hanging cups

Finding Shiro in S3 be like
  • Keith: [searching through a crowd] We're never going to find him.
  • Lance: Hang on. [cups hands around mouth, shouts] KEITH ISN'T FIT TO LEAD VOLTRON!
  • Shiro: [barrels through the crowd] WhAT tHE FUCK dID yOu jUsT SAy, YOU LITTLE SHIT
  • Lance: Found him.

I vow to love you at 2 in the morning, when your cheek is pressed against the bathroom floor after numerous shots of vodka.

I vow to love you at 10 in the morning, when you’re sitting on the couch with a duvet wrapped around you, nursing ‘the worst hang over ever’ and you’re grateful for the cup of coffee I hand you.

I vow to love you at 4 in the afternoon, when you try to kiss me with your frosting covered mouth because there isn’t a day that passes where you don’t eat cake at 4 in the afternoon.

I vow to love you at 9 in the evening, when we’re a tangle of limbs on the pull out couch and you’re trying to keep your eyes open because they hadn’t quite gotten to your favourite part of the movie yet.

I vow to love you at 3 in the morning, when you’re covered in sweat and your hair is plastered to your neck and forehead because you’d been having nightmares again. I vow to love you especially then.

I vow to love you at 6 in the morning, when you’d just fallen asleep and the morning sun will turn your hair into a light shade of brown and your face will look so peaceful, untwisted with emotion.

But most especially, I vow to love you at all hours of the day and night. I vow to love you even with greying hair and wrinkles. I vow to love you even when you make horrible, dirty jokes all the time. I vow to love you, for as long as I still walk the earth. Even if I’m bedridden, or if i’m rocking a wheelchair. I vow to love you even when your demons become too strong. I vow to love you then. Especially then.

—  Z / An Excerpt from A Book I’ll Never Write #13 Vows

Kid sister is now trying to figure out the basics of what she needs for her first apartment other than furniture… Having done apartment life for a long time before I got the house she came to me for help. Here’s what I came up with. See if you fine folks can think of anything I’ve forgotten.

  • An all-purpose cleaner like 409.
  • dish soap
  • A SHOWER CURTAIN (I’ve forgotten that one before!) with a liner and rings to hang it.
  • dishes, silverware, cups
  • a silverware drawer organizer
  • measuring cups and spoons
  • a spatula
  • a can opener
  • a tupperware type product
  • curtains (not sure if there are blinds)
  • sheets and other bedding
  • at least one good skillet and two sauce pans
  • a casserole dish/cake pan
  • a cookie sheet
  • a toilet brush 
  • a plunger (better have that one on hand before you NEED it!)
  • extra pillows and blankets for couch-bound guests
  • some kind of air freshener or scented candles and a lighter
  • lamps
  • light bulbs
  • broom
  • mop
  • vacuum
  • any kind of washable rags or kitchen towels
  • scrubby sponges
  • a closet organizer or shoe rack to make the most use of closet space
  • magic erasers
  • an old toothbrush to clean nooks and crannies
  • a SERIOUS first aid kit
  • bottle opener and corkscrew
  • kitchen trash can and bags to fit it.
  • a sewing kit
  • at least one passable table cloth
  • any and every kind of tape you can think of
  • Batteries…. And then MORE batteries.
  • a flashlight
  • a doormat to minimize what you track in
  • a bath mat
  • super glue
  • more ponytail holders than you think you will EVER need
  • a SOLID bookshelf
  • an extension cord or two
  • a power strip or two
  • a post office packet to ensure the mail is forwarded to you
  • Scissors… MORE THAN ONE PAIR
  • laundry hamper/basket and detergent
  • a hammer, small nails, and screwdrivers in both flat and phillips… (because you WILL have to assemble shit)
  • Bug spray (better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it on hand!)
  • ALL SIZES of ziploc bags
  • a waterproof file box of some kind for important papers
  • a cutting board
  • at least one good sharp kitchen knife
  • an iron and ironing board
  • a bucket
  • tissues
  • a dustpan
  • at least one wall clock
  • bath towels

I left off things like a TV and microwave intentionally because I know she does have those, and shower/soap/hygiene products because she’s got that covered as well. That’s where I left off… Anything you folks want to add?

