#fit out leasing services | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 27 days ago

Text

Shifting $677m from the banks to the people, every year, forever

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

"Switching costs" are one of the great underappreciated evils in our world: the more it costs you to change from one product or service to another, the worse the vendor, provider, or service you're using today can treat you without risking your business.

Businesses set out to keep switching costs as high as possible. Literally. Mark Zuckerberg's capos send him memos chortling about how Facebook's new photos feature will punish anyone who leaves for a rival service with the loss of all their family photos – meaning Zuck can torment those users for profit and they'll still stick around so long as the abuse is less bad than the loss of all their cherished memories:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

It's often hard to quantify switching costs. We can tell when they're high, say, if your landlord ties your internet service to your lease (splitting the profits with a shitty ISP that overcharges and underdelivers), the switching cost of getting a new internet provider is the cost of moving house. We can tell when they're low, too: you can switch from one podcatcher program to another just by exporting your list of subscriptions from the old one and importing it into the new one:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

But sometimes, economists can get a rough idea of the dollar value of high switching costs. For example, a group of economists working for the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau calculated that the hassle of changing banks is costing Americans at least $677m per year (see page 526):

https://files.consumerfinance.gov/f/documents/cfpb_personal-financial-data-rights-final-rule_2024-10.pdf

The CFPB economists used a very conservative methodology, so the number is likely higher, but let's stick with that figure for now. The switching costs of changing banks – determining which bank has the best deal for you, then transfering over your account histories, cards, payees, and automated bill payments – are costing everyday Americans more than half a billion dollars, every year.

Now, the CFPB wasn't gathering this data just to make you mad. They wanted to do something about all this money – to find a way to lower switching costs, and, in so doing, transfer all that money from bank shareholders and executives to the American public.

And that's just what they did. A newly finalized Personal Financial Data Rights rule will allow you to authorize third parties – other banks, comparison shopping sites, brokers, anyone who offers you a better deal, or help you find one – to request your account data from your bank. Your bank will be required to provide that data.

I loved this rule when they first proposed it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/10/getting-things-done/#deliverism

And I like the final rule even better. They've really nailed this one, even down to the fine-grained details where interop wonks like me get very deep into the weeds. For example, a thorny problem with interop rules like this one is "who gets to decide how the interoperability works?" Where will the data-formats come from? How will we know they're fit for purpose?

This is a super-hard problem. If we put the monopolies whose power we're trying to undermine in charge of this, they can easily cheat by delivering data in uselessly obfuscated formats. For example, when I used California's privacy law to force Mailchimp to provide list of all the mailing lists I've been signed up for without my permission, they sent me thousands of folders containing more than 5,900 spreadsheets listing their internal serial numbers for the lists I'm on, with no way to find out what these lists are called or how to get off of them:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

So if we're not going to let the companies decide on data formats, who should be in charge of this? One possibility is to require the use of a standard, but again, which standard? We can ask a standards body to make a new standard, which they're often very good at, but not when the stakes are high like this. Standards bodies are very weak institutions that large companies are very good at capturing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

Here's how the CFPB solved this: they listed out the characteristics of a good standards body, listed out the data types that the standard would have to encompass, and then told banks that so long as they used a standard from a good standards body that covered all the data-types, they'd be in the clear.

Once the rule is in effect, you'll be able to go to a comparison shopping site and authorize it to go to your bank for your transaction history, and then tell you which bank – out of all the banks in America – will pay you the most for your deposits and charge you the least for your debts. Then, after you open a new account, you can authorize the new bank to go back to your old bank and get all your data: payees, scheduled payments, payment history, all of it. Switching banks will be as easy as switching mobile phone carriers – just a few clicks and a few minutes' work to get your old number working on a phone with a new provider.

This will save Americans at least $677 million, every year. Which is to say, it will cost the banks at least $670 million every year.

Naturally, America's largest banks are suing to block the rule:

https://www.americanbanker.com/news/cfpbs-open-banking-rule-faces-suit-from-bank-policy-institute

Of course, the banks claim that they're only suing to protect you, and the $677m annual transfer from their investors to the public has nothing to do with it. The banks claim to be worried about bank-fraud, which is a real thing that we should be worried about. They say that an interoperability rule could make it easier for scammers to get at your data and even transfer your account to a sleazy fly-by-night operation without your consent. This is also true!

It is obviously true that a bad interop rule would be bad. But it doesn't follow that every interop rule is bad, or that it's impossible to make a good one. The CFPB has made a very good one.

For starters, you can't just authorize anyone to get your data. Eligible third parties have to meet stringent criteria and vetting. These third parties are only allowed to ask for the narrowest slice of your data needed to perform the task you've set for them. They aren't allowed to use that data for anything else, and as soon as they've finished, they must delete your data. You can also revoke their access to your data at any time, for any reason, with one click – none of this "call a customer service rep and wait on hold" nonsense.

What's more, if your bank has any doubts about a request for your data, they are empowered to (temporarily) refuse to provide it, until they confirm with you that everything is on the up-and-up.

I wrote about the lawsuit this week for @[email protected]'s Deeplinks blog:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/10/no-matter-what-bank-says-its-your-money-your-data-and-your-choice

In that article, I point out the tedious, obvious ruses of securitywashing and privacywashing, where a company insists that its most abusive, exploitative, invasive conduct can't be challenged because that would expose their customers to security and privacy risks. This is such bullshit.

It's bullshit when printer companies say they can't let you use third party ink – for your own good:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2024/01/hp-ceo-blocking-third-party-ink-from-printers-fights-viruses/

It's bullshit when car companies say they can't let you use third party mechanics – for your own good:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

It's bullshit when Apple says they can't let you use third party app stores – for your own good:

https://www.eff.org/document/letter-bruce-schneier-senate-judiciary-regarding-app-store-security

It's bullshit when Facebook says you can't independently monitor the paid disinformation in your feed – for your own good:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/05/comprehensive-sex-ed/#quis-custodiet-ipsos-zuck

And it's bullshit when the banks say you can't change to a bank that charges you less, and pays you more – for your own good.

CFPB boss Rohit Chopra is part of a cohort of Biden enforcers who've hit upon a devastatingly effective tactic for fighting corporate power: they read the law and found out what they're allowed to do, and then did it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/23/getting-stuff-done/#praxis

The CFPB was created in 2010 with the passage of the Consumer Financial Protection Act, which specifically empowers the CFPB to make this kind of data-sharing rule. Back when the CFPA was in Congress, the banks howled about this rule, whining that they were being forced to share their data with their competitors.

But your account data isn't your bank's data. It's your data. And the CFPB is gonna let you have it, and they're gonna save you and your fellow Americans at least $677m/year – forever.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/01/bankshot/#personal-financial-data-rights

456 notes · View notes

silkscream · 5 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 12: LOOKING FOR THE NEW WORLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He was like a child despite being a man, one much bigger and stronger than you. Infinitely powerful, yet he could reduce himself into a creature of need so intensely that he’s convinced you that your touch is the only remedy.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, dubcon, oral sex, mentions of depression, angst, character death

ੈ✩ wc: 5k

ੈ✩ a/n: who else is sick of these two. i sure am

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

January, 2011

There’s a black cat that likes to hang out around your apartment. It’s small, a bit on the thinner side, with striking amber eyes. It reminds you of someone.

It nuzzles against your legs now as you sit on the stoop, nursing your third cigarette of the night. Tobacco for dinner and some leftover hot and sour soup from the last time Shoko forced you to get takeout with her.

“You gotta stop with those,” she had muttered when you had finished eating, excusing yourself for a cigarette despite the snow. “You’re gonna fuck up your lungs at this rate.”

“How extremely hypocritical of you.”

“The nicotine makes you more anxious than before,” she laughed. “And I want you alive in this lifetime.”

You’d smiled weakly in response. Allowed yourself one cigarette before bed and another that was shared with her before she left for Tokyo again.

Your stomach rumbles again at the thought of real dinner. The cat sniffing you meows.

“You’re hungry, too, huh?”

As if it understands you, it mewls.

You ash your cigarette and scoop it up in your arms as you walk to the konbini for cat food and multiple cups of ramen. Despite the odd looks you get around the store, no one bothers you or reprimands you for having a little fur ball attached to your shoulder.

The cat takes a liking to your apartment, immediately splaying itself on your carpet. You’d have to vacuum later if you were going to house it. Get a litter box, too. It was probably all against your lease, but it had been a long time since you had taken care of anyone other than yourself, and you were still lacking in that department ever since the previous autumn.

“Sorry about this,” you mutter as you pick up the cat, lifting it to the light. “Ah. A boy.”

The cat meows, as if agreeing. You decide to call him Jiji after the black cat in Kiki’s Delivery Service. A fitting resemblance. There’s an annoying, familiar voice in your head that tells you it’s a bit cliche.

The poor thing walks with a limp you don’t remember him having. There’s a deep cut on one of his back legs, probably left over from a stray dog that bit too hard. The flesh heals quickly with the slight of your hand.

He treats the place like a personal jungle, which is saying something considering how bare it is. You make yourself some subpar ramen, attempting to turn it into stir-fry with the puny vegetables in your fridge. It was something warm, at least. It goes nicely with the Asahi you bought. You’re allowing yourself maybe half of the six-pack tonight. Any more and you’d be inviting yourself to wade in a pool of pity.

You stare at the mini calendar on your fridge. The third of February is circled, taunting you. It wasn’t like you’d ever forget, but you marked it anyway as if to punish yourself.

You jump when the doorbell rings. It can’t be Shoko. She’d left for Tokyo days before, and there was no reason for her to be back so soon. Utahime wasn’t the type to show up unannounced.

For fuck’s sake, it couldn’t be.

You didn’t even tell him where your new place was. The knocks on the door turn to a rhythmic pounding you recognize immediately and it makes you want to start digging your own hole. Begrudgingly, you open the door.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, the curl of a lip hinting at a teasing smile. There’s barely enough time for you to process a response back because of how quickly he walks in.

“How did you know where I lived?”

Satoru grins, teeth and all. Annoyingly bright and shark-spiked, hair covered in light snow.

“I have my ways, baby.”

“You need to leave.”

Jiji cowers curiously by the foot of the couch, blinking at the new stranger. Satoru looks at you quizzically.

“Replaced me already?”

“Yes.”

He ignores you and plops down the paper bags he was carrying on the kitchen counter, like he’s done it a million times before. A bottle of rose, packaged daifuku. A carton of strawberries. For some reason, nearly everything in the grocery bag is pink.

“Got you your favorites.”

“Satoru, these are your favorites.”

“Ours, then,” he huffs childishly, pouting. “I was in town for a mission. Thought you would want to, uh, do something for his birthday.”

His last sentence is rushed like it’s an afterthought, but it’s the most damning one. You can’t help the rage in your veins when he says it. As if Suguru is dead or missing instead of flourishing on his own path. Rot turned to bloom.

While you glare at him, his expression is neutral, bordering on sheepish.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts, so.”

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you,” you say bluntly.

He sighs. “You can’t ignore me, forever, y’know.”

Something bitter crawls up the cavern of your chest at the same time something heats up. It wasn’t fair, the way he looked at you all pouty. It made you feel like you did when you were merely the maid’s daughter, wanting to appease him in any way you could. You feel slightly nauseous despite your stomach feeling terribly empty.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Have you talked to him?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs.

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a bit before you clear your throat.

“Thanks for the groceries, but you can take them back to your hotel or whatever. You can’t stay here.”

“I’m not trying to crash at your apartment, anyway.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Satoru?”

“Seduce you, I suppose,” he mutters. “I’m sure the hotel mattress I have would be better for your back. You can—”

“No.”

“Fine. Have dessert with me. A glass of wine. I just want to be with you.”

You curse yourself. Satoru is always tempting just by being himself, but you did really like the brand of wine he brought. Right now, you need a drink more than anything else.

Watching reality TV with Satoru is not how you expect to spend your night. The silence is uncomfortable, nearly suffocating. It’s not difficult to notice how much he wants to touch you, his fingers twitching on the fabric of your couch.

“Where’d this fucker come from?” He nods his head towards Jiji, who has jumped onto your left shoulder. You can sense jealousy in his tone, funnily enough.

“Don’t call him that,” you scold, rolling your eyes. “He was a stray. Got bitten by something so I healed him up.”

“How lucky.”

“Uh huh.”

Satoru clears his throat and thumbs around the rim of his wine glass. Fidgety. He leans closer to you, petting Jiji as an excuse.

“How’s the… independent study? Or whatever.”

“It’s good. I work at the greenhouse every other day.”

He nods slowly and pours you both another glass. It doesn’t take long for you both to finish the bottle. His cheeks are as pink as the daifuku, half-eaten and abandoned on a plate in front of him. You’ve graduated to playful quips despite your mostly guarded demeanor, feet hoisted on his lap as he rubs them absentmindedly.

“You should probably get back to your hotel.”

“Huh?”

You look at him. Satoru’s gaze flickers in between mischief and reverence. He’s also clearly not paying attention to what you’re saying considering his eyes are fixed on your bare shoulder.

“It’s late,” you sigh.

“Not that late,” he scoffs. “S’not even ten.”

“I have a lab early tomorrow,” you lie.

“...Alright. Wanna finish this for me, then?” He holds out the last half of the mochi and feeds it to you. He blushes slightly. You still open your mouth for him without having him to ask.

“It’s good.”

He nods. Leans over to wipe a bit of red bean paste off the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His eyes lower onto your lips as he sighs, right before he kisses you.

You let him.

He feels the same as he always does. It’s been almost two months since you’d touched him — the last time being inside a karaoke bar bathroom an hour after Shoko had convinced you to come out for Satoru’s birthday.

