#craigslist girlfriend

[toydrill]

i miss her so bad

[badjokesbyjeff]

I never told my wife I had an ex-fiancee 

One thing I never told my wife is that I had a fiancee before her. It’s a long story, so buckle up.

It was the year after I graduated college. I was dating my girlfriend, Stephanie, for a couple years and things were getting serious. At the time, I had my roommate, Joey, but he was a Craigslist roommate. We didn’t know each other very well. If you asked me how I knew him aside from Craigslist, the answer is I didn’t. He wouldn’t even tell me where he grew up.

Now, no shit, on the day I was going to propose, tragedy struck. I adorned our apartment with candles and even set up a nice glass display with framed pictures of me and Steph on top. Before Steph came in, Joey walked in and tripped. He actually shattered the glass display and got some in his face. Steph came in a few minutes later as I was on the phone with 911. Fortunately, Steph is a nurse, so she was able to patch him up as the three of us went to the hospital together.

Joey would recover, but he had some issues with glass on his face. He needed some cotton gauze inside his eye, which fortunately the doctors were able to save.

Clearly, I put off my proposal for the time being, but Steph and I agreed to get married. Our engagement was hush hush. Steph’s hours were wonky so she took care of Joey when I wasn’t around. And I should’ve seen the red flags, but I ignored them. They’d hang out together with and without me. They’d be in Joey’s room and lock the door.

One day, I came home and all of Joey’s stuff was gone. He moved out. Steph wrote a note. The note said, “We fell in love and we’re leaving together. Don’t try to find us.”

I didn’t listen and I searched, but true to the note, I couldn’t find them. I’ll never know what happened.

Suffice to say,

if it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe

I’d have been married a long time ago.

Where did you come from, where did you go?

Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?

[foldingfittedsheets]

I remember the first time I got a missed connection. For those unfamiliar, Craigslist has a section that’s basically, “We met and I had a great time but I didn’t get your number.” I was unaware this existed until my coworker came in buzzing with excitement that I had a missed connection.

The post was along the lines of, “It was a hectic lunch rush and you were a friendly redhead who made us feel so welcomed.” It was definitely me. While the redness of my hair has been debated no one else on staff had any red at all.

The idea behind these missed connections is to reach out if you felt a spark too. I didn’t even remember the guy, but it was a nice flattering moment. My coworker evidently watched the page like a TV show, living vicariously and hoping to have a secret admirer of her own one day.

Several years passed and I was working at the sex shop. I was freshly dumped by my first girlfriend and feeling very lonely about it. I was working my shift alone in a dull haze when a guy came in. He greeted me and asked about toys.

I was showing him some when I noticed a sheikah eye of truth tattoo on the back of his hand. “Oh, I love Zelda!”

He looked surprised and we started chatting about it. He told me he wished he could play Twilight Princess but the Wii wasn’t accessible to him. That’s how long it took me to realize he only had one arm, and I just said that it was a bummer he couldn’t play that one and moved on.

We had a great conversation and I felt my spirits lifting as we chatted. I’d been so depressed and it was lovely to meet someone it was easy to talk to. He was right around my age and had the same taste in games.

He found a toy he liked eventually and left. A sudden conviction took hold of me. He was absolutely going to post a missed connection. That fun conversation is what straight people would consider flirting. I told my roommates when I got home and they rolled their eyes. But I was absolutely certain.

I refreshed the page every few hours, and sure enough, there it was. Honestly it does seem like a nicer way to drop a hint to a service worker than asking them out on the spot. He said to name his tattoo if it was me and I wanted to hit him up.

I responded to say that I was gay but that I’d love to hang out and play games, that I’d really enjoyed the conversation and it was the first bright spot I’d had in a while.

He never wrote back.

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Room Away

Requested Here!

Edit: Part 2 Here

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: Tired of Tim's bad moods, Angela gets him a new roommate: you. As Tim gets to know you and learns about your past, you slowly become more than his roommate.

Warnings: mentions of past domestic abuse (reader and Tim), reader has chronic migraines from past head trauma, nightmares, reader has a panic attack, angst, fluff, Nyla and Angela. (roommates to lovers)

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

A/N: Parts of this are so self-indulgent. The migraine depictions are based on my migraines, but I think they're some of the most common symptoms. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! (I'm still trying to get Tim's character down, so apologies if he's OOC.)🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Tim sits in the back of the room for roll call, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as unimpressed sighs escape him. Angela is getting tired of his seemingly perpetual bad mood. Clearly, he’s lonely, but he will never admit it. And that loneliness makes him mopey and broody (Angela’s official motto for Tim Bradford) until he has enough and snaps at someone.

Sitting at her desk, Angela watches Tim yell at a boot. He’s always harsh with them, trying to prepare them for anything, but now he’s using them as punching bags for his forbidden feelings. 

“What’s his problem? He’s grumpier than usual,” Nyla says as she joins Angela.

“He’s lonely,” Angela answers. “Won’t admit it or do anything about it.”

“That man needs a girlfriend,” Nyla muses.

Angela sits up straighter and smiles. “You’re a genius, Harper.”

“I know.”

Angela opens a website on her computer, and Nyla pulls up a seat to watch her intervention into Tim’s personal life.

“You’re going to rent out his spare room without telling him? This’ll be fun to watch,” Nyla says, laughing.

“He has way too much room for just one guy. Getting him a roommate and a girlfriend will surely help with.. that,” she finishes, gesturing toward Tim.

“A roommate and a girlfriend, or a roommate who becomes a girlfriend?”

“Either should work.”

“That’s your number.”

Angela nods, putting her contact information on the listing. “Tim would shut it down after the first call, so I’ll interview them, run background checks, whatever, and find the perfect one.”

“Well, Mrs. Right is always found on Craigslist,” Nyla jokes.

“This isn’t Craigslist.”

“Semantics.”

Angela posts the listing, and she and Nyla hope getting Tim a roommate will help nudge him out of his bad mood. He needs someone to talk to and bond with, but he’ll never come to that conclusion on his own. Which is why Angela considers herself to be such a good friend.

✯✯✯✯✯

Los Angeles is a big city, which is part of why you chose it without another thought. Full of opportunities and a chance of fading into the background, it’s the complete opposite of your home, which overflows with memories. The patched drywall you were pushed into, the stained tile where you thought everything was going to end, and the china cabinet with the shattered glass are left behind and traded in for a minimum wage job, a used car, and a lot of panic that you won’t be able to find somewhere to live.

You’ll need a roommate until you can save enough money for your own place. However, finding a decent place with a decent roommate is nearly impossible in your price range. Browsing online listings, you see one that could be promising. The information at the bottom says there is an interview process, which catches your attention. Sending a text to Angela Lopez, you cross your fingers for good luck before walking into work.

By the end of your shift, Angela has replied and asked you to meet somewhere nearby. You want to go home, a dull headache building at the base of your skull impairing your mood. But you also really want a better place to call home than the pay-by-the-month motel you’re currently living in.

Angela gives you a firm handshake as she introduces herself as an LAPD detective. She asks questions about your life, job, hobbies, and finally, why you moved to Los Angeles.

“I just needed a change of pace; was ready to leave my old life behind, find something bigger and better,” you answer, a simplified version of the truth.

Trying not to show it, Angela immediately takes a liking to you. Each of your answers solidifies her gut instinct that you’re a good fit for Tim. You ask why her name was on this listing if it’s not her house, and she follows your lead and gives you the truth, but not all of it.

“Tim, the owner of the house, is a coworker and friend, and I’m just trying to help him out while he’s busy with work,” she explains.

As you leave the meeting, Angela gives you her personal number, as well as someone named Nyla Harper’s number, “just in case you need anything.”

She texts you a time and address, telling you to meet her at your new place the following afternoon. You thank her repeatedly before driving to the trashy motel one last time.

✯✯✯✯✯

Parking outside the house, you fall in love with the neighborhood and the cute architecture of the home. Angela meets you in the driveway, seeming more nervous than excited. You realize she may not have been totally honest with you as you follow her to the door.

An incredibly handsome man opens the door, sighing when he sees Angela. He lets both of you in, seeming to trust Angela completely.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim knows he will regret opening the door, but the woman with Angela is beautiful, and deep down, a small part of him wants to know who she is and why she’s on his doorstep.

“This is your new roommate,” Angela announces, giving Tim your name.

“You didn’t,” Tim responds. “Please tell me you didn’t rent out my spare room without asking me, Lopez.”

“I won’t tell you that, then.”

Standing quietly to the side, you anxiously watch their argument.

“Um, sorry,” you begin, interrupting them. “But I can go, and find a new place, since this is clearly not what you signed up for.”

You move toward the door before stopping when Angela demands, “Don’t go anywhere.”

She gives Tim a stern look before cocking her head to the side. He sighs like he has accepted his fate, a tragedy based on his reaction. Gesturing for you to follow him, he gives you a quick tour before showing you to your new room and bathroom.