Chai Tea Latte / Sam Holland

Rating: PG-13 for language 

Requested: nope

Summary: you walk into a coffee shop hoping for something that tastes like home, and Sam makes sure you get what you’re looking for. 

Fall had just turned cold. The kind of fall that includes the brightest red leaves and the crunchiest brown ones. The kind of fall with the prettiest red apples and pumpkin patches. The kind of fall that blew crisp winds right through the layers of clothing you’d worn to keep warm. 

It just made you miss home even more. The trees and the smell of the air just made you want to leave your new home in the dorms of your college, and return back to your home town where you were familiar with everything. Home where your friends were, and your family and all of the landmarks you could point out in your sleep. 

Home, where you knew you could get a chai tea latte.

You hadn’t thought your favorite fall drink was that uncommon, but you had wandered in and out of four coffee shops in search of one in the last week and your search so far had been unfruitful. Now, you rounded the corner on foot to a coffee shop you’d heard a girl who sat in front of you in your morning class speak about less then an hour ago. 

You opened the door to the quaint looking shop, a bell on the top of the door jingled and you stepped in, instantly enveloped in the warmth of the shop. Not only was the shop physically warm in a way that made your muscles relax, but it felt homey, comfortable and lived in in all of the best ways possible. 

“Hi, I’ll be right with ya,” A boy at the counter called, stepping behind the counter further to answer the phone on the back wall. As he stepped back, you noticed another boy stood in a tan apron behind the counter, washing a much with one towel over his shoulder and the other hanging from the cup, making a motion to clean the cup with his wrist. He looked up from his work, humming a song that YN vaguely recognized. His eyes caught hers and he stopped humming abruptly, doing a not-so-subtle second look to take her in. 

“Actually, I can help you now, if you want,” He offered, putting the towel and mug down and running his hands over his apron, stepping closer to the counter, the light making his freckles more clear, his face flushed at the way he’d unintentionally started for a second at the customer who was undeniably gorgeous. 

“Um- yeah, thanks,” she said, shoving her phone in her pocket as she stepped up to the counter as well, warming her hands by rubbing them together slowly. She raised her eyes to scan the menu one last time to confirm her suspicion. No ‘Chai Tea Latte’ or anything that sounded similar was listed and YN felt silly for acknowledging the way her heart sink in disappointment. 

“Um, you don’t happen to do chai tea lattes here, do you?” She inquired softly, a bit embarrassed as she usually wasn’t the type to ask for anything not on the menu. “Sorry, hun, if it’s not on the menu, it’s not sold ‘ere,” The first boy that had stepped away moments ago butted in from further behind the counter, Yn nodded quickly in understanding. “Okay, sorry to bother you with asking, just wondering-” YN said, slightly embarrassed at the clear cut rejection, even though it was really nothing personal. 

“I’ll just get-”

“Actually,” The freckled, brown haired boy who was closest to her interrupted her. “Chai Tea Lattes are one of my favorites, I make them for m’self sometimes, I could try and make one for you if you’d like? I just don’t want to disappoint-”

“That’d be amazing,” YN said, her heart lifting in her chest at the surprising victory. “If it’s not any trouble, I mean, I don’t want you to go out of your way?” She spoke more tentatively now. “Nah, don’t worry about it, yeah? m’ manager’s a bit of a dick, excuse my French,” The boy spoke in a hushed voice over the counter with a laugh. His nametag read ‘Sam’ and his cheeks were ever so slightly flushed at the prolonged interaction with the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. 

“I’d be happy to make you a chai tea latte,” He smiled, glad that he didn’t have to rush their interaction, as there was nobody queued up behind the pretty girl who looked excited and relieved. 

“If you’re sure it isn’t any trouble-”

“It isn’t at all, can I get your name for your cup?” He questioned, reaching down and pulling milk from the mini-fridge beneath the counter, YN watched his muscles flex as he did and tried to keep her mind on-task. 

