#but then i can get a decent job and get a house with a garage and a patio where i can garden

[orcelito]

1 more day here and then I'm gonna be heading back up to my apartment for the first time in over 2 weeks. Haven't stayed there since this all began. I've grown a bit of a routine here, and I'll be right back to my apartment, but without the prior norms of it.

It's home though. It's home.

I'll have to do a ton of cleaning and rearranging tho to try to fit as much of my father's furniture within my apartment. My apartment is so small and the furnitures so many. I'm determined tho. I'm gonna fit as much as I can. Took measurements today even of all the things I wanna take, so I can puzzle it out as I go.

I. Also. Need to bring June to the vet. Bc she's got worms. Lol. Lmao even. I am trying to not think about it rn.

[artsninspo]

FORGIVELESS - III - GIVE A FUCK 'BOUT WHAT YOU PREFER🥀

Full Masterlist

RIO MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

II - GIVE A FUCK 'BOUT WHAT YOU PREFER🥀

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~2.6K

Warning: NSFW, mature themes & 🌶️ 🌶️

Summary: Confronted with the realities of your actions you have to deal with the aftermath of your choices, what you want and what will be.

You breathe fresh air for what feels like the first time and smile as you have a reverie of the time you had with Rio last night and the kiss you shared before getting out of his car and into yours. You can still feel the effects of Rio all over you. Your husband had never done anything like that. It was your first time being fucked. It had started as a bid for revenge and ended in delirium. No guilt creeped into your consciousness. It felt like that was a drop in the bucket. Your phone reads that it's 10:00 am, sighing as you look up at the door leading into your home.  It's the last place you want to be right now. A reminder of your joke of a marriage and your lying piece of shit husband. You feel a headache coming in when you mull over your options. Your reluctance to blow up the relationship is caused by a variety of reasons. First you’d have to tell your family and admit it to someone apart from Rio. They’d pity you and you'd be the topic of too many discussions. You’d have to move back in with your mom for a while and deal with a few months of counselling before a divorce.

You're in the middle of your decision when the door connecting the house to the garage swings open. Your mouth gapes at the sight of a visibly upset James.

“Where the hell have you been?” He snaps coming to the car. “I called you about fifty fucking times!” he snaps glaring at you as you walk out of the car. He scans you looking for a clue to what's up.

You sigh heading into the house “Relax James, I spent the night at the Spa.”

He frowns now even more peeved. He didn’t remember a time where it was James and not babe, baby, bae, love, honey or all the other plethora of pet names you used as endearment. “James?”

You look over at him.“That’s your name isn't it?”

“You never call me that!” He snaps.

“Well then don't curse at me when I pull into the garage!” you shout heading up the stairs.

“I was about to call the police. If you decide to stay the night at the spa you call it the decent thing to do so I know where my WIFE is” he says making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. How dare he throw around the word WIFE so carelessly when he treated you as an afterthought regularly. You cast him a disgusted look over your shoulder.

“I’m here now, so relax!” you shout heading to your office. Your patience for him and his inquisition is wearing thin.

“I called a few times,” he continues.

“My phone was on DND. I didn't think you’d be calling. You usually don't when you're on the job. I figured you wouldn't even be home before me. How was work?” you comment throwing the ball back in his court.

“Good, you know, same old same old” he shrugs.

“More late nights? What about that retreat you were supposed to go on?” you ask hoping he’ll be out of your hair long enough for you to make a decision.

“The trip is likely, want to come with me?” His offer is a surprise. After months of pleading for attention the day after you step out he concedes.

“I don’t think so, it’s going to be winter soon and the changing climates back and forth confuses my immune system” you shrug, declining the opportunity. You're done with chasing him around. The sound of metal on granite gets your attention and you see your wedding and engagement bands. Now it makes sense. His demeanour, sudden interest and questions. When you left yesterday you hadn’t quite made up your mind. 

“Why weren’t you wearing your rings?” He asks with some audacity.

“Are you serious?” You scoff. “When you go to the spa they have all these oils and stuff and they have you take off your rings for a hand massage.” You lie.

“You shouldn’t be anywhere without them” he says with no reason to distrust you except for his own guilty conscience.

“Can you have them cleaned?” You ask not rushing to put them back on.

“Yeah I can. I’m off today, we should do something. Maybe look for that puppy you were talking about?” He offers on edge.

“I have to study for my certification, maybe we can go out for dinner?” You smile to appease him.

“I told you a million times you don’t need to work” he says. “When we have kids-” he says and your reaction is visceral. You regret not having someone fuck him up. How dare he step out and take part in an affair then talk to you about kids.

“What was that?” James asks.

“You’re never home but you want kids? And we haven’t discussed it in a few years” you snap.

“So now you don’t wear your rings or want to have my kids” He’s wounded by reality.

“I told you why I wasn’t wearing the rings. And no I don’t want to think about having kids with your schedule” or ever. You snap, omitting the final thoughts.

He scoffs. “Now I’m thinking you weren’t wearing your rings on purpose.” 

“James, think whatever you want and don’t talk to me about kids until you can commit to being home.” You snap walking away from him.

I’m gonna need round two with your 🐱

Rio

You smile at the message locking your phone and making the mental note to change his name in your contacts. You’re standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom when James emerges placing your rings on the vanity as he takes a seat in the corner of the bathroom. You put on the rings ignoring him.

“Didn’t realise you were so unhappy” he comments.

“That makes you a shitty husband” you remark.

“Now I’m shitty” he sits forward.

“Yeah, you’re never home and then you accuse me of not wearing my rings with other implications. Then try to talk about starting a family.” you double down.

“Babe,” he says. “You come in at 10 am, I see your rings on your nightstand and you’re not answering my calls” he states.

“I already told you the truth. There’s no logical reason for me to leave my rings or not answer your calls” you deflect giving him an opportunity to be honest. He pauses for a second, his guilt creeping in. His silence is affirming and you turn back to your computer.

“You haven’t greeted me or kissed me good morning” he adds.

“You’re implying I have something to hide. I don’t want to kiss you” you respond without looking away.

“Can we go out tonight?”

“No” you respond. It’s totally unlike you. It takes everything in you not to let the cat out of the bag. Not to explode about him screwing another woman for six months according to your calculations. Not to throw your indiscretions in his face, to scorn him further. You do your best to show restraint to keep your life intact at least for now.

 ….

You complete your stretches and sit up checking your phone only to see a goodmorning message from James, it’s a rarity as was the kiss he placed on your cheek in the morning. Scrolling past that notification you stop at the one notification from the person you want. Rio.

I’ll be there by the time the class ends.

Ria

You smile seeing the message from Rio although you've changed his name to something less conspicuous on your phone. It’s been almost a week since your last rendezvous. James has been breathing down your neck more attentively than ever since you left your rings at home and spent the night elsewhere. There’s been no time to talk or reconnect with Rio as much as you want to. James has been talking about the future more too and trying to initiate intimacy much to your disdain. After being ignored for so long you're not excited by his renewed interest isn’t exciting - it’s manipulative.

Finished freshening up from your yoga session you get a call and see it's James. Your heart wants to send him to voicemail but if you want more time before making a decision you know you have to answer. 

“Hey baby” you smile, sounding excited. It's a ruse, the same one you’ve been employing to buy back your invisibility.

“Hey baby, how was class?” James asks.

“Good, are you expecting a package or something?” You respond.

“I have to be expecting a package to call my wife?” he says like he has been the past few days.

“No, you're just usually busy. I don't get midday check ins so I was thinking something was wrong” you explain.

“That's gonna change, I love you and I want you to know I always have time for you” he says trying to be sweet, you gag internally.

“Mhm” you respond grabbing your bag only to turn to see Rio has slipped into the private change room facility.

“Mhm, what?” James asks, trying to elicit flirtation. You motion your on the phone to Rio but that doesn't make him hesitate he crowds your space taking two handfuls of ass and leaning down to kiss you.

“I’ll see you when you get home, we can talk then” you say.

“Alright, I love you” James says as you look into Rio's eyes.

“Love you” you respond, hanging up and Rio smiles.

“That’s messed up” Rio comments, deepening the kiss. You shrug your shoulders and Rio chuckles. “This is about to be more messed up,” he adds. “Why is he still calling and telling you he loves you” Rio probes.

“Because he doesn't know what I did” you respond.

“When are you gonna tell him?” Rio asks lifting your dress.

“I don’t know yet” you admit as he sets you on one of the changing room counters. You know what he's about to do and smile.

“Well I need some good pussy, don't let him keep you from me” Rio says getting a condom from his pocket. He takes no time at all lining up his manhood with your entrance. Youre ready to accept and he’s the perfect fit as he slides in. you moan in pleasure closing your eyes, thankful for what's to come. You keep quiet as much as possible holding Rio close as he drills you lustfully. His kiss is possessive and wanton, keeping you needy. “Like that?” he whispers in your ear.

“Mhhhm” you gasp trying to keep quiet while in public.

“Tell me you love this dick” he says as you switch positions and he drills you from behind.

“I love it” you say without question it's been too long. You’ve never been this spontaneous or reckless. 

“Fuck” he groans close. Holding onto the counter you brace for his thrust embracing every second. Being wanted to the point of no restraining is so sexy and so sensual after being deprived of that experience. Rio places a kiss on your shoulder and you turn to kiss him again, throwing it back to add to the impact. He groans and the slapping of skin gets a little loud. His body stiffens just as you feel the rush of an orgasm he gets his. He leaves it in for a few minutes as you allow him to catch his breath. Hardly stated he leaves you and you groan at the loss of contact. When you turn away he’s back in his pants looking at you like he needs more rounds. Wrapping your hands around his neck you bring his head down to yours happy for the genuine affection.

“Thank you” you mutter as he gives you another kiss. Rio couldn't think of a better deal, sex with no strings and with a woman that thanked him instead of blowing up his phone. What the fuck was James thinking cheating on this kind of a woman.

“No problem, call me anytime” he jokes with a smile as you readjust your clothes. You find him looking at you in the mirror as you review your appearance.

“What?” you ask.

“Come see me at the club tonight for round two” Rio says needing more of you. He couldn't stop thinking about you. You had him rubbing out orgasms, something he hadn't done in over a decade. He didn't need to. Women readily made themselves available to his needs.

“Can’t James’ has been all over me lately. I give it another week before he levels out.” you explain.

Rio shrugs. “Fuck James”

“Exactly, but I can't meet you tonight. I’ll figure something out” you promise.

“I don't like that shit” Rio comments ready for round two right now.

“Don't kill the high you just gave me.” You pout looking up at him.

“I need more than twenty minutes with you, basically fully dressed. I need you naked so I can enjoy you, and I need it more than once.” He states candidly giving you butterflies.

“I want that too, give me two days” you ask, rubbing his head.

“Two days or I pop up.” he warns.

“Deal” you agree.

You leave the yoga studio with everyone none the wiser of your indiscretions. Rio walks you to your car and watches you drive away. He didn't like having to wait on another man's timeline. It was a new experience and one he didn't particularly enjoy.

When James gets home he finds you dancing around to music with your headphones on. You're wearing a healthy glow and he puts his bag down getting behind you. You jump out of his reach terrified until you realise it's him. Hand to heart you catch your breath. It’s another hit to his ego when you don't come back to him.

“You're home early” you remark instead. “I haven't finished dinner”

“We can go out” he offers with a smile.

“I’m on a meal plan don't you remember?” you ask gaslighting him.

“So what can we do together?” he asks, frustrated.

“Is spending time with her here so bad?” you ask.

“We could have a bath together, you like that” he offers.

“James” you roll your eyes and he takes a deep breath.

“What?” he says and you know he’s worn thin.

“No, I just don't want to take a bath with you.” you refuse him again.

“Why not?!” he asks.

“We haven't been together in months” you remind him of his doing. “It’s had benefits with my yoga practice and I’m exploring it still” you lie to him like he’s been lying to you flagrant and apologetic. 

“How can you make that kind of decision without me?”

“James, you’ve been working and had no time to touch me before I found purpose in it”

“You're bullshitting me right now”

“Why is it that I respect you and you question me?” you ask and he sighs. His phone rings and he silences it only for the sequence to repeat a few more times. You check the time.

“It’s probably Japan” you suggest and his eyes bug out. Your eyes hold him without implication that you know and he loses his confidence answering as he walks away. His phone goes off for the remainder of the night and you sleep peacefully with dreams of Rio. James sleeps recklessly tossing and turning because his wife doesnt want to be touched and his sidepiece needs attention. He feels crazy and stressed exactly how he should feel while you sleep, still guilt free. Still going to do as you please, to hell with what James prefers.

Author's note: THX for reading, reblog, comment, vote. Let me know what you think James and Rio's next moves are 💖

NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: @meadows5 @wnbweasley

[everythingne]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ wing damage ch 3 (mv1)

Australia ends up hotter than expected when Nadine finds herself in a mess of unwanted feelings left over from her fun night in Monaco. Max isn't too confused about how he feels, he just knows he shouldn't be feeling it.

halliwell!reader x max verstappen / fc : sophia la corte

warnings/notes: I UPDATED THE PAST CHAPTERS. PLEASE READ THOSE BEFORE THIS!! holy fuck i finally got this out? yippee!! pretty chill chapter compared to the last few. mentions of alcohol,weird flirting, overprotective max

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, charles.leclerc, and 450k more...

nadinehalliwell: bring ur eldest daughter to work day (australia edition)

user1: we love and support the halliwells in this house ‼️

user2: literally redbull royalty.

gerihalliwell: My good luck charm!! Looking beautiful.

⤷ nadinehalliwell: ily mama ♥️

monanotlisa: AAAAA SEXY!!! LOVE UUUU COME BACK TO MONACO SOON ♥️‼️‼️

⤷ nadinehalliwell: if u let me drive the porsche i’ll be back asap.

⤷ monanotlisa: ur such a whore for a porsche 911

⤷ nadinehalliwell: ITS A BABY PINK PORSCHE 911 GT3 WITH WHITE INTERIORS. EVERYONES A SLUT FOR IT.

allycameragirl: OMGGG 😭 BACK ON THE TRACK BABYYY ‼️‼️ SEE YOU IN AUSTINNN!!!

⤷ thenadinehorner: CANT WAIT MY LOVE ♥️♥️♥️

Australia is hot. Blazing hot. I've decided for the next several months to spend time with my mother and sisters, travelling the world and distancing myself from the hell that is home for a bit. Even with my roommates at home with me, my apartment in Monaco doesn't feel like a home.