“I’m not home a ton, but when I am, I’m usually watching a game or just hanging out, so,” he tells you before trailing off.

You nod before promising, “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Tim wants to believe you, but he also thinks you’re pretty and kind enough that he wouldn’t mind seeing you occasionally.

✯✯✯✯✯

You cross paths with Tim a few times in the first two days of living with him. He’s struck by your beauty each time but recognizes that you don’t open up willingly, so he never presses you to talk. Content to be ships passing in the night, Tim gives you a nod before continuing out the door.

It’s your third night in the house that Tim learns your reserved qualities may not be as simple as a personality trait. Waking when he hears a strange noise, Tim listens in the darkness before deciding it’s your footsteps he hears. Based on the sound, you're pacing, so Tim gets out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He walks right past you, and you give him an apologetic smile before slowing down. Tim makes you a mug of calming tea, sliding it across the kitchen island before sitting beside you as you drink it. Suspecting you had a nightmare or some similarly disturbing experience, Tim reminds you where you are and that everything is okay in his own way.

Over the next week, you wake him up a few more times, thrashing in your bed or exiting your room once you wake. He nudges each time, offering to let you talk about it, but you never do. You always apologize for waking him, thank him for keeping you company and making you tea before you disappear back into yourself and into your room.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve lost count of the days and nights spent in Tim’s house, your sense of time thrown off by the continued plague of nightmares and the monotony of your days. As you wake up after a surprisingly dreamless sleep, you immediately turn your face back into the pillow. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, and everything seems brighter and louder. The migraines have been nearly as consistent as the nightmares since before you left for Los Angeles. 

Tim knocks on your door, and you groan as the sound echoes in your brain. He cracks the door, concerned that you aren’t up yet.

“Are you okay?” he asks, seeing your current state.

“Migraine,” you answer. “I called in sick.”

He closes the door to block the light from outside and lowers his voice to ask, “Do you need anything before I leave?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Well, call me if you do, or if anything changes, okay?”

“I will. Thank you, Tim. Have a good day.”

Tim nods, even though you can’t see him, before backing out of your room and exiting the house as quietly as possible. He keeps his ringer on, looking at his phone every few minutes as his concern for you remains at the forefront of his mind.

Angela and Nyla notice his usual grumpy disposition seems to have been replaced with concern for something, or someone. After he checks his phone for the fifth consecutive time, Angela decides to pry.

“How’s the beautiful roomie? Still just a roommate?” she asks.

“She’s not feeling well,” Tim answers.

Angela waits for an elaboration, but Tim doesn’t offer one. She looks at Nyla, who gives a knowing look. It’s obvious that Tim is softening toward you, but you haven’t made enough of an impact that he’s less grumpy or snappy. As the day continues, his usual personality returns, convinced that you must be okay, or you would have called.

The next day, after learning that you are, in fact, feeling better, Tim is back to his pre-roommate levels of anger and high strung-ness. To worsen his mood, you wake him up with a nightmare but refuse to let him in, not even acknowledging his kind questioning as to how you are. He’s worried about you because you welcomed his presence before, but he is also angry that you changed so quickly, and now you don’t trust him. Everything is piling on, and Tim isn’t sure how much more he can carry.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Just tell me something,” Angela presses.

“Stay out of it, Lopez!” Tim yells, his emotions reaching a boiling point. “I didn’t even want a puppy- a roommate! If you like her so much, why don’t you take her in?”

Angela waits for his shoulders to drop slightly before asking, “Timothy… is this because you don’t like her, or because you do?”

Tim’s jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare as he turns away, offering to go on patrol while Nolan and Celina go to the shooting range. Everyone seems to think they know Tim better than they do; Angela is pushing him toward you while you’re distancing yourself, and the push and pull is tiring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim waits in his truck in the driveway for a few minutes before walking in. When he walks in, you’re standing in the kitchen. He hasn’t actually seen you since the day of your last migraine when you stopped trusting him, and your sudden willingness to be in the same area confuses him. Anger and confusion rarely mix well; with Tim, it’s a fatal combination.

You notice his tension and knitted brows, chewing your bottom lip before asking, “Are you okay?”

Stumbling to his tipping point for the second time in the day, Tim takes all his anger and confusion over his feelings out on you.

“What do you think? You can’t decide if I’m worth trusting with something as small as a nightmare, and Angela thinks that I’m practically neglecting you,” he begins.

You swallow harshly as his voice rises, stumbling backward when he starts moving his arms. 

“Especially considering I didn’t even want you here!”

Flinching, you snap your eyes closed and catch yourself on the corner of the wall. Tim freezes as he watches you. Everything begins snapping into place in his mind: your nightmares and the distance added to your reaction to him yelling and moving his hand are all signs he should have noticed sooner.

Your chest is heaving as you take short breaths, and when you finally open your eyes, you look terrified. Tim steps back, keeping his hands where you can see them. You focus on him as you slide down the wall, cradling your head in your hands as you fight off bad memories and a growing headache.

Tim watches you before sitting on the floor, keeping his distance. He waits for you to calm down, willing to let you decide whether or not you want to talk to him. You finally look back up at him, but he doesn’t move.

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Can I come closer?” Tim asks.

You nod, and Tim slides across the floor, not wanting to stand up and look any more imposing than necessary. His knee presses gently against your thigh, and when you don’t move, he gives you a small smile – the first you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” you say, fiddling with your fingers.

“Please don’t,” Tim replies, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t mad at you, just angry with a long day. But that’s no reason to yell at you or act like that. You confused me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s on me.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat.

“Don’t. When I was younger, my dad took his anger out on me sometimes. I’m sure I deserved it once or twice, but I also know better than to treat people like an emotional outlet. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

You nod before saying, “My ex.”

Tim feels a protective surge at the idea of anyone hurting you, let alone doing it enough times that yelling pushes you to the point of a panic attack.

After comforting you with proximity and kind words, Tim offers to walk you to bed. Your hand brushes his as he opens your door, and you smile as you thank him for everything. It’s a minor change in your relationship but an important one.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim leaves before you wake up the following morning, determined to find out as much as he can about you and your past. He’s not necessarily being nosy, but he wants to know if there’s anything specific that could help or hurt you.

“What do you know?” he demands as he storms up to Angela’s desk.

“About what?” she replies, raising her brows.

“What do you mean ‘about what’? Her!”

Nyla leans back in her chair, glad to watch the unfolding drama.

“Tim, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Angela explains.

“Why’d she move to LA?”

“Are you seriously trying to find something wrong with her? That’s low.”

Tim moves around her desk, dropping his voice to answer, “I’m trying to figure out who thought it was okay to put their hands on her. Because she won’t let me in.”

Angela begins connecting the dots you left untouched. You ran from the person controlling your life, not your actual life. She knew that you were omitting something during your initial meeting, but she didn’t expect it to be so big.

“Have you been open with her?” Angela asks finally. “Because that’s a two-way street. I’ll talk to her if you want me to, but she trusts you, Tim.”

“How do you know that?”

Nyla’s eyes bounce back and forth like she’s watching a tennis game. She sighs before deciding to interject. “She told her! Sent her a text one night!” she calls out, smiling and waving when Angela and Tim look at her.

Tim nods, giving Angela the closest she’ll get to an apologetic look before leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Returning home, Tim is surprised to find you on the couch, in your work clothes, with your face pressed into a pillow. You wave your fingers without moving to acknowledge him, and he remains silent as he walks to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to be silent, it’s your house,” you mumble. “I’ll figure out a way to get to the bedroom.”

“You’re fine here,” Tim answers, setting a glass of water beside you. “Another migraine?”

“Skull fractured from getting my head pushed through a window a few months ago,” you explain with a sigh. “The migraines have gotten worse since then.”

Tim lays a hand on your shoulder, giving you plenty of time to tell him not to touch you. You don’t, relaxing under his touch instead. Tim takes a seat beside you, hoping to comfort you once more.

“Your ex?” Tim asks. 

You hum a yes, and Tim’s jaw tightens, even as he comforts you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into the police station, Tim’s wallet is tucked safely in your bag. Approaching the front desk, you say your name and are wordlessly handed a visitor’s badge before someone gives you directions. You don’t have time to argue, shrugging as you attempt to remember where to turn. Angela sees you before you see her, rushing to your side and looping her arm with yours.

“What are you doing here?” she asks happily.

“Uh, Tim forgot his wallet. I was just going to drop it off, but they sent me back here,” you answer.

Tim says your name, coming around a corner, and Angela pushes you toward him, joining Nyla as they watch your interaction.

“You know she was trying to get you a girlfriend and not just a roommate, right?”

Tim nods a thanks as he accepts his wallet, glancing over at your audience. “I’m half-tempted to make them think I kicked you out.”

You smile brightly, and Tim licks his lips to keep his smile from mirroring yours. His eyes tell you more than enough, and you’re happy to see him, too.

“Do it,” you whisper. “Just let me know when so I can play my part. Angela told me to call her if you were ever mean to me.”

“Have you?”

