#and here just yesterday i was like 'oh i should get into a regular schedule of drawing practice! i should do commissions!'

[frostydraconis]

I want to not exist rn, quite frankly

[good-chimes]

THE H.T.G.Y. FILES

Project team notes: Vat growth stage has been successful. Please note project is titled Human Tactical Ground-unit Y (H.T.G.Y.) and this is the only designation that should be used. Lab technicians who continue to use slang term hotguy will be written up. 

Senior researcher CUB-135 has been called in to consult. Please give him access to all non-sensitive files.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Well, hello there!

CUB-135: Hi. How’s it, uh. How’s it going?

HTGY: How’s it going? Huh, that’s the first time someone’s asked me that. Wait a minute. I know that one. How’s it going. Oh, oh, I got it. It’s going great!

CUB-135: …Cool.

HTGY: Yeah. Yeah. Isn’t it great to be alive and awake? How’s it treating you?

CUB-135: It’s magnificent.

HTGY: [laughing] Magnificent. Oh, I like that. Who are you, my friend?

CUB-135: I’m a consultant. Cub-one-three-five. The project team dragged me in because I wrote the genome.

HTGY: Consultant…. So you’re the one who does their thinking for them, huh?

CUB-135: [surprised laugh] Yeah.

HTGY: Well, I’m telling you, they need it. Buncha people prodding me to see if I can stand up! You can just ask that, can’t you? A man’s gotta have space, Cub. A man’s gotta do things under his own steam.

CUB-135: Yeah, I guess. Yeah.

HTGY: [conspiratorial] Here’s a question. Got a lot of things in my head, Cub. The ol’ memory’s all messed up. I’m new, right?

CUB-135: You’re new. That’s right.

HTGY: I thought so! How new?

CUB-135: Uhh… three days? Three days and two hours.

HTGY: Thank you! Finally. Can’t get a straight answer out of anyone here.

CUB-135: …you want your genome notes?

HTGY: Boy, do I! What’s a genome?

CUB-135: Uh. Okay. Let’s see what we can do. I need some files. A lotta files.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Oh, we have to stop.

CUB-135: Yeah?

HTGY: That noise means I gotta be somewhere.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Just more prodding and check-ups, I guess. Can’t take long. Come back, okay? I'll be here, at least I guess I'll be here. I've been here all the time so far. Tomorrow?

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Alright. Tomorrow.

+

DEATH COUNT: 1

+

Project team notes: First trial (subject vs two skeletons obtained from Lab 2E spawner) did not meet expectations. Subject (H.T.G.Y.) is slow to grasp the basics of hand-to-hand combat despite neural implants. Speed below benchmark. Precision poor. Regeneration not fast enough to alter outcome of combat.

Although a disappointing start to the project, there are promising leads in some areas. Combat abilities expected to improve through repetition. Deficiencies in combat conversely allow better collection of regeneration data.

Subject observation: when returned to room, subject spent six hours seated and unmoving. Scheduling next test for tomorrow.

+

[CUB-135 OBSERVATIONS]

note to self, find a way to phrase: ‘he was a project for faster injury regeneration, you fucking amateurs, nothing in that genome makes him magically good at fighting’ in a way that doesn’t include the phrase ‘you fucking amateurs’. difficult problem. 

going back in. this one will be less fun.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, it’s Mister Does-The-Thinking! Cub, hey, Cub!

CUB-135: Hey.

HTGY: You’re looking serious today. What’s up?

CUB-135: I’m good. I’m good.

HTGY: That’s what I like to hear. Can’t have the big-brain guy down in the dumps.

CUB-135: How was yesterday?

HTGY: Ohhh. Yesterday, Cub, yesterday. I don’t think I’m that good at fighting. There were a lot of very unhelpful skeletons, Cub. A lot of them! Really mean! I think it’s going to be regular. I am not looking forward to that.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Any chance you can make it, y’know. Fewer monsters? They hurt.

CUB-135: Sorry, man. I don’t set the tests.

HTGY: Naw, I didn’t think so. You don’t look like a guy in charge.

CUB-135: Is that right?

HTGY: You’re just, you know [hand gesture] … laid back. I like that about you.

CUB-135: Uh.

HTGY: So. Cub. Cub, Cub, Cub.

CUB-135: …yeah?

HTGY: I’ve got this thing in my head. The sky.

CUB-135: The sky? Like… all of it?

HTGY: I dunno! You people put some pictures in my memories when you made me, I think. Horizons, clouds—I know they’re made of water, but how does that work? I saw a bit during the fight and it was kind of grey? Talk me through clouds, Cub. You’re good at explaining. And the rest of it! Where does it stop? What’s above it?

CUB-135: Oh, dude. Let me tell you… let me tell you about space.

+

To: +Team_Members_HTGY_Project

From: CUB-135

Y’all,

I looked at your trial notes. Project lead asked for my thoughts. My thoughts:

- inefficient; - could get the same regeneration data from tissue samples; - waste of skeletons.

You want to find another way. The combat unit thing was doomed from the start. If you want a supersoldier you should start over with a ravager.

have a real one,

Cub

+

Project team notes: One-month project milestone. Consultancy from CUB-135 has started to be more of a problem than an asset. Unfortunately he is the only one who understands how to process the regeneration data so assistance remains necessary for now. Upskilling of team analysts in progress.

Test continue. H.T.G.Y. has been given a variety of weapons and results range from abysmal (sword) to mediocre (bow). Subject has so far lost to every creature put in front of him. If the combat goals of this project are to be met, a better training regime will be needed.

On a separate note: great interest from sponsors in mid-combat regeneration data. A variety of tests has been requested.

+

New data storage links: EXPLOSION (creeper) – File CR93; FIRE BURN (wood) – File FR02; FIRE BURN (other) – File FR03; BLOOD LOSS – File IN20; VENOM – File VM07, UNCATEGORIZED – UN45-UN51.

+

DEATH COUNT: 23

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: You know what the problem is?

CUB-135: I can guess?

HTGY: I’m so bored.

CUB-135: Okay. Didn’t see that coming.

HTGY: I’m so bored. Honestly, I’m bored most of the time. Except when I’m getting killed, which isn’t great either. Or when you’re here—you know I appreciate you, Cub, you’re a great guy, don’t get me wrong. But you’re only around every couple of days, and it’s the bits in between.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Can’t you clone yourself, or something, and leave one here?

CUB-135: Nah, outside my specialism. Hm. You talked to Mumbo much? Mumbo’s always around.

HTGY: The lab system?

[null]: Hello. Can I answer a query?

HTGY: Oh, hi, Mumbo. Yeah, I’ve talked to Mumbo. But let’s be honest, he’s not much of one to start conversations. I can never think of things to ask.

[null]: What I can communicate to subjects on this level has been restricted by administrators.

HTGY: See?

CUB-135: Get him to show you… I dunno. Cat videos. Space stuff. Forests. They won’t have locked that down.

HTGY: Forests. Yeah! Okay. Mumbo?

[null]: I’m allowed to show pictures of forests. How’s this?

HTGY: Look at that. So green. So many trees! How close is that picture from here?

CUB-135: Kinda nearby, I think. Looks like a research shot from where they caught the spiders. Lots of the wild subjects in here came from close by.

HTGY: Amazing. Hey, Cub, can you get them to take me to a forest? Tree training! Beat the spiders in their own home!

CUB-135: Why not? I’ll ask.

HTGY: They’ll say no. But it’s good to think of it out there.

+

Project team notes: Six-month project milestone. Useful data continues to accumulate. HTGY has improved with bow and crossbow, and survival rate has risen to one in ten encounters.

Unfortunately, a new issue has arisen in subject cooperation. Most tests are set up to incentivize survival, making attitude irrelevant. However non-lethal tests require participation, which has previously been forthcoming from the subject, until yesterday when he refused to participate at all.

CUB-135 seems to have a rapport. Suggest he talks with subject to encourage better attitude. This would be the first useful thing CUB-135 has done in weeks.

+

DEATH COUNT: 97

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. What’s up.

HTGY: Oh. Hey.

CUB-135: Not feeling it today?

HTGY: I knew it. I know why you’re here. I know why they sent you to talk to me.

CUB-135: Try me.

HTGY: It was a cat, Cub. I’ll take the fights. I’ll take the training machines, they break half the time anyway. I’ll take the spiders and the skeletons and the creepers and the fact I know way too much about what my bones look like. But I’m not shooting a cat! I don’t care if it’s safe target practice. I’m not doing it!

CUB-135: Yeah. Okay.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: So what do you wanna talk about today?

HTGY: You’re not gonna try and convince me?

CUB-135: Naw.

HTGY: Cub, I’m not shooting anything that’s not trying to kill me.

CUB-135: Yeah, I know.

HTGY: You know?

CUB-135: I read your test notes. I can guess.

HTGY: Aw, you read my test notes? You care! Don’t pretend you don’t, I can see through it.

CUB-135: What can I say. You’re an interesting guy.

HTGY: I knew it! Oh, hey, Cub, you know what? I came up with a new name for myself. What do you think—[dramatic hand gesture]—Scar.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Cool, right?

CUB-135: Scar. Yeah. It’s cool.

+

Project team notes: CUB-135 entirely unhelpful. Schedule escalation meeting with bioprojects lead.

+

[message log start]

Lead (bioprojects): Well, you got what you originally wanted. You’re off the HTGY project.

cub-135: wait, what?

Lead (bioprojects): You’re no longer permitted in the labs on that level. I need you to turn in your badge for reprogramming.

cub-135: oh man

cub-135: here’s the thing

cub-135: i lost it

Lead (bioprojects): You lost your BADGE?

cub-135: yeah i’ve just been following people through the access doors

Lead (bioprojects): That’s against all policy. I don’t think that’s even possible. How do you get lunch?

cub-135: cheat code on the cash register. up up down down A B.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re not funny. Find your badge and turn it in to get your HTGY level access revoked.

cub-135: oh yeah. i’ll get to that.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re lucky you’re good at your job.

cub-135: just trying my best here, man

Lead (bioprojects): No interference. If the team complain to me about you again, you’re getting demoted to junior lab tech. Leave the project alone.

cub-135: sure boss.

cub-135: you got it.

[Lead(bioprojects) has disconnected]

+

Project Team Notes: Eight-month project milestone. Sponsors pleased with regeneration data. Two papers have been published to modest but positive reception.

After period of progress with HTGY’s survival rates in combat, improvement has levelled off. Subject appears to have less energy for reasons that are unclear. Random observational checks found subject watching cat videos at all hours of the day. Changes in diet and test structure have been tested to no effect. Rest time has been experimentally increased.

+

DEATH COUNT: 167

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, Cub! Long time no see!

Cub: Yeah, sorry, man. Some admin bullshit.

HTGY: Your badge looks different.

Cub: Made it myself. How’s the tests?

HTGY: Oh, let’s not talk about those. You know what, I actually decided I’m not going to remember something if it’s not worth it. All the fights are the same and they keep doing them. So! I’ve been thinking. Cub. Cub. I want a cat. Can I get a cat?

Cub: …

HTGY: Just a little one. I’ve seen some options. Mumbo has pictures. 

Cub: Dunno, dude. I can try. Might be tricky.

HTGY: [sigh] I guess you’re right. It…wouldn’t be happy, would it? Yeah. We can’t have that.

CUB: Sorry.

HTGY: No, no, it’s all right. I don’t want to make something unhappy. It was just a thought. 

CUB-135: What’s on the screen?

HTGY: [brightens up] Oh, this? Dude, I wanted to show you this! Mumbo has this drawing program where you can build houses. This is my idea for a forest house. I think you could do it with three kinds of wood and you could have, you know, all these trees over it. What do you think? I mean, I know we’ll never see a forest. But imagine it in your mind.

CUB: … You know what, my friend, you’re really something.

HTGY: Why thank you. You could say the same of yourself—come on, Cub, don’t be shy. Take the compliment!

CUB-135: I don’t—

[silence]

HTGY: Don’t what?

CUB-135: [abruptly] I dunno how much more I can take.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: I—what am I even doing? What are we doing? There’s nothing to change. There’s no way to change anything.

HTGY: … You could get me a cat.

CUB-135: I can’t! I can barely get around the access readers! I can’t even get into the project files! Ten years of research and I feel dumb, Scar, I could solve everything until I couldn’t. What would you do if you weren’t in here? Man, that’s such a stupid question. I don’t even know what I’d do if I wasn’t in here. My references are gonna be shot. Maybe I should have paid attention to something else, maybe I should have done anything else—

HTGY: I’d like to see some forests.

CUB-135: Huh?

HTGY: You said ‘what would I do’. I’d go and see some forests.

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Forests, huh.

HTGY: Anyway, that’s not going to happen, so I guess we don’t want to waste time on it! They need you here. And you guys need me here. Right?

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Right, Cub-one-three-five?

CUB-135: Y’know something, Scar? Sometimes I think you do more thinking more than you let on.

HTGY: Huh? Naw. Why’s your badge gone red?

CUB-135: Oh shit. Shit. I gotta go.

+

[message log start]

cub-135: listen boss

cub-135: first you bump me off the HTGY project, and now i’ve just had my name taken off the ravager patent. that’s my own work.

cub-135: this keeps happening. it’s not okay.

Lead (bioprojects) : CUB-135, for the last time, this was what you signed up for.  It’s the same for all researchers. You have to put the time in while you move up the ladder.

Lead (bioprojects): Have you just noticed this is how the whole laboratory works?

cub-135: oh

cub-135: i’m noticing

cub-135: i’m noticing lots of things about this place

Lead (bioprojects): Good. If you have an issue, focus on your work and get promoted.

cub-135: yeah, see, actually

cub-135: if nothing changes, i’m going to leave. and i’ll take all my intellectual property with me.

Lead (bioprojects): Hah! Check your employment papers; you’re on a 10-year contract. It’s watertight. And even if you could get out of it, you’re banned from taking paper or data chips out of lab grounds.

cub-135: yeah?

cub-135: okay.

[cub-135 has disconnected]

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. Scar. Scar.

HTGY: Cub! What’s with the doohickey? It—oh, wow. That just zapped the light. Amazing.

CUB-135: Mumbo, lock transcript.

[null]: Transcript locked.

CUB-135: Okay. So. I made this thing to hijack the redstone gate down by the Drowned spawners on Lab 3B. It screws up the signal so you can get through. There’s a reservoir behind it. I put in a bubble elevator that will take you up outside the walls. I’ve got to stay behind to take out the cameras while you do it. Then I’ll get out with the evening shift.

HTGY: Wait, so I just take this and run? What if they find out about you?

CUB-135: If you do that I’m screwed, man. So don’t tell them.

HTGY: Yeah?

CUB-135: …Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You could turn me in.

[silence]

CUB-135: Maybe you should. Yeah, all right. I guess, just—oh.

HTGY: Relax! Anyone would think you’d never had a hug.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: My friend. My friend, we are going to see some forests.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: The speed! The precision!

CUB-135: Whew. Man. You did nearly drown.

HTGY: What’s important here is that I didn’t, because I am an elite escape artist. And you got out too, so I guess we can share the title.

CUB-135: We’re not far enough to say that yet. I’d bet we’re still in range of the lab systems.

HTGY: Details, details.

CUB-135: You’re bleeding.

HTGY: Oh man, I know, that was from the last test. It doesn’t matter.

CUB-135: Give me that.

HTGY: Fussy! What are you, a grandpa? Ow.

CUB-135: If you don’t stop and let me fix it you’re going to lose that finger. And I can’t grow it again when we don’t have the redstone vats.

HTGY: You were never this fussy before.

CUB-135: Yeah, well. Who even did it?

HTGY: I don’t…

[silence]

HTGY: Huh. Cub, you know what, I don’t…remember.

HTGY: Hey, though. Who everything filed and stored like a nerd? Who needs all their memories where we’re going? We’re getting out! Onwards!

[silence]

HTGY: Cub. Cub.

HTGY: Don’t look like that.

HTGY: It wasn’t your fault.

[silence]

CUB-135: Scar, I dunno what I’m doing.

HTGY: I’ve never known what I’m doing.

CUB-135: [laughs] You are…something, my friend. You are something.

HTGY: We don’t know what we're doing. And that’s amazing. Because aren’t you excited to find out?

+

Author's note: Hey, thanks for reading to the end! There's a better formatted version of this on Ao3 under username glossyblue. I've got a lot of this au but thought this stood alone well enough that someone might enjoy it. Hope you enjoyed, have a great day.

[tinyfantasminha]

Happy Birthday!

Voice Lines:

When summoned: Not to sound desperate, but hey did you got something for me? Just kidding!

Summon Line: Man, this outfit makes me feel fancy. Though I'm a bit worried that this white suit might get dirty.

Groooovy!!: Thanks for the birthday wishes. Ah, I've said ''thanks'' a lot today, didnt't I? Then... I'm glad you're here with me today.

Home: Does white suit me...?

Home Idle 1: On my 8th birthday, instead of a regular cake, my mom made an ice cream cake. I wish I could have that again this year...

Home Idle 2: I don't know, but I'm suspicious that the gift Ruggie got for me is stolen. ...Or bought with Leona's money. If I'm going to return it? No way~ It's mine now, khihi.

Home Idle 3: The headmaster said I'm free of my duties for the day of my birthday since he is ''so gracious''... But that was yesterday. I didn't had the guts to tell him that he got the date wrong. That old man is hopeless...

Home Idle - Login: My schedule is cramped today, but if you want to, we can go out to the town tomorrow. You can buy me my birthday present there if you haven't already, hehe. I'll treat you in a cafe in turn.

Home Idle - Groovy: Since my birthday is on the same day as Cater's, him and Riddle insist that my party should be hosted in Heartslabyul as well. Heartslabyul is certainly more adequade for these kinds of events than Ramshackle. Plus I get to eat delicious treats so I'm not complaining!

Home Tap 1: Kalim excitely congratulated me and gave me lots of expensive presents…! He also invited me for a feast in Scarabia. It's not that I don't want to, but how do I politely tell him that if I eat any more my stomach will explode?

Home Tap 2: Hey, if Azul asks you where I am, don't say a word. Jade told me he seemed excited earlier about the present he got for me but knowing him I'm sure he will demand some kind of repayment later! I just have to avoid him through the entire day!

Home Tap 3: Ehehe… Hmm, do I seem happy? It's just that Jack's gift- I mean that wasn't- No, shut up, it's not what you're thinking- Wipe that grin off your face right now!!

