#i have cash to buy alcohol but i was originally going to get a decent bottle of wine

[kiwidotcom]

went to deposit a cheque into my account to discover i have $30 until my next pay cheque 😩

and of course the app isnt letting me deposit this cheque. because why bother having an app if its functional. a banking app that works ????! wild

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part twenty) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7600 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part twenty: It’s auction time! Two horses of the Gold Canyon Ranch are up for sale. Will they get the price they are hoping for? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music:  Sold - John Michael Montgomery (Auction scene), Save A Horse - Big & Rich (Jo & Y/N dancing scene), Good Time - Alan Jackson (Dean & Y/N dancing scene), In Case You Didn’t Know - Brett Young (Final scene). Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @kittenofdoomage​, @manawhaat​ and @winchest09​ for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “Sold! For 3750 dollars to number 48!”

     The auctioneer slams the gavel down on the block, sealing the deal. A sigh of relief falls from Dean and Jo’s lips, who are leaning over the high fence at the auction pen. Almost four grand for an unbroken two year old Mustang is more than a fair price these days. The average numbers have been decent so far, especially considering the current economic depression that is weighing down on the country.  

     Benny leads the young horse out of the arena, him and Dean exchanging a nod, accompanied with a smile. The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is playing it cool, but all are well aware how desperately the cash is needed. It’s not something the whole circuit needs to know, however. Much like any business where money is involved, there are always those who are eager for an opportunity to profit off the loss of others. There are plenty of vultures circling the skies above their potential prey, waiting to take advantage. Dean will not let that happen.

     A new horse is brought in and the auctioneer starts rambling again, announcing prices while assistants scan the crowd for bidders. It’s a vibrant ambience, most people here to make deals, others to have fun. Upbeat country music rallies on the buyers who watch one animal after another come into the pen, judging their conformation, gait and looks before they raise their sign into the air to announce their bid. The small indoor arena is more crowded than one would expect after the market collapsed earlier this year. He notices that Y/N is experiencing some difficulty getting through the mass of people, trying to push past people while transporting three huge burgers.

     “Sorry, got held up, there was a line,” she excuses, handing the fast food to the wranglers.      “You didn’t have to do that, Yank,” Dean returns, taking the large burger in his hand nonetheless.      “Yes, I did. You haven’t eaten, yet. Dig in,” she returns.      Grinning, he moves the welcoming food to his mouth to take a bite. Once again she surprises him with her care and observations. Nothing goes past her, especially when it comes to his well-being.

     Y/N glances at the large display on the back wall where the sold horses are listed. She thought the biddings stalled just under 4000 dollars and the numbers on the screen confirm it. “The price for the Mustang wasn’t bad, was it?”      “Not at all. Dad still has to pay ten percent commission, but he’s gonna be satisfied with almost three and a half grand,” Jo agrees. “If that Pinto sells for good money, you might wanna break it to him that you two are the new Sonny & Cher, before he catches you two lovebirds red-handed.”      With his mouth full, Dean chuckles at the blonde Cowgirl’s remark, which she paired with a perked eyebrow. He lets his free hand slip around his girlfriend’s waist, gently pulling her closer.      “I’ll tell him when we get back on Monday, promise,” he announces, more to Y/N than to Jo. “He’s too busy doin’ business now anyways.”

     Y/N smiles at the assurance, leaning into him. She’s glad Dean is so comfortable with her by his side in the presence of others, but just as important, she’s glad Jo has realized Dean isn’t just fooling around. Her friend has always supported her, but it took her a second to believe her cousin’s intentions are, in fact, good. Her skepticism wasn’t random; she has seen plenty of tears fall for the ladykiller. But those days are in the past now.      “What time is the second horse going up for auction?” Y/N wonders.      Dean checks his watch and glances at the horse currently in the pen, who is carrying a tag with ‘204’ on it. “He’s number 211, so he should be up in twenty minutes or so.”      “Think Benny will manage?” Jo checks.      “Yeah, he has plenty of time to switch them. Let him make himself useful, he’s not riding any horses this weekend anyway,” the head wrangler grins.

     The crew members finish their quick meal, the three of them now leaning over the fence while watching the exciting auction. The burgers are delicious, fresh off the grill from one of the many food stands, topped with cheddar and crispy bacon. Quality greasy event garbage, but Y/N wouldn’t want it any other way. Usually she tries to eat healthy, keep her body nourished for  the hard physical labor she puts into her work. During shows, however, she always lets go. She knows that she can’t swallow a bite before her runs, not with the nerves always closing off her throat and having her stomach in knots. But staring down at the big, juicy burger in her hands, she just dives in; figures it’s better to stash up on carbs before her big day than to fall short.

     Twenty minutes later, Benny leads the Pinto into the auction pen. The horse looks magnificent, his white patches washed clean and the fur that’s black shining under the limelight. His mane, detangled and brushed, cascades down his well formed neck, reaching his shoulders. The stallion is stunning, getting a reaction from the audience.

     “Alright, y’all, this is quite the looker we got here. We present this two year old Pinto stallion, owned by the Gold Canyon Ranch. A tall fella which stands at sixteen hands, strong enough to carry a big Cowboy around the competition arena. Sired by Cash Button, well-known APHA champion producer. As you can see he’s haltered, but unbroken, so if you’re lookin’ for a fine show horse to start fresh with, this is the one for you.”

     Dean is glad to hear that the auctioneer does a good job promoting their horses. The speaker can make or break an auction, so he’s thankful the organization hired a skilled one.

     Somewhat nervous, Dean sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble as he takes in the traders on the bleachers. Jody managed to buy Sundance, despite the huge interest in the mare. She paid a whopping fifteen grand for the talented barrel racer, who stayed at the top of the rank and scored Jo the first win of the competition. Now that the Mustang switched owners for a reasonable price as well, a big stack of cash for the Pinto would really bring the ranch back in the clear… for now. Dean is aware that it will take more than one good day to nurse the company back to financial health again, but it would be a good start.

     “Opening bid is 2500 dollars, so let’s get this bid started, people. 2500, 2500 for the gentleman on the front row. Can I get a 3000?”

     The auctioneer begins his bid calling, the rhythmic repetition of numbers and words adding to the tensed atmosphere. It’s a fast chant that engages the crowd and brings a sense of urgency on the possible buyers. But no matter how hard the speaker tries, the biddings slow once they near three grand, nowhere near the number they hoped the stallion would sell for.

     “Last chance to become the new owner of this stunning future prospect, folks. 3500 dollars now, will you give me 3750? Going once…”

     “C’mon, c’mon,” Dean mutters, drumming his thumb on the wooden fence.      Y/N watches the mass of people, but she can’t see any new signs popping up. It couldn’t possibly be that the Pinto will go for less than the Mustang, even though he’s worth more?      “Did Bobby arrange a reserve?” she checks with Jo.      Her friend shakes her head, glancing at her with worried eyes.      Y/N now shifts her attention to her other side, taking in the head wrangler, noticing the frown edged on his forehead under the brim of his hat. He’s radiating tension, much like Jo, all three keeping their eyes on the $ 3500,- on the screen. It’s not enough, but it might be the amount they will have to settle for.

     “Going twice…”

     “Four thousand!”      All three perk up, trying to make out where the bid originated from. The distinctive voice is easily recognizable though, the woman’s strong accent hard to miss; it’s Donna.      “Four grand, ladies and gents! Do we have another bidder? 4250 dollars, 4250 anyone?”

     Out of nowhere, another number is raised into the air, one of the assistants pointing at the bidder and shouting back a ‘yup!’ at the auctioneer.

     “We’ve got 4250 dollars now, 4250. Can I get a 4500?”      “Five!” Donna calls out.      “Five grand! Do we have 5500?”

     And there you have it, a bidding war. Dean exchanges a look with Jo, who smiles as the bids keep going back and forth like a tennis match, the stakes taken higher every time the ball is bounced back. Y/N watches in anticipation, getting more excited every time the amount that is about to be paid for the Pinto grows larger.

     “Seven and a half grand. 7500,- dollars. Is bidder number 24 gonna raise? You tell me, young lady. For 7750 dollars this gorgeous stallion can be yours. What do you say? 7500 dollars, going once...”

     The rancher with Minnesota roots seems to hesitate, discussing her next move with Jody, who’s seated next to her on the bleachers. After a few nerve-wrecking seconds, Donna keeps her sign down; they can’t go higher, but she took it high enough to make this a successful auction for Bobby Singer.

     “Going twice… Sold! To lucky number 7 for 7500 dollars!”

     The audience applauds the entertaining battle, Benny making a little fist, modestly celebrating the good sale as he walks the horse out of the pen. All the members of the Gold Canyon Ranch family know it; this is a much needed win.

     Unable to contain her elation, Y/N reaches for Dean’s hand, entwining her fingers with his. It draws his attention and he glances aside at her, his green irises full of delight. The worry has dissolved from his eyes, the weariness gone for a moment. Today is a good day; they can let their guard down for a little while.

     “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but with three horses sold and Jo winning the barrel race, I believe we have reason to celebrate!” Y/N says cheerily, looking between Dean and her best friend.      “Hell to the yeah! I think I deserve a drink,” Jo agrees victoriously.      “Come on then.” Y/N grips Dean’s hand tighter, nudging him to follow. “Let’s hit the bar.”

     “Does everyone have a drink?” Y/N checks, looking around to make sure everyone has either a glass or a beer bottle in hand.

     The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is standing around a barrel that serves as a high table, accompanied by Donna and Jody. A live band, consisting of a drummer, a banjo player and a singer who also plays an acoustic guitar, treats the attending guests to a great show. Strings of lightbulbs are connecting the steel frame that keeps the high tent up, its canvas lit with alternating colored spots. The bartenders have to kick it up a gear to keep up with the demand, people waiting to place their order on all sides of the horseshoe-shaped counter. Riders, trainers, horse owners and spectators are laughing, dancing and having a good old time. Nothing today would suspect that business isn’t as usual.

     Dean enjoys the carefree feeling and raises his bottle, joined by his workers and his boss. Even the grumpy old man lifts his IPA into the air, a sparkle back in his uncle’s eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while.      “Alright, y’all. Let’s congratulate Jody Mills here with the purchase of a future champion. Glad to do business with you as always,” he starts, giving the short haired ranch owner a nod, “and of course we raise our drinks to my Joanna for the win.” He throws his daughter a subtle but proud smile, before he turns to the rest of the crew. “Thank y’all for pitchin’ in and for all the hard work.”      “To the Gold Canyon Ranch,” Benny adds, clinking his glass against those of his colleagues and friends, who repeat his words with a cheer.

     Being on the opposite side of the table, Dean takes the opportunity to move his hand to the small of his girlfriend’s back, letting it rest on her hip, knowing Bobby won’t be able to spot it. He presses his fingertips into the denim, meeting her gaze as he takes a good swig of his drink.

     It doesn’t take long before his uncle is dragged away from the fun by a horse trader, without a doubt stealing his time to negotiate about other horses Bobby plans to sell. As Dean predicted, he will be too busy mingling and so Y/N is delighted when her boyfriend leaves an affectionate kiss on her temple. She closes her eyes and smiles at the sweet gesture, counting her blessings. With every touch, every look, the nervousness dissolves a little further.

     When she entered the tent earlier, she felt her heartbeat quicken and her mouth running dry. She’s well aware Dean is easy on the eyes, because she has caught herself getting lost in the image of him more times than she can count, but now it wasn’t just her who noticed his looks. The handsome cowboy made plenty of heads turn, a few women greeting him with a flirtatious ‘Hey, Dean’ as the group passed through the crowd to find a spot. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, her boyfriend’s reply to them stinging sharply in the pit of her stomach, even though he was only trying to be polite. It’s not just jealousy that has her lose grip. It’s worry, because she feels intimidated by all the girls that seem to throw themselves at the wrangler. They are all beautiful, stunning looking women, vibrant and confident. More beautiful than me, the insecure voice in the back of her mind once again reminds her.

     He noticed the uneasiness, able to read her body language better each day, and he tried to reassure her the best he could with Bobby still being in their presence. Now that the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch has moved away to do business, she’s glad Dean instantly rose to the occasion to pull her closer and let her know who he belongs to.

     “Want another drink?” Dean asks, not just his girlfriend, but the other people in his company as well while he takes the ranch’s credit card from his wallet.      Y/N notices the slight hint of hesitation in Jo’s expression before she answers, and she reckons it has something to do with the ridiculous prices on the venue, a beer being seven dollars. Four bucks might not sound like much, but when you start buying rounds, the money to be paid at the bar adds up. That card already got declined once today, and both she and Jo  don’t want Dean to deal with the same embarrassment the youngest Singer had to go through at the show office earlier.      “This round’s on me,” Y/N decides, digging up her own card from her back pocket.      “You don’t have to do that,” he objects under his breath, trying not to let his pride slip through.      “I’ll be glad to,” she counters quickly, not taking no for an answer, turning to the others. “Another beer? Jody? Donna? Glass of wine?”      Eagerly, Jo and Benny look up, completely in sync with the two women who they share the table with, all nodding at the offer, all nodding at the offer.

     “At least let me pick up the drinks then?” Dean offers before she gets up from her seat, not too keen of his girlfriend paying for him, but knowing that determined look in her eyes well enough to not go against her.      She agrees on the compromise with a sigh and gives him her card. “Three beers, two white wines and a coke for me.”      “No margarita?” he checks.      “No, sticking to the one. I have a ride to win tomorrow,” she explains, adding a smug smile.      Dean chuckles at that before he turns around, heading for the bar.

     Y/N takes a second to watch him walk away, wondering if she did the right thing. She doesn’t want him or the ranch to pay now that she knows they are low on money while she has plenty, but Dean seemed bothered. She gets it, the man is supposed to pay for the drinks, but this is the twenty-first century; she is just as entitled to pick up the bill as he is.

     “Y’know, you don’t have to keep savin’ us,” Jo comments, making sure that Donna and Jody, who are having a laugh with Benny, can’t pick up on the conversation.      “It’s okay, Jo,” Y/N assures. “It’s the least I can do. I don’t mind at all.”      “I know you don’t, but he might.” She nods at her cousin. “It’s a guy thing. My Dad’s the same way, you should have heard him when he found out you paid the fees because his card didn’t work. Old fashioned country boys seem to think the weight of the world is theirs to carry.”      The intern sniggers, hiding her concern. “Well, those country boys need to learn that us girls can take on that weight just fine.”

     She glances to the bar again, expecting her boyfriend to return with a tray of drinks, but when people move away and no longer obstruct her view, her breathing hitches. Y/N spots Dean casually leaning on the counter with his elbow, talking to a girl. The young woman is all smiles, raking her fingers through her wavy, blonde locks, the light above the bar shining down and highlighting the chemistry. She looks stunning; slim figure, long legs wrapped in torn jeans, exposing skin of her knees and thighs. When she leans forward while laughing at something he said, her cleavage is on display.

     As  the color drains from Y/N’s cheeks, Jo follows her friend’s fixated stare, her face falling when she notices the two by the bar. Dean doesn’t cross a line by any means, but it’s clear that the woman who took an interest in the head wrangler has every intention to persuade him.      “Who is she? You know her?” Y/N asks, the questions rapid and laced with worry.      “Yeah, that’s Jamie Sward,” Jo states.      “Please tell me it’s not one of his exes?” She rips her eyes away from the painful sight, shielding her face in embarrassment.      “‘Ex’ wouldn’t be the right word, but yeah, they did have an on and off thing in the past,” Jo admits carefully, not wanting to lie to her. “Sis, it’s fine. He’s an idiot, but he’s not that much of an idiot. They are  probably just talking.”      “Her breasts are hanging out of her shirt!” Y/N hisses frustrated, blood rushing to her face now, a contrast to her pale skin tone mere seconds ago.