You don’t answer, opting to wink at him before stepping back. Waving at Angela and Nyla, you leave the station as they rush to Tim’s side. As they ask overlapping questions and talk about how cute you and Tim look standing together, Tim ignores them before walking away.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is pulled from his sleep by your panicked yell. He leaves his bed and barges into your room with no thought. His heart rate slows when he sees your teary face and tangled sheets.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you wipe your tears. “I just don’t know how to make them stop.”

Tim sits beside you, opening an arm toward you. It’s a bold move, especially for him, but you take his offer and curl into his side.

“Are- did you mean it when you said I could talk about it?” you ask.

Tim nods, and you tell him more, but not everything. You remind yourself that he’s your roommate and maybe, just maybe, he's your friend, but he’s not here to listen to all of your baggage.

“The last thing he said before I left was, ‘there is nowhere you can go that my love won’t lead me to find you.’”

“You know that wasn’t love,” Tim replies, waiting for your nod before continuing. “And I’ve got your back, Angela and Nyla are right here, and we won’t let anything happen to you. No matter what.”

Drifting back to sleep in his warm, safe embrace, you finally learn what it’s like not to be scared.

When you wake alone, neither you nor Tim acknowledge what happened. You’re okay with slow changes, as long as there are changes.

“Tim,” you say, interrupting him on his way out. “Thank you. For last night.”

“I’m only ever a call away,” he reminds you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your head starts aching around noon, quickly worsening into a full-blown migraine. When you’re ready to go home, it’s bad enough that you can’t drive. Sitting in your car and resting your head against the steering wheel, you want to call Tim but can’t find the strength to move.

Tim, meanwhile, returns home and begins wondering where you are. He calls, and you don’t answer, so he lets his worry control him as he gets back in his truck and drives your usual route. Tim hopes to pass you or find you waiting as someone changes your tire. When he gets to the parking lot of your job and sees you slumped in your car, he has to fight not to panic.

Rushing to the door, he’s both grateful and concerned that it’s unlocked. He kneels beside you, saying your name before bending to see you. Your eyes are tightly closed, but tears are still leaking out. 

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says.

You whimper as he picks you up, clinging to him until he lays you down in the backseat of his truck, buckling you in as well as possible.

“Hospital can’t help,” you mumble.

Tim wants to argue, but remembers what you said about the skull fracture. You’ve already been to the doctor, so maybe getting you home and comfortable will be enough.

After a nap partially influenced by unbearable pain, you wake to see Tim sitting by your bed.

“Why are you so nice to me? You didn’t even want a roommate,” you mutter sleepily.

Tim smiles, making you think you’re hallucinating. “Yet I got something better.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You don’t quite make it to work the next day. Walking into the station, you’re surprised when Nyla greets you first.

“I’m assuming it’s a joke,” she says.

You furrow your brows in confusion before you see Tim leaning on a desk with his arms crossed while Angela yells at him.

“Unless he really kicked you out,” Nyla adds.

You nod, walking towards Angela and Tim.

“No, you don’t get to blame me! I got you a roommate, a friend, a beautiful woman who could have been more than a friend, and you’re mad at me?” Angela exclaims.

Tim locks eyes with you, not changing his expression as he gauges whether or not her yelling is upsetting you.

“Can I talk to you?” you ask Tim.

Angela steps back, hoping to hear Tim apologize, but he stands up and gestures for you to follow him without speaking. Worried that you’re sick again, Tim waits silently.

“I’m okay,” you promise. “I just wanted to see you.”

Not believing something so simple, Tim shakes his head. “Tell me what happened.”

“I saw a guy who looked like him while I was driving to work. He was yelling at a girl outside of a diner, and it made me nervous.” You keep your eyes on the floor, but Tim gently raises your head.

“You’re not alone, and I know that things still seem uncertain, and probably will for a long time, but you don’t have to be afraid of anything while I’m here.”

“Then why’d you kick me out?” you tease with a pout.

Tim shakes his head, telling you to go before following you out. You wipe an imaginary tear before waving at Angela.

“No, you’re not leaving,” she says, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward her desk.

Nyla smiles at Tim, and he sighs before following.

“Tell me exactly what happened between you two,” Angela commands.

You look past her before tensing, and Tim immediately catches on. He follows your line of vision and sees Nolan and Celina booking someone. You shrink in on yourself, and Tim moves to block your view.

“Get her out of here,” he tells Angela.

Angela doesn’t wait before obeying, ushering you into the bullpen and out of sight.

“What’s the charge?” Tim asks Celina.

“Assault. Beat up a woman outside a diner,” she answers.

Tim’s jaw tightens at the knowledge that this man made you nervous this morning, reminding you of your ex. He hates abuse in every situation, but when you’re involved, his protectiveness and anger differ. Tim leaves before saying or doing something he’ll regret.

When he finds you in the bullpen, he takes one look at you before hugging you. It’s quick, but Angela and Nyla look at each other in shock.

“So, you’re good?” Nyla asks.

“We were never bad,” you reply. “Just wanted to get back at Angela for trying to set us up.”

“It worked?” Angela inquires excitedly.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Tim repeats, looking over at you. He shrugs as he concedes, “Okay.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Tim gets home, he drops his stuff by the door, raising his arms in question as he looks at you. “Not yet? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t made a move. How do I know you’re not just protective and caring under that handsome, gruff exterior?” you ask with a shrug.

Tim shakes his head, cupping the back of your head gently as he kisses you. You raise your hands over his chest to hold his jaw, pushing yourself closer as you reciprocate his every move.

“Because I don’t protect just anyone like this,” he says against your lips.

You kiss him again before asking, “Does this mean you can reduce my rent?”

Tim rolls his eyes, tucking you against his side where you’re safe from everything and everyone. 

[jacesvelaryons]

valentines

tom blyth x kpopidol!fem!reader

fc: jennie kim of blackpink

part two to english love affair

notes: and i’m back! you must’ve feared i’d never post again but i’m more inspired than ever. thank you for someone suggesting a valentines post, and for once im early. most posts will be coming from me soon!

please request, send me anons, talk to me, suggestions and what not. i do soc med aus and also written blurbs and have plans for stories about tom and his characters. ♥️

hope you enjoy! again please like, follow, share, and most especially reblog with your lovely comments to reach more and send me feedback/comments on anything.

divider by @cafekitsune

yourusername

liked by hunterschafer and 5,009,656 likes

happy valentines to my heart of heart, the soul of my soul, my best friend, the light of my life and more. my life has never been the same since you’ve been it, and i wouldn’t want it any other way. i love you @/tomblyth

user145 THEYRE SO CUTE

randomuser8 oh i’m so single 🤒

tomblyth i love you too, my sweet 🩷

↪️ yourusername i love you so much

↪️ tomholland2013 oh get a room guys 🙄

↪️ yourusername @/zendaya go get your man please

↪️ zendaya 🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️i don’t know what you mean

↪️ tomholland2013 HEY! 😭😭

jessicalxander dream couple!

hallebailey you guys are so perfect together

tayrussell send the wedding invites please 🙏

↪️ user7 HUH?

↪️ ynfan she’s playing we know y/n and tom are so busy to even think of it lol

tomblyth

liked by alexademie and 2.8m others

my siren, my muse. as another valentines rolls in, i never wish to take this for granted as another milestone simply and enjoy everyday i’ve had with you, my angel. my brilliant, talented, gorgeous, intelligent girl. i love you @/yourusername

jenaissante treating my girl right as you should 😌

↪️ yourusername love youu girlie pop 🫂

↪️ ynfan6 tom found dead in a ditch who?

user197 aww him following her in the studios to watch her produce so cute

johnnyjsuh and when are we getting that solo song y/n? 🤨

↪️onyourm__ark yeah @/yourusername where’s all that studio time going

↪️ yourusername trust it’s coming soon 🙏🙏

↪️ user67 she said this last time i hate ___ entertainment 😭

username9 she’s so pretty i wish to be like her when i grew up

antifan8 get this ugly off tom’s profile

↪️ tomblyth you have no right to insult my girlfriend like that. get out my page otherwise.

↪️ randomuser5 tom defending his girl as he should

user77 nobody send a truck in front her company she ain’t leaving her man

liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by tomblyth and others

oh how i love love.

usernamehere her apron is so cute does anyone know where it’s from?

↪️ random8 probably couture or something at this point or goop lol

↪️ user7 probably my mom made this

↪️ ynfan725 who’s momma?

↪️ user7 that’s the brand 😭

↪️ ynfan725 oh my bad ignore me lol 😅

user86 she’s so spoiled by him and he in turn manifesting this for me

random9 me next year

user7775 that cake must be so good and easy to make

↪️ fan721 i’m a pastry chef and make these and they ain’t easy lol

kpopfan421 ynnie what’s the name of your bear?

↪️ yourusername not sure 🤔 any suggestions?

↪️ user8 how about tommy!

