#I’m gonna log on one day and this website will just be fucking gone I know it

[uprightbat]

It’s a weird feeling when you’re heartbroken for people you’ve never met. Best of luck Jess O’Brien and Jason Oestricher, as well as everyone else affected by shitty fuckin layoffs.

[emwritesfootball]

Sotto Voce: Chapter Four | John McGinn

Word Count: 1,549 Warnings: 'audio' descriptions of semi-public sex, mentions of being tied up and multiple orgasms

- - -

She spends the next few weeks going through TheScottishLad’s audio portfolio. He’s got the standard scenarios, but they’re even hotter to her than the audio she occasionally listens to and she can’t explain it. John’s name is on her lips with every orgasm, but she quickly grows accustomed to her ‘new normal’. Her lust for him increases tenfold, but at least she’s got her new Scottish audio porn to get off to now.

There are a few she can listen to over and over again while still cumming as hard as the first time she heard it. Among them is the very first audio he put out because it makes her think back to all the times she’s worn one of John’s kits to bed and woken up in it the next morning, grabbing coffee and breakfast in it without him saying anything; it’s what she’s secretly always wanted to happen, and now every time she does it, she can’t stop thinking about the audio whenever she reaches for a mug and hears John’s sleepy voice behind her. Another one of her favourites is just five minutes of TheScottishLad stroking himself, his breathing and occasional grunts and groans go straight to her clit each time.

The audio titled ‘Mutual Masturbation’ is by far her favourite. TheScottishLad spends nearly fifteen minutes edging himself as he talks her through her own orgasm. She always has at least two orgasms when she listens to it, especially when he says, ‘Cum for me, love’ in the thickest Scottish accent she’s ever heard, her pussy spasming around the toy as she cums hard.

When she’s finally through all of his audio catalogue and is waiting weekly for content, it’s easier to figure out. It takes her longer than she should have to put the puzzle pieces together, but once she does, she can’t unsee it.

TheScottishLad is John McGinn.

Or, more accurately, John McGinn is TheScottishLad.

All of the weekly audio drops are based on something that had happened a week or two prior, and it blows her mind. She goes through TheScottishLad’s page again, her mind racing as she puts it all together. The week before his first audio, she’d worn his kit to bed and he’d caught her in the kitchen before she’d changed. The sexual tension had been palpable (to her at least), and now she knew he felt the same.

The bathroom audio - the first one she’d stumbled upon - was uploaded the week after she’d hung out with him while he was getting ready.

There are a few other similarities that match up with her theory, but she doesn’t have complete proof yet. Her first thought is to confront him, but she doesn’t want to be wrong or end up scaring him away.

After his most recent upload, she gets her idea.

***

TheScottishLad’s most recent audio somewhat corroborates her theory.

She hates that she presses ‘Play’ without a toy in her hand or any sexual frustrations she needs to get out; this is purely for research, and a part of her wishes it wasn’t.

“Look at you, all dolled up in your sundress,” is the opening line, and she gasps. “Your hair frames your face as your eyes meet mine across the room and you give me a small smile. I smile back, watching you blush as you look away, trying to focus on something - anything - else.”

She can picture it now. It’s almost exactly like last weekend's team get-together at Tyrone’s place. She was wearing a sundress and her hair had been styled to frame her face. At one point, she and John had shared a look across the room; she’d been certain she’d hid her blush from him well, but maybe she hadn’t. She pressed play again and TheScottishLad continued…

“We both know what’s coming next, but we have to wait. After all, we can’t fuck in my friend’s place.” A pause and he chuckles, the sound making her pussy clench around nothing. She tries to remind herself that she’s just doing research right now, but her body can’t stop betraying her.

“I mean, we could, but we run the risk of getting caught. Does that make you wet, love?”

“Yes,” she can’t help moaning out loud as she pictures John coming up to her at the party last weekend and whispering that question in her ear.

“‘I can’t take it anymore’ I whisper in your ear when I’ve had it,” TheScottishLad says and her eyes flutter closed as the fantasy comes to life. “I know you want this. I do, too.” He lowers his voice. “Meet me in the upstairs bathroom in five minutes.”

The audio continues, the sounds of steps and a door opening and closing setting the scene.

“It’s been five minutes,” the voice resumes, and she pictures John waiting in the upstairs bathroom at Ty’s place for her. “Where are you, naughty girl?”

The door opens and shuts again, and he whispers, “Finally.” The sounds of kisses fill her headphones and she imagines being pinned against the bathroom door by a needy John McGinn. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says in-between kisses, “but you were just as needy as I was, weren’t you?”

It keeps going on until TheScottishLad makes the girl in the audio cum quietly, and she has to stop it there. Her body is flushed from head to toe and she’s sure she’s breathing heavily. She wants John to make her cum like that, but she isn’t sure how to make it happen.

***

The next morning, she wakes up feeling more than a little sexually frustrated. Her mind had been racing all night and she’d been unable to get herself off no matter how hard she tried. All she kept picturing was John with every audio she played - even the ones that weren’t by TheScottishLad - and she knew she wouldn’t actually be able to cum again until John’s cock was inside her or she found out the truth; whichever came first.

“I found the best audio porn recently,” she blurts out as John’s making breakfast, hoping to shock him.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, seemingly unfazed as he stirs the eggs into a nice scramble. “Good for you.”

“I’ve never cum so hard in my life.” Now she’s really pushing it and she hates that he doesn’t really react.

“Better than with a man?” John turns off the heat, transferring the eggs to their respective plates and handing her one of them.

She shrugs, a smile playing on her lips. She’s got him right where she wants him. “Honestly? I’m not sure. It’s been over a year since I’ve fucked anyone - I’d probably cum from a kiss or the right touch.”

A flash of something unrecognizable flashes in John’s eyes but it’s gone a moment later before she can truly get a read on it. “Makes sense. Your body’s probably so sensitive at this point.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums in agreement, taking a bite of her eggs. “I’m sure the next guy I hook up with will end up making fun of me for cumming so quickly.”

***

Since her confession, all week she can feel John’s eyes on her when she’s preoccupied or her attention isn’t on him. She doesn’t call him on it and he doesn’t press her for any additional information after breakfast that morning.

A sick sense of glee fills her when she logs into the website to find that TheScottishLad has uploaded his new weekly audio. She’s almost certain it’s John now, especially, when the audio starts.

“Look at you, all tied up in my bed,” he chuckles, and she knows it’s him. He’s disguised his voice well, and anyone who heard him speak like this wouldn’t even put it together that it’s him. Except she has, and only because she’s paying attention and knows what to look for. “You’ve been a little tease all week, love, and I’m gonna make sure you regret it.”

A moan escapes past her lips as she thinks about being tied to John’s four-poster bed. She’s sat on it plenty of times as she’s watched him get ready for match days and training, and she knows how plush it is - and how good it would feel to be restrained and at his mercy.

“Don’t think I didn’t read between the lines earlier this week - I know exactly what you need. You told me you wanted someone to help take the edge off because you were sick of having to do it yourself. Don’t worry, love - you won’t have to do anything. I’ll make sure you get all the orgasms you need.”

John keeps speaking as he does various things to the girl in the audio, drawing out almost five orgasms before he stops. “Good girl,” he praises over the sound of the restraints being untied, the praise going straight to her already-sensitive pussy.

A wave of jealousy washes over her as she realizes that John might already have a girl he’s been using for these audios. The girl always seems to be silent, but her jealous brain can’t think of any scenario other than that.

The day after John’s audio drops, she decides to play one last game. She calls in sick to work on Monday, finally putting her plan to work.

[steppedoffaflight]

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 16

Catch up on Chapter 15 here

“So,” Danica is the first one to speak, “When are you supposed to see him again?”

Your shoulders slump at this. “He’s in town this weekend, but I don’t think we’re gonna see each other.”

Mary snaps to attention, her eyes locking with yours. “Why not?”

Everyone seems to be on the edge of their seat, waiting for more details with bated breath.

You shrug, but Mary only narrows her eyes. “I think I’m gonna end things,” You keep your voice light, stirring the ice in your now-empty glass.

or

Summer’s coming to an end.

Word count: ~8.2k

Chapter Sixteen October 2019

Those few rushed nights with Van are all you get in September. 

The band’s schedule is less jam-packed this month, and Van promises over text that he’ll be around soon. He responds to you more often, and is able to fit in some phone calls more often when he’s on smoke breaks, even if sometimes he accidentally calls you at three A.M. and has to go to voicemail. 

You know you should be excited to see him again, but you can’t stop remembering how awful you feel each time he leaves. With September under your belt you’re more adapted to his absence, feeling a little more steady on your feet. Wouldn’t seeing him again just fuck it all up? 

Maybe you could still be friends with Van, as long as you kept a little distance between you two. Maybe if you gave yourself some space this month you could accept that Van was just a best friend with a spotty visitation schedule, and not cling to him so tightly. You make a pact with yourself to take October off of seeing Van, with the exception of phone calls and texts. That way you could keep him at arm’s length while you get your head together.

Even making that promise to yourself gives you a rush of relief. Your September funk had been much more serious than you’d realized, and now that you were starting to shake it off you knew you couldn’t jeopardize it. You’d started having regular weekend brunch with Mary at the diner again, and had gone out with the girls at work for drinks after one of them secured a huge client for the company. Everything was starting to fall back into place in your world, returning to the way it had been before your birthday weekend in San Diego had tipped everything over.

\\

On a Monday morning midway through the month, you’re dashing to your desk after running hopelessly late. You’d forgotten to plug your phone in last night, so it’d died in the middle of the night, and your body’s natural clock had woken you up on way too short notice. Thankfully nobody seems to notice as you slide into your cubicle, eagerly tapping the enter key on your keyboard to wake your computer up. 

Your phone is still dead in your bag, and you dig it out before rustling through a drawer for your work charger. As your phone starts to boot up you focus on your computer, using your credentials to log in. You take a moment to collect yourself as everything loads, smoothing your hair down and taking a sip of your coffee you’d poured into a travel mug before rushing out the door. 

You’ve caught your breath by the time you get your browser open and your email loaded. The subject line of the third email in your inbox immediately catches your eye: Y/N OPEN THIS NOW IT’S IMPORTANT

It’s from Danica, one of the girls in your coworker friend group.

The new martini bar on Melrose finally opened and we want to get drinks Friday after work!! Let me know if you’re in!

Getting drinks on Friday sounded fun, but you had no idea what she was talking about. Yeah I’m in, you send back, but what martini bar on Melrose?

You take a quick trip to the bathroom, and when you come back there’s a response at the top of your inbox. She’s linked the website for the bar, and it does look pretty cool. The decor is crisp and modern, and from their ‘about’ section it looks like they’re bordering the fine line of being a club without trying to attract the student crowd. 

Oh, cool! Do you care if I invite my friend Mary? From the photos it looks like the sort of place Mary would be right at home charming everyone at, so you can’t resist asking. 

Once Danica has given her approval to invite Mary, you finally unlock your phone, ready to send a text to her about Friday night. That’s when you see Van’s message.

Guess who’s gonna be flying in on Friday?

Your blood instantly runs cold. Oh shit.

\\

It only takes that simple text to throw you off kilter. How can some words on a screen do that? 

You swipe Van’s message away, hoping to forget about it. You couldn’t, of course, but you’d made a promise to yourself not to see him and now he was trying to mess that up! You’d have to say no. You knew you’d have to say no. Technically, you had plans. And, more importantly, you were not going to spend the weekend crying your eyes out over some stupid guy! It was a no. For sure. The only thing is that you’d have to figure out how to say it.

You proceed with texting Mary about the martini bar, and then decide to focus on work for the day. You were already behind from running late and time wasted emailing Danica, so you needed to get going. It would be good for Van not to have an immediate response. You needed some time to word things in a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. After all, it’s not him- it’s you. 

But after an hour of some market research you pick your phone up again. Omg I just made plans for Friday, You respond with an emoji of a facepalm. You get back to work, ridiculously proud of how you’d brushed him off. Take that, Van McCann. You would not be dropping everything to see him.

\\

Van doesn’t respond until the next afternoon. That’s alright! Saturday?

You bury your head in your hands where you’re sitting at your favorite cafe booth on your lunch. Lord, he was making this so fucking hard.

It isn’t until you’re home, fresh glass of wine in hand, that you reply. Idk. So swamped with work lately.

\\

To keep your guilt at bay, you actually do swamp yourself with work. Van has dropped the subject of meeting up for the moment being, but you know he’ll bring it back up with a vengeance. You don’t know if there’s been one time he’s been in L.A. this entire summer that you two haven’t hung out, and knowing he’s not the type to let subjects drop peacefully leaves a pit of dread in your stomach. 

You smother said dread with the market research you’re currently doing for some sort of waterless shampoo for dogs. It was a successful enough product, given that there were already a few brands on pet store shelves. The only issue is that you were at a loss when it came to what was supposed to make this particular brand special. The client couldn’t answer that question herself, either, so this was essentially a THC-water-rerun where you use up the research budget, don’t get anywhere, and the client eventually gives up. 

As you remember the THC water, your fingers reach across your desk for a pen, so you can jot down a reminder to send them a thank you note for the products they’d sent you. Van had informed you during one of your phone calls last month that he’d brought the bottles on tour, where one night the boys chugged the entire pack. According to him, they’d all actually gotten high. Plus, you’d like an update on how they were doing with their new marketing team. You’d managed to call in a favor from a different firm with more THC experience, who was genuinely interested in taking them on. Hopefully now their product was getting the attention it needed. 

\\

On Friday morning, you wake up sick to your stomach. You’d barely slept, your mind tossing Van’s impending visit back and forth the entire night. He hasn’t texted you about it since you’d brushed him off on Tuesday, and now you were filled with the sinking feeling that he was upset with you. Which, first of all, was a ridiculous thought. You hadn’t done anything wrong by not clearing your schedule for him! Certainly he understood that you had your own life and your own job, and not everything revolved around him. As much as you wanted it to.

And that was the real problem, wasn’t it? The more that Van was sweet and understanding, the harder it was to force yourself to reject him. You literally wanted nothing more than to come home from having drinks tonight and find him curled up in your bed. You were putting yourself through this torture, and it wasn’t even necessary!

But it is necessary, you remind yourself. Look at you! Losing sleep, stumbling around while your stomach does somersaults just because you were so hopelessly in love with Van your body couldn’t bear the concept of having to opt out of seeing him for one weekend. How were you ever supposed to create some distance between you two?

You’re a zombie at work, jumping at your phone each time it buzzed. It was never Van, only the group chat of everyone going out tonight. You let them discuss their outfits and designated driver situation amongst themselves, trying to force yourself to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done to help a client apply for a patent today. 

\\

You startle when your phone vibrates on the bathroom counter, almost falling into the damp sink. You lurch for it with the hand not currently running the flat iron through your hair, sighing in irritation. The group chat has continued to go off incessantly all day, keeping a steady stream of anxiety and adrenaline running through you. What could everyone possibly need to fucking talk about when you guys were about to be face-to-face in less than an hour?

It’s a text from Van. Just got in. 

Although it solidifies the nerves in your stomach, there’s some sort of relief that what you’ve been anticipating has finally happened. Easy flight? You can’t resist responding.

Eh, He says, lots of turbulence.

With no mention of meeting up, your shoulders release the tension they’ve been carrying all day. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s the girls, and you hurry to order your Uber while you finish up your hair and put the final touches on your makeup.

\\

Martinis on Melrose is hard to see from the main road, and it takes your driver a minute to find his way into the parking lot. The name is glowing in a dark blue neon script across the smooth cement of the exterior, casting a glow on all of the sleek cars crammed into the lot. You’re glad you don’t have to worry about finding a spot as you shimmy out of the backseat, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and trying to find your footing on your heels.

Two of the girls are already here and have reserved a table for tonight, but Theo is still en route dropping Mary off. You pause just outside of the front door, eager to stall, and dig around in your purse for your pack of cigarettes.

It’s the quiet before the storm, that moment before you walk into a gathering where you like to mentally brace yourself for the night to come. No offense to the girls, as you enjoy their company a ton, but you’ll always be an introvert at heart. Having a quick cigarette is the perfect way to calm yourself down, get yourself ready to be social for an extended period of time. Your first puff sends relief rushing through your brain, a craving satisfied. 

As you watch your exhaled smoke glow blue from the fluorescent lighting, you feel a pang of disappointment in yourself. You can’t believe Van’s managed to get you hooked on nicotine. Oh, Van. The disappointment in your belly blooms larger, deeper. Disappointment that you won’t be ending your day wrapped in his arms, comforted by his company, his charisma that had weaseled around your introverted tendencies until you felt right at home with him in your space. Disappointed that you don’t have him by your side tonight, your hand in his, anchoring you to the moment. Disappointed that after the fiasco over this weekend, you had the feeling that you’d never be able to remain just friends with him.

“Since when do you smoke alone?” Mary’s voice has you crawling out of your skin, dropping your cigarette from the scare.

“Shit,” You hiss, further disappointed that you have to stomp your cigarette out when it was only halfway done. The cement is so fresh and clean you decide to lean over and pick the butt up, depositing it in the trash directly to your right by the door. “Just getting my head in the game,” You respond to Mary.

Ever the extrovert, she clearly doesn’t understand, blinking at you as she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I fucking love that outfit,” She changes the topic.

You glance down at yourself. It’s actually the same one you’d worn to Lou’s birthday party, complete with the uncomfortable heels and the denim jacket to help dress it down. Looking down at your toes you remember trading shoes with Sam, arguing with Van in hushed tones on the deck stairs. You hadn’t known how deep your feelings were for him then, but you remember how his jealousy both pissed you off and pleased you at the same time, an indication that he might want your arrangement to go deeper than friends. That memory falls into the disappointment abyss when you realize in hindsight how that never happened. 

“Thanks, but look at you!” You beam at her, gesturing to her own dress. It’s a silk slip that looks like you might see a Kardashian posing in it on instagram. It makes her legs look a mile long, and she’s gone braless, always on trend. She’s got her right hand wrapped around a sleek clutch bag, and as you two head into the bar she holds it up.

“Don’t let me get drunk and forget this in the bathroom or at the table,” She warns in a low tone.

“I’ll try,” You mutter, as the hustle and bustle of the club surrounds you two. “But I’m in need of a few martinis myself.”

“Long week?” Mary eyes you after she scans the room. You’re doing the same, looking for the table Danica had texted you they were at. 

You spot the table, starting to head to it, Mary following along. “Oh yeah,” You nod enthusiastically, realizing how emotionally drained you’ve been since Van’s text on Monday.

You introduce everyone to Mary before sliding into the curved booth, exchanging greetings. One of the girls pass you a menu that you look over with curiosity. You need something strong enough to forget these last two months.

Your focus on the menu fades when your phone buzzes against the glossy tabletop. Just as you reach to check what notification has appeared the server comes around to get you and Mary’s drink order. While she opts for a cosmopolitan your eyes quickly flit over the page, your brain scrambling to read the different ingredients in your hurry.

“I’ll have an endless summer,” You recite to the waitress, smiling at her as she hurries away to relay the order. She leaves the menu so that the girls that haven’t arrived yet can look over it. 

As soon as she’s gone you grab for your phone again, unlocking it to see a text from Van: Wanna do lunch at that diner tomorrow? It’ll help with that hangover

You’d told him about your plans to go out for drinks, and his thoughtfulness makes your heart ache. Why does he have to be so fucking nice all of the time?

“Is that Van?” Mary interrupts the wave of sadness welling up in your chest. Everyone has stopped talking, Mary commanding the attention of everyone per usual. 

“Um, yeah,” You respond politely, despite the urge to reach over and strangle her. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and your cheeks burn at the way Mary’s just exposed your Van situation to everyone. 

“Who?” Danica asks, tilting her head as she takes a sip of her drink. “I thought you were single!”

Realizing your coworkers had no idea about him, Mary’s face lights up in joy. You hate her for it, internally groaning. There’s no way she’s going to let you get away without telling everyone what was going on. 

“Y/N hasn’t told you about Van?” Mary asks, leaning in excitedly. Danica and your other coworker that had arrived early, Nicole, are suddenly at attention, waiting for you to explain.

“Hey, hey!” Olivia- forever the loudest coworker in the office- calls from behind your shoulder. She’s sauntering effortlessly on stilettos, Mia trailing behind.

Olivia makes a big scene of plopping down in the booth, Mia shuffling in next to you. Whereas you’re the quiet counterpart to Mary, Mia’s the same to Olivia. You’d always liked Mia, the way she never seemed stressed or worked up over office demands or drama; she tended to let them roll off of her with a quiet shrug. You tended to stay away from Olivia, however. While Mary radiated an outgoing, enjoyable charisma, Olivia radiated an air of lead-cheerleader bitchiness.

The commotion of Olivia and Mia’s arrival has successfully diverted the conversation to how hard the restaurant had been for Olivia to find, and everyone forgets about the Van topic. You sigh in relief when the waitress comes back around to collect the new drink orders, gingerly setting a glass full of sunset-colored alcohol in front of you. It starts deep red at the bottom with the cranberry juice, and somehow fades to a soft orange by the middle of the glass, a pale pink at the top. You suck at your straw eagerly, ready to have some alcohol in your system. It’s overly sweet and burns as it goes down, but Danica and Nicole are already one drink ahead of you, so you’re trying to catch up.

“He’s an annoying motherfucker,” Olivia is complaining about her husband, tossing her phone back into her bag with a scoff. Mia murmurs agreement next to you, and Danica is asking her some question about wedding venues. Danica’s not engaged just yet, but it’s clear she’s desperate for a proposal from her boyfriend. 

Oh, to be surrounded by friends in couples. Mary has chimed in about some pet peeve she has about Theo, and you let their conversation fade to the background of your mind as you pick your phone up again.

This weekend doesn’t really work for me at all, you text Van. It physically pains you to press send, but you know it’s what you’ve got to do. He’s not getting the hint!

“Oh! Y/N!” Danica suddenly exclaims, and when you look up from your screen she is gesturing excitedly, like the words are on the tip of her tongue.

“You were gonna tell us about that Victor guy!” She finally spits it out, and the spotlight is on you again. 

“Van,” You correct absentmindedly, before realizing you’d missed the point. You clear your throat, tucking your phone in the pocket of your jacket, deciding not to check it again. You couldn’t handle Van possibly becoming angry or hurt. “Um, there’s not much to say!” You laugh nervously, glancing at Mary as a call for help. “He’s my best friend.”

“Besides, you, of course,” You hurry to assure Mary. She rolls her eyes in amusement, unbothered.

“He’s her best friend with benefits,” Mary stirs the pot. Everyone’s interest in you had started to fade with your lackluster explanation, but at the mention of the benefits they all perk up again. 

“And get this,” Mary gestures excitedly, and you’re relieved she’s taking over the storytelling. “He’s the lead singer of this band that’s fucking huge in the U.K.”

“No way,” Danica’s eyes widen.

“Yeah,” Mary nods. “We met him after they played a show at the House of Blues in San Diego.” 

“When?” Nicole pipes up, scooting in closer. 

“In January, when I was there for my birthday,” You tell her. 

“You’ve been with him since January?” Danica asks, clearly shocked. “You haven’t said a word!”

You open your mouth to respond, but are interrupted by the waitress passing out another round of drinks. You take the last few sips of your first martini, then stick your straws into the next glass. 

“Girl, explain,” Nicole demands, earning a laugh from everyone at the table. 

“Hold on,” You laugh, feeling a bit more comfortable with their interest. This whole thing has been weighing on you, after all, and now you’ve got the chance to get some fresh opinions on what you should do. Without further ado you hold the straw of your drink between your thumb and forefinger, swallowing it down in a matter of a minute.

“I need to catch up!” Olivia shouts as you pull away, and starts to gulp down her own drink. She’s finished quicker than you, ever the show-off, and waves the waitress over again to request another round for you and her. 

The waitress is back pronto, another endless summer dripping condensation on the table in front of you, a bloody mary perched in front of Olivia. 

You take a sip to wet your throat before you sit back.

You’ve never told the story of you two out loud like this before. Mary’s been present every step of the way, and you’d managed to stay away from your family’s prying by telling them only the basics of your friendship. This is the first time you have to listen to yourself explain all of the time you’ve spent together, and it shocks you as you hear yourself. Like when you explain the story of Van catching strep throat, and Mia is confused as to why he decided to spend over a week crashing at your place. You recite Van’s excuse at the time about the lack of food at his house, but nobody at the booth seems convinced. 

You trail off when you’re finished, deciding not to share anymore details with anyone. Mary had snorted more than once during your chronicles due to your decision to keep everything very surface and PG- although you’re sure none of these girls cared about Catfish, Van’s trust is sacred to you. You’re fiercely protective over the private moments you two have had together; even Mary doesn’t know about the way you’d tied him up during his birthday sex. 