     “So…” Jamie says, taking a sip from her drink while looking over her glass at the handsome wrangler. “What are you up to these days? Still working at Gold Canyon?”      “Yeah, kinda became furniture of the place. Don’t think I’ll ever leave to be honest,” he chuckles, watching the bartender preparing the drinks he ordered. “What about you?”      “Oh y’know, worked a few bars in Phoenix to pay for college, sulked over the fact that you stopped calling me,” the beautiful blonde returns, the smirk that accompanies her perked eyebrow telling him that she’s not too broken up about it.

     “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he rubs the back of his neck, well aware that he ignored her messages the past month and a half.      “Don’t sweat it. We weren’t dating. Just having fun, right?” Jamie shrugs casually, setting down her drink again. “Talking about fun, I have a room at Days Inn if you’re interested.”

     The offer hangs in the air and it’s only now that Dean realizes he’s on thin ice here. When the blonde cowgirl approached him, somehow it didn’t dawn on him where the conversation was heading towards, simply because he’s not interested in her in the slightest. Ever since he met Y/N, he can’t bring himself to give a damn about any other woman, and Jamie is no exception.

     “I’m uh - I’m gonna have to say ‘no’,” he says, almost apologetic, not wanting to hurt her feelings, because she is a sweet girl. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you. I met someone and things have been really great--”      “Wait. Are you taken?” she interrupts, astonished. “Are you serious? You’re in a relationship?”      He nods, unable to stop a beaming smirk from showing. “Yeah. She’s awesome. I don’t get why everyone acts so surprised, though.”      “C’mon, Dean Winchester. With your reputation?” Jamie snorts. “But hey, no hard feelings. I’m happy for you.”

     She means it, he can tell. He gives her an appreciative nod as the bartender sets the last two beers on the carton tray, which Dean picks up from the bar.      “Right, I’m gonna get back to my girl. Good to see ya again, James,” he says before he leaves.      “You too, Dean. Good luck tomorrow!” she says cheerily, giving him a little wave before she heads off herself.

     With a content smile on his face, the head wrangler returns to the table. It’s only after he has given everyone else their drinks and sets down the Coca-Cola bottle in front of his girlfriend that he locks eyes with her and notices the stale, yet anxious look on her face.      “What is it?” he wonders.      “Jamie seemed awfully friendly,” she comments, fidgeting with the straw of her drink to have something to focus on.

     Dean lifts his head slightly as his jaw lowers. He tries not to roll his eyes and pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Right, that conversation might have looked a little different from a distance than how it actually went. The penny drops and he turns to face Jo and shoots her a glare. The fact that Y/N has learned the name of the woman he’s been talking to gives away that his cousin apparently revealed more than he would have wanted.      “Okay!” Jo takes her cue and clears her throat, deciding that this would be a good time to exit the conversation. “I’m gonna request some songs to dodge the awkwardness. Have fun, you two.”      The ranch owner’s daughter quickly sneaks past Dean towards the dancefloor, heading to the stage. Before Dean speaks, he glances aside to make sure the others won’t pick up on their conversation. Deciding that he wants some more privacy, he takes Y/N’s hand and beckons her to come with him to an empty booth on the side.

     “Y/N, listen. I don’t know what Jo said--” he starts, before she cuts him off.      “- Jo has nothing to do with this. She was actually defending you. Don’t tell her I told you that.” Y/N sits down on the bench next to him, knowing that her best friend wouldn’t be happy with Dean knowing that she actually did something nice for him. God knows he will hold it against her.      “Jamie and I were just talking. Yeah, we hung out a couple of times, but I don’t feel anything for her. Hey…” He takes her hand, squeezing it softly. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m serious about us before you start believing me, huh?”

     He watches her take a breath, contemplating on what to say and on what to feel. Sure, a part of him gets it that she’s not a fan of the women who throw themselves at him. He didn’t like it one bit when Benny took an interest in her either, shutting that down immediately. Still, it hurts, because deep down he knows she assumes he will fall out of line.      “I believe you, it’s just that…” She exhales, shaking her head while she doubts herself more by the second. “I don’t believe the girls who have their eye on you have only good intentions.”      “You don’t have to worry about Jamie. She’s cool. And considering other flings and what not; it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what they want from me, because I know what I want for myself, and she’s sittin’ right beside me,” he tries to assure her, slipping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. “You’re the only one I have eyes for, Yankee.”

     She looks up from under her lashes, his soft voice slowly beginning to ease her anxious mind. Dean casting those negative thoughts away only does one thing, though; it makes room for a different kind of self loathing.      “God, I’m such a bitch…” she says softly, rubbing her face with her free hand.      “No, you’re not. Don’t say that,” he dismisses, not wanting her to be so hard on herself. “But I need you to trust me.”

     Y/N eyes dart up to his, stunned, realizing that her behavior might have hurt him more than he’s letting on. He avoids her eyes, trying to mask the harm her actions did, but even in the dim light she can detect the damage. Of course she trusts him. She trusts him and Jo more than anyone on the ranch, yet it came across like she didn’t. Damn it, she could kick herself in the head right now. Jealousy isn’t a good look on her, neither is self-consciousness, but sometimes she can’t help but to feel intimidated and overwhelmed. He needs to know that it’s not his fault, though.      “Dean, I do trust you,” she promises, lacing her fingers with his, hoping to sooth him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t.”      He turns to look at her, allowing his thumb to rub over the smooth skin on the back of her hand. Despite her efforts, he can’t quite shake the feeling, but she doesn’t have to know that this bothers him more than it should. And so the corner of his mouth pulls up in a small smile as he looks deep into her eyes, and kisses her softly.

     The intimate connection brings more peace than they both expect. They have that effect on each other, that instant calm washing over with a small touch or a sweet kiss. It’s during moments like these that the insecurities lose their proof, the sources that are the patronizing and condescending voices in their heads suddenly unreliable.

     After a few peaceful seconds which silence his troubled mind, Dean moves his lips from hers, glad to see that the kiss worked the same wonders for Y/N. Her warm eyes look up at him when she leans into his chest.      “So we’re okay?” she checks, needing that confirmation.      “We’re okay,” he promises, leaving a kiss on her hair.

     The music changes, the lead singer persuading the attending guests to move to the dancefloor. As people leave their seats and gather, Jo emerges again and grabs her beer from the barrel table, carefully testing the water before she approaches the couple.      “Is the coast clear? I come in peace.” She holds up her hand innocently.      “Everything’s good,” Dean states, not just aiming at the bond between him and his cousin.      “In that case, can I steal your girlfriend?” Jo asks. “This is such a good song and I for one wanna dance!”

     Y/N’s face lights up, fueled by the blonde cowgirl’s contagious smirk. Before she slides out of the booth, though, she shares a look with Dean.      “Go, seriously. Have some fun,” he encourages.      “You’re not coming?” she wonders.      Dean scoffs. “Hell no!”      “Oh, come on!” Y/N tries again.      “It’s no use, Sis. Dean doesn’t dance. Not good for his John Wayne reputation,” Jo nags, taking her best friend’s hand to pull her to her feet.      “Wranglers don’t dance. They ride,” Dean defends, aggrieved.      “Alright, tough guy. You go stir in your own juices while you miss out on all the fun.” His cousin twirls around, dragging Y/N with her before she can change her mind.

     The most horrible and yet catchy country song ever made sounds from the amplifiers, ‘Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy’ covered by the band that is rocking it out on stage. A fiddler clad in a charming saloon dress like the women used to wear in the old West has joined them, adding spice with the crisp sound of her instrument.      Trying to get her best friend out of her funk, Jo pulls Y/N in the lines that have formed, without missing a beat getting into the choreographed series of steps that every cowgirl knows by heart. Laughing, Y/N joins her, getting the hang of the dance quickly.

     Dean has stood up and joined Jody, Donna and Benny at the barrel table, nursing his drink as he watches his Yankee dance it out. He lets the tension flow out of his chest with a deep breath, the ache melting away with the sight of her. The colored lights flick over her features in the same rhythm of the music, her hat hanging between her shoulder blades by the stampede string. Forgetting the troubles for a moment, she copies Jo’s motion, who pretends to rope a lasso above her head as she makes a circle, while shouting out the words back to the lead singer when he points his microphone to the dancing crowd. It makes Dean chuckle.

     “Well, that seems too jolly to miss out on,” Benny decides, holding out his elbow for Jody to hook her arm through. “Can I have this dance, darlin’?”      “Benny Lafitte, always the charmer,” the woman with pixie hair comments, but takes his offer, leaving just Donna and Dean.      They watch their friends, both with a pleased smile on their lips. It’s quiet for a while between old companions as they take in the carefree portrayal.      It’s the head wrangler of the Gold Canyon Ranch who eventually breaks the silence. “Thanks for the save.”      “What save?” Donna returns, pretending to be oblivious.

     He can see by her mischievous smirk that she’s well aware what he’s talking about; her bid on the Pinto at the auction. Donna never intended to buy the two year old stallion. She and Jody spent fifteen grand only an hour prior to the sale, and especially during current times, Dean can’t picture the girls spending another 7500 dollars on a second horse. He knew the moment Donna raised that sign; she was doing them a favor and drove up the price.      Dean throws her a knowing look, his eyebrow perked, triggering Donna to drop the act.      “That Pinto is a hell of a good horse. Would’ve been a good buy,” she grins. “If only I had done the final bid.”      Grinning, he takes a swig of his beer. He appreciates the help, knowing that the two female ranch owners will not spill the financial secret to anyone else in their circle. It’s safe with them, and he considers himself lucky to have friends like that. Everyone needs a hand sometimes, and he’s more than glad that Donna and Jody offered theirs in time of need.

     “Anyhoo, I’m gonna join the girls for a dance off. You should join us for a change. I’ll bet your belle would love it,” the broad-smiling woman suggests.      “She’s having plenty of fun without me,” he sniggers, watching her belt out the lyrics to the song with Jo.      “Okeydokes. But you’re missin’ out, handsome.” Donna winks at him, heading to the dancefloor with a spring in her step.

     Dean watches the cheery woman from Minnesota go, but his focus soon darts past her, immediately captured by the sight of Y/N. Damn, they could shut off the power and she would still light up the room. He can’t keep his eyes off her, the familiar swell of his heart once again taking up so much space that it’s hard to breathe. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, not anymore. It used to terrify him, feeling something so strong for a woman he’s known for such a short amount of time. But now when he feels it, it just strengthens his fondness and devotion for the girl who he wishes he had met years ago. Maybe he could have saved her the heartache that has her self-conscious about her place with Dean. Maybe his track record wouldn’t be so long that she would question him. He’s willing to do anything to make up for that time, though.

     As Jo and Y/N dance in circles around each other, clapping their hands and laughing, her gaze meets Dean’s. She’s caught off guard by the adoration in his eyes, his smile so warm and affectionate, that she slows her step. The good-looking cowboy she gets to call hers just stands there by himself, adding action to his words. He’s watching her as if she’s the only girl at the party, like she’s the only girl in the world.

     Y/N breaks away from her friends and steps towards him, swaying her hips a little more than she usually does. She shook the concern that weighed heavy on her earlier and got her footing back. A cheeky smile plays on her lips and her eyes sparkle, telling Dean instantly she’s up to no good.      When she reaches her boyfriend, she takes his forearm between both hands and pulls at it. “Come dance.”      “I don’t dance, Yankee,” he refuses, not budging.      The music changes to a new song, triggering cheers to rise from the small crowd. The new rhythm has her eyes go wide, then pleading.      “Oh, come on. This is a good song to move to!” Y/N begs, using all her strength to shift his tall form.

     He stands his ground, surprised at her physical strength, but the stand off is as much for his own sake as for hers. If he lets her go, she’s gonna land flat on her ass, but Dean spares her the embarrassment. The cowboy sighs, not that fond of being at the center of attention anyway, not to mention on the dance floor in this big tent. But how the hell is he going to say ‘no’ to her?      “One song,” he complies, strict on the conditions.      She jumps into the air excitedly and the delight in her eyes is already worth it. He adjusts his grip and laces his finger through hers, walking towards the dancing group of people, their friends amongst him.      Jo’s jaw drops to the floor when she notices Dean on her tail. “How the hell did you manage to drag his sorry ass over here?”      She wiggles her eyebrows. “I can be quite persuasive.”

     Her cowboy catches her by surprise when he tightens his hold on her hand, raising it and spinning her. When she comes full circle he pulls her in again, slipping his arm under hers and smoothly transitions into a two step. Completely flabbergasted, she grabs his shoulder and stares up at him with big eyes. Whoa, where the heck did that come from?      “I thought you couldn’t dance!” she giggles, while he leads her across the dancefloor, not missing a step.      “Never said that,” he smirks. “I just said I don’t dance.”      “Well, you’re dancing now,” Y/N returns, delighted.      He chuckles at that, looking deep into her eyes. “Only because the most beautiful girl at the party asked me.”

     They nail the routine, even though they’ve never teamed up on the dancefloor before. It’s not a complicated choreography, a simple one-two mixed with some country swing, but apparently it looks impressive enough to earn a ‘yee-haw!’ from Benny.      Y/N glances aside when the others rally them on, clapping in the rhythm of the song from the sideline, making room for the couple. Jo gives her two thumbs up, clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events. She can’t stop her smile reaching from ear to ear when Dean twirls again, not missing the same expression on his face.

     The fiddle and guitar work together in harmony, throwing in a variation during the bridge of the song. Having her a little closer than at arms length, his right hand on her higher back, his left hand holding hers out to the side, they continue to move from one end of the open space to the other swiftly. The cowboy is enjoying himself, even though he was being a grump about dancing earlier. How can he not, now that he’s a witness of the pure joy his girl is radiating?

     The drummer finishes the song with a ruffle and the music dies down, the band receiving applause from the attending party-goers. Beaming, Y/N looks into Dean’s emerald green eyes, which sparkle every time the spotlight hits them. Dean was right; she’s having a blast, just like he predicted.

     Not ready to admit that he doesn’t really want to stop dancing with Y/N, he glances at the musicians, waiting for the next song. He narrows his eyes confused when he spots Donna, who got the attention of the lead singer. The young man has crouched down at the edge of the stage, Donna whispering something in his ear. Dean can see him nod in agreement before he rights himself and grabs the mic stand.      “Alright, y’all. I got a special request for a ballad just now. We’re gonna perform an original, so take your lady to the floor. Time to take things a lil’ slower.”

     He puts away his electric guitar and picks up the acoustic one, plugging it in. A romantic tune coming from the speakers when he strums the strings. Questioning, Y/N glances up at her boyfriend, almost sheepishly. Dean agreed to one song, which had a totally different vibe to the music that was sounding right now. The wrangler has been nothing but wonderful and sweet with her, but she doesn’t expect him to openly show how much he cares about her, especially with Bobby still present in the tent.

     But against the odds, Dean moves his extended hand that was still holding hers closer to his chest, letting it rest there. Gentle fingertips press into her skin as they sink to the small of her back, encouraging her to come close. He looks at her, the playfulness dying down and replaced with something deeper, something even more profound.

     I can’t count the times I almost said what’s on my mind, but I didn’t.      Just the other day, I wrote down all the things I’d say, but I couldn’t.      Baby, I know that you’ve been wondering.      So here goes nothing.

     Comfortable in his arms, Y/N lays her head against his chest, the soft thump of his heart beat and the slow swaying motion calming every nerve that was ever there. She couldn’t feel safer, more sheltered than in this very moment. Right now, she’s the only girl in the world. She couldn’t care less that she’s in the limelight, that everyone is a witness of the bond between them that’s strengthening each day. In fact, she feels proud. Dean stepped on the dance floor, just for her. He is showing a side of him not many are familiar with, just for her. If this doesn’t prove that he’s her man, and no one else's, nothing will.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     Careful not to stand on her feet and ruin the moment, Dean continues to slowly sway her from side to side. Softly pressing his cheek against her hair, he shuts his eyes for a second, storing the memory amongst the other precious recollections. God, this feels beyond amazing.