↪️ yourusername lets go with that 😁

tomblyth

liked by mayahawke and 7.8m others

ynfan856 oh y/n you are so loved

random1002 the daily love notes in the mirror and countdown oh i’m sick

melissabarrera 🩷

oliviarodrigo how romantic!

rachelzegler putting in the effort blyth!

↪️ tomblyth anything for my girl

↪️ rachelzegler ofc because i’d steal her from you if you don’t 😝

austinbutler great job man

yourusername

liked by taylorswift and 10.5m likes

so grateful, i’m speechless.

alexconsani OKAY GIRLL GET THE BAG

↪️ yourusername learned from you sis 😍

user86 this has to be the most liked post on ig in a while

kpopfan454 do they have this on amazon lol

↪️ user1111 you checked craigslist or something i’ve given up 😭😭

random723 oh he has to be rich rich to give her that

↪️ user913 GOOD FOR HER!

hunterschafer you deserve this and more my angel

↪️ yourusername love you so much hunty im going to cry

[theorphicangel]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tags: enemies to lovers, college au, smut, 18+, slow burn,

synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @palesatan @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @amelialysm @crimin4llyins4ne @strawberryjuice9 @beezusvreeland @faretheeoscar @lunablackcosplay @t4naiis @peachey-pie @mcmiracles @hardlystrictlystarwars @migueloharastruelove @fruityfucker @kingtwhiddleston

series

previous chapter | next chapter

Chapter 5: Crime and Punishment

Miguel would be lying if he said that he’s been able to sleep well lately.

He’s been lucky to get any sleep at all.

He’s managed to fit into the college lifestyle pretty decently. He’s set up a routine that he follows religiously: Wake up, work out, coffee, read up on pre-lecture notes, lectures, eat, work shift, lab work, eat, study, read up on his post-lecture notes, sleep and repeat.

That's all he can do here. Ever since he’s arrived onto campus he’s been successful in maintaining a bubble away from…all of that shit going on at home. It’s been a pretty useful distraction.

But…something that he can’t consciously admit to himself, is that being in a bubble means leaving everything that’s going on at home on a backburner.

Miguel stares up at his ceiling from his bed, his hands behind his head, resting on his pillow. If he stares for long enough then he can just about match up patterns from the wall paint and if he stares for even longer than that, then they start to slowly move. He’s been awake for a few hours now, only managing to make it to around 3am before waking up or rather jolting awake. But he’s used to early mornings. Always was.

Unexpectedly, his phone begins to vibrate on his bedside table. He frowns, his alarm isn’t due to go off for five more minutes. Leaning onto his side, he peers over at whomever is calling him at this hour. His screen brightens up with the caller ID.

‘Gabriel is calling….’

Miguel stares at the phone for what seems like forever until it stops ringing.

A minute later, just when he thought he was in the clear, text messages began to come through. One right after the other.

Gabriel: (sent 6:56am)

- I know you’re awake mig’

- Look, if you’re not going to answer, fair enough, but you’re going have to face it and communicate with us one day.

(sent 6:57am)

- Just talk to mamá por favor. If not now then it’ll be worse at thanksgiving.

- Trust me.

Miguel places the phone down after reading the messages from his home screen. He chews on his bottom lip, a mix of emotions beginning to grow in his gut. He’s not sure what they are exactly but they seem to make up the familiar combination of anxiety, guilt and fear. He curses to himself under his breath, rubbing his hands across his face.

‘Por dios, you’re so pathetic. Tonto, what are you doing?’ [fool]

He can’t help but reflect on his avoidant behavior, he knows what he’s doing but he just can’t seem to muster up the courage to face his problems. He knows that going to college is essentially him avoiding his problems and he knows that he’s in the wrong for leaving his brother to try and pick up the pieces despite Miguel supposing to be the older sibling.

Falling back into his avoidant behavior Miguel pushes his thoughts away with a sigh and forcefully drags his limbs out of bed.

He’s about to head to the bathroom to brush his teeth when another text comes through from Gabriel.

And this one is impossible to ignore.

Gabriel: (sent 6:01am)

- ‘Also…why is your car for sale on Craigslist?’

- ‘For 69 bucks?’

Miguel: (sent 6:01am)

-What?’

/

“Girl, are you okay?”

MJ’s voice snaps you back out from reality and you stumble over your words in giving a reply.

“What? Oh, uh– yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

It was an obvious lie, but MJ doesn’t get paid enough to deep dive into your problems and judging by your body language you’d rather she not say anything at all anyways.

Telling your mother – or rather — lying to your mother that you had a boyfriend has to be one of the stupidest things that you have ever done. And trust me, you have done many stupid things.

But where the fuck were you going to get a boyfriend? And most importantly, who?

Lyla had suggested Peter at first and you had too but that was before you realized that he had an ever-growing crush on MJ. And like I said, you don’t get paid enough to care but you’re pretty sure that she likes him back. Now more than ever, you’ve been noticing them together, often third wheel to their awkward but cute interactions together. He’s nervous and chatty but she’s a good listener and you figure that they balance each other out.

Now only if you could find someone like that. Someone that your mom would believe that you’re dating. Maybe you should ask Peter if he has any friends who are available. Maybe you could–

Your thoughts are disrupted by the sound of MJ calling your name. You glance over to the counter to where she’s serving a customer and by the looks of it…it’s a very well-known customer.

“Someone wants to see you.”

As she tells you so, you can’t help but notice her tone indicating a tone of flirtation between you and this particular customer but once you see the look on his face, you know that it will never get to that point.

Miguel is the one standing by the counter and a chill runs down your spine when you meet his eyes. He’s staring at you, unblinking, with his jaw forcibly clenched.

Shit, you think, he definitely knows by now.

“Uh, sure.” You say, putting down the towel that you were currently wringing with your hands. As you make your way around the counter you try your best not to look nervous as you approach him.

“Outside.” He murmurs, his tone and face grave.

You follow him without a single word, a hole of anxiety opening up in the pit of your stomach.

The two of you make it outside, the bitter October air nipping at your bare arms. Wrong day to wear a short sleeved shirt, you think to yourself, attempting to distract your mind from the tension of the conversation that you’re about to have. You can feel your cheeks begin to go cold and you cross your arms in a failed attempt to maintain your warmth.

“What the fuck is this?” Miguel shows you his phone screen.

You could tell he was seething, despite him seeming to maintain his calm externally. His phone screen is open on a website browser illustrating an advert for a car and you recognise that it’s his car.

It was your advert.

You squint your eyes, pretending like you’ve never seen it before. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Don’t keep up the bullshit. I know it was you. Who else would do this shit to me for revenge?”

You shug, attempting to seem nonchalant. “Maybe you have a lot of enemies out there Miguel, especially with the way that you treat people.”

Miguel frowns, a crease appearing between his brows. He opens his mouth to speak yet you manage to beat him to it.

“How’d you even know that was me? It’s not nice to throw accusations around y’know?”

Miguel snorts. “And you know what else is not fucking nice? Selling other people’s cars!”

At the sound of his raised voice, you look around to see if there was anyone approaching. It was early morning, the morning lecture coffee rush awaited you in just fifteen minutes. By then you had to get rid of Miguel.

You were infuriating him by the second, it was beginning to grow clear that your innocent trick was not working. That deep pit of anxiety in your stomach began to grow larger and larger, your palms getting sweaty in the process.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have done it if you were a little nicer to people and if you hadn’t posted that review.”

“Oh, so it was you?”

Shit.

Miguel continues on. “It’s illegal to sell other people’s property without permission, you know that right?”

“Of course I do.” you lied. You stammer for a few seconds, searching for an excuse. “You nearly made me lose my job for fuck’s sake.”

“You didn’t lose it.”

“Nearly!”

“But you’re still here aren’t you?”

You groan aloud, not believing the words that are coming out of his mouth. “You’re acting like such a jerk!”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t even have proof that it was me. That’s not my email account.”

He clicks his tongue. “Quit the lying, it doesn’t look good on you. Plus, Peter told me you were looking for my car.”

Remember earlier when you said that lying to your mother about having a boyfriend was the stupidest thing that you had done? Yeah, well scratch that.

“You could get criminally charged for this, do you realize that? Attempted theft or whatnot. And then not only would you lose your job but it’d get you suspended from the university too.”

Your face falls. “I wasn’t actually going to sell it–”

“But it seems like you didn’t think about that did you?” His tone was venomous, sharp enough to cause physical pain to you.. You can’t help but feel as if he was getting some sort of pleasure out of this, out of threatening you. “Not so smart are you? I’m almost glad that I caught you, if Peter didn’t tell me–”

“If you’re going to go to the cops then I’ll take full blame.” You interrupt. “Peter had nothing to do with this.”

Miguel raises a brow. “I didn’t think you’d take full responsibility.”

“Yeah, well I don’t like to do bad things to innocent people.” you spat.

“Innocent?” He repeats. “Wow, tienes sentido del humor.” [ ‘you’re quite the comedian’ / you have a sense of humor’]

You bite down on your lip. “I'll take it down but you promise not to drag Peter into this?”