Home Tap 4: Oh my goodness. I totally wasn't expecting to be greeted by Vil in the hallway, he wished me a happy birthday and I blurted out ''thanks, you too''. I want to die right now…

Home Tap 5: Idia sent me a message today with an audio file attached. He said it was my ''official character song'' that he made it himself with a music software. Hey, that's a pretty creative gift don't you think? I wish he'd greet me personally though…

Home Tap - Groovy: Strawberries dipped in chocolate are my most beloved food...~ Huh, there's chocolate all over my face?! Ah, you don't need to get that- Uh, t-thanks. I kind of feel like a child all of a sudden...

Birthday Login Message: My birthday?… How did you- Ah, I see, Cater told you. It feels kinda embarrassing to be the center of attention, but it's certainly better than having your birthday be forgotten. Thank you.

Notes on the card:

The cat is supposed to be her pet cat back at home whom she loves very much.

The doorhole and key is supposed to represent escape rooms (her hobby).

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Patient Zero (m, colds)

I'm trying something a little different on this one - there's no sick character POV, but both Greyson and Elijah are sick. This is written from first Matt (the sous chef) and then Mark's (the floor manager) perspectives. It was a fun little exercise, and I hope you all like it.

Elijah & Greyson both have the flu and blame each other for it. No real plot, just quips and vibes. Enjoy :)

cw: male snz, colds, contagion, coughing, fevers, dizziness...snarkiness... the usual lmao. 3.5k words

Patient Zero

The early hours of the morning were the best the restaurant had to offer. It was summer, but at three in the morning it was cool, quiet, dark, and almost meditative to be in the restaurant alone. I could get used to this, Matt thought, setting his things down on the prep table in the empty kitchen.

Matt almost never worked the AM shift, but it was an event night and event nights always came with an unusual schedule. This particular event was a small business celebrating ten years open, and the two women in charge of the event were lovely but… particular.

Everything had to be just so – which was fine, because they were paying through the nose to buy out the restaurant for the night – and many of their requests were ones that Greyson and Elijah had never heard before.

“They want us to… make their dinner rolls?” Matt had asked when Greyson had showed him the banquet event order he and Elijah had put together. “But we buy the best bread in the city… I mean, isn’t Alicia going to get mad that she’s losing our business for that event?”

“Elijah already talked to Alicia about it; she’s annoyed, but she gets it. These people want everything made in house, and trust me I told them that Alicia makes better bread than I’d ever be able to, but they didn’t care. They’re fuckin’ weird, Matt,” Greyson said, smoothing the piece of paper onto the prep table. “They want us to make them a cake, too. You did a stage at that bakery in Italy a couple summers ago, right?”

That was how Matt had ended up at the restaurant at oh-dark-thirty, using their decrepit Kitchenaid mixer to make some maybe-okay bread and a probably-not-great cake for a group that had no clue what the difference between a pastry chef and a regular one was. At least he’d be able to enjoy the evening off; it was a Saturday, it was summer, and he could already taste the cocktail he’d be sipping while the rest of the team was slaving away.

About three hours into mixing, proofing, and looking up recipes on his phone, Matt heard the back door of the kitchen slam open and then shut. He whipped his head towards the sound – Greyson wasn’t supposed to be in until nine, at the earliest. Who the fuck was here?

“HTSHH-ue! Huh! Hhh… huhITSZHUE!” Matt heard Elijah before he saw him, and winced when he did. Elijah had definitely seemed a little off yesterday, but the rest of the team figured that he was just nervous about this event and how picky the people paying for it were. Matt, at the very least, hadn’t assumed he was -

“HUHHHESTCHUE!” - sick.

“Bless you, Elijah,” Matt called from the prep kitchen. Elijah jumped at the phantom voice and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. He turned the corner to find Matt, covered in flour and frosting, and laughed.

“Thangks,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “You doing okay with the whole… bread thing?”

Matt shrugged and motioned to the recipe on his phone. “I mean, if this bread recipe is good enough for The Barefoot Contessa, it should be good enough for these people, right?”

Elijah smiled, amused. “Right,” he said, turning to cough away from the prep kitchen entrance. Matt gave him a sympathetic look, and Elijah shrugged.

“You’re here early,” Matt said, scoring the tops of his rolls and covering the baking sheets in plastic for proofing. Elijah gave him a small smile.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, sniffling. “Worried about this party tondight, I guess.”

“Mmm,” Matt hummed, noncommittal. Elijah and his boss were two sides of the same stubborn-ass coin, and there was no use reasoning with or forcing confessions of illness out of either of them. The only people they listened to were each other; their relationship was weird, it was codependent, but it worked so Matt didn’t question it. He hoped Greyson would be in soon.

“I’mb going to go work on the mbenus for tondight,” Elijah said, swallowing back a cough. “Holler if you ndeed mbe.”

Matt knew he wouldn’t need Elijah, but he nodded anyway. “Right back at ya.”

***

The sun had finally made its way to the middle of the sky when Greyson burst through the doors of the kitchen, his signature bull-in-a-china-shop style.

“Christ it’s hot out there,” Greyson moaned as he walked into the prep kitchen. Matt had finally finished the three-tiered cake and was working on making fondant letters to adorn the top. He looked up from his work to see his boss perusing the trays of rolls and cake tiers cooling in the prep kitchen’s reach-in refrigerator.

Greyson was looking especially disheveled this morning; he’d let his hair grow all the way to his shoulders this year – everyone on the stupid dating apps loves long hair, is what he’d said to Matt when he mentioned his boss had needed a haircut back in February – and it was pulled back into a messy ponytail today. He was in a cutoff t-shirt and cutoff shorts, flip-flops, and, frankly, looked more ready for a lazy day at the beach than the huge party he’d have to put out in a few hours.

“It’s August,” Matt said in response to Greyson’s gripe. “That’s, like, peak hot. Why are you wearing that?”

His boss turned to face Matt, gave himself a once over, and huffed out a little laugh. “Couldn’t sleep last night, so I ended up walking to a club. Went home with some girl and crashed at her place, passed out, didn’t have time to go back home, so you get flip-flop Greyson. I have a spare set of clothes in the office.”

Matt rolled his eyes, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Elijah earlier; two sides of the same coin.

“You all good on the bread, Master Baker?” Greyson asked, grinning at his own joke. Matt gave a little laugh through his nose.

“All good,” he said. “I just need help with the fucking frosting for this cake, I can’t seem to get it -”

“IGTSHZZ-ue!”

Matt’s head snapped up suddenly; his boss’s face was pressed into his elbow. The sous felt his heart sink. Not both of them.

A sick Elijah was fine. A sick Greyson was slightly more annoying, but also tolerable. But when both of them were sick, it was, to put it lightly, a nightmare.

“Shit, ‘scuse me, sorry, can’t stop fucking sneezing today,” Greyson said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

“Bless you,” Matt said, accusatory. “are you feeling okay?”

Greyson started to nod, then held up a finger as if to say, ‘hold on’. Matt waited a moment while his boss stood, waiting for another sneeze that didn’t seem to want to come. He let out a shaky breath and shook his head as if to clear it. “I’mb good,” he said, congestion already seeping into his voice. Matt had a sudden memory pop into his head – Greyson offering Elijah a bite of a short rib dish yesterday, then taking a bite himself from the same fork. Goddamn it, Greyson.

“Are you -”

“ITSZH-ue! HTSHH-uh! Fuckin – HGTSHH-ue!” Greyson suddenly collapsed into a volley of sneezes, covered only by a hand. He grimaced at the obvious mess he’d left behind and went to the sink to blow his nose and clean himself up.

“Fuck, Chef,” Matt said while Greyson washed his hands. While, like Elijah, there was no use trying to force a confession out of Greyson, Matt was much closer to the executive chef and couldn’t help accusing him. “Are you serious? This is so not the day for you to be fucking sick.”

“Oh, relax,” Greyson said, rolling his eyes. “I’mb ndot sick, it mbust be allergies or somethiii….INGTSHH-uhh! Fuck mbe,” Greyson moaned, pulling more paper towels out of the dispenser and blowing again.

“It’s not allergies,” Matt said. Greyson raised an eyebrow at his sous.

“Yeah? How do you know that, all-seeing eye?”

As if summoned, Elijah turned the corner into the prep kitchen at that moment. “Grey, good, you’re here,” he said, attempting to clear his throat. “Cand we go over verbiage for the mbenu tondight?”

Greyson pursed his lips and closed his eyes on seeing the GM. Matt’s eyes darted from Elijah to Greyson and back again, wondering how this was going to play out.

“What?” Elijah asked, sniffling.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” Greyson said, giving Elijah a little playful shove. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were fuckin’ sick?”

“I’mb ndot sigck,” Elijah said, pathetically. Matt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing; Elijah’s eyes were rimmed red, his nose was chapped from blowing, and since he’d walked through the door he hadn’t gone more than five minutes without sneezing. If you looked up ‘sick’ in the dictionary, there he’d be.

Greyson had no such tact and barked out a laugh in his boss’s face. “Yeah?” he asked, slapping a hand on Elijah’s forehead. The GM shook him off, but the damage was done. “You’re burning up,” Greyson said, his voice accusatory. Elijah flipped him the bird.

“I’mb ndot burning up, it’s just hot in the office,” Elijah said, taking a step back and crossing his arms. “Also, why the fuck are you dressed like you’re in a ndineties beach dramba?”

“I’m about to go change, but nice attempt at changing the subject,” Greyson said, leaning against the wall. “Seriously, have you taken anything?”

Elijah rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Just drop it,” Elijah said, his voice deadpan. “Why are you being such a dick about it, andyway? It’s ndot like -”

“HGTSH! HTSH! Huh… hh…”

“Oh, mbother fuck -”

“HUHESSTZCHUE!” Greyson doubled over to sneeze into his elbow, cutting his boss off not once, but twice. He gave Elijah a knowing glance over the crook of his arm and sniffled.

Elijah sighed, a congested, tired sound. “I… bless you,” he said.

“Thangks,” Greyson said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “Patient zero.”

“Fuck off,” Elijah said, shoving the chef. “Cand you please combe help mbe with these stupid mbenus?”

Greyson nodded, then turned back to Matt. “You said you’re all good, yeah?” he asked. Matt hadn’t; he needed help with the frosting, and wanted to make sure Greyson was okay with the way the rolls were proofing. But he nodded anyway; no use trying to separate the two of them while they were mid-squabble.

“I’m good,” Matt said. “I’ll come get you in a bit.”

Greyson nodded, then followed behind Elijah, muttering something about a plague rat. Matt could hear the slap Elijah bestowed upon him from across the kitchen.

***

Mark hated these types of events.

When he was younger, Mark had been a banquet captain for a hotel; a job he’d rather forget on most days. The nights were long, the people were always entirely too drunk, and although the pay was good, he dreaded every single shift.

Elijah had decided when the year began that Elliot’s had a goal of doing one full buyout banquet a month, a decision that made Mark’s heart sink, though he’d never let that on to his boss. Instead, he’d told Elijah all about his past banquet experience, showed the GM how to make a proper BEO, and volunteered to captain the events that his boss booked. He hated banquets, but he did love this tiny restaurant; he loved his staff and he loved his bosses and he wanted to make working there enjoyable for everyone.

Putting on a good face didn’t mean he hated it any less.

Mark yanked open the kitchen doors at noon the day of the event – an event he knew from the very moment of its booking was going to be a nightmare – and tried to get his game face on. He was going to be there until two in the morning, he was going to get his ass handed to him by some overinflated MLM Boss Babe, he was going to have to move the tables a hundred times… Mark shook his head to clear it. Becoming hyper-focused on how much this evening was going to suck wasn’t doing him any favors, that much he knew.

“Hey, Mark,” Matt said from the prep kitchen to his left. Mark stopped in his tracks and waved at the sous chef.

“Hi, Matt,” he said, smiling. “I thought you were supposed to be out of here by now? Didn’t you come in at like four in the morning?”

“Three,” Matt corrected, pulling a hand down his face in obvious exhaustion. “I’m trying to get out of here, but…” he trailed off, looking behind Mark in anticipation. Mark furrowed his brow and turned – nothing there.

“But…?” he prompted. Matt sighed.

“Greyson’s… on one,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I can’t for the fuckin’ life of me get him to come back here.”

Mark chuckled. “When isn’t he on one?” he asked. Matt let loose a dark laugh as well. “What’s his problem?”

“HHUTSZHH-ue!”

Mark cocked his head towards the sound that came from the office in the front of the kitchen. Then, slowly, he turned back to Matt. “He’s not…”

“Both of them,” Matt answered, resting his head in his hand, an elbow propped on the prep table. “I thought maybe it wasn’t so bad when they came in this morning, but…”

“HGTSHH-uhh! Huh -”

“HTZSCHUE!”

First Elijah. Then Greyson. Rinse, repeat.

“Goddamn it,” Mark muttered. “Okay. I’ll go do damage control and send Greyson back here to check you out so you can go.”

Matt nodded. “Thanks, man,” he said, picking up a Sharpie and labeling a pan wrapped in plastic. Mark gave a nod back, and headed to the front of the kitchen.

Greyson and Elijah were both seated in the office, twin tissues held to their faces. Elijah was coughing like a man who’d just escaped a house fire, while Greyson seemed stuck in a sort of pre-sneeze torture. It would’ve been almost funny, if it weren’t so pathetic.

“Um,” Mark said, knocking on the open door and catching both his bosses off-guard. “Hey. Everything, uh… okay in here?”

Greyson let out a shaky, unresolved breath. “Yeah. All good. Hi,” he said, his voice low and stuffed-up. He hit Elijah in the arm, motioned up to Mark, and said, “Where are your mbanners?”

Elijah rolled his eyes and took a sip from a water cup of questionable age. “Hey, Mbark,” he said. The GM’s voice was nearly gone, and sounded raw, like his throat was on fire.

“You guys look great,” Mark joked, prompting a bark of a laugh from Greyson and a dead-eyed look from Elijah. “How the hell did you both manage to get sick overnight?”

“Well, sombeone was getti’g sick yesterday and didn’t tell mbe,” Greyson said, flashing a pointed look Elijah’s way. Elijah turned to the chef and placed his head in his hand; apparently, Mark was no longer invited to this conversation.

“You kndow what I was thinking,” Elijah said, his voice going out on the final syllable. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I was thinking, how do you kndow it was mbe who got you sick? Mbaybe you’re just projecting because you’re patient zero.”

“Elijah, I kndow you have a fever but let’s try to rembain in reality, shall we? You’re obviously patient zero because I was finde last ndight. You, on the other hand, were texti’g mbe ‘oh, mby allergies are so bad, I don’t know what’s bloomi’g but it -’ IGTSZZHUE! ETSHCHUE! Oh, fuckigg finally,” Greyson groaned, yanking more tissues from the box placed squarely between the two of them and blowing. Elijah coughed out a laugh.

“You were sayi’g?” he asked, smug. Greyson rolled his eyes from behind a tissue.

“Fugck off,” he said, turning back toward Mark, who assumed he’d been forgotten completely. “Did you ndeed sombething, Mbark?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “Matt said he needed to check out with you, Chef?”

“Oh, fugck I totally forgot Mbatt got here in the mbiddle of the ndight,” Greyson said, pushing himself to his feet too quickly. He caught hold of the desk, swaying slightly, and closed his eyes.

Elijah raised his eyebrows at Greyson, who got himself back together after a moment. “You gonnda mbake it?” he asked as the chef slowly opened his eyes. Greyson sneered.

“Screw you, Elijah, this shit is your fault,” he said, pushing his hair off of his sweaty forehead.

Elijah looked to Mark. “Cand you please tell me what kind of fever he’s sporting?” he asked. Mark set his jaw; he really didn’t want to get in the middle of this whole thing… but Elijah was his direct report. He didn’t have much choice; without warning the chef first, Mark placed a hand on Greyson’s forehead.

Greyson pulled away as quick as he could. “Back off,” he snarled, pushing past Mark to relieve Matt in the back kitchen. Mark shrank back as the chef breezed by; he really could be scary when he wanted to be.

“Sorry,” Elijah said when Greyson was out of earshot. “He shouldn’t be such an ass to you.”

Mark shrugged. “I get it. It sucks working when you don’t feel well. He definitely has a fever,” the floor manager said. Elijah nodded and Mark gave him a pointed look. “You look like you do, too.”

Elijah gave a little half-shrug back. “Ndothing I haven’t worked through before,” he said. “Huhh...HGTSHH-ue! Huh! ETSHZHUE!” The GM wrenched away from Mark to sneeze painfully towards the door. Mark flinched in sympathy.

“Bless,” he said. “So… how are we going to handle tonight?”

Elijah turned sluggishly back towards Mark and sniffled, an unproductive, squelching sound. “You tell mbe,” he said, his voice all but gone, “captaind.”

Fuck.

***

“You do it.”

“No fuckin’ way. This is on you, dude. I’m one foot out the door.”

“Matt, you’ve been saying that since two PM and now it’s ten. Clearly you’re not one foot out the door.”

Matt shot Mark a look, but he couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. But how the fuck could he have left earlier? When Greyson had come to the back kitchen to dismiss him hours before, the chef had nearly passed out just from the walk. He never would’ve said that he needed Matt to stay; he wasn’t that kind of guy. He was the guy who worked until he literally passed out without even asking for a hand to grab before he fell. Both he and Elijah were.

So, without being asked, Matt stayed for the event. He prepped with the line cooks, while Mark helped the servers prepare the dining room, and both of them attempted to corral their bosses into resting in the office.

“Are you sure you don’t ndeed mbe to at least sear off the short ribs?” Greyson had asked, white-knuckling the prep table that Matt was working at. “Seriously, Mbatt, you don’t have to do everythigg.”

“I don’t need you to sear the short ribs,” Matt said, gently guiding his boss back to a chair. “Please. Just sit down, it hurts me to watch you… breathe.”

“Mbark, at least let mbe fold ndapkins for your or something,” Elijah had insisted, swaying in the middle of the dining room. Mark had to nearly run to keep his boss from face-planting at the host stand.

“Lij, we have an army on,” Mark said. “Go rest, please. We’ll need you for service.”

The two ill men had eventually given up on asking to help their counterparts. The staff, a truly well-oiled machine, had worked around them, narrowly avoiding being coughed or sneezed on, until the event started.

Once the hosts of the event arrived, Greyson and Elijah pulled themselves together enough to at least look like figureheads. Greyson hoarsely shouted orders in the kitchen, while Elijah helped the servers organize their tables and schmoozed the hosts. Against all odds, it had gone smoothly, and once the food was out both Elijah and Greyson stumbled back into the office, sunk down into the waiting tablecloth nest, and passed out.

Which led them to now.

“I don’t want to wake them, dude,” Matt said. “They’re so mean when they’re sick.”

“Well obviously I don’t want to wake them, either,” Mark countered. “But one of us has to do it, the hosts aren’t going to leave till they can say goodb -”

“HGTSHH!” Greyson woke himself with a massive sneeze, which shook Elijah awake.