     When he opens his eyes again, his gaze travels over the faces watching the pairs in front of the stage. Tensing slightly, he notices Bobby, who watches the two slow-dancing. His uncle shoots back a judgemental glare, seemingly not too pleased with the fact that there’s more going on between the supervisor and the intern than he originally thought. The head wrangler looks back guilty, grimacing awkwardly.

     “What is it?” Y/N wonders, apparently feeling him stiffening.      “I think we’ve been made,” Dean whispers in her ear, dipping down his head slightly.      “Bobby?” she assumes, concerned. “What should we… Should we stop?”      But Dean shakes his head, not caring about the ranch owner at this point. He’ll get over it, and if there was ever a right time to tell the old man, today, after the wins they so desperately needed, would be the day.      “Keep dancing,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against her hair.        Y/N eases, leaning into him again, the space between the two decreased to the minimum. A breath slips from her lips, the air warm against his chest, even through his shirt. He can smell her shampoo lingering in her locks, mixed with her scent that’s so unmistakably hers. Slowly but surely, everything about her is becoming familiar, yet there’s not a single aspect of the woman before him that he takes for granted.

     The way you look tonight, that second glass of wine. That did it.      There was somethin ‘bout that kiss. Girl you did me in.      Got me thinking. I’m thinking.      One of the things that I’ve been feeling, it’s time you hear ‘em.

     Listening to the words, feeling the music reach his soul, he can’t help but to evaluate the thoughts that cross his mind and the emotions that leave him vulnerable. He knows he’s beyond falling in love at this point, but even if he could, he would never want to go back. Y/N is what he never knew he needed, yet it stuns him when that three word sentence settles on the tip of his tongue. He can’t tell her, though. Not yet. The way he’s holding her right now, how he softly leans into her, is the closest he can get to actually saying it out loud. God, he hopes she knows. Dean silently promises that one day he will tell her. One day.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     The cowboy pulls back slightly, dipping his chin to establish eye contact again. The kindest smile awaits him, her beautiful orbs glazed over with emotion. She’s not sad, though, quite the opposite. She’s moved. No one has ever made her feel this whole. This is the true definition of happiness, being in his arms, him looking at her like he’s doing so now. Their noses brush when Dean leans in, then he moves his mouth to hers and captures her lips with his. The kiss is soft and slow, just like the music, just like the dance. But of all the intimate moments they shared so far, this has to be the greatest one yet. The thought swirled through her head before, but in this very moment, she is sure: she loves Dean. More than she ever thought she was capable of.

     You’ve got all of me.      I belong to you.      Yeah, you’re my everything.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     From a distance, the company of four watches the couple. The dim light coming from the strings of lightbulbs above the dancefloor falls over them like a soft blanket, the spots by the stage illuminating their silhouettes. The vision before them is the definition of romance, one that silences the normally so chatty personalities on the sideline.

     Jody and Donna sigh collectively, swooning at the sight.      “I can’t...” The blonde ranch owner swoons. “I can’t with these two.”      “They are so good together,” Jody agrees, endeared.      Jo nods, proud of her friend, and secretly also of her cousin. “Gotta say, never thought I’d see it happen. If he can settle down, there’s still hope for all of us.”      “You guys can thank me with a beer,” Benny sniggers, his eyes not leaving the pair either.

     His comment earns a look from the three women in his presence. The farrier is about to move a beer bottle to his mouth, but pauses the action when he feels their eyes burning in the side of his head, demanding an explanation.      “Who do you think talked sense into the bastard and told him to get his act together, huh?” he brags, taking a sip of his drink.      “Who do you think told him to never let go of that girl and that he better put a ring on her finger?” Jody says, earning impressed nods.      “Who do you think requested this song?” Donna bounces back victoriously.      “Well then,” Jo holds out her bottle, waiting for the others to join her in a toast. “To the matchmakers!”

     Jody is the last one to raise her wine, her eyes not leaving the sight before them. “To love,” she adds.      The four agree to that, clinking their glasses together. After all, it’s what life is all about. Friends, family and that one person you’re going to share the rest of your life with.      They repeat her wise words with abandon. “To love!”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-one here

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Heart Shaped Bed

Mob Boss! Mikey x fem reader

Summery: It’s Halloween and you’re just looking for some fun of the dangerous variety. Enter: Michelangelo. A psychotic mob boss from hell who is in love with your best friend. Can you win him over and at what cost?

Warnings: NSFW, violence, alcohol mentions, car accident

((A/N: I have trouble writing crazy character despite being labelled as crazy myself, Mikey is tricky to write for in this AU so just bear with me))

October 31st, the night where all the ghouls and ghosts come out to play and superstition is at it’s highest since it’s rumoured that the veil between our world and the next is at it’s thinnest. You pull your skirt down your leg a little and take another sip of your free beer, one of the only perks of having a best friend who works at a bar. Paddy’s is always packed at this time of year, everyone is in costumes and drunk out of their minds; you are no different. You’re dressed as a sexy school girl because originality was never your forte and you wanted to show off your boobs a little, so what? You have the outfit down, complete even with bows on the thigh high socks and you look damn good.

It’s too loud to have a decent conversation with “Monster mash” blaring over the small speakers on the bar so you sit and give Sophie (Peach, as you know her) a forlorn look as if to say “more beer, please” and she complies. Peach looks radiant as she pulls the tap to refill your glass. Her light peach hair trailing down over her shoulders and her uniform or black slacks and a white t shirt with dark green hem hugging all of her curves. She was difficult to compete with but she was still so modest and complimentary of you it was hard to hold it against her. You knew half the regulars only came her to watch her, it didn’t stop you going after them though.

Looking around the room you watch and drunk idiots spill their drinks and desperately try to find someone to take home despite looking a mess, covered in fake blood or with vampire fangs. It was really something to watch. A guy in a ladybug costume fawns over a women dressed as Moticia Adams only to get the cold shoulder. You chuckle to yourself. Sat in the far corner of the room, at their usual table, sat the Turtle boys, a notorious gang in upside New York. They weren’t in costume, too good for it you assumed, and they didn’t look happy. You were aware, through Peach, that they made unsavoury deals in the back office of the bar and maybe tonight something went awry.

“Hey, babes!” you call over to Peach who is passing the incredible hulk a bud light “What happened over there?” you say gesturing subtly to the four well suited turtles.

“Not sure, I heard some yelling from the back room and then they came out. Something to do with that serial killer I think” She replies.

So a serial killing is hurting business. Huh. That explains their looking like someone died, someone has... You couldn’t keep your eyes from flitting towards them, sitting there so stoic and commanding while nursing a few now almost gone whiskys.

“Hey” you call over again. Peach turns and gives you a smile to let you know she’s listening “Isn’t that one the guy who-”

“- who choked out Steve for grabbing my ass? Yeah, that’s the one” she finishes your sentence for you.

You smile to yourself, Steve definitely deserved it. Pervert. You knew the turtle’s name but, like all residents of the bar, were reluctant to use it lest they hear you. But, tonight was a night to be brave and take chances, and you’d always wanted to bed one of them. Think of the status that gives you, sleeping with one of the most violent, deplorable men in the state. You know Mikey has a thing for Peach, on other nights his eyes don’t leave her, not that she notices; a good girl like her doesn’t have time for those “downworlders” as she calls them.

“Barkeep! I’ll take 4 martinis if you don’t mind. It’s time to take my shot” you announce to Peach who gives you a weary smile as she makes your drinks and places them on a tray in front of you.

You adjust your green and navy blue pleated skirt, hiking it further up so that the bottom of your ass cheeks would be on view and head over to the turtles, tray in hand.

You set down the drinks in front of them and say, with a smile:

“We have a special offer on tonight, boys. Buy four drinks and get me for free”

They stare at you completely unamused, but their looks weren’t going to discourage you now.

“Oh come on” you begin “That line would have killed two tables over”

Michelangelo takes a finger and runs it around the rim of his glass a few times before tipping it over, the contents of the glass spilling all over the table and onto your skirt. You jump back.

“Hey, what the fuck!” you cry out

“Act like a slut, get treated like a slut” he states.

With your tail between your legs, you huff and walk away. They didn’t have to be such assholes about it, and it kind of stung that you basically offered up your pussy on a plate and they sneered at you.

Back at the bar Peach raises her eyebrows as you take a few napkins and try and dry off your skirt.

“So, how’d it go?” she inquires

“About as well as you can expect from four mutant, snobby, rich dickheads”you reply. Peach leans over the bar and gives you a small hug and kiss on the cheek as her condolences.

Suddenly you feel eyes on you and turn around to see Michelangelo staring at you, mouth slightly agape and a strange look in his eyes. You would have called it regret, if you thought he was capable of feeling that. You ignore it and turn back to your drink.

You sense a presence behind you and turn once more to find him standing next to you looking awfully sheepish.

“Look” he begins “I’m...I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know you were a friend of- is there some way I can make it up to you? Is what I’m trying to say”

“Do you have a fresh size 3 shirt in that booth with you?” your snarky side is coming out

He laughs it off 

“No, but can I buy you a drink or” He looks you up and down “Interest you in any extra curricular activities?” His smile is so bright and charming, you feel yourself almost forgiving him for what had just occurred. And he was devilishly good looking, which helped a lot.

You trace your fingers lightly up his arm until they reach his shoulder.

“You wanna get out of here?”

He smirks, looks down and then back up at you

“Sure”

_____

Outside of the bar is freezing, especially in the tiny outfit you’re wearing and you shiver in the cold October air. Mikey shrugs off his blazer and puts it over your shoulders but you get the impression he’s doing this out of obligation rather than affection. It’s something about his movements, they feel more...Awkward and unsteady than fluid and confident. You know this isn’t his first time taking a girl home from Paddy’s, so you don’t fully understand what his deal it.

You arrive at his car, and despite knowing nothing about vehicles you can recognise that he drives a black Bentley and it must have cost him a fortune, not that he didn’t have the money. He could buy it 100 times over and still have more cash than half the people in New York.

He opens the passenger side door for you and you get in.

“So, my place or yours?” you ask

“Motel” he says plainly.

Curiouser and curiouser... You try and make a list of everything you know about him. He won’t take you home, he’s hot then cold and he has a thing for Peach. It clicks in your head. He’s using you to get closer to her. You almost smile, this was such a typical thing to happen to you, of course he only wants you for your relationship to her. It doesn’t matter either way, you’ll warm him up for her.

He drives fast and it’s not long before your on a highway and definitely breaking the speed limit.

You had been making casual conversation, the drive was always the worst part of a hook up, now you have to actually talk to them instead of make out. 

“I feel like we should have taken an uber” you say

He doesn’t turn to look at you or speak

“Because that way I could be touching you right now” You place a hand on his thigh and he still gives you no response. “Anndd you’re not listening. Great.”

He takes his eyes off the road and turns to you

“You’re the oldest in your family, you work as a manager in a clothing store but can’t fucking stand it there and you feel like we should have gotten an uber so you could be touching me right now. Did I get that right?”

You stare back at him slightly aghast and he continues to watch you. Suddenly you realise he hasn’t looked at the road this entire time and the car in front of you is slowing down

“Watch out!” you scream and the car swerves before he gains control again and brakes, the car rocking side to side a little from the sudden movements. You’re breathless and you turn to look at Mikey who simply bursts out laughing while he continues to drive, his eyes wide as full moons. He’s sick you think to yourself. Lucky you like that in a man, and there’s nothing like a near death experience to get the blood pumping.

You continue the car ride for a while in silence apart from the odd laugh from him who still seems amused that you nearly crashed.

He pulls off the side of the road into some shitty looking motel. A huge florescent sign that reads “Blue Moon Motel” sparks a little which doesn’t offer you any comfort. This place was a dump, but if it had a bed it would do.

________

Inside the room you shake off the blazer he gave you onto the chair in the corner of the room, by the end of the bed. The interior was cute, all shades of blue and white and the bed sheets has little lace style trimmings.which was delicate and sweet.

You fling yourself onto the bed, kicking off your shoes and pull out your phone, you decide you need music for this momentous occasion. You settle on “Heart Shaped Bed” by Nicole Dollanganger and press play. It’s creepy enough to be fitting for Halloween but slow enough to be romantic. The opening notes of the piano begin to stream from your phone which you place on the nightstand.

*lay me down, on a heart shaped bed Pretend it’s out wedding, pretend we just met*

“So” you spread your legs a little and look at Mikey “How do you want me?”

He gives you a wicked smile and then he’s upon you, biting and sucking at the delicate flesh of your neck with vigour. Clearly he couldn’t wait any longer you thought to yourself.

*Pretend we're in one of those movies They rent in the back of every seedy place We pass on the interstate*

You angle your head to kiss his mouth but he pulls away, making it clear that this is not a romantic occasion, this is just fucking and he doesn’t want you in that way. It doesn’t bother you, it just heightens the whole “big bad mob boss” fantasy although you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little disappointed by it.

he tears your blouse open revealing your chest and begins his work sucking and biting at your nipples and the tender skin of your breasts, you look down and can already see pinky purple bruises forming, a treasure map of where his mouth had been.

You moan a little at his touch but he continues his work down your stomach and towards your most sensitive area. Lifting up your skirt he places a kiss on you clothes mound before peeling off your underwear. You raise your hips slightly to help his get them off with ease and then he returns back down, licking between your folds until his tongue passes over your clit and causes you to moan hard.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

“You want this?” he says from between your thighs, you can feel his hot breath against your skin, a sensation that is more than pleasant. 

“Yes, god yes” you squirm

“No.You wanna act like a slut, you get fucked like a slut” he returns.

Before you have time to respond her grabs you by the ankle and flips you over onto your stomach before pulling your hips up so that you���re on your knees with your shoulders and face still down on the bed. You hear him undo his flies and think for a moment as he lines up with your entrance

“wait, don’t we need protectio-” before you can finish he’s inside you and thrusting hard and deep, he gives you no time to adjust to his size and he is very sizeable... You cry out in the mixture of pain and pleasure that he’s giving you. As well as the music, the room fills with the obscene sounds of his flesh pounding against yours and the wet noises your pussy makes as he pushes in and out of you.

“you think sluts use protection?” he mocks

He feels to good for you to want him to pull out now, so you go with it, but raise yourself onto your elbows. His hands are on your hips but he trails one down your back to grab at your ponytail and pull your head back.

*So get the room with the heart shaped bed Make something gross feel romantic*

Your walls tighten around him and that elicits a grunt from him as he begins to pound harder into you, smacking your ass hard as he does. He pulls out and flips you over back onto your back and holds your legs up to your chin, his strong arm keeps them in place as he realigns himself with your entrance and pushes back in. This new position allows him to get deeper which you think is what he was hoping for.

*Make me so no one will ever want me again*

Now he has a full view of your face, eyes squeezed closed and face contorted in pleasure

“Open your eyes” he demands “Look at me when I’m fucking you”

He’s still fully clothed which you’re a little unhappy about, so you open your eyes and begin to undo his shirt. Your fingers tremble slightly partially from the force at which he’s fucking you, partially do to the alcohol you had that night.

*'Cause when I sleep with faith, I only Find a corpse in my arms on awakening*

You slide his shirt over his shoulders and throw it across the room, raising your head a little you bite into his now exposed shoulder to stifle your moans. You don’t understand how he can bring you so close to the brink this soon, but his pace is unyielding and unwavering. He fucks you like he’s punishing you.

He grabs you by the chin and squeezes 

“Open your mouth!”

you do as you’re told and he purses his lips, pauses and then spits down your throat, pushing at your chin to close your mouth and encouraging you to swallow. He’s disgusting but being treated this way only turns you on more, much to your shame, you can feel your cheeks flush with blood as he smiles down at you one he hears that familiar *gulp* sound.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

He pulls out once more and gets of the bed which confuses you for a second, until he pulls you up by the hair and leads you to the wall. He spins you around and so you’re facing it and pushes your shoulders forwards and pulls your hips back so he has easier access to your pussy. He plunges his cock back inside of you and you rest your face against the wall as you take him in all the way. You think you might start seeing stars if he continues like this. Never mind him being a probable killer, they should lock him up for murdering your pussy.