“Yeah, of course, it’s YN,” she informed him. He nodded, and stopped himself from telling her how pretty her name was, how pretty her voice and eyes and hair and clothes were. How he was so glad he had offered to take her order. 

“Perfect,” was all he said, “I’ll bring it right out to you as soon as possible, YN, are you dining in or out?” He questioned, trying to sound casual when he really was hoping she’d say she was planning on staying inside the shop so he’d have a chance to talk to her again. 

“Uh, In,” she spoke, cringing at how she probably sounded so unsure of herself, she’d never counted talking to strangers as one of her strengths. 

“Sweet,” Sam said with a small nod. “How much is something on the board? Is this enough? I think I might ‘ave some change,” YN began to dig in her pockets, holding out a wad of bills in Sam’s direction. “No, no, don’t worry about it, off-menu items are on me,” Sam grinned, watching her face morph into the pretty smile he had become enamored with in such a short amount of time. “No, really, you’re already going out of your way, at least let me pay-” 

Sam turned his back, carrying the milk towards a blender that sat on the back counter. He turned over his shoulder, grinning at the smiling girl on the other side, who had by now stopped digging for change in her pockets. 

“I’ll bring this out for ya’ YN,” he said over his shoulder with a grin, she smiled back at him and put the money away, walking softly to a booth in the back of the shop. She set her bag down and sat down beside it, crossing her legs and settling in.

She put in her earbuds but didn’t push the volume of her music up too loud so she could hear her name being called in case Sam needed to get her attention. She had put in her earbuds at just the right time to miss the conversation between sam and his manager. “She has the hots for you. Maybe you can land a date, Sam I am,” his manager teased, Sam disliked very few people, but his manager was definitely one of them.

His manager had very little respect for others and always came across as brash and uncaring. “Shh, she can probably hear you,” Sam spoke as gently as possible, turning on the slender to drown out the sounds of their conversation. “Whatever, latte boy,” and finally his manager left him alone to his work.

Meanwhile, YN pulled out a worksheet one of her professors had given out earlier in the day and began to scribble down her responses to the questions for a moment when Sam came out of the kitchen, two mugs placed delicately in saucers which he balanced on a tray. He spotted YN in nearly no time and in quick, careful strides made his way over to her. “Alright, here’s your very own chai tea latte, ooh- I forgot whipped cream, I can run back-”

“No, Sam it’s totally fine, this is perfect,” they smiled genuinely at each other.

For a minuet Sam forgot the circumstances, and that he was wearing a name tag, but thankfully stoped himself from inquiring how she knew his name. “Alright, I hope you like it it’s probably not outstanding or anything because I figured it out myself but I’ve been perfecting it for a while so-” Sam felt his hands getting clammy and a little shaky as he set the cup down in front of her softly.

She lifted the cup from the saucer and Sam didn’t realize it might be a bit creepy that he was still standing there next to the booth, still holding a mug and saucer containing a second latte he’d made for himself.

She lifted the cup to her face and inhaled, a smile coming over her face, she blew softly and drank just enough to get a taste, hoping not to burn her mouth and look foolish in front of the cute boy who had gone out of his way to make her the drink she hoped would placate her homesickness even if only for a short while. The aroma engulfed her, warmth radiating from the cup.

She let her eyes examine the contents of the mug for a few seconds, noting that Sam had made a shape out of the cream in the cup, and took note of the white heart that sat stationary on top of the rest of the latte.

The brown cinnamon that lightly dusted the top of the drink reminded her slightly of Sam’s freckles and she tried not to get too head over heels for him just yet. “Sam, this is amazing,” The review was better than he had dared to hope for, he felt his entire body relax.

“Really? You don’t think it’s too-” “Not at all, this is perfect, I can feel an addiction forming already,” YN joked and Sam laughed at her joke, eyes crinkling. “I’m so glad it’s not bad,” he admitted, leaning the tray against his hip carefully so it wouldn’t spill. “Oh trust me it’s great, you made this yourself?”