Miguel nods. “You have till the end of the day to take it down.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“You won’t call the cops on me?”

He shrugs. “I can’t promise that I won’t and–” Miguel points a finger at you to stop your interruption. “There’s nothing that you can say that would change my mind if I do.”

Your shoulders defleat. Great. You’ve just somehow managed to make your life a living hell all for the satisfaction of revenge.

“Oh.” He turns around to face you. “And for your information, I deleted the review ages ago.”

It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in.

Oh great.

“You fucking–”

“What? Bastard? Jerk? Go ahead, call me all of the names you want, nena. Don’t you think that you’ve done enough damage for once?”

Ouch. You’re not even sure how to respond to his last comment.

You remain silent as you stand on the curb watching Miguel leave, your fists are curled up by your sides. Your nails dig into your palms until it hurts, trying to distract your mind from the full tsunami of anxiety that paralyzes your body.

What the fuck do you do now?

You don’t think that your life could get any worse than this. Not by a mile. In less than 48 hours you’ve managed to be not only a liar but a criminal.

As you step into the cafe there might as well be a visible gray cloud over your head. MJ knows not to ask any questions as you return back to your station. She gives you a longing look, wordlessly asking if you were okay. Ignoring it, you keep your head down, trying to bite back your tears until the end of the shift.

‘Keep it in until the end of your shift.’ you told yourself. ‘Keep it all in.’

You: still nil*

Miguel: 2

*[point redacted due to illegal activity]

leave a comment to lmk if you would like to join the taglist!

[ghoststyles]

Missed Connections: SNEAK PEEK

New York, New York 1998

Why the fuck are you at the internet cafe? 

It’s 1:30 PM on a Wednesday, and your boss thinks you’re on a lunch break. After being talked off the ledge by your girlfriends while flipping through the Sunday Times after draining a bottle of cabernet on Friday night, you decide to take matters into your own hands. 

Your mystery man from the bar hasn’t left your mind all weekend. Replaying the initial interaction — a bit cold, on both of your parts. But the way he so easily opened you up and turned your night around kept you hooked. 

In a city of 7 million, the odds of finding him again were slim to none. So, you assess your options:

Going back to Mick’s.

Recruiting biker man to scour the city with you Ghostbusters style. He gave you his business card for exactly that purpose. 

Or writing a missed connections ad on Craigslist.

So here you are, sat between a high schooler instant messaging on AOL and an old man using Ask Jeeves to diagnose a very personal medical issue. Taking a deep breath, you start the ad.

Coming soon :)

[fluffvstheworld]

hihi! i had n idea so i was holping you could indulge me maybe... matthew patel with a (male) reader who saw him fight in the rockit and made a craigslist post to try and find him again afterwards? idk if it makes sense but i think it would be silly :-3

A/n: This was such a cute prompt to write TToTT hope I did it justice! I decided to use the original universe in this one because I feel like Matthew would be moping on his computer after losing to Scott

Note: Although no pronouns are used, it was written in mind for a male reader

Reader Trying to Find Matthew Patel on Craigslist After the Rockit

You were pretty excited for the battle of the bands

It was Crash and the Boys vs Sex Bob-omb, two of the most well known indie bands in Toronto

There was a lot you were expecting. Cool songs, the fun of competition, the excitement in the crowd…

What you weren’t expecting was a man blasting his way from the balcony towards one of the main bassists

As he got punched back into the crowd by Scott, landing himself fashionably, you finally got a good look at him

And to your surprise... he was quite cute!

A lot of talk started about his ex-girlfriend in the crowd, a league of exes apparently made in her stead. But once they stopped, the fighting started again

Along with a musical number!

You do admit it was quite catchy

Sadly the mysterious boy was defeated, sent back to his home only leaving $2.10 in his wake

But as you walked out of the venue in shock, there was only one thing on your mind:

I need to find that guy!

And the thought stuck to you like glue

At your home, at your job, on the bus, etc

Even now, as you lay on your bed staring up at your ceiling, the thought still continued its rampage in your mind

Your eyes slowly wandered towards your desk, most of its space being taken from your computer

You shut your eyes in thought for a moment before promptly getting up and sitting down on the chair. You were not going to wait any longer, otherwise you were going to go insane

Booting up the crappy piece of hardware was a challenge, but eventually you got onto craigslist and into the general tab, typing away

[Hey! The other day there was this guy at the Rockit fighting the bassist for Sex Bob-omb.. anyone know him? I think his name was Matthew?]

After you clicked enter, you leaned back into your chair and waited

And it surprisingly didn't take too long

A notification from your email made your heart jump as you quickly clicked onto it

[...Are you perhaps talking about me?]

You smiled widely. You finally found him!

[Depends. Is your name Matthew Patel?]

[...yes?]

[Then yes!]

[May I perhaps ask as to why?]

[Your musical number left a very big impression on me. Plus I think you're cute.]

Although you couldn't see it, you could tell the comment flustered him as the next email came back a few minutes later

[Oh..!]

You giggled a bit to yourself. Guess he didn't really know what to say to that

[Was that a good or a bad 'oh'?]

[..A good one I guess.]

[Well that's good at least haha. I was thinking... do you wanna meet up one of these days? I know you live in America, but I want to learn more about you!]

[Oh.. sure! I live close enough to the border.]

[Alright, it's a date then! Meet you back at the Rockit this Thursday?]

[Sure.. though I didn't quite catch your name.]

You smiled as you typed in your name and leaned back once more

[Well alright then, I'll see you there]

Your grin widened as you shut off your computer to process what just happened

You got a date! With a cute guy at that!

The grin faded as you realized you needed to iron out your clothes

As you scrambled to get up from your chair towards your closet, you smiled knowing that Thursday was going to be a great day

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

gemrot fake dating au where cleo posts one of those "hi im a weird trans girl ill come to ur thanksgiving dinner with ur bigoted family and pretend to be your girlfriend to piss them off" craigslist ads and gem snaps it up only to find out that cleo is actually incredibly annoyingly charming

[pompadourpink]

hi mom! i'm starting uni in september, i'm moving to a new city so i need to start shopping and all, but also my parents didnt really give me advice and im the eldest so im kinda lost, do you have any advice?? XX

Hello darling,

The ABC:

Uni is scary because your free-will goes from 8 to 90 in two months and freedom is intoxicating. Making up for lost chances can lead to bad choices (spending, dating, partying).

If your family failed to parent you, it is now your job. Autonomy is essential. Learn to cook, budget, clean, be clean, save, be a good citizen, make scary phone calls, keep yourself safe, prioritise.

No one will force you to get up and study, or hire you at 21 when competing with a bright 18 year old. Effort will not betray you (being a grown lazy gifted child will).

Have shared hobbies, from movie Sundays with a girlfriend to knitting with your sister. A social life is a happy life.

Trust your body, it knows. Stomach cramps mean we hate him, daydreaming means try, yawning means bed, not coffee.

The home:

Make a cleaning schedule, be open-minded and reasonable, do not do or say anything your landlord wouldn't like (I fully recommend having roommates once for exposure therapy).

If you have a neighbour your age, introduce yourself. Having that phone number will one day mean not having to sleep outside or getting a package stolen. Thank them with food.

Start documenting problems right away (photos, timestamps, screenshots, testimonies) as you may need to take action later. No emotions, you're just "worried about everyone's wellbeing".

Mould, vermine and leaks are enemies. Act yesterday.

Avoid big purchases. You don't know what the future (location, size, taste) looks like. Go secondhand, neutral, practical.

Avoid silly purchases: streaming, takeout, drinks, fast fashion. You will not regret having a downpayment saved in ten years.

If you ever need to do emergency laundry, put a bin or a bucket in the shower, add water and detergent (+ soda crystal for stains or whitening), wait an hour, rinse, wring, hang.

The shopping:

My grandmother has kept her house clean with a broom, bucket, squeegee broom wrapped in a floorcloth and Marseille soap since the 60s. When something doesn't work, look back.

Must-haves: cleaning (see #1 + cloths, soda, lemons, white vinegar, steel wool), hygiene (scraper, net, shower head filtre, first aid), night (good pillow, plugs, mask) supplies, freezer if possible, water filtre, reusable period protection, winter clothes, long chargers, sunscreen, friend living at home who will lend you tools.

Must-not-haves: anything trendy, collections (even books), a pet - don't let Felix keep you back, sleep over and study in Paris!

Have an emergency kit (+ whatever you need) + a smaller version in the car/at the office (with cash).

Fresh fruit, starches, a few types of frozen vegetables, of cans of legumes, of fresh, canned and frozen protein, a treat, something fun once in a while to experiment + a (bi-)monthly outing.

A couple of formal outfits. Large black dress pants, white shirt, dark grey thin jumper, pencil skirt, blazer, large coat, trench coat, loafers, heels, tall boots. Never slouchy or skin tight, plain.