There’s a silence that falls over everyone when you’re finished, punctuating the story of your summer with a long, burning sip of your drink. You’re expecting Olivia to launch into her own story- no doubt somehow more interesting than yours- but you’re surprised to see her stirring her bloody mary, looking lost in thought. Was this Van thing really that crazy?

“So,” Danica is the first one to speak, “When are you supposed to see him again?”

Your shoulders slump at this. “He’s in town this weekend, but I don’t think we’re gonna see each other.”

Mary snaps to attention, her eyes locking with yours. “Why not?”

Everyone seems to be on the edge of their seat, waiting for more details with bated breath. 

You shrug, but Mary only narrows her eyes. “I think I’m gonna end things,” You keep your voice light, stirring the ice in your now-empty glass. 

“What? Why?” Nicole shrieks. “He sounds great!”

“He is great,” You affirm. You’d sworn to yourself a long time ago that no matter how this thing plays out, you’d always maintain that Van had been the best man you’d ever been with. “But he’s just really busy now. He was gone for almost all of September.”

“So you’re gonna give him up?” Nicole scoffs in disbelief. “You’re insane, Y/N.”

“I mean, there’s nothing to give up!” You defend yourself weakly, your voice going higher in pitch. “We’re not together!”

Mary opens her mouth to speak, no doubt to derail you from your plan. You understand why she’s eager to dissuade you from something so drastic, but she also had no idea about the agony you’ve been in, how cutting ties with Van is the only way you know how to save your sanity. 

“Do you have a picture?” Olivia asks, successfully interrupting Mary. Despite your dislike for Olivia, you’re glad for her intervention.

“Um, lemme see,” You murmur, grabbing your phone back out of your pocket. But you forgot you’d been keeping your phone in there on purpose, and as you go to scroll through your photo gallery you’re accosted with Van’s reply to your previous message:

Everything alright?

You swipe it away, reaching your drink before realizing it’s empty. “Ugh, I need another one of these.” How many drinks have you had now? Three? You wish you remembered.

You deliberate over what photo to show them; you hardly take any when you two are together, and most of the ones you’ve taken seem too intimate to share with others. You laugh when you scroll past a photo of Van you’d taken in August, standing by the front door with his ribboned ficus in his arms. He’s got an exaggerated grin, no attempt to look poised for the camera. There’s tons of photos with his blurry hands or feet in them, attempts to obscure snapchats you were trying to take for Mary, and you hurry past the few nudes he’d sent you when you two had decided to exchange a few over text. You settle on one you feel comfortable sharing; it’s a photo of him at some bar, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol. He’s flushed and beaming, leaning against Bob, who was the one taking the picture of the two of them. He’d forwarded it to you the next morning, complaining about his hangover. You present this photo to the others.

Immediately Olivia takes your phone from your hands, sending a shot of anxiety through you. You’ll never understand why some people insist on taking the phone out of your hands rather than just looking at the image on the screen. 

“He’s good looking!” She exclaims, almost like she didn’t expect it. Danica and Nicole nod their agreement. When Olivia hands the phone back you flash the photo at Mia, who seems more interested in Bob’s half of the picture.

“Isn’t he?” Mary agrees, playfully elbowing you. “If you’re finished with him then send him my way,” She jokes, but you can hear her ill-concealed frustration with you underneath. You know she’s dying to know what the fuck you’re doing, messing up the best not-relationship you’ve ever had. Maybe she’ll get lunch with you tomorrow, so you can properly explain. Of course you hadn’t shared your true feelings for Van with everyone, but it was probably time for Mary to know. 

“He sounds like a keeper,” Olivia agrees, and you’re surprised to hear she thinks so. You’re even more surprised at everyone’s enthusiastic nods.

“You’d be an idiot to let him go,” Danica tells you seriously, and Nicole murmurs her assent. “Like, seriously. Have you lost interest in him?”

Lost interest in him? You wish it could be true, but that wasn’t even a possibility you could fathom at the moment.

“Uh, no,” You answer her, trying to seem nonchalant. “It’s just the logistics.”

“Well, make it work,” Nicole urges you. 

There’s some murmurs about ‘the one that got away’ from the other girls, and the conversation about Van finally dies out. You’re relieved when Mia brings up a project she’s working on in the office, looking for some advice from everyone about how to respond to a client who tends to have an aggressive tone in his emails. From there things fade into hilarious client stories and email blunders, and you try to seem as engaged as possible, relieved to have the focus off of you.

You lose track of your drinks, absentmindedly sipping them while everyone’s voices flow and mingle around you. You’ve definitely hit your introvert limit, ready to head home and curl up in bed. Nobody seems to notice how quiet you’ve grown, or how you perk up in relief when Mia finally suggests you guys call it a night. Everyone takes her cue, the table lighting up with phone screens as everyone reaches out to their ride. 

“Theo can take you home,” Mary offers when you pull up the Uber app.

“Oh, it’s fine,” You politely decline. There’s a lot of Ubers doing rounds on a busy street like Melrose during this time, and you know a car will be here soon. More than anything you were craving the quiet, some time away from this loud club music and conversation.

“If you’re sure…” Mary trails off. You remember your idea about lunch suddenly, ready to blurt it out to her, but the sober fraction of your brain shushes you. It would be incredibly rude to make lunch plans with someone right in front of everyone else.

Lunch tomorrow? You text her instead, and watch the notification ping on her phone screen.

YES. she sends back. YOU HAVE EXPLAINING TO DO. 

That would cause sober-you to dread these plans, but thankfully drunk-you is only preoccupied with going home. 

\\

You’re drunker than you’d thought by the end of the night. You’d managed to down all of your drinks without the need to use the restroom (miraculously), but when you had stood up to let Mary shuffle out of the booth it suddenly felt like your bladder was nothing but a bouncing water balloon, and all of the alcohol had rushed to your head. You had struggled to keep yourself walking in a straight line to the bathroom, not to mention staying balanced on your heels while you washed your hands. You get the notification your ride is here as soon as you’re pushing through the heavy swinging door, so you grab your bag back at the booth and exchange goodbyes and promises to do this again with Nicole, who is the last one waiting for a ride, and head out front.

There’s no silence quite as satisfying as the one that follows a night out after you’ve hopped into the car and closed the door. Besides the polite hello the driver offers he doesn’t seem interested in conversation, so you stare out the window at the night sky and try to make sense of the mess in your head.

Only as the car is pulling out onto Melrose do you remember you’d left a text from Van on read. You grab your phone off of the seat next to you, clicking your texts with Van open.

Everything alright? You read to yourself over and over. How the fuck were you supposed to answer that? Was he really that clueless? Were you that amazing at hiding how much this had been hurting you, or had he just not bothered to pay attention?

I’m fine, you decide to reply. Was it the truth? Not exactly. But you knew you would be, eventually. Ending things would hurt like hell at first, but you’d recover. You had from every other heartbreak you’ve experienced in your life, after all. 

You’re surprised when your phone vibrates in your palm, an instant reply from Van: Don’t seem fine. 

Shit. Maybe he’s been paying a bit more attention than you thought. You double down on your lie: It’s fine Van. 

The three dots pop up before you can even lock your phone: ??

You click your screen off, tossing your phone beside you on the bench. It bounces with a soft thud, and you rest your head in your hands, trying to take a deep breath.

Everyone’s advice starts to echo in your mind: He sounds like a keeper! You’d be an idiot to let him go! Make it work! Offered up so happily as if those were actually options, as if there was any fucking possibility Van felt the same way about you. 

It completely overwhelms you then, how in over your head you are. There had been moments where you’d felt a speck of hope, signs that maybe he wanted more than this casual thing, but now it’s been six months of spending time together, and exactly zero attempts by him to broach the subject. It all hits you then, all the emotions you’ve been keeping controlled while you tried to enjoy your night out, and before you know it you’re in tears.

It’s only a few tears at first, but letting go feels so good you give in to it, the car silent except for your loud sniffles and the occasional shaky breath. The Uber driver, to his credit, doesn’t react as you silently bawl your eyes out in the backseat.

Your phone goes off again from where it’s facedown, light seeping out of the sides. You leave it there, for once not pathetically controlled by Van’s moment-to-moment whim. A little laugh bubbles out of you at that thought, and you think absentmindedly that you must sound absolutely crazy, but you’re too drunk to care, the alcohol carrying that thought away as you continue your catharsis.

Time slips by in jumps and starts, your tears slowing eventually, and by the time the car turns onto your block you’re excited to get inside, make yourself a hot mug of tea, and continue your cry in private. Your house is the only one on your side of the street with the light on, and so you watch it slide into view as the car makes its way down the road.

“It’s that one,” You snuffle, “With the light on.”

As the car approaches, your blood goes cold.

Your first instinct is to assume it’s some sort of alcohol-induced hallucination. You wipe the tears from your eyes furiously, but when you look again there’s no mistaking it. The porch light is cascading down your front lawn, and Van’s silhouette is perched on your front steps, smoking a cigarette.

“Here you go, ma’am,” The driver stops the car and unlocks the door for you. As soon as the car pulls up Van tosses his cigarette onto the front path and stomps it out, standing up. You watch him through the car window in disbelief before you grab your things, give a numb thank you, and get out of the car.

There’s a stretch of silence as the Uber pulls away where you stand right outside of the front gate, unable to do anything except gape at Van. 

A car suddenly whizzes down your road, and you realize how close you are to being in the street. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You exclaim, the clatter of the gate clicking closed behind you echoing with your voice off of the silent houses around you.

“I came here to get some answers!” Van says, exasperated. “You won’t tell me nothin’!”

“There’s nothing to say!” You gesture with your arms as you reach the steps, face to face with him. “There’s no answers to get!”

“You’ve been cryin’!” Van gestures towards you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” You wipe at your undereye self consciously and look down at your finger. There’s a smear of mascara. You sigh before moving past Van up the stairs, headed for the front door. He follows.

“Did I do something?” He asks, coming into your peripheral vision. “If I did, just tell me! Let me make this right.”

You look through your purse for your keys, ignoring him.

“Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t do anything on purpose!”

You continue your search for your keys, keeping your head down.

“Fuck,” You say quietly to yourself as you sweep your bag for the third time and fail. You click your phone on, switching on the flashlight and lighting up your bag.

Van groans in frustration, wiping a hand through his hair. “Y/N!”

“What?” You snap at him, looking up. You’ve finally found your key and you jam it into the door, clicking it unlocked.

“Why are you ignorin’ me?” He pleads.

“Van,” You start, trying to keep your voice steady. You look up at him then, and you feel like your breath’s been punched out of you. The light is illuminating him from behind, a halo of golden light that catches each strand of frizz and accentuates the sharp line of his chin. His hair’s grown out since the spring, the light snagging the curls that are upturned at the nape of his neck. You swallow thickly. His eyes are wide in confusion.

“I think we need to end things,” You say quietly, struggling to see through a fresh batch of tears.

His jaw hangs slightly ajar. “What?” He asks in disbelief.

Your eyes are welling up again, and you wipe at them, a mess of mascara on your hands. “We’re done,” You tell him, voice wobbling, as you swing the door open and head inside.

He doesn’t give you a chance to shut the door in his face, heading in right behind you. “You’re fucking joking! What have I done?”

You head straight for the bathroom, examining yourself in the mirror. You cringe inwardly at yourself and grab for your makeup wipes, trying to make yourself look a little less pathetic.

Van is standing in the front room. “I’m not leaving until we talk about this,” He says loudly so you can hear him from behind the bathroom door.

You don’t respond, wiping away your eyeliner vigorously.

“I said I’m sorry!”

You sigh to yourself.

“Look, I-”

“Listen, Van!” You cut him off from the other room. You swing the door open, marching out. “It’s like you said in the hotel that one time, remember? We’re supposed to be simple, easy. And that was working great. You stop by at your convenience, and I throw everything else out of the fucking window to spend time with you. And then you just fucking… disappear! For two months! And it- I-” You struggle to find any words, your voice fading out as you feel yourself start to cry again. And I love you. I miss you. 

Van throws his arms up. “I didn’t mean it like that at all, c’mon! It’s not at my convenience! I was working! I wasn’t trying to ignore ya! I try my hardest to come around!” 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. When he speaks again, he’s quieter. “It wasn’t like that, honest.”

“I just can’t do this anymore,” You try desperately to explain. “This whole ‘simple’ thing is killing me. The long trips out to see you, and I’m lucky if I get to see you for two whole days…” Your words are interrupted by an embarrassingly pathetic sob, Van’s eyes widening at your outpouring of emotion.

“Please don’t tell me you think this whole thing was about having you around just for a fuck,” Van pleads. “You’re my best mate! I can’t help that I travel a lot!”

You bury your face in your hands.

Van sighs, moving towards you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” He says earnestly. “C’mon. I’m sorry. Get out of that dress and we can turn a film on, yeah? Or we can go grab some food. Whatever you wanna do.” 

You groan into your palms, the sound echoing in your ears. He just wasn’t getting it.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Van offers, his voice soft. “I didn’t… I’m sorry if it seemed like I was using you, or something.”

“But then we’ll go out to eat, and everything’ll be fine tonight, but it’s still gonna be the same! And you’re gonna be so busy with tour, and it’s not fair to me when you’re not around, and I can’t spend my whole life roadtripping with you!”

“The bulk of this leg is over!” Van argues, “And I don’t mind if you’re busy. It’ll be your turn to text me like I’ve been texting you, yeah?” The corner of his lips quirk up in a tired smile.

“Oh my God, Van,” You groan again. You take a long, frustrated inhale. It was now or never, you realize, because he might be the best man you’ve ever been with, but he’s still completely clueless. 

“I’m trying to tell you I fucking love you!” You yell, throwing your arms up. “I fucking love you! I don’t want simple and easy! I want you!”

You feel like you’re about to faint from the admission. For a terrifying moment all of the blood rushes to your head, and the only sound you can hear is your own heartbeat in your ears. You’ve put all your cards on the table, and there was no going back. Van might’ve been eager to fix things moments ago, but he could very well change his entire attitude now that the truth is out.

While you stand there, terrified, you notice his tired smile start to stretch into a grin.

“What?” He asks, grinning ear to ear.

“I love you,” You repeat, no longer yelling. Your throat hurts. It feels like the dust settling after an explosion, but your heart is skipping because Van isn’t running, not yet.

“Are you saying that I’m not simple? Or easy?” Van jokes, still beaming.

“No.” You feel a small laugh of relief bubble up. “I know it’s hard. With the traveling, and the label deadlines and stuff. But I’ve had the trial period. I wanna be able to text you and ask what you’re doing without seeming all clingy. And I don’t wanna go days without hearing from you!” Van groans at that. “And I want you to be able to tell everyone that I’m your girlfriend. Not your mate!” You say that part with a glare, remembering the conversation between him and Bondy you’d overhead by the ice machine in Detroit. 

“You heard that?” Van groans again, laughing. “I didn’t know what to say! He caught me by surprise!”

“And I want my family to be able to meet you!” You add on, “Not have to lie and pretend you’re busy with band stuff because you wouldn’t come in!”

Van’s jaw drops slightly at that. “I wanted to come in!” He confesses, “I thought you were asking as an afterthought! To be polite!” He runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t know how bad I wanted to say yes.”

He wraps his arms around you now, pulling you in close.

“I love you, too,” He admits. “And I have for a long fucking time! I’m sorry it didn’t seem like it. I thought you liked this whole ‘simple’ thing. I was playing it up for your sake!” He sways you back and forth while you bury your head in his chest, wrapping your arms around him. 

“I can’t believe you,” You shake your head against him in exasperation. You lift your head suddenly, your face inches from his. “When did you know?”

Van puffs his cheeks up with air, releasing it with a whoosh as you watch his eyes flit through the air while he considers. “On the couch on the tour bus,” He tells you. “I mean, I already did, but that was my moment of… yeah.” One side of his lips quirk up in a lopsided smile.

“Well, I win,” You tease. “Because I realized it backstage in Phoenix.”

Van’s eyes widen in shock. “You’re fucking joking!” He laughs, “And you’ve been keeping it a secret since?” 

“Yeah!” You exclaim, lifting your hands from where they’re resting on his sides to gesture at him. “You were making it pretty fucking clear you weren’t interested in dating!”

“Oh, yeah?” Van challenges, his playful grin reappearing. “More clear than you attempting to break things off with me?”

“Oh, stop,” You huff, pointing to your puffy eyes and splotchy face. “Clearly you can see it wasn’t an easy decision!”

“Fuck, I thought you had it out for me,” Van laughs, letting one of his hands fall from your back so that he can run it through his hair. “Whatever I did, I was ready to accept your wrath.”

“You don’t even know,” You start, burying your face in his shirt again. Your tears are back, overwhelmed with relief that the truth was finally out, that Van loved you the same way you loved him. “This has been tearing me apart for months now.”

“Me too,” Van sighs, his palm rubbing up and down your spine. “I even told you on accident that one time.”

You freeze, trying to understand what he meant. 

“Wait,” You lift your head, stepping back from him. “Are you talking about that phone call?”

“Yeah.”

At this your jaw drops. You’ve stepped out of Van’s arms, and he’s keeping his hands busy by rolling the sleeves of his button-up over his forearms. “You said you didn’t remember it!”

“I told you I loved you!” Van’s clearly embarrassed, his cheeks burning pink. “And I got all soppy about being apart on my birthday!”

“I said I loved you back!” You shout in complete disbelief. “We both admitted we loved each other and you didn’t think anything of it?”

“I was drunk! I thought you were taking pity on me! Give me a break!”

Oh God, he was impossible. You open your mouth to ridicule him further, but instead you step toward him again, cupping his jaw and bringing your lips together. There’s no sense in arguing about it anymore. Clearly you’d both been oblivious, but what did it matter now that everything had worked out?

Well, technically, you had no idea what the road ahead would bring for you two. But you’ve made it this far, right? Seven months of navigating these unspoken rules between you two, it feels like things can only get easier now that they’re dissolving right before your eyes. You kiss Van harder, and when your lips open for him it feels like all of the possibilities opening up before you: Van was your fucking boyfriend now.

In the thrill of your realization you reach for his belt buckle, struggling to undo it while you’re distracted by the kiss. 

After fussing with it for longer than normal you feel the warm press of Van’s lips being pulled away, his hands coming to wrap around yours.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” He remarks in amusement, brushing your hands aside and undoing his own belt. 

“Because I love you,” You confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” Van chuckles, giving you another quick kiss. “Whew, how much did you have? I feel like I took a shot just fucking kissing ya.”

“It doesn’t matter,” You tell him bluntly. “Help me out of this dress.”

Van knows you’re right because he obliges, tossing your jean jacket in the vicinity of the couch before helping you undo the zipper that runs down your back. Soon your dress has fallen around your ankles, tripping you up as you step out of the puddle of fabric on your heels.

Van’s hands reach out, steadying you. “Christ,” He laughs, guiding you to the couch. “Need help getting those heels off?”

“Please,” You sigh, flopping down on the couch in your bra and underwear, extending your legs out towards Van, who gets down on his knees to be of assistance. His fingers easily undo the straps around your ankles, releasing your feet from the hazard of your heels in no time. 

His fingers tuck into the waistband of your underwear next, tugging them down your thighs and depositing them on the ground before his head’s between your legs.

You sigh happily, slumping against the cushions as you pet his hair. You can’t remember the last time you were as content as you were right now; having drunk sex with your boyfriend, the person you loved and trusted most in the world. 

Your entire body feels like a warm puddle of endless summers and pleasure, but suddenly a thought pierces through the fog in your brain, and you shoot upright in your seat so fast that Van pulls away in concern.

“I have to text Mary!” You remember. Your eyes search around wildly for your bag, and you can feel the air passing between your legs without Van’s mouth keeping you warm.

Van wipes his chin, making to stand up. “Well, text her,” He says, gesturing towards the bedroom door. “Then come meet me in bed.”

You stumble up from the couch, crossing the living room naked and heading into the bathroom, where you’d left your purse.

Hello???? Mary’s sent. Did you get home safe????? Are you okay?!?

Home safe, You send back. Sorry, Van showed up unexpectedly and we talked. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

As soon as you’ve sent it you see the typing indicator pop up. You decide to respond to one last message before catching up to Van so you two can resume your first official romp as a couple.

If you tell me you two are done I’m gonna kill you.

At her words, you grin. 

Haha nope. We both realized we’re in love with each other and we’re official now. It’s a long story. 

\\

[getalittleclosey]

under 100k larry fic recs

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 10k

under 25k

under 50k

100k+

☆ somethin’ bout you by missandrogyny 60k

Of all the government agents in the world, Louis had to go and land the most charming one.

☆ tug-of-war by cherrystreet 63k

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't.

☆ cameras flashing by juliusschmidt 82k

With his breakout single platinum three times over and his second album still selling out in stores around the world, Louis Tomlinson has made it to the top. However, his position as Pop Heartthrob of the Decade is threatened by the edgier, more artistic Zayn, who happens to be releasing an album a week after Louis’ upcoming third. Louis needs something groundbreaking- scandalous, even- to push past him in the charts. Much to Louis’ dismay, his PR team calls in The Sexpert.

Consulting with PR firm Shady, Lane and Associates pays the bills so that Harry Styles can spend his down time doing what he really loves: poring over data. On weekends and late into the evenings, he researches gender, presentation, and sexual orientation, analysing the longitudinal study that is his father’s life’s work. That is, until his newest client, the popstar with the fascinating secret, drags him off his couch and frighteningly close to the spotlight.

As the album’s release date approaches, will Tomlinson and Styles be able to pull off the most risky PR scheme of the millennium and beat Zayn in sales or will the heat of their feelings for each other compromise everything?

☆ home to you by crowsonthewire 54k

“If someone wrote that for me I’d probably be a crying mess before it was even over. I’m crying a little right now actually.”

It’s about you, Harry’s brain screamed. I wrote it about you.

Gemma appeared in the doorway then and dragged Louis away. With one winking smile he was gone. Harry curled up and stuffed his face into his duvet so he could cry with no one hearing.

**** At fifteen, Harry wrote his first song for an oblivious seventeen year old Louis Tomlinson. Ten years later he’s a singer/songwriter who cant find any words for his second album and Louis is a closeted actor tired of LA.

They both try to run from the things weighing them down and in the process, they find each other.

☆ fate don’t know you by sincewewereeighteen 99k

“Just. How bad is it?”

Zayn sighs. Shit.

“Not that bad, really,” he says quickly as he scans Louis’ face. “It depends, really. The freshmen are all right and I think you’ll manage just fine with the sophomores.”

“But?”

“Seniors are always shit because they think they rule the school, and this specific class of juniors… Well, let’s say you’ll find a real troublemaker there. Some say he used to be a soft kid, but- I don’t know. Most teachers just leave him alone.” Zayn shrugs. “He walks around with a tough crowd. Guess no one wants to take their chances with him. This is Chicago after all.”

“D’you know the name of the kid?” Louis asks, already very curious to meet said person.

“His name is Harry Styles.” The other man responds. “You’re in for a treat with this one.”

[Or: The one in which Louis always hears thunder when Harry speaks and sees lightning when he glances at him.]

note: this is student/teacher so if that makes you uncomfortable please skip! harry’s 17 but he is still a student so power unbalance and all that but from what i remember it was tastefully done. just like....don’t do that irl obv jfkdaj

☆ like an endless summer by objectlesson 87k

“You just wanna go fawn over Styles as soon as possible,” Zayn grumbles.

“I do not. Plus, he probably got ugly this year. Eighteen is an awkward time...I bet he’s got acne and one of those terrible fuckboy haircuts all the hipsters are getting these days, with the shaved sides? Just watch, the first year we’re gonna get any time together is gonna be the first year I don’t have a stupid crush on him.”

---

Or, Louis is a riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor who he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two summers. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’s formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

note: there’s a second part to this that’s 6k of pwp

☆ back to how it was by lululawrence 53k

Harry carefully stood up and was on his way to the window to look outside when he ran his hand through his hair, and it stopped entirely too soon.

He froze then began fervently patting all over his head. Where was his hair? He’d been growing it out for a couple of years now and it was finally almost to the length he’d had as a goal the entire time. How could it have gotten cut off overnight?

Harry rushed over to the mirror hung on the wall adjacent to the window.

Oh shit. What the hell was happening? Harry leaned closer and saw that not only was his hair cropped shorter than he’d ever wanted to go again, but it looked like he had the beginning of crow’s feet by his eyes. Those definitely weren’t there yesterday! And what happened to his tattoos? He still had some of them, like the star and the letters he’d gotten for his mum and Gemma, but most of the rest were missing and there were a few he’d never seen before instead.

What. The. Fuck.

Or the one where Harry goes to bed angry with his bandmates and wakes up in a universe where One Direction was never formed and he has to find a way back home. Home definitely has nothing to do with his best friend and bandmate, Louis. That would be ridiculous.

note: there’s a second part to this that’s 24k!