Ally's not home half the time, too busy being a bit shot movie producer, and Mona's got a huge job lined up. We're never home together anyways. Even though we all love each other to bits, we're all living such different lives. Maybe we should just go our own ways again.

It was nice to live together even for a bit, though.

Dipping into the garage, I pass Checo and give him a fist bump before finding Max and whack his shoulder. GP laughs softly as I dramatically drape myself across Max's back, popping my head atop his as he huffs.

"How's it going, Mad Max?" I muse, "New racing strats?"

I can hear the grin in Max's voice as he says, "Nothing I'm telling you, paddock princess."

"Paddock princess? Excuse me, do I look like George Russell?" I huff, which gets a full body laugh from GP and a decent one from Max as I pry myself off his back and come to just sit next to him like a normal person.

"What's the occasion for the dress? Just the paddock fashion?" Max looks up and down the pink sundress I'm wearing and I perk up, happily blabbing on about how I'd bought the dress in Sydney a few days before the race and wanted something to wear to the race and the part tonight.

"What party?" Max asks, leaning over to fix a hair thats gotten stubbornly stuck to my earring.

"My mom is having a yacht party tonight for all the teams to celebrate the beginning of the season. She couldn't do it in Saudi or Bahrain because of how busy we all were." I look at the notes Max is focused on reading, even though they make little sense to me. GP excuses himself to speak with Hannah, leaving Max and I alone in the little outcove of the garage.

"Ah." Max sighs as a mechanic moves past, tossing a helmet to his colleague as they set up to do some sort of extraction training. Max catches my attention as he says, "and I take it I'm set to attend this?"

"Of course you are. My mom would be devastated without her 'eldest son' there, right?" I lean over to peck a kiss on his cheek as I stand up and brush off my dress as if it'll have anything on it, "gotta run off and find my mom, I'm helping her with media."

"Good luck." Max smiles to me and I can't help the grin that finds my lips as I whisper back the same words and rush down the garage hall to hide the blush that threatens to run up my chest to my face.

There's no fucking way I'm letting this get to me. No, no, no. What Max and I had done was a mistake, and that was how it would stay. Some drunken mistake I thought about a bottle or two deep on a friday night.

I did not love Max Verstappen, and that was that.

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, monanotlisa, and 850k others...

nadinehalliwell: my photographer @ maxverstappen <3

user1: cannot get over how much she actually looks like geri.

user2: MOTHERRRR

maxverstappen: stop drinking all the champagne the party hasnt started yet !!

⤷ nadinehalliwell: no <3

user3: i swear every story post of nadine recently has been her drinking

charlesleclerc: very pink today

gerihalliwell: so so pretty!!

user4: UGH SHES SO PRETTY LET ME BE HER.

By sundown the party was in full swing. The yacht massive, even by my mothers standards, but comfortable enough to fit everyone with room for plus ones and random additions to the roster. Leaving the bar I make my way to the little longue chair area on the top deck, waving happily to some of the drivers and such who mill about up there.

As I go to snag my spot between Max and Charles again, I'm intercepted by one of the newer Sky News reporters. I peeked over his shoulder from the conversation he had left, and saw some people just casually milling about. So I felt a bit better about this random guy coming up to me.

But, from the corner of my eye, I could see Max lean forward a bit more.

"Hello, sorry, I don't think we've met." He holds out a hand with a small grin as he looks me over, "I'm Luke."

"Luke, I'm Nadine, it's nice to meet you." I shook his hand, keeping my eyes firm on his face as he then chooses to keep his eyes firm on my mine. His eyes light up, as if he's realized exactly who he's talking to and it makes me want to scream. Of course.

"Geri's daughter, correct?" He grins and I nod, biting the inside of my cheek as I curl my hand a bit tighter around the fruity little margarita I got from the bar, "Wow, it's great to meet you. I'm sorry about everything that's been happening to you within the past few months, that must be rough.."

"It's been rough but I've got a good support system here, and I'm here with my family too, so they've been very helpful." I keep up the usual wall I keep up with any reporter. I know Luke notices, at the tick of his jaw, but he doesn't say anything else.

"That's good. I'm really glad to hear they're supportive." Luke smiles, "other than doing media for Red Bull, what do you do for work?"

"Just influencer stuff. I post fashion, beauty, and lifestyle content on social media, mostly Youtube, TikTok and Instagram. I also have a podcast on Spotify." I use my usual elevator pitch, "I pay for everything using the creator fund, sponsorships, and other means of ad revenue."

"The whole -- creator fund thing, thats fascinating to me." Luke starts to talk, continuing on and on. The more he talks, the more I begin to realize that this guy just wants to blab on and on about himself. I nod, keeping my interest as he talk about reporting and doing media, and then asking if I do it too.

"I've done some sort work for Sky News before. When Seb did the beehives I was one of the reporters over there with him, which was nice because he and Mark kinda raised me a bit and I hadn't seen him in a while." I smile and Luke nods, and before he even says anything I can tell he's about to try something stupid

"Well, someone as gorgeous as you would definetely be succesful in any field." Luke grins, taking a sip of what I think is an Old Fashioned in hand before his grin falls to a smirk, "and man in charge would be an idiot to not promote a face like yours."

I don't dignify him with any answer. Taking a long sip of my drink as my eyes are level with him. I can tell he's nervous at my lack of response, but before he can talk, Luke's eyes flicker to the side of my head. He squints before a firm, warm hand is pressed to the small of my back.

"Sorry to interrupt," Max smiles placidly, his hand sliding to grip onto my hip, his fingers warm against the skin of the cutout of my dress and sending a shiver down my spine, "but Miss Halliwell here has a certain seat she needs to snag again."

"No worries." Luke gives a stiff response, before turning away with a soft goodbye over his shoulder. Max turns me and tucks me back against his chest as he leans down to ask, "You alright?"

"Yeah. He was just a weirdo." I roll my eyes as he guides my back to my seat, securing me between him and Charles once more, and I happily fall back into conversation.

Not failing to notice the fact Max's hand never leaves my back.

"Max Emilian Verstappen, I swear to god." My voice rings across the quiet hotel room, nails clicking on my cracked phone screen as I type a reply to his comment. Charles laughs softly, his hand pausing midway through fixing my hair as he looks over at my hungover state in my bed. Thanks to him and Carlos, I managed to get back from the yacht party last night with all my belongings and my dignity.

"You're getting full named." He says to Max as if he isn't actively ignoring my complaints. I watch Max peek at my tiny lump in the blankets behind him in the mirror he stands in front of, the back of his hair still drying from the shower. We had to leave for the flight back home within an hour and I was still laying in a ball, still nauseous, still tired and aching.

"Because of the reporter?" He asks, turning his head to Charles who smiles at him with a shrug.

"What was so bad about him?" I ask, "You and Charles are all up in arms about it! I don't even know what he said that was so outlandish!"

"He looked like a damn predator." Max says and if I wasn't as nauseous as I was from blacking out last night (not my proudest moment) I would've chucked a pillow at his head, "and I can't control Charles."

Charles laughs, moving from the mirror to come sit at my side, letting me pop my head onto his lap as he absentmindedly toys with my hair, before he starts braiding it back for the flight home and I groan and cuddle into his touch. Charles was basically my new brother at this point, ever since I moved to Monaco last year.

"He flirted with her infront of everyone, I don't take back my attitude about this." Max turns around, walking over and kneeling in front of me. Brushing the side of my face to feel the heat from my red cheeks, "did you even drink water, Nadi?"

"It was kinda funny!" I protest, careful not to move too much as Charles' nails run along my scalp to collect little sections of my hair, "and I did drink water, and Gatorade. I had like... four big bottles of Gatorade."

"Drink more." Max sits now, long legs folding under himself as he sighs, "before your mom kills me for letting you go out with us."

"Oh hush, you're more of her kid now than I am." I grumble out a complaint before Charles taps my shoulder so I sit up and roll to the other side so he can braid it too. Before Max can reply, the door is knocked on and I close my eyes--pretending to be asleep is easier than being hungover.

"Geri, hey!" Max calls at the door and I groan, Geri suppressing a laugh into a soft huff through her nose. Sitting me up slowly, Charles used the comforter to hide my dress that I was still in, and I curled a bit deeper into its warmth and his touch.

I would literally do anything for Charles in this moment.

"Morning, morning," my mother gives Max a tight hug, the two more mother and son now that team owner and racer. As she comes into the room, she laughs at my burrito, leaning over to peck my forehead.

"Late night?" She asks and I grunt in response. My mother shrugs her bag off one shoulder and digs in it--handing me a water bottle and a thing of Advil.

"Yes, Mama. And I love you." I say as I take the items, popping two Advil and washing it down with the entire bottle of water.

“Mhm.” Geri laughs, taking the empty bottle and tossing it as she shoves the Advil back in her bag, “and you love liquor more.”

“Mama, they had soju.”

“My daughter’s an alcoholic.” Geri huffs as he stands and Max laughs. I made grabby hands at her much like I would when I was a kid and she was my lifeline.

“Oh, she’s very hungover.” another voice calls, before someone comes running into the room and tackles me to the bed.

“Daniel!” I complain, hitting him as I writhe under his weight, “get off!”

“Stop talking to that reporter, and I’ll get off.”

“What is it with him? I’ve been seeing stuff online.” Geri pops her bags down next to Max’s, watching as Max climbs on top of Daniel—effectively putting about three hundred pounds on my already nauseated self while Charles just laughs.

“Did you see that guy yesterday?” Daniel says, whacking Max’s head, and begrudgingly both of my pseudo brothers climb off of me. But Daniel is hungover as well, I can see it in his eyes, so I let him stay on the bed while we shove Max off. Giggling when the Dutch driver unceremoniously thumps to the floor.

“The reporter was flirting with me, apparently.” I shrug, leaning forward to lay my entire body weight on Charles who grunts in response.

“Apparently? He called you gorgeous!”

“Could be a compliment.” Geri smiles, looking over at Max to gage his reaction. He looks less than pleased.

"Alright, well, come on. We have to be at the airport in like... an hour or they won't let us take off until later." Max huffs, taking Daniel's hand to help him up and then Charles. The two of them grab most of the bags and before I know it we're at the airport, me using my Airpod Max's on their soundproof mode to keep my headache at bay. Luckily it doesn't take long for us to get on Max's jet, and my mother takes me to where the bed is so I can sleep.

The little bedroom has a door to close too, so my mom sets herself up on a chair to answer her emails and shuts the door so the boys can be louder without bothering me.

Which, leaves Max, Daniel, and Charles alone towards the front of the jet. Charles stretches out, sitting on a chair next to Max as Daniel sits across from Max.

"Nadine looked sick," Max sighs, running a hand through his hair as he takes a long sip of water, "and I know turbulence gets to her stomach, so I imagine it's worse now that we're in the air."

"I'm sure she's fine, Max. Geri's in there with her." Daniel hums, looking over at the door as if reminding himself of that.

"How do you even remember turbulence gets to her?" Charles yawns, taking a sip of his own water in turn with Max. Leaning back in his chair as he watches Max.

"I just... I dunno. I remember weird shit like that." Max shrugs, looking out the window as they dip through the clouds. He looks back at his two friends, who are sharing looks, and he raises his eyebrows, "what?"

"Why did that Luke guy piss you off so much? Nadine has dealt with her fair share of sleazy reporters." Charles finally bites the bullet and asks, making Daniel raise his eyebrows in shock over the question being asked, and Max sighs.

"Do you really wanna know why that Luke guy pissed me off?" Max murmurs against the rim of his water bottle and both Charles and Daniel nod.

"Because he was flirting with her." Max shrugs softly, capping his bottle and setting it down and he leans back and stretches his back. His hands run through his hair, tugging on it, and closing his eyes as he sighs.

Daniel picks up where Charles left off, "But he flirted with a lot of girls, and it didn't bother you, but the second he set his eyes on Nadine? Why did you get so pissed off?"

"I really don't know but..." Max's voice is almost dark, "Oh, god, it was like seeing red. And he was flirting with her so boldly, in front of everyone, like he owned Nadine and it pissed me off."

"And you still think you don't like her?" Charles groans, kicking Max under the table, "you're so dense."

"I can't like her, you guys know how it is. Geri would fucking kill me, that's her daughter." Max complains and when Charles and Daniel raise their eyebrows he groans and slumps back, "okay, alright, fine. Maybe."

"Maybe?!" Daniel exclaims, getting hushed by the other two. And as Charles carries on the teasing, Max can't do anything more than gnaw on the inside of his cheek and try to swallow his smile.

He's in love with you, and that is that.

taglist (thank you, and I know this taglist is old, so if you'd like to be removed you can send me a message or an ask!)

@itsponybeaches @awritingtree @1655clean @biitch-with-wifi @heesungthel0ml @newlifeforus @rosegasly @sideboobrry11 @formulaal @justalittlejess

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 3

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Headlights flash across a white garage door. The car jerks to a stop and you look at the suburban house before you. The red brick and trimmed hedges are shadowy as yellow light glows from behind the front door. Another light flicks on upstairs as Walter shuts off the engine and plucks up his phone. 

You stay as you are, arms crossed as you stare over at him. He unbuckles his belt, letting it snap back, and he climbs out, shifting the whole car with his weight. You shake your head and roll your eyes. You’ll wait until he’s inside and fuck off.  

The escape is quickly stymied as he stomps around to the passenger side and opens the door. As he grabs your arm, you struggle to release yourself from the seat belt. You shove him away as you get up and steady yourself against the car. 

“Stop,” you whine. “Jesus.” 

“She better be here,” he snarls and snaps his fingers at you. 

You sigh and follow his pointing finger up the walk. He falls into step with you and his footsteps take the stairs heavily. Boom, boom, boom. His approach is thunderous in the calm suburban din. 

He pounds on the door and jabs at the doorbell. You shake your head and hug yourself as the evening sends a chill up your spine. Faye is not going to be happy and when she’s pissed, she reminds you a lot of her father. 

Walter continues his assault on the front door and finally a shadow flickers from within. Clumsy steps stutter to the other side and the latch flips back. A guy you vaguely recognise opens it from inside. Your escort growls and clamps his hand around the door frame.  

“Where the fuck is my daughter?” He sneers. 

“Huh? Who the hell--” 

“Faye!” Walter booms past the guy. 

“Yo, you can’t just--” 

“I can just, buddy,” Walter grabs the guy by his scruff, “I’m a cop and you got my fucking daughter in here--” 

“Holy fuck!” 