You had done so, unwillingingly, still not over the wound of being left and still angry with Satoru. Even so, it was still easy for him to make your knees weak, leading you into a random stall in the men’s bathroom while Shoko and Utahime forced Nanami to sing an 80s ballad.

It was your first time properly spending time with the underclassman, so it embarrassed you immensely to walk out with your lipstick smudged. You remember overhearing Nanami ask Utahime about you and Satoru, to which she simply laughed in pity.

They’re on and off?

Divorced right now, Shoko had quipped.

Gojo was married to her?!

Fuck no. He wishes.

“Sato—” you mumble into his mouth.

He shuts you up with his tongue against yours, his hand cupping your chin. You knew he would get you a little tipsy and probably make a move, and you knew full well that you would let him. He chased you easily even when he could have anyone he wanted.

His movements are sloppy and languid. Drunk, perhaps — he was a lightweight through and through. He groans lightly at the taste of you, how sweet you are like always. His other hand moves to your nape, clutching the back of your head to rest on the couch cushion with him hovering over you. Already, he was slotting his knee in between your legs.

Satoru could already feel his insides stir at the thought of being inside you again. It had been too fucking long. He was sure that his dick would probably melt once you let him in.

When you feel his hand underneath your sweater, you break the kiss. He sees it as an interruption rather than an end as he chases you, face leaning in again. He was pretty when he was drunk on you, eyes half-lidded like that. It was infuriating.

It takes you a slight push and a turning of the head for him to realize that you don’t want him.

“Why are you—”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I– I don’t want to.”

His face falls. You can’t stand it, how he looks like a kicked puppy. You refuse to fall for it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?” he tries. “To the hotel?”

You’d slap him if you could. Your hands don’t move an inch. They only tremble.

“I said no. I’m sorry—” Why are you apologizing? “I have to get to bed.”

He blinks at you, dejected. For once, he doesn’t beg. Doesn’t give you a smartass reply. He stands and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” he sighs. He wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t. “Sweet dreams, Twigs.”

June, 2010

There’s a funeral before you leave for Kyoto. It’s the first time you deal with the corpse of a classmate.

You’d watched Shoko work in the morgue meticulously, wrapping the body in plastic. You knew she was probably used to the smell of death by now. At that moment, you were both numb to it.

“You don’t have to stay here, Nanami-kun,” you told your junior softly. He’d been sitting next to you in a plastic folding chair with a warm towel over his eyes for nearly half an hour, saying nothing.

“It’s fine. Not like they’d dare to assign me another mission right away.”

You glance at Nanami now, dressed in all black, and his face looks even more tired than it was under the morgue fluorescents. Sallow and pale, his complexion matching Suguru’s.

You were all much too young to go to so many funerals.

The smell of death still lingers at the ceremony, too. It must be psychosomatic, the way the suffocating temple air makes your gut twist into itself. Yu Haibara’s smiling portrait stares back at you.

You’d never experienced anything like this before. You knew the cost of being a jujutsu sorcerer, the horror of nearly losing Satoru the subject of your nightmares. It was different for it to be real, to pick up the bones of a boy whose light shone so brightly with chopsticks.

Suguru looks older than he is. You noticed lately that the circles under his eyes have gotten worse, sometimes like a bruised purple in the shadows of his room. He didn’t leave it often, never opened his blinds despite it being summer. Morose as he is, he still looks beautiful.

You sit in between him and Satoru during the service. You shed no tears. No one does—the grief is all-consuming, wrangling everyone by the throat. You’re sure your fellow classmates are feeling numbness more than anything.

You crawl into Suguru’s bed that night. He almost doesn’t acknowledge you, save for the movement of his arm over your middle when you nestle into his chest. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower he took. He hadn’t bothered to put his clothes back on.

“You okay?” you whisper. “We missed you at dinner.”

“Migraines,” he mumbles. He’s been getting a lot of them lately. That or nausea. Another thing that was psychosomatic—Suguru could barely eat lately because of the nausea. Even when he eats enough, it’s there, as if the curses he swallows are making a cesspool of his gut.

He blames it all on heat fatigue, but you know better. Even with his model-like cheekbones, his face is starting to look a little thinner.

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Yeah,” he lies. He might’ve taken some gas station gummy just so he could pass out and maybe not wake up for twelve hours before you came in.

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair. It’s too wet for him to be resting on his pillow. You want to comb it for him, dry him with the towel like a beloved pet. He breathes shallowly as he revels in the feeling of your fingers across his scalp.

“Have you been drinking enough water?”

“Christ. Yes.”

Suguru immediately regrets his sharp tone the minute he sees your eyes flicker with meekness. He sighs, cradling you closer.

“Sorry. I’m just… fucking tired.”

“Yeah, me too.” There’s an awkward silence.

“God,” you mumble, almost to yourself. “What happened was horrible.”

“Ha. That’s reality. Could be any of us tomorrow, or the next day.”

It’s an awful thing to say, but you know he’s right. He doesn’t say it to be spiteful or insensitive, but his words sting nonetheless. It’s the air of bitterness you can sense from the lilt of his tongue. You know it isn’t directed at you, but it still feels uncomfortable when you’re trying to be affectionate with him.

He looks at the sadness in your eyes and makes an attempt to change the subject. “Do you wanna… watch a movie or something?”

“I should probably go to bed soon. I have an early mission tomorrow.”

“Seriously? After what just happened?”

“I don’t really have a say in what gets assigned to me,” you say sheepishly.

“We all keep throwing ourselves back into work. The very work that gets our friends killed,” Suguru scoffs. “And for what? For a bunch of weaklings? Fuck.”

You pinch your brows together. “Suguru–”

“They’re the ones making the curses, anyway,” he mutters. “It’s fucking ironic that we have to protect the weak but we’re the ones who are never protected. Always martyred, instead.”

“The weak?”

“Non-sorcerers. Us sorcerers exist to protect the weak—it’s bullshit, sometimes.”

“You sound like Satoru.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at that. “So I’ve really gone off the deep end, huh?”

“No,” you sigh, caressing his jaw. “We’re all just grieving. I’ve been feeling a little crazy, too.”

He looks at you earnestly, licks his lips. “Kyoto will be nice.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I suppose it will be nice.”

“Don’t you get sick of it all?”

“Of being a sorcerer?”

Everything, he wants to scream.

“I don’t know. It’s the first thing I’ve done for myself. I mean, for others, too—that’s the whole thing—but it means more. Like I’m… worth something.”

“You’re worth a lot more than that. You always have been.”

There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he’s also telling himself the same thing. You’re not exactly sure what he means. You like being useful, you’ve learned to like having to perfect your technique. You know you will never be as strong as Satoru or Suguru. You don’t know that Suguru is metamorphosing into something beyond his control, ever since he saw a bullet go through a girl’s skull.

His words stick with you as you fall asleep in his bed.

You’re worth more.

September, 2010

You feel like you’re about to vomit. Blood trickles down Satoru’s palm, the sharp pin of the button in his hand still in his unfurling fist.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Yaga-Sensei grimaces. “Suguru fled after killing everyone in the village.”

You can’t look anyone in the eye. You only stare at the blood on Satoru’s palm, thinking of his hands, of Suguru’s. Hands that were soft around your neck, rough on your waist and down the planes of your thighs. Hands that killed 112 people in a small village.

When you couldn’t call him, you took the bullet train to Tokyo immediately. You thought he’d gone missing, ran away, anything but the reality of the situation. Suguru could be sharp-tongued, had rigid edges, but he was always kind. He believed in fairness above all—it was what you admired most about him. Even when he could be cruel, he could be kind.

You didn’t think he could be cruel enough to commit a mass murder in cold blood. You feel the hallway spinning, nausea crawling up your sternum and up to your head. Suguru had killed a village, and he’s left you and Satoru, and he didn’t even say goodbye.

You really need to lay down before you throw up.

Yaga cancels your missions, so you have nothing to distract you. Nothing to do with your hands except curl your fingers around the cool bed sheet beneath you. For the next day, you stay like this — twisted inside yourself, knees tucked to your chest. Satoru is there, too, and for the first time in his life, he has nothing to say. This is a kind of grief that neither of you knows how to deal with.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “We should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you haven’t eaten since this morning,” you frown.

He shrugs. He was fine with laying in bed with you, suspended in the thick tension of unspoken words. Satoru was often explosive when he was angry, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about Suguru’s betrayal. Not unless he could find him on his own, but at this rate, Suguru could be out of the city already.

He’s slightly watery-eyed. Something is dormant inside of him and you’re waiting for it to snap, show its teeth. You are ready to be the thing in between his canines.

He takes you eventually. Wakes you in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, prompted by nightmares of fire and bloodshed and Suguru’s glare. Satoru claws at you in his sleep until you’re holding his face and shaking him, telling him to breathe slowly.

His breathing only gets faster. The hole that Suguru leaves inside of him needs to be filled.

And then, your hair is in between his fists, your flesh in between his teeth. He has to take you apart so you’re like him, but you know that you had fallen apart the moment Suguru’s phone number failed when you tried to call him.

“Satoru,” you whine. “Slow down.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, his voice rough as he gropes you in the dark. “Fuck, sorry. Need you. Missed you.”

With the way he manhandles you, you might think he’s sleepwalking. His eyes are wide open, midnight blue in the darkness. He whines when you turn away from him.

“Please,” he chokes out. “Need it.”

You’d seen him like this before. Desperate, begging, frantic—usually because he was upset or angry. He would never tell you the details of what was in his head, only that he absolutely needed you, needed your body to satiate him. Your body was a temple for him to confess and repent in, yet it hollowed you out as if you were the one sinning.

“Shhh,” you coo, nervous. “It’s alright.”

You wrap your arms around him and he intertwines your legs together. You can feel his cock against your stomach. His face is buried in your neck, teeth nipping your collarbone. You always let him take all of you when he’s like this, never minding the feeling of being stretched thin, a taut sinew inside a predator’s mouth. You would be the balm to his chaos, always.

He lets out a heavy breath when he moves your panties to the side and his tip catches on your entrance. It’s a sound of relief, of quenched thirst. You gasp when he fits himself all the way inside you. Your body feels like a geyser ready to erupt.

He’s done this before after nightmares, after tough missions. Sometimes you would be asleep —you told him you didn’t care, and usually, you don’t. To be wanted by Satoru felt like a blessing even when it hurt like a curse.

You were sick on each other.

His movements are hurried, kissing your neck sloppily as he ruts against you. He pushes inside and begins with quick thrusts. A full nest inside of you, your walls melting. He squeezes you tightly, his arms almost painfully clutching your waist as if he needed you tethered to him, skin sticking to skin.

You aren’t wet enough for you to cum just yet. It was aching in you a little bit, the deepness of his cock inside you.

“S-Satoru,” you whine. “Hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up — fuck — make it up to you.”

He pulls out of you and throws you against the bed, holding your legs down and parted for his mouth. He eats you like a meal, his mouth sucking on your clit brutally enough for you to become overwhelmed. He sighs as he feels you gush around his fingers.

“Close,” you gasp. “Fuck me.”

He turns you over and humps in between your legs, slipping in and holding you down. His weight on you is almost comforting. Your head feels like it’s underwater.

“You can take it,” he hums. He kisses your nape, bites at your shoulder. If he wasn’t so delirious about it, needing you as much as he does, he would take his time. Write his name into your skin with love bruises.

His cock had to be stirring your insides together, your cunt like whipped butter. He groans when you clench around him. He knows how close you are, despite being half-asleep, half-feral. He’s had you memorized.

It was too hot for him to be on you like this, his body too heavy. You come at the same time, both of your voices blending together into a choked whimper. Your hair sticks to your neck with sweat.

“Y’feel so good,” Satoru mutters. “All the time.”

He gets up to piss eventually, otherwise he probably would’ve fallen asleep inside you. You hadn’t noticed the small tears at the corner of your eyes. You come back to yourself, feeling a flurry of emotions come out of your pores—sweat and tears, Satoru’s warmth spilling out of you like dripping candle wax.

He holds you again and strokes your hair in silent apology. You fall asleep. You don’t dream.

He’d fucked you into the next afternoon, apparently, because you don’t wake up until 1 pm. The sheets are warm with his presence, but there isn’t a warm body next to you.

When he comes back, his eyes are bloodshot.

“Satoru?”

“He… he left,” he says.

“What do you mean he left?”

“Shoko found him and called me. He thinks he can create a world without non-sorcerers, he’s fucking—“

“Satoru!” you snap.

He shuts up, looks at you with big eyes, wet and dark.

“You— you saw him?”

“Yeah, just now—”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you demand.

He blinks at you, at a loss for words. He was half-asleep when Shoko called, scrambled to put on pants before he basically warped to the middle of Shinjuku. Seeing Suguru again was whiplash.

“I didn’t want to—you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping, y’know,” he stammers, running a hand through his haphazard white locks. Lingering bedhead. “And I didn’t want Suguru to think we were, you know, ganging up on him—”

“I wouldn’t care about being woken up if I got to see him!” you scoff.

“You’re upset.”

“Of course I’m upset he’s my… he’s my friend, too!”

I loved him, too.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”

You must be red in the face. Your face stings with a wash of irritation, your nose twitching as if you’re about to cry.

“What did you say to him?”

“He’s turned his back on Jujutsu society. That’s all there is to it. He thinks it’s justice.”

“You didn’t try to stop him? You just let him go?”

“I couldn’t kill him. You know that,” he says, his expression hard.

Your throat catches on a lump, a ball of malignant rage threatening to choke you. The red string that connects you and Suguru has frayed limp. Between you and Satoru, it only tightens around your neck.

“I could’ve talked to him,” you start babbling. “I could’ve–”

“Don’t be stupid. You know how stubborn he is. You really think that you would’ve made a difference?”

You narrow your eyes, wiping them before tears start to fall. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just… I just know him–”

“And I don’t?” you snap.

