regard them as “investments”). But matters of family never failed to tug on the Chef’s heartstrings.

He didn’t know exactly what your story was, beyond the poverty and custody over your sister. You tried to keep to yourself, bottling everything up until it was impossible to keep it in. But he could infer some things- your parents were probably either dead, or… unfit to care for children. Not unlike Millie’s parents, in his opinion- if Thatch’s father could somehow balance the amount of kids he had, Millie’s had absolutely no excuse for blatantly favoring her brothers.

… Could be worse, though… at least she had a proper roof over her head, but the apartment lot he had just pulled into left quite a bit to be desired. This complex was notorious- barely maintained structures, leased to those unlucky enough to be without alternatives. He can see you curling in on yourself the closer he gets, staring down at your fidgeting hands. 

Poor thing.

Though your reservations weren’t without merit, and he had found your earlier outburst endearing- like a sad, wet puppy snapping at him before recoiling shamefully, he wished you were more receptive to being cared for. This was a step in the right direction, he supposed, as he pulled into a parking spot in front of building eight. Your apartment was on the second floor, so he’d be lucky enough to assist you in bringing your things inside as well. Even if you were embarrassed, he needed to know what type of situation he was dealing with.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say softly, hugging yourself. 

“Well, of course. Wouldn’t do to strand you at my restaurant, now would it?” He keeps his voice soft for you. He unbuckles, opening the door, and you look back up at him in confusion.

“Wait, what are you-?”

He stops, turning to face you and raising a brow. “I’m helping you carry everything up, of course.”

He softens at the look you give him next, eyes widened and head shaking. “N-no, that’s okay, sir! You can just drop me off, you d-don’t need to-”

He tuts in disapproval, a little pearl of guilt welling up when you flinch. He knows you’re afraid of letting him see the conditions of this place, of the judgment you were no doubt used to receiving. But he wanted to see- it made helping easier. “I wouldn’t have let you carry your things to the car, so I’m definitely not letting you do it up a flight of stairs. That textbook of yours is awfully heavy, you know.”

You sputter as he exits the vehicle, and by the time you're done fumbling with your seatbelt, he’s already opening the door for you again. You breath shakily, looking up at him all flustered. “You don’t h-have to…” you try to insist, but he just chuckles, shaking his head.

“I want to,” he asserts, giving you a warm smile. You look like you’re going to say something else, but decide against it, closing your mouth and looking down with a huff. You timidly shuffle out of the car with your one bag. That one has mostly appetizers and desserts, so it’s the lightest. He closes the car door behind you, going to fetch the other bags. Your backpack, the other generously packed bags- one with Millie’s clam chowder, a seafood gumbo, and a hearty chili, while the other had two steaks with a portion of roasted vegetables and potatoes. He also portioned some of that roast he’d seen you eyeing- cut up so it could fit in the container easier, of course. He didn’t pack much seafood outside of the soup- he knew it wouldn’t keep or reheat as well.

He follows you, this time- glancing over your shoulder at him, your sweet face contorted in anxiousness. He idly whistles as he goes, slowing his pace so as not to overtake you. You’re fumbling with your own keys, standing in front of apartment number 404- when the door swings open, and a blurry form shoots forward to throw her arms around your legs. You stumble, instinctively reaching to pat her head with your injured hand- wincing empathetically when you inevitably jolt. The kid looks up with a big, gap-toothed smile, sparkling eyes peeking out from behind her bangs. “MISS HOWELL! EARWIG IS FINALLY HOME!” she shouts, earning an exasperated groan from you.

“Earwig babies are called nymphs, kiddo.” You correct teasingly. “At least pick a bug that actually has grubs, huh?” She pouts, sticking her tongue out and blowing a raspberry at you, before finally noticing Thatch. He smiles, giving the little girl a small wave. The sleeves of her sweater are a couple inches too short- the same as her pants, with mismatched patches sewn over both knees.

“Hey, who are you?” She asks, unwrapping her arms from around you and pointing at him- or rather, up at his hair. “You look like bread.” She states plainly.

“G-grub!” you exclaim, voice rising with your nerves, but Thatch busts up laughing before you can really admonish her- a hearty jovial sound. Children are children, it would take far more than that to upset him. His own family had said much worse.

“My name’s Thatch, kiddo,” he says, crouching down and extending his free hand to her. She narrows her eyes, glaring at his hand for a moment, and then his face. “You must be Grub, yes?” She nods, reaching out to shake his hand. She grips as hard as her little hands can, yanking up and down with a fervor that has him laughing again.