“Dad!” Faye squeals and comes barreling down the stairs, “get off! What are you even doing here? How do you--” 

She stops as she spots you watching half-drunk from the doorway. You put your hands up and shrug, mouthing ‘sorry’. She scowls and turns her ire back on her father. 

“You are so embarrassing! I’m an adult. I can do what I want--” 

Walter shoves aside the man in his maw and storms towards his daughter. 

“Can you, now? Why don’t you get a goddamn job and go find somewhere you can pay rent because as long as you live under my roof, you’re not an adult. You don’t get to go home with strangers.” 

Your brows raise and you back up. This would be a great time to leave. You don’t think Faye is gonna talk to you for a while after this and Walter, well, you don’t really care.  

You turn and drag your feet across the porch. What a disaster. Hey, it might save you from a future of these nights. You’re about done with the whole drinking and clubbing nonsense. Dancing isn’t too bad but there’s many guys buzzing around and Faye doesn’t bother swatting them away.  

You stop at the curb and look around. You don’t know this neighbourhood. Once you find a street name, you’re sure you’ll be able to track down a train terminal or something and get home. Great, more money spent. 

Is this what life is going to be for you? Depressing, dim, defeating. Faye, well, she’s a pretty girl, from a decent upbringing, these are her wild oats. She’ll sow them and be off to bigger better things once her name is on that degree. But you, you stick around in shady bars and you’ll be just another washed out loser. 

You get a few blocks away before you can get your data to kick in. You'll use your measly megabits in moments. Right, okay. Buses aren’t running at 2am and the train station is twenty minutes away. Fun, walking in the dark, alone. 

You don’t have much of a choice. You keep on. The glare of headlights comes up behind you, illuminating your silhouette against the hedges and pavement. You don’t look. Not until the car slows beside you. 

“Get in,” Walter orders brusquely. 

You scoff and cross your arms.  

“It’s not safe out here.” 

“Like you care.” 

“I’m a detective, it’s my job.” 

“Well, I’m out of your jurisdiction, detective, don’t gotta worry about me,” you roll your eyes. 

“Would you just--” 

You stop and face him as he hits the brakes and stops completely. 

“Where’s Faye?” You sniff. 

“So now you care?” 

“Wow, well, you can stop pretending to be Mr. Detective Good Guy,” you grit, “really, I didn’t tell her to get with that dude. If you listened, you’d know that’s the last thing I wanted. I don’t wanna be ditched for some stranger.” You shake your head and flick your hand dismissively, “not that you even care. So please, I’m gonna catch a train and go home. Don’t worry, you won’t see me any time soon. Sir.” 

You attach the last word as punctuation before you spin on your heel. You sneer into the darkness as you stroll away. You really can’t believe him. It’s like he’s so caught up in playing the hero detective in his working hours, that off the clock he can only be an asshole. 

Well, he isn’t your dad. He doesn’t make the rules for you. He is not your law. 

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor

saw a prompt from @givethispromptatry

So... here we are... as usual, not edited in the slightest and hoping it's alright!

WC: ~3.45k

After your (not so amicable) split from your dirtbag of a husband, you packed your things and moved back to Philly. It was the city that held a special place in your heart, you knew the area like the back of your hand, and your parents still resided in the place that you grew up. It only made sense now that as a single mother to a six year old girl, you would move to be closer to your parents so they could help bear the load of being a working mom. Elizabeth, but you usually stuck with the nickname Ellie, was a rather easy child. But moving from across the country and leaving the life that she knew and loved behind was rather hard for her- and it was even harder knowing that Mom and Dad had split, and that Dad didn’t necessarily want anything to do with either of you anymore.

So, after about a month of living with your parents, making trips from Utah to Philly and back multiple times to gather all of your things from the house, show the house, sell the house, and deal with the divorce lawyers… the two of you have finally found a little apartment that should be an appropriate size for the two of you while still staying within your budget.

You had been granted full custody, not that your ex would fight you on that, but you also managed to get him to fork over a decent amount of child support- and you would need it. You still haven’t found a job in Philly, and while little jobs here and there were helpful (you mostly did DoorDash on your bike, Ellie’s bike trailer attached so you could bring her along and hold the food), you knew that you absolutely needed to find a job- and quick.

In between attempting to unpack all of your things, get Ellie settled, looking for a new job, and Doordashing, you haven’t been able to take a breath at all. You don’t even know who your neighbors are or what they look like. And you feel a little guilty at that, but none of them have stopped by to introduce themselves to you either. You remember though, that Philly folks aren’t nearly as kind as the people that you had surrounded yourself with in Utah… so them not introducing themselves to you isn’t the most unheard of thing in the world.

Today was brutal. You had signed Ellie up to start school next week, searched and applied for a few teaching jobs (one of which would be at your daughter’s school if you could land it), gone grocery shopping, and then done a nice load of Doordashing with your daughter in tow because your parents couldn’t watch her.

The little girl had missed out on the nap that she usually takes after a day at school, so she’s absolutely miserable the entire time that you bike around. You had tried to placate her by bringing along her iPad so she could watch videos while you navigated the city, but she wanted nothing to do with it. All she did the entire time was whine about the fact that she wanted to go home and cuddle.

After hours of delivering food, you’re satisfied with the amount of money that you made today.

“Okay, little love,” you turn and look at your daughter. “Are you ready for home?”

“I’ve been ready,” she grumbles, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

You give her a soft smile. “I know, sweet girl… but Momma has to make money so we can stay here.”

“Why can’t we just stay in Utah where I like it?”

You bite your lip. “I want to be closer to my parents, baby… and this way you get to see Gram and Pop more than you used to. I think if you give Philly a chance, you’ll learn to love it like I do.”

She huffs a little. 

Deciding that you probably aren’t going to get much more out of her, you turn and start biking in the direction of your apartment. As you’re doing so, you silently thank God that you’re in good shape. At least if anything comes out of this, your legs are going to look incredible.

You chain your bike to the bike stand in the garage of your apartment complex, only to remember that you had forgotten what you needed to make dinner tonight. With regret, you begin to unchain it- much to Ellie’s dismay.

“Momma!” she stomps her foot.

“I know,” you say softly, but you gesture for her to get back into her trailer.

“No!”

You take a shaky breath. You really don’t want to have to put up with a trademarked Ellie tantrum, but it seems that’s what is in store for you tonight. “Love bug, please. We just have to go to the store, and then we can come home, I’ll make dinner, and we can cuddle.”

“I want to cuddle now!”

“Well, we have to fill that belly of yours with food first,” you poke her stomach gently, trying to elicit a giggle out of the little girl. 

It absolutely does the opposite of that. She bats your hand away, and you raise an eyebrow before standing back up straight. “Ellie, you know we do not try to hit.”

“I don’t care,” she tells you defiantly.

A redhead that lives in the building comes into the garage, eyeing you and your child. You hope she isn’t judging you for the fit your child is currently in the middle of having. She climbs into her car and rolls down her windows, but she doesn’t quite pull out yet. She glances at her phone instead.

You blow out a breath, eyes closed and trying to ground yourself, before looking at her again. “Elizabeth, we need to get food for dinner. All you have to do is sit in your trailer while I bike us to the store.”

“Why can’t I stay home?!”

“Because you are six and too little to stay home by yourself.”

“This isn’t home!” you daughter stomps her foot and bursts into tears.

The woman that lives in your complex is still sitting in her car, and you know she can hear your daughter’s and your words. Why hasn’t she pulled out yet?

You soften immediately, crouching back down and opening your arms for her to hug you if she needs to. She does. She immediately curls into your arms and clings to you. “I know, love bug. I know it doesn’t feel like home right now… but no matter what, Momma can’t leave you in the apartment alone. So, I need you to get into your trailer so we can head to the store. The faster we get there, the faster we can come back and curl up on the couch together, okay?”

Your daughter clings to you a little tighter, but you feel her nod into your shoulder.

The woman pulls out of her spot and gives you and your daughter a small wave as she drives past. 

You hold your little girl until she begins to pull away, and then you wipe her tears with the pads of your thumbs. “I love you, Ellie.”

She climbs back into her seat before mumbling back the same sentiment.

You’re able to do your quick run to the grocery store, and Ellie refuses to walk but also refuses to sit in the cart like she usually does. So, you carry her on your hip the entirety of your walk through the aisles. As you’re strolling up and down, you see the redhead that you had seen in the garage earlier, and she gives you a questioning look at the sight of you carrying your daughter when she could be in the cart that you’re pushing along.

You just give her a little shrug and continue on your way. Ellie is getting heavier and heavier by the minute though, so you pick up the pace and are out of the store.

You make your way back to the complex, bags around your arms and in the trailer with your daughter. When you lock your bike to the rack, you look in, and the little girl is fast asleep. Shit.

“Ellie,” you crouch down and whisper. “Sweetheart, we’re back. You have to wake up and carry the bread and juice in for me.”

The little girl stirs slightly before repositioning herself and closing her eyes again.

“Baby girl,” you say softly. “Please wake up for Momma.”

You see headlights, and the car that has the redheaded woman in it pulls in. Great. You get to make a fool out of yourself in front of her yet again.

Not being able to hide your stress, you decide to grab a few of the lighter bags, put them on your arms, and then wiggle Ellie out of the trailer. She’s asleep on your shoulder as soon as she’s in your hold. You silently take a moment to pray that your produce won’t get stolen in the few minutes it will take you to get Ellie upstairs before making your way into the building.

The elevator is broken. Of course it is. So you’re forced to carry three bags of groceries and your six year old daughter up four flights of steps. By the end of it, you’re wheezing. You manage to unlock your door before gently setting her on the couch. With a sigh and a wipe of your now sweaty brow, you lock the door behind you and begin to head down to get the rest of your groceries.

There’s that woman again… and she lives in the apartment across the hall. You give her a friendly nod of the head and a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes before you continue your trek back down.

After your second trip up, your body is entirely exhausted. You hardly have it in you to cook dinner, but you dragged Ellie out, so you have to make the meal.

You’re able to wake her with the scent of her favorite meal, but as soon as she’s finished, she’s curling up against you and falling asleep.

After your daughter lays on top of you for quite some time, you know you have to put her in her own room. So, you silently make your way into her bedroom and tuck her in. With a quick kiss to the forehead and a soft “I love you”, you make your way back out to the kitchen.

Ellie is out for the night- she was exhausted halfway through your DoorDash shift- so you grab a glass and fill it with wine. The sweet drink helps to melt away some of the stress as you clean the dishes and settle on the couch for some much needed adult time.

That time is interrupted though when you hear a few rough knocks rattling your apartment. Instinctively, you grab the baseball bat that you keep behind the couch and make your way to the door.

Who the hell could be at your door at this hour? You don’t know anyone here, it wouldn’t be your parents… Could it be your ex-husband? No. He’s out in California with the woman he was cheating on you with. So who the hell is it?

“Who is it?” you yell, gripping the bat so tightly your knuckles turn white.

“You the woman that just moved in?” a gruff voice calls back.

You move a bit closer as you call, “What’s it to you?!”

“Saw you have a kid. Was wondering if you needed help with anything. You look real stressed.”

At that, you move closer to the door and glance out the peephole. It’s the woman that you ran into in the garage and at the grocery store. You open the door just slightly, still unsure of her.

“I ain’t gonna bite,” she teases. “You looked really stressed, so I thought I’d come over, introduce myself, and see if you needed any help.”

You lessen the grip on your bat as you open the door a little further. You take in the woman’s full appearance now that you aren’t trying to calm your daughter and aren’t terrified of being mugged. She’s… she’s really pretty.

You don’t realize that you haven’t say anything back until she’s waving a hand in front of your face. “Hello?”

You shake your head to bring yourself back to the present. “Hi. Sorry… today’s just been… a lot.”

“I could gather that. Can I help?”

You shrug. “I think I’m good at the moment, but I appreciate it.”

“Well,” the redhead purses her lips. “You ever need anything, I’m just across the hall.” 

She turns to walk back to her apartment, but she stops when you call a gentle, “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I uh, never got your name,” you say quietly.

“Schemmenti. Melissa.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile at her. “I’m Y/N, and the little girl you saw me with is my daughter, Ellie.”

She looks at you thoughtfully before nodding. She heads back to her apartment after that.

You run into her a lot in the following few days after that encounter. She sees you haul Ellie with you pretty much everywhere, and she has quite a few questions that she just can’t seem to work out on her own. So, one day after you’ve brought up Ellie and the groceries, she can’t help but knock on your door.

“Who is it?” you call, not bothering to move from your place on the couch with your daughter.

“Melissa,” the familiar voice calls back.

You sigh before making your way over to the door. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Just checkin’ in on you,” the redhead says. “I saw you hauling up Ellie and your groceries.”

“All good,” you chuckle. “Just about to make dinner for the two of us.”

“You haven’t had dinner yet?” She looks concerned.

“About to get the microwave pasta going now,” you admit sheepishly. “I was gonna have it made earlier, but El decided that she would die without Momma cuddles… and who am I to deny my sweet girl of such a request?”

“When’s her bedtime?”

“In about an hour,” you tell her. “Why?”

“Let me make youse two dinner,” she offers. “I’m a damn good cook, and I can make a pasta dish way better than the packaged sh-stuff.”

“Oh,” you say softly. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, please,” she argues gently. “I insist.”

“O-oh,” you rub your collarbone nervously. “Are you sure?”

“I haven’t had dinner either,” she lies through her teeth. “So let me make us all a meal while you relax and hold your daughter.”

You finally manage to nod- she does not seem like the type of woman who would lose an argument.

“Just give me a couple minutes to gather some ingredients, and I’ll come back over?”

You smile in lieu of an answer. You close the door gently once she’s back in her apartment before making your way to Ellie.

“Sweet girl, our neighbor, Miss Melissa is coming over for dinner tonight. Can you be the polite little girl I raised?”

She nods, but she reaches for you. You pull her into your lap and hold her close until the redhead knocks on your door again. You pull yourself and your daughter off the couch to go open the door.

In her arms are a few different cans, some produce, and pasta that has clearly been homemade.

“Baby,” you tease the ends of you daughter’s locks gently. “This is Miss Melissa. Can you say hi to her for me?”

“H-hi,” Ellie manages to squeak out. “You’re really pretty.”

Melissa smiles at her, and when she speaks her voice has turned to butter. It’s much softer than when she’s speaking to you. “Thank you, hun. I’m Melissa. It’s so nice to meet you, Ellie.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’ve been talking to your momma,” the woman chuckles gently.