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you’re implying.”

Satoru scoffs. “You don’t get it. He’s set on this idea of his. You wouldn’t have changed his mind, I promise you.”

You shut your eyes, feeling the dagger of his gaze twist itself into your chest. There was that feeling again—knowing that you would never be like either Satoru or Suguru. You knew that perhaps Satoru would have more power over him, and despite that, he still left.

You weren’t there for the past two months, didn’t see the dead look in his eyes. You would never understand him. You think that maybe no one would. You hate how desperately you wanted to know him, how intensely you would claw your way for love in a way that mattered. Years of being with Satoru proved that—you still felt beneath him. Beneath both of them.

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t shut down. You always do that when you get upset,” Satoru grimaces.

You chew on the skin under your lip nervously. Your hands shake. You hate that Suguru has probably only shown a certain percentage of himself to you. There was no room for you to be entitled to the intricacies of his brain.

The space between you and Satoru is a chasm. You don’t know what to do with your frustration. The only options in your head right now are to take it out on him or let it fester within yourself until you explode. Neither will do much in terms of closure.

Satoru stares at you with jealousy stirring underneath his skin. It’s the earnestness in your hurt expression. It’s making the guilt inside him multiply like a virus.

“Are you in love with him?” Satoru asks, his voice hoarse.

You blink at him. “I don’t know,” you whisper.

“Do you love him more than you love me?”

“What? What does that have to do with–”

“Just answer.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mutter.

Satoru winces, your words a sharp sting to his face. He hadn’t preferred either of you over the other, but he was protective of you in a way that he didn’t feel for Suguru. It ran deep enough to make him crazy—Suguru knew that. For some reason, it wasn’t anything that Satoru could admit out loud.

He sighs heavily. “I love both of you. You know that.”

“Why are you asking this, Satoru?”

“Because… fuck. Because it doesn’t matter how much you and I loved him! It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s gone, okay?”

He’s too consumed with the thought of you beside him on that sidewalk, surrounded by a crowd. Tunnel vision set on a beautiful boy with sharp eyes, casually ready to leave the both of you in the dust. Part of him hates how much you love Suguru, how much Suguru seemed to love you back. He hates how much you’re fussing over his best friend when all he’s ever done since he met you was fuss over you.

He hates how much he loves Suguru. So much so that out of his own selfishness, he wanted to face him alone when Shoko called. He didn’t want you beside him when he confronted Suguru, didn’t want to see the inevitable tears on your face once Suguru walked away.

Satoru is convinced that you were made from him, and if he’s lost one soulmate, he refuses to lose another.

And yet, you look at him coldly, like you’re going to leave, and his heart jumps out of his chest.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto x you

153 notes · View notes

wangquan-fugui · 6 months ago

Text

this college au isn't getting out of my head so here y'all go, some headcanons

despite being the first in the world at age 15 LXY still ended up with crippling self-worth issues and imposter syndrome.. makes me think he'd be a burnt out fgli (first-generation low-income) student at a rich school.. university au (this has nothing to do at all with my experiences as a fgli student at an ivy league school lmaoo)

of course FDB is a shoo in legacy student and at first LLH is is incredibly annoyed bc FDB is clearly a rich kid who got in with his parents money

the name i picked for FDB is 择信 ("zéxìn" or "to choose faith"). his dad's name is 则仕 ("zéshì" literally "officer" the author is laugh at us so that zé didn't work, i picked another one to better fit my intention. same sound though.)

he's still called duobing as a nickname bc he was a sickly child, but fang zexin is what appears on official documents and his student id. of course his mom and his aunt still call him "xiaobao" and later on so does LLH

FDB abuses his "xiaohua" priviledges and when he extra wants something he'll pull out "xiaohua'er"

just them warming up to each other to deal with school stress. think of all the shenanigans!! i feel like 3am on a school campus is when you feel like you can do anything super well, even make empanadas when you've never made empanadas before (did i do this freshman year? yes.)

bonus: LXY has a phd in bio-med and is a famous researcher, but he's getting a herbology? nursing? (still deciding tbh) degree as LLH and passing it off as his first undergrad. he made a small fortune from his first go around so he can afford it, but i feel like he donated most of it and/or gave it to QMS + QP + SGD

yes i made LXY a genius progidy med student who got into college at 15 and wrangled a phd + patent at age 18. he's literally every asian parent's golden child wet dream. no wonder he disappeared and changed his name and only resurfaced 10 years later.

FDB is of course an engineering and business student (dual degree, our xiaobao is a champ) and he buys all the school swag cuz he has the spirit

bonus bonus: fdb is a professional college fencer lmaoo. do they have professional college martial arts?

bonus bonus li'er is a part of the family staff but the fang/he family pays handsomely so she's kinda uppity. she doesn't understand why her young master is hanging out with someone 1) obviously older and 2) obviously poorer

FDB of course falls in love at first sight bc LLH happens to be the most drop dead gorgeous person he's ever seen and reminds him vaguely of the researcher that helped with the cure to his childhood illness. surely there's no connection right..

FDB is 20 when he starts college bc he took a two year break to do an internship at his mother's company. it looks great on his resume and conveniently works well so i can line up canon ages

FDB finds out LLH is living in a van and immediately tries to move him into his dorm (freshman year). of course that doesn't work out, but i think around sophmore year, once they've started dating, he would've whittled down LLH enough for him to agree to live together in a house off-campus. LLH tries several times to convince the 20yo that he can do better than some old man who's just starting his undergrad at age 28 (my man breathes lies). FDB is literally signing their lease as he speaks.

bonus bonus bonus (and my fave): LLH makes those terrible tiktok recipes that never work but he keeps trying and the first couple of times FDB actually tries pretending that LLH's cooking is fantastic

bonus x4: DFS went to trade school and owns a handyman service (he makes bank doing it) and the jinyuan alliance is his crew of fixers. FDB is convinced DFS is a mob boss because LLH is always calling him Di 老大 (lǎo dà) when he comes around to fix LLH's rundown van. DFS gives LLH the i'm in love with u family discount but he'll never admit to it. the two of them have known each other since grade school.

bonus x5: DFS and LXY both did the same martial arts extracircular and were known rivals (affectionate) in those circles. they were constantly swapping between placing 1st and 2nd in tournaments.

bonus x5 extra bonus just for me: at one point LXY did call DFS "gege" before he grew out of it / they drifted a part. obvs they reconcillated bc LLH needed a van guy and DFS under all those scowls does care for LXY a lot.

bonus x6: LLH and JLQ absolutely know they are cousins (just bc it's hilarious for me if they do). they don't talk about it but JLQ hates him for "stealing" DFS's attention since their naptime days. he's her cousin timmy. LLH doesn't even know that he's seduced the love of her life, he's just vibing. DFS tries to explain to her that he's gay and has never been interested in women, but she doesn't believe in homosexuals exactly like in canon lmaoo

bonus x7: SGD and LXY were both in an orphanage before they got adopted by qi mushan and qin po. SGD protected LXY like an older brother, but got more bitter and jealous as LXY clearly displayed genius level academic excellence and as a by product got more attention (more care into selecting schools, more time dedicated to LXY's extracirculars, more time spent driving LXY to conferences and stuff as his research gained more traction)

can you imagine the pressure little xiangyi would've been put under to excel, and to excel bc he got this chance when all the other kids at the orphanage didn't? qi mushan and qin po weren't exacty rich, i imagine he must've felt so stressed being bombarded with scholarships and whatnot while his brother steadily closed himself off from xiangyi

nothing just imposter syndrome going off the charts when rumors started going around that a mistake in LXY's research cost someone their life. that no one should've trusted a teenager to be that smart. that some orphan kid just wanted attention and should've never been given a chance. it breaks him.

unintential pressure from qi mushan, qin po and SGD. why was he protected / saved / chosen if not to make their lives easier and to make them proud with his achivements. he's carrying his made-up expectations of their expectations and SGD's expectations

something something my dad was drunk one night and came on campus and told me i was the hope of our entire family bc i was the first to get into a good school and i could make something of myself. i was 18 at the time, same age as when LXY during his famous battle, and i just. feel some type of way. like. the man was carrying the expectations of the entire jianghu on his back. how was he not gonna be overwhelmed and break down?

bc this is a modern au i can make LXY go to therapy :) it takes a few years for him to be convinced to go (he is asian after all LOL), but he does go eventually and it helps him get the will to start again. FDB knows and actively encourages and praises LLH for taking care of himself.

LLH still carries the same self-hatred he has for his younger self bc he thinks his arrogance caused a mistake in his research and ended up causing ppl to die. he's working on it, okay, it's gonna take time

i'll end this with some crack: FDB accidentally hears DFS call LLH "xiangyi" and proceeds to give him an entire speech abt deadnames and such. it's bc he's seen LLH react to being called "xiangyi" before (come on, this guy was a prodigy and he's back at uni, some of the professors are bound to recognize him) and it's never pretty. he ends by saying "it's not like lianhua is running away from the law, he's not doing anything wrong" yes he thinks LLH is trans lmaoo. the entire time, DFS is giving him an incredious look. LXY was in fact running away from the law (or at least the press lmaoo). LLH is just standing there with an amused look on his face like "my xiaobao is a little confused, but he's got the spirit"

#sorry this is such a long post i got very excited #pls come talk to me abt the lotus man and his boyfriends #i love them #maybe this is spurred by my desire to see cy in a good modern drama #but my brain was like 'modern au modern au!!!'#also was i the only one that found out sgd was 10 years older than lxy two months after i finished the show #mysterious lotus casebook #mlc #mlcb #lianhua lou #lhl #li lianhua #li xiangyi #fang duobing #di feisheng #kitty rambles #my stuff

55 notes · View notes

mangoisms · 1 year ago

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter seven: just get me through the night | read chapter six

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.8k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

Steph believes you when you tell her you tripped and hurt your wrist.

After all, it’s not exactly a lie. That is what happened. It just… happened to occur while you were being advanced upon by, you know, the Batman.

You don’t tell her that last part. It’ll just worry her, you think, and she was worried enough about you that following day, when you told her about how your shift was cut short and how you hurt yourself. She fretted about you coming back to your shitty apartment in Coventry on your own but you made up a lie about catching a taxi.

(Technically, in a way, you suppose it could’ve been the truth but you don’t imagine Red would appreciate Redbird being referred to as a taxi service; though, at the same time, he drives like a literal maniac, so, it doesn’t fit.

And yes, he did name his car.

And yes, it is actually named Redbird.

He claims he gets around by motorcycle more these days but that obviously wasn’t conducive with the weather, so he used the car instead. A very high-tech, ultra-expensive car that you had to wonder how the hell he managed to get. He’s your age, after all. But you refrained from asking. It’s impolite, considering everything he did for you.)

After Steph’s shift, you both head to her mom’s house, where Crystal Brown, a nurse at West Mercy, generously takes a look at your wrist, as equally as concerned as her daughter when she hears the story.

“It’s just a sprain,” she says, frowning. “I can’t be entirely certain without an X-ray but I don’t think anything is broken or fractured. No need for a brace, either, but if it keeps bothering you…”

“I’ll get it checked out,” you agree easily. “Thank you, Ms. Brown.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Crystal.”

“You know how she is, Mom,” Steph sighs, folding her arms over the back of the chair you’re in, dropping her chin to your head.

“As hard-headed as you? Oh, I know.”

You smile bashfully as Steph snickers. Crystal rises from the table, stepping back to the stove, where she has dinner cooking. At their insistence, you agreed to spend the night.

Crystal has always been kind to you. Both this summer and the previous one did she tell you you were welcome to live with her and Steph here at their shared home, since neither of you could live in the dorms unless you took classes during the summer. Steph abstained from them to get more experience and you abstained because your financial aid wouldn’t cover it, which left you grappling with a three-month lease at the shitty student apartments near GU.

“No Tim?” Crystal asks, covering the pan, turning to look at you two.

Steph clicks her tongue, pulling away from you to flop into the chair beside yours; underneath the table, her ankle curls beneath yours, shin pressed to your calf.

“Busy as usual.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“It’s not that big of a deal—” at the looks you get from both of them, you quickly backtrack “—I mean, I’ll tell him later… That new Mission Impossible movie came out a few weeks ago, so I was gonna see if we could watch it together…”

Crystal frowns. “But you don’t like those movies. Does Tim like those ridiculous movies?”

She probably wouldn’t be displeased if he did. Crystal isn’t overly fond of Tim. Steph says it’s because of their relationship when they were kids but sometimes, it feels far too deep for it to be just that.

Still, she’s civil to him and he rarely says no when Steph invites him (and you) for dinner. If anything, you think Crystal doesn’t mind the opportunity to make him squirm. Steph probably doesn’t mind it, either.

Steph stretches her arms above her head. “It would be on par with him but no. These two just like watching them and making fun of them. I’m good, though.”

“I’ll tell him, then. He’d notice it, anyway, since my mobility is still limited, but yeah…”

“Well, be careful,” she says, mouth pursed. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like she’s talking about your wrist but about something else.

Steph coughs. Crystal looks back to the stove.

“Well, hopefully you two will see him soon. From what I’ve heard, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you say heavily. “A while.”

Crystal doesn’t pay more attention as she focuses on the sizzle of the chicken breast but Steph does, giving you a lingering look that makes you look away.

You… try not to give away too much to her.

You feel horrible enough to be in love with her ex-boyfriend; pining after him in her presence is just the icing on the World’s Worst Best Friend cake.

That’s why you avoided him, after realizing the culmination of your feelings in May.

To see if you could shake the feelings, if you could get rid of them.

Considering how hung up you are on him still, it hasn’t worked.

But you still want to see him again. It’s selfish, probably, to be okay with avoiding him for your own gain and then when he does it on purpose, you want to put an end to it.