One of his hands rakes through your hair and pulls back your head while the other reaches around to your face and pinches your nose shut while covering your mouth. You can’t breath at all and begin to panic slightly but also whine into his hand because of how good he feels inside you.

you feel that tightness in the pit of your stomach and know that you’re close, you try and moan into his hand, shaking your head a little from side to side to try and get him off your face but it’t to no avail. So you use your hands but he simply lets go of your hair and pins your arms behind your back. You still can’t breath and now you’re so close to cumming and black dots and filtering in and out of your vision, you think you might be close to passing out.

Finally that knot in your stomach releases and your orgasm washing over you, you practically scream into his hand before he lets go and you fall to the floor, gasping for air.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

He hasn’t cum yet so he stands over you, stroking his dick, smirking at what he did to you. If it weren’t for the afterglow of your orgasm, you’d be furious and give him a peace of your mind but you were still desperately trying to catch your breath.

Mikey throws his head back before cumming on you, some of the milky fluid getting in your hair and you lift your hand up to shield your face from it. Was this to insult you? Or was it still part of the whole ‘you’re a slut’ role play thing because you couldn’t tell anymore.

He tucks himself back into his finely tailored trousers and walks across the room to put on his shirt and gather his blazer from the chair you threw it on earlier. He pulls a small rectangular card out of his pocket and throws it on the nightstand next to your phone which started playing the next song a while ago.

“You can spend the night here, if you want. Anything you get from the minibar will be charged to my card so don’t worry about it” He looks down at you, still on the floor, bright red in the face and still breathing rather heavily “G’night, sweetheart” he winks at you before heading to the door and closing it behind him.

You pull yourself up to your feet and head over to your phone, opening it and typing out a message to Peach.

[Hey girly, you won’t believe the night I just fucking had] the text reads.

You flop down on the bed and await her response. A shower could wait for 5 minutes while she replies.

Fin

[leam1983]

It’s the end of the work week and, well...

I’m having thoughts on labor culture.

My father was born in 1958. He lived as the son of an absent father of five children who had no ability to truthfully express his love and care, and who instead chose to bury himself in work as a means to display his commitment. My paternal grandfather made and sold mattressees and died quite young of a cancer strain that today would’ve seemed benign. He was described as a hard worker, either up to his neck in his business or wanting just a scant few hours per day to himself. It made an aloof lover out of him and a distant father - who still loved his wife and children to bits but who felt emotionally castrated in a sense, as were men of the era.

The family consensus is that his work killed him.

My father is now 65 and survived a bout of Non-Hodgkinian Lymphoma. The oncologist and anyone with half a brain agreed that stress was the culprit. Early on, Dad had the family as an excuse for his tendency to overwork. He had to provide for us, after all, and garnish my mother’s meagre savings. All she has is her government-issued pension plan, while my father does have his own pension as a retiree of the City of Montreal’s Real-Estate Appraisal service. Considering, he felt obligated to pull a heavier load to bring in more, so they’d have better investment opportunities. Later on, he kept working out of a sense of fealty and attachment to his division, breaking out of retirement during the pandemic to join the work-from-home team. He wanted to help techs and city officials find ways to bring more of the traditionally snail-mail-based parts of the system online so the city’s Land Management service wouldn’t be paralyzed by COVID-19. What was supposed to be a single month turned into four, which turned into twelve.

By the end, they were begging him to stay on the team and to pull longer hours. We’re talking twenty hours per day, in some particularly grueling stretches. That means being logged in by breakfast and scarfing bagels down with Urban Design techs on Zoom instead of your own family, or having supper with your boss because she needs a play-by-play of the situation to stave off her executive anxiety.

Long story short, I didn’t see Dad much during the first wave. His reasoning was that he’d eventually stop, pool all this cash, and chuck it into his and Mom’s Registered Retirement Savings Account - with maybe an extra two thou or so in case the country reopened enough for their postponed trip to Cuba to take place.

Guess what? His zona flared up and he ended up with odd, shingly bumps along his scalp which to this day the local dermatologist grimaces at and tentatively has us dab with cortisone cream.

Mom, though? She’s a retired and registered nurse with a self-negating streak and a chronic propensity to undervalue her own physical ailments. Someone who quite literally understands the pain of busted hips on a clinical level because she was trained in Gerontology - and also someone who refuses to schedule an appointment with her GP and who inexplicably self-medicates with white wine.

As for me, I’m a 37 year-old man with a paycheck I consider massive with its meagre six bucks above the minimum-wage threshold - someone who chose to shack in with his folks until the current crisis ends and who therefore has a history of a single, willingly terminated apartment lease that originally began in the Planned Housing market. The apartment I want is basically a Barbie doll house for adults, a gleaming fantasy I’ll never have enough capital to touch unless I feel like trying my hand with criminal applications of my skills. The apartment I can get right now is a shithole, and I have the audacity to think I deserve a shithole that at least wasn’t someone’s former cockroach den.

Now here’s the kicker: I value my sanity and my health. I know my mental stamina levels and I know from experience that after working seven-point-five hours per day with the occasionally shorter Friday, I’ve found my limit. I could invest more if I worked more, yes, and I’m already in a better position than my parents, retirement-wise. I’ll never be rich, but I’m already set to be comfortable, provided I don’t spend my golden years trying to make it as an unsponsored TechTuber or anything else that’s equally ludicrous.

Where that’s a problem is in the toxicity this is generating. See, I have the gall to slide my daily schedule later so I can start at an hour that fits my biological clock and ends at an hour where I’m at my most creative. That means the folks saw me spending my pandemic mornings on Animal Crossing while Dad was trying to wrangle Excel spreadsheets for non-tech-savvy fellow Boomers while preventing the dog from eating his meeting notes. That means they guzzled vinho verde like it was Kool-Aid after seven while I made sure to find more concrete means to distance myself from work - ideally ones that didn’t involve functional alcoholism.

Naturally, what was bound to happen, happened: Dad soon spent his evenings calling me shiftless or “unwilling to commit”, while I was stuck watching him miss all the cues his stressed-out body were sending him. We already had Trump’s last desperate months and a global plague to handle, I really didn’t want my work to turn into more of a nuisance than it already is. I already love the people I work for and hate what I do (repeating the family cycle, it seems), but I’ve at least decided to give myself ample Me time every single day. 

I’ve paired that with smaller, if consistent portfolio investments, along with a few new habits I wanted to get into to stay saner. Dad pulls crosswords or plays competitive chess in the wee hours, while I usually lay down to meditate around midnight and fall asleep by 1 AM at the latest. I’m half-expecting my father to pull a Tyler Durden and to sneer at me, at some point. “Self-care is masturbation,” he’d probably say.

Looking at classifieds for rentals, it’s obvious that the entire system is predicated on abuse. Work yourself down to the therapist’s office, right down to the fucking bone, and you just might earn a half-decent retirement because nobody’s taught you to invest incrementally. Nope, Society seems to say, you’re supposed to buy, buy and buy some more, until you realize you have ten years left to start from scratch!

I remember Dad’s face on my eighteenth birthday. “Why would you want a Disability Care Savings Account, Brain? You just turned into a legal adult by Canadian standards - you’re in no rush, right?”

I told him the real gift I wanted for my birthday, that day, was a ride to the family’s Financial Investments counsel. I pulled up the PDFs I’d printed out and filled and brought them over. From then on, if I dropped a penny in my nest-egg, Ottawa would drop another one. If my share grew, so did the government’s. In the twenty-odd years since, it’s expanded exponentially.

Dad thought I’d done this to have a big cushion by the time I’d retire. Mom thought I’d done this in case my disability worsened and I started requiring equipment or physical assistance. Honestly, my dumb, if slightly prescient eighteen year-old self figured I’d rather spend my time reading or playing video games than working. I knew I’d need something to help cushion my admittedly low career-related ambitions. I might throw several thousands at a new computer every seven to eight years, but that’s because I’ve saved them up for just as long, little by little. I have no vices beyond what sillicon offers and what you’d find in the pages of a book and don’t exactly need a big ‘ol, stonkin’ humidor stuffed with conoisseur stogies.

I have a shoebox with a poked-out Ziploc bag and a sponge, with a handful of joints and a few Santa Anas I got off of a buyer’s pool from work. Five of us occasional chair-bar goons pooled cash together on Cigar Chief and cushioned prices with a single, shared and massive order. I’m nowhere near rich, but assuming the housing market can catch its breath eventually, I’ll be able to live modestly - with one or two markers of occasional luxury I’ll have chosen.

I have a shittier job than my father has had and I’ve chosen to be happier than him. It’s just sad that the usual response elevates overwork as the supposedly one, true way to leave a mark in society.

No, Dad. I don’t want to die while my own cells eat me alive, I want to die blazed out of my fucking mind, happy because I’ll have had time to enjoy my friends’ company and to finally make some sense out of Kerouac’s Subterraneans or to figure out what the fuck is going on in Joyce’s Illiad. I’ll die crusty as shit and fulfilled as a Pop Culture jockey, because I’ll have either finished Persona 5: Golden in my lifetime or I’ll have watched the entirety of the MCU’s output before Disney finally manages to kill their golden goose.

I want to die decades from now, feeling like I at least owned my choices and didn’t spend my time tethered to someone else’s professional expectations of me.

[brickroseexchange]

How to Start an Event Venue in 5 Steps

1.Do your research

2.Find a location

3.Promote your venue

4.Price competitively

What business is more enjoyable than the gathering industry? The individuals who have opened a function space realize that it's an industry dependent on helping individuals make some great memories, making a perfect encounter, and keeping the stray pieces of the night out of the spotlight. It's hard yet remunerating work.

In case you're an extrovert—anxious to if it's not too much trouble anxious to meet new individuals, anxious to help make the bonds that frequently emerge from sharing great food, beverages, and vibe—and you're keen on utilizing that energy to begin a business, you've gone to the opportune spot. In this guide, we are demonstrating how to begin a function setting.

Regardless of whether you're generally keen on a function space for weddings, parties, or a show lobby for shows, there are sure parts of the business that stay steady.

Katie O'Reilly is the Senior Partner of Business Development at Kenmare Catering and Event Venue, which works the Germania Place area in the core of Chicago's Gold Coast. She says that her business was resulting from her adoration for individuals.

"I originated from a group of lawyers and I simply didn't have any desire to do that," O'Reilly says. "I have an energy for food and individuals that began right off the bat—that was my center. So my point of view when I escaped school was that I needed to toss gatherings and hold functions and meet individuals."

Before she struck out all alone—alongside her significant other—O'Reilly worked for the Art Institute of Chicago as the associate head of exceptional functions, where she was first presented to the way toward tossing parties, dealing with the cooking, and tweaking the historical center's different spaces. That is the place where she mastered all she'd require to prevail in the field.

"This isn't a simple industry," she says. "There's a great deal of grimy work, and you must have the option to do everything, whenever—at functions, things come up, and you must have the option to think and react quickly in light of the fact that you never need the gathering to be anything short of awesome."

With O'Reilly's assistance, we will make you stride by venture through how to begin a function scene. We should get to it.

Do Your Research

Prior to beginning a venture, it is significant you teach yourself on the difficulties and necessities should have been effective. The equivalent is genuine when attempting to decide how to begin a function scene. Examination the practicality of a function scene in your market.

Discover what the nearby necessities are, for example, a permit to sell alcohol. Comprehend the expenses related with dispatching a function space, and make a financial plan. Figure out who your objective market will be. Find out about your rivals. At that point, assembled this data into a strategy.

While doing this examination, consider contacting exchange associations, for example, the National Association for Catering and Events (NACE) or the Wedding International Professionals Organization (WIPA). These associations can furnish you with direction and assets as you make your approach.

Find a location

The subsequent stage in sorting out some way to begin a function scene is to make sure about a quality structure in a decent business area. This is really one of the main strides simultaneously. While you can control everything else about your space—how to redo it, what sort of functions you need to have, what food to cook—your structure and area will be an apparatus of your business.

"Area is gigantic: it generally has any kind of effect," says O'Reilly. "Here on the Gold Coast, there are individuals around us who love food and have the financial plan to manage the cost of it. The area is lovely, individuals like to visit, individuals can get a taxi out of here—it's even a square from the sea shore.

In the Event Venue that you have individuals appear from away, you need them to be in a local where they feel good, recognizable. While there's very a pattern towards that provincial setting these days, as far as we might be concerned, everybody loves what we have—mother loves it, father loves it, grandmother loves it."

O'Reilly found the Germania Place area when her better half wound up taking a shot at an arrangement for the spot, which the couple thought about immature and undersold. They chose to take their long stretches of involvement and abundance of contacts and utilize the setting to dispatch their own business.

"Since a portion of the desk work was at that point in progress for the scene, it just took several months to get all the agreements all together and shut," says O'Reilly. She noticed that this wasn't the commonplace experience: bargains for comparative spaces regularly take longer.

On the off chance that you need assistance buying your function space, you may investigate a business land advance.

Promote your venue

Other "costs" to factor in when attempting to sort out some way to begin a function setting relate less to buying certain things or recruiting a specific number of individuals and more to advancement.

The most ideal approach to advance your business is organizing and engaging with others in the business," says O'Reilly. "You need to continue expanding on yourself and indicating individuals what your identity is and what your aptitudes are—you can't sit in a dim space and anticipate that individuals should appear."

As far as we might be concerned, the subsequent stage is telling individuals about my culinary ability," she says. "I'm beginning an electronic character for myself—Katie O's Food Carnival—in light of the fact that my customers have been requesting it and you need to tune in to that."

Past systems administration face to face and exhibiting your ability on the web, there should likewise be some cash put into the real introduction of your place—tossing gatherings and functions that grandstand your capacities, and why the following large wedding or corporate function ought to be at your scene.

You need to get individuals to eat your item before they consent to pay for it," O'Reilly clarifies.

Always Keep the Food and Conversation Going

The exact opposite thing to remember while working a function setting is that you will probably ensure everybody has a decent encounter. Nonetheless, a decent encounter can fluctuate extraordinarily relying upon the demographic and the idea of the function.

What will be expected of your setting relies upon the functions—weddings are simpler to anticipate, however corporate functions can differ extraordinarily as far as the gave amusement, dignity, and even ensembles for visitors to fit a topic. In any case, Germania Place's menu is one that is extraordinarily broad and adaptable, yet aware of what bodes well.

We're brilliant customers and we know our fixings," says O'Reilly. "You need to watch the patterns and know about irregularity, costs, and where we would pay the extra for the customer to have that thing first class.

You would prefer not to serve a lot of purple cauliflower in January, yet in summer I can give you any shade of cauliflower you'd actually need."

Squandered food is additionally a major subject of discussion for the staff, which sporadically needs to make dishes when they're not sure how much will be burned-through.

We plan things that can spare and be repurposed later, similar to a braised meat that can be re-braised and transformed into an item for the following day," says O'Reilly. "However, this is your night to approach me for anything.

I consider it the "When Harry Met Sally" idea, since individuals are reluctant to be requesting and request what they need—however I am making for you."

[mwolf0epsilon]

Out of curiosity, what are your favorite companions out of all of the Fallout games, and why?

Fallout

The Original Dogmeat (After looking into it, it feels like this ornery dog had a lot more personality than the available human companions, enough so that he made a comeback in FO2.)

Fallout 2

Goris (A sentient and intelligent albino deathclaw scholar that wears a robe to hide his appearence from trigger happy assholes. What's not to like? Goris is an interesting character and I hope there will be another deathclaw companion in a future game!)

K-9 the Cyberdog (Cyberdogs are cool. Talking Cyberdogs with good moral compasses? Even better! Super pissed the NCR ended up destroying him to gather Intel on the Enclave. That's something I'd expect from the BoS instead, and it's left a bitter taste in my mouth. Rest in peace you poor pup.)