She asked, taking another sip. Sam nodded, usually not one to bask comfortably in any kind of spot light. “Well done, this is better than the ones at home,” she said, feeling a bit guilty at the confession, but it was the truth. Sam felt himself blush, feeling even more embarrassing that the blush probably didn’t make him seem so cool or hot to the girl in front of him, who could have any boy she wanted, Sam figured to himself. “Where’s home?” Sam asked, shifting his weight and tentatively setting down the tray.

YN didn’t seem to mind as she quickly began to speak of her home town in great detail, everything she loved about it and who she missed there. “Sorry, I bet you can tell I’m a bit homesick,” she laughed, taking a quick drink from the cup again. Sam smiled sympathetically, beginning to sit down across from her in the booth before beginning to shoot up again.

“Oh, you don’t mind if I sit here, do you? I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything or that I have a right to sit with you or anything I just-” “I’d be happy to have you sit here, Sam,” And that was enough to have Sam’s face turn slightly fuchsia.

“So, where’s home for you?” YN inquired as Sam sat down across from her, setting down the tray and beginning to sip from his own cup.

“Actually, it’s only a few streets down,” Sam said, pointing behind YN. “Just that way’s where I grew up, m’ parents still live there,” YN’s eyes widened as she drank from her mug, a smile blossoming on her lips. “Really? That’s so nice, do you see them often?” She questioned, knowing that the close proximity didn’t ensure a great relationship. Sam nodded.

“Yeah, they ‘ave me over all the time for dinners and stuff, especially when my brothers are all home, which is rare, cause there ’re four of us,” he chuckled, sipping on his drink. The two of them sat there comfortably as if they’d been friends for a long time, much longer than a few hours. By the time the shop was closing, YN looked around at the mostly empty place.

“I hope you didn’t get in trouble for just sitting here with me all this time,” YN spoke sincerely, a smile still on her face as she packed her things into her bag.

“No, not at all, my shift was ending just as you walked in, if I’m honest, I just wanted to stay and talk t’ ya,” Sam admitted and the two of them shared another smile, walking towards the door together, sending short waves towards Sam’s manager who remained behind the counter. “Well, next time we can go somewhere that isn’t your workplace,” YN offered with a grin.

“Next time?” Sam echoed with glee. “Oh, I don’t mean to force you into any plans, I just-” YN’s voice was silenced by Sam wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing a bit in a gentle hug.

“I’d love that, YN, maybe next time we can find somewhere that will sell us all the lattes our hearts desire,” he teased. “Yeah, maybe we can become latte connoisseurs,” YN giggled and Sam had never found the thought of something more appealing in his life.

Paint It Black Part Two (mobster steve fic)

Summary: you were signed to work for Grant. Not to fall in love with his right hand man.

Word Count: 4.3K (sorry!!)

Warnings: a few small deaths, threatening bucky, scary bucky,scary Steve

A/N: you may have seen this before if you were following my old blog @caplanbuckybarnes i am moving all of my old works from there and putting them onto this blog. Feedback is highly appreciated, please leave a comment.

Paint It Black Masterlist

Bucky sighed heavily as he stepped out of the car and walked into the small diner, seating himself at the counter. Moments later, a beautiful broad walked over to him, a gentle smile on her face.

“Hiya,” she smiled. “What can I get for you today?” You instantly recognized Bucky as he glanced up from the salt and pepper shakers he’d been observing.

“Just a cup of coffee, please. Black, no sugar.” He ordered without giving the menu you had placed in front of him a second glance.

You nodded mutely and walked over to retrieve a white cup hanging above the draining board near the stove and brought it over to him and turning back around to retrieve the coffee pot sitting on it’s burner. Your hands shook slightly as you poured the coffee into the cup, causing a small amount to spill on the counter. You quickly apologized and turned around to retrieve a napkin, only to turn back around and see that Bucky had already wiped up the mess with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Accidents happen, sweetheart.” He smiled.

“You’re Bucky, right?” you asked, nervously fiddling with the napkin in your hand. “We met last night at Natalia’s bar.”

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Friendly Advice

This is for my Drabble Game and is written for a lovely anon.