But you know now it wasn’t okay.

You want to see Tim, want to hear his bad science puns, you just want him around.

Your feelings won’t go away for a while but avoiding him was the wrong decision. You just have to handle it on your own like an adult.

You would if you could see him more.

You hope you can. Even if it kills you to act normally, to be okay with being friends. By this point, you’ve started to realize having him in any capacity is more than enough.

It has to be.

newest mission impossible movie came out… i can’t believe they’ve managed five of them and this one is only part one of the fifth one. they need to put that series down already

anyway :D in that case, was wondering if we could see it together? on sunday? i’ll get the tix and you get the snacks? we can get ice cream after and talk shit about it

i can’t, sorry! family dinner on sunday, then some other stuff before then and on sat too. see it and let me know about it, alright? :)

You cry when the end credits start rolling.

Not because the movie is good or moving or even so bad that it makes you cry, you’re just…

So tired.

Tired of him never having time for you, for you and Steph.

One part of you wants to give up. What’s the point, right?

His continued lack of time means you can’t even apologize to him, can’t even ask if your initial avoidance was what led to his in the first place.

Mostly because it feels like it doesn’t even matter at this point.

Maybe this is what you deserve and there should be nothing else to say on the matter.

But that hurts even more.

You sit far at the back—shitty seats, he would say—but it gives you the privacy to shed a few tears.

You leave only when the end credits are almost done rolling and the theater is empty. You don’t care about the looks people give you, coming out red-eyed and sniffling from the Mission Impossible movie. You just want to go back to your apartment and hide away for the rest of the summer.

You emerge from the cinema; it’s only eight, so the sun is still out, warming you up from the chilly theater. Sighing, you start for the nearest station to take the subway back to Coventry.

You only get a couple blocks before your eyes catch the storefront of an ice cream parlor. Wallowing deep in self-pity by now, you easily take the detour. The patio in front of it is busy with people and through the large glass window, you see the line inside is long, too. But since you have nothing else to do, you head for it, anyway.

You’re halfway across the patio when you see it.

Through the window, in line for ice cream, is Tim.

Your eyes found him immediately, without intention or purpose. Poetic, almost, were it not for the fact of seeing him here breaks your heart.

Here, not just by himself but with friends. Friends you’ve never met but know of from pictures at his place.

You try to rationalize it initially, still standing there in the middle of the patio, staring into the parlor. Maybe the dinner was canceled. Maybe they dragged him out.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But then it makes you feel second best. Second choice. That he didn’t think of you when his schedule freed up.

That’s presumptuous, though, right? What gives you priority? Nothing, especially after what you pulled before.

But the ache in your chest hardly allows for that much introspection or self-awareness.

Mostly… Mostly, you’re just hurt.

Seeing him now, separated from you by thin glass, the yawning monster inside you that longs desperately for him is unleashed, because he is so close but he’s not here with you, for you. And that hurts. A physical thing, your chest tight, throat thick with growing emotion.

But then, he sees you.

His head turns and you go rigid as your eyes meet his, which widen as he recognizes you.

It’s been long, so terribly long, since you’ve seen him. See the soft blue of his eyes, this lovely shade, like cornflowers.

It makes this so much worse because you don’t think anything will change, even with this, so it’s like a taunt to see him, knowing this might be the last for a while. A long while.

Another moment between you two, the surprise on his face morphing into something else and you look away before you can see what it is, turning on your heel.

You have to get out of here.

The subway is across the street but the light just turned green. Too long.

The hiss of hydraulics snatches your attention. A bus, several feet away. One last person climbing on. You take off for it, scrambling for your wallet, ignoring how the rough motions make your wrist throb in protest.

You think you hear your name. You hope you don’t.

You barely wedge yourself in just as the doors close.

The bus driver eyes you with thinly-veiled suspicion but you pay the fare and take a seat at the far back, away from the windows.

You don’t even know where this bus is going.

You don’t care.

You just have to get away.

You bury your face in your hands, your tears flowing again as the bus pulls away from the curb.

The worst part about it, you think, is that he doesn’t reach out to you.

Neither does Steph, but you reason expecting that is irrational. Why would he talk to her? Why would he tell her what happened?

You can’t do it, either. It’s for the best, maybe, that you don’t say anything about it at all.

Instead, as soon as you get back into your apartment, you collapse onto your threadbare couch and take a nap. Only dragging yourself off it when you have to get up and get ready for your shift, accompanied with the headache throbbing in the center of your forehead.

You trade off with the evening shift and things are quiet for the most part. To distract yourself (mostly to stop yourself from bursting into tears if you think too hard about what happened), you take on your night shift tasks with renewed vigor. Cleaning the floors, the machines, adjusting displays, doing inventory.

Your wrist protests throughout it but you ignore it.

Steph would scold you for it.

So would Tim.

You pause in the middle of cleaning the counter near the Slurpee machine. Your wrist throbs at your side.

The sharp gust of wind and the sound of your name surprises you.

Shocks you, really, since you’re still a bit on edge from Batman’s visit last week and you yelp, turning around, throwing the wet cloth on instinct.

Your visitor dodges it easily. It lands on the floor with a wet splat.

“Flash? What are you—what—?”

He tilts his head, grass-green eyes narrowing slightly, mouth pursing, and you get the unmistakable feeling of being scrutinized very closely.

“What are you doing here, Flash?” you question.

He keeps making that face. “I wanted to see you.”

That surprises you. You blink.

“Batman won’t like that.”

“Don’t care. I’m not here to cause trouble. Just here to see you. He can’t say anything.”

You don’t think that’ll stop him but you don’t say anything. Flash probably knows. He just doesn’t care. He’ll complain about it sometimes, go to lengths to avoid it, but other times, he just—doesn’t care.

Flash continues to look at you. Scrutinizing you.

You don’t bother trying to stop him from doing it. You’re too tired and the way your eyes are still red and swollen is telling, as well as the circles under your eyes.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Flash.”

His frown deepens and one of his hands comes to your shoulders.

“Seriously… are you okay, kid?”

For some reason, that does it.

The smallest of splinters to your resolve first, your breath hitching, then it breaks entirely, emotion swelling inside you with tidal wave force, your vision blurring with tears.

Flash reels back in surprise at first, then softens, muttering, “Aw, kid,” and pulling you into a hug.

It doesn’t feel perfunctory. Like he is doing this out of obligation at seeing you cry, like this is just another one of his duties as a superhero. It feels genuine, the way he holds you tightly against his chest, like you’re a child being comforted.

That just makes you cry harder.

It takes a while for you to calm down. Then you get embarrassed, sniffling out an apology.

He hands you a napkin, then pokes you affectionately on the forehead.

“Geez, what do you take me for? I don’t mind. Besides, worse bodily fluids have ended up on me. Way worse. This is nothing.”

You laugh wetly.

He squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, though. Seems like you’ve got some stuff to talk about. What’s going on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears briefly takes hold of you. You take a deep breath, working through it, blowing your nose.

Flash grabs two Slurpees, one cherry and one blue raspberry, and hops up on the counter, patting the spot beside him. You manage to wriggle up using just your right hand, your left still throbbing.

With plenty of breaks in between to cry a little bit more, you tell him everything that has gone on for the past month. Including the stuff with Red and the others, then your impromptu visit from Batman last week.

“That how you hurt your wrist?” he asks, thoroughly displeased as he reaches for it with gentle fingers. It’s more swollen than before, irritated from you ignoring your body’s warnings, warm to the touch.

“It wasn’t him,” you mumble. “Just me. I tripped and fell.”

He purses his lips but nods for you to continue, which you do, telling him about everything that happened today.

“It just sucks,” you whisper. “I mean, what I’m doing to Steph, first of all, by feeling like that and then with the stuff going on with Tim. I know I shouldn’t have avoided him earlier because of my own feelings and maybe this is what I deserve for it but…”

He shakes his head, seemingly bothered by all of this. Really bothered. You expected some, along with the concern, but all of that seems tripled for a reason you do not know.

He says your name, solemn. “You don’t deserve any of that. Sure, it was stupid but… you still don’t deserve that.”

“I can’t change it,” you sigh, setting your cup down. Your fingers are numb from the cold of it. “I just… I dunno. Had to get it out, I guess, so thanks. Why did you really come here, though?”

He sips his Slurpee. “I really came here for you. I just had this feeling… I don’t know. But it paid off, didn’t it?”

“True,” you admit.

“You want me to talk some sense into this kid?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t know,” he muses, his thoughtful tone bellying the tension that seems to permanently reside in his body now; he’s really annoyed by it. You’re touched, if not a bit confused at the depth of his feelings. “I think I should. Might be good.”

“It’s not totally Tim’s fault—”

“His reaction is his own entirely. You shouldn’t have done what you did but anyone with any amount of common sense would talk to you about it instead of turning around and avoiding you, too. It’s dumb. Don’t let him off the hook.”

“Don’t let me off the hook.”

“I’m not. But from where I’m standing, his offenses greatly outweigh yours, especially with what seemed to happen today and… everything else.”

“Flash…”

“I’m just saying. I am, admittedly, a bit biased but… still. I’m not wrong, am I?”

You sigh. “I guess not.”

“Exactly. And for that stuff with your other friend… she hasn’t said anything about it, has she? I mean, I told you what it’s like for me and Pipes. We don’t feel like that for each other anymore. If I had some friend who turned out to like him, I wouldn’t care. So, what makes you think Stephanie does?”

You throw up your hands. “Most people would! Flash, not everyone takes that approach to their exes.”

“True,” he concedes. “But they’re clearly still friends and just friends.”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s okay with that. That doesn’t mean it’s okay. I shouldn’t… it never should have happened.”

Flash sighs, watching you for a minute. “This is a mess, isn’t it?”

You laugh humorlessly. “You’re just now getting that?”

“I knew before but this is… a mess of epic proportions. Seriously…” he mutters the last part, shaking his head slightly.

Before you can respond, the door opens. You can’t see it, the aisle hiding it, but Flash can; since he remains calm, you assume it isn’t anyone bad.

Then you hear your name, from a very familiar voice and—

“Steph?”

She appears around the aisle, her jean shorts and lilac purple t-shirt wrinkled and in a state of disarray, her hair equally as messy, frizzed from the humidity outside; a light sheen of sweat shines on her face. It’s like she rushed all the way over here.

You hop down from the counter, concerned. “Steph, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? What happened?”

She lifts a hand, cobalt blue eyes on Flash, saying, distractedly, “No, it’s… it’s alright, nothing’s wrong, I just… had to talk to you… Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Flash says breezily, hoping from the counter. ��You can talk to her. I was just visiting.”

“Wait—” you don’t want him to leave quite yet but you don’t know how to say that.

“I’ll hang around,” he assures you, tossing your empty Slurpee cups in your next blink; the only indication he did anything is the way they disappear and the breeze that hits you and Steph.

“Batman—”

“Don’t care. If anything, I might like to talk to him.”

“Flash,” you say, nervous, not willing to reveal what happened to Steph but also trying to tell him to very much not do that.

“I’m still thinking about it,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “But I’ll be around. I’ll come back in a few.”

He lifts a hand, then he is gone, the breeze following him much stronger this time.

“I guess you two really are friends,” Steph says when it calms, sending you a small smile, making you relax.

“Yeah…” Though friends didn’t quite cut it for you. Silly, probably, considering you don’t even know who he is under the cowl, but you can’t deny it to yourself. It’s hard to quantify exactly what he means to you—a friend, a big brother, some kind of weird uncle. If anything, it feels like an odd amalgamation of all those things. You wonder if that’s how he feels, too. You won’t ask. You can only handle so much disappointment in one night.

“I’m sorry to come by so suddenly,” she says next, her words oddly formal in a way that puts you on edge. “But I just had to talk to you.”

“About…?”

“About Tim.”

You go stiff. You try your best to school your expression, to not give anything away. After all, concerning him, it could be anything. What happened today, maybe. What’s been happening.

Or your feelings.

You really hope it’s not that.

You’ve only just started to realize you might be losing Tim. You can’t lose her.

You can’t.

“What about him?”

She says your name. Everything inside you tightens.

“I know. I know how you feel about him—”

Your throat aches when you swallow. Everything seems to come bursting out of you in the next second.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Steph, I didn’t mean—I didn’t want—I wouldn’t do anything—” you take a step back, your heart squeezing painfully in your chest.

Her eyes widen and she steps forward, quickly closing the space between you, her hands coming to cradle your face.

“No, no, no, it’s okay, it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not, I never should’ve—god, I’m so sorry, Steph—” your vision blurs with tears.

She says your name again, keeping you in her grasp.

“I’ve known for a long time,” she quickly says. “Okay? I knew, but it’s okay. I was never mad at you, never, it’s okay, I promise.”

“But—but—”

She shushes you gently. “It’s okay. Deep breaths, alright?”

A couple tears trace down your cheeks. She wipes them away, a small smile forming on her lips—for you, entirely for you, the warmth there reflected in her eyes.

“Do you want to know a secret?” she asks, rubbing her thumb over your cheek. “It’s really easy to fall in love with Tim Drake. And this isn’t my roundabout way of telling you I have feelings for him. Those are long gone. I love him and he’ll always be my first love but that time has passed—for the both of us. But for you guys?”

“Stephie…”

“I don’t care that you have feelings for him. I really truly don’t. I just want you to be happy. I want you both to be happy. I think you two can do that for each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I think… you’re good for him. He’s good for you. That’s all there is to it, okay? If you really want my blessing, you have it, but… it doesn’t matter to me that you like him. And I’ve known for a while but I just… I assumed you knew I was okay with it. Like it was the thing that was there but we never talked about. Stupid, I know. But… I just need you to know that. Alright?”

She hugs you. You bury your face in her shoulder, hugging her back just as tightly, unable to stop your tears from flowing.