Fallout 3

Butch Deloria (He was an asshole and a bully during his and the Lone Wanderer's childhood, but you can't deny he isn't loyal to a fault. He's still a bit of an asshole with an unobtainable greaser teen dream, but honestly he's not that bad considering he was neglected as a child thanks to his mother's alcoholism. If you scratch his back he'll definitly scratch yours, even if he pretends he's not a goody-two-shoes like you. Plus he can give you a haircut, who wouldn't want a personal barber out in the Wastes?)

Charon (His situation is an uncomfortable moral conundrum since he's basically a brainwashed slave by anything but name. Oxhorn put it best in his video on Charon's situation, and I agree that the only good thing you can do for him is buying his contract and doing good out in the Capital Wasteland with him as your companion, as a form of atonement for any past shady/cruel actions his former employers have had him perform.)

Fawkes (A super mutant who may or may not have been a man named Shelton Delacroix, Fawkes is unfortunate in the sense that he was alienated by his fellow vault-tec security officers for having a conscience, and then alienated by his super mutant kin for being uniquely intelligent and kind. To add to these tragedies, Shelton was apparently married so Fawkes has a wife he can't recall who is either dead or a mindless super mutant herself.)

Dogmeat the Second (A loyal heterochromatic cattle dog who would fight to the death if just to avenge his fallen master. Dogmeat is a scruffy scavenger and definitly man's best friend. You have to wonder if he might be a descendant of the Original Dogmeat with just how strong his personality comes off. Some dogs in the wasteland are definitely smarter than others.)

Fallout: New Vegas

Arcade Ganoon (A gay mess of a doctor with social anxiety and a lot of personal demons related to his origins. Arcade is an intelligent and interesting character in the sense that he has a deep-seated desire to help everyone, but knows the consequences of one's ideals outgrowing the needs of others. He's grateful to the Enclave Remnants's loyalty to him and his mother, after his father passed away, and he definitly considers them his family. That in itself is an issue because the Enclave's sins will follow and haunt him for the rest of his life, even if he was just born into that life and not one of the people commiting atrocities.)

Craig Boone (His story is the typical wasteland hardened ex-soldier. He committed atrocities that left him mentally scarred and suffering from PTSD, lost his wife who was the only good thing in his life, his need to avenge her has left him dangling between cold-blooded killer and decent human being, and on top of that he's a bit of a cynical asshole. Still a pretty cool companion to have around, and honestly it feels nice to have him around doing some good for the Mojave wasteland instead of stewing in his depression and self-hatred. His sniping skills could help a lot of people with the Courier's encouragement.)

Lily Bowen (She's a super mutant elite spy soldier. She's also a sweet old granny with schizophrenia and a murderous imaginary friend. Lily is another tragic character who's story pulls at your heartstrings, and the three choices regarding her meds are another moral conundrum. Again I'd recommend Oxhorn's video on her story, since I wholly agree with his assessment on what choice is actually the best for her.)

Rex the Cyberdog (His background before he joined the Kings is shrouded in mystery, with the Legion's faded mark painted on his armour platting. Rex is a loyal pup with a hate for rats, hats and people who wear hats. His greatest ire is probably reserved for rats with hats. His recruitment story arc is also pretty interesting and it definitely affects his personality and endings. If you have Old World Blues and construct Roxie the Cyberdog he even becomes a father of a litter of "Boston terrifiers"!)

ED-E (Honestly it's my love for robots that make this little damaged travel companion so appealing. His mission is interesting, and the cashe of Enclave Intel he holds can be benefitial, but most of his endings point to ED-E continuing his journey eventually so there's a sadness with letting this little guy go if you get attached.)

Fallout 4

Preston Garvey (All Preston has ever wanted to do was help make the Commonwealth a better place for people to live in. He's a selfless man who joined a militia at age 17 to do some good, and it honestly breaks my heart that the Minutemen collapsed as hard as it did. Preston had to watch as the ideals of the Minutemen were crushed underfoot by a bunch of selfish assholes, along with an entire settlement of innocent people. He did everything in his power to keep the only four survivors safe and alive, and he's clearly traumatized, depressed and suicidally throwing himself at danger because he'd rather die fighting the good fight than caring for his own safety. He puts everyone else above himself and it infuriates me that people are so hellbent in painting him off as a bland character or a pest. Oxhorn puts it best in his profile of Preston.)

X8-88 (The Institute's top of the line Courser, the closest the Commonwealth will ever get to the Terminator, and livable despite his cynical remarks and persistence that he's incapable of emotions or attachment. It saddens me that X6 is only obtainable if you follow the Institute. It also pains me that if you do manage to befriend him and destroy the Institute, you're destroying this loyal synth's only home. You're basically stripping away everything he knows and believes in, inherently doing what the Institute has done to the Sole Survivor: Taking their life away from them. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth...)

Nick Valentine (Moral conundrums are painful. Ethical conundrums are just as bad. Nick didn't deserve anything that happened to him, and it's obvious he struggles with his identity and purpose but chooses to follow in the Original Nick's footsteps to do some good, rather than hide away and mope. He's a good person overall, even if he's a bit of a smartass sometimes. He's the perfect robodad for anyone in need of a fatherly figure in the Commonwealth.)

John Hancock (This man has a lot of emotional baggage and has made a LOT of bad choices, but if there's anyone you can trust to be loyal and helpful out in the wastes, it's definitly Hancock! His crude humour and liberal use of drugs and knives to deal with his problems can be a bit off-putting, but Hancock will defend you no matter what. Heck, he would even defend Danse from the BoS and the guy's a racist dickbag to him from the very moment they meet. That says a lot about his character.)

Codsworth (He waited for the Sole Survivor to return. For 200 fucking years. Please be kind to him, he's probably one of the nicest companions and also one of the most lovable too! He is the friend you'd wish you had if you ever found yourself in the same situation as the Sole Survivor. Cherish Codsworth, he's all you have left, and he'll protect you to the best of his ability.)

Dogmeat the Third (A brilliant genius dog that is very likely a synth. Dogmeat, like Codsworth, is a lovable guy and should definitely be cherished. I'd recommend getting the "Everyone's Best Friend" Mod so that you can have him travel with you and another companion. It's almost like FO2!)

Deacon (He's intelligent. He's sneaky. He's a pathological liar with good intentions. Deacon is mysterious and charming, and definitly a little fucked in the head. I'd like to meet his plastic surgeon if they can make him flawlessly look like a woman and a ghoul, no questions asked. Oxhorn has a pretty interesting video that explores Deacon's character and intentions, if you're interested!)

Paladin Danse (I'll admit I wasn't all that impressed with Danse when I got my first impression of him. He's rude, he's impatient, he's condescending, and worst of all he is an asshole to anyone just a bit different from him. Still, the plot-twist left space for this racist Buzz Lightyear knockoff to go through some personal growth. The years of militaristic indoctrination will probably take a while to be resolved, but Danse IS redeemable if given time. He's not inherently evil, just in dire need of a tolerance lesson.)

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 15

15. can’t buy happiness

Chapter Summary: Elektra’s record deal brings a windfall of cash into the lives of the band members, and as a former runaway, Lola’s not sure what to do with her newfound, legitimate salary. tommy moves in, the band meets doc, and they make it clear that lola’s staying on as part of the team. vince and lola have a moment that turns into a night which ends up interrupted by tommy but it all works out.

Warnings: drug use, drinking, implied/referenced nsfw, some violence, it’s 7am and this is super all over the place im so sorry omg. also this ABSOLUTELY follows the movie and not the book/real life

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove​ @antisocialfictionhoe​ @obsessivesky​ @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite​​ @colsons-crue​ @marvelismylifffe​ @lilytalebi​ @glitterdreamsz​ @freddiessmallnipples​ @crazysaladchopshop​ @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies​ @dramatique-moi​ @missqueeniewrites @calspixie​ @aryssav​ @catsoo12​ @sweetshutter​ @silvertonguedserpent​ @shamelessobsessions​ @lavenderbones22​ @keepcalm-and-beyou​ @scarecrowmax​ @nicholeh7​

{masterlist}

With the record deal comes cash, more of it than Lola had ever really considered in her life, and she suddenly feels like a kid again; uncertain, worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The others aren't like that, obviously, taking the opportunity to party as hard as they physically can between gigs, but most of her money goes into rent, bills, and fuelling her various drug and alcohol problems. Anything she couldn't afford, or anything she wanted that wasn't some sort of consumable, she usually stole or found on the street. Before Nikki, before the group home, she'd never had money of her own, any she would earn would be taken from her and "put into a college fund, so she could grow up and make dad proud" at least, that's what her mom told her. She had no idea where any of that money was now.

The point is, the band now had a payroll, and she was at the top of it, being paid an exorbitant amount for basically doing the same thing she'd been doing for the past few months. She kept most of it in a secure location in cash, having never been properly taught about basic adult tasks, like opening a bank account, but it worked for her, for now.

But, in all honesty, living with Nikki and Vince meant she actually didn't want for much. Clothes around the apartment were mostly communal property, apart from pants, which due to Lola's hips and thighs, and Nikki's height, meant they were the only items that weren't interchangeable between the three of them. Not long after, Nikki asks Tommy to move in, cites that they can afford half decent mattresses, and it would mean he could move out of his parents' house; he couldn't agree fast enough.

"Is it- you know, is it weird?" Lola overhears Tommy talking with Vince during practice, the two taking a smoke break out the front, looking out at the Strip as they leaned against the railing. The window's open and Lola's picking up bottles from around the apartment in preparation for the party that night, but she stops. They don't see her, neither of them looking out at the city, but she's worried that Tommy's going to be scared off before he even moves all of his shit in.

"What do you mean?" Vince asks, and Tommy just makes a vague noise that makes Vince laugh. "Lola? Do you mean 'cos of Lola?"

"Yeah, like isn't it weird, with her and Nikki, and you know," Tommy trails off, a little self consciously. It doesn't seem to bother the blonde, however, who hums for a moment.

"Dude, it's the same as not living here, 'long as you aren't the jealous type, you know?" Vince's grin was clear in his words, and Tommy huffed out a laugh, "go with the flow, you'll live longer." Vince claps him on the shoulder and Lola breathes a sigh of relief she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

Tommy adapts to their terrible, roach infested apartment fast, and for that Lola is grateful. She'd been worried, though she needn't have been.

"Dude, you don't work, why've you gotta leave?" He whines, his face pressed into her chest where she's sitting on his lap on the sofa, her duffel bag on her shoulder. Lola laughed, running her fingers through his hair, pulling back. When he looks up at her, his smile is sharp but there's something strangely soft shining in his eyes.

"So I can lift a quad box on my own," she murmured, and Tommy hummed appreciatively at the mental image, his hands sliding over the shiny material of her tights on her thighs. "I can already haul you dumbasses around and make it look easy," she smirked, "I need a challenge."

Tommy takes that as a challenge unto himself, and seems to make it hid personal mission in life to ride around on Lola's shoulders whenever the opportunity presented itself. His favourite was after gigs, at the bar, drunk and elated and on top of the world. Lola's a good base for stunts like this, and, not that she'll admit it out loud, enamoured enough with Tommy that she doesn't complain. Sometimes some of the other groupies at the bar, pretty waifish girls who cling to the band, give her dirty, confused looks, but she doesn't care. For the moment, she's thankful for her broad shoulders, thick thighs, and stocky build; Tommy tends to squirm, even if he doesn't mean to, but Lola finds it easy to keep him balanced.

There's parties at their house almost every night now; if it's not a party, it's practice, and they're in the recording studio every few days working on recording their first album. And Lola's there for all of it.

There's a hierarchy amongst the groupies of the Strip; girls who dated band members were at the top of the list, followed by girls who would see every show they could, followed by the more casual groupies, and Lola's always been in a sort of weird, grey area as she works with the bands, she's more in a league of her own. But there's no denying that with Motley Crue's success, and the nature of her relationship with them, Lola's found herself at the top of the hierarchy without even trying.

Beyond, she also gets along well with Zutaut; he respects her work ethic, and has a surprising penchant for partying, or at least, he seems to spend a fair amount of time at the parties the band held at their apartment. Lola blooms at parties. She's a hostess when she wants to be, not proud of the grubby, cramped apartment, but proud of herself, her boys, and the people they have in attendance. Mostly.

"Lola, baby," Vince catches her hand as she's making her way to the kitchen to grab a new drink for herself, and David Lee Roth, who'd taken up residence on their sofa for the night, her smile is bright, and she lets herself get pulled back to the table where the rest of the band had gathered, "you want a bump?" He asks, nudging Nikki who was cutting up lines of coke on a cymbal as they spoke. Lola hummed, deliberated for half a moment before she sat herself in Vince's lap, taking the cymbal as it was offered.

"Always," she grinned, making short work of the coke. She passes the cymbal back, trying to get back to her original task after giving him a quick kiss.

"You're always rushin' off," he mused, and Lola gave a small smile, getting to her feet.

"'cos I've got people to entertain, ass to kiss, I see you lot every day," her smile turns a little pleased, a little catty, "excuse me if I don't turn down a request from Diamond Dave."

As it turns out, she doesn't have time to even get back to the Van Halen singer before some random asshole tries to score a hit from the band, before Mick shoves him out of the way. The man, who's relatively wasted already, crashes into the wall, into the nice, ornate mirror that Lola had fished out of a dumpster a few months ago, knocking it off the wall and shattering it over Dave's head. He seems unperturbed, merely picking glass from his hair, but the rest of Motley Crue are on their feet in moments.

"Chill out, asshole, it's cool," the guy slurs, stumbling to his feet as Nikki's already yelling at him. Lola carefully puts both drinks she'd collected onto their table, slotting herself in to stand between Vince and Tommy, her expression cold; the hostess in her had left, only to be replaced with the security detail in her.

"Cool?" Nikki snarled, "that is David Lee Roth; how about you show a little respect or get the fuck out." He demanded, practically towering over the other man, who seemed high or drunk enough to not be intimidated.

"Make me, motherfucker," the man snapped, shoving Nikki, who went stumbling back. Lola's ready to vault the table, or at the very least, step around Vince, but she doesn't seem to need to, as a stocky man who looks out of place steps up and punches the other man in the face, pinning him with a foot on his neck, holding the man's hand behind his back. Lola feels a rush of respect towards this newcomer. He smiles at the bewildered faces of the band members, his eyes bright.

"You fellas are gonna need a manager." He grins, much to the confusion of the others, before he nods at the glass covered musician on the sofa, nodding in familiarity, "hey, Dave."

"What's everybody looking at?" He mutters in response, and the tension breaks, the rest of the party goers laugh and go back to their own conversations. Lola ferries Dave his drink and he thanks her with a half smile, but her mind's too focused on getting the rowdy drunkard from her house.

"Oh, good, you met Doc," Zutaut tells them with his trademark, nervous enthusiasm, shouldering his way through the crowd to the scene of the commotion.

"I can take it from here," Lola gestures to the man on the floor, and Doc raises an eyebrow at her. He gives her a quick look over and hands over the other man's raised hand, stepping back.

"He works with James Brown, Kiss, you name it," Zutaut's still smiling, clapping Doc on the shoulder, despite the way Mick's expression is souring.

"Fuckin' hate Kiss."

Lola yanks the man to his feet, misses most of the rest of their exchange as she holds both his arms behind his back with one hand, holding his collar with the other as she pushes him to the door. He's yelling, slurring, hollering at her for having the gall to try and kick him out. He wriggles, tries his hardest to break her grip, even as she's shoving him out of their window onto the landing outside.

"If you don't shut the fuck up," Lola grunted, expression twisted into something resembling disgust as she had her hands on the man's ass, pushing roughly as he refused to go willingly through the window, "I'm gonna knock you the fuck out, and drag you down the stairs myself, you'll wake up in a dumpster and I'll be-" with a final shove, he was finally through. Landing face first, he scrambles to his feet, trying to get back in, but Lola's already climbed out after him, "laughing." She breathes after the exertion of getting him out, "I'll be laughing."