Prompts: “Trust me, I’m dying inside. You just can’t tell.” and “Tell me a secret. Your deepest darkest secret.”


Imagine Bilbo trying to get you to admit your feelings for Fili.

The writing in your journal seemed to blur together as you wrote and you lifted your head. The sky was dimming, the horizon a faded pink and the sun a melting orange against the pale sky. You did not know why you still wrote. Perhaps the habit of it kept your thoughts from dwelling on what you could not change.

“[Y/N],” A soft voice broke your trance and you looked over to Bilbo as he stood to your side, “Are you alright?”

“Perfect,” You lied as you snapped your journal shut, “Just writing.”

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Taking a break-ish for as long as I feel it’s needed.

I feel like I cannot participate as much as I would like to around here, I am simply scared of joining in.
I am always terrified I will say something wrong and offend someone.
There’s so many overreactions in this community, well, everywhere online, and real life too if we have to really get into a longer conversation, sigh, but it would make getting to the point be an endless journey.
And I’m afraid I would simply stop believing, and forget to hold on to that feeling.
I’m a person who’s always careful over careful before I write a comment to anyone’s post, even my own shit I post, on MY blog, I delete 20 times before posting, cause I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, misspell someones name, or forget the color of a sims hair.
I weigh every word a thousand times, rephrase my sentences and calculate what could go wrong, to the point of me re-writing most sentences at least twice before posting.
And still it will get me in trouble.
I do everything by the book, make sure I leave absolutely no trace of anything that could remotely offend anyone, yet I end up having stepped on someones toes?
Which brings me to the point, that it seems to me, that I can no longer be the bad guy then?
Or perhaps I offend simply by breathing?

The internet is like this: If you want to get offended, you will.
You will be able to find something wrong in every single word another person posts. You will feel attacked. Humiliated and hurt.
Based on absolutely nothing.

I have this theory, that I shouldn’t apologize, unless I did something wrong.
Now, I know there’s nothing offensive in anything I write, cause I’m scared shitless to write anything that could get misunderstood.
I always over analyze everything I say or do, to the point of things just not even mattering any longer, before I get to say or write what I wanted.
I am not a person who’s afraid to apologize when I know I did something wrong.
I am in fact a person who apologizes way more than I should.
But I have gotten to a point where I am beyond done, when it comes to apologizing for things I know I never did.
There’s no longer any fun for me, when it comes to leaving comments on anyone’s posts any longer.
Since I always write too little, too much, or point fingers at people I never pointed fingers at.

I know I haven’t done anything wrong, yet I am the person, who today has a hard time getting out of bed, constantly replaying in my head, if what I wrote yesterday, how I expressed my opinion in a calm and polite manner, if that was in fact a wrong doing on my behalf?
Or if the fact simply is, that a few people seemed to feel  they got stepped on, when I didn’t even stretch to move my feet half enough to even be near enough to their feet, to step on them.
It’s funny how a term like ‘some people’, or ‘few people’ can turn into EVERYONE?
I mean, the spelling isn’t even similar?
I’m not a person who says something, and then leaves a lot of hidden codes behind my words for everyone to decipher.
I say what I mean.
I’m a quite honest person.
So when I use terms as ‘some’ or ‘few’, I quite literally mean some or few… it’s not a code for EVERYONE.
Furthermore, when I express that what I write is my point of view, it means, that this is how I personally see thing. It does not mean that this is the reality, and I am calling the author or any of the other people commenting out.
It simply means, my point of view, the way I see it.
From my perspective.

Bottom line is, I am tired.
I am tired of re-writing myself, I’m tired of not daring to leave a comment on something when I feel like I have something to say.
Whether it’s something of value, or simply to show my engagement.
And above that, I’m tired of getting so nervous of doing something wrong, that I don’t even dare to be myself on my own blog.
Cause what if I said or did something someone would misunderstand.
It would quite sure be the end of the world, right? Not my world, but the one I offended.

It’s easier to just stop commenting, I think.
It spares me trying to wrap my head around all the billion people in the world, trying to figure how not to offend a single one of them.