As she does so, an elderly woman appears in the doorway as well- dressed in loose, flowing clothes with her graying hair tied up in a bun. “Thank you for looking after Grub, miss Howell,” you speak softly- a tired, but genuine smile on your face. It’s a sweet look on you, he notes, before turning his attention back to the glaring child. She’s let go of his hand now, opting to cross her arms and attempt a staring contest.

“Oh hush,” chides the old woman. “You know I adore that girl, really- oh dear, what happened to your arm?” She asks, reaching out towards your bandaged wrist before clearly thinking better of it. At these words, Grub’s little brows furrow and she spins around, Thatch all but forgotten.

“What?! Something happened?!” She exclaims, before she sees your wrist and gasps. “Something DID happen!”

“I-it was an accident! N-not a big deal! That’s why Thatch is here- he h-helped me get home!” You sputter, gesturing to where he stands behind Grub.

“Oh, he did, hmm?” This Miss Howell turns to face him, hazy eyes regarding him with warmth. “Well, it’s much appreciated,” she says, shuffling forward to pat him on the arm, smiling widely when he gives her a nod before moving past him. “But this old woman is up past her bedtime, so I’ll be taking my leave.” 

“What! But you’re OLD!” Grub cries, earning a panicked look from you. “You don’t NEED a bedtime!”

The woman laughs, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “I just don’t have the energy that I used to, little one. Appreciate it while you have it, hmm?” Reaching the door just across from yours- 405- she glances over her shoulder and winks. “You lot know where to find me, should you need anything,” she says with a grin, earning an adorable giggle from Grub who waves energetically despite the lack of distance.

“G’night, miss Howell! See you tomorrow for tea and cocoa!” She calls, grinning brightly. As soon as the door closes, it’s like a switch flips and she’s right back to side-eyeing Thatch. You chuckle nervously.

“Sweetie, th-this is my boss at The Galley. He drove me home, and packed us some extra food to bring home. Isn’t that nice?” You prompt through grit teeth, shoulders tensed. Please, he wasn’t so pathetic as to punish you over a little kid running her mouth. That’s what they do, after all!

She glances to you, then back up at Thatch with a suspicious look. “... He’s the food guy? The good food guy?”

“Um, yeah, pretty much!” You confirm, going to rub the back of your neck but wincing at the contact. “So, say thank you, and help bring the bags in, okay?”

Oh no you don’t. Thatch would be seeing your apartment, he would not be loitering at the door with nothing but a glimpse. “Oh, I wouldn’t trouble the little lady with that,” he deflects warmly. “Let me carry the backpack at least- I won’t have you do it and it’s too big for her. Easier to just make one trip, yes?”

You sputter a little bit, brows creased in worry, but as he suspects you don’t want to make a scene out of this. He’s not unsympathetic- your nerves do twist something inside him. But he can’t help you without pushing you out of your comfort zone. “O-okay,” you nod, relenting with a shaky sigh. Grub watches the exchange with a harsh stare. He would… need to find some way to assuage the kid’s fears.

“So what even happened?” The kid asks, throwing an accusatory glance back at Thatch as he follows the two of you inside. But before either he or you can explain, you stop in your tracks. Thatch, who is so tall he had to duck to get through the doorway, can see over your head at the… organized mess that overtakes the living room. 

“Grub… what is all this..?” There’s a small tv across from a threadbare couch, behind which sits a table with four mismatched chairs, as if they’d all been picked out separately. Probably for free on some street corner, he thought. There’s one wall-mounted shelf above the tv, but other than that the only wall decorations are Grub’s artwork- unless you count the plain gray curtains. But none of that is what had caught your attention. Between the couch and the tv, various cardboard packages have been stood upright, organized in neat rows. A little to the left, beneath a cracked windowsill, the same has been done with several old cans. As he walks further, following you to set things down on your table, he sees a similar cluster of jars creeping out from underneath that, too. Some old newspaper has at least been laid underneath each collection.

Grub crosses her little arms. “Boxtown, Cantown and Jartown. Miss Howell helped me make ‘em. But don’t change the subject!” The kid says. You raise both now-free hands in a placating gesture, but roll your eyes. He snorts, setting each to-go bag down at the table, before shucking the thin but sturdy plastic down to pool around the packages inside. He sets your backpack down on a chair, and busies himself with setting out the options while listening to the two of you.

“Okay, okay,” you huff. “Biked through a puddle that hid a nasty pothole. Completely wiped out,” you confess. Ah, so that was it? You were deliberately vague with him. “... Then, uh… the bike got stolen. So even if my wrist wasn’t messed up, I couldn’t have gotten home.” Ah, now you’ll admit it, he thinks, inviting himself into the kitchen to fetch silverware and dishes. And snoop, of course. You shoot him a worried glance when he moves across the cheap linoleum flooring, but it quickly settles into acceptance when he opens up a cupboard.