Craigslist, Facebook marketplace, thrift stores. Spend a few hours making a perfect home board on Pinterest instead of listening to TikTok and taking what Ikea gives you.

The social life:

Make one or two real friends and cherish them forever. Support each other, travel, buy a house together, idk.

Don't be afraid to be/do things alone. You shouldn't be afraid of what your head says when it's not distracted.

Don't miss out on huge opportunities for people. Some are around out of necessity and will ghost you after graduation.

Do not try to impress, especially people you don't like and who don't like you. Do not do or say anything cops wouldn't like. Be a homebody who doesn't drink if that's what you want.

Do not try to educate those who will not learn.

Do not befriend someone who lacks confidence as they will make you pay for their jealousy, nor someone who wants a free therapist. Those relationships will be one-sided.

Befriend a couple of older girls. They will see through the lies of the people (men, classmates, employers) trying to fool you.

The love life:

The thirty-two year old man doesn't find you mature, he finds you inexperienced and malleable. Don't try meth thinking you're special enough to not get addicted.

If a date mocks you and you get mad, either that is who he is or he hates you. If you got mad, he is not for you. Your job is not to pretend you don't care so he can have a girlfriend.

Ask yourself if you would tell your best friend, mother, Taylor Swift, that he (hers) didn't mean it like that. If not, take a break from dating and think about why you think you don't deserve respect.

Don't forgive what you don't want to tolerate.

Don't try to force a relationship with someone who made it clear that he is, for whatever reason, not interested. You will be played like a fiddle until he meets someone he wants.

Don't try communicating with someone who is messing with you on purpose. No one ignores you for three days or sleeps with your friend or breaks your favourite necklace after an argument by accident. Also, your husband would never.

The daily life:

Have a clean e-mail address (firstname.lastname) for official biz and a casual one (f.lastna) for everything else, a solid password (Lanadelrey1984#) - change it yearly - and a list of the usernames and passwords you didn't pick.

If you don't trust your parents, block them off your account or open a new one when you turn 18 before they rob you.

Save a year worth of expenses, don't purchase what you couldn't buy twice now, don't replace what still works, give yourself week-long thinking periods before spending.

Get folders for your paperwork and keep them safe + take pictures for an encrypted Drive (beware of iCloud): diplomas, flat, car, big purchases, work, taxes, health, etc.

Print pics and make albums. One day, the app will die.

Mind your health. Exercise weekly (cardio/strength, ex: runs + weighted Pilates), walk, get more water, sleep, and fibre, take vitamin D, mind your eyes/ears/skin/teeth, stretch, leave.

Only invest energy, money, or time into what is worth it. FaceTime before the date. Get secondhand leather boots instead of replacing plastic. Drop the book after 100 bad pages.

Refuse conversations with people whose lives you wouldn't want, who happily overwork for a mediocre wage and don't know how old their children are. The handcuffs are homemade.

The job:

People will not forget how you made them feel and the world is a small place. Colleagues, clients, bosses will gossip: make sure it is for good reason. Dress and look clean, stand straight, be on time, never ever gossip, even when you were wronged.

Understand the power of sobriety. Be known for the success of your last project, not your bright skirts or temper.

Protect future you so you get the promotion/project/raise. No friends, no enemies. Smile, have neutral answers, make them talk, move on, make your IG private, google your name.

Lie. You don't avoid them, you eat lunch with your nana (hi Paula, no, I forgot about the hairdresser's), weren't unemployed, your father was ill, cannot go out, you have a birthday party.

Act boring with the jealous old woman or the obnoxious man. Take the fake compliment for a real one, don't understand the innuendo, have too much work to chat. Bullies get bored.

Instead of clapping back (see #3), be Cinderella, who ignores the insults and turns to Mr. No nonsense, who has been there twenty years, worryingly asking if Ethel is okay, I don't know what to do (no mention of ego, you're just distraught about her).

Sites to look up: Proton (mail, VPN, drive), Notion.

Love,

Mum

(PS - apologies if the she/he thing doesn't match you, this is a flexible plan for all of my children)

[bleeding-star-heart]

I'm not sure if we're supposed to agree with Gale's assessment of his backstory, but I sure as hell don't regardless

I mean, the way he frames it, we're supposed to think of him as on par with a world-destroying egomaniac bent on becoming a god. Except...Gale never intended to become a god. He just wanted more magic power-something he's been trained to do all his life. And when he found that there was magic that should belong to Mystra but didn't...his goal was to RETURN it to her. Which, in most logical minds, means he's actually pretty trustworthy with that power. The fact that Gale was wrong about the orb doesn't change that. And, oh, boy, Mystra's reaction does NOT make it better. Her response to her boyfriend trying to get her a present but failing is...order him to die "for the greater good". Essentially telling him to kill himself. Essentially, Gale's story reads less like an ego trip and more like someone in a REALLY toxic relationship. Like, in modern terms he's basically an autistic guy (because he gives off some autistic vibes to me a bit) whose boss happens to be his girlfriend. And he wants a promotion, but she won't give it to him. So, one day, he finds this beautiful diamond necklace on Craigslist and decides to give it to her, thinking this might get him a promotion. So then he goes to pick up the necklace from the Craigslist guy...only, it's Craiglist. So, there is no necklace, and the guy is a drug dealer, who ends up shooting Gale several times and dumping some bags of cocaine on him. And instead of being sympathetic, or caring, or moved at all, Gale's boss/girlfriend decides to fire him. And leave him to deal with the bullet wounds and bag of cocaine on his own. And later...well, you know. Yeah, I HOPE Larian isn't trying to make Gale out to be the bad guy. That's one parallel with Anders we do NOT need.

[foone]

Anyone else have a dad whose acts of love were fixing shit?

Like you'd come home from university one weekend and you'd be crying over failing a test and getting dumped your boy and/or girlfriend, you're broke, your car wouldn't start, and you think you're getting a flu. You get that all out and he doesn't say much.

But the next morning you wake up and he's like "hey I found a replacement starter on craigslist for 15$ and grabbed it when I went out for coffee, wanna get the toolbox out of the garage and we'll swap it in?"

And that's how you know he cares and loves you, even if he doesn't really show it otherwise.

[danime25]

Masterlist

From now on this is where I'll link my fics. If you find something on my ao3 that you want on here, just lmk.

RYGOS CHARACTERS

Ken:

Ken Seeking Barbie: ao3- Ken x Reader- +18

He's just Ken. Looking for his Barbie out there in the real world. Who knew you could find someone on Craigslist? Ken certainly didn't.

Whatta Man: ao3- Ken x Reader- +18

After a year together, Ken has been living happily with his Barbie girl, and nothing was going to change that for Ken.

I'm Just Ken (And That's More Than Enough): ao3- Ken x Reader- +18

Ken had it all. A long term long distance low commitment girlfriend that he adored, and now he was about to be the breadwinner with a degree in his hands!

Cherry Pie: ao3- Ken x Reader- +18

As punishment for Patriarchy©, President Barbie had given him a choice. Either he had to reap what he had sown and become a subservient little thing or leave Barbieland forever.

Sierra Six:

Someone To Watch Over Me: ao3- Sierra Six x Reader- +18

Six had done everything right up until this point. Everything he did was in Claire's best interest. Who would have thought that he'd risk it all for a barista?

You Had Me At Soup: ao3- Sierra Six x Reader- T for Teen

While in the Sierra program, Six never got sick. Now that he was adapting to civilian life with Claire and the woman he roped in to play Claire's mom, he seemed to be down with a bug of some kind.

Holland March:

Sweater: ao3- Holland March x Reader- +18

Holland wanted to spend a night out with his girl. She had other plans.

Break Your Dad's Back: ao3- Holland March x Reader- +18

Chiropractors were becoming the hot thing for the stars in Los Angeles. Not that he was a star. After hearing from Janet about the miracle that was chiropractors, Holland March just had to try it out for himself.

Give Me The Night: ao3- Holland March x Jackson Healy- +18. COLLAB WITH @drivinmeinsane

Like most jobs involving stakeouts, the night is going by slowly. That all takes a turn, however, when March finally pushes his fellow detective too far.

Don't Go Breaking My Heart: ao3- Holland March x Jackson Healy- 18+ COLLAB WITH @drivinmeinsane

Even during the most wonderful time of the year, Holland March can't help but be clumsy. A stressful hospital trip to set the detective's re-fractured arm leads an unfortunate revelation about his relationship with Jackson Healy. Part two of the Butterfly Effect Series. (Can be read as a standalone)

Richard Haywood:

Want You To Want Me: ao3- Richard Haywood x Justin Pendleton- M for Mature

Richard was tired of the girls. Girls at school looking at him, asking for his number at lunch... not when he had his eyes set on only one person. And he only wanted the other's eyes on him too.

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ANGUS SAMPSON CHARACTERS

RAY JENKINS:

Ain't That A Kick: ao3- Ray Jenkins x F!Reader- +18

Gavin plays a trick on Ray one night after drinks. Ray gets a little bit more than he bargained for.