☆ when we were younger by dinosaursmate 76k

About a week after Harry started visiting this particular chat room, he was watching some kid argue with the whole room about football, personally disinterested as he tipped a bag of crisps into his mouth. He happily chomped on the crumbs, taking a swig from a glass of Ribena to wash them down, glancing at the screen and very nearly spat the squash back out again. His heart was pounding wildly. The display icon of the argumentative newcomer had caught his eye, and not in a good way. He gulped as he clicked the picture, and when it popped up in full resolution, his heart nearly fell right out of his arse. - Sixteen year old Harry Styles’ world turns upside down when he logs on to gay teen chat to discover somebody has stolen his photos and used them as their own.

note: there’s a second part that’s 3k ziam centric

extra note: you don’t want to know how many episodes of catfish i’ve seen

☆ like cabbages and kings by you_explode 61k

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

☆ knives don’t have your back by turnyourankle 51k

The lone survivor of an on campus massacre that claimed the lives of his four housemates, Harry is urged to take a sabbatical or transfer. Instead, he chooses to stay in school, move into the dorms, and overcome his fears.

He finds comfort in a budding friendship with Louis, an upperclassman who lives on his floor, not realizing that their relationship will bring him closer to his traumatizing past rather than further from it.

☆ loving you is free by littlelouishiccups 68k

Louis is a workaholic record label CEO who hasn't been on a date in nearly a year. Niall and Liam make an account for him on a sugar dating website as a joke. And then Louis meets Harry.

note: there are two other parts to this that are pretty much pwp. they’re 24k and 4k

☆  dance to the distortion by lis (domesticharry) 93k

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

☆ waiting on you by emma1234 77k

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

note: there’s a second part to this that’s 5k

☆ this wicked game by cherrystreet 70k

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

note: i’ve seen maybe five episodes of the bachelor in my life and hated it but i have read every larry bachelor fic 

☆ coax the cold by mediawhore 86k

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

☆ this feeling by orphan_account 59k

"Gonna play it back for you now." Louis clicked play and the song flooded through Harry’s headphones.

The sound of each others voices united into one, and the rhythm of the music carried their voices effortlessly. Harry’s insides tingled and a wave of shivers rolled down his spine.

Before the clip cut off, Harry turned to raise an eyebrow at Louis, and failed miserably at disguising his smile. Louis stared back at him in shock.

Or A Larry Duet AU

☆ love’s on the line, is that your final answer? by pearlydewdrops 53k

Harry can’t believe it when Louis, the boy he’s always had a tempestuous rivalry with, asks him to be his boyfriend. Well, pose as his boyfriend, that is—for a new television game show in which young couples are quizzed on how well they know each other for a jackpot of thirty grand.

Reluctantly, Harry agrees—because he's got student loans to pay off, hasn't he? What's the harm? And he can totally deal with keeping his secret thing for Louis under wraps too. This is all just to win some money. It's fine. No big deal. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, everything. Obviously.

☆ say your prayers by nothing_but 59k

Louis was left wondering what the fuck this encounter had been. Coming to this camp - especially after learning that it was a religious one - he had never expected to find himself in a bathroom with the attractive, strictly Catholic, not-gay-or-anything head counsellor making flirty remarks. Quite the opposite, to be honest.

Or the one where Harry, head counsellor at a Catholic summer camp, dedicates his time to what he loves most, year after year. It’s mostly the same every summer; the place, the topics, the games. This year, however, there’s a new assistant counsellor stumbling into his camp, and possibly his heart.

☆ i’ll crash until you notice me by stylinsoncity 61k

Louis sets off to Barbados to oversee the massive resort his family owns known as Sandy Hill. For years, he's been looking for a change in the monotony of his life, seeking adventure and perhaps love too. What he doesn't expect is the bright eyed boy who spills a milkshake on his shoes.

Cue the summer loving.

note: zendaya is listed as a character in this which desperately makes me want to reread it because i don’t remember that!!!

☆ nothing but you on my mind by nonsensedarling 84k

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

☆ ghost note symphony by whoknows 96k

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

☆ thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in by nonsense_darling 52k

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.   

☆ here in the afterglow by fondleeds 89k

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

-

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

note: i can’t believe i waited until 2020 to read this...it was life changing tbh and i cried

☆ just call me inspiration by hereforlou 52k

The truth is Louis knows he’s going to hell, if there is such a thing, but it isn’t because he writes erotic fiction for a living. If anything, it’s because his muse, the reason he’s inspired to write about people shagging in increasingly creative ways everyday, is the sweetest, loveliest, most genuine (and completely oblivious) future children-book illustrator in the world.

(Or, the one where Louis is a writer, Harry is an art student, and they inspire each other in very different ways.)

☆ truly, madly, deeply (10 things i hate about you) by sunsetmog 54k

The first Louis had heard of Harry auditioning for X Factor was the night he'd turned up on Louis' doorstep the day before leaving for Boot Camp, with a DVD and an illicit bottle of vodka.

Thing was, Louis hated secrets, and he really hated being made a fool of, and he really, really hated Harry Styles.

or: the one in which they're all in sixth form together, and Harry auditions for X Factor without them.

note: this has always been a fav

☆ the impossible now by stylinsoncity 65k

A wish on Christmas Eve sends Louis to an alternate dimension where Harry is a member of One Direction.

☆ swallow the knife by whoknows 76k

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

note: i don’t even normally like non-aus but i have read this fic five times in the last nine months so. there’s that. 

extra note: there’s an 11k alternate sex scene here

☆ perfect storm by cherrystreet 80k

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

☆ anyplace, anyhow, anytime by aimmyarrowshigh, colazitron 81k

Harry's going to audition for The X-Factor in a few days, he really can't use this persistent tickle in his throat. What's even worse is when the tickle turns into a full blown cough, and the cough makes him pass out only for Harry to wake up in a different world. And then another one, and another one, and another one. The only other person who seems to be as affected as he is, is a boy with blue eyes who keeps showing up in every single one of these worlds.

note: i reread all of aimmyarrowhigh’s larry fics this year including the 500k or whatever sheylinson verse and i thought about putting them all in here but like...felt excessive & i figured i’d give attention to a less well known one, plus this way we get colazitron too! 

☆ the second hand unwinds by kingsofeverything (fullonlarry) 52k

Louis Tomlinson is one of the first members of NASA's top secret Chrono Exploration Program. When things go wrong and he's sent further back in time than planned, he has no other option than to show up on his ex-boyfriend's doorstep.

☆ waiting for the tides to meet by nauticalleeds (metamorphosis) 60k

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

☆ keep my candle bright by whisperdlullaby 79k

louis returns to his hometown after four years to find that the reverend’s son has done some growing up of his own.

☆ strawberries & cigarettes by dimpled_halo 77k

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

*

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

[saltyslack-toast]

#Knock The Book 2: The Devil All the Time

WELL, I MADE IT TO THE 2nd BOOK REVIEW OF MINE, MEANS THAT I’M A PASSIONATE AND PERSISTENT BITCH, PERIODT. No actually I’m just bored and got really nothing to do, so here I am making judgmental, invalid and uncritical book review just to ease my guilt for doing nothing at home (just so my mom see me working through my laptop).

Okay The Devil All the Time is actually my first English book. The story of how I got this book as a matter of fact is quite irritating and funny at the same time. My uni friend, she saw this book in a modest book bazaar near her hometown. She was reading the title and the word ‘devil’ just remind her of me, she bought it and just gave it straight to me…... I’m sad but like thankful???

It’s a secondhand and hardcover book but I don’t really mind, considering the fact that the quality is still very nice though, except the worn spots stained all over the cover that make the book looks very old. My friend bought this only for RP 25.000, yes dude you’re not misread this shit, it was THAT CHEAP (whoever sell and own this book before me, I really appreciate it). Although if you want to buy the new one, you can get this book for USD 26.95 which converted in rupiah would be RP 407.500, yeah its cost pretty fancy for broke students like us and I don’t know if the book’s supposed to be available in your local bookstore but I think you can find it in worldwide shipping online store like amazon or any other shop perhaps. The book’s cover illustrate a dying white mutt hanging on the ‘log’ and bunch of cross everywhere, the cover is actually make sense when you read the book. It published in 2011 by doubleday in United States of America. The Author is Donald Ray Pollock, and you can find the sum information about his background written on the cover, but based form the book’s cover you can also check his website in donaldraypollock.com but when I checked, I’m not sure if it’s really his website since it just like pest control website (LMAOO I HAD NO IDEA FR). Anyway,

Let’s go breaking down the book!

“… Too much religion could be as bad as too little, maybe even worse, but moderation was just not in her husband’s nature”

The whole story in this book, basically give you portraits regarding the life of lunatics in the time after WWII. Nope, there is no sums up about the events happened in that moment so chill y’all non-historical enthusiast bitches. This book gonna give you a bizarre experience reading it, the first 10 pages of this book was already psychedelic, I assure that shit. Have you watched Games of Thrones series on HBO? It’s chilling right how Ned Stark, the protagonist of the main series died in the first season???? EXACTLY that was the vibes u got after reading the first chapter and get crazier every time u read forward. By the way, this book embodied 7 chapters and 55 sub-chapters, the chapter in odd and even numbers has 2 different main focuses on each characteristic exist, here I sum it up for you:

On the odd numbers chapters (1, 3, and so on), the central story of these chapters is circling among the family of Willard Russel, his Mom Emma and Uncle Earskell and also those 2 insane peeps Roy Laferty and Theodore. Willard Russel used to be a navy army and a bit skeptical dealing with religion issues just like his uncle, but his mom has always been a devoted worshiper. Willard married to the beautiful and kind-hearted women named Charlotte and they was given a son named Arvin Eugene Russel, everything was normal until Charlotte got sick and Willard gone crazy praying to god for his wife’s recovery and poor little Arvin has to suffer the predicament by his own self. Their stories always give me religious-fanaticism-gloomy vibes (is that even make sense??). Don’t even get me started with the life stories of the two brutes-ass man, Roy Laferty and Theodore they were used to be ‘preacher’ in Emma and young Willard’s Church. Nothing I could say further because it’s gonna be a major spoiler for you, but their stories really giving you insights of how frustration and fanaticism allow people to do something beyond their common sense.

“You remember what I told you the other day?” He asked Arvin

“About the boys on the bus?,”

“Well, that’s what I meant, you just got to pick the right time”

On the even numbers chapters (2, 4, and so on), the main tales is pertaining on the journey of Handerson couple, Carl and Sandy. They were like the Bonnie and Clyde but sad and exploitative version in this book. Carl is a ‘photographer’ and sandy working as a waitress in a café called Wooden Spoon (Which the place where Charlotte used to work as a waitress and the place she met Willard for the first time as well). During summertime they got this ‘ritual’ ((but not in a religious way)) where they drive to different states and give a ride to the hitchhikers found on the way, then Carl forcefully offer them to fuck Sandy for free (HIS OWN WIFE) while he took pictures of them fucking and after that Carl kill them and take all the money those hitchhikers got in their pocket (dude I can’t even judge anything). But to be honest, I’m not a fan of these two characters because they were all so ANNOYING to death. And then there is Bodecker Lee who’s a police and also Sandy’s brother, ok that’s it, I’m not gonna give you any spoilers.

“… He went down the street and sat on a bench in a park the rest of the day thinking about killing himself instead. Something broke in him that day. For the first time he could see that his whole life added up to absolutely nothing…”

You might be confused since there are quite a lot of keen characters in this book but there’s a point where all these bitches are relating to each other, so chill y’all impatient gripe-ass. Overall, the flow of the story is undoubtedly interesting for you to keep going throughout the whole story, because every phase gonna make you wondering about next things happened to them. But, the transitions among every chapters is quite uncomfortable for me, because sometimes when the story has reached its climax there is no resolutions coming to solve the problem immediately, and you’re faced to read the new chapter with a whole different setting and characters so it’s kind of ruining the vibes and emotions the book has made me, but again this just my personal preference so please don’t judge (while everything I did right now is judging inaccurately).

“He realized that he would never preach again, but that was all right. He’d never been much good at it anyway. Most people just wanted to hear the cripple play”

However, what I like the most from this book is the deepening of every character exists is so fascinating, even for just the side or supporting character (for god sake I’m sorry idk what to called a character that isn’t the main one), for example a bus driver in Meade, Ohio which Willard talked to when he was on the way home after the war ended, the narration wrapped and portraits the driver’s life perfectly without make us bored, and there’s still a bunch of interesting narration about the life of the side characters in this book that also as odds and intriguing as the main character’s background (jesus, everything happened and everyone in this book is just so strange and peculiar I swear to god). The story finished in a most tragic-beautiful but still gloomy way, even though it’s quite predictable but still a very good closing for me personally. To be noted, on the way to the end of the story, there will be emerge another asshole priest character named Preston Teagardin, ready to shake you up until you finish the book. But still, let’s said this particular ‘last minute character’ has proving that the author is paying so much attention of how the story ended isn’t leaving any 'rush-made' impression (this shit might confused you I’m sorry my English hasn’t got any better *sorry hand sign* *sorry hand sign* *sorry hand sign*). # hashtag attention to the detail bro.

Holy crap, that’s the first time I’m almost able to cut all the bullshit I intend to bring it up here.

This book is one of my top 5 books that you have to read once in a life time (although I haven’t discover the other four, omg im sorry y’all). Little information for you that the first time I read this book (yeah I read it for quite few times) is when the campaign of presidential election era, which in Indonesia the religious are pretty sentimental issues, some of the people in my country suddenly became those annoying fanatical preachers, man I can’t stand it. And this book is just precisely relating to that condition and I get to know at least a glance of what the heck odds things happened in their minds, since you know fanaticism and stupidity doesn’t hit only on particular group of religions, race, gender or anything, we can all be stupid and brainless (especially me because I basically have no brain). There probably quite many scenes that is pretty disturbing to read (I don’t know if people could be triggered by it???? But I guess so) so yeah a bit warning. Overall, I genuinely recommend this book for you guys because every element in this book is almost perfect, the storylines, bold characters, and the RARE AND STRANGE AND SENSITIVE topic promote by the author in this novel is totally a BOOM. Don’t worry reading this book not going to give you those agnostic and atheist vibes HAHA chill I still consider myself a devoted Muslim tho (hashtag masyaallah ukthi).

By the way before I wrapped it up, I hear that this book will be made into a netflix film. WELL, of course I’m excited because the casts are so amazing, and I love Netflix adaptation and I enjoy watch movies as much as I read books (again, unnecessary information of mine *sorry hand sign*). I found that the release date is postponed from the origin plan in 15th May (which is three days ago from I posted this on my page) due to I don’t know perhaps corona because that bitch has ruined everyone in the world’s schedule, but for real I can’t find the exact information regarding to the updated release date, so while you wait the film to launch, why don’t you just go read the book first? I assure you this one not gonna give you any disappointment.

I think that would be it for this 2nd rubbish book review of mine. Although, I think I made a little progressive from the first one (OR MAYBE NOT???? I’M SORRY Y’ALL) but of course there’s still much deficiency I served. Still, I hope my writing get better in the process of making this whole novel of reviewing book inaccurately. To be honest, I wrote this shit not for getting any engagements or audience but for my own satisfied HAHA. So yeah I’m literally comfortable writing for nothing. But bitch guess what I’m just gonna keep going, until I could professionally writing and make it for a living? Well, amen for that.

Xiao, See you in Advance!

[uberrapidash]

vent post

I have done literally absolutely nothing for three of my classes in like, multiple months. The only reason I’ve been scraping by is because it’s music so ... like, no one is gonna know that I haven’t been practicing until it comes time to show what I’ve got. Except for one of the classes, I was supposed to have submitted recordings and stuff, but no one has reached out to me asking me why I haven’t done things. I’ll probably just receive a failing grade in the class.

But I feel so overwhelmed, I hardly even have energy to care. Like, I can’t walk 20 feet without my heart being like “oh shit!” and shooting up to a minimum of 160bpm. Minimum. I feel incredibly tired and weak and fatigued all the fucking time and I am so sick of it. 

I guess I’m having a really bad flare because of surgery. My life is changed for the better because of surgery and I feel guilty for being so negative but I’m really not trying to erase the positive. Things are just really, really negative.

Some of the things causing me anxiety are unknowns, like, how am I going to retain health insurance for next year when I wasn’t able to work this year? I couldn’t get on the marketplace insurance before because of being unemployed, and my disabilities aren’t officially recognized. I also need to apply for SSI.

And as far as I understand, I’ll have run out of student loans for next semester. But I don’t know for sure until I fill out the FAFSA and meet with an advisor. I’m told by people that there is probably something that can be done since I am so close to graduation and colleges/universities want their students to pass because it reflects on the institution. But I am not hopeful. I’m terrified. And I have been relying on student loans to pay my bills and just get by.

I have been suicidal for a really long time this time around. There were a couple times where I wasn’t feeling as bad, like when I learned my surgery was approved to be covered by insurance, and then during the first part of the recovery process because my back pain was gone. But now my back is hurting again, although it’s not like it was before -- it’s only when I wash dishes; I’m trying to remind myself that I sustained repeated injuries to my muscles and skeleton for years, and so of course I’m going to need some sort of physical therapy to help my body regain strength, so of course washing dishes is still going to be difficult until I’ve healed and then started working on the long-term injuries.

And I can’t be on my Adderall right now because of this flare, so shit all is getting done.

I feel stupid and like 99% non-functional. Fuck, today I haven’t even taken off my fucking bra and checked my incisions and massaged the scar tissue like I’m supposed to multiple times a day. I’m so bad right now that I can’t even take care of this huge fucking wound on my chest.

How am I supposed to find support for things like making sure that I’m eating and bathing? My car payment is over 2 weeks late and I have money to pay it, but paying it is just so hard. My fucking idiot of a fucking brain doesn’t know how to pay it. Last time, someone called me when it was like a week late and I asked them to walk me through to the website and logging in and stuff. This time, I just haven’t been answering my phone or checking my voicemails, because my anxiety and freeze/fawn is through the fucking roof. I should probably be in a hospital. 

And goddamn I need a fucking desk. I cannot deal without a desk anymore. I do my homework on the kitchen bar, the couch, or in bed. I need a desk. It’s a huge barrier to not have a desk where I can go to a place to do the non-preferred tasks like homework and checking email and paying bills. So not only do I have to make myself do the thing, I also have to go through the several steps it takes in order to even begin doing the thing. 

This is on top of the million other things going on in the world

The tension and hatred and fear in the air is tangible and I feel actually physically ill from it. 

I should be working on German stuff due tonight but I think instead I’m going to work on trying to set up my corkboard that I recently moved to the living room. A new “bullet journal” concept that I’m trying.

I really want to rearrange the living room but Aaron doesn’t want to. I feel like I need to. The living room is a trap. I go onto the couch, and then I’m stuck there. I need a more open floorplan/layout. I don’t think he understand how important it is to me. 

[atc74]

Huckleberry

Square(s) Filled: Western for @spngenrebingo, Love Confession for BTZ Bingo, Road Trip for @spnfluffbingo2019

Warnings: slight angst, Dean in a Stetson, tears, fluff

Summary: Y/N plans a trip and fakes a case to tell Dean how she really feels but it doesn’t exactly go the way she had planned. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2611

Written for: btzbingo, @spngenrebingo, @spnfluffbingo2019

Beta’d by: @alleiradayne, thank you love. 

A/N: This may have been a request or a suggestion at one time, or it could have been a conversation between me and @sis-tafics, I don’t really remember. Either way, I like how this turned out and I hope you do too!

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

“Hey Dean, I found us a case,” Y/N looked up as Dean walked into the kitchen, his dead man robe hanging open, revealing his boxers. He shuffled in his old man slippers across the cold concrete floor to the coffee pot.

“Great, I’ll let Sam know. Ready in thirty?” he asked, savoring the first sip of his coffee.

“It’s a milk run, thought maybe you and me could take this one on our own. Give Sam some alone time.” Y/N looked at Dean over the rim of her cup, waiting on his reply.

“Yeah, sounds good, Sweetheart,” he smiled and her heart flipped in her chest, lodging itself in her throat. She’d always been a sucker for his smile, but when they were alone like this and she knew it was just for her was a whole other story.

Thirty minutes later, she meet Dean in the garage as he was checking the weapons. She tossed her overstuffed bag in the back seat and joined him at Baby’s trunk.

“So we have pretty much everything we need for anything, except lamb’s blood. It’s not a djinn, is it?” He looked to her as he lowered the lid on the weapons cache.

“No. No djinn. Please no djinn ever again,” she shook her head clear of the memories of a hunt gone wrong a couple years ago. It was the turning moment in her life and her perspective of the elder Winchester. The djinn-induced dream revealed her deepest desire and while deep down she may have always known she was attracted to Dean, she never thought that a life with him could be possible. She pursed her lips together, blurting out her well practiced dialogue. “Ghost. Should be a simple salt and burn. Two, three days tops.”

They climbed in the car, doors shutting in unison. Dean turned the ignition and Baby rumbled to life, purring like a badass kitten. As he put her into drive, pulling out of the garage, Dean turned to Y/N. “Where to m’lady?”

Y/N was sure she blushed a couple different shades of pink. “You’re gonna love this, Dean... Tombstone, Arizona, good sir.”

“Tombstone? Are you shitting me right now? We have a case in Tombstone?” Dean was so excited, Baby lurched under the pressure of his booted foot when he turned his upper body to face Y/N.

“Easy cowboy!” she laughed. “It’s just a case.”

“It is not just a case. It’s a ghost in Tombstone! Ahhh! Maybe it’s Billy Claiborne! I bet it’s Billy Claiborne,” Dean smirked and turned his attention back to the road, flooring it to get to their destination. It was going to be a long drive.

And it was. With Dean so excited about a potential case in Tombstone, the mecca of all things Wild West, it was a struggle to keep him focused. The sooner they were checked into their room, the sooner her nerves would calm down. Or get worse. It was a crap shoot at this point.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her life. Sure, she hunted the worst of the worst. She’d been shot, stabbed, broken bones and has been stitched up more times than she can count. But telling her best friend she’s in love with him? It was a whole new ballgame.

Dean slowed as they entered the city limits, his eyes wide as he took in the sights of Tombstone, Arizona. After all the miles he had logged, after all the places he had been and things he had seen, it was somewhere Dean had only ever dreamed of visiting. He didn’t even care what the case was, he decided they were staying a few extra days so he could see and experience everything Tombstone had to offer. And with his favorite girl by his side.

“Hey, I called ahead and reserved us a room. I thought it was the least I could do, dragging you all the way here and all,” Y/N mentioned as he stopped at the crosswalk. “It’s just ahead, Wyatt’s Hotel and Coffee House. Two of your favorite things, Winchester. Wyatt Earp and coffee.” She giggled as she watched Dean, a wide smile breaking out across his handsome face.

“Don’t forget you and whiskey,” he winked and Y/N felt herself blush in the darkness of the Impala. “Let’s get checked in and start fresh in the morning, huh?”

After Dean parked, they got out of the car, bags slung over their shoulders and walked into the hotel. Y/N approached the desk, checking them in while Dean stood in the middle of the lobby, his mouth agape, taking in everything. The hotel was directly across the street from the O.K. Corral and there were faded photos all along the walls depicting the rich and outlawed history of the town. Y/N jingled a set of keys at Dean to get his attention and together they climbed the stairs to their room on the second floor of the hotel.

Dean took the keys from her and stared at the sign on the door announcing they were entering the Wyatt and Josephine Suite. “Seriously?!” His voice was higher than his usual baritone, accentuated by the excitement. “Wyatt and Josephine!” Dean unlocked the door and swung it wide. The room furnished with period pieces, right down to the steel frame bed and lace doilies. He didn’t even say a word about the single king size bed.

Y/N let him inspect every little piece of the room while she went to change in the surprisingly modern bathroom. She had done her research and while the website toted a ‘spacious modern bathroom’, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting. She tried to keep her mind focused on taking off her clothes and putting on her pajamas, which to be honest, was just a pair of loose boy shorts and a old band tee she had stolen from Dean. She could hear the voices in her head telling her she was wrong. She shouldn’t do this. She’d lose her best friend. But for once her heart was louder and stronger than the voices in her head. She smiled to herself and stepped out of the bathroom to find Dean already in bed, reading what appeared to be all of the brochures the hotel had provided.

“Did you know the O.K. Corral is literally across the street? Man we gotta go there! And the Birdcage Theatre. This is awesome!” Dean hadn’t stopped smiling since they left the Bunker. Y/N hoped he doesn’t stop for the entire trip.

“I knew you’d be excited about this!” she told him, climbing into the opposite of the bed. “There is a coffee shop downstairs and a continental breakfast is included. What’d’ya say we get some shut eye, then start our day with coffee and pastries, maybe some bacon?”

“Sounds awesome,” Dean repeated, placing the brochures on the bedside table and flipped off the small lamp.