“I’m not just saying this to try and be the bigger person, either,” she murmurs. “Go for it. It’s been long enough.”

“I don’t know…”

“Why?”

“I mean, he doesn’t… and today…”

Steph pulls away, frowning now. “He likes you, too.”

“No—”

“He does. I know.”

“Then why has he…” You can’t keep going, biting your lip.

“‘Cause he’s an idiot,” she mutters. “In more ways than one. But… I’m going to fix it, okay?”

“No, no, don’t—”

“It’s okay. There’s… there’s other stuff going on right now and we need to take care of that first, then you can talk about your feelings. But I’m going to fix it, okay? I’m going to try.”

“You don’t have to, this is our mess, my mess, I was the one who started avoiding him in May after finally realizing my feelings and then he…” you trail off, sniffling.

“There’s something else,” she says cryptically. “That’s… just take my word for it. But I’m going to fix it. He’s been an idiot long enough and I’m not going to keep tolerating it, not if he’s going to keep hurting you.”

You shake your head, confused. Is she talking about today? Did he tell her? You have no idea…

“He only did it because I did.”

“No, no, it’s… it’s complicated, okay?”

You snort despite yourself. “You think?”

She smiles finally. “I know. It’s… a lot. But don’t worry. I’m going to get him to see the light. Not literally, though I wouldn’t mind roughing him up a bit just for how idiotically he’s been acting but… another time.”

You’re still confused. Terribly, terribly confused. But Steph is so impassioned, so sure, you let it go.

“Let me help,” you say. “I should be the one doing this but—but let me help. I need to. It’s my mess, too.”

“It’s all of us,” she sighs. “And right now, I’m in a unique position. So… let me, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you more later, but hopefully, I can get something together soon. Just sit tight, alright?”

“You do too much for me,” you whisper.

“I’m doing what I should be doing,” she says, looking… guilty almost before the look is gone. “This has gone on long enough.”

She leans forward to kiss your forehead. “But it’s gonna be okay. We’ll make it better.”

You just nod, going along with it for now.

You scrape yourself together after a few minutes, wiping your tears away and blowing your nose. Steph hangs around long enough for Flash to return, at which point she bids you a regretful goodbye, telling you she’ll talk to you tomorrow. You worry about her getting home but she brought her car, or so she tells you, and Flash generously sees her out.

After a couple minutes, he returns.

“So?” he asks expectantly.

“You were right,” you mutter. “She’s fine with it. I’m not entirely sure why she had to rush out to tell me or what she’s planning to fix but… I don’t think I can stop her.”

“No, I don’t think so, either,” he agrees lightly. “I don’t think you should, either. It’s probably important.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “I still don’t think she should be doing it but…”

“There might be more pieces in play than you think.”

You send him a look. “I got enough cryptic talk from her. I don’t want any more from you.”

He holds up his hands, smiling. “No more cryptic talk. Got it. I do, however, come bearing gifts.”

“Where on earth—?”

“Well, I already had them when I came here. I wanted to check on you and give you this stuff, but we got interrupted,” he says. “Give me a second.”

You give him a second.

He leaves and comes back in that time. You raise an eyebrow.

“Check it out,” he says, holding out a box.

You take it from him. It’s a small thing, easily held in your hand. You pull off the top.

And promptly blink as the shiny display of a phone greets you.

“Flash, what—”

He can’t wait for you to finish asking your question, apparently too eager to tell you.

“It’s a phone, for you. But it’s programmed with my contact info, that way you can talk to me, and you can move all the stuff on your old phone over, too. It really is just a regular phone. Well, it does have League-level encryptions on it, but you know.”

“Flash… this is too much.”

“Not really,” he says. “I couldn’t give you that info without making sure your phone was secure and it would’ve been a lot more work to get yours secured, too. Besides, let’s be real, your phone has seen much better days. I think it deserves to finally be able to rest.”

“Jerk,” you laugh.

He shrugs. “Not wrong, though. Anyway, it’s not just for emergencies. You can talk to me. Text me. You know.”

“Flash,” you say, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, pressing a hand to your face.

He looks like he wants to say something else but stops himself last minute and just gives you a small smile.

“Come on. Let’s set it up.”

You agree, not wanting to continue to refuse since it would be rude and… you do want to have a way to talk to him. Not just for emergencies but other stuff, too. This stuff.

So much is still up in the air.

But you can focus on the here and now, with Flash here to ease your burdens.

reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @peachesona @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @kikis-writing-service @sweetistic @soundsfunbutno @ginevraxrogers @fridaenpina @skcj24 @bath1lda @omfg-its-tay @laughydaphne @fhrjrirj @iamthesimpmother @alittlelateforstars @thaliadoesthings @scarlett13 @zelabee @coffee-love-alltheabove @benstormy @sad-girl09 @lockofspades s @thereallchristine @thatonecroc @1lellykins @jelsafan0 @hearttjason @kno-way-home

[ask to be tagged! here or my inbox! ^_^]

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #tim drake x you #red robin x you #dc comics x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n

320 notes · View notes

ladylooch · 5 days ago

Text

Bones - Part 6 [Mack x David]

A/N: This chapter has a lot of items in it for what was sent in as requests for the series! I hope you loooooove it! It's spicy, funny, and sweet all wrapped up in one. Happy Saturday, bbys!

Favorite quote? "You my girl, Hischier?" 😍🥵😩

Word Count: 4.5k

It’s almost laughable about what is currently happening right now.

If Mack thinks about the last year of her life, she really could not have imagined everything that has transpired. A year ago, she was still seeing David as a fling, a hot fuck whenever she felt the itch needed to be scratched. Which was a lot because, well, he’s David. Now, all her belongings are packed into brown boxes, ready to be carted away to David’s apartment. Well, their apartment.

This is all happening willingly. A lot of conversations have been had about this in the months since Mack returned to New York. As much as David assured her they could slow things down, Mack didn’t see the point. If they’re gonna do this, they should really do it. Commit. Go all in the way they both deserve now. She already ran once and she’s not doing it again.

So when Mack went the whole month of February without going back to her place, she brought the topic up.

“What if I move in?” Mack had asked in his arms as they watched TV together on a Wednesday night. Mack had terrible cramps and his hand laid across the warm, heating pad covering her lower abdomen, massaging lightly.

“Haven’t you already?” He murmured. Mack looked around his place, seeing her stuff littered everywhere. Maybe she’s made herself a little too at home.

“Okay, what if I brought everything here?” She reframed.

“I’d say it would finally be home for me too.” He answered, kissing her puckered lips.

That was a month ago. Mack broke her lease four months early and now she is here, monitoring the move with an iced espresso in her hand.

She grabs her phone, taking a picture of her by all her boxes and sending it to her boyfriend. David is currently out of town for the last Rangers road game of the season in Philadelphia. It was exciting to send him off knowing when he came back they would be living together. Her and David discussed their furniture and were able to consolidate it all down to fit into his place. Most of her decor has been donated though. The overly feminine pieces wouldn’t have made sense in the current modern, masculine design. David has already given her free reign to make changes.

Right now, Mack doesn’t have the desire. She likes it just the way it is.

After the movers pack up the last of her boxes, Mack walks down to the office to turn her keys in. She waves goodbye to the leasing office agents then moves to the lobby where Ron waits, already teary.

“I knew you would be gone after that first kiss.” Ron admits to her. Mack tears up, nodding her head.

“He is impossible to say no to.”

“I am happy for you, Mack.” He says as she hugs him. “This is good for you. Being closer to Lucie will be good too.” Ron is right about this, especially as Lucie is expecting her second daughter later in the year.

“Thank you, Ron. For everything. I’ll pop by and visit, okay? Bring you some Swiss Chocolate when I go back home.”

“I would love that. Tell your parents I said goodbye." Mack nods.

“How about see you later instead?” Ron smiles then waves her off to her next chapter like the good, kind man he is.

The movers are already in motion when she arrives to her new, familiar building. She quickly rushes upstairs and then gets out of their way again. She sits at the dining room table, checking in on work chats and emails. They are done in under an hour. Mack tips them in extra cash for the quick service, then shuts the door behind them all. She leans back against the door and grins. She snaps another picture to send to David.

Welcome home, honey

Come home to me soon 🥺

I will. Don’t give away any of my shit until I get home.

Say please.

Please. Brat.

Mack snickers then sends him a thumbs up in response.

The rest of the day she unpacks her things. She is able to get all of her clothes and bathroom items put away before the game starts. Then once it does, she moves to the kitchen so she can multitask. Anything that there is double of, she leaves out on the counter for them to discuss.

Mack raises her gaze to the TV when the announcers exclaim that David is fighting with another player. She winces as David’s fist connects with the guys face, sending him to the ice with a bloody cheek. She shakes her head as David skates lazily towards the penalty box, unaffected. Men.

Mack is still unwrapping glassware in the kitchen when David comes home. She took a long, extended break to have dinner with Lucie downstairs. Then she helped read Stella bed time stories until she fell asleep. By the time Mack left, Lucie had been asleep on the couch too. This arrangement is already working out wonderfully for the Hischier girls.

“Honey, I’m home.” David calls out as he walks in. She laughs.

“How long have you been dying to do that?”

“Oh, forever.” He admits. He tosses his bag by the door, then walks into hug her in the kitchen. “Look at you lil unpacking machine.” He kisses her lips. “What’s all this?”

“This is the stuff we have doubles of.”

“Cool. I do not want to do this tonight.”

“No, tomorrow. I’m sleepy.”

“Did they set the bed up?” Mack and David decided to keep Mack’s bed and move his into the second bedroom where her office will be.

“Yep. I washed the sheets. We’re all set.”

“I have been so excited to go to bed tonight.” He chuckles. “Not just because of your bed, but knowing I get you in it every night now…” He trails off. Mack smiles softly up at him, then tugs him by his tie down to kiss him again. David’s hands wind along her back. “You happy, baby?”

“So happy.” She murmurs, chin resting on his chest. He smoothes her hair down at the sides, then leans forward to smooch her lips longingly. “My pretty girl.” He says against her lips, then kisses her deeper.

“You feeling lucky tonight?”

“Mhm.” He mumbles, hands sliding down to her ass. They grip there for a moment, then go to the backs of her thighs to lift her up. As he is walking her to the hallway, his phone rings in his pocket. He sets Mack down on the bed, then pulls the phone out to see who is calling so late.

“Hey Woody.” He answers. He pops the phone on speaker so Mack can hear.

“Hey, uh, can one of you, or both of you, I don’t care, come down and sit with Stella? She’s asleep, but Lucie woke up and is bleeding. We called her doctor and they want her to come in.” Mack sits up quickly.

“Yeah I’ll come down.” Mack says to Connor.

“Thank you. Can you hurry? I’m trying to get Luc there ASAP.”

“Yep, I’m on my way,” Mack reaches for her phone that was charging on the nightstand. She grabs a sweatshirt from the closet, then kisses David goodbye.

“I’ll change and come down.” He calls to her.

“Okay.”

When Mack gets to Connor and Lucie’s apartment, they have the door open, waiting for her.

“Good luck. I love you.” Mack offers to them both. “Text me whats going on when you can.”

“We will.” Connor answers for his wife who looks white as a ghost. Tears line her brown eyes as her husband leads her from the apartment. The door softly shuts behind them. Mack goes to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water, then gets to work on loading dirty dishes from the sink into the dishwasher. She needs to be doing something with her hands after that interaction.

A knock sounds on the door, then David comes popping in.

“Hey honey, did you talk with them?”

“Not really. Lucie looked pretty worried. They were anxious to get going.”

“Hopefully everything is okay.” He brings a hand to her shoulder, rubbing at it, providing her comfort. Mack nods, feeling her throat clog up with emotion. She’s scared for her sister. Pregnancy is no joke. The issues that both mom’s and babies can have are sometimes life threatening. Mack feels queasy just thinking about something being wrong with Lucie or the baby.

“I’m gonna go sit down I think.” Mack murmurs. David follows her to the couch, helping her sit. Mack swallows hard as David wanders back to the kitchen to grab her water for her. He hands it to her. Mack thanks him.

Little, bare footprints hit the hallway. David turns around, seeing a sleepy, pouty Stella appear in the lit hallway arch.

“Where’s daddy?” She asks, rubbing her little eyes tiredly.

“Him and mommy went to go check on your baby sister.” Mack tells her. She opens her arms of her niece and sighs contently when Stella wiggles into her lap. David sits down next to the two girls, offering his hand to Stella for her to hold. She grips two of his fingers with her little hand.

“Why didn’t I get to go?”

“Cause it’s late.”

“I got to go last time.” Lucie and Connor took her to the 20 week appointment so Stella could see her little sister on the ultrasound. It was the talk of her entire week.

“Yeah, this one is a little different, babe.” Mack murmurs, kissing her head as Stella drops it to her shoulder. David reaches up, smoothing back Stella’s wild brown curls.

The three of them sit on the couch like that, quietly comforting one another until Mack gets a text from Connor.

On our way back. Everything is okay.

Mack and David sigh in pure relief. David peeks at Stella’s face, seeing her passed out.

“I’ll take her back to bed.”

Mack allows him to pick her up then follows him down to Stella’s bedroom. In the doorway, she watches David tuck Stella into her little pink, princess bed. He brings the blankets back up to her mid chest, then re-arranges her stuffed animals around her like she prefers. Mack smiles. He’s so good at taking care of his people. Then with a gentle pat of her hair, David walks quietly out of the room. He weaves his and Mack’s fingers together and leads her back to the living room where they wait for Lucie and Connor to return. When they do, the four of them share hugs between each other.

“Thank you, guys.” Connor murmurs as he walks them to the door. Lucie has already padded down the hallway to go to bed, utterly exhausted.

“Of course. We are so thankful everything is okay too.” Mack tells him.