I have social anxiety, no, not the charming kind that are so popular on social media these days.
The real, terrifying one, the one that makes me be locked away in my home for months, because humans are too scary to be around.
No not cute scary.
Hyperventilating till I turn blue in my face, scary.
Trying to make any form of comment on anyone’s post is a HUGE thing for me.
Getting told I should probably be more careful with my words in the future, when I am already so over careful that I can no longer breath, is like, telling a broken plate to stop being broken.
It’s pointless.
Or telling a scared kitten to just stop hissing.
It’s always the kitten who has to stop, not the person who drove the kitten into a corner.
(And I throw in another edit here: the person who told me to be more careful didn’t say it in a harmful way, we had a long quite fulfilling conversation about it, where she agreed I did nothing wrong, but that does not mean the whole matter disappears from my mind)

However, I will take the advice and be more careful, in the sense that I will be more careful sharing any of my thoughts.
In the sense that I will take not one but ten steps back, and once again evaluate, if this community has a place for me or not.
I must say, on days like this, I feel as if I have stepped into a kindergarten.

If everybody was half as careful as me before they say or post anything, the internet would be a very quiet place.
What a bliss.

Cheryl Blossom: maybe never -Smut-

Request: a cheryl x fem!reader request please, where the reader and cheryl were friends with benefits over the summer and no one knows. when veronica shows up, the reader starts showing interest in her and they go to the dance together, making cheryl jealous. later at the after party at the blossom’s, the bottle points first to the reader, then veronica, but before they can go into the closet, cheryl grabs the reader and shows everyone just who she belongs to

Notes: Halloo. I’m back. I haven’t been writing for a while, because of technical issues with my bitch ass internet. Buuuut, its working now so yay! Ahhhhh this is is probably going to be short. I’m sorry, babies. I promise tho I have another Cheryl x Reader smut coming up on Thursday. Wednesday, I’m going to be busy with me mama, my niece, and my sestra. Soooo ye. I LITERALLY NEVER PROOFREAD SORRY. 

Warnings: Hmm, SMUT AF. I don’t feel like being kinky rn so, you already know its just basic as fuck sexy time. Jealous!Cheryl. Alcohol. Sigh, just fingering. Sorry I’m being lazy. Veronica x Reader, a lil tiny bit tho. Ughhh a shitty ass ending, as always. Dassit.