“Fuck, mbust you be so goddamn loud?” Elijah asked, his voice cracking. Greyson flashed him an annoyed look.

“Oh, mby sincere apologies, ndext time I have an uncontrollable bodily functiond occur I’ll mbake sure to think about your combfort beforehand,” he said, pushing his hair into a small bun on the back of his head.

“Mbuch appreciated,” Elijah said, slowly sitting up. The two of them turned, almost simultaneously, to the younger men standing at the door. “...yes?” Elijah asked.

Matt elbowed Mark, who gave him a fleeting dirty look. “Um,” Mark said, “the, uh, hosts wanted to say goodbye to you guys if you’re… up for it.”

Elijah nodded, but Greyson was the first to push himself to a standing position. “Just stay there, old mban, you’re sicker than mbe and obviously worse at keeping your germbs to yourself.” Greyson pushed past Mark and Matt, placing a hand on his sous chef’s shoulder before exiting the kitchen.

“Thangk you for stayi’g,” he said. “Ndow go hombe before I kick you out.”

Matt smiled a bit. “Yes, Chef,” he said. “Um… feel better.”

Greyson nodded and disappeared through the doors to the dining room. When Mark turned away from the swinging doors, Elijah was also standing.

“You go, too, Mbark,” he said, straightening his glasses and smoothing his sleep-wrinkled shirt as best he could. “We ndeed both of you well rested for the rest of the week. Great job tondi- IGTSZH-uhh! Snrf.” Elijah didn’t bother finishing his sentence, just smiled at Mark and rubbed his chapped nose.

“Bless,” Mark said, “and thank you. It did go well, didn’t it?”

“Well as it could’ve,” Elijah said, one hand on the swinging door. “Ndight,” he said, and followed behind Greyson.

Matt and Mark exchanged a knowing look when both their bosses exited the kitchen.

“We totally ran a restaurant today,” Matt said, a smile creeping onto his lips. Mark laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, “we kind of did, didn’t we?”

The moment of elation sat between them like a birthday balloon, bright and taut enough to pop, until they heard a massive, “HGTSHHZUE!” from the dining room, followed by coughing, followed by motherly-sounding tutting from the hosts of the event.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mark said, and Matt nodded.

“Before they change their minds,” he said.

The two of them rushed out the back of the kitchen into the late-summer-evening heat. “Hey,” Mark said, before they went their separate ways. “I know you’ve had a long day, but would you like to go get a drink with me?”

Matt smiled, and turned toward the other man. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I definitely would.”

[nanidoesthings]

Thaw With Me

A Prince Hans x OC Fanfic

Chapter 1 2 - The Morning Paper

Linnea was not the Duke’s firstborn- oh no- that achievement went to her darling brother Erik. Nor was she the second, or the third. Not even the sixth. Yet with how she behaved one would assume she was meant to be the next Duchess of Weselton. She presented herself as a competitive, poised, business minded woman with a stride in her step that demanded power.

It had been at the breakfast table when she had heard the news. Linnea had bustled into the dining hall, her tone changed the moment she walked in. Two of her brothers- the twins Niklaus and Johann- had been whispering amongst themselves. The elder of the two giving Linnea a look she could only tell meant trouble.

She also ended up more often than not being the one to clean up after the family mistakes.

“What did you do?” The red headed woman crossed her arms, her brow arching. She carried the tone of an annoyed parent who had just caught their child in the act. Johann- the younger twin- raised his arms to the air, shaking his head with ferocity. Linnea then tilted her head and looked at Niklaus.

“Don’t look at us! Honestly,” Niklaus’s tone grew defensive, tossing the paper that had been in his hand onto the table before his baby sister. Linnea scooped it up quickly. “Something weird happened over in Arendelle. Apparently the fjord got frozen. No one could get in or out!”

Linnea took her seat at the table, fixated on the printed text. With the paper in one hand she supported her chin with the other.

“That explains why they haven't been back. They would have arrived days ago,” she puts the paper down. Arendelle had been only a 3 day trip from Weselton and the Duke had already confided in his children he would stay there an extra day to consult the queen on old and new business. Linnea’s brain started whirring. Arrangements needed to be made, events rescheduled or reassigned.

“I’m sure you’re already buzzing with ideas on how to fix things.” Johann snatched a piece of bacon from her plate. Linnea used to this behavior from him by now started to tap her cheek with her fingers, still looking pensive. Her brow was furrowed as she switched to the next page of the paper. An article on business catching her eye.

“Believe it or not, she can’t fix the weather. She’s not a witch.” Niklaus teased, procuring a wicked cackle.

“No, clearly that’s the new queen of Arendelle. Suddenly those rumors that she had been born green make sense.” Linnea spoke with a deadpan. She had heard rumors of Arendelle’s royal family, especially after the incident a few years back involving Queen Idunna and King Agnarr. Their cryptic ways of business had always interested her and father had insisted he would get down to the brunt of just why.

“There can be two witches. Arendelle is to the east of us.” Johann reached for Linnea’s breakfast again. The woman who had kept her eyes on the paper grabbed his hand mid action. “That would make you the Wicked Witch of the West.” He winces, feeling his sister grip a little tighter. “Okay. Okay. I fold.” Linnea released him, and in turn reached for the food he attempted to steal.

“Like I was saying,” there was an annoyance in her voice, “I cannot control the weather. How in the Hel did she freeze the Fjord anyways? It’s not like she’s some fairytale character. M-Magic like this isn’t real!” Linnea flipped back to the report on the coronation and read it again. going to heavily affect our engagement schedule until they’re home. Dad was supposed to handle the-.”

“Yes, yes. He was going to have been home yesterday, spend the day catching up, then today be dealing with the business involving the Jensen alliance. We know Lin.” Johann interrupted. “Since Dad isn’t here I’m sure Oslo can handle it.”

“What is it I’m handling?” Speak of the devil. Oslo had been the third eldest son and didn’t take his position as seriously as some thought he should have. The short man pulled back his regular seat and slumped into it.

“The Malstrüm-Jensen alliance. Between Weselton and Barovia.” Linnea repeated, watching her brother throw his feet up on the table.

“Oh yeah. Don’t worry. Took care of it,” Oslo grabbed a strawberry from the table and dipped it into a bowl of cream. “The Marquess was fairly easy to convince. If you get what I mean.” He had a teasing tone to him as he started eating.

“What?” Linnea turned her head quickly towards Oslo. Watching how he suckled the cream off the strawberry a look of realization hit her. “Oh my god. You did not.”

“Oh I did. 3 times.” He held out 3 fingers. “We’ll sign the paperwork and finalize it this afternoon.”

“Well, Well, Well, look at you,” Johann laughed, high-fiving Oslo.

“What can I say, I love to entertain.” Linnea groaned, folded the paper and rolled her eyes at her brother’s notcomments.

“I suppose that’s one way to get things done. But until any of them are back, Oslo is regrettably the stand in.” Annoyance dripped from her voice as she stood from her chair.

“And yet you’re the one giving the orders,” Niklaus returned her glare. His tone changed as he watched his sister roll up the paper and raise it above her head, preparing a good smack. “Linny. Lin. Linnea Agneta Malstrüm don’t you da- ow!” At this point he was getting smacked over multiple times with the paper. He laughed a little as he rose his hands in defense.

“Yes. Because dad let anyone he had past Erik and Francis just live off the family money. You think you can sleep your way through any problem,” Linnea pointed the rolled up paper at Oslo, “and you two act like children,” she pointed at the twins.

“Honestly, would it kill you to turn off your brain for a moment?” Johann used two fingers to push the newspaper away from his face. “You’re always so wrapped up in everything. Acting like if you put all this effort in dad’s going to put you above us in the hierarchy. Oslo may not have done something how you would but he settled our problem with Barovia! Without having to take orders from you for once.”

Linnea sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Would she admit that Johann made a good point? No. Instead she tucked the paper under her arm and stood from her seat.

“Fine. Fine. If that’s what you insist,” she grumbled, walking out of the room. “I’ll leave you to it.”

It was a few seconds later when a shout could be heard from the hallway.

“AND WHERE THE HELL IS ALEXANDER?”

[bugbyte]

1062 Days

I had a pretty terrible doctor’s appointment yesterday and have been kind of cycling through a million feelings about it like some kind of unhinged unicycle. (No, I cannot ride a unicycle.) Anyway, if you missed yesterday’s panic posting, the pain people kind of went “oh well” and shoved me off to the MMJ people, which is fine, except costly and not covered by insurance and I am broke. I did receive a Ko-Fi donation that should theoretically cover a chunk of whatever the appointment costs and the amount of relief I am feeling right now is enormous, so thank you, anon donor. One way or another I’m going to figure this out, which is far more hope than I had when I started today. I woke up, wide awake, at 6 am this morning, having a panic attack because I felt like I’d just been condemned to a life of never being able to do or experience anything ever again, but now I feel like there’s a chance.

We’ve been driving back and forth to a city about an hour away to deal with all of this stuff because there seem to be a lot more specialists there (it’s through a university hospital, which has been a really good experience primarily, except for the pain people? wtf) and an hour isn’t that bad in the scheme of things. Anyway, it gives me way too much time to think, and after yesterday I started counting days since all of this started going downhill for me (thank you Siri for doing the math) and yesterday it was 1061 days. Today it’s 1062. I’m just flabbergasted that it’s been that many days and I’m just supposed to go home and make dinner and pretend everything is fine. This is how my brain works: I want to put data to things, I want to turn that into a visualization because I feel like no one ever understands the words coming out of my mouth. I’m thinking about making some kind of animated visualization of how much time that is, how much loss it is over time, because that’s how I process I guess. Or maybe some kind of video essay about it. I don’t think people who aren’t directly experiencing (or living with/caring for/close friends with) chronic pain really understand what a grieving process it is. I feel like I have no sense of time anymore, because all the days are pain.

Anyway.

Doing a read more here for some slightly unpleasant-er medical stuff, so please check the tags if you think it may bother you to read.

This week is a gauntlet of multiple things because it’s just how it fell. If you are lucky enough (and I hope you are) that you aren’t dealing with medical stuff on a regular basis, you might not know how overtaxed everyone is now and how ridiculously hard it is to get an appointment anywhere, for anything. A while ago we made a rule around here to not schedule back to back appointment days because it’s really physically demanding for me, but when you have no choice but to schedule things months out…sometimes you don’t get a choice, and it’s awful. I’m paying for it today after two days of this, in stress and physical testing and sitting in a car for long stretches. Anyway, that sucks.

But at least today was a much more positive experience than yesterday, in a number of ways. Somehow in this entire year of tests and visits and drugs and whatever, this is somehow the very first time I’m actually seeing a neurologist, which was pretty interesting and revealing. In this whole time no one has noticed how flimsy my ankles are, and somehow I never think to talk about it because I just basically walk on eggshells all the time trying not to injure myself by…walking. But today it got noticed, and maybe that’s something I can press someone to do something about. Before my health turned into a flaming car wreck I used to run marathons and I do not know how I did this. I feel like I got away with something I shouldn’t have.

So one of the most interesting bits of today, which relates to some past stuff I’ve written about and haven’t talked about more because it’s all kinda in flux still, is even more genetic testing. The first one was a whole panel looking for connective tissue disorders (spoiler alert: they found something weird, it’s just not what anyone expected, and I get to talk to somebody and find out more next year lol) and now we’re checking out a different but more specific gene for a type of muscular dystrophy, which might also explain some of the issues I have. Essentially: I’m a huge mess and my body is crumbling and it would probably be prudent to start weeding out which problems are caused by which weirdness. Exciting! I got to talk it out with a genetic counselor (again) and a student, which was cool, because I like being able to contribute some of my weird physiology to their knowledge so hopefully they can help somebody else like me in the future. I got to opt-in to putting my genes up for (anonymized) research, which I was also pretty excited about because I’ve got the weird in me and hopefully it can help somebody. I like chatting with folks like this, I am enthusiastic about research and improving treatments and it’s nice to feel like I’m contributing something from this whole mess. Genetics as a whole is really interesting to me, I’ve been reading a ton on it since my first outing getting tested and there’s so much possibility for improving peoples’ lives if we just knew a little bit more. In another life, where I’m not squeamish about blood and am good at math, I like to think I’d have gotten into genetics. I have feelings about it.

The cool part of this is they were able to do the testing right on the spot this time. I still have to wait a while on results, but I didn’t have to go through any approvals or waiting for test kits or anything. No, instead I just got stabbed several times for blood. I used to be petrified of needles and I still feel pretty bleh about it but I guess that’s the equivalent of exposure therapy or something. The poor nurse today was not a good needler but she was really nice and tried really hard so I can’t be upset about it. I did get stuck in the dang hand, though, which is my absolute least favorite place to get stabbed. Ugh. Weirdly, my opposite hand is also aching like ME TOO and I’m like NO, NOT “YOU TOO” but here we are. At the beginning of the year I started keeping a needle count for myself because somehow it helps mentally to know how many times I’ve done this, and so as of today it’s 22 for the year but it’s probably going to be more before 2024. Getting over it has made me start thinking about getting a tattoo someday, though. I know it’s a different process and sensation probably, but it was always the stabby bit that put me off in the past. I want to get my cat’s paw prints done on my leg, in the spot where he used to put his feet when he sat with me while I was having a bad pain day. One day I’ll get there.

Anyway, I feel like I learned a lot today and got to sign off on contributing a little of myself to science, which is a good feeling. And it was really nice to deal with people who were actually compassionate as well as excited about their work. Makes up a little bit for the bad day I had yesterday.

Gauntlet week continues. Hope you’re all well out there. Working on being a little more well in here, too.

[ramen8baka]

Eren Yeager x reader :D

summary: eren meets a interesting girl while working at his uncle’s corner store over winter break

tw/notes: no tw; modern day au, you guys are in 11th grade

Eren pov

I look around at all the candy bars in the counter. damn, the dude really has a lot of candy. I was at my uncle’s corner store and it was winter break for me. My parents said it’d be good for me to get out of the house for once so they sent me here. I guess i’ve made some cool friends though. I don’t mind working here except the fact that on the weekends I take the late shift. So here I was at 1 o’clock am. Just as I was about to close since we hadn’t had customers in the past hour, the bell chimed. in walked a girl who seemed to be a regular customer considering she walked immediately to the fridges in the back and looked like she knew where everything was. I couldn’t see her face yet until she came to the front counter to check out. and man, she was pretty. really pretty.

“hello!” She chimed cheerfully

“hey, is this all?” I gesture to the star berry slushie and bag of takis. “yup. But hey, I haven’t seen you around here before. You just got hired or sum?” She tilts her head

“Well I guess you could say that,” I laugh “this is my uncles shop. I’m sure you know him though. But my parents sent me here for over winter break. my name’s eren by the way” I explain as i scan her stuff. “oh cool. I’m y/n! Anyways I should get going. See ya tomorrow” she does the three finger wave thing and heads off. “Yeah… cool” i say as I smile to myself, knowing she already left. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was the next night, or should I say morning. I was waiting for y/n to come in again. I figured she might get the same thing again considering she’s a regular customer. I hear the bell chime and look up to see the same pretty face that I saw last night. “hey eren,” she says as she walks by the desk.

“damn, why do you come in here so late?” I ask

“my sleep schedule is messed up already” she laughs. She goes the fridges in the back and returns about five minutes later with another slushie and you guessed it- a bag of Takis. “how was your day?” I try to make conversation.

“eh, could’ve been better” she shrugs.

“mine too. It’s goin good now that you’re here though” I smirk. y/n just rolls her eyes.

“Come on, dude! I just met you yesterday and you’re already flirting”

“isn’t that how it works?” I hand her her things.

“I guess, I usually don’t move that fast though. I barely know you and you barely know me” she says.

“alright, then how bout we exchange numbers and we could get to know each other better” i smile

“tch, fine” she gives a small pout. Cute, I think to myself. “give me your phone then” I freeze. Holy crap, did I actually just get this chick’s number? We exchange phone numbers to hopefully start ‘talking’ more. And that was that. She left and I sat there dizzy with singing birds on my shoulder. •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It was 2 weeks later and me and y/n had become surprisingly close. We hadn’t really hung out outside of my uncle’s shop. But when she came in tonight I already knew what she wanted. A medium watermelon slushie and takis. I had it all ready on the counter for her and as she passed the counter she spun back around with a confused expression. “what?” Is all she said.

“what?” “did you get all my stuff for me already?” She asks, shocked.

“well yeah you get t he same shit every night. Or should I say morning.” I smirk. She pays and we just chill for awhile and talk about random stuff. I keep zoning out on her features until I hear her telling my name. “eren!! I’m gonna go now, alright? But you should text me later so we could hang out” She yells

“oh, my fault i zoned out for a sec”

“clearly” she giggles. She waved as she exits the store. Oh man, I really like her

y/n pov: ding

my phone goes off, waking me up. I really gotta fix my sleep schedule, I think. It was a text from eren.

Eren🙀🙀

y/n!!

wake up bro 😂

why r u up so early

it’s literally 12:30 pm⁉️ good job telling time??

Omfg 🙄

anyways

anyways what

wanna hang out?

like we were saying the other night

oh sure! I’m free any time 🤷‍♀️

aight cool

I’ll send u the addy rq

You hearted eren😍🫣’s message

I pulled up to a well kept looking house with beautiful plants and bushes in the front. damn, who’s keeping his landscape this nice? I rang the doorbell and a familiar tall, brunette boy stared at me. “you’re finally here!” He chuckled

“oh c’mon I didn’t take that long” I roll my eyes.

“well at least you’re here. I guess you need awhile to get all pretty anyways” I blush. “Are you calling me pretty?” I ask

“oh, sorry have I never told you that before?” He smirks. he leads me inside and upstairs to his room.

“wow it’s nice in here. Your room is cool” I look around at all this posters, led lights, furniture, etc.

“thanks. What do you wanna do?” He asks. “I dunno maybe watch a show or YouTube or sum?” I suggest as I lay on his bed. Eren laughs again. “Getting comfy already?”

“yup!”

“This movie is so boring” I yawn

“yeah..” eren days quietly. I look over at him.

eren pov:

“why are you looking at me like that?” She says. ‘because you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen before. You’re so funny and have a great sense of style. Even if I only met you a couple weeks ago, I know that I want to be with you.’ But I didn’t say that. Not exactly. I pulled her closer to me by her waist and kissed her, telling her all that with one motion. When I pull away she looks up at me

“eren..”