"Fuck you." He slurs, stumbling. It's all too easy for Lola to simply grab one of his wrists and start to drag him down the stairs. He's too focused on not falling down the stairs at the pace she's setting to try and attack or break free. He's still mumbling curses, but he's already seemed to have forgotten why he was angry by the time she's got him back on the footpath outside of the building. Turning him to face her, she holds him by the shoulders, looking him very seriously in the eye.

"If you come back here, I'm gonna cut you with part of that mirror you broke," she tells him, voice level and matter-of-fact. He blinks, frowns, hiccups. She has a whole rant planned out in her head, but it would be wasted on him. Instead, she spins him around three times to disorientate him, and sends him off down the sidewalk. He's got no fight left in him, thankfully, and he seems happy to trail away.

Lola groans and heads back to the party.

"I spent years trying to find a good, gold-edged mirror," she groans once she's back inside apartment, draping herself over Nikki where he's sat back at the table, resting her chin on top of his head. She's interrupting a conversation with Doc, but she can't bring herself to care.

"And this is -?" Doc gestures to a now pouting Lola. She's leaning heavily against him, her arms wrapped loosely around him. One of Nikki's hands finds hers, without even breaking eye contact with Doc, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist.

"Lola Gone; she's our security detail." Nikki's voice doesn't leave room for argument, but Lola's expression is smug when Doc's gaze flicks to it.

"Our roadie, too," Mick chimes in, before taking a sip from his beer, his tone just as resolute as Nikki's.

"Best roadie in LA," Tommy adds, inclining both his head and his drink towards Lola, and her smile softens a little at that.

"Yeah, she's the one I was telling you about over the phone; the assistant," they all hear it when Zutaut leans over to mutter to Doc, and the manager nodded seriously for a moment, considering her. He wasn't frowning, just... contemplative.

"She's pretty integral to this whole thing, man," Vince fills in the dead air, and then all four members of Motley Crue, and Lola herself, were all staring down Zutaut and Doc.

"If she's what's been keeping the wheels turning, show-to-show, I wouldn't dream of getting rid of her," Doc smiles a carefully cultivated, show business smile, and Lola gave him her snake charmer smile in return, all teeth and the promise of a bigger bite. "You'll have to excuse me, Miss Gone, I'm not personally acquainted with your work, but I suppose I should have recognised you; your reputation precedes you." And Lola's not quite sure how to take that. Raising an eyebrow, she watches Doc's lips quirk into the barest smile, and he doesn't elaborate, but he compliments her on how well she was able to deal with the guy who broke the mirror.

Lola leaves them to it after that, grabs her now lukewarm drink and sweetly asks for a seat by Diamond Dave; the groupie who's curled herself up by him takes one look at Lola and moves, taking a seat on Dave's other side, on the arm of the sofa, making room for Lola. Lola gives the girls a sweet smile, holding out her hand for the girl, and when the girl takes it, Lola presses a kiss to the back of her hand, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

"Thank you, babe," Lola tells her, as sincerely as she can manage, before dropping her hand and nudging Dave's shoulder gently, "she's so sweet, isn't she?" She asks him pointedly. He looks up from the photoframe from which he was snorting up coke, passing it to Lola before looking up at the now flustered groupie. "Cute, too," Lola mentions with absolutely no tact, before doing a line, but he's not picky, and the groupie was quickly turning red.

She knows she has a chance if she wants to get in with the both of them, or whoever Dave ends up with, but her heart's not in it. She stays where she is for the moment because he's got some incredibly high quality blow, but her mind keeps playing the band's words over in her head; they may have overstated how valuable to the process overall - technically any roadie could do her job, just less efficiently - but it makes her feel strangely warm. Pleased.

Vince catches her smiling to herself, bopping along to music filtering in from the record player as she weaves in between people, trying to get to the fridge, and he smiles back at her when her gaze meets his. It's fond and kind in equal measure. Zutaut and Doc have dispersed into the crowd, and Tommy and Nikki are excitedly babbling over each other across Vince, and Mick's probably gone to lie down.

But Vince is watching Lola as she's dancing along to David Bowie, and he can't stop smiling.

"You guys like having me around," Lola laughed, low and a little awed, leaning against the railing on the landing outside. Vince holds out his lighter, lights the cigarette that's poised between her lips, and smirks. Before he can even begin to tease her for her terribly worded thought, she waived him off, clarifying, "like I know you guys like me, but like, it's nice to hear, you know?" Her smile was so pleased it almost bordered on smug and she pushed herself off the railing, stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around him. "Integral," she murmured, a teasing edge to her words, "where'd you learn a ten dollar word like that?"

"I could take it back," Vince raised his eyebrows at her, though he's pulling her closer, "go back in there, tell Doc you're a dime-a-dozen." But Lola doesn't seem perturbed by his obvious bluff, in fact, she's smiling like the cat who got the cream.

"But you wouldn't," she practically sang, though her voice was barely louder than a murmur, "you wanna keep me around and I'm not letting you take that back."

There's a moment where his expression softens; he's endeared by her cockiness, a fact of which she is well aware, but he can't help the way he smiles at her sometimes. Or perhaps it's that he knows she turned down a shot with David Lee Roth; it doesn't really matter if it was for anyone else specifically, she's with him here and now.

"Wouldn't want to, even if I could." Sometimes he's a sap, knows exactly what to say, how to push her buttons, but it's never malicious; he likes the way she smiles, the way she kisses him, the way she pulls him close. It's clear she's proud, it manages to bleed through in all her actions though she doesn't say it; she's reverential in the way she treats him, starry-eyed and adoring.

The only problem comes in the shape of Tommy, stumbling into the room, practically incoherent as the party's winding down. It's well past two and Lola and Vince were actually almost asleep.

"Did I-" Tommy hummed for a moment, before yawning loudly, "interrupt?" He was already struggling to pull off his leather pants, his shirt having been lost sometime earlier, as it was want to do.

"Just trying to get to sleep, dude," Vince hummed, tucking his face into the crook of Lola's neck, his chest pressed to her back. Lola yawned, her eyes staying firmly closed. They, however, did not stay this way, as a mostly pantless Tommy managed to bipass his own bed in the struggle with his pants, and fall directly on top of the pair. He lands with an 'oof' with his pants caught on the heel of one foot.

"Sorry."

Lola grumbles and Vince hits him on the back of the head, but Tommy doesn't move from the bed, just sits up and pulls off his pants with one final tug, before laying back down, this time beside them. Silence, very awkward silence, fills the room.

"You're in the wrong bed, Tommy," Vince tells him very pointedly. Tommy sighs and swears, but just shifts a little, as if getting more comfortable.

"How come your sheets are nicer than mine?"

"Because I paid top fuckin' dollar for these sheets the minute I could afford them," Vince informs him with a sigh. Lola hums, but reaches out, resting her hand on his hip, fingertips gently brushing circles against the bare skin of his upper thigh. Even in underwear he was still more decent than either Lola or Vince, who just had the blanket for modesty.

"Dude, you know we were fucking, right?" Lola asks, biting back a laugh. Tommy sighs.

"Yeah," he contemplates for a moment, "I should move, shouldn't I?" But he didn't. Instead, he shuffled back. "Is it weird if I stay?"

"At this point nothing's weird," Vince snickered, "I've seen you do some fucked up shit, man, and I'm too tired for it to be weird." He admitted, and Tommy let out a triumphant laugh.

"Oh, fuck that is too true, man; fuck this band is awesome," the grin is clear in his words, though neither of the other two can quite decipher exactly what he means by that, but then he's pulling the blanket up over himself, letting Lola pull him close.

"I mean, it's a bit weird, but that's mainly because you're still wearing socks," Lola tells him, and automatically Tommy starts wriggling, trying to pull at his socks, "now- oof, god why is your ass so bony? - you're making it weird, dude, leave it." Lola half laughs, pulling him back to her, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade, as Tommy tries to apologise for his socks, "just shut up and be the little spoon."

[tracklist-fic]

Tracklist Fic | 0 / Prelude

Title: Tracklist | An original, mature, Ed Sheeran fanfic CO-AUTHORED BY: @tea-and-toblerones and @sippin-on-red-wine Rating: Mature (SMUTS my dahhhling, SMUTS)

Note: ARE YOU GUYS FREAKING OUT????!!! CAUSE WE ARE! This will be a full-fledged Chapter fic. We are DYING to know what you think so please comment/reblog/inbox/anon and spill the beans!

"You nervous Jac? Today's the big day. The first client you'll handle yourself. Now this is a big step but I have faith you'll do just fine."

I took a deep breath in an attempt to hide my nerves. This was the first day I was at the controls. I had been looking forward to this day for weeks. As soon a Mark had brought up that he'd be comfortable letting me handle stuff solo or as he described it guidance from afar, I felt the butterflies hit. It's what I've been working so hard towards. Now that it was finally happening I couldn't believe it. He paused outside the recording room, his hand on the door knob.

"Now, I've put you with our easiest client. They're laid back, not harsh, not overly critical. They're patient and are completely understanding." They must be the closest thing to training wheels I get. "They're also very hands on with the whole process so you'll be working pretty long days elbow to elbow with them." His voice grew a little sterner, "Now I will be checking over your work to make sure it's up to snuff and will sit in on a few sessions just to make sure you're doing everything correctly."  His face broke into a smile, all previous sternness gone. "Now, are you ready to see who you're going to be working with?"

I nod, taking another deep breath, my excitement levels creeping up to near maximum. This is it. My dream is finally coming true. This is my first big step in the music world.

Mark opens the door, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with who's ever on the other side of the door. He turns back to me, motioning for me to come in. My eyes grow wide in shock when I'm staring Ed Sheeran in the face. I thought I had caught a glimpse of surprise flash behind his eyes but whatever I saw was quickly replaced with a warm and friendly smile.

Oh no.

"Jac, I'd like you to meet Ed." Mark smiles, practically bouncing with excitement. Oh no, no... "Ed, this is my intern and apprentice Jaclyn."

Ed offered out his hand, which I took, the shock still evident on my face. Ed smiled as he grasped my hand "It's a pleasure to meet you. Jaclyn. I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine."

This can't be happening.

Mark laughed, clapping his hands together, the sudden loud noise making me flinch. "I knew you'd be surprised that it's such a huge powerhouse in the music world. It was worth keeping it all a surprise from you just to see your reaction!  Not only is he huge, this is his big album after coming back from a year's hiatus!" He was still beaming, "We won't start anything serious until tomorrow so I'll leave you two to figure out scheduling and whatever else might need ironed out." He shook Ed's hand one more time before walking out the door.

As soon as Mark left I sank down into the couch, grinding the heels of my hands into my eyes. I hear Ed’s footsteps growing closer to me. I expected to feel the couch sag beside me but the soft shuffle told me he had decided to perch himself on the table instead. I raised my head to see him staring at me with a smug look on his face, his arms coming up, crossing his chest.

"Fancy meeting you here, Jac."

This is a nightmare.

THE NIGHT BEFORE…..

It was just a typical Wednesday night at Copperstill, the bourbon bar I worked at part-time to help pad my lowly intern-salary. It had that 'modern rustic’ vibe that’s so on-trend, which basically means it's filled with expensive new pieces that are made to look old and scuffed up. Whatever. It was more than supplemental to my income, and that's what mattered. It wasn't uncommon to see well-known or well-off patrons in the bar, which meant Big Tips. That's what I'm about.

Unfortunately one of the regular customers is my skeezy ex-boyfriend, Dylan, and his little posse of frat-boy idiot friends. They drink cheap beer, shoot pool, call each other by their last names only.. and oh, they don't tip well.

When Dylan (Newman, to his 'bros’) and I broke up, he actually tried to 'claim’ this bar as his, saying it's the main hangout for his 'crew’. Even though I’ve worked here for years. Asshat. Obviously I'm not quitting the job that pays most of my bills, so here we are, unwillingly spending a lot of time sharing the same oxygen.

I wasn't proud to admit that it hadn't exactly been a clean break, if you know what I mean. There's a fair bit of alcohol DRINKING involved with being the person doing the alcohol SERVING, what a novel idea. Anyway, that usually meant that by the end of the night, I was buzzed and a little horny. Dylan was an asshat, sure, but he still had a six pack. What can I say, your girl's got needs. And he can be really great, sometimes. I hadn't really gotten closure from our messy break-up.

But Dylan was in rare form tonight, hitting on a particularly fake-looking blonde in the bar. Fun times.

At least it was pretty steady, plenty of patrons coming in and out. I was slinging drinks left and right and time had been flying. Until I noticed a certain ginger-haired celebrity quietly slip in and take a seat at the bar.

His signature tattoos were covered by the long sleeves of a plaid flannel shirt, buttons agape, hanging open, a plain white tee peeking out underneath. He was semi-incognito in a black baseball cap, but his coppery-red hair was untidy and stuck out in tufts under his hat. I took his order and hearing the British accent made it official: Ed Sheeran was in my bar… alone.

We often had lesser-known or less recognizable celebrities here, not quite anyone of his caliber. I mean, there's only one #1 streamed artist in the world and… yup, he’s it. But between my experience at the bar, and the handful of popular musicians I had worked with so far in my internship, I wasn't too badly starstruck. In the beginning it had surprised me how these people were just… people. They talked about the weather or news and ate the same things I did and overall, just wanted to be treated normally. And so I got Ed Sheeran a cold pint and went about my job.

“Yo! Jac! Round of Snakebites for the boys?” Dylan just shouted clear across the bar, instead of coming up and ordering something like a decent human being. I pretended not to hear him. I'm a bartender, not a medieval beer wench.

I was at the end of the bar refilling the beer cooler when I noticed Ed trying to flag me down, so I wiped my hands on my jean shorts and made my way over to where he was perched up on his barstool.

“Hi again. Do you have food here?” He asked, rather politely. I reached back next to the till and grabbed a menu.

“Not a huge selection, but everything we have is great. Here, have a look,” and I casually handed him the one-sheet menu. He glances at it quickly.

“Alright, I'll have the loaded fries, please. But could you do salsa on the side? And maybe skip the bacon, oh and and I don’t like the onions. Actually, no jalapenos either, please, I got wicked heartburn last time I had them.”

“So… you want cheese fries?”

“Well, we call it ‘chips & cheese’ in England but.. erm, yeah, I guess I do.”

“No problem, I'll put that in for you. Shouldn't take too long… cause, y’know.. No toppings.”

He snorted, apparently able to laugh at his own expense. I appreciated that about him.

“Say, is this satellite TV?” He asked, pointing up to the neat row of flatscreens mounted above the bar. I nodded. “Could you turn the football game on?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s Wednesday, there’s no football on tonight.” I grimaced internally, realizing that I actually knew the days of the week that NFL games were played. Another awesome thing I gained from my relationship with Douchey Dylan.

“No, love, football. Footie? Soccer?” First of all, who ya calling ‘love’, buddy? Second, he was flailing his hands all around as he talked. Kinda weird.

“Oh, yeah, I gotcha. You’ve been away from America too long, evidently.”

“It’s my first week back, actually, I’ve been--”

“Away. Out of the spotlight for a while.” I finished for him, matter-of-factly. I caught a glimpse of the macho men behind Ed’s shoulder doing some kind of secret bro handshake.

“How’d you…?”

“Who doesn’t know? Wasn’t born yesterday, man. Shit, do people ever really pretend not to know who you are? You don’t exactly blend into a crowd, no offense.”

“Cheers to that,” He held up his pint glass to toast me.

“Oh, I’m not drinking tonight.”

Just then, one of Dylan’s friends moseyed up onto the bar. He was wearing a light-wash denim jeans, the kind that are distressed before you buy them, and a super tight black tee shirt. It looked like it came from Baby Gap.

“Where are the Snakebites?” he asked.

“Uh, no one ordered any?” I retorted.