Y/N woke the next morning to an empty bed and room, Dean having disappeared. Christ, there better not really be a case here! She thought to herself as she attended to her morning business. She stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped tight in a towel to find Dean sitting at the small table. Y/N wasn’t sure who was more surprised. Dean to find her in just a towel, or her seeing Dean in his best western get up, complete with light colored Stetson and boots.

Y/N took hold of herself mentally shaking the impure thoughts from her head. “Soooo, what’s with the gettup, cowboy? Or should I say Marshall?”

“Well, when in Rome…” Dean gestured to the room with a wink in her direction and she swore her knees were going to buckle if she looked at him one more second, or worse, she was going to rip the towel from her body and throw herself at him like a fool. She quickly grabbed her clothes and returned to the bathroom.

“Fuck!” she mumbled after she managed to close the door. She was going to have to fess up sooner rather than later, because in all her scheming, she forgot to pack her Fed suit. Throwing on a tank and her tightest jeans, she stepped back out in the room to see Dean holding out a hat similar to his own.

“I got you one, too, Sweetheart,” he dropped the hat on her head.

“That’s so sweet, Dean. Thank you,” she whispered, overcome with emotion at the small gesture.

“Of course, Sweetheart. I gotta take care of my best girl,” he smiled and placed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Speaking of which, your suit is hanging in the closet. I’ll go get us a table while you finish getting dressed.”

Y/N watched him swagger, yes swagger, out of the room. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest that she was surprised he didn’t hear it. She took her suit from the hanger, shocked that she forgot it, but Dean remembered. He was always looking out for her, even when neither of them realized it.

She twisted her hair up in a low bun at the nape of her neck and brushed some mascara on her lashes. She never was much for makeup, but figured a light coat couldn’t hurt. She checked herself once more before grabbing her key and making her way downstairs to meet Dean. She dreaded having to tell him the truth, but hoped he wouldn't be mad. So what if there wasn’t a case? They were in Tombstone, Dean’s Disneyland, and she was going to make the most of it for him.

Dean had secured not only a table, but he already had it loaded with hot coffee, just the way she liked it, a pile of bacon, along with a plate of fruit, and a toasted english muffin, complete with peanut butter. He was halfway through a chocolate covered bear claw when she sat down. “You spoil me, you know that right?”

“Someone has to. If it wasn’t for me and Sammy, you’d spend your days hungry and naked,” he chuckled, mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like “not that I’d mind” but she brushed it off as a hallucination due to minor starvation.

“You’re right. You cook for me and wash my clothes. I’m a lucky girl. I’d hate to think what I’d be without you,” she nibbled on the english muffin, licking the peanut butter from her thumb.

“You’ll never have to worry about that, Sweetheart,” he vowed, quickly changing the subject. “Now, tell me about this case.” He rubbed his hands together, ready to hear all the gory details.

“Yeah, about that. I hear there have been some sightings at the Birdcage Theatre,” she mumbled.

“Birdcage Theatre it is!” Dean finished his coffee while she ate the last bite. “Come on, you can finish your coffee on the way over. It’s just a couple blocks.”

By the time they reached their destination, she couldn’t keep it from him anymore. “Dean there isn’t a case!”

“What do you mean there isn’t a case?” Dean turned and looked at her, the look on his face a cross between annoyed and offended. “You dragged me all the way here for nothing? I can’t believe you faked a case!” He turned on the heels of his boots and walking away.

Tears streamed down her face. She hadn’t even made half the confessions she had planned and he was already pissed at her. Great. Way to go Y/N, she thought, kicking a stray rock down the street and she walked back to their hotel. Just as she reached the hotel, she spotted Dean leaning against the wooden fence at the O.K. Corral. He looked deep in thought so she let him be and walked up to their room. She shed out of her suit, carefully placing it back on the hanger and in the garment bag. Y/N dropped to the bed and curled up into a ball, letting the tears fall for everything she had just lost.

She groggily blinked her eyes open, the sun shining too brightly through the lace curtains. Dean was sitting in a chair too small for his large frame, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. She walked over to where he sat, kneeling in front of him.

“Dean I am so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have faked a case, but I just wanted some time with you. I thought this would be the perfect spot to get away. Forget all the shit we’ve been through this year. You’re always taking care of me and I just wanted to do something nice for you for once. I’m sorry,” she sniffed, the tears coming back.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to get away? If you had led with that, I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat!” Dean looked down at her, crying at his feet. “Why go to all the trouble?”

“Because of you, Dean. You do everything for me. You’re always looking out for me whether you realize it or not. You feed and clothe me. You and Sam took me in without question and gave me a home and a family,” she cried.

“Because that is what you do for someone you love, Y/N.”

“I’m so sor - wait. What did you say?” she blinked rapidly, thinking that it would somehow improve her hearing. She thought she heard Dean say he loved her.

“I have been such a chicken shit! Ever since that damn djinn hunt, I’ve been lying to myself, to you. I shoulda said something, but I was afraid I was going to lose you,” Dean confessed, sliding from the chair and dropping to his knees in front of her. “I love you. I think I have since you burst into our lives. I can’t imagine mine without you.”

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It seemed so surreal, she laughed. She laughed until there were tears in her eyes for good reasons. “Oh my God, Dean. I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Those are the sweetest words you could ever say to me.”

“Care to enlighten me, Sweetheart?” Dean didn’t look amused.

“Yeah, yeah. I, um, I planned this trip a couple months ago. I brought you here on the false pretense of a case because I felt I needed an excuse and I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you how I really felt. I love you, Dean. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me in my stupid life and just needed you to know,” she smiled up at him.

“I’m so glad you planned this. I love you, Y/N,” Dean whispered, leaning in. He pressed his lips to hers softly, testing the waters. Y/N reached up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulled him closer. She returned his kiss with vigor, pulling back from him only to catch her breath.

Dean leaned his forehead on hers. “For smart people, we’re pretty stupid. I coulda been kissing, and doing other things to you, this whole time.”

“No time like the present,” she grinned, kissing his lips once more.

“Can we still go to all the places and see all the things? There isn’t anyone I would rather experience Tombstone with than you,” Dean professed.

“I’m your Huckleberry,” she whispered. The trip may not have started the way she planned, but it certainly was turning out better than she could have dreamed of.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog @hunterscabin @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

BTZ Crew: @katymacsupernatural @pinknerdpanda @hannahindie @chelsea072498

[mdelpin]

Gratsu Bingo 2019 Prompt: Play AO3 | FF.Net

Natsu Smiles

Summary: Gray was relieved when Natsu confesses that he's begun writing fanfiction as a way to help him not miss Gray so much while he's away at college. But as months go by and Natsu's smile begins to dim, Gray fears he might not be able to save Natsu from himself.

Trigger Warning: In later chapters, there will be mentions of cutting, and there will be talk of suicide. This chapter, however, is pure fluff.

Chapter 1

“Hey Babe,” Gray spoke into his phone, excited to finally get to talk to Natsu for the first time since he’d left for college. It had been a long week, full of orientations and the beginning of his training schedule.

“Gray!”

Gray could almost touch the excitement in Natsu’s voice, and he immediately became homesick. He could picture the way Natsu’s eyes lit up when he smiled, and it made him ache to touch him. They’d never been apart this long since they’d started dating a few years earlier.

“The one and only, I finally got a break to myself, and I couldn’t wait to hear your voice,” Gray gushed sounding like a lovelorn idiot and not caring one bit, “What have you been up to while I was gone?”

There was a pause and then a nervous chuckle, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“No can do, but now I’m really curious, you been thinking about me?” Gray asked.

“Yeah, I miss you,” Natsu’s voice was sad, but he continued, “Do you remember Lucy?”

“Yeah sure, the blonde.”

“Mhm, well she suggested I try writing as a way to get my mind off you for a bit, so I did.”

“Writing, huh? That’s cool, what did you write about?”

“Remember that anime I was really into? I wrote a fanfiction about it, and I posted it online.”

“Fanfiction? I leave for a week, and you turn into a girl,” Gray teased, but he was secretly glad. He’d been worried that without him there to force Natsu to go out and socialize sometimes he’d just sit home and mope about him being gone. Writing sounded like a good thing.

“Shut up, guys can write fanfiction. A few people liked it, and they commented on it, it was kinda cool. They liked something I wrote, can you believe it?”

“Of course I can, you’ve always had an awesome imagination. Can I read it?”

“Sure, I posted it on fanfiction.net, my username is firedragon777. Anyway, tell me everything!”

So Gray did, he told him about Lyon, his roommate, who was also there on a hockey scholarship. He told him about the grueling practice schedule, and the terrible food, and what his room looked like but mostly he told him how much he missed him, and how he couldn’t wait to see him the first break he got. They hung up ten minutes later, feeling happy, but also frustrated at not being able to see each other.

Gray logged on to fanfiction.net and looked for Natsu’s story. He thought it was good, but what he loved the most was being able to hear Natsu’s voice in the words. He grinned and left a ridiculously sappy comment that would probably embarrass the hell out of Natsu when he read it and went to bed with thoughts of his lover floating through his tired brain.

xxx

School started almost before he was ready, and it was much harder than he’d expected. The added pressure of having to keep his GPA up while having to adhere to his team’s practice schedule kept him in constant stress. He wished Natsu were there with him, he always slept better with him in the bed.

They emailed back and forth, but their schedules didn’t mesh up for long phone conversations very often. Today had been a particularly grueling day for Gray, and he needed to hear Natsu’s voice, so he forced himself to take a break between practice and dinner and call him.

“Hey Babe, Is this a bad time?” Gray greeted as soon as the call was picked up.

“Hi, No, I was just looking up some stuff online,” Natsu said, sounding a bit distracted.

“Resorting to porn already?” Gray teased, knowing porn made Natsu uncomfortable.

“Gods no, that stuff is gross. I’ve been talking to a few other writers, and we’ve been thinking of starting a writing group on Tumblr, maybe Discord.”

“I have no idea what any of those are.”

“Me either, that’s why I’m looking into them. Discord sounds interesting. It’s like a chat thing for gamers, but it has video calling. Maybe you can get it too, and we can at least see each other from time to time.”

“That actually sounds like a great idea, I’d love to see you right about now. I’ll check it out once I get back to my room.”

“Rough day?”

“Yeah, any day without you is rough.”

“That was pretty smooth.”

Gray chuckled, “I have my moments. So the writing thing is still good?”

“Yeah, I’ve published a few other things.”

“Oh, man, I didn’t know. I’ll check them out later.”

“You can subscribe to me, then you’ll get emails whenever I post anything.”

“Okay. Damn, I have to go eat dinner before the dining hall closes for the night. I love you.”

“I love you too, bye!”

Gray hurried to eat, looking up Discord on his phone while he sat at the table. He decided to install it on his laptop when he got back to his room. He really wanted to see Natsu.

xxx

“Can you see me?” Natsu asked once he saw Gray’s image come up on the screen. He waved excitedly.

“Wow you weren’t kidding, he really does have pink hair.”

“Natsu, this is Lyon, my idiot roommate. Lyon, this is my boyfriend, Natsu. Now go away so I can enjoy seeing him for the first time in a month.”

With a wave Lyon left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Wow, his hair is really white,” Natsu couldn’t help but say.

“You know that’s ridiculous coming from you, right?” Gray rolled his eyes and just stared at his screen. “You’re looking good babe, wearing a bit more clothes than I was hoping for. I always picture you naked when we talk.”

Natsu laughed, “I bet you do, Zeref always leaves the fucking thermostat too cold, and he bitches if I move it.”

“He still working nights?

Natsu nodded, and Gray just wanted to reach out and touch him, what he wouldn’t give to be able to somehow go through the screen and just magically appear at Natsu’s house.

“You look tired, Princess,” Natsu noted, observing the dark rings around the other’s eyes.

“Yeah, they’ve been running us ragged. We have our first game soon. What about you? How’s school going?”

“It’s fine, nothing too hard yet. I’ve been working on the writing group. We have a blog, and I’m playing around, trying to learn how to create a website. We’ve been talking about organizing events too.”

“No offense babe, but that sounds like a lot of work. I thought you were in this for fun.”

“It is, and I am, but you know me, I like learning new things. It’s a little stressful though, there are a few people in there already, and they don’t all get along.”

“Natsu, don’t go in all crazy like you always do? If it gets to be too much just let go, okay?”

“It’ll be fine, you worry too much. Anyway, show me your room,” Natsu changed the subject, and Gray let him. He walked him around the room, showing him where he lived.

“I can’t wait for you to come here next year, we can get a little apartment off-campus, it’ll be awesome! I’ve already started asking which are the best buildings.”

“That does sound nice, I miss you sneaking in here to sleep while Zeref is at work.”

“We didn’t always sleep,” Gray reminded him with a wolfish grin.

“No, we didn’t,” Natsu smiled and held his hand up to the screen, and even though it was girly and he felt dumb, Gray did it back.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

To be continued...

A/N: I'm gonna be honest with you, I had no plans to write any more new stories for the Bingo but something happened last night and I just had to get some stuff out. So this was born late last night while not being able to sleep and stressed out beyond measure as to whether a friend would wake up again or not.

This story has nothing to do with anything ftlgbtales related (or any of my other blogs). This is more drawing on my limited experience in fandom and how it can tear you apart if you let it.

It will be in Gray's POV, mostly because I'm trying to understand how my husband might have felt when I first joined the Fairy Tail fandom. Think of it as my penance for doing that to him. The man is a saint.

I have not decided on the ending yet and I have no idea how many chapters it will be. I had originally meant to do a one-shot but this is where I left it 4AM and when I was rereading this morning I could not bear to spoil it with anything bad. Can't vouch the other chapters will be as fluffy.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

In Front of the Camera: Part 12

Fandom: Marvel (Cam Guy AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Your friend and neighbor, Bucky, is a cam guy, but you have no idea until your friend sends you a link to one of his live streams.

Part 11 |  Series Masterlist

Bucky sat there staring at the Cam4You website. If he went through with this, then he’d no longer be receiving that large amount of cash flow in a while. He’d have to go out and get a real job instead of working from home. But if that meant there was a possibility that he’d be coming home to you waiting for him, then so be. 

“One last time,” he mumbled as he clicked on the ‘Go Live!’ button. The camera light went on and he sighed. He waited for a good amount of people to log onto the livestream. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and spoke, “So...I’m leaving. I’m quitting this site.”

Nooo!

What?! Why?! 

James, nooo! Please don’t leave us! 

Bucky sadly chuckled, “Yeah, uh, this is a shock to you guys, I know, but it has to be done. I-” he wiped away his watery eyes, “I fucked up, guys. I was dating my baby doll for months and it was perfect. She was perfect. And I fucked up. I got tangled in some twisted game with some other woman. I went above and beyond what my job entailed and it resulted in losing the woman who-who captured my heart. She broke up with me and she won’t answer my calls or my texts, nothing. 

“Sure, if it wasn’t for this site, we wouldn’t have gotten together in the first place, but now...this whole thing tore us apart...I tore us apart. But I wanna fix this. I wanna get my girl back ‘cause-’cause I love her. She’s made me the happiest I’ve ever been and because I was thinking with my dick instead of my head, I lost her. I need to make this right. I’m leaving and I’m finding a better job, one that doesn’t get me involved in all this.” he gestured to the screen.

“So this is it everyone. I want to thank all of you for the amazing couple of years I spent on here. It was a blast. Now I gotta say “good-bye” to the virtual world and say “hello” to the real world...Good-bye.” Bucky ended the livestream. He went to his account and clicked on the settings. At the very bottom, the cursor hovered over the “delete account” button. 

“This is for you, Y/N.” he clicked onto the button along with the ‘Yes, I’m sure’ and the account was gone. No more James Barnes, Cam Guy.

__________________________________________

You wallowed in your bed trying to pay attention the best you could to your tv in front of you. When your phone vibrated, you saw that Wanda had sent you a message.

You unlocked your phone to see that Wanda sent you a link to the cam4you website. Why would she send you this after you told her what happened? You clicked on it and it brought you to Bucky’s sight. It hurt to see him. The wave of emotions crashing down on you. You started to cry as you listened to Bucky speak. 

“I fucked up, guys. I was dating my baby doll for months and it was perfect. She was perfect. And I fucked up.” Psh. Understatement of the century.

You continued to listen to him summarize the situation and you tensed when he admitted he loves you. He loves you? If he loves you, why did he lie and cheat? If he loves you, why didn’t he tell you what was going on instead of hiding it from you? Is that really what you do to someone you love?

“Now I gotta say “good-bye” to the virtual world and say “hello” to the real world...Good-bye.” the stream ended, leaving you even more confused. 

Knock, knock, knock!

You set your phone down and wrapped your blanket around your body as you padded over to the door. You looked through the peephole to see Bucky standing there.

Knock, knock, knock!

“Y/N, I-I don’t know if you saw the livestream, but-but I’m done. I quit the website. I quit it all. I-I know it’s not much, but it’s the first step to me making it up to you. Well, technically the first step was me blocking Dot and deleting her number. So I guess quitting the website was the second-” the door swung open to reveal you, “-step.” he gulped, “H-Hi.”

You moved to the side, opening the door wider so he could walk in. He entered your apartment and immediately went to sit on your couch. 

You closed the door, following him, and sitting on the far side of the couch, “I don’t really know what to say other than you hurt me, Bucky. You took my trust and you stomped all over it. You-” you let out a sob, “you made me feel unwanted. Like I wasn’t good enough.”

Bucky’s hands itched to pull you to him, to hug you and make you feel better, but he lost that right, “Y/N, that’s not what I intended to do. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.”

“Why did it even happen in the first place, Bucky? I thought you were just going to talk with her online only?”

“She said she’d pay more if I did more so that’s what I did.”

“So you did it because of greed?”

He winced at your harshness, “Yes, and no. Yes because I wanted the money and no, because I was gonna put it towards having a future with you. I’ve had feelings for you for so long. Even before we started dating, I knew you were the one for me.”

“Did you develop feelings for her?”

Bucky looked down at his lap in shame, “A little.” he heard you scoffed and he looked up at you again, “But they couldn’t compare to my feelings for you!”

“You cheated on me, Bucky! If you really meant that you love me, you wouldn’t have done all this!”

“But I did it for you! I did it so when the time comes we’d be financially stable-”

“I don’t care about that, Bucky! I don’t care if we’re poor or rich! All I cared about was you and having you! I didn’t ask for you to try to get as much money as possible! I just wanted you!” you threw your head into your hands as you sobbed, “I really thought I was falling in love with you, Bucky. But now I can’t even look at you without thinking of how much you hurt me.”

Bucky wiped the stray tears from his eyes and nodded, “I understand. But this won’t stop me from loving you. I won’t go back to that site. I’m gonna get a real job and show you that I can be the man you truly deserve.” he stood up and walked over to you. He kissed your head, relishing the feel of your skin against his and the scent of your shampoo one last time. 

You didn’t look up as he trudged to the door, pulling it open, and walking out, it softly shutting behind him.

__________________________________________

Bucky sat across the table in Steve and Sharon’s kitchen. While Sharon got Jaime ready for bed, Bucky told Steve everything that happened with him, Dot, and you. 

Steve stared at his friend disappointedly, “I’m gonna be honest, Buck, I’m disgusted by you. Y/N was the perfect girl for you and you fucked it up because your dick liked the thrill of some twisted game this woman started! I can’t believe you threw away everything you had for Y/N! You’ve pined for her for so long and you go ahead and fuck it up!”

“I know, Steve! I know! And trust me when I say I hated myself every day since!”

Steve took a swig of his beer and spoke up again, “So you start looking for jobs?”

“Yeah, but there aren’t a lot of people looking for a guy who’s majored in art history.”

“You know, Tony’s opening up a restaurant in a few weeks.”

Bucky shrugged, “Yeah? And?”

“He’s looking for chefs.”

Bucky snorted, “I ain’t no Gordon Ramsay or Bobby Flay, Steve.”

“It’s something though. Just talk to him and see how it goes, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

__________________________________________

“So that’s it? It’s over?” Wanda asks on the phone as you work on making dinner.

You sighed, “Yeah, Wan. It’s over. I can’t take him back after he betrayed my trust like that. It’s-It’s too hard. Too much.”

“So what’re you gonna do now? You guys are neighbors. You can’t avoid each other all the time.”

“I’m already looking for a new apartment. There’s a building two blocks from work. It’d make commute a lot easier and I won’t have to see Bucky.”

“I was really rooting for you two, Y/N.”

“Yeah...me too.”

Part 13

TAGLIST IS CLOSED FOR THIS SERIES.

In Front of the Camera Taglist: @angryschnauzer @papi-chulo-bucky @sad-af1121 @thatawkwardtinyperson @cherrynat @221bshrlocked @liffydaze @acambridge @cinema212 @aw–heck @shaboibucky @yknott81 @hereforsumbucky @marvel-girl01 @spoonfuloffridges @forensicdeer @superpaperclip @thunderous-flower @danis-strange-inferno @bloodiedskirtts @maaryisafangirl @vgurl18 @smallmarvel @m4shtyx @his-paradox @slender--spirit @thebookwormslytherin @imarockstar45 @laheyakins @caramell0w @nattchelle @iamwarrenspeace @songsaboutcupcakes @stevethotgers @keldachick @ughitsmetina @lowkeysebby @swagfancroissantpizza @disco-planet

[honestlyconkus]

connor and markus having to deal with the media desperately trying to figure out if theyre a thing or not? love everything you write!

Conkus breaks the internet? HELL YEAH

-

Ring

Ring

Ring

On the 3rd ring Markus reached for his phone, groggy fingers grabbing the thin plastic device. His vision was still blurry from sleep. A digital clock glowed brightly and said 8:23am. It was a saturday.

“Hello?”

“MARKUS! OH MY GOD GET ON IRIS RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. MARKUS CAN YOU HEAR ME? MARKUS-“

At North’s screeching tones Markus pulled the phone a foot from his ear so she wouldn’t break his eardrums. She was still screaming at him from the speaker after a minute, her voice occasionally going static because she was speaking so loudly and quickly. When there was a break in her sentences that’s when he’d intercept.

North took a quick pause and Markus latched onto the silence. “Number 1, slow down. Number 2, why are you calling me so early again? Number 3, why do you want me online-”

“HAVE YOU BEEN READING THE NEWS YOU OLD FUCK, THEY’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT YOU! AND CONNOR.”

At Connor’s name his heart dropped, ice pooling at his chest. Shit. “Connor? What about him?”

“THEY SAID YOU GUYS ARE DATING. SO GET ON IRIS RIGHT NOW AND SET THIS ONE STRAIGHT WITH YOUR FRIENDS.”

“Uhm.”

“DON’T uhm ME YOU SLUT JUST FUCKING TALK TO US,” suddenly North gasped, her voice considerably dropping in pitch and in volume. “Unless Connor is sitting there right beside you, naked?!”

Actually, Connor was in his kitchen cooking him breakfast. He could smell the greasy scent of bacon and faintly hear Connor humming a tune. There were soft noises of kitchenware being moved around.

Markus figured Connor would take awhile, so he decided to go along with it. He’s also pretty sure North would have a heart attack if he didn’t answer at least one of her questions. “No no, he’s not here with me. Fine I’ll get on, just gimme a second.”

He hung up on North and walked to his desk, where it had a computer screen, a small LED bar meant for holograms, and a touchscreen surface for his keyboard. He logged in and clicked on IRIS, which was a video call service meant to talk to people over long distances. The camera took in a person’s image and turned them into 3D holograms, projected onto a patron’s LED. Markus gave them a call and watched as North, Simon and Josh manifested in holographic forms before him.

He could faintly see the walls and decorations of their bedroom. North’s hair was up in a towel, and she wore a fluffy white bathrobe. She seemed to be sitting in Simon’s lap, who was yawning quietly and resting his head against her chest, blond hair a messy bedhead. Josh was sitting from the bed, and Markus could barely see him wearing sweats and a tshirt, slightly smaller than the other 2. He was farther away.

“MARKUS!” Hologram North said, immediately pointing an accusatory finger at him. He moved back when the particles moved towards him, really feeling as if she were standing right in front of him.

“IS IT TRUE? ARE YOU AND CONNOR ANDERSON DATING? IF SO WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US.”

“And why aren’t you wearing a shirt,” Simon whined, eyeing Markus’ body up and down appreciatively. “You know it’s not fair to us, looking so hot all the time. You’re ruining my self esteem.”

Markus raised a hand, a small smile on his lips. “North, stop yelling. I’ll answer your questions when you stop giving me the Look. Also, where are these accusations even coming from? Simon, baby, you are quite literally a model. A Calvin Klein model at that, you don’t need to compare me to you to know that you’re just as hot, maybe even more so.”

Simon blushed and turned his face into North’s robe, who rolled her eyes but patted him on the back. “He’s right Simon stop saying dumb shit about yourself. And stop flirting with Markus, he has a boyfriend now, apparently.” She crossed her arms and glared at him through her webcam.