The little girl’s lips form into an ‘O’ shape, and you can’t help the gentle kiss that you plant on her temple.

“Miss Melissa is going to make us dinner,” you tell your daughter softly. “Does that sound alright?”

She nods against your neck.

“I’m gonna make spaghetti,” the redhead tells Ellie. “That sound okay?”

“You might become her new favorite person,” you joke. “Little girl eats so many noodles, she’s gonna turn into one someday.”

You girl giggles against you. “Nah uh,” she scrunches her nose and makes a funny face at you. “That’s not possible, Momma.”

“I know, my love. I’m just teasing,” you chuckle before returning your attention to the woman in your doorway. “Well, come in, come in. Make yourself at home.”

She carries her things to the kitchen before starting her prep. The way that she gets everything done so efficiently is mind blowing to you, and you can’t help but watch in awe as you continue to hold Ellie.

“Sit down, hun,” Melissa instructs softly as she stirs her sauce. “Take a load off. I got this.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any help? Maybe a glass of wine for your troubles?”

“I won’t say no to a glass, but you absolutely are not helping. I got it.”

You pour her a glass and offer it to her before quietly sitting down and continuing to watch as she makes her way through your kitchen effortlessly.

Dinner is placed in front of you before you know it, and Ellie is nearly wiggling with glee at the plate in front of her. She dives in, and her eyes light up.

“This is so yummy!” your little girl cheers as she takes another forkful to her mouth.

“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart,” Melissa smiles. She gestures for you to take a bite as well, and when you do, you can’t help the small sigh that comes out of your mouth.

“Wow,” you say softly. “This is… incredible.”

“Thanks,” she chuckles as she take a bite of her own creation. “It’s a family recipe.”

Dinner is pleasant. The woman does her best to ask Ellie all about herself, to which your little girl answers delightfully. She’s even able to ask Melissa a few questions of her own. But once her plate is cleared, Ellie climbs into your lap and lets out a yawn as she fiddles with the chain around your neck.

“Is my little girl tired?” you coo softly.

She nods against you.

“Why don’t you start getting ready for bed, sweetness? Momma will be in in a few minutes to say goodnight,” you tell her. She nods again. “Well, off you go. But first, what do you say to Miss Melissa?”

“Thank you,” your daughter smiles brightly before climbing off your lap. Surprisingly, she makes her way over to the redhead’s side of the table and hugs her. Melissa wraps her arms around the little girl gently.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Get some good sleep tonight, yeah?”

Ellie nods before wandering down the hall to get to her bedroom, leaving you with Melissa.

“Thank you for dinner tonight,” you say softly.

“Any time.”

“No, seriously. I usually cook, but I was not feeling it tonight. So, thank you.”

“I’m sure. I saw you biking all around today, starting with this morning when I was heading to work and ending with you coming back from the store.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I’m a busy woman.”

“Where are you always biking anyway?”

“I’m in between jobs at the moment, so I’ve just been DoorDashing with El until she starts school next week,” you sigh. “Hopefully I get a job soon… I need all the money I can get to keep this place and give El everything she needs or wants.”

“You’re doing great,” Melissa tells you honestly. “She adores you.”

“She likes you too,” you say quietly. “You’re really good with her.”

“Well, I have some experience with children,” she chuckles quietly. “I guess I should head out so you can get the little one to bed and get some sleep yourself, but I’ll see you around?”

“Next time, dinner’s on me,” you tell her.

“We’ll see about that one,” she laughs as she heads for the door. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to holler.”

“Thank you, Melissa. Goodnight.”

You see her out, and as you close the door behind her, you sigh. You lean against it for a second, a little confused with the way you’re feeling after this diiner. 

Maybe this new neighbor will become a close friend of yours… maybe something else. Only time will tell. But for now, you have to get back to your daughter. 

Next

[lily-radiance]

Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

[justagalwhowrites]

who are joel and beautiful from NIT doing? I’d love a little snippet into their day! you’re amazing love you!

OMG Hi Bestie!

Such a good question! Here's some of what Joel and Beautiful got up to this evening ❤️

Manic Monday

Joel finds his fiancee relaxing without him after work. He joins in. A New in Town drabble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from New in Town

Warnings: Smut because it's them, obviously. No use of Y/N, minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 2.4k

“Beautiful?” Joel frowned as he looked through the house, loosening his tie as he walked. “You home?” 

It had been a hell of a Monday. He had a meetings with clients all day which meant he was stuck wearing stiffer clothes than he ever really liked, doing shit he didn’t really want to do. What’s worse, it meant he was mentally exhausted while also feeling like he’d gotten fuck all done. There was plenty he didn’t like about what he usually did on the job but one thing he’d always loved about working with his hands was the sense of accomplishment in his work. There was progress he could touch and see, a sense of pride when he stepped back and looked at something he had built. Sometimes, when he felt shitty about the way his life was going, he’d drive past old projects, just to prove to himself that he was useful. That he could do something tangible and good with what he had. 

Of course, he hadn’t needed to do that in a while. Not since he met you. You, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen; you, the funnest person he’d ever met; you, the smartest person he knew - besides maybe Sarah. He didn’t need those stop gaps with you. He just felt good because he knew you were there to come home to. 

Assuming you were there to come home to, of course. 

Your car was in the garage but you weren’t curled up in your usual corner of the couch with a book or magazine like you so often were when Joel got home. You weren’t in the kitchen, either, getting a jump on dinner because you were too hungry to wait for Joel to get there to work on it together. He went to the bedroom and you weren’t there, either, though he recognized the pants he’d seen you set out the night before sitting in the hamper. So you’d been here at some point… 

“Beautiful?” He called again, just taking off the tie now and heading to the closet to put it away. He frowned as he started to take off his shirt and then, out of the corner of his eye, caught a glimpse of the thick, fluffy bathrobe that hung on the back of his closet door. It was from the hotel where Joel had proposed just a month earlier, the two of you joking about stealing them at first before just buying a set from the front desk as a keepsake. Your matching one usually hung beside his but it was missing. He smiled a little and got undressed before pulling on his swim trunks and putting his robe over it. 

“Here you are,” he smiled as he came outside and found you lounging in the hot tub the two of you had added to the back yard just a week before. Your eyes were closed, head leaned back against the corner of the tub, a blissed out look on your face. Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice and you smiled. Joel’s heart skipped a beat when he saw your smile, it always did. That he could make you that happy by simply showing up baffled him but he loved doing it. He’d do anything to make you happy, didn’t seem fair that you made the job so easy. 

“Hey you,” you moved across the tub, crossing your arms over the edge of it and smiling up at him. “I lose track of time out here? How late is it?” 

“Not too bad,” he said, leaning down and kissing you softly, deeply. You tasted like your favorite gum and the lip balm you put on when you got home. “Only a little after six.” 

“Look at you,” you smiled wider against his lips. “Getting home at a decent time! I’m impressed.” 

“Should be easier to do with these new jobs,” he said, kissing you once more, just a quick peck on the lips this time. “Mind if I join you for a few before we figure out dinner?” 

“You can do anything you want with me,” you raised your eyebrows suggestively and pushed yourself back from the wall and to the corner he’d found you in originally. 

“Well in that case,” Joel teased lightly, sliding the robe off before getting in the hot tub next to you. He sighed as he got in, the water gloriously warm on his skin as he sank into it. He came alongside you and you pressed yourself against his side, sighing contentedly, and he put his arm around your shoulder, kissing the top of your head as he did. 

“Would you be OK just ordering a pizza?” You asked as you nuzzled closer to him. “I know it’s only Monday but I’m already exhausted. Jones fucked one of our accounts over and they handed them over to me today so I spent half the day trying to clean up his mess with the client and start trying to get copywriters moving. I feel so braindead, this week is going to chew me up and spit me out, I can tell. I probably should jump on and do some work tonight but I really needed a break first.” 

“I’m sorry baby,” he gave you a squeeze. “You’re going to do amazing with it, though. There’s a reason they ask you to fix things like this and it’s because you’re great at what you do.” 

“Yeah, maybe I should change that,” you sighed. “Be worse at my job so I could have a break sometime… How was your day?” 

“Better than yours by the sound of it,” he smiled a little. “But pizza sounds perfect, I’m braindead, too. Client meetings ain’t exactly my strong suit.” 

“But you’re so charming and hot,” he could hear the frown in your voice. “You’d think they’d all be clamoring to sign with you…” 

Joel laughed a little. 

“Afraid you’re the only one who thinks that, Beautiful,” he said. “Appreciate the confidence, though.” 

“Must be meeting with men who are worried about you stealing their wives,” you mused. He laughed again. 

“Here,” Joel said, reaching over the side of the tub to the pocket of his robe, pulling out his phone and going to the website for the pizza place the two of you had come to favor. “We’ll just get this ordered now and then that’s one thing we won’t have to think about…” He put ordered what he usually did - loving, for a moment, that he’d been with you so long that the two of you had a usual pizza order - and added some of their hottest wings and a pint of ice cream for good measure.

“There,” he said, dropping his phone back on the robe. “Ordered, so you’re not hangry later.” 

“Take such good care of me,” you sighed contentedly, kissing his neck. “How long is the wait for delivery?” 

“Forty minutes, give or take.” 

“Hmmm,” you sighed dramatically, your hand slipping down to find Joel’s cock through his swim trunks. “I wonder how on Earth we’ll kill 40 minutes…” 

“You’re dangerous,” he growled, grabbing you and pulling you on his lap as you squealed. He settled you on his thighs, your legs on either side of his own, his hardening cock brushing against your slit in your swim suit. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, wet fingers tracing through his hair. 

“Am I now?” You asked pressing your warm, soft, water-slicked body against his. The plush of your breasts pressed into his chest. He nodded and you kissed him, adjusting your hips so your hot core was against the root of his length. He moaned at the contact. “Should probably do something about that.” 

“Probably should,” he said, his voice low and dark and needy. He tugged you closer, kissing you desperate and deep, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, filling you how he wanted to fill other parts of you. You rocked your hips against him and he moaned into your lips, his hands spreading over every inch of skin he could reach at your back, sinking into your flesh as you pressed yourself closer and tighter. 

“Don’t know why you wear a swimsuit out here,” Joel panted against you. “Always have to work around it…” 

“It’s fun to act like you’ll keep your hands to yourself,” you teased lightly. 

“No it ain’t,” he said, “this is better.” His hands came around to the front of you and scooped your breasts out from the confines of the suit, holding the weight of them in his hands, thumbs brushing your nipples and making you whimper. “See? Told you.” 

“You’re taking advantage of my compromised state,” you said, sounding needy now. “Not fair.” 

“Isn’t it?” He asked, his mouth going to the soft swell of your chest, brushing his lips over the curve of you there. “You always leave me compromised. Can’t think straight when you’re around, gotta even shit out somehow.” 

“Cruel, cruel man,” you panted as he kissed over your breasts and pulled your nipple into his mouth, brushing it with the tip of his tongue, softly sucking at it. 

“Want me to stop?” He asked, lifting his eyes to yours. 

“Absolutely not,” you replied.

He smirked. 

“Good.” 

He went back to kissing and licking and sucking your skin, rocking his hips up against you as he did, before trailing his lips back up to yours, kissing you as you pressed your bared flesh to his. His cock was almost painfully hard against you as you separated from him just far enough to slip your hand between your bodies and free him from his swim trunks, working his thick, hard shaft with a needy moan. Your thumb brushed his leaking head and he groaned, pressing his face into your neck as you stroked him up and down, squeezing him just right. 

“Almost like you want me to come in the water and not you,” he panted against you. 

“Definitely don’t want that,” you sounded needier than he did and he smiled, reaching between your thighs to run his index finger over your still clothed slit before gathering the fabric and tucking it to the side. 

“Good,” he said, taking his cock from you as you rose up just enough for him to notch himself at your entrance. “Neither do it.” 

He pushed just the head of him inside of you and you moaned with it, your tight, wet heat even better than the warmth of the water around the two of you. He took your waist and pulled you down on himself, all of his cock spreading your walls apart in one swift stroke. You gasped, head going back and eyes closed and Joel felt your pussy contract once around him as he bottomed out in you. 

“Fuck, Beautiful,” he panted. “You already close?” 

You just nodded urgently, your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

“Let’s make it a real good one then, baby,” he said, starting to guide you over his length. He fucked up into you as you rode him, your body pliant in his hands as your channel grew tighter and tighter around him. The rhythm set, he moved one hand to the small of your back, the other to your clit, thumb pressing and working the tight bundle of nerves as he pressed you closer. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered, motion stuttering for a moment as your body tightened around his own. “Joel…” 

You rose and fell over him, the pleasure of you growing and settling in him with every building stroke, your body molding to perfectly to take him.

“Come on Beautiful,” he whispered, pressing himself deep, struggling to hold off his own orgasm. You just felt so damn good inside. So soft, so wet, so warm, so his. It was primal, the urge to come deep inside of you. Like if he did, it would claim you in some way, as though it was possible to belong to another person any more than he belonged to you or you to him. “Want you to come for me, just come for me, you can do it, just let it all go for me, give in for me, let yourself feel it…” 

He fucked up and deep into you at the same time as he pressed down on the small of your back and your clit and you cried out, your pussy clenching so tight around him for a moment that it almost hurt before throbbing and fluttering over his thick length. He moaned and let his orgasm hit him, too, the heat of it flowing from what felt like every inch of his being as he spilled into you, rope after rope of his come filling you. 

You collapsed on top of him when you finished, your head resting on his shoulder as his cock started to soften deep within you. He just held onto you, your limbs limp and pliant, as you came back down to earth, one of his hands trailing a soothing path up and down your spine. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you said, still sounding a little breathless. 

He laughed a little. 

“Feeling better?” He asked, kissing your shoulder. You nodded against him. “Good.” 

“You?” You asked, raising your head just enough to look at him. “Because if not, we can try again…” 

“Oh I’m doing much better,” he replied. “Think you just might be the cure for all that ails me, Beautiful.” 

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and giggled a little. 

“Good,” your lips brushed his neck and Joel started to get hard again, his cock still inside of you. “Still think we should go for round two though…” 

“Anybody back there?” 

Your head shot up from Joel’s shoulder and Joel’s head spun to look toward the privacy fence where the voice had come from. 