“The bike? Really? That thing was old and ugly, though,” Grub blurts, earning a snort in response. Thatch smiles to himself, glancing your way, but it falls slightly once he properly takes in the contents. Three ceramic plates, three glass bowls, and a number of pilfered paper and plastic dishes- both from his restaurant, and others you’d no doubt worked at. Not that he was upset with you- it was just yet another thing that hammered home how tough you had it.

“Yeah, that’s basically what I said too,” you say, voice heavy with exasperation. “Anyway. What’s with all this?” You ask, and he looks up even though he knows what you’ll be gesturing to. “Boxtown is looking kinda sad,” you tease, and you’re right- the cardboard is a bit more scuffed than anything else, with wrinkles and torn edges abound. Not shocking- it was the least durable of the three options. Thatch passively takes note of the brands on the cluttered containers within view- generic or knock-off brands, several of those bright, eye-catching clearance stickers.

“Um, they’re having a fine- a fininal- a f-” Grub struggles for a moment. “The economy is really bad there,” she eventually settles on as he fetches a bowl and a plate for each of you. As much as he’d like to sit down and share a meal, he wants as much of this going to your mouths as possible, rather than his own. He has no need for any of it.

You huff with a shake of your head, and he notes that you don’t give him another frightened face when he returns to the kitchen for silverware. “Okay, fair enough,” you say, before crouching down to examine the jars lined up under the table. He opens a drawer, noting the way it sticks as it slides out. The silverware is just as limited, three or four of everything supplemented with plastic utensils and paper-sleeved chopsticks. “What’s going on here, though, Grub?” You call out. “This jar still has tomato sauce left in it!”

“That’s Jartown’s famous murder house! Tourists love it!” She calls jubilantly as Thatch approaches the table once more, bounding over with a big grin. The split second her eyes meet Thatch’s again, she forces the cool, stern glare back onto her little face. He laughs softly, setting out the utensils. This isn’t gonna push him away, the kid is absolutely adorable. It warms his heart to see her so suspicious on your behalf. He’d pinch her cheeks, if he thought he could get away with it.

You stand up from where you were squatting, stretching your back. Your shirt rides up, exposing a strip of your stomach, and it’s harder than he’d like to admit to not look directly. Settling with a deep breath, you fix your sister with a sly smile. “Jartown’s famous murder house should’ve been condemned ages ago, kiddo,” you tease. “Clean it up or we’re gonna get ants again.”

The kid groans, slouching exaggeratedly and lurching forward with her arms dangling limply. “Fiiiiiiiiiiine, but only because the ants suck,” she grumbles, dropping to her knees to fetch the offending container, and scurrying past him once she’s got it. 

“Well, look on the bright side,” Thatch finally speaks up again. “There’s plenty of food waiting for you when you get back, hmm? Some might think it’s a bit late to eat, but I say there’s no such thing. Want me to tell you your options, or leave it as a surprise?” The returning Grub actually stops, seeming to think on it- examining all the opaque white containers while her fingers idly fumble with the pilling on her sweater. You’ve turned your attention to her as well, no doubt waiting for her to choose.

“I think…” She pauses for a moment, holding her chin between her thumb and pointer finger. “I… I want a surprise. I wanna find out when I see it.”

“Your house, your rules, kiddo!” He exclaims, and she speeds toward the table, clambering on top of a wobbly chair. She looks at her options. One bag with three tall, plastic containers of soup, one with three sizable white boxes stacked on top of each other, and the final bag with several small boxes containing appetizers. She leans forward, palms firmly planted against the table, before picking the top box from the second bag. Ah- the roast that had you so enamored. Not a bad choice, if he thought so himself. Her little hands struggle with the cardboard clasp for a moment, before finally maneuvering the flimsy hook out of place. The box pops open- the scent of a well-marinated cut flooding the air.

Grub’s eyes go wide as saucers behind the curtain of her bangs. She looks at the tender slices of meat, and then up at Thatch in dumbfounded silence- the previous glares and exaggerated disdain completely absent. Now she looks at him like he’s just given her the cornucopia. His heart clenches at the sight. It hadn’t even taken a day to win the poor kid over, huh?

Then a mischievous little grin curls across her face, and she points up at his hair again. “Do we get that, too?”

“GRUB!” You shout, but he’s already cracking up. The rascal is a delight, and so are you.