“Didn’t you hear Newman before?”

I rolled my eyes and went to work making a tray of the disgusting shots. The sour, gold liquid sloshed out of the shot glasses on the tray when I slid it back in front of one of the gorilla guys. “Thirty eight dollars.” The guy threw down two crumpled twenty dollar bills, took the tray and left.

“You’re right, I have been away from America a long time. Do people talk to you like that all time?” Ed asked.

“No, they’re just a special kind of stupid.” I shrugged, tilting my head over to the group of guys.

I cashed out the shots order at the register and then decided to pour myself a cocktail after all. The bar had cleared out a little bit, and to be honest, I needed a little something to take the edge off. Especially if I was going to have to watch Dylan subtly flexing his muscles in front of the blonde bimbo he was trying to impress.

I mixed myself a double and stuck a straw in, taking a long sip.

“Changed your mind about that drink?” Ed Sheeran piped in again. Probably shouldn’t have come to the bar alone if you’re in a chatty mood, pal.

“Turns out I’m gonna need it.”

“What’s that you’re drinking?”

“I call it a Painkiller. Vodka, tequila and grapefruit juice.”

“I’ll take one of those next, please.”

Ed ……..

She seemed like a really cool girl. Something feisty about her, too. ‘Spose you need that to be a bartender, especially since douche-bag fuckboys tended to travel in packs. Watching her work had won my attention over the footie match. She was polite to other patrons, but not overly peppy or talkative. All about business. I cracked up when one of the Ed Hardy jean-wearing guys put on some kind of EDM song on the TouchTunes, and she promptly switched it off and replaced it with a Jimi Hendrix tune, Watchtower.

I couldn’t help but admire her long, toned legs, her skin tanned from the California sun. She was wearing these high-waisted denim shorts that fit her body like a glove, and this pretty white tanktop that was all made up of rope and straps in the back, her tan skin peeking through the whole way down. But the shirt was modest in the front and she had finished off the outfit with a pair of teal blue chucks. Her sandy-blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail high on her head, the long waves spilling out and running down her neck. Her eyes were green, I think. I wanted to get a closer look.

She was gorgeous, no argument there.

I watched her pull out a tube of chapstick and apply some to her lips, which looked full and soft and were a pale raspberry color. I found myself first wondering what they would taste like…. And as she tucked the little tube back down into the denim of her shorts, fitted so snugly on her tight hips, I couldn't help but wonder what she would taste like in other places, too...

Jac……..

A couple hours had passed. Dylan was open-mouthed kissing the blonde in front of the dart board while several of his ‘bros’ cheered him on. I’d had enough Painkillers that I knew I would most definitely have a headache at work in the morning. And Ed Sheeran just seemed to get chattier and chattier the more he drank. Which is great, unless you’re a miserable, sarcastic bitch, like myself. Blonde Bimbo was all giggles and lip bites and pouty faces. All that stuff was so not me. No wonder you’re going home alone, J.

“... so yeah, it’s at this really cool old theatre, ‘The Time’, have you heard of it?” Oh, was Ed still talking?

“Sorry, what?” You asked, not bothering to hide the fact that you totally weren’t paying attention.

He laughed. “You seem distracted.”

“Sorry,” I wasn't sure what to say. Sorry, my ex-boyfriend-still-lover has practically unlatched his jaw to suck face with a Barbie-doll lookalike right in front of me? Sorry, you're a Grammy-award winning singer/songwriter and even *that* can't snap me out of the downward spiral I'm in?

“Do you want to hang out sometime? Maybe get a proper drink when you're off work, catch a movie or something?”

Wait, what?

“Are you seriously asking me out?” I asked, incredulously. “Uh, you don't even know my name.”

“Well, yeah, I guess I am innit?” He flashed a dopey grin my way.

“Hey, I’m flattered, I’m just not really… looking...”

“Have you got a boyfriend?” He asked.

“Nope.”

“Girlfriend?”

I could feel my face getting flushed. Was Ed Sheeran seriously asking me on a date? He shifted his posture and ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it up again. I couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to do that to him...

I snapped back to reality.

“Nope. Just not really looking to, ah, date, right now.”

“Does that mean you're open to other… activities?” Ed shrugged off the flannel shirt, exposing the rainbow designs splashed all up and down his arms. Was he suddenly warm, or trying to illustrate a point?

Either way, it got my attention.

“I hadn't pegged you as a hit-it-and-quit-it kinda guy,” I replied, straightening my posture a bit. I was suddenly a little more aware of my physical presence, clad in short denim cutoffs that bordered on the line of distasteful, but kept the tip jar flowing.

“No -- I’m, that's not what I meant --” he stammered.

I glanced up at the clock. “Well, my shift is ending in about twenty minutes.” I said, matter-of-factly.

His jaw hung open a bit. “Okay. I'm do--, okay, yeah.”

“My place.”

“Okay. Are you going to tell me your name, now?”

“I don't really think you need my name, just for… activities.”

I had told Ed to meet outside by my car while I punched out. I slipped out the backdoor of the bar and sure enough, there he was, leaning up against my car with a sly grin painted across his face.

Okay, Jac, here's your last chance. Is this really a good idea? No? But he looks so… fucking sexy.

I crossed the small parking lot to where he was standing. I reached out to touch him, apprehensive at first, but then he pulled my face into his and his lips were on mine and they were pillow soft, but still rough and pressing on mine. All apprehension flew out the window at that moment.

The kiss breathed life into me, and I grasped his shoulders and pressed his back flat up against the side of my little SUV, letting my tongue implore his mouth, finally breaking that barrier. He was a really, really great kisser. His hands explored my body while our tongues explored each other's mouths. I really wanted to touch his silky mop of ginger hair, so I reached out and removed his ball cap, placing it backwards on my own head instead. He took advantage of my slight distraction and flipped me up against the car, his palms rubbing down my sides and onto my hips as I dug into that wild mess of red curls, threading my fingers through it, it's even better than I expected... He pressed the full length of his body against mine, and I was surprised to feel his cock already hardening through his jeans. Fucking hot.

I broke our connection, both of us coming up for air from that long and heady kiss. He pulled away from my body and I pouted instantly, I wanted him back, the pressure of his body felt so good, so right…

“How far is your place?” He breathed.

“Twenty minutes or so?” I was already panting.

“...Fuck.” Yeah, man, me too. Me. Too. Twenty minutes suddenly seemed like an eternity.

I grabbed the handle to the rear passenger door and swung it open. “In.” It wasn't a question.

He slipped into the warm, black leather backseat and I climbed up in after him, straddling his lap.

I could finally reach his mouth again and ravaged it with enthusiasm, the kiss turning more and more frenzied as my hips bucked around over the top of his pelvis.

He was the one to break away this time.“Damn… you are so beautiful… let me see you?” And he tugged up at the hem of my top, yanking it up and over my head.

My tank was sort of backless, so I hadn't worn a bra.

But Ed was all over me, his flattened hands running over my belly, my ribcage, my lower back, his mouth on my neck, and decolletage, then shoulder...

He stopped just short of my breasts, his hands pulling away from my body. “Please, just tell me your name?”

I deflected, burying my face into his neck and sucking on his sweet skin, relishing the feel of my nipples dragging across the soft fabric of his teeth shirt, the way my legs settled on either side of his lap.

His hands ran down my back now, instead, tracing my spine, his fingertips dancing over my skin. I took a little nip at the spot just below and behind his earlobe, and he moaned out into the backseat of my Jeep.

Even through both of our jeans I could feel the outline of his dick, straining at his zipper, wanting to break free.

“God damnit,” I cursed under my breath.

“What's wrong?” His voice was so sweet. You can drop the good-guy act, dude, we're about to fuck and never see each other again.

“I need to drive. Us. To my apartment. Right now.”

“You're going to need a shirt, then.”

He followed directly behind me on the stairs up to my apartment, I can only imagine he was staring at my ass as I climbed each step. I stopped in front of my door and pulled my keys out, Ed wrapped up my body from behind, his mouth on my neck, his hands sliding down my stomach, his erection pressed up against me. I finally found the right key and inserted it in the deadbolt.

As soon as the door swung open, it was game over. He slammed it shut behind us, locking the deadbolt again. His eyes were hungry, his lips painted a pretty kiss-stung shade of pink. He came at me, pulling my face up into his, those pretty lips crashing into my own as he walked me backwards until we were pressed up against the refrigerator in my tiny kitchen. Thankfully I had left the light on above the sink.

He quickly pulled off my tanktop again, this time going straight for my breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the little pink bud, sucking in. “Fuck,” I spat out, the sensation taking me by surprise. He replaced his mouth with two fingers, rolling my left nipple between them while his mouth moved to my other breast, repeating the same swirling and sucking while I gasped for air.

The door handle of the fridge was digging into my back, but I didn't even care, everywhere he was touching me was just buzzing. I wanted more.

“Bedroom,” I gasped out.

He removed his mouth, taking a step back. He looked 100% fuckable in that moment, the dim glow from the kitchen sink light illuminating all of his edges; the wiry scruff of his facial hair, his biceps clearly visible beneath the short sleeve of his white t-shirt.

I grabbed him by the hand and led him through my small apartment, into my small, cozy bedroom. The curtains were open, starlight pouring in through the window pane.

Ed closed my bedroom door behind us, and it was my turn to de-clothe him. I pulled his t-shirt up and over his head in one swift motion. The belt buckle was next, but my hands were trembling with urgency and I couldn't quite get it unclasped. He reached forward and did it for me, unbuttoning his jeans as soon as the belt buckle was freed. I took over from there, crouching down to yank his jeans and boxers down, watching in awe as his cute, fuzzy thighs appeared right before me. He picked up each foot in turn, letting me clear away the pile of fabric at each ankle.

I straightened back up and turned him around, walking him backwards toward my bed, then pushed him down onto it. He adjusted himself, dragging his body up the bed a bit until his head hit the pillows.

I shucked off my denim shorts, and the thong I wore underneath that was now soaked through with my arousal.

I crawled onto the bed, toward the headboard, and reached down to my nightstand to pull the little drawer open. I rummaged through it, reaching toward the back and found the little foil packet I was after.

I straddled Ed, clutching the little condom wrapper like it was my own personal Golden Ticket. His hands settled on my hips instantly, and I leaned into his neck again to suck and kiss and tease him, a strong little vein popping forward as he tilted his head back to release a soft groan.

Holy shit, his whole chest is tatted, I realized, as I shimmied down his body. The starlight was bright enough only to show me the mix of colors running over every inch of his chest, I couldn't make out what any of the designs were. Oh well.

Just a short trip down his belly and I found a soft trail of little coppery hairs leading to my prize: his cock, thick and rock-hard, curving up slightly toward his stomach. I tentatively wrapped my fingers around it and wow, was he ready to go. His cock literally pulsed in my hand as I tightened my grip. I had just intended to slip the condom on him but in that moment, fuck it, I just had to have a taste.

I let my lips fall open, tongue flattening as I lowered my mouth on his shaft. I flicked my tongue over his slit, then took his plump head in my mouth, lubricating it with my saliva. I let my tongue trace the outline of his ridge while my hand still grasped the base of his cock, pumping it softly. He was moaning again, his hips pushing up into my mouth.

I took his whole length into my mouth, and his hands crept up to my head, his hand gently grasping my ponytail. I bobbed up and down on his length a few times, taking his length deeper into my mouth on each pass.

I left a sloppy kiss over his head and eased off, sitting back on my heels. I ripped open the little foil packet and pulled the condom out, grasping the base of his cock as I rolled the little latex barrier down over his erection. “God, you look so sexy doing that…” his voice trailed off.

Once the condom was snugly covering his cock, I crawled forward, suspending my body over his. I leaned in for a quick kiss, biting his bottom lip as I pulled away.

I raised up my hips, gripping his shaft as I lined up my opening with his tip. I sank down slowly onto his cock, easing myself onto him inch by inch. His sex was so wide, so thick - he filled me up to the max, it was crazy hot. Ed apparently thought so too, as he took on a sharp breath and sputtered “...so tight, damn it…”

Once I had taken his full length into me, I took a deep breath and started to rock up and down on his cock, pressing my hands to his chest for leverage. The tip of his penis stroked my very back wall, dragging across it over and over again as I rode him in my bed, our bodies illuminated by the night sky outside.

I leaned over his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as his tongue explored my mouth, his strong hands gripping my hips as I bounced up and down on his thick cock.

This kiss was sloppy, swapping saliva as we took turns groaning into each other's mouths. The new angle had my clit grinding against his pubic bone and it felt so fucking good. It had been a long, LONG time since I had climaxed during sex.

I broke away from his mouth, burying my face in his neck again as I grabbed at his hair, probably pulling enough for it to hurt. If it did, he didn't say anything.

“That's right, baby, grind your pretty little clit on me…” He muttered in my ear, his hands rocking me over and over him.

I was whimpering, I couldn't help it, the mix of sensations overwhelming me as he thrust into me over and over, my clit delighting in the pressure of our bodies coming together.

“I'm -- I’m --” I gasped out.

“Yeah? You gonna come all over my cock? Let me have it,” his voice shifted, low and growly in his throat and I was putty in his hands, I had no option but to obey and I cried out as my orgasm took over, my walls tightening around him as I held my breath and clenched my thighs around him and held my grip on his damp curls.

He flipped us both over, his erection fit snugly inside me the whole way. He adjusted the pillow beneath my head and left a kiss on my jaw. “You okay to keep going, love? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, more -- I want more,” I muttered, still trying to catch my breath.

He took my words to heart as he leaned forward, resting all of his bodyweight on his forearms, and withdrew his cock from me super slowly, then thrust into me again, hard, the sound of skin hitting skin reverberating around the room.

“Yes, just like that,” I cried out.

He sped up, sinking his rigid shaft into me in perfect rhythm, his eyes trained on our connection. I watched him as he watched his own cock sink into my pink flesh.

“D’you like what you see?” I asked, calling him out for his intentful stare.

He glanced up at me, a smirk plastered across his face. “Caught me..” he said, tucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he went back to watching as he fucked me slowly. His beautiful blue eyes shifted back up to mine. “You’re just so gorgeous, every inch of you… I want to taste you…” and before I knew it, he pulled out of me and was flat on his tummy, pushing my knees up, burying his head between my legs.

His mouth was on me in an instant, his tongue dipping into my folds. He licked and sucked on every inch of my slit before finally zeroing in on my clit. He hummed, the vibrations spilling over my sensitive little bud and I couldn't help but buck my hips up into his face, grabbing fistfuls of sheets on either side of me.

“Fuck -- do that again,” All manners were out the window at this point.

He obliged, humming again over my clit as he tongue stroked and flicked and then he one-upped himself, slipping a finger in my wet entrance, adding another layer of pleasure.

I groaned, wriggling my hips under his face, admiring his golden-copper hair fluffed up between my legs. “Don't stop,” I breathed, which apparently only served to egg him on more. He sank a second finger into me, stroking forward on my front wall as he went to town on my clit.

He hummed one last time and it was like he struck a match in just the exactly perfect way to make it light up in flames. White hot fire spread through my veins, branching out in all directions from my core as I tried to stifle my shouts. My heart thudded in my chest as I released my grip on the sheets and, once again, threaded my fingers through his hair, wanting to pull his beautiful mouth away from my sensitive clit.

He moved up my body and I pulled his mouth into mine, tasting myself on his tongue, kissing him open-mouthed so I could try to catch my breath again. That orgasm had absolutely wrecked me. I never had expected him to be such a skilled lover

“Want you.. to come.. for me now,” I said, breathlessly, inhaling on each pause.

He brushed the stray flyaway hairs off my face, staring up into my eyes. “Can I take you from behind? Is that okay?”

I leaned forward, pushing him up off of me, and flipped onto my hands and knees in front of him, which I imagine was a better visual than just saying, “Yes.”