“How did the move go?”

“Good.” She assures him. Connor nods.

“I’m glad your close by now with this guy.” Connor clasps David’s shoulder. “Now I just need him to officially be my brother…” Connor’s blue eyes sparkle playfully.

“Okay, goodnight.” Mack smiles, patting Connor’s arm as she walks through the door.

“What, nothing? You two are really not gonna give me anything?”

“Nope.” David shrugs. “Goodnight.” He tosses an arm around Mack’s shoulders. He kisses her head, then looks back, smirking at his defense partner. Connor scoffs at them then begrudgingly calls goodnight down the hallway. The soft click of the door has Mack and David snickering to each other.

“We’ll never tell.” David jokes to her.

“Never. When we get married, let’s not tell him for like six months.” Mack tangles their fingers together at her right shoulder.

“Oh we’re getting married?” David asks slyly.

“You know we are.”

“I do. Just didn’t realize you did…” He trails off with a smug smirk.

“I don’t move in with guys I don’t see as my future husband.”

“Plural, huh? Damn, I thought I was special.” Mack laughs loudly as they step into the elevator.

“You know what I mean!”

“Yeah that apparently I got some competition somewhere.”

“No, you don’t.” Mack shakes her head. “It’s only ever gonna be you.”

“Ditto, beautiful.” He puckers his lips like a duck at her.

Mack kisses him deeply, then leads him out of the elevator to continue what they started in their bedroom before.

- - - & - - -

The heavy purr of David’s motorcycle beneath Mack’s thighs is weirdly comforting. Playoffs are starting tomorrow and all David wanted to do with his last, non-hectic day was to take out the bike. The weather is cooperating. It’s a warm enough day that Mack won’t freeze in the wind and the streets are mostly cleaned off from the winter time gunk. David had called Mack on his way back from practice, asking her to play hooky with her work day. So she did.

The breeze rolls through Mack’s hair, whipping it about in it’s pony tail that trails down her back. The helmet is making her face and head sweaty, but she doesn’t mind. Her hands spread out along David’s stomach, holding on to him as they take each lazy turn of the Hudson River trail. They’re well out of the city now, seeing the budding trees and the expansive rolling river as it climbs further North. Mack and David did this ride in the fall to see the changing leaves during a few day break for training camp. It’s fun to see the trees coming full circle with their Spring blooms.

David taps Mack’s thigh, letting her know they are going to be changing speeds. He slows down as they come to a scenic overlook. It’s a Tuesday afternoon, so they are alone on the road. David brings the bike to a stop. The shudders of the engine shake Mack as she flips her helmet off. David kicks the stand down, then stands, holding a hand out to help her off.

“You’re getting good at this, honey.” He compliments her as she fixes her hair back into a smoother hairstyle. He puts his helmet next to hers on the bike then stretches out his neck and shoulders as he walks towards the stone wall curving around the cliff. “Damn. If we didn’t start off in the city, I might almost be able to believe we are back home.” Mack smiles in agreement. They are quiet, observing the gorgeous, rolling hills of trees and the lazy flow of the river.

“This was such a good idea. Thank you.” Mack acknowledges. She has been feeling uninspired and antsy in her professional life, even as her personal life smoothes to a steady, comfortable cruise. She just hates everything she is writing. How is it possible she can be in such different places, but her words all sound the same?

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“Of course.” She acknowledges. “I’d go anywhere with you.” David smiles.

“Except Dallas?” Mack stills. Dallas and David haven’t come up together in months. Well maybe it has, but she hasn’t been searching it out like before.

“Oh?”

“What about New York?” Mack looks away, thinking about where this is going.

“I mean, yeah? We were just there.”

“What about if we are there for 8 more years?” Mack startles.

“What?” Her voice already is small and timid from trying to control her emotions.

“Paperwork is coming today.”

“I thought…”

“I did too. But they approached my agent about it last week and I said get it done. Whatever they’re willing to pay me, I’ll take it.”

“So a dollar?” Mack jokes. David tilts his head back and laughs loudly at the sky. Then he reaches for her, pulling her into his chest to hold her close.

“I’m already a rich man having you, honey. I don’t need anything else. I know I tell you stuff like that all the time, but I mean it. This is the first time something big is happening for me when I have someone in my life. I’m so glad it’s you. I love sharing all this with you.”

“Is this the same speech you’re going to give to Connor?”

“Yes.” David smirks. “Can’t live without him either.” Mack giggles, gripping the opening of his leather jacket.

“Wow. New York for eight years. A Ranger for life?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re going to be so old in 8 years… And I’ll still be young.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, we’ll get you passed on to your second husband by then.”

“I can do 8 years with you.” Mack nods in agreement. “I get half though?”

“Sure! If I get half of yours.” Mack gasps then shakes her head no immediately. Despite David’s NHL salary and his lucrative farming business, Mack’s money surpasses his by close to 10 million. Daddy’s money grew well over the years with various, hands-off investments. It will continue to do so in the next 8 years too.

“I’m happy for you. Proud too. You’ve worked so hard to get here. You deserve this.”

“Thank you.” He nods, looking stoic and proud. “I’m excited to see where we are in 8 years.” He squeeze her fingers as they pull apart, looking back out over the gorgeous view they’re in front of.

“Yeah.” Mack murmurs.

But after this last year, Mack knows there is no use trying to picture it now. She’s sure it’s all going to come together the way it should, better than she could even imagine it anyway. Plus right now, all she cares about is being who they are in this moment.

Two people at the starting line of love with a whole life left to live.

- - - & - - -

Inside MSG, Mack and Lucie hold hands with Stella as they walk down the concourse to their seats. All three ladies are decked out in their Rangers playoffs gear. Lucie and Stella have bold white letters with their last name and Connor’s number while Mack is adorned in Carlson and 14. Butterflies are swarming in Mack’s stomach that the margarita at dinner did nothing to fix.

“I wish I could drink right now.” Lucie mutters to her sister as the national anthem ends. The boys are in their home blues, circling around and then gathering at the bench for the opening face off.

“Yeah.” Mack breathes out. Usually, she doesn’t care. But today she does. It’s playoffs. The team has a real chance this year and honestly, with David’s long term investment being announced today, she wants him to play well. She wants him to show the fans and the team exactly what they’re going to get for the next eight years.

As David lines up on Connor’s right side. Mack folds her lip into her mouth. She crosses her legs, sending out safe vibes for her man.

Then the puck drops and utter chaos breaks out.

The game is intense. The crowd loud and in the opposing team’s face. Constant cheering and buzz swirls round them as the teams battle on the ice. David keeps getting into little scrums. Mack sighs every time she sees his gloved hand face wash someone. He jaws at number 44 on the opposing team half the time they’re on the ice together.

At the start of the third period, the game is tied 1-1. The Rangers need a push and it’s no surprise to anyone that David drops the gloves with 44. The two of them swing heavy blows at each other, some connecting, some wizzing by the others head. It’s David that ends up on top. As he skates to the box, he swings his arms up in the air, yelling at the crowd to get pumped. Mack giggles, looking over at her sister.

“Why is that so hot?” Mack nibbles her lip seductively, looking down at him in the penalty box. He runs a towel over his face and hair, leaving the black strands sticking up in places.

“I don’t know.” Lucie shrugs.

“Why did he fight?” Stella asks, looking over at Mack like she should answer for him. “Was he mean?”

“Yeah.” Mack settles on. She isn’t sure what else she could say. Stella is too young to understand the nuances of the game and truthfully, Mack doesn’t think she would care anyway. She’s all about trying to get her second bundle of cotton candy.

The team battles to hold their 1-1 tie game while David is in the box. Several dangerous looks are tossed on goal but the Rangers goalie keeps the team in the game. The crowd cheers loudly when David skates out of the box after his time is done. Now that they have fought, 44 and David keep their distance from each other. David has a game to win and his focus is on the next 10 minutes to get them the W.

It takes another 5 minutes, but the Rangers score. Lucie and Mack fly out of their seats, high-fiving and yelling loudly for their boys as they roll through the bench handshake line.

“Connor assisted on that.” Lucie beams proudly.

The next five minutes feel like hours. Several quick whistles hit. TV time outs play out then an on the ice time out before the opponents pull their goalie. Mack watches through her fingers as the clock winds down. David goes down to block a shot that has Mack yelping. He is fine, but she didn’t like that one. When the final buzzer sounds to signal a Rangers win, the building erupts. Fans wave their white towels furiously with their cheers.

The Rangers have one of their 16 wins.

After the game, Lucie and Mack hang out to wait for the boys. Media takes longer in the playoffs and it’s no surprise that both Connor and David are pulled aside for interviews. They walk out of the locker room together, dressed, with still wet hair as they discuss a few plays from the game.

“Next time, let’s look for a reverse there. I don’t think their forecheck can pick that off behind the net.” David says to Connor.

“I agree. Also I wanna see us stepping up more at the blue line. Light ‘em up.” Connor smirks at his partner as they come to stop by the girls.

“Really?” Lucie whines. “Don’t forget someone here is pregnant.” Her belly pokes out of her jacket as she puts her hands on her hips.

“I did that.” Connor sighs happily. He puts a hand on her belly then leans down to kiss her. David does the same with Mack, minus the hand on her stomach.

“Couldn’t resist, huh?” Mack asks David.

“Never.” He grins.

“I liked it.” She admits. “There is something about you all sexy and ruffled in the penalty box that gets to me.”

“Alright. Bye Woods!” David announces. He wraps Mack up tight into his side, almost head locking her in place. Mack laughs, holding onto his back as he drags her forward.

“Bye!” Mack yells, waving to them without looking back. David’s fingers run over the Carlson on her back as he opens the passenger side door for her.

“Speaking of looking sexy…” He trails off, grinning at her.

“Take me home, cowboy.”

David races home, weaving through traffic quickly so he can get Mackenzie Hischier stripped down to just that jacket on her body. When he slides his cock into her from behind, his low groan of appreciation has Mack buzzing as hard as the arena was earlier.

“Fuck. Look so good with me all over you.” David murmurs. His hands run under her jacket to grab her bare hips. His eyes take in her Carlson covered back as he pumps deep inside of her. Mack whimpers at the delicious fullness of him. His palms slide up to her chest, cupping her breasts as she takes him deep. Mack presses up on her hands so his chest meets her back, then she turns her face to moan into his mouth. “You my girl, Hischier?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm that’s right.” He grabs her cheek, keeping her face turned towards his so he can kiss her and fuck her at the same time. He helps her raised more on her knees so it’s easier for them to stay connected everywhere. “All mine.”

Their change in position makes everything deeper. Mack grasps at his neck to hold on while he pistons into her wet core. His other hand trails down her stomach, wiggling her clit in wild strokes.

“I love you.” He says, resting their noses together as he fucks harder into her.

“I love you.” She moans back. The back of her head hits his shoulder and he finishes her off after her desperate pleas for him to make her come.

He pulls out of her afterwards, gently peeling her jacket off to put it in the closet for the game on Thursday. Then he cleans up in the bathroom before coming back to take care of her.

After he is done wiping her clean, he kisses her deeply. Mack’s heart aches for him to be closer even as he pulls her into his chest to cuddle. It never feels like they are close enough for her. She wants to be pasted to him at all times. Mack brings the fingers of her left hand up to his chest. She traces zig zags down his sternum as a tiredness from their big day of activity begins to descend.

A thought comes to her as she thinks about the next eight years spent right here with him.

“I would have gone to Dallas with you. Or Seattle. Or anywhere.” She murmurs to him. “I only want us to be together. It doesn’t matter where.”

“I’m glad you say that because… I wanna be honest with you. This is my last deal and when it’s done, I wanna head home. Build a life there with you that is slower and quieter than this.” His fingers massage her scalp as he talks.

“I would really like that.” Mack tells him. “We can have matching rocking chairs?”

“Of course. I’ll build you one this summer.” Mack nods.

“I know we have some time before then, but I’m hoping you’ll come home with me this summer. Maybe the end of June? Depending on how things go?” Mack offers to him. She’s been thinking about how much she wants to show him of home. She got to experience him in Iowa and she wants him to see her at home too. In her parents lake house where he can get to know her parents and Sophie better.

“Yes. Of course. If things end early here, we can go right away. We could spend a whole month there if you want.”

“Okay.” Mack nods, smiling into his chest. “I’ll take you to the cabin. Show you were I realized how much I wanted this with you.”

“I’d love that.” He acknowledges, squeezing her in tighter.

It all sounds so easy, wrapped up naked in each other now. All the fear about how hard this could be or how it could not work out is gone. Instead, they’re communicating. They’re asking each other to lean in and sometimes compromise too. Both of them are so willing to do that now.

Because this is worth it.

No matter where. No matter what.

Read more Mack and David here.

#mackdavid au #NHL fic #nhl imagine #hockey writing #hockey fan fiction #nhl fan fiction #nhl x oc

18 notes · View notes

brf-rumortrackinganon · 3 months ago

Note

What do you see happening to Harry when the inevitable divorce happens? The kids will be in the US so he can't really move to the UK. Though he doesn't seem that attached to them considering how much he travels and is away from them. Would he be set up in the UK if he did return? What is there to be done with him? He can't return as an official working royal even if Charles refuses to remove him from the website. He obviously needs someone to babysit him so he can't just be let left alone. Would he just play polo until he's too old? I wonder if the BRF actually have a plan if he was to return because I can't think what they'd do with him.

Ask from August 3rd

There are three and a half options for Harry post-divorce if it should happen.