“Sorry,” the man said. “I just think I have a pizza for you…” 

“One second!” Joel called as you tugged the top of your suit back up. He gently lifted you off of him and he tucked himself back inside his suit as you adjusted yours, too. He smiled a little at you. “After pizza?” 

“Definitely,” you smiled as the two of you got out of the hot tub to have dinner. “I never argue with dessert. Especially not on a Monday.” 

Joel opened the sliding glass door for you and gave you a quick kiss before going to get the door. 

“Me either, Beautiful.” 

[gooeyringtown]

drummer au headcanons

barbie as a drummer in a grunge/garage rock band has been IN my mind so hard lately & well i had to do something…….

credits to @hellsfireclub & @el-fandom-phantom for some of these too btw <33 feeding my delusions 😋

it starts when barbie is like in 8th or 9th grade, she and her friends (probably ken & basketball ken [kingsley ben-adir’s ken, to clarify]) find some instruments at a garage sale or thrift store

they’re not in the greatest shape, but they get the job done and they sound decent. the three of them spend their afternoons after school playing random beats and just messing around, simply having fun while trying to get a hang of the instruments

barbie tries her luck with the guitar but she doesn’t quite like it. she can play it just fine, but she doesn’t feel it flow out of her the way it seems to for ken

(basketball ken plays the bass)

barbie has a little bit of a crisis…. her friends are really great at guitar & bass, and what about her!! what is she good at?? does she have any musical ability??

she doesn’t realize that whenever she listens to music, she is always tapping her foot/bouncing her leg, or drumming her fingers, or tapping out somehow, the rhythm of the song. always following the beat, without even thinking

basketball ken’s dad has an old drum set in the garage that barbie sees one day when they decide to practice at his house one afternoon

and as soon as barbie sees it…. it finally clicks

she is an absolute natural with the drums. the beat simply flows through her and it’s like she doesn’t even have to try

(obviously she does, though. she is only around 14/15, and far from the greatest in the world.)

she feels damn proud of herself though, for finally finding her calling. and she has so much fun playing. it’s addicting, and they’ll all spend hours, until barbie has nailed a new routine or solo and feels extremely satisfied

it continues like this through high school. as they get older, they get a little more ‘serious.’ aka they branch out and try new styles. ken takes up vocals alongside guitar, and basketball ken + barbie do back-up.

by senior year, they’ve amassed a pretty impressive base of people who know them. they mostly stick to covers, though they do dabble in attempting original music from time to time

(it’s also worth noting that all 3 of them can play the instruments interchangeably, but they strongly prefer to stick to their one, mainly)

they play local gigs at taverns & such in their town, and they’re always a blast

barbie finds herself loving & craving more of that. she’s obsessed with the feeling of the spotlight sort of on her, the adrenaline from when she’s cranking out this music, feeling the beat in her and causing people such a fun time. it’s the idea of creating that fills her with this joy

barbie saves up and for her graduation gift, her parents help her pay half and half for a new drum set. and this is quite possibly the happiest day of barbie’s life

the 3 of them take a gap year: basketball ken undertakes an internship at a law firm his mom is a partner at, ken is a leader at an equestrian camp, and barbie does some volunteer work at an animal shelter

in between their work, they still meet up and practice. the summer after their gap year is the greatest; they play with a renewed freedom, and let months of repressed musical talent finally bleed again.

they book gig after gig, at some local places for the summer but also branching out to new and nearby towns, just to get a taste

(barbie only seems to get prettier and prettier, and she most definitely has people lining up trying to get her attention. she is so oblivious though, and frankly, just not interested. no one has caught her eye. music is her priority and she’s busy with figuring school out and reworking her job schedule, so she doesn’t have time.)

that is, until, one night at a gig, barbie spots literally the most beautiful girl she has ever seen in the crowd, just before their set

she has these gorgeous big brown eyes that look at her for a second, and it’s enough to have barbie’s heart running wild. she finds herself playing with extra vigor that night, trying extra hard to be at her very best and shine just a little brighter

the kens definitely notice and are hyping her up like crazy after the show

“barbie, holy shit, you KILLED IT!” “where did THAT come from!!!”

turns out the girl is there with allan, ken’s friend. and she’s invited backstage with them

barbie turns to look at her, and the kens immediately know why barbie was so extra sublime that night

her name is gloria, and barbie is like marry me

the kens most definitely tease her immensely following that night. whenever they have an upcoming gig, barbie tries to very subtly and sneakily ask if any of ken’s friends will be there. (if allan will be there again.)

(her sneakiness is to no avail, though, because the kens know she’s asking if gloria will be there again, and they make so much fun of her.)

all barbie can do is blush and hide her face.

(though she does grumble that at least she has girls who have been interested, unlike the two of them.)

yep. that does the job. the kens are pouty messes for the rest of the day.

the next time barbie sees gloria at a show, gloria is wearing this pink flowery band-aid on her finger, from a little cut she received

barbie traces the pad of her finger along the band-aid, while the two of them sit on a couch backstage and talk

(it’s so subtle, her touch, but gloria’s heart is hammering in her chest.)

summer ends, and barbie goes off to school. it’s not too far away, but not close either. and gloria goes to school elsewhere. they definitely keep in touch though, and actually talk and text constantly

they meet up halfway during every possible chance they have. 3 day weekends, spring or winter breaks. you name it.

actually, for spring break, they have a gig. barbie has just turned 21, and they’re going to some bar in the dusty middle of nowhere

it’s an amazing show. gloria is there, so of course it is, for barbie

they buy her a round of shots afterwards, and they stay to dance and play pool

barbie sobers up and is quite hungry, so she and gloria sneak off to get some burgers and a milkshake

it’s nearly 2 in the morning by the time they leave, and the kens are probably wasted, so they decide to buy some cheap clothes to sleep in and find a motel to spend the night in

while gloria gets settled into their room, barbie goes out to get them some waters from the vending machine

when she comes back, she sits on the bed while gloria changes into the pajama shirt

but there’s a mirror … and gloria’s back is right there, with no bra, and barbie can see—

gloria looks up, and the two lock eyes through the mirror, and she knows barbie is looking

barbie flushes a fierce red, looking away quickly and feeling horribly invasive and gross. she gets up briskly and walks over to the bathroom, muttering a ‘sorry’ the whole way there

she shuts herself in, but the door is just barely closed when gloria knocks on it

barbie is shaking, but she opens it. she hasnt even turned the light on, and she is a tall shadow in the doorway

she and gloria stare at each other, for a few moments, the tension palpable

and then gloria pulls barbie down and kisses her

and fucking finally

(is what the kens say. and allan. everyone who knows them, pretty much.)

they start dating and are long distance while they go to school

barbie does this thing where she wears the pink flowery bandaids on her finger, the kind that gloria had on the night they first met

it kinda helps her feel like she is showing off her loyalty. it’s like her version of a promise ring, essentially

she also takes exceptional care of her hands, after gloria tells her how soft they are despite the expected callouses from years of drumming

granted, her right (and dominant) hand is a little more roughened up than her left, but they’re still very soft

(plus that little callousness, that touch of roughness, is delicious on gloria’s belly, trembling and pulled taut, as the softness of barbie’s other hand travels up the inside of gloria’s thigh and in between her legs)

(i mean come on. just because barbie isn’t a guitarist doesn’t mean her fingers aren’t deft and very skilled.)

gloria is a rockstar gf

no seriously like she’s at every one of barbie’s gigs, front row, and barbie dedicates every show to her.

(she kisses the bandaids on her fingers to give herself luck as well.)

barbie turns 22, and ken helps her paint her drum set pink. she also gets pink drumsticks

as a birthday gift, gloria gets barbie this heart shaped locket where she can put any picture in it

(barbie, of course, puts a picture of them kissing in it)

(gloria melts)

as a surprise, for their anniversary, barbie secretly writes a song for gloria. and at their gig, she performs it at the end of their set

gloria starts crying as she watches barbie sing and listens to her beautiful voice, knowing the song is just for her and how hard barbie must have worked on it

barbie pulls her onstage at the end of the song

and her hair is all messy and tousled, face glistening with light sweat, body warm and wired with energy, hands on gloria’s waist, blue eyes twinkling and smile so pretty and brilliant and in love

and so is gloria, so she throws herself around barbie and kisses her passionately, right under the pink concert lights in front of everyone

because her gf is a rockstar!!!!!

SORRY THIS IS MESSY but i needed to get it out <33 THEY ARE SO CUTE! my bbys

[verdemoun]

can I get some timewarp Charles or Dutch? I love your au 😭

cracks every bone in my hands lets fucking gooo

charles blessed and beloved. he died of illness in 1908 but it was so peaceful he died in his sleep in a warm bed and as got sick he accepted it with a very similar flare to hosea talking about bessie where he was quietly hopeful he would get to see arthur again and instead of being jolted to the present like the more violent deaths he just woke up peacefully to an arthur that got to age and looks healthy and is smiling at him so affectionately because he missed him so much

they're in love, your honor

arthur already has his own place (very close to hosea's, of course) so charles immediately moves in with arthur and they fall into domestic bliss without actually having the conversation of 'i know we were close friends and confidants with unaddressed feelings in the past and it's been almost a decade and you had to mourn me but do you want to be my partner for the rest of our natural lives btw i have an adult son'

charles is still awkward though he didn't understand life and people in 1899 sometimes modern era is just too much they'll be grocery shopping and someone will say a new sentence so stupid he has to go sit in the truck and just disengage with society for a while.

he has zero social media presence and cannot handle the constant depression of tv news media. what do you mean people are still fighting over civil rights and racism back in my day you could throw a stick of dynamite at a kkk meeting or shoot a eugenicist in front of the law and no one cared. if he's home alone he's listening to cds on through an actual cd player

charles smith would absolutely fuck with a home depot helping john build beecher's hope awakened something in him. the garage is almost as big as their house on one side you have arthur's eclectic collection of passing interests including the car he's working on and on the other side you have precision organised charles's expanse of every kind of tool you can imagine. hand tools power tools different kinds of wood organized by tree and then grain

he might be a little in love with the customer service guy at the tool shop who is similarly awkward and accidentally blunt with a flat sense of humor. no small talk. just 'this is my project' 'you will need this. this is the brand we're meant to promote but this is just as effective with more attachments and it's cheaper' 'thank you' 'it's literally my job'. sometimes they go to each others workshops to show off their projects he is charles 'doesn't drain my social battery' friend

charles' job title is just 'decent guy with a truck' every construction company in the local area has his number and will send him a text asking him to help out on a job or if they can borrow some obscure power tool only charles smith would have. it suits charles really well because it means he can just turn off his phone and go on a spontaneous three week hunting trip with arthur and isaac without needing to communicate with anyone. people know if you don't hear back within 15 minutes he's turned off his phone and you will hear from him when he gets back from whatever adventure he's gone on with his family find someone else to do the job

for a lot of the gang they almost have to get to know charles again like he became a lot more comfortable with himself as a person between 1899 and 1907 the first time he cracks jokes or acts downright silly they almost don't recognize him. like yass charles be happy.

admittedly he is the guy they call to help build furniture charles doesn't follow ikea instructions he just rocks up with a drill and assembles it the way that makes sense

eliza and charles are besties and arthur lives in constant fear. they go out for coffee and gossip about whatever the latest antic is. she talks to charles honestly more than arthur and takes charles to functions when she needs a plus one because they are both just wallflowers who talk shit about everyone else quietly. isaac sitting patiently in the principal's office having gotten in trouble for something stupid with the most passive aggressive slight smile on his face as he hears charles and eliza pull up (arthur got banned for threatening the principal)

i may need to part 2 this for dutch

[waters-and-the-wilde]

fuck it okay i am once again thinking about Jet teaching Nureyev how to cook

it starts with Juno trying to teach Nureyev how to cook, because Juno can cook and Nureyev realizes he's never had the chance to learn how and wants to make a go of it. it Goes Poorly not because Nureyev is a disgrace who sets the kitchen on fire, but because between the way he is as a person and the way Juno is as a person, it's an extremely frustrating experience. Juno Can Cook but that doesn't mean he Can Teach, there are a lot of concepts that he can just take for granted because of like growing up In A House and knowing What Appliances Do. he knows how to throw together some decent meals but not how to Explain The Process and Demonstrate How It Works, 'i dunno it just does okay??'

It's a whole 'can they assemble ikea furniture together' type thing, every time they try Juno gets impatient and Nureyev gets defensive and they wind up bickering and having to troubleshoot their communication again later that evening. maybe they manage to get through making what they set out to do but Nureyev doesn't actually feel like he retained any of the knowledge to be able to do it again next time, and neither of them really enjoy the experience which is a bummer for them both in its own right.

but Nureyev as a guy who can do anything he sets his mind to is like 'nonetheless i must learn to make a breakfast for my lady love for the days when he can't get out of bed.' and he starts watching Jet, who fields most of the family dinner type meals and has a sourdough starter and ferments things. he could ask Jet if he wants help, but it's hard enough trying to learn new things and make mistakes and be bad at things in front of Juno and he's feeling discouraged enough that he does not want to deal with Jet thinking he's just ingratiating and underfoot, or bluntly picking apart everything he's doing wrong, he might actually cry okay? he's already anxious enough about Wasting Food or Causing A Fire or Damaging The Cooking Implements. but if Jet says he wants help that's fine because Nureyev is more than happy to Be Available and in the meantime he'll do his best to absorb things by proximity

Jet does not know why Ransom is hovering in the kitchen watching him cook, but if he cared to know, he would ask point blank. and if Ransom does not want to be voluntold to help with dinner, he would not hover in the kitchen. Nureyev's nefarious scheme is working, insofar as Jet does not respond to hints but he does do what he wants and he wants help with cooking dinner. Nureyev is now in a position to Ask Questions, and the brilliant thing about working with Jet is that Nureyev can in fact Ask A Stupid Question and Get A Stupid Answer concise and matter-of-fact face-value response to something that might otherwise be considered obvious. and if Jet is being facetious, he's doing a damn good job at not showing it (and also he tends to save that up for Juno)

it is still a frustrating experience because Cooking Is Very Difficult and Nureyey is Trying Very Hard and getting distracted and flustered and making just the worst jokes around someone who does not think he is even a little bit funny and is not about to bother to pretend otherwise. and there is absolutely no one better for this right now. because The Thing Is. that Jet Gets It. because he had to claw his way into 'repetition and focus; control over every part' years ago. because it is abundantly clear to him that he is not teaching Ransom How To Cook, but How To Learn New Things When Not Under Extreme Duress. because Jet Has Opinions about Contriving Surprise Factors In The Learning Process and the moment Nureyev indicates that was how he was taught, his immediate response is 'then whoever taught you that that was very irresponsible and should not have done so'

(Nureyev gets very quiet and spacey for the rest of the day and eventually Juno storms into the garage spoiling for a fight, all 'what the hell did you say to him I haven't even been able to find him for the last three hours' and Jet very gravely relays the conversation and 'it was not my intention to upset him but unless he is able to communicate why he is upset, I am in no position to address it' but Juno's just still staring at him and then he sits down and then he starts getting the big sad-eye and then he's like 'never mind Big Guy. hey completely unrelated but can I um. give you a hug?')