“sorry! I didn’t know what to say so.. I really like you. You make me laugh all the time and you’re just so gorgeous. I love everything you do” I confess

“I-Eren you’re crazy” she kisses me again

hey everyone 😃 how are y’all

This idea randomly popped into my head so I hipe y’all enjoyed it and it wasn’t too cringey 😵‍💫

[monaisme]

One Week Later- Chapter 14

This is the sequel to my one shot, “The Battle,” which can be found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30027636

As it’s been more than a while, you can also find the rest of this story here… if you’d like to refresh your memory:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30168360

Please enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen

It was going to be such a good day. Peter had been so sure. He was feeling better... like honestly better than the day before. His headache was gone, his ribs were good (enough, but no one really needed to know differently), the gash in his leg was on its way to gone and by the end of day, he’d managed to choke down a full, albeit normal sized meal for dinner for the ultimate win. Yes, his temperature had crept up barely a bit toward the end of the day but his regular super-meds had taken care of that super quick and he’d been so hopeful that he’d be able to leave the med bay—and try to figure out what his new normal was going to look like.

He’d been discharged literal minutes earlier and then, of course, Peter, by his mere existence, had jinxed it all. Parker Luck ruined everything.  

“It is regrettable, Mr. Stark, but until we can be certain that Mr. Parker’s fever has fully resolved, we must deny access to her room. And I do understand that this is upsetting, but my job as her primary physician is to make sure Mrs. Parker receives the best possible care and as such...“

Mr. Stark sighed in sudden resignation. “I know, I know. I get it. Thank you, Dr. Bonwick. We’ll leave you to it, but please...” His voice trailed off.

Dr. Bonwick seemed to understand. “As I have been doing thus far, I will keep you up to date on her condition should any changes arise.” The man smiled sympathetically over Mr. Stark’s shoulder to address Peter, who stood awkwardly behind him. “I will also confer with Dr. Cho so as to schedule any follow up appointments in a manner that will allow for visits as soon as a full 48 hours without fever has passed... with your permission, of course?” He looked to Mr. Stark for that confirmation. 

Nodding tersely, Mr. Stark grunted out his thanks and turned toward Peter. “Alright, kid, let’s get out of here,” and guided Peter back towards him room at the end of the hall.

Peter didn’t say anything as he shuffled along. What could he say?

Mr. Stark, however, had some thoughts to share.

“What a jerk.” Mr. Stark blurted out as soon as the door to the med bay room closed.

Peter turned his back to Mr. Stark as he blinked back tears. “Be nice, Mr. Stark. He’s just making sure she doesn’t get worse, is all. I get it.”

“Yah, yah. I get it, too,” Mr. Stark huffed in frustration, “but that doesn’t change what I said. He should have said something sooner. I mean, you’d been here all day yesterday, too, for cryin’ out loud. Waiting until you were heading down the hall to say hi was not okay.”

Peter sniffled, and rubbed at his tired eyes, “Yeah, well, the fever was last night though, and he doesn’t have to be nice. He just has to be the best, right? And you said he is, so if that means he’s a,” Peter searched for a word, “...turd, then so be it. It’s whatever Aunt May needs, right? And you’ve got enough tech kickin’ around to make sure we can still see each other, even if it’s not in person.”

Peter could feel Mr. Stark’s eyes on his back. “Of course we do! Geez, kid. What kind of a genius do you take me for? Oh, and by the way, way to be the bigger person. Darn it, were you always this mature?”

Peter couldn’t help the choked laugh as he slid back into their familiar banter, “Well, between you and me, one of us had to be.”

Mr. Stark chuckled as he came up behind Peter and patted him tenderly on the shoulder. “You won’t hear an argument out of me. Now,” Mr. Stark stepped back and surveyed the room. “Let’s grab your stuff and get you out of here, shall we?”

Mr. Stark must have noticed Peter’s subtle nod, as he gripped his shoulder one last time. “Fantastic. I’ll go check the bathroom really quick while you grab those books Pep brought down... Oh! And I think she brought down one of her fancy blankets from the penthouse. Could you do a quick check for that, too? I’d rather we not leave it behind.”

Peter nodded again and waited as Mr. Stark’s footsteps receded into the small bathroom attached to his med bay room, then blinked slow, and pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. “C’mon, Peter, pull it together. You can do this,” he muttered to himself. “Just get upstairs and you’ll be good... just get upstairs...”

Peter’s brief self-talk was immediately interrupted.

“Well, that took all of two seconds, bud. Congrats on not being disgusting. I’ve got your toothbrush and such ready to go.” Mr. Stark said as he stepped out of the private bathroom attached to Peter’s room, zipping up a travel bag. He’d obviously noticed that Peter hadn’t moved from his spot because he handed Peter the bag and manoeuvred around him. “Here, let me do a quick check before we go so no one has to run back down later. ‘kay?”

How could the man have so much energy after everything that had happened to him?

Peter had finally managed to convince Mr. Stark to sleep in his own bed last night (Did no one else noticed how exhausted Mr. Stark looked?) and so he hadn’t been privy to Peter’s marathon of nightmares, thank goodness for that small miracle. Besides, Peter and Mr. Stark had both figured that after a day filled with colouring books and board games with Morgan, plus an 80s movie marathon to entice Peter into taking much needed naps, that everyone would be ready for a good night’s rest so the next day could be fresh start for everyone—barring any other weird medical drama overnight.

Stupid fever.

That Peter had spent the eventual fever-free night thrashing about as he tried to fend off nightmare after nightmare of Thanos as the titan obliterated Queens and watched helplessly as Mr. Stark and Ben, and then May and Ben, and then Ben, and Ben, and forever Ben who was always reaching out for Peter, and always dying then disintegrating over and over and over again— well...

“Alrighty then, what do you think, Pete? Have we got everything before we head up to the penthouse?” Mr. Stark asked, arms full of faux fur and books and blissfully oblivious to Peter’s exhaustion as he scanned the med bay room one last time. “I almost couldn’t tell if you’d left anything behind or not with the mess you’d made of this bedding!”

Peter flushed with embarrassment. Mr. Stark didn’t need to know the real reason so Peter made a production of straightening the bedding, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Sorry. I think I was a little overheated last night, is all.” It seemed as good an excuse as any, until—

Mr. Stark took a good look at Peter, frowned, and dropped his pile of Peter stuff back on the bed. He came closer, pressing a gentle hand to Peter’s forehead. “Are you doing okay, Peter? You’re looking a little rough, now that I’m getting a good look at you but Lydie didn’t say anything more about a fever. And she wouldn’t have forgotten to mention it, would she? She’s generally on the ball with that sort of stuff. Huh. Maybe I should get her to—“

Peter stepped back and pushed the hand away. “No. Last night was fine. Can we just go? Please?” Was he whining?

But Mr. Stark pushed. “Relax, kid. It’ll only take a minute... and ease your old man’s mind.”

“Really, Mr. Stark.” Now, Peter tried not to sound too snappish as he interrupted what was most likely going to be another freak out by his mentor. “I’m fine! I promise. I was just warm from too many blankets.”

Mr. Stark blinked, trying to figure out how to react to the dramatic shift in mood, but Peter was backtracking before Mr. Stark could do or even say anything. “Shi—I mean shoot! I’m sorry,” Peter couldn’t contain his frustrated sigh, “I didn’t have the best sleep last night. Okay?” He tried to take a deep breath and calm himself. “Please? All I really want is to take a shower and get all of this adhesive gunk off of me and then maybe try to talk to Aunt May a bit if she’s awake before I lie down in my own bed.” Peter rubbed at the site of the IV that had been taken out only minutes before for effect.

Looking both worried and unsure, Mr. Stark made his decision and moved toward the door, “Yeah, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can let this go, bud. You can razz me for overreacting later. For now, let me grab her and—“  

Peter couldn’t bear it a moment longer. He’d never done well in the med bay—like, ever. And he’d only be able to ignore the fact that his Aunt May was down the hall alone for so long all because Dr. Bonwick had refused Peter’s request to visit, which was totally understandable, but still pure torture. And if he couldn’t see her... hug her... hold her hand, then at least he should be allowed to hide away and catch his breath... or try—just like with all the other stress Peter was being made to deal with. His frustration bubbled over into anger. “I SAID NO! JUST LISTEN TO ME! JUST—“ Peter realized he was losing it and caught himself, too late. He released the breath he’d apparently been holding and dropped his head into his hands in defeat. In contrast to only a moment before, he whispered a plaintive plea, “just stop.”  

Mr. Stark froze in his tracks, only putting his hands up in surrender. “Peter?”

Peter couldn’t help himself and looked up at the sound of his name, mouth agape and stunned at his own outburst as Mr. Stark approached with the caution of one approaching a wounded animal. “Kid?”  

Peter could only shake his head in horror as the words tumbled out of his mouth, “I am so sorry, Mr. Stark. It was such a good day yesterday and I don’t- I don’t know—I didn’t mean—I—I—” He dropped his head in his hands again and groaned in defeat. “crap.”

Way to keep it together, Peter. Idiot.

The room was silent, neither of them knowing exactly what to say after what may have been the most horrifically mortifying moments of Peter’s adolescent life, until Mr. Stark took a few deep breaths and cleared his throat. “So,” he finally spoke, “Is this just about the May stuff or is there something else running around in that head of yours?”

Peter couldn’t bring himself to speak, averted his eyes.

“Pete. You’ve got to give me something.”

Still, he remained silent.

Mr. Stark waited patiently for all of ten seconds before he wrapped a gentle hand around Peter’s wrist and led him to sit on the chair still stationed between their hospital beds. Crouching before Peter, his knees popping on his way down, Mr. Stark tried again. “Can you please look at me?”

Peter could barely manage to shake his head, ‘no.’

Mr. Stark gave Peter’s knee a gentle squeeze. “Can you at least tell me why?”

That inquiry brought on a slightly more vigorous headshake ‘no.’

Mr. Stark shifted a little, then muttered a quiet “ah, screw it” before plopping down, cross-legged onto the floor in front of the boy. “There. Now. If you’re not going to talk—or even look at me, would you at least be okay with my offering a thought or two?”

Maybe Mr. Stark had seen Peter’s barely discernible shoulder shrug, maybe not, but he plugged along as though he had. “I know that you know that me and May were talking, even before the snap...”

Peter cringed.

Mr. Stark ignored it and went on, “And I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but she mentioned your tendency to blame yourself for things waaaaay beyond your control. I’m pretty sure I witnessed some of that myself, if I stop and think back to when I was still being a dumbass.” Mr. Stark paused. “Regardless, you know that the fever was beyond your control, right? Even if it’s not what kept you up last night.”

Peter clenched his jaw to keep from disagreeing.

“Huh. I for sure thought you’d argue with me on that one, even if you were lying. Your aunt may also have mentioned that you were stubborn like your uncle and that once you get a thought in your head, it takes something like divine intervention to get it out of there.”

Peter found himself scrutinizing a particular tile just to the right of Mr. Stark’s knee. Aside from the whole calling him out thing, hearing Mr. Stark speaking of Ben was... disorienting? And he couldn’t...

“If you don’t want to talk right now, that’s fine.” Mr. Stark assured him. “I will remind you that now that all of the world ending garbage has been taken care of, we’ve got all the time and resources we need to work on all of it, okay?”

Peter scowled.

“And you’ve also got a whole load of people who care about you... more than you know and will be around whenever you need us. I can name some of them if you need me to.”

Peter’s frown softened and his cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment.

“Perfect, I’m glad we’ve come to a consensus on all of that. Now,” Mr. Stark gave Peter’s knee a gentle pat and moved onto his next thought as he stood up from the floor. “How’s about we get upstairs, get you into a shower and then snuggle up on the couch. I’ll have FRIDAY queue up ‘A New Hope’ for once you’ve spoken with May and then we can get our nerd on. No need for you to hide away and get lost in your head all over again. Alright? Sound like a plan?”

Peter stayed sat in the chair and contemplated. Maybe hiding away wasn’t what he wanted to do, after all? Getting lost in a galaxy far, far away, with Mr. Stark and... maybe Morgan?

Before he could say anything, Mr. Stark straightened one last time. “C’mon, kid,” the man grabbed Pepper’s blanket and the books. “Let’s get you upstairs before the Missus thinks we’ve been kidnapped or something,” Mr. Stark pulled Peter close then pulled him out the door and down the hallway to the elevator they both knew FRIDAY would deliver to Mr. Stark without needing to press anything. “I’ll get Happy to double check the room later on when he gets in... sound like a plan?”  

Peter nodded, still embarrassed by his emotional outburst, but feeling better for having sorted things out.

“Good show, now are you ready for a movie marathon like no oth—“

Whatever Mr. Stark was going to say was cut off by the elevator doors gliding open to reveal Happy, who choked and paled as he looked at the two before him.  With zero subtlety, the man rushed to hide a bouquet of flowers behind his back. “Um, what are... I mean—“ he cleared his throat nervously. “I thought you guys would be upstairs already. Was everything okay? Peter?” Happy did a quick scan of the boy. “You’re good, right?”

Peter nodded, too emphatically. “Yeah, we were just...um.” Peter trailed off, not wanting to actually tell Happy what had delayed the two.

Mr. Stark figured it out pretty fast though. “We were just making sure we’d grabbed everything before heading up.” Mr. Stark smirked and shifted to sneak a peek behind the man. “We probably missed a crayon or two from yesterday, though, if you felt like taking a gander later... after you’re done with whatever down here? Hey, Hap?”

Happy gulped as his eyes tracked from Mr. Stark, to Peter, and then to Mr. Stark again. “Yeah... I can, uh... I can do that?”

Mr. Stark grinned big. “You’re good, though, right? I would be safe in assuming that those flowers you’re trying to hide mean you aren’t here for a check up then?”

Happy cheeks reddened. “No... I mean, yeah. I’m good.”

Mr. Stark was revelling in Happy’s obvious discomfort. “So then...”

Lydie poked her head around the corner. “Oh! Peter! Mr. Stark! What are you two still doing here?”

Peter just shrugged. “We were trying to leave but we ran into Happy and...”

“Well, then, off you go.” Lydie interrupted shooing them away. “You may have been released, but you know that you’d be best served to take it easy for a few more days, Peter. And you, Mr. Stark, don’t think you’re not in my crosshairs, too.”  

Mr. Stark wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder and immediately steered him back toward the still open elevator doors. “We’re goin’, we’re goin’...” Mr Stark grumbled. “I can tell when we’re not wanted.”

The two turned to face the hallway as the doors slid closed, giving Peter barely a second to wave awkwardly at Happy and Lydie standing together in the hall.

Neither said anything for a moment, when Peter cleared his throat and spoke, “Um, Mr. Stark? Not that it’s any of my business, but how long have Lydie and Happy been dating?”

A shocked inhale had Mr. Stark choking on his spit for a literal half-minute before he could speak again. “Lydie and Happy?!” Mr. Stark just chuckled. “Geez, kid, Let’s get you upstairs so we can have a chat.”

The elevator moved upward toward the penthouse.

Peter, feeling awkward in the silence, spoke up. “It looked like a nice bouquet at least...” and then Peter realized something. “Wait a minute... Mr. Stark? Did that bouquet have all of Aunt May’s favourites in it?”

Mr. Stark smiled big. “Let’s save this one for home, okay, kid?”

Yeah. This one was going to be a doozy.

[piratesfromspace]

Finance Management (Deckard Shaw/Reader)

Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious) x Reader

Word count: 1.9k CW: mention of food & alcohol, smut

Female reader

Note: This short fic has been inspired by a friend of mine who created the character of the financial advisor of mister Shaw.  Also there is not enough fics with Deckard Shaw so here we are. 

Read on Ao3

MASTERLIST

“Mister Shaw, it’s me again, I’m so sorry but I really need you to call me back please. It’s important. Thank you.”

You let out a deep sigh as you hang up. Handling the finances of rich people is a lucrative and thrilling job, but damn it sometimes those clients of yours are annoying. Especially Mister Shaw.

First, he’s annoyingly busy and unreachable. Most powerful people are, but he can disappear for weeks on end without so much as sending an email.

Second, he’s also infuriatingly handsome and smart and funny. And he has an impeccable sense of style. He has nothing in common with the other clients of your firm, mainly old and boring men, whose only conversation subject is their money and how they hate their wives.

And finally, the worst thing about him is how good of a lover he is. You found out half a year ago, when you ended up in his bed after what should have been a regular business dinner. It was a mistake of course. One that could have cost you your career because it was a very serious breach of contract to sleep with a client.

You never told a soul, and you promised yourself to never do it again. But it was still hard to forget the feeling of him pressed against you, of his hands holding your waist, of his mouth between your thighs...

You try to focus again on your task and stretch your legs, kicking out your high heels. Feet bare on the soft carpet, you walk to the floor-to-ceiling window of your posh office, taking a second to admire the view, as the final rays of the sun disappear over the lake, and Geneva lights up under you. It’s breath-taking, really. But it also means you’re once again staying way too late at the office. Your assistant has gone home a couple hours ago, and your colleagues are either on vacation or on business trips, making you the only person on the building’s 7th floor. You still have a few things to finish so you plop on your leather chair and get back to work, hoping to make it home before 11pm.

That’s when you hear it: the familiar *ding* of the elevator’s door, at the end of the corridor. You tense immediately. You’re not waiting for anyone, and the security guards always use the stairs when completing their patrol.

Steps are coming down your way, and you grab your phone, ready to dial for the security team. And then you recognize his silhouette through the polished glass wall. There is a knock on your door before it opens to reveal Deckard Shaw himself. He’s wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch, a very light stubble is highlighting his perfect jawbone and his deep grey eyes bear a mischievous glint. Handsome, as always.

“Mister Shaw…” you stammer.

“You know you can call me Deckard.” His stupidly sexy British accent and cocky smile will be the death of you.

He’s been in your office for two seconds and you already want to slap him in the face - or climb him like a tree, you can’t really decide.

“It’s quite late, Mister Shaw, you scared me. Anything I can do for you?” you insist on saying his family name, in a feeble attempt to maintain a professional façade.

“You needed to see me.” it’s more a comment than a question, and you’re suddenly reminded of the dozen of unanswered phone calls you made trying to reach him.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, but honestly you could have called tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather see you in person.” he answers, looking you straight in the eyes. You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re working too much you know.” he says with a soft smile, as his eyes drift down to your sore bare feet and then to the discarded heels under your desk.

What a condescending prick, you think. But at the same time, he’s right and his care seems somewhat genuine. It will not make you forget you almost lost your job because of him though.

“How did you know I was still here tonight?” you purposely redirect the attention on him, rather than you.

“Well, let’s say I would not leave the woman in charge of my assets without any... supervision.”

“Is that a polite way to say you’ve been spying on me?” you retort dryly.

“Oh I love when you’re getting all angry and snobbish, your French accent is even cuter.”

You’re gonna murder him. You really really want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s the one responsible for a very generous part of your paycheck, so you have to keep quiet.