The likeness of her and her holographic form were uncanny.

“The rumours started when paps found a photo of you taken by someone, and they dropped a name,” Josh intervened, coming closer to view. He gently pushed North and Simon away and began sending him articles, links. “It began to escalate when people saw the articles and started tweeting them at you. I believe this all happened in a duration of 3 days. Did you really not know about this?”

Markus clicked on the messaging system and frowned when links upon links were sent to him. Mainly on blogs, articles, small funky websites. A lot of tweets too, entire threads about Markus and this mystery man. He’s surprised even news coverage was conducted.

Titles included, Who Is This Mystery Man?, Is Markus Manfred Single?, Markus Manfred: Dating?!, Mystery Man with Famous Detroit Painter, Markus Manfred! The list went on and on, each title only a slight variation to the other, and many sharing the same grainy photo; Markus and a man sitting together at a coffee shop, his face obscured by his baseball hat. The coverage was immense, certain sites trying to zoom in on the photo to try to decipher the mystery person. The name Connor Anderson repeatedly popped up, presumably the name the photographer fed sources.

He shook his head, sighing. “No. I was working on a painting the last few days. You know my rules when I paint; no social media until my main idea is done.”

Josh pushed the black wire-rimmed glasses up, his finger rubbing gently across his nose. “Well, it’s gotten big enough people are speculating what it possibly means, who this supposed “connor anderson” is, if he’s even the real connor, etc etc. People are even appearing on North and Simon’s lives and asking if we knew anything.”

“Which we didn’t,” North said, glaring angrily. If her eyes could light someone on fire Markus would be scorched. “Enlighten us, then.”

“Were you guys gonna tell us before the media found out or? Because honestly I feel like I’ve just been betrayed by my own mother. Which I have, by the way, when she ate my pint of strawberry ice cream back in 4th grade but that’s not the point. I mean, how could you do this to us, and more importantly to me?” She turned her nose up in the air and gestured to him, giving him an opening.

Markus opened his mouth then closed it, thinking about how to word the situation properly. He felt bad, he really did. His reasoning was because he didn’t want his friends involved and to end up being dragged along the wrong side of the screen; too many people have tried to do that to Markus already and he hated it.

His life was open to criticism, but he’d be damned if he let the people he loved get in the mix of it too.

“Okay, fine, Connor and I have been dating for quite some time now. Since… June 4th, I think?”

North let out a scream, which prompted Simon to scoot back so she could stand up and glare into the camera. Suddenly Connor entered the room, smiling wide and holding a tray of their breakfast. He set it down on a nearby table and walked closer.

“Good morning Markus- oh! Is that North? Hello North! It’s me Connor.”

From Jericho’s point of view, Connor’s holographic figure was small and dim due to the distance from the camera. When he came into view, hand wrapping around Markus’ neck and waving adorably at them, they all noticed 3 things.

Connor wearing one of Markus’ button downs- visibly buttoned wrong, wrinkled, and nothing else beneath

The small bruises, red and purple, peeking out of his white collar when he leaned forward.

Markus soft smile as Connor walked up to introduce himself, blue and green eyes looking absolutely smitten.

North continued screaming, standing up and walking out of the room for a moment. Connor watched as her little figure disappeared, concern knitted into his eyebrows. Her voice was merely an echo after a few seconds.

“Is she alright?”

The jericho boys nodded, Simon leaning forward, hand on his desk and chin on his hand, smiling. “She’ll be back, she just needs to let off some steam. But wow, congratulations you guys! I didn’t know you were dating.”

“Yeah, we’re sorry about that,” Connor said, taking his seat onto Markus’ lap. “We didn’t want it to become a big deal, and because he has the Manfred name putting this out public so early would’ve been a headache to him and the police department.”

“So we decided to give it a try secretly,” Markus continued. One hand reached beneath Connor’s shirt and gently drew circles with his fingers along the hips. His other hand rested against Connor’s thighs, also covered in marks. “See if we could, you know, make it work.”

“It looks like it did.” Josh winked, staring pointedly at the marks covering Connor’s body. Connor blushed and stood up, looking for a pair of joggers to present himself better. When he left North came back, towel gone and her hair brushed down. She was still wearing her robe, considerably less ruffled but still pissed.

“So what are we going to do?” North asked, sitting back onto Simon’s lap. Her voice was surprisingly clear despite screeching from the depths of her soul a minute ago. “The media is already trying to make this much more fucked up than it should be.”

Markus rolled his eyes. He’d heard the same things over and over again, always accusing him of plagiarism or thinking he’s up to a scandal, like his half brother Leo. They’re always trying to drag his name to the ground but he’d grown thick skin and it doesn’t bother him as much. “It’s fine. I don’t care what they think of me.”

“But what about Connor?” North pushed Josh to the side and began hunting for the harsher articles, the ones intent on tearing her best friend down.

“What about me?” Connor came back into view wearing Markus’ sweats and sat back down onto his boyfriend’s lap, sitting up straight and smiling curiously at North. She smiled back and blew his holographic figure a kiss.

“Hey baby. I’m still mad at you for not telling me anything, but I promise I won’t rip your fingers off when we meet next time. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Anyway,” She went back on her hunt, ignoring the stunned looks on everyone’s faces between their exchange. “I think the media figured out Markus wouldn’t give 2 shits, so they’ve decided to target Connor instead. They’re accusing him of his integrity, thinking he’s being sold out to Markus so Markus could hide his supposed scandals, maybe Connor is sleeping his way through the department to get a promotion, etc etc.”

She sent over the links to the articles, watching as Markus’ face grew tighter and tighter. Blue and green eyes were lit with a raging fury as the media attempt to get under his skin by attacking the one he loved. They went so far in the reach they even tried to link the two’s relationship with Connor’s father, Hank. Asking if his slump a few years back had anything to do with Connor being “bought” to succession in the precinct. It almost worked, until Connor leaned back to press his weight against Markus’ chest, reminding him he’s here.

He turned and gave Markus a quick kiss to the jaw, waiting until the beating heart he could feel slowed.

Connor wanted to laugh at the titles. Is Markus Manfred Hiding A Scandal?, Markus Manfred, Paying Detective Hush Money!, Detective Anderson A Sell Out!, Scandal In The DPD!

“Where these really all they could come up with?” Connor asked, clicking through, unbothered. “You’d think they went to school for this.”

“You’re not upset?” Markus asked, looking down at his lover. “You’re not mad about how the people will perceive you?”

“Of course I’m mad.” Connor said, rolling his eyes and jostling him with his elbow. “I’m mad that they’re attacking me for illogical reasons, trying to start something they don’t properly understand. The fact that no media outlets have reached out to us is ridiculous and embarrassing on their part. I’m mad they can’t even do their research correctly. I’m mad that this will hinder my future investigations, because detectives at the DPD still don’t like me and will do whatever it takes to tear a rookie like me down.”

Markus’ guilt grew at each passing sentence, feeling more and more to blame at getting Connor caught up in this, until Connor’s voice grew strong and he gave Markus a pointed look.

“I’m especially mad that they think they can get away with attacking my lover like this. They will regret doing this.”

Markus smiled, leaning down for a kiss. The crowd before them held a mixture of boos, cheers, and groans. In order: North, Simon, and Josh. Connor reciprocated by kissing him back, a simple kiss because of the audience.

He grew more bold when there weren’t people looking.

“So what do you want to do?” Josh asked, staring at the couple. “The easiest way to dispel the rumours from escalating is clearing anything up as soon as possible. A statement should suffice.” He was tapping rapidly on his keyboard, already looking at analytics for their social media profiles.

“You need to make it public,” Simon added, nodding in agreement. He began to list off ways they could make it happen. “Markus has a platform; Connor can come to us if he wants to say anything to the internet.”

“Whatever happens, we’re here for you Markus.” North concluded, nodding resolutely at her best friend. The rest of them agreed.

Markus felt his heart swell with pride and fierce love for his friends, the people he’d begun to consider family almost a year ago. He looked down at his boyfriend, who was also staring back at him, waiting for a response.

“What do you think Connor?”

Connor shrugged, sitting back comfortably into his lover’s warmth. “It’s up to you Markus. You’re the one with the social media accounts; it’d also make more sense for the public to hear it from you first. Like I said, their words don’t bother me like you imagined they would, but I think going public with our relationship would be a good idea. It’ll create less headaches for the both of us in the future, and I don’t see anything going wrong in this scenario. We can clear up any confusion, confirm the relationship, and hope no one is still homophobic in the year 2040.”

“Are you sure you want this?” Markus asked, brushing a thumb across the back of Connor’s palm. He stared in thought as Connor flipped his hand over, playing with Markus’ fingers until he intertwined their hands together. “It won’t be the same afterwards.”

“Are you kidding me?” Connor craned his neck to the right, looking up. His eyebrows were scrunched in disbelief. “I’ve been wanting to tell the world you were my boyfriend for months. Of course I want this.”

Everyone laughed at Markus’ perplexed expression, Connor grinning mischievously. He reached up and pulled Markus down for another kiss, this one slow and deliberate, tongues out, making the crowd whistle and cat call at their raunchiness. North had to clear her throat when she saw Connor arch his back, which only meant Markus’ hands had gone to discreet places.

“Alright you whores, it’s settled.” She smiled, crossing her arms across her chest. The couple broke apart and sat up, attentive. “We’ll start our plan of attack against those journalist goons with Markus. Beginning with his Instagram. Once you confirm with a cute photo of the 2 of you (keep it PG), Simon and I will also confirm anything on our lives.”

“Josh will handle twitter; just tweet out whatever the people want to hear, maybe do a Q&A or something, thread here and there.”

“Could I use my snapchat?” Connor offered, waving his phone in the air. North’s eyebrows rose in surprise and she chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. They hadn’t even known Connor had social media.

“You know, Connor, sometimes you really surprise me.”

“We’ll keep doing this until someone wants to interview us, I presume?” Markus asked, glancing between Jericho and Connor. They all nod and he relaxed against the chair, pacified.

“Huh.” Everyone held their breath, expectant.

There was a flash of white as Markus unlocked his phone, scrolling through his gallery for photos.

“Let’s do it.”

-

am I starting another series? I’m starting another series ;)

conkus breaks the internet

asks still open!! I’m trying to get as many as I can so that when college starts I can just post those and stay active for yall lol

[curious-fools-howl-to-the-moon]

Chapter 2 is here!! Still kind of slow, but building up! (And it’s another long one!)

She finished filling out the register information and hit log in. She had no chat requests and her inbox was empty, as to be expected from someone who just created an account. So far so good. She picked up her phone and texted Heather.

'Hey, what's your blue umbrella name?' And hit send.

She sat her phone to the side and stared at her computer screen, waiting for a text back. Minutes passed and no reply. No requests either, not even from random accounts. She sighed and picked up her phone again, "Come on Heather, the fuck?" she checked and saw no new messages before tossing her phone back down.

Finally her phone buzzed and she picked it up, it was Heather. She opened the text, 'Hey! Sorry for the late reply, was driving. Just text me your name, it'll be easier for me to find you.' Delilah sighed again to herself as she started typing out her username and hit the send button. Seconds later she got a reply. 'Smeared_Mascara??? What are you 12?? lol'

'You're lucky I even went on this stupid site to start with. Does anyone even use this anymore? I've been on here for almost ten minutes and not one message or requests, nothing.' she texted back and then instantly got a reply. So fast that Delilah was unsure if she even got her reply before she sent it. 

'Joking obviously Lemme look you up!' She tossed her phone to the side again as she waited for Heather's request.

A couple seconds passed and then a message box appeared on the screen saying [SUMMER_wHEATHER wants to chat with you! y/n?] Delilah felt a small smirk appear on her face. She hit the y button and started her message.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Seriously? Summer wheather? And you said MY username was childish.]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: Mine is NOT childish! It's totally clever!! Don't ruin my fun on here already :P]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Ok, ok. Calm yourself. I'm not gonna ruin anything. Not yet anyway, lol. What are you up to?]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: I'm home now. Chilling in my Pajamas. Really wanted to get out tonight but this weather sucks ass.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Agreed. Usually I like this kind of weather, but not when I have to run home in it and it fucks my makeup up. lol]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: Ugh, I hate rain. Regardless of how it treats my makeup. Just depressing. You have tomorrow off right?? You and I should go do something!] 

She smiled as her eyes read the message. She had to admit, that did sound like fun. She couldn't really remember the last time they got to hang out, it was definitely around the time Heather first moved down here.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Fuck it, that sounds fun. Let's do it, God knows I could use a break. Pam's been working me like a dog as of late. I think I might've pissed her off or something.]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: Yayyyyyyy!! Awesome!! Not that she's working you hard, obviously. Anyway, it's settled then. Maybe some shopping downtown and then we'll grab a bite to eat, my treat? And we're NOT going to the bar so no worries, lmfao] 

Delilah smirked to herself as she let out a chuckle. Heather could be a bit much sometimes, but most of the time she was just trying to be a solid friend. Something that Delilah was thankful she had. At least one.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Lmfao, sounds good. Thanks girl. You wanna pick me up tomorrow? Say around noon-ish?]

[SUMMER_wHEATHER: Uh, yeah? You can't very well walk all the way to my house??? lmao. I'm kidding! Noon sounds great! We're definitely gonna start using this website more often. SO much quicker than texting and you actually answer these. ;P lol. See you then! Love ya!!!! <3]

Delilah chuckled again as she typed. [SMEARED_MASCARA: Lol, you're hilarious. Love ya too. <3]

The next box that appeared simply read, [SUMMER_wHEATHER has gone offline] She scoffed, "Goodnight to you too, Heather." she said to herself as she moved her cursor to the closing tab button. Her finger hovered over it when another message box appeared and her computer dinged, she glanced to it with furrowed brows.

[B_H wants to chat with you! y/n]

Her brow raised, [B_H] sounded really bland, almost boring. Why would they want to chat with someone like her? Maybe it's some old person, it wouldn't surprise her if Heather had sent her to some website that had even more elderly people than Facebook. She shrugged to herself, she wasn't exactly ready for bed anyway. A few more minutes of talking to someone who was more than likely as interesting as a brick wall might do the trick. She reached over to the coffee table and took her beer, taking a sip of it as she hit the y button.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Hey.] she sent the message and laid back a little. She was usually the first one to start conversations anyway, even in the real world, so this wasn't anything new. Almost instantly, she heard her computer ding again and the blue message box appear. She opened it.

[B_H: Hello.] They replied. She arched a brow, they replied quickly. Maybe she was the only person they were talking to? She wondered if there was a group chat option or something? She wasn't sure how this thing even worked, but just hoped it wasn't too complicated.

[SMEARED_MASCARA: What's up?]

[B_H: I'm sitting at home bored out of my mind. Thought I could talk to some like minded people on here. What about you?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Just got home from work a few hours ago. It's been a long night and I'm just thankful I don't have to go in tomorrow, lol]

[B_H: Sorry to hear that, work sucks. Care to talk about it? I've had a few bad nights of my own.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Just a shit situation. I got out of it though. You work around Bridgton?]

[B_H: I do. Retail work downtown. Right near Mona's and that shit Chinese restaurant.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Lol, never had the food there. I'll steer clear. Thanks for the heads up.]

[B_H: You work in Bridgton too?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: I do. More IN town than downtown, but the people are just as bad I'm sure. lol]

[B_H: The worst.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: So what's the B_H stand for?]

[B_H: Just initials. I'm not that creative with usernames. What about yours?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: It was just basically my reflection tonight. Lol nothing special]

[B_H: Why is it smeared?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: It was raining when I got home, pouring actually. Completely ruined my eye makeup.]

[B_H: Oh, I see.] they sent another immediately after. [B_H: Your interests says you like computers. You work with them?]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: I don't work with them professionally. I use to do coding for my friend. I didn't look at your interests, you like them too? Lol] It wasn't exactly coding that she did, it was more like hacking, but that wasn't exactly something she wanted to type out in a chat box on the internet. Who knows how secure this site really was?

[B_H: I do actually, kind of a fan of anything you can take apart and put back together. Guess you could say I'm a tech guy.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Oh cool. I use to be really into it and still dabble in it from time to time, but the diner keeps me way too busy. Unfortunately, lol]

[B_H: You work at a diner?]

"Fuck." she said aloud to herself. [SMEARED_MASCARA: Yeah, lol.]

[B_H: I bet you deal with some of the worst people then.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Lol, anyone who works with people have the worst people.]

[B_H: Haha, agreed. Well, I won't hold you up, big day tomorrow right?]

Her brows furrowed as she read over the message. [SMEARED_MASCARA: What do you mean? lol]

[B_H: You said you had the day off? I just thought you'd be doing something exciting. You seem like that kind of person.]

She relaxed a bit and shook her head. [SMEARED_MASCARA: Oh right, I forgot I mentioned it. Must be more tired than I thought, lol. I hope it's exciting though and I'm glad that I seem like that kind of person.]

[B_H: You do. I'm glad we were able to talk, at least for a while.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Me too. I was a little hesitant to accept your chat to be honest, lol. I wasn't sure the kind of people that hang on this site.]

[B_H: Absolutely. Be careful of who you talk to on here. I've had my fair share of...weirdos.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: I bet, lol.]

[B_H: Well, have a good night. We should do this again soon. Honestly, I wasn't expecting to find anyone interesting on here, but I was wrong. I wanna get to know you better. You seem nice.]

She smiled to herself and started typing, [SMEARED_MASCARA: Aw, thanks lol. We will, for sure. I could use another friend. Having just one gets kind of lonely after a while lol.]

[B_H: I understand. I don't have many friends either.]

[SMEARED_MASCARA: Well, you seem pretty cool yourself. Kinda different from most of the people around here, but I like different. We'll add each other to our lists for later, have a nice night, B.]

[B_H: You too.]

[B_H has gone offline]

Delilah exited off the browser and closed her laptop, feeling a sense of excitement wash over her. It's been forever since she's talked with anyone that wasn't Heather. Not that she was anti-social or anything, because quite frankly she was the exact opposite. 

She loved talking with people and meeting new people, it's just everyone around here usually just ignored her. But it was strange, she hardly knew anything about this person. Their name, gender, age or even what they looked like. She didn't know any of it but for some reason she felt comfortable enough to tell them about her night as if they did know each other. Maybe it was just the complete and total anonymous of it all that made her so trusting. 

They don't know anything about her either, so there was nothing to lose. Regardless, she was glad she at least talked to someone different tonight. 

She stood from her couch, stretched her body and tossed her two beer bottles into the trash can before heading into her bedroom.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A man sat at a desk, his head tilted and his chin propped up underneath his palm as he stared at his computer screen. The homepage of Under Debbie's Blue Umbrella was right in front of him. 

His basement was almost pitch dark aside from the bright light that shined from his desktop. There were other computers that surrounded him, with monitors of all different sizes that were covered with different icons and websites. 

Various types of drawings were clothes pinned to string that hung from his ceiling. The drawings were...strange, to say the least. A lot of black and red, some looked to be scribbled with marker while others seemed to drip like paint.

Scattered around the shelves, on tables and under desks were scrap metal pieces from old and new electronics. Things he would use to build whatever he needed whenever he needed it. His head never moved from it's tilted state as he leaned back in his computer chair, the back of it squeaked as he did. 

His piercing blue eyes were still locked on the screen in front of himself. He appeared to be in his late twenties, he was thinner with short brown hair.

This man's name was Brady Hartsfield. Unknowingly to everyone else was also the infamous Mercedes Killer who went completely off the grid two years ago immediately after his crime had taken place. The crime of course being that he drove a Mercedes through a crowd of people at a job fair, leaving hardly any survivors. His face wasn't shown and so he was never caught and still resides in Bridgton Ohio to this day, right under Bill Hodges's nose. 

Bill Hodges was a detective, the same detective that tried so hard to put him behind bars after the murders. But he failed and since then has retired from his position as a on duty detective.

"Smeared Mascara, huh?" Brady said aloud to no one, his voice the only sound that emitted from the room. "Hm." He had to admit to himself, she intrigued him. He wasn't sure why, but she did. 

He finally tore his gaze away from the computer screen and over to the clock on his wall. It showed it was a little past one in the morning. He nodded to himself, as much as he hated to do it, he had to be at work tomorrow. Which meant he had to wake up earlier and that meant going to bed at a reasonable hour. Not that sleeping was ever something he did particularly well.

He pushed himself away from his desk and stood from the chair. As he made his way over to the bed his mind stayed focused on whoever this ‘SMEARED_MASCARA' was. She mentioned she worked at a diner in town, but that didn't really narrow it down. There were tons of diners in Bridgton. 

He rested his head on his pillow and pulled his sheets over himself as he stared at the wall. She said she did coding as well, he wondered what kind and why she did it.

She could be someone he needed. Someone who could help him. And even if she couldn't help him with exactly what he needed, he figured in the long run it would be a lot better to have her on his side than against him. It looked like he would be adding the task of trying to recruit her to his already long list of things to do. 

He had to be careful, precise and cautious. First thing first, he had to figure out if what she was saying was true. Was she really that experienced with computers? Did she really know about coding and possibly even hacking? This could be a good thing. A very good thing.

But if he slipped up, even for a second, she could find out everything she did not need to know. But then again, if she did, there was always a quick answer for that.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A car horn honked outside her house and it made her nearly jump out of her bed. A sense of dread washed over her as her eyes adjusted to the sun pouring in through her small bedroom window. She was still in the clothes she got home in last night, she didn't even get changed into pajamas.

"Oh you've gotta be shitting me..." she muttered to herself and swung her legs off the side of the bed. "I did not sleep until fucking noon..." she said in disbelief at herself. "Jesus Christ, Lilah..." she rubbed her face over with her hand just as her cellphone rang from the bedside table, making her jump again.

She grabbed it and looked to the caller ID; it was Heather. She sighed to herself and even though she was sure of what would be said, she answered it. "I know, I know." she said as she stood from the bed and walked to her kitchen. She heard Heather's cheerful morning voice speak from the phone. One of the many things Delilah was jealous of about Heather, she was definitely a morning person. Delilah on the other hand, a complete night owl.

"Hey! I'm parked out front! You coming out or what?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just...I needed to grab something." she winced at herself for not being able to come up with a better excuse than that. She knew Heather wasn't going to buy it, she was way smarter than that. She heard a scoff of disbelief from the other line.

"What do you have to-oh my God, Delilah. Are you seriously just waking up?" she asked, "You do know it's noon right?"

Delilah grabbed a cereal bar and bottled water, "Yes, I am aware it's noon." she closed her fridge with her foot and headed towards the door. She sat her phone on the counter and hit the speaker button as she started to put on her boots. "My fucking alarm didn't go off." she said with a grunt.

"Sure." her friend dragged out the word that was then followed by a laugh. "When did you finally go to sleep last night?" she asked, sounding more concerned than curious. Even though she was the same age as Delilah, Heather always was watching out for her like she was her mom. Occasionally making sure she ate right, got enough sleep and got out to have fun once in a while.

Delilah couldn't help but chuckle to herself, "I'm 27 years old Heather, I can go to bed whenever I want."

"Delilah..."

She sighed as she stood up, "Around like 2:45 or something." She looked over herself in the mirror, fixing her hair that stuck up around her head before pulling it into a ponytail. She reached into her bag and pulled out her makeup as she quickly started to apply it. 

"I just lost track of time. It's fine though, I'm literally about to walk out the door. See you in just a sec." She didn't give Heather anymore time to nag, instead she hung up her phone and stuck it in her pocket. She finished her makeup, grabbed her cereal bar and water then headed out her front door.

She closed it behind herself and could hear Heather's car engine running behind herself. She turned and jogged down the stairs towards the car, nearly tripping over her own feet. She caught herself and her breakfast she was holding but what she didn't catch was her cellphone that plummeted straight into the concrete sidewalk screen first.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed as Heather's passenger side window rolled down and she leaned towards it.

"Oh fuck was that your cell?" she asked, as if her phone were a child.

"Yeah. Exactly what kind of shit I needed this morning." Delilah muttered as she bent down and picked it up before making her way to the passenger side of Heather's car. She got in and closed the door, putting all her belongings in her lap. "Please don't be smashed..." she said as she squinted her eyes and flipped it over. 

Heather sharp intake of air told her that her fear had come true. She opened her eyes and her shoulder's dropped. The whole front screen was cracked, it started from the center and went out like a web. "Goddammit."

Heather took her phone from her hands and looked to it, "Maybe...it's not that bad off?" she said and Delilah shot her a stop bullshitting type look. She sighed, "I'm not joking, it might be fixable somehow..." she flipped it over to look at the back. "What kind of phone is this anyway?"

"An old as Hell one Pam gave me." she said as she took her phone back from her friend, "God, she is not gonna buy me a new one." she whined as she moved her thumb over the dented glass. Heather started up her car and began driving.