[writtenonreceipts]

This is the chapter that kinda started it all, especially the flashback. I’m trying to make things move faster than they want to.  I think I’m just resigned to be that fic writer who never finishes anything.  Sorry you have to deal with me…

Find the Masterlist Here // Ao3 Link

Warnings: These apply to the flashback portion at the end of the chapter: language (nothing major, just more than I typically like using), war, blood, injury, minor character death, if you’re iffy/worried dm me or send an ask and I can summarize details if you’d like.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Where We've Been, Where We're Going--Part Eight  

The next few days continued in an easy rhythm.  

Rowan didn’t know what surprised him more--that he adapted so easily to the various tasks he had on hand or that he and Aelin had entered into a cautious friendship.

Though, to be frank, cautious was putting it lightly.  It was a situation he’d never found himself in before and he wasn’t sure how to proceed.  He made sure he wasn’t in the house when Aelin wasn’t and tried to stay out even when she was home, only returning when he had to or she sent him a message about an extra pizza slice in the fridge for him.  But he didn’t want to intrude.  Or he really just didn’t want to run the risk of letting something slip or proving just how incapable he was at being around other people.  

Keeping busy helped.  

Unfortunately, he didn’t sleep any better which was more of a pain than he’d let anyone know.    During the day he could distract himself with various tasks of making sure fence posts were even or he did a decent job installing windows.  At night, alone and in the silence, was when his mind would wander most.  It was here in the quiet confines of his mind that his memories came out from the shadows.

 For now, it was easy enough to keep to himself.  When he got too restless at night he’d go out and sit in the bed of the truck and stare out at the night sky.  More often than not, it was cloudless and he could watch the stars.  It was much as he did in Kovac only with different constellations.  

The only thing that really bothered him was ignoring the various texts and calls now that he was letting his phone remain charged up.  He’d only done it to keep Aelin appraised of his watching Meiri that one night.  And then, for some reason, he left the damn thing on and charged ever since.  

Aelin only sent him a few messages during the day.  Mostly simple reminders to eat something.  And then a few updates on Emrys as well.  Rowan didn’t tell Aelin he’d given Malakai his number already.  He didn’t want to run the risk of her not messaging as often as she did.

Which he realized made him a miserable ass, but he already knew that.

By the time two full weeks had passed since his arrival, Rowan had become a recognizable figure in Terrasen.  People actually knew his name and would greet him on the street or at the store.  Some would hire him out for odd jobs in their yards, even Sartaq let Rowan swing by to fix up a few other cars on occasion.

He was still helping get the motel up and running of course.  Emrys was still in rehab after some tests came back a little less optimistic than what the doctors preferred.  So, Rowan kept up his usual ritual of odd job help in the morning and hammering away at the motel until well into the night.

The routine was more helpful than he’d ever admit.

It almost made it easier to bear the memories.

Until his phone kept buzzing.  There was only one consistent number that reached out to him and after a while, Rowan wondered if he should just save the new contact.

Which was probably why he was currently distracting himself at Sartaq’s garage.

It was a late Friday afternoon with the usual summer heat and bright sunlight banking through the open doors.  Rowan was staring down into a nearly obliterated radiator and hose tear wondering just how poorly this car had been treated in the past when Sartaq finally broached a topic he’d much rather had avoided.

They’d both served in Kovac, Sartaq for such a short time and Rowan had been busy in sniper training that they’d never met.  Sartaq also hadn’t been in a position that could also lead him to potential harm.  Family strings and all.  Rowan didn’t begrudge the man for that--as far as he could tell, Sartaq would have been in the front lines even now if his family would allow it.  Instead, to keep him from getting himself killed, his wealthy parents let him land in Terrasen fixing up old cars.  Rowan had the feeling his new friend resented his family quite a bit even if he liked the work he was doing.

“Did you ever go to Orynth?” Sartaq asked.  He leaned over another car that had been brought over doing a general assessment on what would just be a break-check and oil change.

Rowan paused to wipe his hands on a grease rag, not really wanting to talk about the war.  But he figured Sartaq would be a decent enough guy to back off if Rowan started showing any signs of disinterest in the topic.

“No, but I heard it was rough,” he said. “One of my mates was reassigned there for a few weeks out of punishment.”

Lorcan never did say why Maeve made him go, just that he’d learned his lesson on the matter.  He did, however, share that they could all consider themselves lucky for not going.  Lorcan had always been that way: never sharing anything, never revealing anything, never opening up with vulnerability.

“Nesryn was stationed there for ages,” Sartaq said.  He often referred to his friend as though Rowan knew her himself.  As it was, she was a constant staple of conversation in the garage.  “Always said it was the worst place to be.”

“Isn’t she the one that would whip out a bow and arrow instead of actually using a gun in training?” Rowan asked.  In all honesty, he was desperate to have some sort of a good connection to his memories of Kovac instead of the blood and violence and misery.  So why not play into this conversation just a little?

Sartaq chuckled. “Yeah, probably.  She was only a translator so she never liked using a gun, but the locals had bows and arrows to use when their resources were so shitty.  So she’d entertain the kids when their parents were dying or after a raid when the Valg gangs would wreak havoc.  She was good like that.”

Rowan remembered her.  He’d never actually met her, only saw brief snippets of her or heard other soldiers talk about how she’d take no shit or stupid orders.  The one real memory he had occured after that damn raid that sent the rest of his military career into hell.  

He’d been kicked out of a debriefing and instead was trying to clean his rifle when this woman waltz through camp with a bow and arrow.  She had a bag full of candy and water on one shoulder and a beautiful handcrafted weapon on the other.  Kids tentatively approached while she put on a small show of all the odd places she could land and arrow from all sorts of strange positions.

It was the first time in a long time he’d seen the kids of the village smile.

“Yeah, Maeve got pissed at her for it too,” Rowan said.  He loosened a bolt on one of the spring clamps that needed to be replaced.  “Said she was being too distracting.  But Nesryn just shot an apple straight from a kid's hand.  Didn’t even look.”

With a fond shake of his head, Sartaq didn’t say anything for a minute. “You were under Maeve’s command?”

And just like that, Rowan felt an icy dread pool in his gut.

“Yeah.”

“I heard about her and that prick Hammel.”

Static started buzzing in Rowan’s ears.  He crossed to where there were some extra bolts and equipment waiting to be used.  Tacky sweat gathered on his skin and he wondered if he could get along with disinterested grunts the rest of the day.

“They were always so elitist, yeah?  Really careful about who they let on their squad.”

Sartaq didn’t notice Rowan’s dilemma in the slightest.  Which was supposedly a good thing.  If he didn’t notice then he wouldn’t ask about it.  

“How’d you manage to be a part of that little cadre?”

“I was a sniper,” Rowan said.  He took his time picking out a new bolt, clamp, and radiator hose that would fit the car’s needs he was working on. “Had the best marks, I guess.”

“Strange she’d let you go after getting her claws in you.”

“Proof we don’t always get what we want,” Rowan said, lightly.  He added a laugh, strained though it was.  

So, Sartaq didn’t know about that last mission.  Not surprising considering how long he’d been out, but still.  Rowan was grateful he didn’t have to talk about it.  He could manage a passing tale about Talbot if he needed.  But that last raid?  The one where he’d screwed up enough to be stripped of his previous honors?  To be dishonorably discharged?  That one he’d take with him to his grave.

…

It was late the next day when Rowan got a call he actually wanted to pick up.

He was back at the motel trying to figure out how to reach one of the window ledges that had not been planned out very well when his phone buzzed.  The only reason he knew who it was was because Aelin stood and watched as he saved the number.

MALAKAI steamed across the screen in bold letters.

For a moment, Rowan worried if it was bad news.  He wasn’t sure he could handle a messy phone call.  But then he managed to convince himself that Malakai certainly wouldn’t try calling him if it were bad news about Emrys.  He’d be too focused on Aelin and his son. So, Rowan picked up the call.

“Malakai,” he greeted.

“Rowan, glad you have caught you,” Malakai said.  The unspoken I didn’t know if you’d actually answer was particularly loud in the brief silence that followed. “I wanted to let you know that Emrys’ numbers improved and he’s being discharged tomorrow.”

It was a strange thing to feel joy.  Especially when it had been so long since the last time you felt it.  So when his heart skipped and all the tension eased from his body, Rowan had no idea how to respond.

“That’s,” he finally managed, “that’s good to hear.”

“I tried calling Aelin, but I know she’s on shift,” Malakai said. “I know it would mean a lot to her if she knew sooner rather than later.  Would you mind going--”

“I can do that,” Rowan cut in.  Hell, there was nothing he’d want to do more. “I’ll head over there now, I was just finishing up one of the windows at the motel.”

There was a beat. “You were doing what now?”

Ah.  He’d forgotten he hadn’t actually told Malakai what he’d been doing the last two weeks.  Everyone just assumed he had and Rowan went along with it.

“I gotta go.”  Rowan hung up.  He didn’t really like talking to people anyways.

He made quick work of packing up and ensuring the motel was locked.  The ladder went around the far corner of the motel near the alleyway.  Despite some rambunctious teens and the usual problematic people in a small town, nothing was really in danger of getting stolen.  Plus, Rowan would see to it personally if anything was taken from Malakai and Emrys.

He closed up his tool box and settled it in the bed of his truck before driving the short few blocks to the diner.

The parking lot was nearly empty aside from Nox’s car around back.  Aelin usually walked to work whenever she could.  Only a dark truck was in the lot and Rowan recognized that as Mr. Aguayo’s.  He always swung by to purchase an order of steak and gravy for his pregnant wife.

Rowan parked near the back of the lot, not minding an extra walk.  It was still warm even as the summer days slowly drifted closer to fall.  From what he’d heard, it wasn’t until October that the weather drifted below seventy degrees.  And then usually the first snow came in November.  It’d been ages since Rowan had experienced snow and he wondered what it would be like…

Though, he’d be leaving soon enough so it didn’t really matter.

Mr. Aguayo was leaving just as Rowan walked up to the door.  They exchanged a quick greeting--Rowan really didn’t know the man very well aside from his small landscaping business.  And Mrs. Aguayo loved her steak cooked at a medium rare.  And she often craved Funyuns too.

Once inside the diner, Rowan almost felt like home.  The 50’s aesthetic was just as garish as the first day he’d been in there.  The red booths and checked floor looked a bit tired, but clean.  

“Welcome in! Oh, Rowan.” Aelin rounded the corner from the back of the restaurant, dressed in her usual shorts, t-shirt, and an apron that had seen better days.  Her blonde hair was in a long braid over one shoulder, frayed edges poking out after a day of running between tables. “You here to eat?”

“Have you checked your phone recently?” he asked instead, though he knew that if she’d seen any messages from Malakai she would have already heard the news and would have been telling him all about it.

She frowned, scrambling for the pockets of her apron. “What happened?  Is it Marion?”

“Wh-No, no,” Rowan said.  He wondered briefly why her mind went straight to Marion, but he hurried to cross the space between them to reassure her.  He rested a hand on her arm before he thought better of it. “It’s good news, I promise.”

She stared at him with wide, blue eyes.  There was apprehension there, but trust too.  It had been so long since anyone had looked at him like that, trusting and open, that Rowan found himself speechless.

“Emrys is being released from the hospital tomorrow.”  He didn’t want her hanging on anymore of his words waiting for bad news. “Malakai just called me.”

Aelin released a shaky breath before she laughed.  And then, in a turn of events that Rowan had not expected, she threw her arms around him in a hug.

The first thing Rowan noticed was the fact that Aelin smelled like jasmine and honey.  The second was her soft curves and vice like grip.  And then he thought about how long it had been since someone had hugged him.

No one on his squad cared for anything other than the roughhousing or smacks upside the head.  He hadn’t seen either of his cousins since before he enlisted and even then, the Whitethorn’s weren’t touchy-feely.  And that was it.  That was everyone he knew that he would even consider hugging.  And here was Aelin who had been through hell and back hugging him as though they were friends as though she actually liked him.

And he had no idea what to do.

Oh he knew the mechanics of a hug and how not to be a complete robot in his emotions.  Somewhat.  But this was Aelin.  Who in just a few short weeks had come to actually mean something to him even if he didn’t know how to define it.  And he was Rowan who had only ever been a complete and utter screw-up.  In everything.

“Sorry,” Aelin said, pulling back while Rowan just stood there. Her cheeks were flushed with a mix of embarrassment and residual excitement. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.  I wasn’t thinking.”

Rowan cleared his throat, nose still tingling with the scent of her. “It’s fine.  It’s good news.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agreed.  She was still smiling but it was jaded now after he’d gone and made things awkward by not hugging her back. She brushed an errant hair from her eyes and didn’t meet his eyes. “Really good news.  I know they’re both ready for him to be home.  And Luca will be so excited too.  He’s been a mess since it happened.”

“It’ll be good for him to come home,” Rowan said.  This was the type of news everyone deserved to receive.  The type of news Rowan wished he could have given more than he did.

“Emrys always had that way about him of just making a place home, you know?  And giving me so much patience when I didn’t deserve it.”  Aelin exhaled slowly before looking at him. “Thank-you for coming to tell me.”

“I was glad to,” he said.  Really, it was the best change of pace from having to acknowledge another death.  And if it meant seeing her smile like that and have a bit of joy in her life?  Rowan would do anything for her to keep smiling, he decided.

“I’ve been a mess all week with his new tests going through,” Aelin said as she finished pulling her phone out of her apron pocket. “And Meiri is not enjoying daycare this summer, plus Marion--”

She waved a hand in dismissal and pulled up Malakai’s number on her screen.  Rowan should have left then, a part of him was screaming too.  She still had an hour on her shift, he’d told her what he wanted to, and there was still daylight left to try and finish another window at the motel.  And if not that, Murtaugh at the hardware store donated paint to help give the motel a new look.  Rowan could start in on that.  And yet, he stayed.