“I would be more comfortable if we keep our conversation strictly professional, Mister Shaw.”

“Everything you want, dear.”

-----

“Mmph, fu-ck... Deckard, don’t stop”

The professional attitude has been long forgotten, since Deckard has pulled you onto his lap on the velvet couch of his presidential suite at the Four Seasons hotel, where you were supposed to only review the important documents he needed to see. But when the room service had brought a very nice bottle of Scotch, you knew you were screwed. You could not refuse a drink, and the warmth of alcohol combined with the warmth of his hand slightly brushing against your thigh had overcome all your resolve.

You are now sprawled on the king-size bed, moaning his name as Deckard Shaw is destroying your sanity very methodically. One foot on the floor, one leg bent on the edge of the bed, he’s pounding into you, holding your hip with one hand, and circling your clit with the other. His pace is calculated, not too fast so you can feel every inch of him, but not too slow so your nerves don’t have any respite, and it’s driving you crazy. Hands tangled in the dark silk sheets beneath you, you try to catch your breath to no avail.

“I won’t stop darling. Not until I can feel you coming again all over me.” His voice is like heavy honey, dripping all over your senses, drowning you in sweet and sinful promises.

You want to close your eyes to focus on the overwhelming feelings, but the view in front of you is too good to be missed. He looks like some demi-god, bathed in the subdued light of the room, broad and muscular chest, abs perfectly drawn. What is his job again? You vaguely remember him talking about serving a few years in the military when he was younger, but he is still definitely hitting the gym on a regular basis.

His muscles flex when he brings you down on his thick cock a little more sharply than before, and you keen as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. You can feel your orgasm build again, and so can he.

“You’re close, princess, aren’t you?”

You mewl in response and he chuckles darkly, keeping up with his ruthless assault on your most sensitive parts. He angles his fingers just a bit differently on your clit, and keeps thrusting into you, stretching you so perfectly you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good - wait , actually you can, it was a few months ago and it was by mister Deckard “annoyingly perfect” Shaw.

“Come on, I know you want to, I’ll keep going until you give me one more anyway princess…”

And that's it. You’re gone. Back arching off the bed, you come hard, harder than the first time, clenching around him. You barely hear him hiss in pleasure as you spasm helplessly on the soft sheets, the silk feeling almost cool against your burning skin.

----

“Good morning darling."

You open an eye, natural light is flooding the room, as is the delicious smell of fresh coffee and tea. At the foot of the bed, you spot a room service trolley loaded with breakfast treats and through the open door of the bathroom, you can see Deckard is looking at you in the mirror reflection while buttoning a crisp white shirt.

"Your tea is ready. Black, no milk, right?”

He's right and it's annoying because is there anything this man messes up?

"What time is it?" You ask, suddenly remembering you have a busy schedule today.

"You have 27 minutes to eat and get ready, so I can drop you off at your office in time for your first call of the day."

He knows about your tea preferences and your professional agenda, of course he does , he was not joking when mentioning the whole "spying-on-you" situation, or "supervision" as he liked to call it. He needs to stop it, but you decide to keep this discussion for another day.

You stretch, and rise to put on the hotel bathrobe, sighing at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as yesterday. Last you saw them, they were scattered on the floor all over the room and your underwear were positively ruined.

"The concierge was very helpful this morning, thanks to him I got you a few clothes delivered for today." Deckard adds as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the cart and gestures to the leather armchair where a couple of bags doning logos of luxury brands are perched.

You make your way to the packages, and open the first one to reveal a sophisticated dress, fitted and sexy, but not too much that it would be inappropriate as office wear. The second bag is a thoughtful selection of high end make-up products. And the last one contains a gorgeous set of lacy lingerie, nothing too raunchy but sexy nonetheless. Of course everything is in the right size.

"Thank you..." you whisper, a little stunned. The assortment must have cost him a couple grands at the very least - not that he can't afford it because you're well placed to be sure he can, but still, he did not have to do this.

You have to suppress a smile, because damn he's being annoyingly perfect once more, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction to reveal he was right when promising you could stay the night instead of going home and still look fresh for your day at work.

"I was thinking, I'm free tonight, so maybe we can finally review those documents, you know the ones you were supposed to show me before you jumped on me on the couch last night?" Deckard states as he bites in an apple in front of the window, casually looking at lake Geneva glinting in the bright morning sun.

You blush unwillingly, struggling to find a reply that would save you from admitting you had failed at enforcing your usual work ethic.

"I'm kidding dear!" He barks in a laugh. "I know enough to trust you on this venture, you have my approval to go on with the investment." He continues more seriously.

You open your mouth to answer but he's quicker.

"I'm not kidding about being free though, so what about dinner and then we can see where this takes us…"

When you don't answer immediately, he turns to look at you. Maybe he's realizing the situation can be awkward and precarious for you since you're technically working for him.

"You can say no, I won't take any offense." He adds without irony.

"Yes..." You finally answer, tip toeing toward him until you can snatch the apple he was eating from him. He protests but you shush him.

"...Yes, I would like this very much..."

As he starts to protest again, you take a big bite from the fruit with a knowing smile.

"...but only for dinner. Nothing more."

"You'll be the death of me." Deckard says, falsely irritated, his voice dropping lower.

"At least the feeling is mutual, mister Shaw ..."

[inkmemes]

young  royals  (  2021  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  netflix’s  swedish  ya  drama.  non-contextual  spoilers.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  sexual  activity,  drugs,  alcohol,  death,  implied  internalised  homophobia,  bullying.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“at least you can stay for a cup of coffee?”

“hey, wait up. did you sleep together?” 

“he's probably making out with someone. forget it.”

“i can't take it anymore.”

“what are you doing?”

“and he had to finish your sentence. what's going on? you like him.”

“every time you see your dad, you get all depressed.”

“you're still here, so obviously you must want something.”

“are you high? what the hell are you on?”

“does this make you horny?” 

“i like [town name], but i don't want to live here forever.”

“you can leave now. go home. i'm staying here for the weekend.”

“do you want chocolate?”

“how do you feel?” 

“it's kind of hard to tell them apart, you know.” 

“you're a worthless drunk.”

“you … you need to figure out what you want. and you can take all the time you need. and i respect that. but you have to do it by yourself. i don't want to be anyone's secret.”

“you have to stop pretending that you're not afraid.”

“that's the thing, i just don't want that.”

“it's something new. something fresh.”

“can we talk privately for a minute?” 

“and if anyone gives you a hard time, you know, just let me know, and i'll take care of it.” 

“you do know you don't need to hide?” 

“are you gonna let us in?”

“promise to let me know if there's anything i can do.”

“hey, we won't go blind from your moonshine, right?”

“i'm just getting a good vibe. that's all.”

“you're so fucking pathetic.”

“you realize that this will have consequences?”

“he's such a fucking idiot.”

“i wanted us to have a few minutes alone.”

“when you're young, love feels like the most important thing in the world.” 

“i really like you.”

“felt like i had to rescue you from that situation.”

“it got so damn hot in there, i thought i'd get some fresh air.”

“you are allowed your own opinions. it's cool.”

“i've seen the way you look at each other.”

“here, this one is a little big for me, but i think it'll look great on you.”

“do you think royal dick is different than regular?”

“you're the only one here i feel i can actually talk to.” 

“i haven't heard anything yet, but i'll tell you as soon as i do.”

“you can't just lie here jerking off.”

“i don't want to go to some fucking boarding school!”

“i've missed this place so much.”

“are you going to horror movie night on friday?”

“but i like you. and that is not fake.”

“you don't need to share everything.”

“we should go to a concert again sometime.”

“you're fucking crazy!”

“where have you been? i've been trying to reach you.”

“just don't use the school's wi-fi for porn surfing. could be embarrassing.”

“but no matter what, they can't dictate what you say.”

“sorry about last night.”

“i don't want to talk to you!”

“i don't wanna sound like an idiot.”

“i was thinking, would you like to have a sleepover at my place? because that's something friends do. it's going to be really cozy.”

“i think maybe we should forget about that.”

“you can't really see that it is you.”

“i mean, it could be anyone. it's so fucking stupid.”

“i don't want to say anything.” 

“now you're doing it again. you're trying to take care of me.” 

“i can take it, it's okay.”

“that's not true. i haven't spoken to my parents.”

“we haven't done anything wrong.”

“you're beautiful! you're so beautiful.”

“i'm gay, [name].”

“seriously? what the fuck is your problem?”

“you keep letting people piss on you!”

“i just assumed you didn't want special treatment.”

“keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“so you thought you'd start spreading false rumours without having any proof?” 

“i just didn't want to lose you.”

“uh, there's pizza left if you want some.”

“everybody thinks you're perfect. you know that, right?”

“he's just been outed.”

“i'm going to fuck this up.”

“he bloody ruined my fucking life!”

“why are you sitting in your room sulking when you have a crush to hang out with?”

“hi. sorry, i was feeling a bit better. so i thought it was okay that i hung out with some friends.”

"everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want.”

“i woke up in my own bed. that's always something.”

“could i just have one second? just one second alone, please?”

“i’m sorry. but it was, like, the only way.”

“i thought, everyone deserves a second chance.”

“i'm sorry about the mess. i wasn't expecting such distinguished company.”

“i just don't want you to be treated badly again.”

“oh, fuck.”

“you don't even… aren't you even gonna answer me?”

“i didn't know that one was supposed to sign up.”

“in real life, you don't pay to get ahead.”

“and what the fuck does your dad do?”

“let's try to have some table manners.”

“it's, like, really serious.”

“who the hell can live like this for three fucking years?”

“that's what happens when you buy the cheap ones.”

“i need your help with something. ”

“being a prince is not a punishment, but a privilege.”

“it's awesome to just chill out.”

“or maybe he lied about that too. what do i know?”

“you have to give people a chance.”

“you have to try to see it from my perspective.” 

“what the hell's this?”

“what happened to "we should forget about it"?”

“stop being so fucking stubborn and try to understand my situation.”

“sometimes it's better not to say everything.” 

“i was just bored.”

“have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“sometimes it's better to keep quiet.”

“can i get you some coffee?”

“nobody else cares about these things.”

“i lost track of time.”

“everybody does the same things and everybody knows everybody.”

“thanks for rescuing me yesterday.”

“remember when he came up to us the first week and was like, "what's up?"”

“i need you to delete all our texts.”

“i can't keep doing this anymore.”

“are you gonna let them go on with their bullshit?”

“i want to be with you.”

“here's a blanket, a pillow, and bed sheets. there you go.”

“okay, yeah. you don't seem to have grasped what i'm trying to say.”

“it's usually boring as hell.”

“he's been dealing to us for months.”

“i don't want to talk to him.”

“don't you wanna date [name] anymore?”

“i don't know why he's started texting me again. he knows i don't want anything to do with him.” 

“yeah, we had a shitload of drugs.”

“we could murder someone, and nobody would say a word.”

“she needs some fun.”

“he's just doing it to fuck with me.”

“it's such a weird question.”

“i just wanted to say hi. i don't believe we've met. ”

“but i still want us to be friends.”

“if i were to stay here… would you… like to keep me company? just you and me.”

“everything's, like, upside down now.”

“have you always lived here?”

“damn it. sorry. shit. i completely forgot.”

“i'm sure someone has a story to tell.”

“you've got to put yourself first. i mean, no matter what he thinks about it.”

“come on! you can't just sit there stuck in your room.”

“you can snuggle up in my safe arms if it gets scary.”

“i want to live a normal life.”

“let me have a look. you can hardly see it.”

“any other dick that's been sucked?”

“you just expect everything to be on your terms.”

“i want to know everything!”

“you don't have to go there. i'll take care of myself.”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” 

“i'll just stay in and go to bed early.”

“thanks for explaining the schedule.”

“i'd rather die.”

“i don't want you to be mad.”

“promise to tell me if something is wrong.”

“i can't be dressed like this if you're dressed like that.” 

“it's really complicated.”

“it feels like you don't care what people think about you, or if you have a lot of friends and stuff.” 

“nobody asked you to come. feel free to leave if you want.”

“well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this!” 

“there isn't so much to do around here.”

“you've become such a snob.”

“i know you're only trying to help me.” 

“do you like it here?”

“i don't wanna go in there. we're not even invited. fuck this.”

“don't you think it's weird [name] invited us to come?”

“if they hadn't been here, would you've, uh, made out with me?”

“so, you're an actual proper couple now?”

“you're thinking about someone else.”

“you're right. we're doing this together.”

“thanks… for nothing.”

“why are you even so obsessed with him?”

“i want you to hold me.”

“call me when you want to be picked up.”

“what the fuck do you care?” 

“i don't think we're a couple or anything. i don't know what it is.”

“you never asked me!”

“your focus should be on comforting me so that i can comfort him.” 

“it's not that hard. you have to be able to keep up appearances.”

“famous people make videos like that.”

“maybe somebody forgot to tell me, as usual.”

“just make a move on [name] and show him what you want.”

“you wanna stay a while and jam?”

“have you talked to your parents about it?”

“a diverse bunch of losers, who'll never amount to anything.”

“why can't i decide how the hell i want to live?”

“apparently, i'm the only one who doesn't know everybody.”

“i used to have straight a's on every test.”

“it will damage our reputation.”

“i'm fucking starving.”

“why is it called tax "evasion" but welfare "scam"? it's all right that rich people cheat, but when poor people do it, it's messed up. for rich people, it's not even called "welfare”, it's called "deduction."”

“what the fuck is rowing?”

“what the hell have you done, [name]?”

“good voice, man.”

“why can't i just have a relationship with him?”

“did you have fun last friday?”

“all the people are fake. they're made out of metal.”

what do you want me to say? i'm sorry!”

“is this some kind of prank?”

“i like you when you are yourself!”

“but you like him, don't you?”

“she shouldn't talk to you like that.”

“are you into him?”

“something's not right, i think we should head back to the road.”

“do you have trouble sleeping?”

“doesn't anyone care what i want?”

“just don't tell anyone that i've been here.”

“i was going to text you back, but…”

“your only mistake was that you hung out with the wrong kind of people.”

“i just wanted to help.”

“i know you'll use anything to get high or drunk.” 

“it's time to stop being so selfish.”

“i just want my fucking money.”

“you should've planned ahead. didn't you bring a sandwich?” 

“who the fuck wants to be normal anyway?”

“you fucking told me you were the one i could always come to!”

“i take it back.”

“i can see there's something going on.”

“i have to finish getting ready, so if you could please leave.”

“no one likes me when i'm myself.” 

“i hope you have a nice christmas.”

“i'm gonna do the wrong things, say the wrong things.”

“my mom is gonna kill me.”

“do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“i cannot be dragged into this.”

“i like you too.”

“you're no longer a part of my family.”

“it's well-suited for smaller people.”

“i assume that he thought that it would make him popular.”

“i didn't ask for this!”

“it's no problem. i like doing it.”

“it feels like i'm gonna throw up.”

“don't i get any breakfast?”

“whatever i do, i can't do anything right.”

“we haven't been to any party whatsoever.”

“did you get my texts?”

“i think it sounds romantic.”

“uh, wait, you have to come to the horror movie night on friday.”

“i liked what you said in there, [name].”

“okay, maybe he used to be a player, but love can actually change you.”

“it's nice to make an effort and dress up for dinner.” 

“i'm in a fucked-up situation and i'm trying to talk to you.” 

“you don't understand. i was gonna pay it.”

“you're not that kind of guy.”

“i was about to go outside and, um, do you wanna come with?”

“what about me?” 

“it was… okay, i guess.”

“can i sit with you?”

“you call this a scary movie?”

“i have a million things to take care of, i don't have time to talk to you.”

“have you lost it completely?”

“but i'm starving.”

“this past year has been difficult for me.”

“i don't get it. she's making it into such a big deal.”

“no, this won't work. just take it off, please.” 

“i'm not like that.”

“fuck you. it's not a crush.”

“then i know that i can't count on you.”

“can't you come see me in [town] sometime?”

“it's just that we can't be seen together.” 

“he was still sleeping when i walked in.”

“doesn't bother me at all. i've seen it. absolutely. 100%.”

“[name] is really getting on my nerves! seriously.”

“i want us to be friends again.”

“i thought you and [name] were friends.”

“make sure you check your dms. okay?”

“you think it's fun to fuck with people like me?”

“never spend money you don't have. okay?”

“you think i'm stupid?”

“this sucks.” 

“how nice to see some smiles.”

“this isn't just about me, but my entire family.”

“i'm going to marry her.”

“are you threatening me?”

“don't you realize the shit storm that follows if i come out?” 

“i don't want you to talking to her.”

“remember what we saw during movie night? when they sat next to each other?”

“i love you.”

“i just want to hang out with you.”

"there's no point in having a back-up if you never use it."

“pretend i'm saying something clever.”

“how's [name]? he must be totally devastated.”

“what do you think they think we're talking about?”

“everything is fake. everything in the world is fake.”

“[name] is dead.”

“it just wasn't what i thought it would be like.”

“since when did you start liking him for real?” 

“what a fucking douchebag. god!”

“what the hell are you saying? chill out!”

[fireinmoonshot]

41. "You should sleep in my bed more often" with Kingo ? Pretty please? 🥺🥰

You woke to the feeling of the sun on your face, filtering in through a break in the curtain closest to your bed. It was strange – you could have sworn that you’d closed it properly before you got into bed. It had become a habit of yours to check.

With a huff, you turned over and buried your head further into the pillow, wanting to go back to sleep. You were tired, and you deserved the few extra hours of sleep. It had been a long day yesterday, which ended with… Kingo.

You bolted upright, sleep entirely leaving your body and eyes blinking open, taking in the room around you that was definitely not yours. The sheets on the other side of the bed were crumpled like they’d been slept on, and there was a pillow in the middle of the bed, as if separating you from someone… like the man currently exiting the bathroom.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Kingo greeted you with a smile. “How did you sleep?”

“I’m sorry… did we… did we… y’know?” You blinked at him.

He stared at you for a moment, trying to figure out the meaning of your words. Then he gasped. “Who do you take me for? We didn’t. But you did kiss me. And then you refused to let me take you to your actual apartment, and so we ended up here. Hence the pillow wall in the middle of the bed so I didn’t get into your space.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and fell back onto the bed, head hitting the pillow. If Kingo was telling the truth, if you really had kissed him last night… then you’d kissed your best friend, a little drunkenly, and he wasn’t mad at you about it.

Kingo sat down on the edge of the bed and leant over you. “Did you faint?”

“No.” You opened one eye to look up at him. “But I wish I had.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m embarrassed about what I did last night.”

His face fell a little, though he masked it rather quickly. He was an actor, after all. “Oh, you are? I didn’t mind it. You’re not a bad kisser.” He paused and leant back away from you. “I thought it might have been your way of telling me you wanted more than friendship.”