"Just eat your breakfast first, we'll figure out the phone thing. It won't be a big deal." she gave her a smile and Delilah didn't return the gesture. Instead she just stuffed her phone into her pocket and started to open her cereal bar.

"Why couldn't I have dropped this shit?" she held it up as she took at bite out of it. Heather laughed and shook her head as she sighed.

"Because it's us." she said and that made a small smirk appear on Delilah's lips.

"That I believe."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Heather got onto the main road that led into town, "So, why'd you get to bed so late last night?" she asked casually. "And I'm not buying the whole 'I lost track of time' excuse, because I'm not stupid." she added with a lighthearted laugh. Delilah nodded and scoffed.

"I know." she paused, "I had planned on going to bed right after we finished talking. But then I got another request, from someone named B_H." she shrugged and Heather raised a brow to her before looking back to the road. Delilah continued, "I accepted it and we talked for a bit. They seem pretty cool and they work in downtown Bridgton." she finished as she took another bite from her breakfast bar.

"Ooh." Heather almost sang, "Made a new friend, did we?" she smiled.

She smirked and shook her head, "This isn't high school. They said they were looking for some like-minded people to talk to, I guess I just fit that bill." she shrugged. "I don't know anything about them aside from their screen name, so I wouldn't call us friends."

"Well you have to find out more!" she said impatiently as she tapped the steering wheel with her polished nails. "I wanna know more about this guy and what he looks like!"

She scoffed, "I don't even know if it's a guy, Heather." she smiled, "For all I know they could be someone's grandma or something."

"You're screen name is smeared mascara...tell me an old grandma who would wanna talk with someone with that name." she let her words sit in the air for a moment, a sly smile appeared on her face. "I do know that a lot of guys would want to though. They probably think it sounds mysterious...sexy." she growled and Delilah nearly choked on her water.

"Heather, please." she said in between coughs, "I'm trying to eat my breakfast here."

She laughed and grinned, a pearly white smile. "It's alright to be excited about a new friend you know...or maybe something more?" she winked to her.

Delilah swallowed the last bite of her cereal bar and shook her head, "Alright, no more talking. You just drive now before I throw myself out of this moving car." Heather laughed again but her friend's words echoed in her ears. She started to wonder who exactly B_H was, and what they were doing talking to someone like her.

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[fightmewiatch]

Every so often, I have a day, one where something happens that keeps popping up things in my head that bug tf out of me. 

Today is...one of those days. Lol. But today I’m gonna write out, hopefully throwing it out will help me clear my head. (And it’s going under a cut, because it is looooong).

So, today I got an email from my supervisor that my productivity is really too low. Which, I knew that, I knew it wouldn’t be spot on. It was only based on the last few weeks, so I did email back to let her know that the last few weeks I’ve been getting constant headaches bc of my eyes / old glasses, but I finally went to the eye doctor last week so I should be better once I get the new glasses. 

Here’s the thing about this job. We log requests for medical records that are sent to specific hospitals/doctors offices/etc into our system (requests from patients, insurance, other health facilities, law firms, etc.). (We also send out the records, but I only do the first part of the job.) Working from home, I get assigned to a bunch of different facilities - sometimes that place is in Louisiana, sometimes Florida, sometimes it’s a country-wide place. When I change facilities, I have to “transfer” on my timecard, so they can see how long I’m spending in each website (and then the physical system keeps track of how many requests I’ve put in). 

It’s pretty much become commonplace for me to run out of work LONG before the end of the day, and then I email my super (same one who sent me my productivity), & ask for work. If I’m lucky, she answers me within ten minutes with more work. More often than not, I’m waiting between 30 minutes and several hours, and by that point, I email her at least one more time, and then try to find work on my own. 

No one has ever told me otherwise, so when I run out of work, I tend to stay in the facility I was last in (so instead of 2 hours in one place, I can be shown there for 2.5 or more, even without having work). When I emailed her back, I specifically asked her if there was a different place to “Transfer” to, so I don’t throw off my numbers, considering I often have to wait a while. 

To no surprise, I answered her at least an hour before the end of the day, and she didn’t answer. 

(I’m not looking for ways to fix this, I’m just basically throwing down what sparked the day.)

I’ve worked at 2 law firms in my life. 

Law Firm #1. 

Family firm (owned & run by a husband & wife - he was the name on the door, she was his secretary / office manager). 

This place was wild. 

I worked here twice. Once for two years, before I moved for school, and then after school (and a different job), I came back for another two and a half. And let me tell you. 

The first time I worked there, as secretary:

I worked part time. There was a second secretary who had been there a LOT longer that everyone loved but she was one of those older women who was certain no one else knew what they were talking about sometimes. 

My boss (owner, lead atty) wanted a listing of Potential Clients. Since we mostly did school law, business law, estate planning, and real estate, you think we would limit to that, yes? Nooooo. I had to make an excel spreadsheet of EVERY SINGLE PERSON in the phone book. Yes, you read that right. I had to spend my downtime putting THE PHONE BOOK (you remember those, right?) into an Excel Spreadsheet, so he could organize it by: first name, last name, city, address. Didn’t have an address? Find it by any possible means so long as it doesn’t cost money. 

My boss decided he loved Spreadsheets. I then had to transfer our entire client file (which was, at the time, comprised of about...2100 clients) into Excel. Also, so he could organize it by: First Name, Last Name, Business Name, Address/City, Reason for them being a client (god help us if they were there for multiple things), OR, for the schools, who the Superintendents were.

Sounds decent. But we had three different client lists to update every single time we got new info or a new client. Two in Word (one by Last Name, and one by Client Number) (which had been printed out for a hard copy that we had to keep reprinting to update them), & the one in Excel (which I fucking refused to print out, bc we’re talking HUNDREDS of pages, and what a waste of $$ and paper). 

Each time you created a new client, you had to write the information down on a sticky note and take it upstairs to K in billing, so she could make sure the information was put into her billing system. (and then she would give it to T who did payroll & incoming payments, so when people paid, they’d know what the $$ was for.)

Overall, my first 2 years there were okay. Nothing horrible, really, it was fine.

But then, the second time I worked there (approx. 3 years between leaving & coming back), in billing:

I was the billing assistant. K was still Head Billing. I adored her, we were friends despite the 30+ year age gap. 

The Billing Office was shared: me & K, and T had been transferred in there but she still did Payroll & Incoming. 

We were still at 4 attorneys, but 2 of the ones I used to work with were gone & 2 others were in place; and we fluctuated with other people in the building - 6 to 7 to 6 to 7. 

The secretary was the same as before, but she left about a month after I came back (she retired). They hired another woman, J. She was very experienced, very helpful, very firm, I really liked her. 

At first.

Her mom passed away (and I felt so bad, bc she hated her mom’s bf & there were a lot of issues and things), and afterwards, she wasn’t my friend anymore, she just seemed to be looking for a reason to leave. 

T was terrible with math (which is AWFUL for someone doing, you know, PAYROLL and INCOMING PAYMENTS). I mean terrible. We added up our own timecards, and I was shitty at keeping the math right, so I found a website to help (which I then shared with the paralegals who fucking loved it). But a couple times, T messed up hours for one of the paralegals, and the girl mentioned it to me bc I collected the cards (T had leg problems, so she limited herself to coming up & down the steps as much as she could - I did running for her). 

One time, when payroll got printed, and T was working from home, I checked her math, just because she wasn’t there, & I knew the boss would be leaving and if the paralegal didn’t catch it quickly, she would have to wait another day for the correct check (guys, you know how big of a pain that can be especially if you need that money). In the process, I pulled out J’s, trying to sort through them. I never just look at someone’s check stub, never ever, it is none of my business, and the only reason I was looking in the first place was hours, not pay. But J got a raise. No one in that building ever got a raise. Never. I’d worked there (at this point), a grand total of 3 years, and the only “raises” I got was a) bc they rehired me, and b) they wanted to make me a paralegal (which I didn’t want, but they let me keep the pay difference). 

The OM called me into her office a few hours later, and just ripped into me for going through payroll & telling everyone about J’s raise which is NO ONE else’s business, and I was so flustered bc I didn’t know what she was talking about. Turns out, J told the OM that I was telling everyone she got a raise, so instead of calmly asking me, she asked if I looked at payroll, and I was honest, and she just lectured me like a stern, mad, disappointed parent (you know...the tone of voice & the facial expressions that can send you into an anxiety attack). The young attorney was my friend, he actually came to my defense when he found out what happened, told the OM that I didn’t tell anyone anything, that J was bragging about her pay raise to the paralegals (and since he spent time down there working, he heard her). (I never did get an apology from J for lying about me, or from the OM for yelling at me like I was a disgrace.)

It was one of my responsibilities to go to Staples & pick up supplies with a business check. (That’s right. We didn’t order anything in, I physically drove up, shopped, paid, and hauled it back myself. In 2.5 years, I was only offered help twice. The young attorney had a perfect view of my car from his office, never came out unless I went in and asked (and I only ever asked him to carry the GIANT BOXES OF PAPER). We had a list down front of everything we needed - printer ink, paper, pens, staples, tape, etc etc etc. Sporadically, my boss would ask me to bring her the list, I’d triple check it so nothing got missed, and bring it to her, then she’d nod nod nod, hand me a signed check, and let me get it. 

One time, she told me to get everything we needed. No biggie, typically. But this rang out over $300, minimum (I’m almost blanking). I am telling you, she nearly had steam shooting out of her ears, and refused to let me go (like I’d messed up somehow) for well over a month. 

The bosses & at least one of their daughters (they had 4 kids) were Pro-Trump. (This is...this is all I need to say about this.)

J wound up showing up 2 hours late for work, going up to the boss, telling her she quits, and then leaving. (They tried to get her to stay with, you guessed it, another raise and a duty change. She still left.) We hired B, a lovely timid women. She was very, very nice, and as far as I know she’s still there. 

The two paralegals left and were replaced - one left, the 2nd trained the 1sts replacement, and then the replacement trained the 2nds replacement. (It was hilarious when the OM introduced us to the first replacement bc I knew her. I worked with her at the other law firm. We laughed, waved, smiled, good times.)

For a while, I had to sit in on meetings my boss had with clients (I had to take notes). This became rare for me, because once they had the 2 paralegals, they took turns, with B. We never really conversed with the clients beyond hi, but once I managed to have a nice conversation with a couple who had a place in Florida, and we talked bc it was at a place I had been to earlier the year before for my sister’s wedding, and we were having a nice conversation. Which, as you guessed, was interrupted by my boss who looked flummoxed that I, a low billing clerk, would have anything in common with his clients that he didn’t have in common with them. (He never said that, but you could see it well enough on his face.)

They had a quirk. They kept everything. Every bill that had been printed, it was printed, then copied - clients got the original, we kept two copies, one for when they paid (we would staple either a copy of the check or the check stub to the bill, so we knew what checks paid what bills), and then a copy for Billing, with any notes, adjustments, etc etc. (I’m talking bills back at least a decade, just thrown into the back apartment.)

I should mention here? The Office Building was an old apartment building. The entire downstairs and most of the upstairs had been converted into offices, but there was 1 last apartment in the very back that had a couple broken window panes, dust, bugs, etc etc. It’s where they stored old Bills & Paid Bills (anything older than 1 year). 

We’re pretty sure it’s haunted (I say this, bc I did record the sound of a giggling little girl in that back apartment, which is upstairs, not connected to any other buildings, and there were no little girls in there at the time.)

I worked there 2013 to 2017, this time around. Around 2014, I talked to K, and the OM, and made the suggestion to get rid of those bills. But not just toss them, no. Let’s SCAN THEM IN! I was excited when they loved the idea. (My poor, poor stupid self.) I had to scan in every bill (we’re talking thousands and thousands) of bills, I scanned in every single bill that we sent out between, like...2006 and 2015, by the time I left (I left Jan of 2017, and idk if I finished scanning in 2016 before I did). 

This meant: unstapling at least a dozen pages per bill, scanning in every page of the bill, plus every page fo the last draft bill (bc of course there are multiple drafts), logging every single bill into a Spreadsheet so we knew what we had, for whom, and where. I had to set up a bunch of fucking folders - one for every year, broken down into month, broken down to Schools or Miscellaneous (Everything else), broken down to Bills and Drafts, so we didn’t mix things up. This was fine if the bill was between 1 and 10 pages, but after 2009, we had bills that were twenty, thirty, forty pages long, I am not joking, and if one page messed up, I had to scan them all in AGAIN bc I was using the free Adobe.

It was tiring, so I printed out pricing, asked the OM if we could get the monthly subscription.(This was maybe mid 2014, I think). (And then promptly watched her hum, and put it somewhere never to be seen again.) K, her gracious soul, prompted the boss a couple times, but it was brushed off every time. 

I finally paid it myself, fuck it, I’m not rescanning 80 pages bc 1 page got stuck in the scanner. 

One months before I left, the paralegals asked me about it, bc they had me fix stuff, scan stuff, bc i Had the better program, so I told them were to look. They asked the OM, who then asked me why I was paying for it myself. (I could have screamed.)

My bosses were the kind of people who went to church, and thought that made them good people. The Big Man had a library of religious DVDs, books, CDs that he loaned out to people. Asked me to, yup, make and keep the Spreadsheet of everything - one for CDs/DVDs, one for Books - and then keep the log/keep track of who borrowed what, & when it was returned. (This included tagging each item with a number. Had 6 of the same thing? Then 6 of them were given the same number). I stopped keeping such good track when he started accepting returns & not telling me who brought them back, or started loaning them without telling me what and to whom, & started adding things in without telling me so I could label them (and then loaning them out without me having numbered/logged them). 

My boss wanted me to work on the Website and their FB page. Thought we could send out an email to everyone (when I say everyone, I don’t just mean clients, I mean every person he could get an email for in the county), and when the IT guy said no, bc a mass email that size would most likely go to Spam, he said “Isn’t there a way to make sure it goes in their inbox?” and we all looked at each other as he said, “No, not unless we hack everyone’s emails, and that is very much against the law.”

I got paid mileage, because I often went to Staples, the bank, the boss’ house, two of the employees’ houses, two of the schools (who needed their bills NOW, not whenever the mail was sent out) and the Post office. One time I wrote the wrong mileage - I added going to the employees’ house, bc I did, but I did it on my way to/from lunch, so it didn’t count, but I was in a rush to write it, and I forgot until she was asking me why it was broken up. When I told her, she gave me the look, like I was trying to steal from her, and lectured me about it. (It was an accident, okay?)

T had diabetes, and after a lot of other medical issues and family issues, she had even more and they had to take her leg below the knee, and because the office wasn’t Handicapped accessible (there was some legal loophole that kept them from having to update the building), she got to work from home. The OM honest-to-god, when we were talking about how awful it was that they had to take the leg, said (summarizing) no one else has problems in comparison. ....I had to stare to try and figure out if she was serious (she was), because, yeah, it’s awful, but her problems did not negate anyone else’s, and man I feel sorry if that’s how you feel. 

The program we used for billing went down one day. We called called texted called our IT guy, but he didn’t answer, didn’t answer, didn’t answer, and then finally said he’d be there at some point but he didn’t know when (he worked 3 other jobs, and was our IT guy, it was not a good setup, I’m sorry). My entire job revolved around this program, so I couldn’t do anything, so after waiting all morning, I emailed the OM before I went to lunch that I could just take the afternoon off (I figured it was better they not pay me at all, instead of paying me to twiddle my thumbs; K agreed (and she’d been there since they pretty much opened the doors at least 20 years before)), and then clocked out and went to lunch. when I dropped my mom off after, the OM called me, screaming at me because how dare I just leave, I needed to be in that office, just made me feel about an inch tall because I did that (and reminded me I had things I could do for the website, which I swear I had forgotten about bc I was so distracted by the damn program). I had to crawl back to work for the afternoon, and listen to another lecture, basically belittling me for the choice I made, that I don’t get to make that choice (I was seriously the only person who doesn’t get to make that choice, pretty much everyone else in that office was able to work from home, leave if something at the office wasn’t working, etc). (I still hear her in my head some days, if that tells you how bad that day fucked me up.)

We had bowed windows in Billing. We also had our own furnace/ac system. The insulation was long gone, so in the summer, if the AC was on (and down to about 60/65) it was fine, but the second it kicked off, you burned up. In the winter, if the heat was on (we had it cranked to 80), it was fine, but when it kicked off, it FROZE, i had to wear sweaters and gloves while I worked. K did, too. The first time I was there, they had space heaters up there. But the bosses hired the worst construction crew ever (hired them bc they were clients, btw), who had to rewire something else, which rigged Billing so that if we tried to use a space heater, it would blow the entire breaker on our side of the building.

Despite everything K or I said, about the fact that it leaked into billing when it rained, we were ignored. Until the day it poured in on me, and two ceiling tiles fell (lucky for them, I was already leaping out of my seat from the cold water, or I’d have had a field day). The guys fixed the side of the building, but never replaced the tiles (which we knew was because, if they replaced the two that had fallen, they’d have to replace all of them, which meant they’d have to admit to knowing about the mold in the ceiling). 

I’m adding these as an after-bullet-point, because I did these both times I worked there.

This firm handled business, school, estate plans, and real estate law. This meant they wanted brochures, but not just A Brochure, with highlights for the company, no. Brochures for the general work we did, our school work, our business work, our estate plans, & our real estate work, each one with each (relevant) attorney on it (as attorneys left, they had to be removed, & as they joined, they were added - including their photograph, which they didn’t always provide and I had to dig for). Brochures were tri-fold, but at one point, we had 5 attorneys, and with the other (honest to god) bull drivel that was on these brochures, 5 did not fit in a tri-fold, meaning I had to figure out how to fit a 5th without it looking ridiculous. (And my boss was kind of...irritating, in the fact that I should show him how it would look A DOZEN TIMES, in a DOZEN WAYS, get his sign off, print 20 copies - as he told me to do - only for him to “suddenly” change his mind, meaning I wasted paper (at minimum $25 a box, and ink at minimum $25 a cartridge/$49 for black & color).

Sometimes (two to three times a year, I think) they did seminars, where they would compile a binder related to the Specific Thing (estate planning, real estate, school staff training, etc), because they were going to basically hold a class, pass these binders out, teach the attendees things. It was always my responsibility to assemble these binders (which typically wound up being 1 for the file, 1 for the OM, 1 for boss, 1 for whatever attorney was presenting, and approx. 5 to 25, depending on how many people were attending). Low end, we’re talking 9, high end, 29. Before I could even begin to assemble, the boss/OM/attorney had to get the stuff together for the binder - the forms, the spreadsheets, the index, literally think of a Handbook, and that’s what we were putting together. The boss had final say on everything. This is a man who has no concept of a timeline. So the day before the presentation, he was finishing the edits. OM would give me a check (she didn’t bat an eye for this shit, ever), send me to Staples to pick up all the supplies: binders, cover stock (bc yes, I also had to print covers, and use a blank piece of matching cover stock as a “back cover”), ink, regular paper, divider pages (meaning: colored construction paper), pens & notepads (bc ofc those were included, in case they had to take notes), and brochure paper (bc those were included, too). In less than 8 hours, I had to: use my computer to print anything in color or anything on the non-regular-paper (the copy machine was only normal paper, b&w); copy everything 9-29 times in the copy machine; hole punch everything (with a hole punch that would do max 10 pages at a time, and honey, they were rarely only 10 pages); assemble in order the binders; trim the card stock covers (bc somehow, they never fucking fit otherwise); and then try to stack 9-29 uneven binders on the 2nd floor conference room table. (And sometimes? Yes. Sometimes, the boss would take one when I was half-way through (without me knowing sometimes btw), and make some changes, meaning I’d have to take them apart and redo those pages, which meant going back to the computer, editing the original document, reprinting & copying, repunching, and reindexing). Please note: yes, I said in less than 8 hours, but that is being generous, bc do you think this man was ready for me to start when I walked in? No. He’d call the office around 11 or 12 to have me start (he often “started his day” from home, a mile away), so I’d go pick up the information, get it done, and get started bc I had to get a check, shop for supplies, print, copy, punch, arrange, index 9 to 29 binders with min 10 pages in each, plus covers, plus divider pages as necessary, between 12pm and 5pm. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

(I know this is long, I’m sorry, last spot.)

My other job.

Law Firm #2

Owned by one man who was like 400 years old and half dust. (He was a piece of work. His son was also a lawyer, but he & his new wife hated his son, and he constantly tried to sue his son to keep him from using his name in his business. They...they had the same last name.)

His wife owned a dress shop that was PRICED HIGH but was not very good quality (and actually had a second shop in the City). 

They lived in a mansion. With maids. And the wife thought it appropriate to call in before we got in for the day, leave a list of things needed from the store, so one of the employees at the office (she used a couple of us as her own servants) could go to the store, get it, and bring it to the house.

I was hired as a Work Comp Clerk. Meaning I send out the subpoenas to health care facilities/doctors/etc to get bills and records for court. But the second they saw I’d been a secretary (at Firm #1) before, they took that chance. Made me secretary first thing in the morning (before the actual lady showed up), and for an hour after lunch (while the actual lady was at lunch). This was the busiest hour of the day. It was an 11 line phone, and no one else was allowed to answer it. (Firm #1? 4 lines and a fax, with 3 people as backup.) 

I did fine at first. Made friends with the girls I worked with, and the other attorneys.

The owner, and the office manager? Nope. They hated me. I hated them. They looked for anything to get mad at me for. 

I do not speak Spanish. 2 people in the office do (the secretary, and the woman who was made to do running for the wife). There was one time neither of them were in after lunch (usually 1 of them was there), while I was working the front desk, so of course someone called in that spoke Spanish. I told them, uno momento, por favor, bc I do know that much at least, put them on hold, called the OM. She raced up, started rifling the desk to tell me there was a sticky that said how to say one minute please, and I said “I know how to say that, and I did, that’s why they’re on hold. What do I do now?” And she looked at me like I’d grown a second head, before huffing and telling me to call our maintenance man (who spoke Spanish), so he could translate for me. (I think the secretary came in before I could, so she did the call for me. 

I started having trouble doing my job. I’d never get records or bills, I’d spend half the day on the phone going round & round trying to figure out what the problem was, I’d keep sending reminder requests, but some of them I just could not get. One of the attorneys I explained this too, and he took a second to realize what I meant, before saying it was fine, just try, and if I can’t, I can’t. 

Two of the attys left, and were replaced with 1 attorney who had just gotten his license, and one who had not yet taken the bar (so she legally wasn’t an attorney). They were nice, the attorneys there were (mostly) nice. 

About halfway through the time I worked there (8 months. I was there 8 months), someone started calling, leaving threatening messages at night on the voicemail. It got to the point that one night, the secretary asked me to cover the front desk a little bit before I went home bc she had to go in with the boss and the OM, and a cop, so they could play the messages and figure out what to do. She didn’t mention there was a cop coming, no one did, so when he showed up, I did what I’m trained to do (write down his name, what he wants, etc) and went back to the boss’ office to ask him. “Well who is it?” “Officer XX.” “...is his first name Officer?!” “...well, no.” “Go find out what his name is!” He actually even called me an idiot, in the loudest possible voice, and kicked me out of his office. I was shaking, I was so angry, and I went up front, and whipped the notepad to the desk (it’s funny now bc the young atty was coming out of his office, saw me throw the notepad, and turned back and went into his office lol). The cop asked me if he could go in and I said no, he wasn’t ready yet, and the cop sighed, said he had a job to do, and they called him, and I got short with him and basically told him they’d call up when they were ready, so SIT DOWN. (Thankfully, they called up for him, so I walked him back and then just sat at the front desk, seething.)

Honestly, that was the downfall. That was when I started looking for a job, but considering I’ve got anxiety and a fear of public speaking and all that non-fun stuff, it isn’t easy (and I never know how to answer interview questions, which genuinely makes them think I’m stupid, I’ve seen their faces). 

Just over a month before my birthday, I walked into work (on Monday), and went to put my bag at my desk. I got confused, seeing someone in my chair, but I just figured it was so she could train with the lady in the next desk, and I didn’t care bc I was working the front desk for that first hour. But just before the hour was up, the OM came up to me, asked me to come see her when I was done up there. Okay. Told me to bring my purse. ...o...okay. Finished the hour, grabbed my purse, went back. SURPRISE. That new girl was my replacement, and I was being demoted, which came with a pay decrease, as well as an hour decrease (although I was still expected to have lunch at the same time, and cover the front for the same time frames, even though they were taking 2 hours off my schedule every single day and over a dollar off my pay), and I was the runner. Because I wasn’t doing my job to their standards (they never told me that, they never gave me a warning, they never gave me a head’s up. Just BAM you’re fucked). I worked until 3 (per my new schedule), walked into her office, said “I’m not coming back, I can’t do this job anymore.” She shrugged, and turned away from me. I quit. (I had called my mom around lunch and her first words were “Fuck them, you quit & come home right now.” I just told her I needed to finish the day.)