ORGANIC MECHANIC:

Something So Right: ao3- The Organic Mechanic x F!Reader +18

Both of them knew that their love wasn't allowed, but that didn't stop them.

[trivialbob]

This week my sisters, my brother and his girlfriend, and I helped my dad get rid of some unneeded furniture. This meant carrying bookcases to my sister's Honda and a small couch and cabinet to my Ford.

The items I took are now on Craigslist for a nominal amount. I don't like dealing with people who shop CL's Free category. "Hey man, I live in Iowa and am thinking of coming to Minneapolis sometime in December. That love seat you listed is pretty sweet. Will you hang onto to it for me until I find a buddy with a truck who wants to drive 250 miles one-way for a free couch?"

Asking $10 avoids those responses. It also makes other people think they're getting a super deal. When someone willing to pay a few bucks does show up, if they seem nice I will even tell them to put away the wallet, though I might charge a "convenience fee" for helping load the couch into their vehicle.

Moving furniture is one of my least favorite activities. It's right down there with paying convenience fees or waiting for noobs in line at an ATM. What's our PIN, Delores? Didn't you write it down? Is it our dog's birthday? No? Gimme a sec, I'll remember. Should I get the $20 out of checking or savings?

However, my dad took us out for pizza afterwards. Eating free pizza is one of my most favorite activities. It's right up there with pressing the start button on a full dishwasher or sleeping in freshly laundered sheets under a heavy blanket. My desires are simple and easily attainable.

My other sister has one of the filthiest vehicles I've ever seen. She lives at the end of a dirt road. You can recognize her Chevy on a highway as it leaves a cloud of dust when she comes to town to shop at Target or get free pizza.

Sadly, my truck's interior is no better. It has so much dog hair that when that sister went to to put pillows and couch cushions in the back seat I advised her to keep wearing the mask that's required at my dad's apartment building's public areas. In fact, there is so much dog hair someone might think I'm fibbing about that couch coming from a pet-free home.

[sseanettles]

I struggled to choose (your wips sound so cool!) but I thought I'd go one of your original works :) so yellow rose manor?

haha aw thanks @rriavian! don't worry you picked a fun one!

yellow rose manor is going to eventually be a series, but it's going to be my take of what happens when you have a bunch of zillennial supernatural entities renting an apartment together and their ensuing adventures and shenanigans with all the plots rooted in real life issues of stuff like domestic abuse, religious trauma, addiction, etc. etc.

It's set in San Francisco, so the apartment is an old Victorian home that is haunted on a very structural level by the ghost of a murdered nine year old Victorian era girl who possesses the house because her body was buried in the foundations. So she's the kind of haunting where if you set up foundational stones in other places she can teleport the house to those foundation stones, she can change the very structure of the building to screw with you (moving doors, stairs, etc.) and is simultaneously everyone's mom due to her chronological age vs. death age and the WOULD YOU STOP THAT poltergeist.

Her compatriot and "dad" of the house is the "landlord" which is really just her old friend who solved her murder back in the 1800s and has taken care of her and the house ever since. His fun twist is that he's actually Galahad the grail knight and spends his eternity following the magically moving island of avalon to protect arthur and await his return. We have some good old loyal knight pining after his king situation here. The house moves with him and for now Avalon is magically posted out in San Francisco Bay by Angel Island and Alcatraz, not that mortals can see it. He is begrudging team dad, the tired and burnt out idealist who is trying so hard to not live up to his legend anymore and just be a guy waiting for his love to wake up. Because he's so burnt out about the world that if he tried to use The Greatest Knight Of The Roundtable Skills without those morals/guiding lights anymore, he's going to just hurt people. We'll see if his latest tenants/eventual found family can help him hope and believe again.

The other members of the house are a medium/witch who is running away from her abusive hyper-religious family and is the newest addition to this house (brought on via a craigslist ad because they need someone to purge the ghost haunting this house they just moved into, it's a really nice house with cheap rent and the landlord is never around, pleaaase?).

Then there is a vampire who has agoraphobia from pre-bitten times, was transformed only twenty years ago or so and HATES that this is the era he's gotta be starting out as immortal in. I have some heft addiction and prior domestic abuse arcs planned for him, it's going to be a good but painful time.

There's a werewolf who is Muslim and has the biggest golden retriever energy, and she handles her zoomies energy by playing on a very physical local recreational soccer team. It'll be a take on lycanthropy where it's viewed as a blessing/god giving you the power to defend that which you love instead of a curse, and she treats it as such.

There is one human in the house, his name is Kevin, and he makes sure that everyone has the appropriate meals and nutrition and supernatural existence requirements/enrichment. His running gag is that everyone he gets close to turns out to be supernatural, and he's so proud when he brings his girlfriend home to show off like hey look guys a fully normal human isn't she great? At which point Galahad walks in and just says "yeah so how did you of all people meet Doto the Nereid", and Kevin just loses his mind.

The first book will be called The House On the Hill and opens like this:

There was a house that lived on a hill. This was not unusual for San Francisco where nearly every house, apartment, office, and parking lot was, in fact, built upon a hill. It made for messy city life—parallel parking from an even deeper circle of hell, savage cardio workouts built into the weekly run to the local grocery store (if it hadn’t been demolished in favor of the latest hipster shop in a never-ending chain of hipster shops), and a sizeable yearly budget for brake pads. Nevertheless, there was still a house that lived on a hill.

[doctor-olivia-octavius]

HIS ASSISTANT

Chapter 3: The Meeting (Emetophobia warning!!)

Gideon sat in his office, checking his watch. He read 12:50 pm, realizing you still hadn't come back from the store yet. He was just about to call for you when suddenly the old rotary phone that was stationed on his desk rang, he picked it up and held it to his ear.

He listened closely, recognizing the voice on the other end to be one of his security guards which he had double as sort of spies for him. His heart dropped as he heard the information he was being given, his stomach twisting.

“Ramona Flowers has a new boyfriend.” The man said, the sound muffled from the phone. Gideon’s head began spinning, it finally dawned on him. He was growing affections towards you to forget about his ex-girlfriend Ramona who left him a few months prior. His blood began to boil, and his jealousy rose.

He hung up the phone before the man even finished adding onto what he was saying. It finally hit him that she wasn't coming back to him, which wounded his ego severely. Why wouldn't she come back to him? He was the best guy around, or so he thought.

He rose from his desk, storming over to the mini fridge he kept in the corner hooked up. He pulled out a bottle of Whiskey and poured himself a glass. He hadn't eaten since that donut you gave him around 8 which certainly wasn't good. His mind was racing, he didn't care about anything else at the moment.

He grumbled and groaned, downing his first glass of whiskey without even tasting it. Why did this have to happen now? Couldn't she wait another day to move on? He poured another glass sipping on this one slowly. The taste was horrendous, causing his face to scrunch up.

He grabbed the bottle and glass, sitting down in his chair and slumping. “That bitch.” He spoke under his breath, unable to grasp the fact that she left him. He had forgotten about her momentarily, being too absorbed into his work. He finished his second glass, already starting to feel a slight buzz.

He opted out of using the glass, picking up the bottle and beginning to chug it instead. He sat it down after a moment, hiccuping because he drank too fast. “She'll come back.” He mumbled, still in disbelief. His mind was in a horrid state, he was in between choosing you or Ramona which he never expected himself to be in that position. He came to the conclusion that his attraction towards you was only temporary and that'd he'd decide to get Ramona back. She was obsessed with him anyways, how hard could that be?

Gideon took another large swig from the Whiskey bottle, feeling the effects of it hard. He opened his laptop, hastily typing something into Google. He clicked the first link, his vision a bit blurry from the alcohol mixed with his throbbing headache. He maneuvered the website he was on horribly, barely able to comprehend what he was even doing.

He was certainly drunk, so he continued to sip at the bottle. Having downed half of it. He typed away furiously at his keyboard, writing up a post on Craigslist. He barely thought about what he was writing, just letting the words flow from his mind which included some very vulgar language.

Gideon's entire paragraph upon paragraph of post was all about Ramona, how he wanted to bring her back to him. To document how much she meant to him, not because he truly loved her but because he needed to own her like a trophy. It was his possessiveness, his jealousy getting the best of him. His girlfriend's weren't allowed to leave him, only he could break up with them.

He requested in the Craigslist listing for anyone else who had dated her in the past to step forward and contact him. He had no idea how long any of this was going to take, but he was too wasted to care. He finished the bottle, burping loudly and acting rather unruly. He was just thankful no one was around to see him. His vision went in and out of focus, his stomach turning. This would be bad.

Gideon fumbled with his hands, his body heating up. He loosened his tie hastily, close to pulling it undone and throwing it off. He unbuttoned a few more buttons on his shirt, chucking off his blazer while he was at it. He stumbled forward in his seat, his head slamming down on the desk. He groaned out of misery, pain, and worry. He had begun feeling ill rather quickly, something that would bite him in the ass later.