Option 1: if Meghan gets custody of the kids and keeps them in the US, he’ll stay in the US, probably remaining in the LA area or moving up to his corporate BetterUp apartment in San Francisco and commuting down to LA when it’s his custody time. There is a chance he could move to New York since the East Coast is more “old money” and he probably fits in better, society-wise, there (but I think it’s a very low chance). Harry will continue being the BetterUp mascot and travel all over the world playing polo and “running” Invictus Games. He’ll be like a Vince Vaughn/Jon Hamm-type character (perpetual bachelor, kinda dickish but without the charm), still very much living with PTSD, and the kind of weekend dad who’s all fun and games so Meghan/the nannies will always be the bad guys.

Harry will probably trauma-bond to the first woman that can get her claws in him and it’ll probably be another Meghan/Durek-type (holistic, new agey, controlling). I don’t think they’ll marry because Meghan will make their lives a living hell being that close. (But good news, Meghan will probably move her target from Kate to the new girlfriend.)

Option 1B: If by some miracle Harry gets out of California and moves someplace else in the US - like to NYC/northeast, Texas, or Jackson Hole, then he might not be as dickish and might actually level out from all the mental health trauma Meghan put him through. The risk is still high for him to be with a new agey/holistic woman but she’s probably be more of a Shannon Beador-type (from Real Housewives of Orange County; well-meaning but kinda nutty) than a charlatan grifter-type and I can see her influence being calmer and more stabilizing on Harry, perhaps even to the point that he stops the constant PR blitz and just lives his life. If this is what happens, then there’s a good chance that Charles and Eugenie could reach out and relations with the BRF thaw out to the point that Harry can see people when he goes to the UK for “work” instead of getting the door slammed in his face.

Option 2: If Harry gets custody of the kids or the kids go to a UK boarding school, he’ll go back to the UK and be welcomed back in on the family side. No royal work and no public engagements/appearances unless the entire BRF is there (eg, like the Platinum Jubilee service) or it’s exclusively a private family event (like the Easter and Christmas walks). King Charles will throw Harry a bone every once in a while by supporting Invictus Games. His mental health will be addressed and Harry will probably begin healing from all this trauma so he may not be dickish at all, just his usual entitled prince self which someone, probably younger and blonder, will eventually find charming and she’ll “take over” Harry for the BRF in return for a cushy paid-for life (allegedly this is what they offered Meghan but Meghan wasn’t aware of how bad Harry’s mental health was and kept demanding more and more money to stay).

Since it sounds like Harry is pivoting again to the Spencers, he’ll probably settle close to them near Althorp (otherwise King Charles will probably buy a lease for him at/around Highgrove House since William never goes there). Maybe Earl Spencer will take pity and give Harry a small cottage house on the Althorp estate (if there are any).

William might thaw out eventually but their relationship will never be the same and Harry won’t ever be back in the Waleses’ inner circle, and of course, it will depend on whether Harry continues all of his PR. (If Harry continues PR and continues using William for PR, there’s no thawing but if Harry shuts up and stops talking to press, he has a chance of William acknowledging he exists.)

Option 3: Harry moves to Africa or someplace else in the Commonwealth, regardless of custody rulings. Probably the best option for Harry. He just needs to get far, far away from the press, Meghan, and the BRF as possible, reset, and start over. King Charles will take care of/pay for everything. King William will probably continue supporting Harry in this case since it keeps him away from the UK but again, the issue is PR. If Harry stops talking to the press, then his chances with William are better. If he keeps talking to the press, he keeps running PR stories about olive branches or the good old days or wanting to come back, then nothing will change.

#sussexes #brf #divorce watch

47 notes · View notes

redfoxwritesstuff · 9 months ago

Text

Sunflower: Book 1, Chapter 12

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: None- a bit fillery AN: There is some whiplash when you side step into a new and hyper fixation that is so far *not this* that this felt weird lol.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Tom sat at the small dining table talking on the phone. Mia tried not to listen but it was hard not to. What she needed to be doing was sleeping in.

It was Tuesday morning and the strangest weekend of her life was well in the rear view mirror. She had to face reality and go to work tonight. Thankfully her shift was an early one, all things considered but still. It felt like returning to a world that she didn’t quite fit into again and she couldn’t put her finger on why.

“Everything alright?” Mia asked, sitting down at the cramped table with him.

“The lease is signed and you can pick up the keys as early as tomorrow.” Tom started with the good news first. “But I’ve got to fly out to New York today for an interview.”

This was it. Mia knew it was coming. There was no way their lives would allow them to be together and after the night before, it hurt. She hated that it hurt.

They should have kept things business. She shouldn’t have let him in, even a tiny bit. She shouldn’t have opened her heart to the possibility of him. Dumb. God she was so dumb.

“I need to be there for two days.”

“Work snuck up on you?” Mia tried not to sound sad.

“In a way.” Tom took her hand in his, the casual affection burning her heart like a knife. “I’ve been dodging Luke for most of the weekend and it slipped my mind. I can come back here after for a but. I’ll need to make a stop home though in a few weeks.”

“You don’t have to stay here so much.” Mia cringed at her words.

“I want to, darling.” The endearment pulled her eyes to him. Had they gotten to that point? “You’re my wife and it’s only right that when we can be, we’re together. I’ll leave you with some funds for a new couch, groceries and what have you. Whatever you think you’ll need.”

“I can take care of the utilities.” Mia insisted. “I can transfer services from here, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’ll let Luke know.”

~~~~~<3

Mia’s phone pinged, drawing her nose out of her book. It was Ashley texting her a link to a news article. So far, she had been so good about avoiding looking at the tabloid stories for the weekend.

This one though, she couldn’t not see if she was going to dismiss that annoying ‘unread message’ notification. The article preloaded a headline and the picture without her having to click on it. Technology was ever so helpful.

Looking back at her was a picture of her walking, her arm in Tom’s toward the restaurant from the night before. It had worked, someone had taken the picture. There was a zoomed in shot of her left hand, the unique ring set she loved from the moment she woke up married.

“Don’t click it.” Tom’s voice was soft. “That’s not a path you want to go down, trust me.”

“Okay.” She locked her phone. “If you say so.”

“It exists, it means Luke was right and did his job. That’s all that matters.”

~~~~~<3

Sally hugged Tom tightly at the apartment door. Tears glittered in her little blue eyes as her arms strained to hold onto him as hard as she could. She was wrapped in Tom’s arms as he knelt on the ground between his two suitcases and held her to him.

This little person was a part of his life now and in a few short days, he cared for her greatly. It terrified him how quickly that bond developed, more than anything else had. She was a little person who was caught up in this whole marriage business and the chaos of his life. She was a child with no say.

“Are you going to come back and tell me more stories?” Her little voice was muffled by his shoulder.

“Of course.”

“Do you promise?” Sally asked.

“I do.”

Mia’s back stiffened. She was protective over her daughter, as was to be expected of a single mother. There had been countless promises made to Sally over the years that hadn’t been kept. Sometimes, it was Mia herself who didn’t keep the promises but a broken promise that could be avoided was different than someone promising something they couldn’t deliver.

Never promise anything you’re not sure you can keep was a concept she lived by. It was the only thing she could do to try and counter the look on Sally’s face when the promised phone call never came or the Christmas present that was ‘in the mail’ never was delivered.

When Sally got older she will start to question why the gifts were mailed and the time together was by phone when her father only lived on the other side of the city. But for now at least, she was young and thought the best of everyone.

“They’ve got to get going, Sally.” The neighbor girl elected babysitter for the night sat on the couch as she waited. “Come on, let’s watch the Nightmare Before Christmas.”

The movie was Sally’s latest obsession. She loved that she shared a name with a main character.

“I’ll be back in about an hour, give or take.”

~~~~~<3

It felt strange to watch Tom load is bags into the back of the car. She didn’t like it and that was something she didn’t like even more.

They drove to McCarran International Airport with tension thick in the air. It didn’t feel good that he was leaving like she thought it would.

She wanted him to stay longer. She wanted to get to know him more.

Tom shifted, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. Mia watched but didn’t say anything. It felt like there were so many words inside her that she wanted to say but she couldn’t identify a single one.

Tom held a card out to her. “Here,” The card hung in the air, suspended by his fingers. She glanced at it then back to the road.

“You don’t-”

“Think of it as a promise that I’m going to come back.” Tom set the card in the cup holder rather than wait for her to take it.

“That is so cheesy.” Mia couldn’t help but laugh. It was short and died under the tension in the car.

“The movers will be paid ahead. Use that card for a couch and coffee pot- whatever else you feel you need.”

“I can’t just use your card. I don’ want to leave you in a pinch or something.”

“It’s a credit card. It’s got enough on it and won’t leave me stranded if you go overboard. Not that I think you will. Please, use it. Get a couch and coffee maker. Whatever else you need too. And if something comes up and you need it for something else, use it. If you’re unsure, text me. Call me.”

Mia sighed. She wanted to protest and wanted to send him away with his card but she couldn’t. There were things she needed to replace if she was going to not take the bugs with her.

“Fine.”

~~~~~<3

“What airline do you want me to pull up to?” The airport was almost always busier than it had any right to be regardless of the time of day. This time was no exception.

“Can you park?” Tom asked.

“What?” Mia hadn’t expected to park. They’d already gone by the short term parking. “We’d have to swing around again…”

“Delta it is then.”

The car stopped on the side of the road designated to load and unload passengers for Delta airlines. Fiddling with the hem or her shirt, she didn’t know what to do as she stood on the sidewalk.

Tom retrieved his bags from the back of the car without trouble. She had wanted to help but she didn’t want to be in the way. It was easy to be in the way at the airport.

The, in what felt like a blink of an eye, they were standing on the sidewalk together. What an awkward pair they made.

“You should probably get going, huh?” She didn’t know what else to say. What she really wanted to say was: ‘don’t go’. She couldn’t say that though.

“I’ll be back in a few days.” Tom said and they stood in silence again.

People moved around them. The night sky was a deep dark blue though the ground all around them was lit up bright as day. There was no shortage of lights around the airport.

“Come here.” Tom reached out and grabbed her by the wrist.

She was caught off guard by the action. He pulled her to him and she went easy enough. In a blink of the eye, she was in his arms and the world slowed down and tears she didn’t expect burned at her eyes.

It felt safe in his arms. The heat of his body radiated off of him. There was more than enough heat in the air already but the heat of his body was something different. She could feel the pounding of his heart in his chest. The scent of his body wash clung to him.

Had he held her since the morning after they changed their lives forever? She didn’t think so. There had been small moments of careful affection but this was not that. Was it a show for anyone observing them? For some unseen cameras he forgot to warn her about? Was it real or was it an act?

“What are you doing?” Mia carefully wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m holding you.” Tom said as if he didn’t know what the actual question was.

“Why?” Mia mumbled, her cheek resting on his chest. “Is someone taking pictures?”

“Not that I know of.” She could feel him sigh.

“Then why?”

He was quite for a few moments. The world moved around them and she couldn’t help but to relax into the embrace. The airport faded away as her eyes slipped closed.

“Because I wanted to.” Tom finally answered. “Because I think I’m going to miss you.”

Nothing seemed like the right response to his confession. In the absence of words, she simply pulled herself tighter against him for a moment. Would it convey what she wanted to say but was too scared?

And then, the embrace was over, and he was walking away with a parting wave.

Watching him disappear into the airport, bags rolling behind him left her feeling alone. He thought he was going to miss her. She was scared to say it but, she thought just maybe she would miss him too. It was something she should have said. She wished she had said it.

She stood watching as he made his way toward the ticket machines. He stopped and looked out the large windows. Her breath caught in her chest as a look of surprise crossed his face for a moment before it lit up in one of his smiles. His smiles were beautiful.

Raising his hand, he waved at her a final goodbye.

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

Mia’s hands were held in his. Her heart felt like it was trying to beat out of her chest. The words said to here were hard to follow but she loved the way they sounded in his voice.

He had a magical voice. This was magic. He was magic.

“Do you take this woman to be your wife?” The officiant said. The rest of the things after were lost to her but that lingered in her mind.

“I do.” Tom said as clearly and confidently as if he had been sober.

It took a few tries to thread the matching wedding bad onto her finger though once it did, it nestled against the engagement ring perfectly. She hoped that they would nestle their lives together into one just as perfectly.

“And do you take this man to be your husband?” Again the other words were lost. Was he able to keep track of the things being said to them?

“I do.” She hoped she sounded as clear and confident as he did. The simple gold band slipped onto his finger as if it was made to be there. It felt like his hand had been waiting forever for her to put that simple ring where it had always belonged.

“You may kiss the bride.” The officiant said.

Tom reached out, caressing her cheek with his hand before pulling her into him. She could feel the metal ring on his finger and loved it. Then his lips were on her��s.

Soft and strong. She could smell the whiskey on his breath and as she gasped a breath, she could then taste it on his tongue. Her arms were around his neck as she arched into his embrace.

There was no where else in the world she was meant to be in that moment.

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101 @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing

#Tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x oc #Tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston fanfic #Tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston rpf

26 notes · View notes

eaglesnick · 8 months ago

Text

Private Sector Good, Public Sector Bad?

The reigning ideological economic theory within the Conservative Party is, and has been ever since Margaret Thatcher came to power, that “markets know best”

This was made abundantly clear when Kwasi Kwateng, the Chancellor of Liz Truss’s short-lived government, dismissed anything resembling a “planned economy”. Rather, growth and economic success depended on:

“…the power of our treasured free-market economy to leverage private capital and unleash Britain’s unique entrepreneurial spirit to grow new industries." (The Conversation: 13/04/22)

The key words here are “to leverage private capital”. What this means in ordinary speech is to encourage private investors to participate financially in “projects that benefit the economy, society or the environment”. This has resulted in private investors running (and in many cases, owning) most of our public utilities and services. But rather than “benefit the economy, society and environment" these private investors have devastated it.

Over the next few blogs I intend to look at various British/English public utilities and services and to see how they have fared under the private sector. First up are the railways.

Britain’s railways are organised within a mishmash of private and public ownership, and has been described as “broken" and no longer fit for purpose.