The truth was, you did want more than friendship. You had ever since you’d met Kingo a few years ago now. But why would someone like Kingo want you? He was an Eternal – a secret he’d told you in confidence – and you were a human. Just a boring human.

But, you figured, you’d embarrassed yourself enough already, so what was a little more?

“If it had been, what would you say to that?” You stared at the ceiling.

Kingo glanced at you. “I would say… me too. And I’d tell you to kiss me again.”

Your eyes opened abruptly, but Kingo continued before you could react any more.

“I’d say… that you should sleep in my bed more often. Perhaps on a more regular schedule. And without a pillow wall in-between us.” He felt like his heart was in his throat. Was this all just a game, or were you being truthful?

“Are– are you being serious?” You sat up, looking directly at him.

Kingo met your eyes. “Was it your way or saying you wanted more, or was that a game?”

“It was my way of saying I wanted more,” you admitted. “And I’d say yes to kissing you again, and I’d say that sleeping in your bed more often without this pillow in-between us sounds… perfect. If you’ll have me.”

What was the harm in a little more truth now?

Kingo smiled. “I’ll have you for as long as you have me. And maybe even longer.”

[fukurodanni]

love for the rich and emotionally stunted: a comprehensive guide

ch. 1/7 -- prev. -- next. pairing: jumin han x f!reader warnings: n/a series summary: in the months following the incident with his father's most recent paramour, glam choi, the corporate heir of C&R finds himself discovering exactly what it is that makes a person in love so blind. ao3 link

note: office romance slowburn. featuring hallmark tropes and bad flirting. enjoy the ride. hop into my inbox for a tag if you're interested though! kiss kiss.

-

You don’t mean for it to happen the first time.

Considering the state of your routine and your general efficiency (required when it comes to a job at C&R) it’s easy to say that showing up early is an ingrained habit. It had happened a few times too many when you’d first started working and just sort of stuck. However.

It’s thirty minutes past schedule when you wake up in a state of panic, rushing and grabbing for clothes and keys and wallet before stumbling out the door.

But for as much as you’d worried, it all turns out fine. You’re still on time, a nice man holds the door open for you--you don’t think you’ve seen him before, or maybe you’re so distressed your brain doesn’t recognize the face--and there aren’t any consequences. You don’t get yelled at. You aren’t behind. Really, you should have overslept more often.

So the next day you set your alarm a little later than usual and allow yourself to sleep. It goes much smoother than the day before and you still make it on time, looking much better than you had 24 hours prior. The same man--you think-- holds the door open for you, and you glance back to smile and thank him.

Except you really must have been too stressed to notice because the man you’re staring at is the executive director and immediate heir to C&R.

Your smile falls.

And then you choke out a noise of gratitude that’s supposed to sound like “Thanks,” but the shock in your voice turns it to audible mush. Mr. Han only hums in return and walks past you with all the dignity and poise of a seasoned Calvin Klein model. Your heart hammers with a startling lucidity at the surprise of it all but it isn’t anything that you think much of, so you make it back to your desk on time and it’s all fine, it’s all fine. It isn’t until about an hour later that you realize it’s probably the first time you’ve seen him so close in person.

Not that it matters, of course, but then it does - because it happens again.

And again, and again.

The routine continues for about a week: the “thank you,” the hum of a response, and no further conversation besides that at the door. You’ve gotten to catch longer glimpses of him as this routine has gone on, the shine of his hair, this grey of his eyes, but there’s something that intrigues you infinitely more. You haven’t gotten him to smile and it nags at you, incessant. So you’re determined to do it now.

You crack a joke about his consistency the next time you see him, a smile playing coy at your lips. He just hums again. Killjoy.

“What?”

“What?” You ask, turning on your heel. His voice is much deeper than in the press interviews.

“Were you calling me a killjoy?”

“Not intentionally, no.” You quip back, face feeling hot. You turn again and begin walking back, nursing the humiliation you can already feel pricking at your nerves. “Have a nice day, Mr. Han.”

You think he says something like “You too,” but you wouldn’t notice it over the rush in your ears.

That went well.

-

Another day passes, another routine, rinse and repeat. He doesn’t seem bothered by yesterday’s incident, so you’re planning to talk to him again tomorrow, just to give it a day in between. It’s going to get annoying soon, but he’s neither fired nor closed the door in your face so in all situations, it really is a win-win.

Jumin Han opens the door for you, wordlessly as ever. You spare a glance at him.

“I’d considered arriving late just to get a reaction out of you, and then I realized that I wouldn’t even be there to see it.” You quirk your head in wait, watching as the corners of his lips twitch into an unwitting smile.

Mirth is very becoming on him, you realize. Oh no.

“I’m sure it would be quite the sight, Miss.” He replies, that same almost-smile creasing a dimple into his cheek. When he nods his good morning and walks off to the tippity-top of the C&R building, all the office lights seem a little brighter in the wake.

You shake yourself from your musings and an intern is already brushing past you in their hurry to return to their place-- wherever that may be, and it reminds you to do the same. C&R International, with all its focus on exports, has a wide breadth when it comes to fashion. Having directed several of its projects, you know this firsthand. You also know that when your schedule isn’t filled to the brim, everything else seems like busywork.

For the first time in a few months you feel like a regular, 9-to-5 office worker.

Additionally, this means that you’ve returned to being hyped up on watery coffee all the time. The building’s cafeteria is a modern marvel in and of itself, overpriced as its food may be. Your break is just long enough for you to catch two-thirds of a meal and a conversation if the mood strikes, otherwise a whole meal and a moment to catch up on social media. Having just passed the two-thirds-meal mark, you’re surprised to see someone else approaching your seat.

Funnily, horribly enough, it’s Mr Han himself, who’s looking at you with the same unbidden curiosity that a child might grant a particularly fascinating caterpillar.

“You work here,” he says, without greeting. It’s an innocent enough statement.

Did he not know? That you work here? Was he under the impression that you’d just started showing up for his own personal amusement and one-sided banter at the beginning of the month?

“Uh,” you say. “Yes.”

He blinks at you. You think for a moment that he might fire you on the spot. You don’t know why.

“I have a lanyard,” you say dumbly, holding it up. You wave it around a little. Mr Han nods, looking professional as ever. “I see,” he says. “Work hard.” And then he leaves, Italian leather on polished marble and all. You still need to finish the rest of your salad.

-

It’s almost ironic, the fact that you arrive late the next day.

After the strange half-encounter with Mr. Han, you’ve given yourself a moment of contemplation. Surely if the man hadn’t given a second thought to you besides your shared mornings-- not even a minute, besides-- then there wouldn’t be any point in pursuing him any further. He hadn’t even realized you worked there, not really.

Office romances never work out, anyhow.

You don’t even know if it was an office romance that you were pursuing in the first place. Perhaps it would have been nice, just to have another friend at work. Not that you were lacking, only that everyone had already seemed to settle in their routines and you’d been so busy, and well. Some things work out that way, and it’s not like you’re awful at small talk.

You’re running to the door of the office building, shoes clacking noisily against the pavement. You have to open the door for yourself this time.

“I thought you were kidding about arriving late to see my reaction.”

You think your neck just about cracks with the speed you turn to the noise. Mr Han stands not two meters from you, head tilted curiously in that same innocent wonder. He looks sort of sheepish, though you can’t quite figure why.

“I’m, uh--” You stare at him then, really take him in. Nothing comes. “I’m late for work.”

His eyes widen a fraction. And then he starts chuckling, softly, and it’s petrichor after rain, a deep tenor from low in his throat that has you suddenly, instantly warm. It isn’t much, not really.

But then you start laughing too, familiar and gleeful and it’s almost like you weren’t having a deep monologue about him that spanned most of last night. When you meet his eyes again, warm like the earth, it’s enough to boil hope in you, sunlight spilling over.

You don’t know for what yet, but you figure it’s something you’d like to find out.

-

tags: @vandysgf @banenaz @mrs-han thank u!

[nevertheless-moving]

Star Wars AU #20: MacenJar AU

Inspired by this meme and with permission from @simpskywalker

This au is dedicated to everyone who told me that this concept ‘gave them a headache’ or ‘psychic damage’. Especially that special someone who begged me to ‘please stop’ because ‘i hate this, i hate this so much’ and told me ‘please don’t say more words about this.’

Crack Lies Ahead, enough to consume a man. I have spoken.

“Ani. Ani. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hmm?” The dulcet sounds of Padme calling his name dragged Anakin from sleep against his will. 

“Anakin, you have to get up.”

He groaned, rolling over. “...here’s my face...I’ll...be awake in a second...just sit down...I’m awake...”

“No, Anakin you have to leave, remember. You have a 5 AM take-off scheduled, and you made me promise I would get you up early this time, come on.”

She cruelly yanked the covers away. He gasped in betrayal. 

“My own wife...how could you.”

“Anakin if you’re not out of bed in the next 30 seconds the next time you beg to stay the night because ‘you can get up early, you swear’ I am kicking you out before anyone sits anywhere near anyone’s face, do you understand.”

He sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed. “Ok, Ok, I’m up I- Padme!”

“Yes?” She asked sweetly, brushing her hair at the vanity. 

“It’s 3 AM!”

“Yes I know, you were going to stop at that bakery I recommended, remember?”

“You woke me up an hour and half early so I could stop at a bakery,” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Anakin, it was your idea. It was going to be your cover, in case anyone wondered what you were doing in the building.”

“That is-” before he could call it the stupidest idea he had ever heard, the memory of promising Padme that staying the night was a good idea because it would facilitate his cunning ruse (he was distracted, ok? Padme was wearing a lot of layers) came rushing back.

“-right,” he finished lamely.

Padme just hummed and began braiding in her cosmetic forcefields. 

Anakin managed to stretch, complete his morning refresher run, and arrange his robes in a suitably decorous fashion by the time Padme had established the base layer of her hairstyle for the day.

A quick kiss- no goodbye, it hurt too much to say goodbyes in war - and Anakin was out the door. 

He idly scratched his chin, vacantly looking out the lift and vaguely considering growing a beard. The pre-dawn view was quickly replaced by metal walls as the ride dropped below the skyline.

The transparisteel pod began to slow scarcely one third of the way down. Anakin suppressed a groan and tried to arrange his expression in Jedi-stoic manner, hoping that whoever got in the lift with him would be too intimidated by seeing a Jedi close-up to think about what they were doing in a Senatorial Apartment building at 3:15 in the morning. If they ask, I’m visiting the famous Bebbisun Bakery. Bennison? BELLASAN. I’m visiting the Bellasan Bakery.

Actually, anyone getting into the elevator this early was probably also doing the walk of shame so it’s probably fi-KRIFFING SITH SPIT THAT’S

“Master Windu!” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice an octave. “Good- Good Morning!”

Windu’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Knight Skywalker. Good morning to you as well,” he replied, stepping in the elevator, doors closing behind.

The lift descended as Anakin’s heart rate skyrocketed. This was it. Windu had to be here for Anakin. What other possible explanation could there be? WHY WASN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING?

Wait.

What other possible explanation...could...why wasn’t he saying ANYTHING?

Anakin scrutinized Master Windu out of the corner of his eye. Were those...the same robes he was wearing yesterday? They looked like the same robes but then again...pretty much all robes looked the same so this was probably a stupid way to figure things out. Fuck, it was too early for this.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t get a sense of the Master’s surface emotions. But his underlying aura seemed...happy? Typically Windu's serene presence had a tinge of righteous fury (something that had frightened him back when he was a child). But now that ever present vaapad edge was... softened? Anakin wracked his tired brain for a more reasonable explanation than- than the obvious but obviously impossible. He had to projecting. Right? Then again...couplings weren’t forbidden (even if Anakin couldn’t quite understand how people enjoyed just- having sex without any attachment).

The corners of Anakin’s lips twitched. The Master of the Order. Getting laid. Master Windu. In the Senatorial apartments. Mace Windu. What level had he gotten on? Above aides...diplomats probably. Should he ask? Force, this was too good- he couldn’t not ask.

Windu stared at him cooly and the knight instantly sobered. What was he thinking? Windu was obviously trying to trick him! If he said anything, Windu would turn it against him! Well, he wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Anakin spent the next several levels of descent staring forward, determined not to be the one to break the silence. 

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the lift slowing prematurely again until the doors opened; an elderly Rodian hobbled in. The two Jedi moved even further apart to allow the man some space.  The lift closed and newcomer glanced at the humans curiously. 

“Aren’t you Jedi? What are two Jedi doing here so early?”

“Bakery,” Mace and Anakin responded in unison, heads snapping to stare at the other in surprise.

The Rodian chuckled. “Oh, that Bellasan place, right?”

“Yes,” Windu replied smoothly. “They have a famously unique caf blend.”

“And you can’t get Sweesonberry rolls anywhere else,” Anakin added quickly, not letting the opportunity to firm up his cover go to waste.

“You mammals and your carbohydrates,” The elderly reptilian clucked, bemused.

Knight Skywalker and Master Windu exchanged wary looks. The door pinged open on level 4848. 

“Enjoy!” the overly entertained Rodian called out as they stepped out from the closing doors.

Anakin cleared his throat. “After you, Master Windu,” he said politely. CHECKMATE FUCKER.

But Windu just nodded serenely, striding confidently ahead, past the checkpoints and into the attached upper-crust market. After a very short walk, Anakin found himself in line behind Mace Windu at a pastry shop in the basement of his wife’s apartment building.

Anakin blearily thought that sentence through again, then subtly pinched the inside of his arm.

Nope, he was awake.

Every second that passed Anakin had to fight the steadily increasing urge to blurt out something stupid, and possibly incriminating, if not both. Just say something bland! Nothing about why they’re both here so early. Nothing about coming here before. Something casual.

“Smells good,” Anakin said.

Nailed it!

“Indeed,” Mace replied.

I’m a genius! He actually thinks I’m here for the bakery! He’s never going to suspect a thing! He was probably here for some boring pre-dawn meeting, and now I’ve got the perfect excuse to come visit Padme whenever! I can probably start sneaking off more often, I’ve just got to remember to bring back a pasty or something. And he can’t even say shit about un-Jedi like consumption!

“Skywalker-”

Oh no. Please be about the bakery. Pleasebeaboutthe

“Believe me when I tell you that I’d rather not ask-”

Oh NO. THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE ABOUT THE BAKERY. I’M AN IDIOT.

“-But did you fly here in a temple speeder?”

Cold sweat started to trickle down Anakin’s back as they shuffled forward automatically in the surprisingly long queue. Guess that’s why Padme woke me up so early.

“Knight Skywalker? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Master Windu, sorry- I was, uh, distracted by the specials board. I, um, have my own hoverbike. Built it myself. No temple resources involved.”

“Sounds...distinctive.” Windu’s tone seemed neutral, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose was obviously irritated. They stepped forward again. Why are so many people at this bakery so early? Guess we’re far enough down that day/night cycles don’t matter so much. Oh kriff, he’s massaging his temples now. Why is he mad about the bike? Is he going to ask where I landed it? Fuck.

Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I- I thought it would be better to take personal property. Since this isn’t exactly order business.”

“That’s very responsible of you. Such...separation of personal from professional is an important skill for a Jedi.” 

The trickle of sweat down his spine increased. The Chosen One discretely wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his sleeves and prayed that his outer robe was hiding any growing pit stains. 

Are we...actually talking about this? Is he going to admit to having an affair? Is he going to tell me to keep this quiet? I CAN BARELY KEEP MY OWN RELATIONSHIP SECRET! Does he know about Padme? Does he know we’re married? Is this conversation still about the bakery visit? Is HE married?

“However...such a vehicle might not be the most discrete. And discretion is also an important skill.”

Is he giving me permission to use the temple landspeeders to visit padme? Is he telling me to take the bus? WAIT! IS THIS A METAPHOR? Is he telling me to come here less? Is this still about the bakery? Did I actually check that I wasn’t still asleep or did I just dream that I checked?

“Do you understand, Knight Skywalker”

“I- uhh. I mean- well, ummm- OH look, it’s your turn to order!”

Master Windu stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, again! Same as last time?”

OH FORCE GODS HE’S A REGULAR. THIS IS IT. I’M NEVER GOING TO GET TO SEE OBI-WAN OR ASHOKA AGAIN AND PADME’S CAREER IS GOING TO BE RUINED AND

“The same blend please, but please add on one of your Sweesonberry rolls- a friend recommended them.”

...Did Mace Windu just call me his friend?

“Excellent choice! Your friend has good taste!”

Mace Windu stepped to the side and Anakin Skywalker stepped up. “...I’ll have what he had.” 

A minute or two later, they were walking back to the lift, matching disposamugs and flimsibags in hand. 

To try and delay the inevitable, the pale and now very sweaty young Jedi took a sip of caf. He raised both brows involuntary. “This is...really good. Holy kriff. I don’t usually drink caf for the flavor but...wow.”

“Worth the trip?” Windu asked. Anakin choked a little but successfully managed to swallow. He took another sip to avoid answering. 

Windu took a bite of his roll, making a small noise of appreciation, “The pastry is also excellent. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but this is remarkably smooth...I can’t say I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”

“Floral, right?” Anakin said, grinning into his cup. 

“Yes, that’s a good description.” Ha! I told Padme I was paying attention.

They drank companionably as the lift indicator dinged closer. 

“Skywalker...you’re parked on 4970, right?”

The knight nodded, too afraid to speak. The force seemed to swirl at the precipice of something. 

The Master sighed. “Look- I’ve got an unregistered van- this one time only, stow the speeder, and I’ll give you a ride back. If you’re visiting the bakery in the future- please take something with a closed cab. Last thing we need is the tabloids wondering where you’re going...”

Anakin nodded again, more eagerly again. He was practically being given permission to visit Padme! That was totally worth an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the temple! He just had to chew slowly so he couldn’t blurt out anything marriage related! He was a genius!

The lift opened.

“Jar-Jar!” Anakin said, surprised and pleased. “Wow, are you also here for the bakery? This place really is popular!”

“Ani! Little Ani! Wassa you doin here?” Jar-Jar looked around wildly, then stumbled out, foot catching at the gap. Windu darted forward and effortlessly saved the Gungan before he hit the floor, while Anakin stuck his arm forward to catch the closing door.

“Bakery, Jar Jar!” he said as he stepped inside. “I’d love to talk, but we’ve actually got to get back to the temple!”

Windu struggled to untangle himself from Jar-Jar, who was being particularly unhelpful about it, even for him. Wow he’s even clingier than usual this early in the morning. It’s nice how patient Master Windu is being; I feel like even Obi-Wan can be too hard on Jar-Jar sometimes.

“Actually Skywalker, why don’t you go on ahead and stow the bike- I just remembered I meant to pick something up for Council; I won’t take long.”