I filed unemployment.

We did the hearing: one of the attorneys I liked was representing them, with the OM as one witness, and my closest coworker as the other. I felt awful and betrayed because we’d kept in touch (this was a month after I left, ish), but here she was telling them all my negative traits - including that I would stare out the window for periods of time. I explained to them (as I did while I worked there) that it helped my eyes, and helped me think, when I couldn’t remember my Next Step. After a little while of them talking shit about me, talking about how terrible I was, and all that stuff to make them file against me so I don’t get anything. And after hearing me say I had no warning, the hearing officer interrupted me and said “So...OM, you never gave her warning.” “Nope.” “You didn’t give her a head’s up, didn’t give her a chance to correct her problems, just expected her to keep working for you after cutting her hours, and her pay, and changing her responsibilities. With no warning.” “Right.” “Are you crazy?” I won. I laughed maniacally. 

When the following year’s W-2′s came out (i worked for them a few months the year they were for, so I needed theirs), mine didn’t show when it was supposed to, so I called. New girl, said she got hers, put me on hold, “called the OM”, who told her to tell me that yes, they were sent. I got it 3 days later (postmarked the day I called. Mailed mine out my fucking ass). 

added: Oh yeah. Someone had called at one point, & there was A Thing I was supposed to do, but no one had ever told me about it, never mentioned it, etc etc, so I didn’t know it existed, meaning I didn’t know there was something I didn’t know (following me?). I asked the OM. She said “well, if you didn’t know, you should have asked.” “...I...didn’t know. Like, in any capacity. How do I ask about something I don’t know exists? It’s not that I didn’t know how to do it, I didn’t know it was a thing.” “You should have asked.” 

Yeah.

I think that’s it. 

[fandom-imagines]

Runaway ➳ Min Yoongi X Reader

Chapter Fifteen:

Runaway Masterlist

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Suga) X Reader

Change ➳  Make or become different

“Like I said before. The only mistake I made, was dating you.” I stated plainly, surprising myself at how my whole attitude towards him had changed.

Had this been a few months ago, I would have been a shaking, sobbing mess on the counter I was currently leaning against, with him laughing down the phone instead of being silenced by me.

“Keep being a bitch and I’ll fly over to Korea myself.” He threatened, at which I chuckled.

“You can’t get on a plane drunk. Besides, last, I checked you didn’t have any money. You don’t have much left when you spend it all on drugs.” I said, making him growl in both anger and frustration.

“You’ve gone from being a pussy who flinches at the slightest thing and the only thing you can say are apologies to some strong independent woman who will backchat the man who has the most power over her in such a short period of time, what’s that about?” He asked, the teasing tone of his voice giving me the impression he was smirking to himself.

“Maybe I had a realisation that you don’t control me, and that I don’t need to do everything to please the people around me.” I spat, all my pent-up anger slowly, but surely, coming out.

“Oh, so now you’re sleeping with all those boys?”

“Totally, I fuck them all the time, you got me man.” I replied, sarcasm oozing out of my mouth.

“Wouldn’t surprise me, a whore like you. Desperate gold digger. Nobody would employ your ass, so you have to sleep with people for money.” He chuckled, causing me to cringe.

“Besides, I wouldn’t be sure they like you. You’d be surprised how many Korean people I know; how easy they are to manipulate into doing things for me. So, if I were you, I’d watch my back. Goodnight, Y/N.” He said, before hanging up the phone.

Surprisingly enough, I wasn’t a mess after this call. Instead, I turned towards my cupboard, grabbed a glass to get a drink, and headed to bed.

This was incredibly weird, especially for me.

A good type of weird.

I smiled to myself, placing the glass on the table beside my bed, stripping myself of my clothes to get ready to sleep.

I woke up the following day to the sound of my alarm, alerting me I had two hours until work.

I let out a small sigh, slowly sitting up in my bed and grabbing my phone.

TaeTae: Y/F/N Y/S/N!

TaeTae: Tell your boyfriend to stop punching Jungkook

TaeTae: Oh it’s 2am, makes sense why you’re not replying T~T

TaeTae: Hyung’s coming to kill me now for possibly waking you, if I don’t message you again I’m dead.

TaeTae: Update, I’m alive

Laughing to myself, I place my phone back in its usual spot, before heading to the shower.

“Morning everyone!” The cafes manager smiled, walking into the staffroom, paperwork in hand.

“Morning.” Everyone echoed, returning his smile.

“So, you may or may not know that the café is going to be undergoing some changes real soon, meaning it will be closed for a short period of time. Don’t worry though, you will all still be paid, it will be two weeks at a stretch. Today will be your last full day, so make the most of it!” He grinned, bidding us goodbye as we all headed to begin working for the day.

“Morning, Y/N” My co-worker, Ye-Eun greeted as we passed each other.

“Good morning.” I said, returning her smile as I headed towards the first table of the day.

The day went buy as quick as usual, each customer being sweet and polite.

As I turned around, I spotted someone I had never seen here before behind the counter, leaving me confused.

Was he new?

“Hey!” He waved, noticing me staring, making me blush in embarrassment.

“Hi, sorry do I know you?” I asked, walking towards him with a smile on my face.

“Ah, no I just started. I’m Seojun” He introduce, holding out his hand for me to shake.

“I’m Y/N” I smiled, taking his hand in my own and giving it a small shake.

The bright light of the café reflected from his brown hair, his brown eyes slightly covered by his fringe, but still visible.

His face held a permanent smile from what I had seen, and his dimples could make any girls knees weak, reminding me of Namjoon.

His frame was small, besides his shoulders which were broader than the rest of his body.

“I know, I saw you this morning.” He chuckled, earning a small laugh from me.

A customer nearby caught Seojuns attention, at which he smiled a nodded at the elder.

“That’s my cue, I’ll see you later, Y/N” He grinned, messing up his hair.

“See you.”

“For the last time, no you can’t cook!” was the first thing I heard as I walked into the boys’ dorms, causing me to chuckle.

Typical Jin.

“Hi, Y/N.” I heard Jimin say from the end of the hallway, giving me a small wave which I gladly returned.

“Hey, Jimin” I grinned, taking off my shoes.

“You’ll burn it all again, Namjoon! Or break something!” Jin yelled as Namjoon groaned.

As I walked into the kitchen, the first thing that caught my attention was Jin hitting Namjoon repeatedly with a spatula.

Jungkook was grabbing a packet of crisps from the cupboard as fast as he could, while Hobi watched out for him, making sure Jin was distracted to avoid a lecture, Taehyung was also in on the mission, prepared to distract anyone whenever necessary.

I laughed at the sight, catching the attention of Jin who turned to face Jungkook who now had the packet of crisps in hand, which led to Taehyung leaping forward and wrapping Jin into a tight hug, his hands covering his eyes as Jungkook grabbed the crisps as fast as he could and darted down the hallway, back to his room.

As soon as Jungkook was out of sight, Taehyung pulled away, a bright smile on his lips leaving Jin confused.

“Thanks for cooking, Jin!” He thanked, earning a confused nod from Jin, making Hoseok and I laugh, knowing what just happened.

“Why did Jungkook just run down into his room with a bag of crisps?” Yoongi questioned from the doorway, causing Taehyung and Hobi to groan.

“Hyung!” Tae gasped, pouting as he caught Jins gaze, immediately running off from the kitchen to avoid the lecture from Jin about eating before dinner, leaving Hobi alone to take the lecture himself.

“I don’t understand, did I do something” Yoongi asked, walking towards me and leaning on the counter besides me.

“Jungkook, Hobi and Taehyung were trying to steal a bag of crisps.” I explained nodding towards Hobi who was currently being scolded by Jin, as Namjoon sneakily took the spatula from the counter, walking towards the pan and poking the food inside of it, earning a loud hiss capturing Jins attention as he let out a shriek.

“I was trying to work on some music, but then I heard all this noise and couldn’t concentrate.” Yoongi sighed, thinking for a moment.

“I’m gonna go to the studio, you coming?” He asked, heading towards the door and grabbing his shoes.

“Sure” I shrugged, following him and grabbing my own shoes.

“You have a big studio.” Was the first thing to leave my mouth as we entered.

“All the studios I’ve worked in have been really small.” I said, watching as Yoongi immediately sat down in the chair, grabbing my elbows and pulling me to sit between his legs.

“You’ve worked in studios?” He asked, turning to the computer in front of him.

“Yeah, like I said, I used to write music before I had to give it up.” I shrugged, recalling the last conversation I had about music back at home.

“You either stop or your sister gets it. You’re not good enough to write music, so why bother?”

“Why’d you stop?”

“I was forced, some people didn’t agree with it, said I wasn’t good enough” I said surprisingly casually, leaving him confused.

“Forced?”

“Threatened, I guess. It’s a long story and you’re working” I smiled, nodding towards the computer that had a professional program open.

“Do you have any of your lyrics on your phone? Or a website? We could work on something, because my brain is completely fried” He sighed, as I nodded.

“Uh, yeah. The song lost I told you about is drafted on my drive.” I nodded, at which he smiled and leant over me, his hands either side of me and typed in the site for me to log on and get the lyrics for him to read over.

“You said you finished this the other day, right?” He asked after reading over it a few times.

“Yeah, a few weeks ago.” I blushed, wondering if he had figured out ‘found my way’ was about meeting him and the rest of Bangtan.

He definitely did, the smirk on his face proved it.

“Have you got a melody, tune yet?” He asked, at which I shook my head.

“Not yet, I haven’t had much time since I finished it.” I shrugged, making him nod and pat my thigh signalling me to jump up.

“Let’s go.” He said, nodding towards the keyboard at the other side of the room.

A few hours later Yoongi and I had finished the entire song, which seemed like something Bangtan would sing.

Well, it would make since considering one of the members helped make it.

“We make a good team.” Yoongi complimented, listening to the melody we had composed in such a brief period of time.

“See, impressive.” He said, causing me to blush.

I had never worked so well with someone before.

Even though I had worked with nearly 100 composers, I had never experienced something like this.

“You’re really good, whoever says otherwise is really fucking wrong.” He continued, making the blush on my cheeks darken even more.

“I know right” I joked, dramatically swinging my hair over my shoulder, at which he smiled.

“You’re such a meme, no wonder you and Jungkook get along” He smiled, walking towards me confusing me.

We stood in silence for a moment, before Yoongi’s lips pressed against my own, hands placed on my waist as my own made their way around his neck.

Suddenly, a loud noise of disgust came from the studio door, making us pull away.

Stood in the doorway was, surprise, Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Why does this always happen?” Taehyung complained, walking into the studio.

“Honestly hyung, if you’re going to do the dirty with her in your studio, at least take her out to dinner first. Jeez.” Jungkook joked, smirking until Yoongi hit him over the head.

“Shut up” Yoongi said, as Jungkook gently rubbed where he had been hit.

“What are you even doing here?” Yoongi asked, looking towards Taehyung, who was now sat on Yoongi’s chair.

“Jin-hyung told us to bring you food, because you usually stay here for hours without eating.” Taehyung explained, holding up the bag he had, had in his hands since he arrived.

“We got lamb skewers, we got some for us too. Basically, we’re crashing your studio” Jungkook said, giving us, an innocent smile and he sat down, taking some food from Taehyung.

“So, did you start a new song, hyung?” Jungkook asked, finishing off his lamb skewer.

“Well, we started and finished one, it turned out great.” Yoongi nodded, looking towards me, a small smile on his lips.

Taehyung and Jungkook shared a look for a moment, before looking between Yoongi and I leaving us confused.

“Hyung, you rarely let anyone in your studio.” Jungkook smirked, proud of himself for some unknown reason.

“So, when are you getting married?” Taehyung laughed, earning a glare from Yoongi as he threw a piece of meat at him, hitting him in the forehead, as we all chuckled.

“Hyung’s blushing!” Jungkook laughed, pointing at Yoongi’s cheeks that were tinted a light red, almost unnoticeable.

“Are you guys coming back to the dorm now? It’s getting late.” Taehyung asked, yawning as he looked at the time.

“I should be getting home, I have things to do.” I shrugged, stretching as I stood up.

“I’ll walk you, it’s dark.” Yoongi said, grabbing a mask from his desk before walking towards the three of us as Taehyung and Jungkook snickered, whispering to each other about Yoongi turning soft.

The four of us left the studio and out into the streets, as the cars flew down the road, obviously way over the speed limit, something that isn’t uncommon in Seoul. We walked in a comfortable silence for a while, until we reached the dorms.

“We’ll see you later” The youngers said, smiling as they walked back towards the dorm.

Once they were inside, Yoongi and I set off back towards my apartment, side by side.

“You don’t have to walk me, you know? I’m a big girl” I laughed, as he shook his head.

“Don’t want you getting kidnapped now, do I?” He smiled, his hand gently brushing mine.

Hesitantly, he looked around for a moment, before taking my hand in his, giving it a slight squeeze, standing closer to me making my cheeks light up a bright red. We remained in a comforting silence for most of the walk, the only noise coming from cars passing by, as we walked hand in hand down the street.

“I’ll see you later, right?” Yoongi asked, as we stood outside of my apartment.

“Of course, where else would I go?” I smiled, looking down at the ground for a second, still not used to being treated so sweetly.

Yoongi gave me a small smile, his mask now pulled down, hanging down his neck.

His lips pressed against mine, our hands still intertwined while his spare hand was pressed against my blushing cheeks.

“Goodnight, I’ll see you later.” He smiled, pulling his mask back up his face, watching me walk into the building before walking away.

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 11

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 301: Up at 1pm after a good few bevvies last night. usual Saturday stuff but my walk was astop/start affair due to yet more flooding. 

Facebook today informed me that Karen Wyles died suddenly. It really shocked me. I saw Guy and Gail while out walking (nice to bump into them and chat) and they told me it was a heart attack! I sent K a WhatsApp just in case she’d not heard. I put a few words on FB. I had known Karen for a long time and, while I took the piss a lot, she was a friend (that I often didn’t deserve) and a good person....I felt a responsibility to say something nice as a small homage.

During the week I ordered new boots (since my Merrells are fucked after only  few months but I am getting my money back) and, today, I also ordered McKenzie Attwood trainers (£20 cheap as fuck from JD Sports sale), slippers and jogging bottoms from Amazon. 

Now I am going to have pizza, drink, smoke and watch The Equalizer 2 (for the umpteenth time - I watched the first one last night). I could watch Tenet - Miles has given me his Amazon login details, which is pretty fucking cool of him, but I’m not in the mood.

Posh beat MK 3-0 at home. I fucking love beating them. It’s extremely satisfying.

Right, it’s Saturday, it’s nearly 9pm, time I got on it.

Day 302: Not the most mental night last night but still 4am-ish when I went to bed, so I am very pleased to type that I was up before my alarm this morning. But, also, as I type, at gone 10pm, I am fucking knackered. Just about to tuck into spicy-as-fuck sauasage casserole, wtach MotD2 and then bed!

Day 303: Slippers arrived today but they’re going back. Too tight in the left foot. I’m not wearing slippers in FFS!

Day 304: New trainers (McKenzie Attwoods) arrived. Now, this footwear I shall keep. £20, bargain.

Posh came from a goal down to beat Charlton at home 2-1. Nice.

I made some veg soup today and, quite frankly, it’s fucking stupidly chilli-fied. Barely edible.

Day 305: New trainers are sweet - wore them for my morning exercise routine. Pretty comfy - after a few wears, they’ll be ace, I think.

Got served notice on the house on Monday (why I didn’t enter that on day 303, I do not know). Lynda, from Woodfords, says a semi-detached place in Havelock Cottages is coming up that looks promising. I contacted Emily at Aspire today, there’s a two bed terrace in Basset Place coming up so i am looking at that on Monday. Choice of 2 I do hope! First is £700 pm, second £725.

Day 306: Flipping frustrating “nothing works” day at work, It’s been like it all year so far. Tbf, Sueanne gets it and is quite supportive, even though she dives in when I’ve been dealing with problems that drag on! It’s Thursday, I can’t wait for tomorrow and, I am all to aware, I am wishing what little life I have left away.

Spoke with dad, he had his first vaccination jab on Tuesday in Spalding - he said it was a very efficient process (he was full of praise) and that the jab itself was no bother, with no after effects apart from a slightly sore arm. Excellent!

Day 307: Not even one beer (Saporro) in, and I feel wasted. A toke has helped.

Day 308: New Scarpa boots arrived today and, while they will need some wearing in, I did the stair climb and a 45min walk in them. I think they are going to be ace. Just as well as the Merrells are falling apart.

I have decided to listen to the Rush back catalogue, 2112 (4th) is playing as I type. It’s been a trip down memory lane and a bloody good one!

I had a few beers last night, as yesterday’s entry confirms, which included a video catch up with Fog, Ham and Andy P. Gonna chat with Fog later tonight as well.

I watched King of Statten Island last night. I liked it but, in some parts, it was smultzy as hell, rendering it a 6/10. Later, I’m watching Outside the Wire and eating pizza. Can’t wait!

I reset my mobile yesterday ‘cos it’s been playing up. What a fucking ball ache, logging on to all the different apps, all the little settings you get so used to, only to miss them when set back to defaults. Things like the camera settings - photo size and watermark....ooooh, just realised, ‘first world problems’! Get a grip, Tim!

Day 309: SNOW! Thick and crisp and uneven. I walked 11.9km in it today and it fucking well knackered me out. The old Merrells held their own in the snow as well, totally waterproof and, for such a light boot, remarkably warm. I will actually be sorry to see them go.

Danny sent me a link to a free week’s worth of receipes from Hello Fresh (he’s nuts for it) so I and ordered one, worth nearly £40! 

Posh won away from home yesterday at Ipswich. Now, get this: the stats on the BBC’s report showed Posh had no shots on target but still won 0-1. How, might one ask? Own goal, that’s how. Piss funny!

Day 310: I am aching today. Walking in the snow yesterday certainly exercised different muscles than walking in mud. And, today, I walked less than normal, usual lunchtime but only 4km (instead of 8) in the evening. 

‘Cos of the snow, the woman from Aspire cried off showing me around 3 Bassett Place. At first I was well pissed off but, looking at the roads and traffic situation around Oundle, it was the right decision (she’d have had to get here from Nassington - a bit treacherous),

It’s just gone 8pm. I am going to eat and go to bed. It’s too fucking cold even with the heating on!

Day 311: Rearranged the viewing of Bassett Place tomorrow - I rang them ‘cos I saw it advertised on Facebook, FFS! My walk tonight was mad...melting snow, rain/sleet, ice made for fucking hard work. Plus, since I am wearing in the new Scarpas, I wore the Merrells. The right boot is now, most definitely not waterproof! Got home about 8pm, changed bed sheets, showered and made diner...bloody knackered. It’s now 11pm and I am off to beddy byes.

Day 312: Viewed Bassett Place and I really like it. It is advertised at £750pm but Emily (from Aspire) said it was £725. Sarah, who showed me round said there may be some leeway for the right tenant so i’ve asked if it could be done for £700. If so, I’ll take it. It’s a large two bed mid terrace, bigger than here (36, East Road), similar type place, just what I want. Fingers crossed.

Day 313: Having slept on it, I do believe I definitely want 3 Bassett Place. I phone Sarah at Apsire to say as much. She told me she’d forwarded my details and offer to the landlord and is waiting to hear. As yesterday, fingers crossed.

I couldn’t take the pic of the field for the Morning Walk album, too flooded due to melting snow. On that note, my new boots are getting worn in both by wear and by superficial looks, it’s that filthy out there. I need to clean them. I wonder that, if I’d cleaned the Merrells, they might have lasted a bit longer. That being said, no amount of cleaning would have save the soles from wearing as thin as quickly as they did.

Day 314: Typing on Day 315. I didn’t get Bassett Place, the landlord gave it to a couple who offerred full asking price. To say I was fucked off is an understatement. I phoned Emily to let her know as much. Tbf, she explained that the snow (delaying my original viewing) wasn’t her fault and that she is at the mercy of the landlord. Fair enough, when I heard her POV. But, I am still gutted. I should have gone for the full £750!

Glad the working week is over (I am really wishing my life away so far this year).

Long walk to Cotterstock - amazing light behind the clouds with a wolf moon (which I just looked up - full moon, basically) - I just wish I was a bit better at night photography, or at least the camera on the Mi9 was. However, once I tweak them a bit and post them, the feed back is usually good. In fact, I posted one on the move last night and someone on FB has asked if they can paint it!

Meatballs for tea and beers.

I have decided, when the year of this log is up, that I’ll end it (the diary, not my life, though that dark thought is never far away!). I have reached this decision because, while this diary is really only for me, it is as boring as fuck, really. I’ll continue to write a log but randomly, when the day’s events warrant it. It’ll be on the main Tumblr.

Day 315: Typing this on day 316. Up at 1pm-ish. Morning exercise routine, long walk curtailed by flooding (again!) more beers, smokes and trash food. Posh lost 2-0 away to Shrewsbury (a bit of a bogey team).

Day 316: Up at 1pm yet again. I really didn't feel like any exercise but I did the usual regardless. Google Fit isn’t fucking working!

I have got to start stopping these ridiculously late Friday and Saturday nights. My weekend is over before it’s begun. This coming Friday, I am not going to do the really long walk in the evening that i have become accustomed to - just a 8km one that I do most evening, and then start drinking earlier so as to go to bed early. If I can get out of bed in the Saturday morning, perhaps do a couple of long walks so as to get the weekly steps up.

Day 317: My left foot, during my lunchtime walk, killed. I must have sopped and undone & redone my laces 6 times. Dunno wtf is going on with the Scarpas. I wore my Merrells for the evening walk. I tried to got to Cotterstock but it was too flooded on the road just before the bridge!

Ordered new joggers, a boot brush and some new wireless earbuds (Mifo 05 plus Gen 2 - bought them off eBay -I hope they are the real deal, it’s the very latest spec and £74.99 instead of £89.99 from the Mifo website).

Day 318: I went shopping at 10.15pm mainly for pizza and party food since I have booked Monday off because it’s the Superbowl (Tampa vs Kansas) and booze! No fucking Sapporo. It was eerie shopping that late at the superstore in Corby. Boots still hurting (Merrells in the evening). Day 319: New ear buds arrived. Well impressed. So did the boot brush (BootBuddy) - on that note, boots weren’t so bad at lunchtime. I didn’t wear them in the evening but I think it’s just a ‘wearing them in’ thing, hopefully.

Day 320: Hello Fresh delivery day. I had pork and chipotle black bean tacos with pickled red onion, chipotle tomatoes and lettuce. It’s a good set up, decent ingredients and nice recipe sheets...but I don't need it, I’m good enough in the kitchen. And, I am no fan of minced pork. I am not being a fair judge though. Today, my sugars have been all over the place over 21 and under 2 mmol/L. I nearly fell asleep trying to recover from a low before my evening walk. When I got back (soaked - it was pissing down), I was over 21 by the time I had cooked it all....puts me off actually eating, even though I have to! Rang Barry Haddon today, to see how he is. I think he’s OK but, strangely, told me, during conversation, that he’s 77 years old. I don't think so! I also texted Posh Dave. I think he’s struggling being on his own (he lost mum and dad last year, I think). I must make more contact with him. I might call him over the weekend.

Day 321: Typing on Day 322 (well, 1am on day 323 actually). It was nice finishing work knowing I have Monday off. I also din’t do an extra long walk this evening as with most Fridays. Cooked the send Hello fresk meal, Mango chicken tacos -diced chicken thighs - it was alright. Rog video called so had a good chat with him and I invited Foggy to it (he was at his cousin John’s funeral today), so the three of us chewed the cud for a bit. I then went onto get fucking shitfaced. I couldn’t make it to bed with low sugars, lying on the runner rug, fell asleep, got up and could only make it top the living room rug..I felt so dodgy but I was too fucked and too full to even take more than a swig of coke. I think I’m going to fall asleep one drunken night, slip into a coma and then die. I can think of worse ways to go. Day 322: Typing  very late, it’s actually Sunday morning, 1.07am. I got out of bed at gone 2.30pm today. I managed my morning routine and a 8km walk (in the Scarpas, they are getting more comfortable since my episode of pain a few days ago; definitely a wearing in process). No booze after last night’s debacle. I am going to hit it during the Superbowl tomorrow though. The Hello fresh meal tonight was pasta chicken bake with pepper and courgette. Fucking lovely and I coudln’t eat it all. I’ve lerant that adding creme fresh to pasta, whacking it on top of meat and sauce on a casserole bowl and baking it for 15 minutes is the way to go. I watched The Dig tonight. It’s a good film but fucking glum. Posh won at home to Crewe today, 2-0. They are now 4th. Day 323:Bright as a button today, up at around 11:00am despite switch in the bedroom light off at just before 3am. Today’s walk was fucking hard work. It’s wintry, the wind was keen, strong and full of icy particles just not quite sleet. The fields between Park Wood and Monson Way were bloody tough. One wrong foot and you’d slip over. I did about 10 km; it took over 2 hours and felt like twice the distance.  I’ve just eaten Hello Fresk teryaki mince. It was good. One beer in, a film (probably One Night in Miami) and then Superbowl time. Day 324: The Superbowl was good. Tampa beat Kansas 31-9. The second half was a damp squib since Kansas never made a go of it. Tom Brady won his 7th ring. He is to American football what Federer is to tennis. The Weeknd half time show was excellent. So, it was about 4am I went to bed, nicely pissed. Up at just after 1pm. Exercise, omelette, long walk, done some washing. About to make the last Hello Fresh meal and watch One Night in Miami which I didn’t manage last night.   Richard sent me a message (screen shot of a) house up for shared ownership in Oundle (Sharmann & Quinney) - I need to look into what that is all about.