“The UK's train network is not only one of the worst in Europe, it is also one of the most expensive.” (euronews: 20/05/21

This is no surprise given its complex and chaotic structure. The railway tracks and rail network are owned and operated by Network Rail, which is a “non-departmental public body of the Department for Transport, (DFT) with no shareholders"

Non-departmental public bodies are a strange entity. They are national or regional bodies that work independently of government, are not staffed by civil servants, and yet are still accountable to government ministers. It is the Secretary of State for Transport who sets the strategic direction of the railways, allocating funding, and it is the secretary of state who has to approve major investments in the railway system.

The companies that operate the trains are privately owned and are either awarded franchises from the DFT, or they are “open access” operators that provide passenger services on a particular route or network, but with no exclusive rights enjoyed by franchise holders.

To complicate matters further, the actual trains, passenger carriages and railway wagons, known collectively as “rolling stock”, are owned by the rolling stock leasing companies” (ROSCOs) who lease out their stock to the privately owned rail operating companies.

Freight train operators are totally separate from passenger trains, have no contracts with government but do need permission from Network Rail to run their services.

For year 2022/23 the railways received £11.9bn of government funding and Network Rail has secured £27.5 bn of government funding over the next five years. In short, we the taxpayer invest heavily in our rail network which the private passenger, rolling stock and freight companies use to make a profit.

A 2019 report by the TUC found that:

“Rail firms have paid over £1bn to shareholders in the last 6 years.” (TUC: 02/01/2019)

In 2022 Avanti West Coast received a taxpayer subsidy of £343m, despite having the worst punctuality record amongst train operators and paying out £12m to its shareholders. Avanti West Coast is owned by First Group, who also own Great Western Railway and South Western Railway. Great Western paid out the largest dividend in 2021/22, £33m, while South Western paid out £13m.

More recently:

“UK rail operator Govia awards $79m in dividends amid UK rail dissatisfaction.” (Railway Technology: 08/01/24)

Govia is largely foreign owned, the three largest shareholder companies being Australian, Spanish and French. In 2022 it was fined £23m “over financial irregularities" having failed to return £25m in taxpayer funding. Why on earth any government would want to go on subsidising such a company is beyond understanding, especially as the Transport Minister at the time said the company had:

“…committed an appalling breach of trust...behaviour was simply unacceptable and this penalty sends a clear message that the government, and taxpayers, will not stand for it." (BBC News: 17/03/22)

Clearly the minister (Grant Shapps) didn’t mean what he said as Govia is still operating trains two years later and still courting controversy

Turning to the train-leasing companies, we find:

“Profits of UK’s private train-leasing firms treble in a year. More than £400m paid in dividends in 2022-23 while rest of railway faced cuts and salary freezes.” (Guardian: 18/02/24)

These companies saw their profit margins rise to 41%, a profit that we as taxpayers and passengers pay for. It is estimated that "taxpayers are now effectively paying the £3.1bn spent last year on leasing trains.” To actually run a passenger rail service yet not own a single locomotive or passenger carriage is bazaar to say the very least.

Finding overall profit figures for freight train operators is a little more difficult but Colas Rail UK’s revenue in 2022 was £15,529m, up 17% on the previous year, an operating profit of £460m.

Overall, taxpayer subsidies to the rail industry run at £6bn per year. However, these massive subsidies have not led to lower fares, an end to over-crowed trains, or an efficient service. According to TaxPayers Alliance 02/01/23) "rail subsidies cost taxpayers £1300 each by March 2023.” Meanwhile the private companies that operate the highly fragmented and disjointed system continue to reap profits and pay out dividends.

Maybe this would not be so bad if the British taxpayer subsidised dividend payouts went to British owned companies, but this is far from the case:

“According to the Rail, Maritime and Transport Union, 70% of Britain’s railways are now under foreign ownership to some degree.” (CityA.M.: 11/01/17)

The figure of 70% foreign ownership is disputed, not least because some companies have gone bust since 2017, with five lines now being effectively run by the government as “operators of last resort.” As the 1993 Railways Act forbids the UK state from running the railways these lines are likely to be franchised out to private firms in the future.

“…many foreign state-owned enterprises of the Netherlands, Germany, France, Italy and Hong Kong now run rail franchises in the UK." (The Standard: 11/05/23)

While other countries have no philosophical problem with running railways for the benefit of their citizens, and clearly have no qualms about investing state money in foreign ventures, the Conservative Party is ideologically opposed to state intervention in running UK public services and is vehemently opposed to setting up a UK sovereign wealth fund.

In summary, successive Tory governments have continued to pay taxpayers money into the coffers of private enterprise regardless of how efficient, honest or effective these firms are at providing an essential public service. Clearly, where the railways are concerned, they are not run to “benefit the economy, society and environment" but for the benefit and interests of private investors, in the mistaken Tory belief that private enterprise is always better than public stewardship despite evidence to the contrary.

#uk politics #rishi sunak #Trains #franchise #leasing network rail #taxpayer money #profits private enterprise #inefficient #expensive #p

9 notes · View notes

stlivingla · 6 days ago

Text

Townhouses for rent in Hollywood

Hollywood is synonymous with glamour, entertainment, and an iconic lifestyle. If you’re looking to immerse yourself in the heart of this vibrant city, townhouses for rent in Hollywood by Stlivingla are the perfect choice. Offering a mix of luxury, comfort, and convenience, these properties are ideal for professionals, families, and creatives seeking to live in style.

Why Choose Townhouses for Rent in Hollywood? Living in a townhouse combines the best of both worlds: the spaciousness of a standalone home with the convenience of modern urban living. Here’s why Stlivingla’s townhouses stand out:

Prime Location Nestled in the heart of Hollywood, these townhouses offer easy access to everything the area has to offer. From world-renowned attractions like the Hollywood Walk of Fame to trendy restaurants, shopping hubs, and entertainment venues, your new home keeps you close to the action.

Spacious and Modern Interiors Each townhouse is thoughtfully designed to provide ample living space, modern finishes, and a layout that promotes both comfort and functionality. Features may include:

Open floor plans with natural light Contemporary kitchens with premium appliances Elegant bedrooms and bathrooms Private outdoor spaces like patios or balconies

Community Amenities Stlivingla goes beyond just providing a place to live. Their properties often feature additional amenities such as:

Secure parking Fitness centers Rooftop lounges with stunning city views Pet-friendly options These facilities ensure residents enjoy a luxurious lifestyle while fostering a sense of community.

Benefits of Renting with Stlivingla When you rent a townhouse in Hollywood through Stlivingla, you’re choosing more than just a property. You’re opting for an experience backed by professional property management and exceptional service.

Hassle-Free Leasing Process Stlivingla ensures a seamless and transparent leasing experience. Their team assists with property viewings, paperwork, and any queries, making it easy to find your dream home.

Maintenance Support Residents can rely on prompt maintenance services for any issues, ensuring peace of mind throughout your stay.

Flexible Lease Options Whether you’re seeking a short-term rental or a longer commitment, Stlivingla provides options tailored to your needs.

Explore Hollywood Living Renting a townhouse in Hollywood allows you to experience the best of city life while enjoying the privacy and comfort of a well-designed home. Some nearby attractions include:

Hollywood Boulevard: A stroll through this historic street reveals iconic landmarks and vibrant nightlife. Runyon Canyon Park: Perfect for hiking and soaking in breathtaking views of Los Angeles. The Hollywood Bowl: Enjoy world-class performances at this famous outdoor amphitheater. Living in Hollywood also means being part of a creative and diverse community that thrives on innovation and artistic expression.

Conclusion Hollywood living is more than a dream—it’s a lifestyle. With Stlivingla’s Townhouses for rent in Hollywood, you can enjoy the perfect blend of luxury, comfort, and convenience in one of the world’s most exciting neighborhoods.

#boutique apartment #apartmentsforrent #hollywoodkoreatown #newly constructed apartments for rent in koreatown

2 notes · View notes

guam-realtor · 14 days ago

Text

Why Choosing the Right Guam Realtor is Key to Finding Your Perfect Island Home

Finding the perfect property in Guam—whether it’s your dream home, a rental, or an investment—requires more than just browsing listings online. It’s about understanding the local market, negotiating the best deal, and making informed decisions that match your needs and goals. A professional Guam realtor can provide the guidance, expertise, and support you need to make the process smooth and successful. In this blog, we’ll explore why choosing the right Guam realtor is crucial and how their services can help you find Guam homes for sale, Guam homes for rent, or Guam apartments for rent.

Why a Guam Realtor is Essential for Your Property Search

When looking for property in a unique market like Guam, a Guam realtor brings invaluable local knowledge and experience. Here’s why working with a Guam real estate agent is crucial:

Market Insight and Expertise A Guam realtor understands the local market trends, pricing, and availability of properties. They can offer insights into specific neighborhoods, which is critical when looking for Guam homes for sale or Guam homes for rent. Whether you're new to the island or already familiar with it, a local agent provides the edge needed to make informed decisions.

Access to Exclusive Listings Many of the best deals in the Guam real estate market aren’t widely advertised. A Guam realtor has access to exclusive listings, including off-market properties and upcoming rentals. They’ll ensure that you don’t miss out on a perfect property simply because it wasn’t listed on major websites.

Negotiation Skills Negotiating the best price or rental terms is one of the most important aspects of buying or renting property. A skilled Guam realtor brings experience in negotiating contracts and prices, helping you secure favorable terms. Whether you’re buying Guam homes for sale or negotiating the rent for Guam apartments for rent, having an expert on your side ensures you get the best deal.

How a Guam Realtor Can Help You Find the Right Property

The real estate journey can be overwhelming, especially in a dynamic market like Guam. A professional Guam realtor simplifies the process and helps you focus on finding the perfect property. Here are some examples of how a Guam realtor can assist:

Guam Homes for Sale

If you’re looking to purchase Guam homes for sale, a realtor can help you narrow down your options based on your preferences, budget, and lifestyle needs. Whether you're interested in a beachfront villa, a modern home in the suburbs, or a secluded property, a Guam realtor can provide listings that fit your exact requirements. Their local knowledge ensures that you're making a wise investment for both the short and long term.

Guam Homes for Rent

If buying isn’t on your radar just yet, or you’re only staying on the island temporarily, you might be looking at Guam homes for rent. A Guam real estate agent can provide you with rental options that align with your needs, whether you’re searching for a short-term lease or a long-term home. Renting in Guam offers flexibility, and a Guam realtor will help you find a property that fits your lifestyle and budget.

Guam Apartments for Rent

For those seeking more affordable or low-maintenance options, Guam apartments for rent are an excellent choice. From cozy studio apartments to spacious multi-bedroom units, a Guam realtor can help you find the perfect apartment. They’ll guide you through the rental process, making sure you get the best possible price for the space, and ensuring all lease terms are clear and fair.

Benefits of Working with a Guam Realtor Over DIY Property Searches

While it’s possible to browse listings online and try to navigate the real estate market independently, working with a Guam realtor offers significant benefits:

Time Savings Searching for the right property takes time—more time than most people realize. A Guam realtor takes the legwork out of your search by narrowing down listings based on your criteria, scheduling viewings, and handling paperwork, so you can focus on other important matters.

Expert Advice A Guam real estate agent doesn’t just show you properties—they also provide valuable advice based on their experience. Whether you need help evaluating the true value of a property or understanding zoning regulations, a realtor’s expertise is invaluable in making well-informed decisions.

Streamlined Process The real estate process involves many steps, from viewing properties to negotiating contracts to finalizing paperwork. A Guam realtor streamlines the entire journey, ensuring that you don’t miss any important steps and helping you close deals faster and more efficiently.

Local Expertise: Why a Guam Realtor is Your Best Ally

Guam is a unique market with its own set of challenges and opportunities. Working with a Guam realtor provides you with a professional who understands the island’s unique real estate landscape. They are equipped to offer insights into the best areas to live, whether you’re looking for proximity to the beach, a quiet neighborhood, or close access to schools and work.

Understanding Local Communities

A Guam realtor has firsthand knowledge of various communities and neighborhoods on the island. Whether you're interested in Guam homes for sale in Tumon, looking for a Guam apartment for rent in Dededo, or exploring Guam homes for rent in Mangilao, they will match you with locations that meet your preferences.

Navigating Local Regulations

Real estate transactions in Guam can differ from other places, especially when it comes to zoning laws, taxes, and regulations. A local Guam realtor is familiar with these regulations and will guide you through every step, ensuring that your transaction is smooth and legally sound.

How https://romaguamproperties.com/ Can Help You Find Your Ideal Property

At https://romaguamproperties.com/, we are committed to making your property journey as seamless and successful as possible. Here’s how we help:

Comprehensive Listings: Whether you’re looking for Guam homes for sale, Guam homes for rent, or Guam apartments for rent, our listings cover a wide range of properties to suit every lifestyle and budget.

Personalized Service: We take the time to understand your needs and match you with the perfect property. Our expert Guam realtor team is dedicated to providing tailored recommendations based on your unique preferences.

Stress-Free Experience: We handle the details, from property showings to paperwork, ensuring a smooth transaction. Our goal is to make your real estate experience in Guam as easy and enjoyable as possible.

Conclusion: Start Your Real Estate Journey with a Trusted Guam Realtor

Whether you’re looking for Guam homes for sale, Guam homes for rent, or Guam apartments for rent, working with a Guam realtor is the best way to ensure a smooth, informed, and successful property search. At https://romaguamproperties.com/, we offer expert advice, exclusive listings, and personalized service to help you find the perfect property on the island. Contact us today to begin your real estate journey in beautiful Guam!

#Guam Real Estate Agent #Guam realtor #Guam homes for sale #Guam homes for rent #Guam apartments for rent

2 notes · View notes