“Uh. Alright,” Anakin said, catching the keys. I guess I can’t really be late if I arrive with Master Windu.

“Ossa no!” Jar-Jar exclaimed sadly. “I was justa saying to Macey lassa night thatsa I missed talkin wit little Ani!”

Anakin smiled reassuringly as the lift began to close. “Don’t worry Jar-Jar! We’ll- catch uh-HOLD ON did you say LAST NIGHT?!”

Mace’s eyes closed in resignation as the door shut on the pair, Jar-Jar still tangled around the Jedi.

AND MACE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO PUT HIM BACK UPRIGHT ANYMORE HOLY KRIFF JUST PUT THAT TOGETHER.

Anakin stared blankly at the metal walls as they rushed past. The lone Jedi Knight took a long sip of caff, then carefully placed the pastry bag and drink on the floor. He systematically wadded up the sleeve of his robe and shoved in his mouth. He then spent the next few minutes squealing with unholy glee while literally bouncing off the walls in a manner only accessible to a force sensitive in an elevator. He was still panting slightly when the lift opened on the primary parking level.

We can double date! Padme and I can host! I can help Mace and Jar-Jar plan their wedding! We can reform the order to allow for romantic love! I can be Jar-Jar’s best man! Padme and I can have another ceremony and Obi-Wan can give me away while Mace officiates and  and then we’ll all have sweesonbury cake and Jar-Jar can help teach our kids how to swim! 

With those dreamy thoughts running through his mind, it was child’s work to follow the the force to the unremarkable hovervan. He was humming to himself when Master Windu opened the door. 

He beamed at the older Jedi. Windu scowled in reply. Anakin smiled wider, unintimidated. He genuinely liked the Gungan, but anyone who could spend hours with Jar-Jar had to have a soft side.

“You know, Jar-Jar is a long time friend of Senator-”

“No.” Windu cut the eager words brusquely. 

Anakin shrank back, a little hurt.

(Maybe a lot hurt.)

Mace glanced over at the obviously crestfallen young General and sighed before amending his words.

“Not- Not right now, alright? Maybe if you’re miraculously more discrete about this than you are about your affection for Senator Amidala, then we can talk, understood?”

Anakin nodded with absolute determination, glimmering images of fairytale weddings visible once more. Distant, perhaps- but the chance was worth any amount of tongue biting. Now that there was a real, possible future where he could have it all, now that he knew Windu had a heart somewhere under his robes- he could be patient. 

He could be very patient.

Anakin calmed his grin down to a smaller, more Jedi-like smile, taking a sip of the cool but still really good caf. He channeled Obi-Wan’s most neutral diplomatic grace.

“Thank you for the ride, Master Windu. I appreciate it.”

Windu gave him an approving glance. “You’re more than welcome, Knight Skywalker.”

Feeling bold, he continued on with his best non-mocking impression of Obi-Wan.

"Have you had a chance to read the latest report on helmet redesigns? I think they might really improve peripheral vision without compromising concussive resistance.”

Mace hummed thoughtfully. “I have. I’m somewhat concerned about deploying such a radical change mid-campaign. Even better gear requires an adjustment period, and I’d rather minimize needless deaths while the troops readjust to hud flow.”

“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern, I was talking to Captain Rex-”

They spent the remainder of the flight chatting comfortably about troop safety and absentmindedly eating (or possibly stress eating in response to the prolonged absence of interpersonal conflict) the box of pastries Mace had picked up. When they arrived at the temple, they divvied up the remainder between them, quietly agreeing that there weren’t enough to share anyway. 

They continued their conversation, Master Windu accompanying him to the orbital loading bay. 

Obi-Wan rushed over in alarm at the sight of them approaching. “Anakin, there you are- I was starting to wonder if you’d make it. Terribly sorry Master Windu- I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother-”

“He’s not your padawan anymore, you don’t have to apologize for him. Though I do appreciate the reflex.”

“I suppose the concern isn’t completely baseless.” Anakin said, tone deliberately mildly. Mace chuckled slightly and Obi-Wan took a step back, slightly frightened by the sudden camaraderie. Anakin pretended to take a sip from his now empty disposamug to avoid fist pumping the air or cheering.

“I- Yes well- the important thing is you’re here in time for departure. What- what is that in the bag.”

Moment of Truth. Don’t freak out. Focus. Prove you can be discrete, THEN double dates, THEN Jedi Wedding Ceremony.

“Sweesonbury Roll,” Anakin answered placidly. He pretended to take another sip of caf. “Master Windu was kind enough to give me a ride from the bakery.”

“That’s- I’m sorry, what?” Anakin bit the inside of cheek to keep himself from reacting to Obi-Wan’s palpable bewilderment.

“I had to double back and get more, but we came straight here after,” Mace added helpfully, with zero hint of intentional mischief. “Oh and Skywalker- you can call me Mace if we’re not discussing temple business.”

Anakin SCREAMED (internally, of course). Outwardly, he simply bowed politely. “And you’re welcome to call me Anakin, of course.”

He deliberately avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan, his former Master’s bug-eyed reaction already pushing him to the edge, even just visible as it was out of the corner of his eye.

Windu nodded in return. “Safe travels you two. May the force with you.”

“And with you.” Anakin replied.

“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan rushed to say, after a short delay.

Master Windu turned and exited the cargo bay doors. Anakin threw out the mug in a nearby bin, pulling out a roll and biting into it before turning to face Obi-Wan. They made eye-contact, each waiting for the other to break first. Usually that would be Anakin, but he had goals now. The Knight chewed. His Master’s eyes narrowed. The older man (who may have aged significantly in the last 5 minutes) finally broke.

“Who are you?”

Anakin just sighed, maintaining the Kenobi impression. “Come on Master, we don’t want to keep the troops waiting.” With that, he walked forward, hiding his smile as Obi-Wan followed closely at his heels. 

“Since when does my apprentice visit bakeries with Mace Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.

“You’re making it sound like a bigger deal than it is.” 

Master Kenobi sputtered as the pair opened the airlock for the short-range shuttle. 

Anakin mustered up an earnest smile. “Master? Would you mind flying- I’m still eating and-”

Obi-Wan made an incoherent noise of horrified outrage before fumbling for his communicator. 

“What are you doing?”

“NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE RIGHT NOW. EITHER YOU AND MACE NEED TO GO TO THE HEALING HALLS OR I DO!”

Anakin burst out laughing. “Relax Obi-Wan, I’m messing with you, holy shit. Obviously I’m flying.”

Obi-Wan slumped into the co-pilot seat, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t do that Anakin! My nerves are stretched thin enough by the war as it is-”

“Sorry, Sorry!”

They strapped in and took off, Anakin still chuckling occasionally, Obi-Wan scowling in irritation each time. 

They ascended above the towering skyline alongside the first rays of sunlight.

“So you didn’t go to a bakery with Master Windu this morning?”

“Uhh-”

[starglow-xx]

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 2)

platonic! fukuzawa yukichi x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !! 

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

previous: part 1: meeting the greatest detective

author’s note: ages are a year younger than canon so ranpo is 25, yosano 24, kunikida & dazai 21, fukuzawa 44, you’re 19, and atsushi and the other younger members are not employed yet

and i guess slight spoilers for the untold origins of the armed detective agency but not really. it’s just a reference to it tbh

their beloved president

going to Sakura’s the next morning wasn’t what Fukuzawa had planned during his week

the reason he was dropping by was to give you money for the sweets you had given ranpo

when he had arrived back at the agency the evening before, he had made a big fuss about you and Sakura’s

he had sparked a lot of people’s interest seeing as ranpo was well invested in whoever you were and what your business was

he wouldn’t stop talking about the “cute and annoying bakery girl” who practically saved the agency simply bc she sheltered him during the rain and fed him and almost got hit by a car for him

i mean, how would the agency survive without ranpo? it was founded to make use of his intelligence and ability after all

the other agency employees exchanged looks and that’s when ranpo tiredly sighed and showed them his phone

on the screen was a contact, yours to be exact, labeled “cute bakery girl” with the note underneath reading “best follower, sweets supply & annoying little kid”

around that time, the president had stepped out of his office to see his employees huddling around ranpo and his phone

he walked over to them and asked what was going on, and seeing the president, ranpo explained what had happened with more details

“so you’re saying that a young girl, 19 years old, nearly got herself run over to shelter you from the rain, gave you food, closed her business early so you could keep talking, and when the rain stopped, she gave you a map and even more food, and even though she may have been inconvenienced, she did not ask for anything back? nor did you offer to give her anything back? even though she relies from the money she earns to survive?

“...maybe.”

after a, private chat with ranpo, fukuzawa ended up saying that he’d go take a visit to Sakura’s first thing in the morning to pay off the sweets that she’d given him by sliding an envelope of money under the door with a note

he initially told ranpo to go back right away (and to bring someone with him this time) but that ended up not pulling through bc ranpo had told him you went to retire for the evening

so yeah

there he was walking towards your bakery when he saw a small black cat with green eyes near the entrance playing with one of the potted plants outside

even though it was small, fukuzawa could tell that it wasn’t kitten due to his love of cats but the cat was still small compared to other adult cats

when he was just a couple feet away from the entrance to your bakery, the black cat took notice of him and walked his way before rubbing itself against his leg

fukuzawa let out a small smile as he bent down to pet the small creature, and the cat gladly ate up all the attention

suddenly the entrance to Sakura’s bursts open, and there you are looking back and forth frantically 

but you soon spot him and the cat and you visibly calm down

the black cat rushed to you and rubbed itself against your leg

it turns out the cat was yours, and you couldn’t find him so you panicked and rushed out the door

from there, you introduced yourself with fukuzawa doing the same

you still had about a little more than forty five minutes til Sakura’s was scheduled to open but you offered fukuzawa to come in anyways

he declined at first, but he gave in when, just how you did with ranpo the day before, you dragged him into your bakery

“you know, fukuzawa-san, this is giving me some major deja vu!”

“it’s because of ranpo i presume.”

“oh! you know ranpo-san?”

when the two of you entered, you rushed to a table and pulled out a seat for him before you disappeared off into the kitchen

just a few minutes later, you appeared with a tray with two steaming mugs, two hot plates of food, and small basket of bread

you set one mug in front of fukuzawa as well as a plate of food while you set the other mug and plate in front of the seat across from him and the basket of bread near the center by the small vase of flowers that you had for a center piece

he gave you a confused look as you sat in front of him and as your cat leaped into your lap

“ah! it’s pretty early in the morning, and you still have to go to work later, so i thought you should at least have a little something before you go. and i didn’t have breakfast yet so i thought it would be nice to have some tea with some company. and i made extras anyways!”

fukuzawa blinked before letting out a small smile and he quietly thanks you

you beam at him and as the both of you begin to eat, you ask him why he’s here this early and how he knows ranpo

with that, the silver haired man addresses your questions and explains the reason why he’s here and how he knows the brown clad male 

after explaining, fukuzawa pulls out the envelope with some money and slides it over to you

you try to reject it, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re screaming bc you know you need the money for bills and whatnot

fukuzawa wasn’t very helpful either

“so you’re saying you don’t need the money?”

“...no”

you end up accepting the money much to your inner conscience’s chagrin and to fukuzawa’s inner delight

moving on from that, for the rest of the time he was there—the last 40ish minutes or so—you rambled and talked to fukuzawa like how you did with ranpo the day prior, only this time, with a cat switching his resting point for either yours or fukuzawa’s lap

honestly, you’ve gone through so much deja vu and at this point, you’re not sure if you’re still in reality or not

sometime in your conversation, fukuzawa learned that your cat, ironically, was named lucky

apparently you found him in an alley while you were grocery shopping two weeks ago and since you took him in, you noticed that Sakura’s received a lot of new customers and that a lot of them actually ended up becoming regulars

speaking of the cat, you kept having to stop lucky from eating the food on the table

if fukuzawa was amused from your antics along with lucky’s, he was pretty good at hiding it

you: “lucky you naughty cat! i already told youuu” >:(

lucky: >:3

fukuzawa internally: :) & :D

the two of you had also became well engaged in talking about different kinds of tea, with fukuzawa even complimenting you with the tea you had made for him

it became his favorite <33

you were so happy <3

oop there’s that kid-like behavior again🤭

don’t tell ranpo🤫

scratch that he probably already knows somehow </3

speaking of which, the two of you also talked about the childish detective

it was kind of hard to tell whether or not you were admiring him <3 or insulting and complaining </3 about him lol

“so you’re the president ranpo-san was talking about huh. we talked a lot about his job yesterday! it seems quite exciting! but he talks quite a lot honestly.”

“ranpo talked a lot about you as well”

“ah really?! he can be a bit of an ass, but he really is amazing isn’t he?”

“mhmm”

through fukuzawa, you also learned how the two had first met, and this time, it was hard to tell whether you were amazed or angry at him

“awh that’s so cool!! but for someone so smart, he’s an idiot! what if he got hurt?! it was a good thing you got there huh fukuzawa-san?”

if you thought ranpo was like an older brother figure, you definitely saw fukuzawa as some sort of father figure

he noticed that you started to act like ranpo a little bit

you had developed some sort of attachment to him and when he praised you abt your tea, you had the same glow ranpo has when he gives him praise

not that fukuzawa minds

you’re just another child he’s adopting !! <33

not that either of you knew that hehe >:D

time went by pretty fast and before you knew it, there was only 10 minutes until you were scheduled to open

it was a good thing you had just finished all your prep before fukuzawa arrived

after making a promise with fukuzawa for him to come back again for some more tea, he stood up and made his way to the door as you carefully lifted lucky from your lap so you could quickly wash the dishes and to wipe the table and chairs you used

you offered some baked goods and some tea for to go but fukuzawa declined saying that you needed your supplies for your customers

as soon as you placed lucky on the wooden surface, he bolted to fukuzawa and kept on circling his legs and rubbing against him to stop him from leaving

i guess it turns out you weren’t the only one to get attached to fukuzawa

he couldn’t get even one step closer to the door without lucky reacting and running rapid circles around his legs to get him to stop moving

you didn’t know what to do and you were starting to freak out bc it was almost time to open up, but fukuzawa saved the day and offered to take lucky back with him and promised to take him back the next day

at first, like how you did with the money, you declined but ended up giving in when you saw quite a few of your morning regulars walking down the sidewalk towards Sakura’s for its opening

fukuzawa simply picked up the cat and walked out the door giving you one last wave of good bye

when they left, there was only about 5 minutes left and you rushed to finish the last minute clean up

when fukuzawa arrived at the agency (after a quick stop at home) with a cat in his grasp, let’s just say that quite a few more questions were raised

when asked about the cat, he simply answered that he was cat-sitting for a friend and ranpo knowingly smiled

but he then realized that fukuzawa arrived without any of your signature baked goods and he started complain as the rest of the agency members stared in confusion

with ranpo’s visit, they had quite a few questions, but with fukuzawa’s visit to Sakura’s, their confusion only grew a whole lot more and will continue to keep growing

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[fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan]

A Lie to Love - Nathan MacKinnon

This is for @antoineroussel Summer Fic Exchange. I had the wonderful @broadstbroskis!

I had so much fun writing this fic and reading everyone else's work, I love getting to see so many great writers sharing their work on this site. This is also one of the longest pieces I have written in a very long time, as I was writing this I had a million other fic ideas pop in my head so many those will get written some time soon.

***

I just sat down on my couch, just getting home from work when someone started knocking on my apartment door. I was hoping to ignore it and it would go away, unfortunately they kept knocking. I groaned as I got up, decided how much I was going to curse this person out. “What-” Right behind the door was Nate, giving me a nervous smile.

I had met Nate through his teammate Gabe, I babysat for Gabe and Melissa on a regular basis. Nate showed up one night that I was watching their daughter looking for advice from Melissa. I was able to help him then he hung out with me until Gabe and Melissa came home. Since then I could expect him to show up at my apartment at least once a week for dinner, and we were close friends after I had to save him from a laundry emergency that first night I met him.

“I’m so glad you’re home. I need a huge favor.” Leaving the door open I headed back towards my couch, I knew Nate would follow me and close the door behind him. Once I was sitting on the couch again Nate pulled my legs onto his lap.

“Last time you asked for a favor I ended up with the flu.” Which was true, he had asked me to help out at a learn to skate event that was outside in December. It had been a cold and foggy day, and two days later I was down for the count.

“I brought you soup! And tissues for we left for that road trip.”

“You brought me one box of tissues and two cans of tomato soup.” Nate raised an eyebrow like I had proven his point. I threw a pillow at his head before speaking again. “I’m allergic to tomatoes!”

“Oh, I’m an idiot. Sorry. But I still need a favor.” I really wanted to just say no, ask Nate to leave and go to sleep until I had to go into the office tomorrow. But I knew I was going to say yes before I even found out what he needed. “Please Ruth.”

“What is this favor?”

“I need you to be my fake girlfriend.”

“That was not what I was expecting you to say.” That got a small chuckle out of Nate but he also looked nervous. “Why do you need a fake girlfriend?” Nate was in a ‘single and loving it’ stage of life, he just wanted to play hockey and hang out with his teammates.

“An executive on the team has been talking up his daughter for like the last two years. I’ve been able to brush off the hints he has been throwing at me, luckily she doesn’t live here. Today he came up to me when I was heading out for the day, talking about how his daughter is coming into town and how we should get dinner together so I can get to know her. I thought I could brush it off as a one off dinner, say we there was no connection and then she would be gone. Easy, ya know?”

“Not really. But continue.”

“Apparently this isn’t just a visit for her, she is moving here. And going to work for the team on the social media team.”

“That must have ruined your plan.” Nate nodded and I knew I was going to agree to his crazy plan. “So how did all this lead to me needing to be your fake girlfriend?”

“I panicked and said I had a girlfriend.”

“And I’m the only girl you hang out with that isn’t related to you or in a relationship with a teammate.”

“You are also one of my best friends and the one person I trust every part of my life with. I know this is a lot to ask, I know this is bigger than asking you to help with a skating event. This is a change to every part of your life, and lying to a lot of people.”

“I’ll do it.” Nate’s jaw actually dropped like he couldn’t believe I was agreeing to do it. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Thank you, thank you so much. I know this is a huge ask, I really do.”

“Before we talk about details, I need food and wine. Not necessarily in that order.” I ordered food and pulled out the biggest wine glass I had. As we waited for the food, we came up with a plan and story to tell everyone. We decided to stick with the cliche story of best friends who decided to fall for each other.

“Um, what about kissing? And other PDA?” Nate’s cheeks flushed as he asked the question and I knew it wasn’t from the wine. “I don’t want to do anything you are uncomfortable with.”