“Malakai,” Aelin said when the other line picked up. “Yeah, no, Rowan just told me.  He’s coming home tomorrow?...Good, that’s so good to hear…I’ll make sure Chaol brings Luca home…You too.”

She hung up, a small smile still on her lips.

“We’re going to have a welcome home party,” she announced.  She nodded firmly to assert her words more fully. “With chocolate cake.”

There was nothing that sounded more like Aelin than chocolate cake and parties.  Rowan could easily imagine that Aelin would put an overwhelming amount of detail and care into such a venture.  For the first time in knowing her, she actually looked happy and at peace.  Which, from what Rowan had gathered about her, was a miracle in itself.

“You’re going to come, right?” Aelin asked.

Rowan hesitated.  As of late, he’d never been one for social gatherings.  Especially not with so many people he didn’t know.  Sure the last few weeks he’d gotten to know many of the people in town.  But it wasn’t the same.  Not when the second the motel was finished he’d be gone and in California.

Crowds especially had been difficult and he’d avoided them ever since coming back home.  Most of the time he knew what his triggers were and how to avoid them.  Being in a crowded room could easily overwhelm him.

“I--” Rowan was blissfully cut off when the door of the diner opened and Chaol walked in.

The sheriff was only partially dressed in his uniform--the tan pants that most law officers wore looked a little worse for wear as they were stained with dirt, grass, and dark splotches that were almost certainly blood.  Instead of the usual brown button-up, he wore a plain white t-shirt that was a mess of dirt and dried blood.

“What happened to you?” Aelin asked when she took Chaol in.  

“Bad day,” Chaol said.  He scowled and ran a hand through his short hair.  “Told Luca I’d pick up food.”

It looked decidedly worse than a bad day but Rowan had a feeling Aelin was already gearing up to chew Chaol out.

“You have blood on your shirt,” she said, resting her hands on her hips.  She fixed Chaol with a glare that rivaled even the worst that Rowan had received.

Chaol returned the deadpanned stare. “It’s fine.”

Rolling her eyes, Aelin turned to head back to the kitchen. “There’s a few extra sandwiches in the back, give me a minute and I’ll do up some fries.”

“Thank’s Aelin,” Chaol called after her.  She waved a hand overhead to acknowledge she’d heard.

It was only when she was gone that Chaol sighed and ran a hand over his face.  He eyed Rowan for a moment before speaking up.

“It was an accident involving a kid,” Chaol admitted lightly. “Ten-years old.  Nothing anyone could have done.  And you know she wouldn’t take that easily.”

It was the simplest explanation he could have given, but Rowan could already paint an exact picture of what had happened.  Especially with how run down Chaol appeared now.  Rowan wondered why Chaol would take it on himself to use a filter around Aelin, especially considering her no nonsense attitude and strong will to simply survive.  Though, he’d try not to judge the sheriff too harshly for his choice.

He’d lived through his fair share of accidents. Accidents where no matter what anyone did it just wasn’t enough.

Rowan knew exactly what that was like.

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly.  

He thought, briefly, about spoiling the news of Emrys’ hospital release, but decided that would best be left for Aelin to reveal.  Besides, he needed to leave.  He didn’t know where he needed to be just anywhere but here.

Instead, Rowan offered a single nod and headed back out of the diner.  “Have a good night.”

Chaol frowned in confusion, gesturing to the kitchen doorway where Aelin had gone. “Do you want--”

But Rowan was already gone, lost to the heat of the night and the memories of his past.

…

There was a man dying next to him.

Rowan didn’t know him.  Rowan didn’t want to know him.

All he knew was that just moments before this man had been trying to kill him.  And he knew that now, amid the darkening shadows of the night, he was trying to say one final round of prayers.  And he knew that the blood seeping into the dusty ground was innocent.  Innocent.  Innocent because what right did Rowan have to kill this man?  Because of a raid that might not amount to anything?  Because of a war that had been drawn on so long that violence had become the only answer for any question asked.

The man’s final breath rattled wetly.

Forcing the man from his mind, Rowan pulled his knife from the man's gut and returned to his rifle.  He had to wipe the blood from his fingers first, but that couldn’t be avoided.  He slowly wrapped his fingers around the grips and rested his finger on the trigger.  When a soft breeze blew, the wet blood caused a chill to snatch across his skin.

Through his sights he could see the streets of the village they were about to raid.  Maeve was insistent the Valg gang that had been terrorizing this side of the city would be moving weapons tonight.  Rowan didn’t know where exactly the intel had come from, only that it was from a reliable source.  He supposed the dead man beside him was evidence enough.

Hammel had barely developed a plan besides watching the trucks that rolled in and out of the city.  Even though it had been one week since his arrival, the new co-captain hardly seemed interested in doing his job.

“White Hawk?” Gavriel’s voice came over on the coms. “I saw signs of a struggle.  You good?”

Rowan clicked his com in acknowledgement.

“Where’s Talbot?” Gavriel demanded. “Shouldn’t he have your back?”

“Taking care of a few spooks, sir,” came Talbot’s quiet reply, “circling back now.”

Rowan hadn’t been concerned over the kid making sure they wouldn’t have any more surprises.  While Talbot was a little younger than him, he was eager and a hard worker.  Smart too.  He would trust him with his life and not just because he had to.

“All clear at the North and East entrances,” Rowan murmured in his coms.

At his words he watched as Hernandez led a group of her soldiers through the street to the building in question.  Rowan had seen at least three targets circle back to the building over the course of the night, each either carrying something or pushing a cart.  The thing was, this area was family dense.  Someone could simply be transporting food or extra blankets or wanting to move in the dark without being seen.  

Then why had the man beside him tried to attack him?

Rowan watched and listened as Hammel ordered the entrance.  Half of the squad took the front and Gavriel led the others through the back.  It would play out like it always did: orders to stand down, not to move, don’t resist, watch the west side.

It was how it should have gone.

“Front’s still clear,” Rowan said into his coms, “Redline, what’s your status?”

Talbot remained silent.

“Redline?” Rowan repeated.  He switched to the mainline for the rest of the squad just in case the network was fritzing. “Talbot, check in.”

There was a flicker to the north side of the building the squad was raiding.  Rowan turned his scope in that direction and adjusted his sights.

“Lionheart we’ve got a bogie to the north, Redline is unresponsive.”

“Roger that,” Gavriel responded. “Keep your eyes open, White Hawk.”

Rowan tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that grew with every passing second.  Something was wrong.  He didn’t know what it was, but it was damn near palpable.  Talbot never went radio silent.  Not like this.  Hell, he had to remind the kid to stop talking when they were on stakeouts.  But Talbot was still responsible.  He knew his duties and he did them well.  

For one, brief moment, Rowan considered leaving his post and looking for the kid.  But with Maeve and Hammel watching, he knew he couldn’t.  All he could do was hope the kid showed up. Maybe his radio disconnected and he just hadn’t noticed.  Or he didn’t charge it properly before the mission.  It had happened once before.  Or--

“White Hawk?” Talbot’s quiet voice crackled through Rowan’s radio.

Thank the fates. “Where the hell have you been, kid?  I’ve been--”

“Found something,” Talbot cut in.  His voice was still distorted with a bad connection, static fizzing and popping horribly. “Had to make sure,” a loud pop of static, “something’s wrong, can’t reach Lionheart.”

“Repeat that, Redline, you’re breaking up,” Rowan said.  He kept his sights trained on where he’d seen the flicker of movement, knowing Gavriel was keeping tabs on the other side of the homestead they were raiding.  As far as Rowan could tell there was just a flickering curtain he’d already cleared.  And a flash of silver but given this part of the village that shouldn’t be a concern.  He’d noticed something similar, but it flicked so irregularly that he decided it was nothing important.  Morse code wasn’t universal, but Rowan knew most codes various countries used and there was no discernible pattern that he could note.

“Rowan,” Talbot’s voice finally rang clear and strong. 

“Talbot--Danny,” Rowan sighed, relieved. “What happened?”

“Think I was spotted,” Talbot said, “I came back around to see where the bogie came from.  Saw something weird.  Rowan, we gotta pull out.”

“Hold on kid.”  Rowan did a sweep of the surrounding area but didn’t see anything.  “Where are you?”

“North.  There’s a few Kovac soldiers dragging boxes around,” Talbot said as the static returned. “Rowan…I think they’re smugglers not--”

Talbot was cut off by something crashing on his end followed by a shout in another language.

“Talbot?” Rowan shifted, drawing one hand to his commlink and pressing it into his ear, as if that would help with the connection. When no response came Rowan switched frequencies. “Lionheart, we’ve got a situation.  I think Redline found trouble.”

There was a pause and a round of muffled voices before Gavriel responded.

“Copy,” Gavriel finally replied. “We’ve got it under control here, I’ll send Fenrys--”

“There’s no time,” Rowan said, nerves spiking despite how hard he was working to control himself.

Rowan was up and moving before the captain finished speaking.  He made sure to stay low and keep his position as uncompromised as possible.  The hot air whipped around him digging sand between his skin and the straps of his goggles.  Sweat trickled down his back as he moved.  Even at night the heat was unbearable.  

The discomfort all but faded from Rowan’s mind as he ran down the dusty trail than wound down from his snipers nest.  Underbrush crunched beneath his feet and sand picked up in thick plumes.  Rowan hardly noticed.  In a matter of minutes he was down from the bluffs and in the near empty streets.  He hardly noticed the weight of his rifle in his hands as he ducked behind the wall of a small home.  There was nothing to indicate any potential danger.  

He slipped around the corner keeping his gun ready and eyes open.  Nothing.  Nothing but the wind picking up and the sound of scattering debris.

“Whitethorn, what are you doing?” Gavriel demanded through the comms.

Rowan ignored him as he sprinted down the road to the building he last saw Talbot clear.  He was closing in by the yards, slipping behind doorways or abandoned carts when he thought he saw something.  He didn’t dare try and contact Talbot in case his radio crackled, giving him away.

On cat's feet, Rowan darted the last stretch of road to where he’d last clocked Talbot.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary--no extra footsteps, no strange sights.  All there was, was the faint, sweet scent of almonds.  But then it dissipated.  

Rowan was about to risk radioing Talbot just to see if he saw anything, or if he’d changed location when the first shot rang out.

The singular pop echoed through the otherwise silent night.

And Rowan felt his heart seize.

Time passed too slow as he dropped all pretense of stealth.  Another gunshot rang out as Rowan pushed himself harder through the streets.  He threw open the door of the house Talbot was checking.  Through his radio he heard Hammel and Gavriel both yelling at him.  The first to stand down the second to report.

Rowan focused only on his steps, his breathing, the tight turn around a corner and the body he found slumped against the wall.

Blood smeared in an aftershadow against the dark wood and already began trickling down in a slow, slow pull.

“Man down,” Rowan said into his radio, “medic needed.”

His voice was strangely calm as he said the words.  

His body too as he dropped down beside Talbot.  Already there was a pool of blood forming beneath the other man.  How, with all the layers Talbot was wearing, was that possible?  Rowan wouldn’t let himself think of the implications.

“Talbot,” he said, pressing his hands over the first entry wound he saw, hot blood wrapped around his fingers. “Talbot, look at me!”

With a groan and a cough, Talbot’s eyes fluttered open. “What’re y’doing, Whitethorn?”

“Applying pressure, you idiot,” Rowan said. “You’re gonna be fine, alrigh’?”

Talbot tried to laugh and Rowan pretended it wasn’t blood pooling at the corners of his mouth.

“Two gunshot wounds, gut ‘nd chest.  I’m not…I’m not--”

“Shut up,” Rowan growled, “I said you’re gonna be fine.”

His radio was going off with demands for answers, the eta of a medic, the call for a pull back.  Rowan ignored it all.  He should have been able to respond to some of the calls, should have multi-tasked, but all he could do was apply pressure to the wounds hemorrhaging blood and the way Talbot’s face quickly became ashen.

“Just talk to me, alright, kid?” he said. “What happened? We had the clear.”

Talbot’s head lolled to the side, eyes bleary as he tried to focus. “I saw him.”

“Who?  Who’d you see?”  Where was the medic?

“Thought my mind was playing tricks on me, he shouldn’t be here,” Talbot continued.  He weakly raised a hand to latch on to Rowan’s wrist. “Rowan--”

He had no idea what Talbot was going on about.  The slur of his words, the confusion--none of it was good.  Rowan pressed harder on the wounds, blood hot even as the beat of Talbot’s heart stuttered.

“We’re gonna get you fixed up,” Rowan said, “then you're gonna go home and see your mom, alright?  I’ll come visit, you can show me all there is to see.  Like that county fair, yeah?”

“It ain’t shit,” Talbot laughed, falling into a wet cough. Rowan held him down. “You should go to the mountains.  The mountains--”

Rowan’s radio crackled.  Medic on route.  They should have already been here.

“You gotta do something for me Rowan,” Talbot said, his voice growing too weak. “You gotta tell my family--”

“Tell them yourself.”

“Tell them, I’m so-sorry.”

Rowan stared down at his friend.  Slowly, the rest of the world came back.  The too hot air and metallic tang of blood.  The shouts in the distance.  The decrepit creak of wood where they sat.  There was noise and chaos in a world that just kept moving and Rowan…and Rowan…

“It’s gonna be fine,” Talbot whispered.

And then he was gone.

And Rowan had blood on his hands.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

tags still aren't working for me so if you'd reblog for more people to see this update, I'd really appreciate it. as always, i'm so grateful for ya'll <3

[silvermare]

If you know me outside of Tumblr, don't tell my mom

I said goodbye to my old car last night. Vivid green 2012 Hyundai Accent hatchback. That thing had stellar fuckin gas mileage (for a non-hybrid anyway, I could squeeze like 40mpg out of it if I tried), hauled around way too much shit, played FAFO with black ice, was stolen in Amarillo, TX and recovered south of Oklahoma City, OK - and for context, I live in Indianapolis - back in 2018, and transported many friends and even some coworkers. It also has had kernels of dry field corn in the floorboard for the past two years. Oh, and I broke the frickin passenger side mirror by backing out of the garage too close.

Her name was Arachnaverde because she was green and I kept an anatomically incorrect spider skeleton (halloween decoration) on the dashboard. Spood's job was to let me know when I was taking a turn too fast. He would skitter away if I did.