Day 325: Shared ownership isn’t straightforward and, actually, I have discovered that I need to look at something call ‘older persons shared ownership’ when I hit 55. Jon at work wants me to get involved in two additional pieces of work, he told me at the SUMO today (Sueanne is off) - he did say that “that’s what happens if you have a day off! Finished the last of the Hello Fresh (last night’s sausage bolognese including homemade garlic bread using a Tiger loaf from Co-Op which was reduced to 28p. I didn’t watch One Night in Miami last night. Shock. Day 326: I spoke with Lynda from Woodfords yesterday, viewing 13 Havelock Cottages tomorrow. Also, yesterday, Posh beat Ipswich 2-1 at home. They came from behind. Ipswich have never beaten Posh away. Simon Banwell posted on FB berating some new legislation whereby potentially people who travel and lie about it (the destination) are liable for 10 years in prison. His gripe is people get less for murder. I am beyond words...the potential for mass deaths of such actions! I tried to argue that case but it is, as always on social media, flogging a dead horse. Rachel Harris jumped on Simon’s bandwagon whereas Tim Francis posted a ‘well said’ to me (I think it’s genuine). Day 327: Carrying on directly from above; Candice Bellingsea, Rachel’s niece, Carla’s daughter, was also ‘vocal’ in defence of Simon’s post, joining in with the clamour for relaxation of lockdown (at the expense of safety) - citing more people commit suicide because of the mental pressure than die of covid. Well, today, I investigated and posted a FB status to poo-poo such claims. It felt good (and right) to address Candice’s ridiculous post albeit, I didn’t call her out directly but did have part of her comment on Simon’s post directly quoted in my status. I went to see 13 Havelock today. It’s OK. Not perfect but more than alright. When I left there I was very much in two minds but now, at 10:30pm, the place is growing on me. Still part of me thinks to hold out - I have got around 5 month’s notice left - but, if I let it go (and Lynda from Woodford’s has already said the landlord is happy for me to move in), I might regret it. I keep thinking of 3 Bassett Place though...if only I had said yes to £750 straightaway. That place would be perfect, I reckon. One major concern with 13 is the neighbours. There’s no way I could have my usual Friday and Saturday night revelry. But...I’ll sleep on it. I have only just finished doing some work - pissing about with Smartview Essbase (with Simon Welch’s help - he’s a bloody good bloke - no need to be so helpful, but he’s more than happy to be) - I sent him a Teams message to arrange a catch up tomorrow with some questions I have regarding the installation - he only bloody answered - working as late as I am! I have managed to watch some of One Night in Miami. Going to finish it now with a dirty, microwave hamburger for tea.

Day 328: Typing on day 329. Usual Friday but not so mad in the evening. One Night in Miami was good. For Friday’s viewing I chose Greenland. Not so good. Only 4 beers and two spliffs. I’m getting old! Day329: Up at 1pm, usual exercise including a long old walk. It included walking along the river (Oundle Mill bridge to the marina) for the fist time this year. The floods are in evidence but, obviously, receded enough to get through - that, or the resulting water, mud and boginess is frozen. I really enjoyed it today but it was freezing - the wind was evil at certain points. Tea’s on the go, beer in hand and I am going to watch War Dogs.  Posh’s game was off today due to a frozen pitch. Day 330: Typing on day 331. It wasn’t a mad Saturday night but mad enough to not be up until gone midday. Another nice long walk, Walk and eat is all I really do nowadays. I can’t even muster any enthusiasm to do housework since I am going to be out of here soon. I called Posh Dave in the evening. It was good to chat and I think he appreciated the call. He’s on his own and struggling, I get the impression. He told me both Matt Baxter (bowel) and Adi Mowles (neck) are undergoing treatment for cancer.

[theoddcatlady]

Online Dating

“His name should be… Augustus Payne…”

“Holy shit, Mike.”

I covered my mouth to muffle my laughter as my friend typed in the name. He grinned as he contemplated what to put next. “We’re a millionaire…”

“Mike!”

“We own a houseboat…”

“Mike!”

“We love walks on the beach…”

“Holy shit Mike, you are putting way too much effort into this!”

Mike laughed and sat back in the desk chair, steepling his fingers. “Hey man. If this gets us nudes, it’s worth it,” He said.

I had to agree. I took a sip of my soda and thought for a second. “Augustus also writes poetry. He’s looking to get published,” I offered up.

“Chase, you beautiful bastard. I could kiss you.”

I grinned before I went back to looking through profiles on a modeling website. This was probably one of the stupider ideas Mike has ever come up with, pretend to be this hot guy to get some hot girls to talk to us, but there were stupider ways to spend a Friday night.

I stopped scrolling when I saw this model with some European name I couldn’t pronounce. Generic hot white guy, high cheek bones, ruffled dark brown hair, light stubble. Perfect for what we needed. “Hey man, I found a face for Augustus.” I turned my phone so Mike could look.

Mike nodded. “Got it, gimme a sec to play in photoshop though. Just to touch him up.”

“He’s a fucking model, Mike, what kind of touching up does he need?”

Apparently ‘touching up’ meant changing a few backgrounds, adding a small scar under ‘Augustus’ lip, and turning his dark brown eyes very bright blue. I had to admit, Mike was good. If I didn’t know better I’d say I was looking at a real person.

Mike added the pics to the profile and sat back.

“And now, we wait.”

We didn’t have to wait long. One round of Overwatch later and Mike was shouting, “We got a girl! Holy shit she’s hot!”

I had to disagree. ‘Justine’ could afford to lose a few pounds and had a bit of a lazy eye, but Mike was focusing on one thing… er, two things if you get the hint of my drift.

“So, Justine…” Mike spoke aloud as he typed. “What do you think about sailing?”

I snorted. The poor girl ate every line up. Mike wasn’t exactly a looker, given he was thirty pounds overweight and had a serious case of pizza face, but he had one thing on me and that was he knew how to schmooze. Meanwhile I looked okay, but I was terrible with the ladies. I’d get this terrible stutter and forget my own name.

An hour in and I was already bored, wanting to go kick some more ass as Genji, but Mike was just getting started.

“Here.”

He had jotted down the password for the account. He pressed it into my hand and grinned.

“Get some practice talking to chicks. It might do you some good.”

The next morning I picked out Janette. She was a little older, past forty, but I figured a hot guy like Augustus would get her attention. Plus, I like them mature. I sent off a message telling her hello and complimented her necklace.

Aren’t I a little old for you, sweetie?

The best part about online messaging, I found out super quickly? I could take my time formulating a decent response.

I don’t think the age difference is a big deal, really. You’re like what, thirty two?

I patted myself on the back for that one. And Janette’s response declared me the winner.

We’ll go with that. Feel like sharing your poetry with me, Augustus dear?

I thought I’d drop this within a day, maybe two or three. But as days went on, I met more and more amazing girls. There was Janette of course. We’d sext at around three AM, which I was a bit clumsy with at first but thankfully she seemed to brush it off. Valarie was a cheerleader at a nearby college, very perky and I didn’t have to ask twice for boob pics. She sent me a lot more than that. Patti was a starving artist who liked to smoke weed and talk about her newest vision with me.

It was so much fun.

Mike had a few girls I noticed he’d talk to frequently, Lauren, Heidi, Mallory, but as an unspoken rule to each other we never looked at each other’s conversations. Some things were best left to the imagination.

Course when stuff really got good I got fucking mono. Yup. Mister ‘never kissed a girl’ clearly drank from the wrong water fountain and was out for the count for three weeks. I was in no mood to talk to girls or even look at nudes. I was just not up for it. I told Mike he better have fun without me and he laughed.

When I finally felt better, I decided to see if I could repair any of the relationships I’d let grow cold. I logged onto quite the surprise though.

My conversations had seemingly continued on at normal.

I snapped out of feeling sorry for myself to read through the conversations. It was like nothing had changed. ‘Augustus’ conversed with these women as normal, sharing new poetry and sending body shots from new modeling shoots.

I got annoyed. Mike had gone through my convos, which is something I hadn’t specified he not do, but it was a little uncomfortable to say the least. I was practicing my dirty talk on these chicks! Not cool man. Not cool.

Then I read the last messages sent to Valarie.

I’ll meet you on the lakeshore. We can take a swim.

hehehe! maybe a lil skinny dipping ;)

We’ll have to see, my pixie. I imagine you look even more ravishing in person. I can’t wait to meet you.

I slammed my laptop shut and picked up my phone. Furiously I punched in Mike’s number and waited for him to pick up.

A few rings and he answered, “What’s up my man? Still dead?”

“Dude, are you serious?”

I could hear Mike pause what he was doing. “Serious about what?” He asked.

I wanted to pitch my phone across the room. “You’re meeting Valarie? I don’t think she’s gonna not notice that you’re not six foot six with washboard abs!”

Mike paused. “Dude, the fuck you talking about?”

“The dating website, you moron!”

He was quiet for a bit before he laughed. “Seriously? Chase I’ve not been on there in days. Too busy trying to find a new roommate. You up for that by the way? I know you’re kinda jobless but we could make it work!”

Too irritated to play games, I hung up and went to bed. I still felt pretty fucked up and I wasn’t in the mood to be awake anymore.

The next morning I scrolled through my Facebook feed to be barraged with news of a murder.

“Isn’t it terrible? She was only twenty one!”

“She had so much to live for.”

“She had a FULL RIDE through college! Who could do this to her?”

I was confused. We might’ve lived in a college town, but other than the vandalism during pledge week it was pretty quiet. Murder was unheard of. I clicked to an article where the victim was named.

It was Valarie. But not quite the Valarie I knew.

She had the same smile, but she was a little chubbier, wore glasses, had not as shiny and full hair… and she was in a wheelchair.

I scrolled through the photos she’d sent me, I’d never realized I hadn’t ever seen her standing up before. I was more focused on other body parts… which were a little touched up. Something I hadn’t bothered to notice.

And yeah, it was murder. She was dragged into the lake and drowned. She didn’t stand a chance.

I looked up news from the past few weeks. Although another murder hadn’t rocked my town, there were quite a few missing girls and dead bodies in cities surrounding us. And I began to piece together who each one was.

Patti wasn’t a stoner, she was a meth addict and apparently got more money for drugs by whoring herself out. Mallory, one of Mike’s girls, didn’t have a yacht, she was apparently an avid canoe lover though. Lauren was ten years older than the pictures she posted. I could go on and on.

My best friend had gone serial killer on me. All these girls we’d talked to, they were maybe as fake as we were, but Mike had apparently taken personal offense to that.

I was wondering what the hell I could do when I realized that I was getting messaged by Janette… and I was apparently messaging her back.

“So, tonight? At the docks?”

“I cannot wait, Augustus. I’m going to be honest with you though.”

“Oh?”

“I’m... working on separating with my husband. It’s a very tough process, given our kids and all, so it isn’t legal yet.”

“Ah. I see. You omitted the truth… some might call that lying.”

“Is our date still on?”

“Sure.”

My heart was pounding in my ears. I had to stop this. Janette was actually a great person, I couldn’t let her get killed by my friend turned psycho.

I hurriedly began to type out a warning.

Janette don’t go it’s a trap!

When I hit send, my stomach dropped as the message didn’t go through. No matter how many times I tried, over and over, the message wouldn’t send. I must’ve sent a dozen warnings before I realized that Janette had gone offline.

Not sure what else to do, I got on my bike and began pedaling.

It was dark by the time I got to the docks, where Augustus supposedly kept his boat. I figured this is where Mike meant. I knew Mike was seriously out of shape, so I had the advantage. All I had to do was get him away from Janette and she could run and call the cops.

Foolproof.

I ran down the dock. Where the hell was Mike? I knew he didn’t own a boat, the guy worked at McDonald’s. Did he borrow someone’s? Heck, was he even on a boat?

I skidded to a stop when I read the name off of one of them.

Narcissus.

I don’t know why that name caught my eye, but then I heard the water splashing. Not just the soft splashes of it washing on the dock. The kind where someone’s thrashing about and trying to escape.

I ran down the docks, searching for the source, when I caught a figure kneeling out of the corner of my eye. I stopped and flashed the light on my phone on him.

The man was leaned over the edge of the deck, pushing someone’s head below the water. Someone who was no longer struggling. I could make out a dark blue jacket, I recognized it as Janette’s from her profile picture. The man stood, kicked her body into the ocean, and faced me.

I dropped my phone when I saw his face. It smash and the dock and the light went dead.

We were quiet. Then he walked forward. I couldn’t move. My legs were frozen. I could only make out his muscled silhouette in the dim moonlight. He was ten feet away. Then five. Then he was right in front of me.

I recognized that face, those eerily blue eyes. He leaned in close to me, smiling.

“Hello, father.”

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. His grip was like iron.

“I got rid of another liar for you. Don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with it. Keep trying, I’m sure you’ll find me a mother soon.”

And with that, Augustus hopped onto the Narcissus and sailed away into the night.

[commander-yinello]

The Matchmakers - Part 12

It's been 80 years...... Finally a new chapter! So sorry for the wait, JuZen week and other things have absolutely swarmed us, but finally we can get back on track! <3 I hope you enjoy, as always @setthestarsxnfire and I worked on this part!

Jumin Han: Yoosung, can I ask a favor of you?

Yoosung★: Sure, what is it?

ZEN: Don’t do it Yoosung, he will probably try to put you in debt

Jumin Han: STFU Zen. Jumin Han: I have to travel to Singapore for a business meeting. Jumin Han: Could you take care of Elizabeth the 3rd for two days?

ZEN: I take it back, accept the offer and chuck that furball out of a window

Jumin Han: Were it not for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.

V: Jumin!

MC: Please stop >.<

Jaehee Kang: ;;;;;

Yoosung★: Sure, if you guys stop fighting

Jumin Han: Thank you, and no, Zen deserves to be put in his place.

ZEN: D:< God I hate you!!

Jumin Han: You can stay in the penthouse for the time being. Jumin Han: Feel free to bring someone along, let it not be said I cannot be generous. Jumin Han: Not Seven.

707: Oh come on!!!

Jumin Han: Oh, and the alarm can be kind of tricky so be wary of that.

Yoosung★: Ah okay ;; I think I know who can help

Jumin Han: Good, I’ll be off then.

- Jumin Han has logged out -

ZEN: FUCK this dude I’m so mad I’m leaving

- ZEN has logged out -

- Private Mode activated -

V: Thanks Saeran, I was just about to ask

MC: Their fighting is killing me x.x

Saeran: I really think we should wait with a new plan until their feud ends

Jaehee Kang: I’m not sure I agree.

Yoosung★: While you guys think this out, I’m gonna prepare for the penthouse

707: Are you going to bring someone (pick me! I need to see Elly)

Saeran: Idiot brother =.=

Yoosung★: Haha, well…

***

- Private Messaging; Jumin Han, ZEN -

ZEN: Wow I can’t believe you’d trust Elizabeth and your penthouse to two young men just for our plan

Jumin Han: Yoosung and Saeran are good kids, I trust them. Jumin Han: Plus I have security cameras in the living room, we can spy on them

ZEN: There’s the babe I know <3

Jumin Han: It still feels weird when you call me that. Jumin Han: I like it.

ZEN: Good ZEN: I will miss you, you know

Jumin Han: Let me bring you on a trip next time.

ZEN: Only if I pay my half

Jumin Han: Always stubborn but the earnesty suits you. Jumin Han: I promise to call on this Skype app you recommended and we can watch those two hopefully get together

ZEN: Excellent, we can both see how I will win the bet

Jumin Han: You mean how I will win. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

ZEN: omg and here I thought only Seven used that emoji

***

“All we have to do is make sure the cat is fed, not thirsty and that she doesn’t go out, right?” He asked, watching as Yoosung placed down the huge bag of expensive cat food next to Elizabeth’s bowl.

Saeran still couldn’t believe the cat’s bowl was made of crystal, and it had fucking diamonds like decoration. While he ate in plastic plates most of the times.

“Yeah, and we have to keep her happy. Pets tend to get nostalgic without their owner around, and sometimes they refuse to eat as often as they need to.” Yoosung said, crouching down to pet the white cat as she ate her food. “Oh, and I almost forgot,” Saeran heard him mutter, and then he and Yoosung were staring into each other’s eyes. “Thank you for agreeing to come with me, I honestly didn’t feel like asking anyone else.”

The redhead couldn’t help but feel happy about that, it was nice to have someone feel that way about him. And no, there was no blush covering his cheeks nor was there a warm feeling spreading in his chest and stomach, hell no.

Although he had to admit that he was surprised when Yoosung had texted him right after lover boy number one had asked him to watch over the cat. It made him both nervous and happy to know that the blonde wanted him for company, and not only because the alarm of the penthouse was difficult to deal with.

He quickly stopped thinking about that to answer Yoosung, with a small smile on his face. “Sure, I like spending time with you. And the cat.” The last thing came out quickly, and perhaps a little bit forced, but Yoosung didn’t seem to notice, and Saeran was incredibly glad about that.

“I like spending time with you too! It’s nice, and you’re the only friend I have that plays videogames without cheating. Saeyoung installed multiple codes in LOLOL and that’s probably why he’s number one in the server.” Yoosung looked so upset and cute, it became impossible for Saeran not to laugh.

Wait.

Did he just think Yoosung was cute?

He looked back at the blonde, who was now scratching under the cat’s neck and sweet talking to her.

Well, it isn’t a lie.

After that, Yoosung and he spent hours playing LOLOL, petting Elizabeth when she approached them to sit in either one of their laps. It was nice, and he was glad that the cat liked him. The whole day consisted in them playing video games together, watching movies, and once or twice they went out to the balcony to look around, although they made sure to close the door. Jumin would scream at them if Elizabeth was ever out there.

Saeran would lie later, but he caught himself staring at Yoosung more than once.

He just couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde. He couldn’t look away from how the boy acted around him, around the cat, while they played LOLOL, and he was a bit more wild when he played video games, which was both hilarious and scary. Saeran must be losing his mind, because he kept thinking that everything Yoosung did was adorable, and he just loved to stare when the blonde smiled. It was like seeing the a little sun, warm and bright.

… It was incredibly hard to admit it.

But he liked Yoosung Kim, and not just as a friend.

He went to sleep that night thinking over and over just how soft Yoosung’s hair would feel under his hand. And how tender the blond’s lips looked.

Saeran had issues.

***

The next morning Yoosung woke up early. Dazed, and still sleepy enough to get scared for a minute when he realized he wasn't in his room.

After that he had gotten ready and went to have breakfast with an even more sleepy yet cute Saeran.

They decided to binge watch movies after that. And that's where they were currently.

The boy next to him shifted nervously in the couch, and Yoosung hoped nothing wrong was going on with Saeran, that would be worrying. He didn’t want Saeran to be upset in any kind of way, because it made him upset as well. And the game addict knew perfectly well why that was, he wasn’t dumb.

He had fallen in love with Saeran Choi.

But, let’s be honest, how couldn’t he? The redhead was always there for him, like the time, a week ago when they were doing the project with the website. Yoosung could have sworn they were going to kiss, but he was glad they didn’t, it would have been awkward.

At least at that moment... right now? The blonde wasn’t so sure. But then he started to remember all the things he had gone through with Saeran, from meeting each other, to that awkward coffee meeting with Zen, and the latest night they had spent texting each other until one of them fell asleep. It was sweet, the kind of thing you would expect two people that loved each other.

Oh boy, Yoosung definitely wanted that to happen, but not if Saeran didn't.

… He could risk it all now, or close his mouth for good. Well, he was a gamer, and he knew that you had to be brave if you ever wanted good things to you. Or at least that’s what he got from the Legend Of Zelda.

The final credits from Pirates of the Caribbean started to roll on the screen, and Saeran turned to him. Yoosung expected the blush creeping up his cheeks even before he felt it.

“I have something to tell you.” They both said at the same time, and their eyes widened in surprise at that. Yoosung ignored how his heart was pounding hard on his chest because of that.

“Go ahead.” Saeran mumbled, shrugging.

“No, no, you first.” He insisted, placing his hand in from of him and shaking them as if to prove his point.

“Yoosung.” Holy shit, it made his stomach twist when the boy said his name.

“Saeran.” Yoosung said, mimicking Saeran’s tone, and even tried to do the damos death glare, which of course, didn't work. It actually got the redhead to chuckle.

“You know what, Yoosung? Why don't we do it at the same time?” The older boy in front of him said, and he nodded. The redhead noticed and opened his litunagain to speak. “On the count of three.”

They both took deep breaths.

“One… Two… Three.”

“I love you.”

The two young adults had said that at the same time, and both of them seemed equally surprised by what the other had admitted. Saeran was thinking it was all too good to be true, and Yoosung was incredibly surprised yet joyous. But both boy’s hearts were beating hard on their chests.

Saeran reacted first, looking happy yet puzzled. “My ears must be betraying me but did you say the L word?”

Yoosung laughed, a huge smile on his lips. “I should be asking you that. You're not the type to say those kind of things.”

Saeran blushed and turned away, he covered his mouth with the back of his hand, they both knew Yoosung was right. “Only around you.” The redhead whispered, smirking.

That made Yoosung’s stomach flip like a pancake thrown off from the frying pan. “So, does that make us boyfriends? A couple?”

Saeran hummed, shifting on the couch so that his legs pointing at Yoosung, and he opened them wide. He did the same with his arms. “Come here.”

Yoosung wasted no time in going over there and snuggling around Saeran’s chest. They had done that before, when they used to watch horror movies with Saeyoung, but right now, it was special.

The redhead laughed a little, and when Yoosung asked, he explained that he had thought about running his hands through the blonde’s hair the last night.

The blonde blushed, but still shifted so that his fr- boyfriend’s hand was on top of his head.

They decided to continue their movie session by watching Avengers, a film they both loved.

***

“DAMN IT!” Zen burst out, slamming his fists down on the couch while on the other side of his screen Jumin chuckled.

“I guess we both won.”

“Both lost, you mean.” The actor crossed his arms, the laptop on his lap nearly falling off. Jumin on the skype call simply shrugged, the office background emphasizing his black suit.

It was nice of the executive to call him on his break. Zen sneakily wondered if Jumin had been watching the CCTV of his penthouse’s living room constantly, seeing as he called Zen moments before Yoosung and Saeran confessed, or if it had been a coincidence. He put his money on the former - he had been doing the same thing after all.

Jumin was hardly upset, instead hastily typing away on his own laptop. The soft pling caught Zen’s attention and he took a look at the Skype chatbox, shocked to find a link of an agenda there, with a date booked for the end of the week and his name and a doctor’s name in full written below.

“You already booked an appointment for me? Jumin, what the hell?” The actor bristled. How arrogant did Jumin have to be to think he would have won anyway?

The executive actually looked bashful. “I got a bit too excited and jumped the gun. I promise, I would have cancelled, had you won.”

Zen relaxed a little. Jumin did seem earnest. He brushed a hand through his silver hair. “...I suppose even if you lost, I would have still gone to the doctor.” Really, he didn’t hate cats, it was just hard to be around them and back when he thought he disliked Jumin, he couldn’t have cared less. But now he wanted to be closer to Jumin… And the way Jumin’s eyes lit up from the idea of Elizabeth and him together made his heart beat a million times a minute.

The wide smile on the raven-haired man gave him the same feeling, his face warming up from the handsome sight. “And you need to start brushing up on your cooking skills.” He winked, making Jumin tug at his tie. Zen loved it when Jumin did that because of him.

“Will you teach me how to make commoner pancakes?” Jumin touched the screen, as if he were touching Zen and it made the actor miss him even more.

“All the commoner food.” He promised, returning the gesture. Jumin would be back tomorrow, they could already get started.

After a bit of sassy flirting, Jumin announced he had to get back to work. Zen took a peek at the corner of his screen where the CCTV happily displayed the new couple watching their movie, which got him wondering what was going to happen next.

“So now that Yoosung and Saeran are settled, should we tell the RFA about us?”

“No, not yet. I am pretty sure they will try to hide it, shy as they are. Plus I think it’s time we helped my assistant realize her feelings for a certain newcomer of the RFA.”