“Let’s just start with hand holding and that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” Our food was delivered then, Nate going to the door and coming back with the bags of food.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it, you can think about it like this is our first date.” I nod and start eating once we decided on something to watch. This felt normal for us, eating take out and watching whatever hockey game Nate was able to find. After we finished eating Nate helped me clean everything up before he got ready to leave. I walked him to the door, hugging him tightly as he let out a sigh of relief. “I don’t think I will ever be able to repay you for doing this. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t worry about it Nate, I’ll always be there when you need me.” I closed the door behind him, hoping that I wouldn’t regret agreeing to fake date my best friend.

Nate’s pov

I had been ignoring my phone since I pulled into the parking lot at Ruth’s apartment building, knowing that asking Ruth to do this would make or break our friendship. When I left her apartment I was hopeful that this wouldn’t be the end of our friendship. But I also knew it was only going to make my feelings for her grow. I realized within a month of knowing Ruth that I had feelings for her, and I had almost told her a dozen times a year since then.

I checked my phone when I got home, I had four missed phone calls from my captain and nearly a dozen texts. I skipped over looking at all the messages and just called him. “Nate, why did I hear you say that you are dating someone? Mel has been questioning me since this afternoon because she heard you say to someone that you are in a relationship. She is pissed that I didn’t tell her about it. Which is hard to do considering I had no clue.”

Before I could answer I heard Mel’s voice. “MacKinnon, you better tell me who you are dating.”

“Uh, Ruth-” There was a loud squeal on the other end of the call and then I heard Landy trying to shush his wife.

“When were you going to tell us this?” Gabe asked after it got quiet. I wanted to tell them the truth, we had talked about it. We eventually decided that we wouldn’t tell them the truth because Gabe was the worst gossiper on the team.

“It’s only been about a month, we wanted to make sure this was going to work before we shared it with anyone. We wanted to wait even longer but one of the executives was trying to set me up with his daughter.”

“Alright. I guess that is enough information from now. We can always ask more questions at that fundraiser on Friday night.”

“Oh shit.” That caused Gabe to laugh at me.

“You didn’t tell her about that yet?”

“No, we weren’t going public yet so I figured that I would just go by myself. But I guess I need to tell her about that now and see if she is willing to come with me.”

“That is a big first outing, good luck with that buddy.” Gabe hung up and I knew that I needed to tell Ruth about Friday but when I left she had mentioned she was going to crash as soon as I left. I figured I should go to bed now and deal with everything tomorrow.

***

I was getting ready to knock on Ruth’s door when it flew open and Ruth was standing there looking shocked. “Nate! What are you doing here?” Her eyes then looked at the coffee cup I was holding, one that I had brought for her. “Oh, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You only ever bring me my favorite coffee order when you have bad news.”

“I-Landy reminded me last night that we have a black tie fundraiser on Friday night.”

“And now that our supposed relationship is public, you are expected to bring your girlfriend with you.”

“Yeah. I am sorry, I never meant to make your life this complicated.” Ruth took the coffee from me, taking a sip before locking her door.

“I know what I signed up for Nate. I need to get to work, walk with me to my car.” I followed her through the hall of her apartment, waiting for her to yell at me. “What is this fundraiser for? And what kind of dress do I need?”

“It’s for the children’s hospital. We do it every year, they book a huge ballroom and it’s a lot of rich people. The Avs don’t run this fundraiser but all the sports teams in town donate a bunch of stuff to them to auction off and the team likes us to go so the people are more willing to open their wallets.”

“And yet that doesn’t tell me what kind of dress I need, or what time this thing is. Or any of the other million things I need to know to get ready for this thing.”

“I’m not sure about any of this, every year I go by myself. I can have Mel call you?”

“That sounds good. I have to go now, I have a project that was assigned to me yesterday that is way behind schedule. So thank you for the coffee and I’ll see you later.” I watched as she got into her car and drove away.

Ruth’s pov

By the time lunch came around I was buried under a pile of work, I hoped that if I could work through lunch and stay a little late every day this week that I would be caught up by the end of the week so I could focus on the lie at this fundraiser. So when I saw that Melissa was calling me I knew my plan was about to be derailed. “Hey Melissa.”

“I am going to ignore the fact that you didn’t tell me about you and Nate. And I am also going to save all of my questions for later, Nate told me that you need a dress for Friday. I can be at your office in 10 minutes, we can go shopping during your lunch hour.”

“I am so behind on a project that was just given to me this morning and it was already so far behind because the guy who was incharge of it before me was an idiot. I don’t have time to take a lunch break this week.”

“But Nate gave me his card to buy your dress with.” I knew I would regret what I was about to say but I didn’t have another option.

“If I tell you what size I wear, can you just get me something?”

“Absolutely!”

“Thank you. As much fun as I think shopping with you would be, I just can’t leave right now.”

“I get it. Send me a text with your sizes and I’ll find you the perfect dress.”

“Because my brain is a mess right now, I wasn’t supposed to babysit on Friday right?”

“No, my parents are in town this week. They are watching the kids. There is no way you are getting out of this event.” A part of me was hoping that I would have that as an excuse to not go but with that option gone I started to mentally prepare myself for Friday night.

***

“Thank you for letting me get ready here.” I said to Nate as he let me into his house. “And thank you for letting me crash here tonight.”

“Of course, it makes more sense this way. I also have your dress, Mel wouldn’t let me look at it when she dropped it off on Tuesday. I figured you can use my room to get ready, it has more counter space for whatever you need.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your bedroom and bathroom.”

“It’s not kicking me out when I volunteer to use the guest room. C’mon, let me carry your bag.”

“How long until we need to leave?”

“I have an Uber scheduled for 75 minutes from now.” I nod, knowing that I could make that work without having to rush too much. Once Nate headed into the guest room I started to unpack what I would need for now. Grabbing a towel before going to figure out the shower, which was far more high tech than anything I had ever seen in a shower before. I wrapped the towel around myself and went to find Nate. “Nate?! How do I work your futuristic shower?” I only stuck my head out in the hall to yell and luckily he heard me from the guest room he was in. A few seconds later he came out in only a loose pair of shorts, laughing at me. “Don’t laugh at me, your shower has a computer screen!” I opened the bedroom door so he could come in, watching his eyes widen when I saw I was only wearing a towel. As he came in to turn the shower on for me I took the time to look over him. When he turned to show me how to change the temperature and turn it off I knew he caught me checking him out. Nate was such a beautiful person, inside and out. I knew that fake dating Nate had the potential for my true feelings to come out and I was trying to convince myself that this wouldn’t end with the death of our friendship.

“Need anything else?”

“Nope.”

Nate’s pov

It took every ounce of willpower to not kiss Ruth when I saw her standing in my bedroom in just a towel, and then when I caught her checking me out I was really tempted to tell her the truth. I knew that this fake dating would just cause more pain for me but there was nothing I could do about that now. I took a colder shower than I had originally been planning to take but after that was done I got my suit on, just a dark grey suit so that hopefully I wouldn’t clash with whatever Ruth was wearing.

Just as I finished getting my shoes on there was a knock on my door. I opened it and was immediately speechless. The deep green dress looked amazing on her and I am pretty sure that my jaw was on the floor. As she moved in the dress I saw the large slit on the one side that showed a lot of her leg. “Can you zip my dress?”

“Y-yeah.” Ruth turned so her back was to me, pulling her hair to the side so I could tug up the zipper before whispering. “Perfect.”

“I should be ready in just a few minutes.”

“Yeah, I just need to come grab a tie. I wanted to wait until I saw what color your dress was.” Ruth nodded as we both heard into my bedroom, I headed straight for my closet and by the time I came out with my tie on Ruth was standing at the end of my bed smiling. “You look amazing.”

“You do too.” I walked over to Ruth, both of us looking at our reflection in the mirror. “We make a good looking couple.”

“I don’t think I can do this.” I froze after those words came out of my mouth, Ruth looking at me with wide eyes.

“O-okay, um, I’ll go grab my stuff and get out of your hair.” Ruth went to turn and walk away from me, but I gently turned her around so I could tell her the truth.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” I cupped Ruth’s cheek, locking eyes with her. “I have had feelings for you for so long. Probably since a month after I met you but I was scared to tell you. And then we became friends and I didn’t want to make things weird, so I kept it a secret. But I also fell for you more as we became closer friends. So I think a part of me decided to say I was dating someone because I want to be dating you. For real.” Ruth didn’t say anything, just took a step closer and pressed her lips to mine. “I, what just happened?”

“Everything you just told me, I feel the same way.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now kiss me for real.” That I could do, I kissed Ruth like I had wanted to do for years. We only stopped kissing when a car horn sounded in my driveway. “I think I need to fix my lipstick.”

“I would say sorry but I’m not. I’ll go to the car if you want to fix your lipstick.” Ruth nodded, stepping back while smiling at me. “Just so you know, this isn’t our first date. I will be planning that for next week and it is going to knock your socks off.”

“As long as you are there, I can’t wait.” I kissed Ruth one more time before healing downstairs to tell the driver we were almost ready. I also couldn’t keep the smile off of my face, I couldn’t believe what started out as a panicked lie turned into a chance to date my best friend for real.

[bigskydreaming]

I kinda wanna fucking scream, so here, have a offline bullshit rant post.

So I’ve literally been trying to get my stupid fucking meds for over a MONTH now at this point, which I’m sure you can all see like, my mood is just wooooonderful these days. Not an excuse, casual reminder that yeah you do gotta take care of your own space so if my mood is dragging anyone down, I’m totes on board with blocking or unfollowing or y’know, burning me in effigy or something. Okay maybe not that last part. But still. You get it. And its not even that like, I need mood stabilizers per se, lol, so shout out to the armchair diagnosticians helpfully peppering my inbox still in their quest to oh so slickly be like ‘hey you’re a hot mess, take your hot messness away from tumblr’ like lol, didn’t ask.....nah, its mostly the perpetual lack of sleep and chronic pain issues that I have zero distraction from when my specific combo of meds isn’t able to let me actually weaponize my ADHD properly and power through that. Its a whole thing. Whatever. Just go with it.

POINT IS. So I’ve been trying to do this for over a month now, first obstacle was even just getting the money together for my refill appointment which is a whopping $150, because I have to pay out of pocket for mental health stuff these days because I had to switch my insurance over to something that paid out more heavily for physical benefits like my jaw surgery.....and because of the pandemic, and how many psychiatrists in my area and that I could actually reach aren’t taking new patients during the pandemic since most of them are conducting business virtually still, like, I have barely any resources for seeking out and trying new psychiatrist offices in the meanwhile that might charge less and I’m kinda stuck with the one I have because the last thing I can afford is to have like, NO psychiatrist at the moment, y’know?

So first I had to have that to even BOOK the appointment, which took forever because rent and food are a joy to accrue when you can barely manage to function as an actual employee of the capitalist machine ahfsklhflkahflakf, but so then I did that and like, got an appointment put on the books for August 19th. That was the soonest they could fit me in back when I paid them for my appointment about a week and a half ago. No, two weeks ago now? Eh, time is fake. ANYWAY, so that wasn’t gonna work for me, so basically the entirety of last week was devoted to constantly calling and trying to check in every other hour to see if they had any sooner cancellations I could take, because for whatever fucking reason, they just ‘don’t do’ a cancellation list wherein they call the next person on the list once they have a cancellation. Whatever.

So finally got a cancellation slot with a virtual appointment last Saturday night at random as fuck 8:40. Okay cool. Most of my refills are fairly simple, no real changes, but two are controlled substances so like, they have to do their due diligence and go through the proper protocols before giving me another prescription to one or whatever. Fine. Okay.

So I call the CVS they sent the prescription for my ADHD med to, the very next morning. One of the controlled substances, and the key med to like....making me functional instead of a rambling disjointed whirlibird of a thought emitter. Problem is, that medication is on back order. Won’t be in until Tuesday. Ugh. Okay, fine. Nothing I can do about it, because while the specific provider I spoke to in order to GET my refill prescriptions was taking an appointment the night before, the actual offices that schedule appointments and connect patients through to their providers was closed for the weekend, so I couldn’t even ask for them to send the scrip somewhere else.

SO. I go back to the CVS on Monday, hoping that maybe it came in early because not like I can do much else in the meanwhile. Course its not there, but oh well. I toy with the idea of calling to ask my provider to send the scrip to a different pharmacy (only had it sent to this one cuz its within walking distance to me, and since I can’t drive for medical reasons and Uber’s are expensive as fuck, just for errands, like, even though walking is sooooo not fun for me physically, like it is what it is). I decide against it because here’s another fun fact about this controlled substance....for security reasons, pharmacies don’t have to tell people over the phone if they have it in stock or not. Like, they won’t just say no we don’t have it in stock - I mean, they WILL say that, but that doesn’t actually mean anything because that’s what most of them say about that particular medication no matter whether or not they DO, and then just cite security protocols, so you have to actually GO to the store in question to ask them and even get a real answer to whether or not they even HAVE it in stock to FILL a prescription if its sent over. And no, the provider won’t just send scrips into several different pharmacies at once and just be whichever has it in stock can fill it - because again, controlled substance.

SO. I decide its not worth it to try getting the scrip sent over somewhere else, because I’d have to at least waste money on an Uber to even travel to various pharmacies and even check if they CAN fill it sooner than this one, when at least this place will have it in tomorrow. Its just one more day at this point.

Except then I go back on Tuesday. Oh sorry, don’t know why that other person told you we’d have our order in today, our shipments of that medication don’t come in until Wednesdays.

So I go back Wednesday. Success! They have it in stock. I go to pay, pulling out my goodRx coupon that was just printed out that morning, specifically citing the price for CVS at Target. The pharmacy manager says sorry, we don’t honor that coupon here for controlled substances like this one. I say: record scratch? He’s like yeah, that’s at the discretion of individual pharmacies, and we don’t honor that price for this specific medication, because we don’t want to attract customers only coming here to get that medication filled for that price. (This pharmacy is right at the edge of Inglewood and Culver City, for anyone who is familiar with those neighborhoods. The implications are exactly as they appear to be). So I’m like, what’s the regular generic price? He quotes me something that’s $180 more than the coupon, and thus $180 more than I have since I was focused totally on getting THIS amount ASAP, so I could get these meds so I could do more work and make more money. You see the train of thought. I’m like well that’s awesome, I don’t have anything close to that. Hey. Weird question. Why did nobody I talked to the past three days in a row that I’ve walked into this store in person to request this refill, like, mention this little tidbit about not honoring this coupon so instead of waiting for a backorder that would do me no good, I could have been spending that time having my prescription transferred somewhere that WOULD honor it?

He’s like, well did you mention to any of them that you’d be using a goodRx coupon for this particular medication? I said, yup. He said, you sure? I said well the specific process each time was I came in, I asked if this medication was in, they said what’s your name and date of birth, I provided that info, they said are you paying out of pocket, we don’t have valid insurance info for this on file for you, I said yup paying out of pocket with a goodRx coupon, they said *clickety clack of the keyboard* nope, sorry, we won’t have this medicine in until Tuesday, I mean Wednesday. 

He’s like, well you must be misremembering or they would have told you at the time that we don’t take GoodRx coupons on this medication. I’m like, dude, it was you. It was literally you that I spoke to two of those three times, right here at the counter, in person. I’m gonna go ahead and trust my memory of those interactions and what was said there over yours since you don’t actually remember having talked to me two times in the last three days. He’s like, I gotta go help another customer. There is no other customer. I leave. Fun day for everyone.

So then I call around town to at least check which CVS will actually honor the coupon I have and the price that I can afford to pay it at. I don’t bother asking if they even have the medication in stock because I know its not guaranteed to be a CORRECT answer, but at least I can see who accepts this damn coupon. Also, reason I’m only trying big brand pharmacies instead of smaller, hole in the wall ones is because again, controlled substance, and I know from experience that the bigger brand pharmacies are at least more likely to have that med in stock whereas most smaller ones tend to run out very quickly as they usually only get enough for their existing/regular customers and a little extra.

I find a CVS five miles away - not walkable, gonna have to Uber. Call my psychiatrist office again to ask them to transfer the scrip, front office says they’ll send the request to my provider, who usually checks and fulfills such requests in 24-48 hours. I’m like okay cool, can I get a phone call to let me know when that happens, so at least I know when to check back to follow up if it hasn’t happened yet for whatever reason? They’re like no, the pharmacy will send you a text or call when they get the prescription sent over and you can take it from there with them. I’m like okay, but I’ve done this a bunch of times and know from experience the pharmacy does NOT in fact always call or text, so is there a certain time to follow up to inquire if the provider has already sent the scrip and the pharmacy SHOULD have it by now or if the delay is on the provider’s end? Front office is like yeah no. I’m like, swell.

So that was yesterday. I call the pharmacy (which I still don’t even know if they have the medication IN STOCK to fill the scrip even once they GET the scrip, and won’t until I can actually Uber out there, but one thing at a time at this point) at like 9 pm, they’re a 24 hour pharmacy, and they’re like nope, we got nothing (this is after spending an hour and a half on hold to even TALK to someone at the pharmacy). Called them again today at noon, still nada. Technically I have another 29 hours before the window in which the provider is supposed to send the refill scrip to this new location, before I can be like, okay so they still haven’t done it, can we send him a nudge or another request. The 24-48 hour window will only actually EXPIRE after their offices close on Friday meaning it’ll be Monday before I can even actually REACH someone again to ask them to send the scrip again, if the pharmacy hasn’t ACTUALLY gotten it by Friday night, and pessimistically, I’m not super inclined to assume that they will at this point. 

I’m antsy, irritable, hungry because I don’t even know for SURE sure if the new pharmacy will ACTUALLY honor the coupon or say no sorry we don’t do that here either, whoever told you that was wrong, or if they’ll even actually have it in stock versus I’ll have to have it sent somewhere else AGAIN, so I have to pinch every penny possible in order to ensure I have the most money possible once my prescription IS filled in case the price is more than I expected again or in case I have to take Ubers there or further than I expected or basically....shit happens that I don’t expect. And this is what I’m basically spending all my time doing instead of working, because trying to get work done in this state is like....the harder I try to make it happen, the less it actually gets done, so I try and prioritize this and its roadblock after roadblock dragging out and wasting my time, and like yeah, I can post and shit while I’m doing this aka sitting on hold or walking around town trying to get shit filled because its fine if I ramble incoherently along the way in posts, but actual WORK work requires like....fucking coherency and succinctness and not having to stop and start every five minutes to call someone else, and oh yeah, being able to power through migraine spikes. And just.

I’m very annoyed about anything and everything to do with this shit. The hoops you have to jump through to even get the stuff that like....actualizes your hoop jumping ability, is just....*gnashing of teeth*

Anyway. So that’s my offline bullshit rant. Yay. The end.