Prior to Arachnaverde, I had a 1994 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme that I called Madame Blueberry. She was a lovely teal color, had two doors, and I once forgot an entire watermelon in the back floorboard in college and it rotted and stank so badly. -4/10 do not recommend. Also her trunk had loose soybeans from when I took a few dried soybean plants for some reason or another. ADHD be like that sometimes.

Prior to Madame Blueberry, I had an unnamed charcoal gray 89 Mercury Grand Marquis. This car had one interesting anecdote, and 3 notable events.

In the long long ago when I was still in junior college (2 year college for people who live in states that don't fuck with junior colleges), I left it overnight in the college parking lot for some reason I no longer recall. When I retrieved it in the morning, someone had used car window paint to write "HOOPTY" on the back windshield. To be fair, it was.

That car was how I learned not to leave a can of silly string in a hot car. Did you know if a can of silly string gets hot enough it will straight up explode? I didn't until I found a really messy plastic bag and blue spatters all over the roof of my car.

I used to park under a specific tree in front of the house, because I lived with my parents on a farm, and the garage was for my mom's vehicle, no one else's. Dad's main ride parked in the patch of ground between the barnyard fence and the garage (dad's parking spot, mostly), and the farm truck parked in the barnyard. Anyway, point is, I parked under a tree which worked quite well for many years except at the very end a large fragment of dead tree pierced my car *right* in front of the hood so I had a rough rectangle of Missing Car for the tail end of my ownership.

Anyway, I've known for months that I needed to get a new car. Needed new front struts, a replacement sensor in the steering column, new back brakes, new front tires.... I tried back in May but for some reason the car I found just didn't vibe with me (Mitsubishi Mirage). It was kinda noisy, very basic. Also very cheap.

Last week, the stars aligned and I found a hopeful prospect with low mileage, decent mpg, and within my budget.

So now I have a new-to-me brick of tofu (white Kia Soul 2020).

I have said my farewells to the green beast, and look forward to what kind of adventures I'll get into with the as-of-yet-unnamed toaster.

So far the best name I've come up with is Tofungus because I am awful. I definitely want to give it a black horizontal stripe and add the "Fujiwara Tofu Shop" decal to the side because i'm a fuckin weeb and also did you know there's a sequel to Initial D this season? I'm enjoying it.

[nancypullen]

Well, Hey There!

Gosh, I let the last few days get away from me and this poor ol' blog paid the price. I don't even have anything exciting to report, I've just been puttering - a bit in the yard, a bit in the house, even did a little Xmas shopping, but mostly a whole lot of nothing.

A decision was made that we would not be joining the Y, so I'm trying to discipline myself into at least a 30 minute dance workout every day. Let's just say I'm not very disciplined. There's a treadmill in the garage that works perfectly fine and I really don't mind turning on some music or a podcast and killing 30 minutes on it. Unfortunately I can always find something else that I want to do more - like reading, painting, watching a murder show, writing limericks, picking fuzz out of my navel, watching clouds, naming birds at the birdfeeder...see? Busy, busy. Speaking of that treadmill, until recently it was blocked by that desk/hutch combo that I bought at an auction for 7 dollars.

I finally painted it and got it moved into my craft room!

I'm still organizing it and will probably switch the items on the shelves until I'm satisfied. I'll move that basket out from under the desk too. I suppose it's the lighting, but the handles and knobs really do match. Know what my favorite bit is?

The bottles.

Those are just old Starbucks bottles. I painted the lids with the same paint I used on the desk and then sorted my buttons into them. I need a couple more for black and brown, so I have to keep drinking.

I'm tickled with the extra storage (the drawers are so tidy!) and I love it when organization can be pretty.

The drawers have glues, scissors, blank cards & envelopes, cardstock for printing my dead people, etc. The shelves hold everything else I use for my silly cards.

My paper is sorted in those clear bins on the right - I only bought four, so it's sorted into florals, patterns, holidays, and "special" stuff like maps, sheet music, and that sort of thing. I didn't have to buy anything else, the baskets and stuff were hanging around the house waiting for a job to do. The wooden crate holding markers, colored pencils, and paint pens was gifted to me from Tyler & Jamie's wedding.

Remember that Goodwill print that I was turning into a witchy picture? I finally stopped dabbling with it and put it back in the frame. First I painted the frame black, and because I ruined the original mat (oops) I had to fish around and find one that would work. Nothing I had on hand fit the print and I wasn't about to buy a new mat, so I edged the print with gingham and lace (my answer for everything) and slapped it in the frame.

Poor photography skills, but you get the idea. What was once a prim and proper street scene is now giving Halloween vibes. now it can go into the back of a closet with the rest of them. Why do I do this?? I should take them all and donate them back to Goodwill and let them find homes. I'm home alone. For the last two days Mickey has been out day and night snapping photos of Summerfest, Denton's big bash marking the end of summer. I hope Mother Nature sees it and turns the heat down. It's been drizzling on and off today, so I'm sure everything is steamy. No, thank you. Hard pass. There will be a handful of vendors selling stuff I don't need, no decent food or food trucks, a decent selection of bands playing at different times and on different stages, a great area for kids with slides and bouncy houses, and at the end of the night, fireworks. I may go sit on the front porch later and take a peek at the fireworks. I was spoiled by attending the Wilson County Fair every August , that was always the official goodbye to summer for us, even though the weather didn't break until a month later. Annnd speaking of weather, I saw that The Old Farmers' Almanac issued their winter forecast. I was disappointed.

We're up there under "Mild,Wet". Every year I cross my fingers for "Cold, Above Average Snowfall" and it never happens. Thanks to Climate Change I think it's going to become rare if not extinct.

Oh well, I need to tidy up a bit and then choose a movie to watch with the girls. This is who I mean by "the girls."

They keep begging for the BBC version of Jane Austen's Persuasion, so it looks like tonight is the night. I'll try to think of something more interesting to write about tomorrow. The rest of the week may be a wash. We're getting the grandgirl on Monday and returning her Thursday, so I'll be busy and tired. It's her last week before school starts so there needs to be some fun. She's had a great summer, vacation and camps, but we'll have some Grancy-style fun. Look at these cute sprinkles I picked up for back-to-school cupcakes. Perfect for a first grader!

I'll have to see if there's a movie playing that she might be interested in, and I'll bet she'd like to go on a treasure hunt in Target with me. The rest of the time it will be Barbies, pool, books, and probably some arts and crafts. The only things that she requested I add to the grocery list (I asked) are apples, pretzels, and pizza Lunchables. I have a feeling her parents may want me to get some veggies and good protein into her. Grandpa sees nothing wrong with that list. If I turn my back he'll have her at the 7-11 getting a blue Icee right before dinner. Anywayyyy, I'm rambling. I'll wrap this up by saying that I hope your Saturday evening is a delight. If that means running wild with friends or being in your jammies by sundown, I hope you love every minute of it. Sending out loads of love tonight. Take what you need and pass it on. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[stumblngrumbl]

some people say "dirt poor" but i've got a decent pile

it's not really a compost pile because we put most of our kitchen scraps straight into the chicken coop

that little thing sticking out in front is where the "compost goes" and despite getting something dumped in there almost every day there's nothing in there it's almost like something eats it

the chicken house (as opposed to more open run that's in front of it here) has straw as bedding; when it gets spoiled it gets tossed out the door (off stage here to the left) and the chickens shred it further,

every once in a while everything gets shocked out of the run - big job that's usually left for when things are more damp so there's not a ton of dust. the run usually gets scooped by shovel and tossed into the tractor bucket; the combination of wood chips and chicken manure is potent and with a bit of moisture it turns into pretty good gardening soil in a scant few months.

a couple weeks ago i found some squash grown last year that had been stashed in the garage... some of it was badly decomposed but some looked perfect lol

anyways i broke it up and buried it in the compost/dirt pile; as you can see some of the seeds are going nuts

they'll get watered and left alone by humans though i can't guarantee that the chickens won't scratch them up. it's likely too late to grow squash but if we have a lame (warm) fall they may have a chance and then we'll see how they hybridized, hopefully if they grow they'll be edible

[forestryfae]

like i LITERALLY JUST want to be able to get rid of the house. i just wanna get rid of it and not have to keep paying for i ad i wanna move somewhere i will actually like living and im not stuck at home unless someone "graciously" drives me, and get a job so i actually have money and can afford to save up money for thing i genuinely want and havent just taught myself to want because its cheap and its decent so i should like it, and to actually have a nice clean tidy house, and a car so i can buy some FUCKING boxes and plasic bags so i can get rid of all the shit i dont want and maybe even just straight up sell or give away the nicer stuff i dont want. like thats it. but i just straight up dont have that option cus i gotta make food for myself so i dont starve and i need to relax too so i dont literally burn myself out and i need to sleep and i have to shower and pee sometimes too like i JUST want to be able to clean the house non-stop for like a week straight. i just wanna put shit in garage bags and throw them out. noones gonna want fucking 1 year old hairdye or unused makeup or three identical mugs or a fuckton of reuseable straws and i dont think i have the patience to sell a bunch of clothes even tho theyre perfectly fine and barely used. unless people come pick up the shit themselves, in which id be more than willing to just give shit away if they did that so i dont have to deal with the fucking transport or shipping.

i just have SO MUCH SHIT and its mostly garbage or shit i dont want or use anymore. or its fucking gifted shit i dont want anymore because frankly, why is my only option to get any furniture always to either buy thrifted shit or be given secondhand shit from my family. its one thing if i want it but they dont even ask or show it to me first and they dont help me when i want something new and actually useful. they just show up and theyve brought me something and we thought maybe youd need it so well just leave it here and you can get rid of it if you dont want it. I PHYSICALLY CANT GET RID OF IT. I DONT HAVE A CAR. and im not throwing perfectly useable but ugly lamps in the regular trash. take it to a fucking thrift store you morons. get rid of some of your shit instead of giving it to me. if you cant manage to get rid of it without giving it to someone so youll know its safe or whatever the fuck then just. dont get rid of it. keep it yourself. dont give shit to me so i can borrow it indefinitely. like i JUST. want MY OWN PLACE. THAT I CAN FEEL OKAY IN. and not feel like its a pissing contest every fucking time someone comes over cus they GOTTA fill my house with shit, they just HAVE TO do shit without even discussing it with me, i literally cant say no i dont want visitors today without them showing up and throwng a bitchfit when theyre not welcome the one day i said i didnt want to see anyone, they dont take a no i dont want help with that as an answer and do it anyways, i cant even buy my own shit cus they take over and do everythig for me.

no fucking independence or control or boundaries or respect or basic fucking decency and absolutely no empathy or compassion at all.

i have to BEG them to come visit me and they still wont do it, but when i go grocery shopping and need a ride i dont get home until after 9pm and more often than not close to 1 am, and the ONE time i explicitly said i didnt want visitors was the one day mom showed up and threw a bitchfit cus i was upset. i told mom i spent literally hours every day crying and feeling anxious and awful and she just ignored it and forgot to call the doctor the one time she offered to do it for me. i dont even get to be a part of renovating the house cus mom and stepdad took over and wont talk to me and spent all the money and wont even talk to me about the money or tell me whats in the bank accounts unless someone else asks on my behalf. noone is willing to teach me to drive even tho mom nagged me when i was 17. i can literally not talk to anyone about my feelings or shit im worried about, i literally only hear about how its my fault somehow, or i get some useless advice that doesnt help cus it doesnt fucking apply, or i get an empty promise that theyll help and then nothing happens and im selfish for asking and nagging them cus they have their own lives and their lives cant revolve around me. which is so fucking ironic cus i dont even get a phonecall once a month to see how im doing or talk about things and i certainly dont get visitors unless its got to do with the house or that one time mom had a day off and apparently that means she can come visit with no heads up just so she can sit there and bitch about my dad or my brother. she doesnt ask how it was like living with them or how i feel about the situation or anything, its all them and their fucking feelings. its never about me and im made to feel stupid and embarrassed and childish and like a fucking moron any time i have emotions they dont want me to have.

and on top of all this i didnt even get talked to as a kid. i was practically useless and just something they leave unattended until they felt like yelling or screaming at me or wanted me to do chores or some other boring fucking activity that i didnt want to do. asking me how my day was or having a conversation or talking to me about something i liked or just regular conversations about stuff? nah fuck that do your homework and also dinner today is a fucking sandwich cus i wanna be in the garage doing my hobby and fixing cars.

and then i come home after having had a really good time at the inpatient unit im at, and its a mess and theres shit in places its not supposed to be and im up to my fucking neck in laundry and dishes and shes done something i didnt want her to do again, and i cant even complain cus i risk not having her help with the shit i actually need help with that i have no option in asking for, like grocery store rides or someone to feed my cats while im away or help renovating the house. i cant even ask for help to buy some fucking boxes or i risk never getting them.

like i JUST want a fucking car and license and i wanna get rid of this house and i want some godd damn boxes. literally the only things i need in life to be happy rn.

[surrexi]

am finally going to be officially moving back to san antonio, which is good because it's going to be easier for me to find a goddamn job, as well as help out my parents when they need it. have been in SA for the last week and half helping out because my dad had some minor outpatient surgery and then we also went apartment hunting. since i don't have a job yet my dad is graciously lending me his stupidly excellent credit rating and multiple pensions income and co-signing a lease with me and covering rent until i get a job. (yes i am stupidly lucky that my parents are the kind of people they are.)

we found an apartment i think i'm really going to like. it's a 2 bed/2 bath place so i get to still have a craft/office room, a small dining area off the kitchen that i think i'm actually going to turn into a reading nook because the kitchen has a counter i can put chairs/stools at for eating space, and an attached garage. like not a community-wide parking garage, a personal attached garage with stairs directly up into my second-floor apartment. also! there are no breed restrictions so no one will get pissy about my english staffy who i could have brought with me anyway because my therapist has officially declared her my emotional support dog, but also they just took a copy of the letter that says that and didn't make any trouble about me not having to pay the pet fees because of the fair housing act. and the dog park is pretty well shaded, which is good for south-central texas, and it even has little tunnels and balance beams like they have in dog shows, lol.

anyway i officially take possession of the apartment on june 19th but i'm probably going to be doing the actual furniture moving in the last week of june or the first week of july, we haven't scheduled it yet.

this is good because i have felt so. stuck. for a long while, and part of that was still living in college station even though it's not a great job market for me. also my internet in college station sucks so much and i'm so excited to get decent internet lmao. anyway here's hoping the move goes smoothly and that i like the apartment once i get all my stuff in it as much as i liked the empty version lol.