Gideon glasses cracked as they hit the laptop resting on the desk, causing him to freak out momentarily. He had other pairs, it was just a hassle he didn't want to deal with. He picked his head up just barely, taking his glasses off and dramatically throwing them to the floor which only caused them to shatter beyond repair.

His entire state was ruined, he was disheveled. His hair draping over his face, his typical well put together appearance a mess. He didn't look himself, and he didn't look well. Gideon's eyes fluttered open and close, eventually giving up this battle and resting his eyes. He fell asleep within seconds, snoring loudly which he never did.

_____________

You returned back from the store with an hour left to spare. You figured that would be enough time to get everything set up. You headed up to the seventh floor as usual, heading over to Gideon’s office to inform him you would be setting things up now. You walked nervously over to his office, unable to get the cashier's words out of your head. You wondered if he was really that type of man.

You arrived at his office, going to knock on the door until you saw it partially cracked open. You were surprised, he never kept his door unlocked. You slowly pushed the door open, peering inside to see the raven haired man slumped at his desk in an unconscious state.

You panicked, immediately rushing into the office to help him. Gideon passed out cold, his snoring had stopped. You ran to his side, placing your index and middle finger on his neck to check for a pulse. Your heart rate has spiked, your anxiety causing you to shake. You prayed he was okay, what could've happened to him while you were gone?

You let out a sigh of relief as you felt his pulse against your fingers, he was alive just asleep. You leaned over to whisper into his ear, not wanting to be too loud. “Mr. Graves, wake up.” You spoke softly to him, your hands now resting on his shoulders but he didn't budge one bit.

He continued to sleep, which worried you greatly. You had never seen him in this state. You noticed his disheveled appearance, eventually your eyes landing on something in the corner of his desk. You stood up, approaching where your eyes landed. You picked up the glass bottle, turning it around until the label faced you. You read that this was a bottle of Whiskey, realizing he had drunk the whole thing most likely.

You sighed heavily, unsure of how to continue on. You knew he wouldn't wake up soon, his body clearly too weak in the moment to do much. You couldn't bring yourself to leave him alone like this, in case of an emergency. Even though you despised Gideon you didn't have the heart to let him get hurt. You grappled with your thoughts, setting the bottle down.

You thought carefully on it, you knew Gideon wouldn't want anyone to find him in this state. You decided you would let him sleep longer, only calling for help if you found it absolutely necessary. You sat down in the seat in front of his desk, watching him momentarily while he slept.

You didn't know what to do still, you felt like he needed sleep but also that you should at least wake him up once to see if he was okay. You sat there for a while, doing nothing except watching him. You got incredibly bored, getting up from your seat and walking over to one of the bookshelves that were in the back of his office.

You grabbed the most interesting book to you, sitting back down and cracking it open to read to pass the time. Your gaze occasionally went off the page, looking bacl up at him to see if he was okay. Gideon would occasionally grunt and move around a bit, his head still against the desk. He rolled his head to the side at one point, his cheek pressed against his laptop.

You finally saw his face, his hair covering most of it. He looked so peaceful, his eyes shut and his mouth agape. You sat your book down in your lap, leaning forward a bit and getting closer to him. You brushed some of the hair out of his face, able to tell how exhausted he was. Then that's when you noticed it, his face was stained with tears.

This immediately sent a punch to your gut, your stomach turning. What had caused him of all people to cry? Someone so high strung. Your heart melted, seeing this humanized him in your mind. Your fingers ran through his soft locks slowly, admiring him. Your hatred for him was wiped away in this moment, only wanting to care for him and ensure his safety.

You brushed a hand across his cheek, caressing it for a moment. You had gotten so caught up in what was happening, not even considering the possibility of him waking up any moment. You were acting without thinking, letting your inner most desires do all the work. He stirred in his sleep, moving underneath your touch. His eyes began fluttering open, causing you to retract your hands from his head.

Gideon’s vision went in and out of focus, slowly lifting his head up to see you sitting in front of him. He was taken aback, but too tired to react physically. He let out a grumble, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He seemed angry and sad, as if he were about to explode.

You looked upon him as he slowly woke up, a smile creeping its way along your face. He most certainly didn't seem okay, but seeing him awake brought a bit of joy to you. You were about to speak when he suddenly cut you off, your mouth agape. “Get out.” He commanded harshly, not even giving you time to explain yourself.

“But–” You began speaking, trying desperately to explain why you were there in the first place. He cut you off again, this time staring you down. “I said out.” He repeated himself, getting frustrated with you. You weren't going to take this, you wanted him to know you cared. “You're clearly ill.” I responded, hoping for an instance that you would accept my pleas to help you.

Gideon furrowed his brows, sitting up in his seat despite his horrid state. He was still quite drunk, not thinking straight whatsoever. He rested his elbows on top of the laptop, intertwining his fingers together. “Shut up.” He growled at you, snapping his fingers suddenly and pointing towards the door. “I want you out of my sight.”

You couldn't understand why he was being so harsh all of a sudden, you knew he was mean but you'd never expected him to be this mean to you. You swallowed your pride, no longer fighting him on things anymore. You scooted the chair back, standing up. You headed towards the door, looking back at him.

He seemed to grow impatient with you, standing up out of his chair and stumbling towards the door. “What don't you understand? Are you that much of a bim–” That's when he stopped speaking completely, his stomach turning. He felt something clawing at his throat, forcing to come out. His cheeks puffed out, closing his mouth the best he could. That's when you knew he was about to hurl.

You noticed the signs instantly, trying to grab the trash can he kept in the corner of his office but by the time you grabbed it it was too late. Gideon coughed and in one swift action he threw up onto the linoleum floors, thankfully all of it landing in one place.

You panicked, seeing the mess and feeling sick yourself but knew you had to stay strong. Gideon stared down at the floor, his blood boiling as he realized the vulnerable state he was in. Everything was ruined to him in his mind, his life, career, his relationships. One slip up and he figured he'd be canned immediately from his own empire.

Gideon gripped the wall in front of him, clutching his stomach as he tried to stop himself from anything else happening. Tears beading in the corners of his eyes, he felt horrendous. The alcohol had left his body somehow, but he still felt the buzz. He was in such a fragile mental state, his ex-girlfriend finding a new guy mixed with the drinking didn't pair well.

He sniffled, biting back more tears from flowing. He couldn't be like this, not now, not when he wasn't alone. He didn't bother looking back at you, but you heard silent sobs coming from him. Which worried you immensely, you wanted to comfort him and to cradle him.

“I-I'll call a janitor.” You muttered out, feeling like he was about to yell at you for even suggesting that someone else witness what had happened. Gideon didn't say anything, only nodding slowly. You stepped over to his desk, using the phone that sat on it. You dialed up a janitor, explaining the situation and hoping they'd arrive soon.

In the meantime you stepped over to Gideon, placing your hands on his shoulder and arm and began leading him carefully back to his desk. You got him to sit back down, setting the trash can on one side next to him. You kneeled next to him, holding his hand and squeezing it tightly. You never would've done something like this but his sorry mental state made you feel something for him.

He appreciated the gesture deep down, but couldn't let you know. He instead pretended to be strong still, pushing your hand away from him. He didn't however let you leave his side, he liked looking down at you.

Within minutes a janitor arrived, letting himself in. He began cleaning the mess immediately, finishing his work within a short amount of time. The man left shortly after, leaving you two alone. Gideon looked awful, his face puffy and his eyes red. He was in no state to work, he needed to get home as soon as possible.

“Mr. Graves..you need to rest.” You whispered to him, knowing he'd be stubborn and refuse to comply. Gideon almost never took breaks from his work, finding it far too important to get away from. He always had something new to do, something he could improve on.

His face turned sour, immediately going to fight back against you. “I'm fine. I will decide when I go home.” He scoffed, turning his head away from you. “Please sir, you're in no state to work.” You begged with him once more, trying to get him to see the truth of the situation.

_____________

After forever of back and forth he finally agreed, but very reluctantly. You smiled once he did, thankful for the win. You stood from the spot were kneeling, calling the company you were meant to be meeting with in less than an hour and rescheduling it for a later date.

Gideon stood from his desk with your help, his arm around your shoulder as you supported his weight. You helped him out of his office, and to the elevator. It was far too early for him to be leaving in his eyes, but he knew he had to go home. You had used his phone to call his limo, knowing it'd arrive soon.

Once you stepped outside the building the long black vehicle arrived shortly after, to which you helped him inside. He waved his hand for you to leave and get back to work however you refused his request, climbing in the back seat of the limo too. “I'm coming home with you. Don't try to fight back.” You told him firmly, needing to set him straight for the time being.

Gideon was going to fight back but he knew it was useless. He let you come home with him, something he'd never do if he were sober. After a short drive the vehicle was pulled into his garage, arriving at his mansion. You were in awe, but had to push down these feelings to focus on him. Gideon was helped out of the vehicle, leading him inside of his home. He hated this..there was no way he was going to let you nurse him back to health…right?