Oh boy. What a fucking summer I had. I had done so much shit I never thought I’d do. Like go skinny dipping, party like all night, fuck Cheryl Blossom, be fuck buddies with Cheryl Blossom, drink all day everyday and other unusual things. But, can you believe it? Me and Cheryl fucking Blossom. Its fucking crazy. In case you don’t know what all the hype is about, Cheryl is like the most popular (and hottest) girl in school. So, for her to come at me and start this whole thing, was holy shit. Of course no one knew what we did. All they know, is that Cheryl has made a new best friend. Since it was the last weekend of summer, Cheryl was throwing one of her huge ass parties. I also heard that there was a new girl in Riverdale. Um..Veronica. Everyone keeps saying she’s sexy. I haven’t seen her yet, so I can’t say the same. The party had started and I was already late. So, I lowkey sped my way to her house. There were already teenagers hanging outside, with red cups in their hands. You could hear the music from a mile away. I literally had to push through people to get inside. Once I spotted Cheryl, I made my way towards her. “Hey Cheryl.” I called out excitedly. When she saw me, she nearly ran over to me. “Y/N, heyyyy.” I could tell she was drunk, you could smell the tequila on her breath. She went back to what she was doing, while I wondered around the huge house. I saw a girl, who looked as lonely as I did. She looked fairly new though, that must be Veronica. She was, might I say sexy. I wanted to be the first person she knew, so I decided to take it upon myself and go speak to her. “Hey, you must be Veronica. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.” I said as we shook hands. “Hi Y/N. Yeah I’m Veronica. Are her parties always this-” “lit? Yeah totally. She is known for having bomb ass parties, and other things that I certainly will not speak of.” I laughed nervously. She chuckled at my stupidity. “Um, do you want to like go dance? I’ve had people tell me I’m a pretty good dancer.” I said as I pumped my fist awkwardly into the air. She cracked up at my lame jokes. “Yes, totally. I would love to see how good you are at dancing.” I nodded, while linking arms with the taller girl, and dragged her to the center of the room. My back was facing her front, as she wrapped her arms around my waist, bumping and grinding to the beat. The music got more slower and sexual, and our bodies got closer. With my hands in her hair, and her lips on my neck, I could see the jealousy on Cheryl’s face. “Okay, everybody get in a circle and grab an empty bottle, because we’re playing spin the bottle bitches!” Cheryl yelled over the music, while everyone cheered and did as they were told. I grabbed Veronica’s hand and pulled her on the floor. Everyone had their chance to spin, so it was my turn. I spun the bottle again, and it landed on Veronica. The boys whooped and hollered as I turned to face the girl next to me. We leaned in close, but before our lips got to touch, I was being pulled by the hand out of the room? I looked to see who it was pulling, I saw the fiery red hair, who I knew belonged to Cheryl. “Cheryl, the fuck are you doing? What happened?” Once we were behind closed doors, I was being pushed against the door. “What are you doing with her?” She asked. “I’m being friendly.” I said pretending to be oblivious. “Friendly my ass. You were basically fucking her.” “Cheryl, what are you talking about She’s new, I just wanted to be her friend.” She rolled eyes as I stared at her innocently. “You will never think about another women as long as I’m alive. And that’s a fact, babe.” I knew what I was in for, and I loved it. Cheryl snaked her hand up under my dress. “Hmm. She’s gonna know who you belong to on Monday.” I moaned at the feeling of her fingers inside me. “Oh, you like that, sweetie? You like the way my fingers curl inside you?” I moaned again, while she pumped in and out of me. “You think Veronica could make you feel this good? You think she can make you moan this loud?” I nearly screamed at the pleasure. “No, baby. She can’t make me feel this good. She can’t make me feel like you do.” I purred, as my hands got tangled into her hair. “Good girl.” She said as she groped my ass. My hips jerked up, while I reached my orgasm. I could feel my legs shaking. She pulled her fingers out and sucked on them. “Once we go back out there, you’re sitting with.” She ordered. I just nodded, since there was no fighting with Cheryl.

  • likes to cuddle a lot
    • no this is not funny or cute or considerate he will drape himself over u like ur an actual body pillow and he will not move for hours. you’d better have your phone charged. bitty learned the hard way
    • altho it’s a fun time for the other stoners like one day you’ll come into the haus and jack, shitty, lardo and maybe nursey’s in a cuddle pile on the disgusting couch
  • laughs at EVERYTHING (like any other stoned person but it’s just weird seeing jack not being a hockey robot)
    • he once started laughing at the concept of a hockey puck. why is a puck like that (“like what, jack?”) like…. that
  • asks concerning questions “what if the ice in faber broke” “what” “like, what if you got checked so hard u broke through the ice and there’s water underneath and u go for a nice lil swim” “Jack the ice is stable enough to hold a bunch of huge jocks–” “I’m gonna break it tomorrow and see what happens. bitty do you think there’s fish in there” “JACK NO" 
    • "BITTLE why do u make so many pies” “…because I’m a baker? I love baking???” “but that’s… there’s so many pies. how do you do it” “i bake them. with ingredients. Jack are you okay” “THERES SO MANY PIES BITTLE” “jack please get off of me my phones dead and i need to charge it i beg u" “ARE YOU A PIE WIZARD”
  •  he gets intensely focused on the smallest of things. again, bitty learned this the hard way when, not only is he pinned down and bring spooned by a giant hockey man, the giant hockey man decides to count every single freckle on his face. or almost pokes your eyes out trying to measure your super long eyelashes with a ruler. what the fuck, jack
  • gives and requests affection. he once called his dad asking if he loves Jack. "of course I do, Jack. why do you ask” “aw that’s good I love you too papa i give u a lot of shit but ur the best dad ever sorry for pooping in the stanley cup” “what–” “*hangs up*”