He lined up with my entrance again and pushed in, filling me back up with his girthy shaft. I moaned, everything was so sensitive down there and the angle from behind was so different than before. Once he was buried in me, his hands found my waist and pulled me back into him, my hips meeting each thrust as he fucked me.

There's no way I could come a third time but holy shit did that feel good, so satisfying, just feeling his hips thrust into me as he pulled my body back onto him and I knew, I knew without looking that his stare was fixed down on my ass, watching as he buried his cock in me, probably admiring the way my ass swayed with each thrust, increasingly harder on each pass.

“Yes, fuck me, fill me up,” I choked out, pausing each time he entered me.

“Gonna -- come -” he warned, his breath hitched, his grip on my waist tightening.

Five or six strokes later and he pulled me into him one last time, holding me there, groans tumbling from his mouth as he emptied himself into the little latex barrier. I found myself wishing he hadn't worn the condom, the thought was just there in my head before I could make sense of it. Don't be stupid, Jac.

He held us still for a moment, probably collecting himself, before pulling out of me. I was so exhausted from my orgasms that I collapsed down onto the bed, rolling to lie on my side as he crawled out of my bed.

“There's tissues there, on my desk, wastebasket below it,” I panted. I watched as he crossed over to my little writing desk, cleaning up and disposing then used condom.

I expected him to slide back into his boxers and jeans but he came back to the bed, instead, sidling in next to me.

“That was really nice,” he said, a kind of daydream-like quality to his voice.

“Yeah, it was,” I agreed, wondering when he was going to leave.

“Do you mind if I stay the night?”

Oh.

“I've actually got work pretty early in the morning…” It was a lame excuse, sure. But we had been clear about this being a one-night thing.

“Please? I can leave early in the morning. I just.. I don't want to sleep alone tonight…”

“Okay, fine. That's fine.”

He slipped under the covers and I flipped around to my other side, my back facing him. Before long, we were both asleep.

My head was throbbing as my alarm rang out (“Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel).

Ed was closer to my nightstand, so he grabbed my cell and handed it over to me to turn the alarm off. He slipped out of bed, finding his underwear in the pile of clothes on the floor and swiftly pulled them on. He dressed himself in last night's clothes as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, sitting up in bed with the sheets pulled over my naked breasts. Can't believe I let him sleep here.. NAKED. Fuck. Such a big day at work. Why did I have to go *there* last night? I'm supposed to be an adult. Ugh.

“I want to ask for your name, again, but I have a feeling you'll turn me down. Can I at least leave you my number?”

What does this guy not understand about a one night stand?

“Look, that's really sweet and all. But please don't. You're nice, and you're good in bed. But this was a one-time thing. I’m sure you won't be in town for long anyway. Sorry. I've got to jump in the shower so I can get to work on time…” I had avoided eye contact with him throughout my little speech.

“I understand. I'll head out then. It was nice meeting you, mystery girl.” He leaned down and left a peck on my forehead, then let himself out of my room. I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to give myself a pep talk. I really needed to get up and moving so I could make it to the studio before Mark got in.

A moment later I heard the deadbolt open and my front door open and shut. I had forgotten to listen for that when he left my bedroom. I got up to re-lock the door and saw a note on the my coffee table as I walked naked through my living room.

It was his phone number, etched out in slanty chicken scratch, his name signed below it.

Thanks for reading!

[salyardskatalyna]

state farm life insurance medical exam

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Quick Guide: Life Insurance Medical Exam for Women. The above is meant as general information and as general policy descriptions to help you understand the different types of coverages. These descriptions do not refer to any specific contract of insurance and they do not modify any definitions, exclusions or any other provision expressly stated in any contracts of insurance. We encourage you to speak to your insurance representative and to read your policy contract to fully understand your coverages. Our mission is to educate customers of our service across the state of Illinois in order to provide them with affordable life insurance coverage. Our agency represents numerous companies to make sure you get free life insurance quotes that are customized to your needs. Being Illinois, we are here for you as you take care of your family. We insure more than just life insurance, but we also offer insurance for people around to save money and to make sure that you are ready for a short time. If you have specific questions about life insurance, we’d be happy to.

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[blkpnkwriting]

bad for you

part i. / part ii. / part iii.

bad!girl Rosé x Reader

Warnings: swearing, drug use (tobacco, alcohol)

Word count: 7,418

     You were the type who believed in “if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen” but that didn’t seem to be working out too well for you. The moment you practiced “if you want something, go get it” was the moment she came into your life.

NOTE: i accidentally deleted the original request from anonymous, i apologize !! it was essentially asking for a scenario between rosé and a female reader where rosé is all cool and tough and indifferent but then her attitude changes completely once she meets the reader and she’s not afraid to show it

     You palmed a set of tarnished keys in your hand, belonging to your new apartment. Above you, you heard the faint ticking of time passing inside the empty convenience store.

    This was your fresh start.

    High school was a little over a year ago, and in that span of time, you had nothing to show for it. Nothing has changed. Your entire life has spun around you, the epicenter, dynamic while you stayed stagnant. Life was boring sitting on the bleachers while everyone else got to play.

    And you were tired of it. You wanted something different, something new.

    Which was exactly why you moved away from everything you knew. You managed to scrape by on the skin of your teeth, a change of scenery, a place of your own, and an odd job. The store owner was more than content with throwing you into the mess of things, running over rules and regulations, what your role entailed. Which appeared to be just about everything. Whatever, you would make decent money at an easy enough job. You were just happy that you somehow got what you wanted.

    Not the whole package, but it would do for now.

    Night fell as you counted change for a customer, handing the remainder back with a fake smile plastered on your face. They nodded and left the way they came, and you were alone again. Bored, again. You leaned forward on the counter, resting your chin in the curve of your hand, and blew hair out of your face. This shift wasn’t going to last much longer, you just had to make it to midnight. Then, you were expected to close and lock up shop, catch a bus back to your apartment, and start your routine over the next morning.

    You wanted things to change, but the most you had accomplished was isolating yourself.

    You were contemplating the effects of another Red Bull on how well you’d sleep tonight, when there came the distant rumbling that could only be associated with a motorcycle, growing louder and ever nearer. Eyes closed, you prayed they wouldn’t come in and bother you during your last stretch of your shift. Couldn’t you just sit in peace and watch late night news until it was time to bail?

    Apparently not, as the chime of the front door opening rang. It was already annoying. You swallowed your bitterness and prepared to put on that same fake smile again, when you registered just the kind of group that was entering.

    Leather jackets, studded joints. The dull thud of worn combat boots. Jovial laughter, a guy elbowing his friend roughly as they horsed around. And when they cast their attention on you, you almost cowered away. As you would have done in the past. They looked like thugs, and you were the only one in the store. Little, ol’ you. Some of the men towered in comparison, and the way one toyed with a toothpick between his teeth, eyeing you over, had you deciding these were not the kind of people you wanted to be alone with in the middle of the night. Except, you were.

    A muscle in your jaw jumped as you clenched it shut, steeling yourself against your flight instincts. Before, you would have been the type to hide away and wait for them to leave, no matter what they did. It wasn’t your problem, and you didn’t want to get involved. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you didn’t involve yourself with anything your entire life, which was why you had no experience to speak of. No notable friends, no direction after high school, and honestly? Barely a life worth living.

    You didn’t want to be that scared, little girl anymore. The one who watched the world like it was a movie and wasn’t even a supporting character in it. Too content with your silence and trepidation. You moved away to start over, but you had to follow through with your plan. You had to do the one thing you hadn’t yet.

    Go out of your comfort zone.

    You stood your ground at the cash register, wincing out a sickly-sweet smile in response to the man still gazing at you over the candy aisle. It was countered with a mirthless chuckle, and he must’ve tapped his buddy beside him, because he too began staring at you. The hair on the back of your neck pricked at you, warning you, but you ignored it, glaring back into dark eyes crinkling with thoughts you didn’t want to know anyway.

    The door chimed once more, and you inadvertently deviated your eyes.

    To her.

    Whoever she was, whatever she was doing with this wayward gang --- there was one thing you knew for certain and that was just how beautiful she was. Strawberry blonde hair to stand stark against the weathered leather of her bomber jacket. Ripped jean shorts, fabric hanging in tendrils down her thighs, belonging to impossibly long legs that finished with clunky boots. In hand, she used a motorcycle helmet to bash her friend’s shoulder at whatever they had said.

    You were staring and you couldn’t help it. You were staring so much that as she passed the register, she looked up, meeting your eyes. There must’ve been an expression written all over your face for the lopsided smile she gave you. At that, you felt your cheeks grow warm with a blush, and you almost caved your already weak resolve.

    Almost.

    Movement over her shoulder stole your gaze just as one of the ruly guys pocketed some merchandise like he was merely helping himself to a five-finger discount. And without thinking, you sprang into action.

    “Hey, you wanna maybe put that back?” you snapped rather rudely in his direction. You didn’t let the fact that it came out easier than expected rattle you.

    The girl now in your peripheral stopped in her tracks, smile falling, turning to look at the man in question.

    The guy shrugged, the ghost of a smile tweaking at the corners of his thin mouth. He glanced at his friend for confirmation, who only shook his bald head in faux innocence. “I don’t got nothin’.”

    “Yeah, you shouldn’t go around accusin’ people,” his buddy countered, snickering. The confrontation was making your chest all tight. “It’s bad for business, y’know.”

     You weren’t sure why you did it, but you rounded the counter, striding past the girl and past the way it made your heart leap out of your chest, and right up to the guy. His eyebrows lifted in mild bemusement at your being forward, his smile in full force. Before, you would have turned tail by now. You hated that look on someone’s face, condescending and arrogant, like they had already won. At the present moment, it pissed you off. You found yourself inwardly praying again that you wouldn’t stutter or make a fool of yourself.

    “I know what I saw,” you stated. A hand jutted forward for his pocket and you added, “Give it back, and then you can leave.”

    “‘I can leave?’” he repeated, laughing in your face. He smelled like cigarette smoke standing this close to him, and it made you want to gag with how heavy it was. No wonder he had no money to properly buy anything when all of it was spent on his vice. “What are you going to do?”

    You opened your mouth to speak, but it wasn’t your voice that came out.

    “Alright, cut it out.” Someone brushed past you, gently, in a way that wasn’t meant to disturb you. It was the girl with the strawberry blonde hair, and she reached up to grab the guy not so gently by the hair, yanking him down a peg, literally. “You’ve had your fun, now give it up. You’re being fucking stupid.”

    She didn’t wait for him to say anything, releasing her hold on him not so gently. There was a sound of discontentment as he reared back from the push, but he didn’t try to fight back, and with a roll of his eyes, he pulled out the couple of candy bars and a set of earbuds he had thieved. You realized your hand was still stuck out and he seized it, his fingers calloused against the back of your hand, slapping the items into your palm. The force shook you to the core but you took a deep breath and kept from crumbling.

    Without another word, he smacked his friend’s shoulder and the two of them left. You could hear them muttering slurs as they threw open the door.

    “I’m sorry about that,” the girl said then, turning around to face you, voice much softer. All that confidence that you had built up to face the thief wobbled before her. Up close, you were hit with the whole impact of her beauty. Even as she spoke, you couldn’t stop looking at her supple lips, slightly redden with lipstick from hours ago. Or it was just the natural color of them. “Sometimes they forget how to behave in public. They’re good guys... mostly.”

    The accompanying laugh, low in her throat, did things to your stomach that you hadn’t felt before. But you weren’t responding, and she was doing that same lopsided grin at you again like she was in on some joke.

    “Well, sorry again. I hope you have a good rest of your night,” she finished, nodding at a couple stragglers inside the store. Together, they all began to file out, and with them, the anxiety of the whole scenario. In its wake, you were left with this sensation of elation, of actually standing up for yourself. Maybe that was what gave you a short burst of courage, because as the girl was leaving the store, you finally spoke up.

    “Who should I be thanking for tonight?”

    A pause, hand holding open the door, and then she looked over her shoulder. Smirking. “Rosé,” said she, and not without giving you a last glance over, and leaving you with a wink.

    That wink was all you could think about while you laid wide awake in bed that night.

    A series of days trickled by, uneventful. The girl, Rosé, almost felt like a distant memory at this point with hardly anything to remember her by. It was much shorter than you recalled, the entire store visit lasting no more than a handful of minutes. You weren’t paying that much attention, you had just wanted to go home. All you could think about was that lopsided smile, the hint of... something behind it. It was like she knew something about you right from start.

    Whatever, you couldn’t ponder about it anymore or it was going to drive you crazy. Instead, you contented yourself with thinking about how her long hair must feel so silky. How nice her voice was once you thought about it, all milk and honey. How there was that trace of a threat still in her eyes when she faced you, only for it to disappear when she addressed you. It was sexy, you had to admit, and you wanted to hit yourself for being the stereotypical girl who was attracted to the bad guy.

    The sound of a pen clicking over and over filled the void inside the convenience store. It was located somewhat on the outskirts of the large city you were trying to get familiar with, and the people that would come by either knew about it previously or were travellers. The store was growing old, if you were being honest. The walls had water stains, the shelves were due for the garbage and sank under the weight of its property, and the television set was a bulky son of a bitch that had a handle at the top for you to carry around if you so wished. Yet, it did well enough that the owner could pay you worth your while, and that’s all you cared about.

    In time, perhaps you could even appreciate the antiquity of it all.

    A customer passed through the doors, headed for their usual. After a short wait, they came to the counter, head bowed as they perused the lotto tickets that were displayed beneath the glass under your hands. You conversed absently with them as they mused over which ticket they’d buy, and you didn’t bother to look and see who had also entered just then, the bell clinking their arrival.

    “I think I’ll buy one of these...” the customer finally said, finger pressing against the glass. You shuffled through some tickets in the stash behind the counter, selecting a few of the types they had picked.

    Ringing up the tickets, you informed the customer of the price, and accepted the bills as they were handed to you. The register clanked open, allowing you to then sift through the money, and placed the bit of leftover change into their hand, thanking them as customary.

    The customer turned, leaving the counter.

    Behind them stood Rosé.

    Your reaction was simultaneous --- you rooted to the spot, your mouth dry, and your brain short-circuited.

    Today, Rosé gifted you with a mesh top with only a black bralette underneath, and you took note of the way the fishnet had ripped on her shoulder, hanging slightly. She was too close to the counter to see the rest of what she somehow managed to look grunge chic, but that didn’t matter, because she was talking and you were forgetting to respond again.

    “Did I smudge my eyeliner?” she was teasing, idly brushing at a spot beneath her eye.

    You shook your head, and forced yourself to say something. “No, you look nice.” Wait, not that.

    That low chuckle again, like she knew she had you wrapped around her finger already. You would be totally happy with that... if you weren’t trying this new thing of not letting yourself be easily swayed by what happened around you. Even if this girl had somehow already gotten to you, you were out to prove to yourself that you could take control for once. That you didn’t have to be stuck in the same old life where nothing happened because you had no agency.

    “What can I get for you, Rosé?” you asked, enjoying the way her name rolled off your tongue. You tried to appear nonchalant, even allowing a faint smile to grace your lips. You don’t miss the way she glances at them, and you privately celebrate your small victory.

    “Well... Y/N,” she started, taking a second to purposefully look down at your nametag your boss made you wear. Your heart fluttered. “I’d like some Luckies, if you got them.”

    “Some what?” you blurted out, blindsided.

    Rosé laughed again. “Lucky Strikes, the cigarettes? I know some places don’t sell them, but I figured I’d try here.”

    Cigarettes, you thought disdainfully, everyone’s got to have a flaw. There was a puzzled look on Rosé’s face when you then turned around and momentarily browsed the cigarette selection you have at your disposal. After a beat, you found them, and reached up to take a pack of them down.

    You sat them on the counter, and Rosé’s fingers brushed yours as she asked, “What was that look for?”

    “What look?” you replied earnestly, the words coming out quickly at the contact.

    “You gave me a weird look when I asked for the cigarettes,” she explained, smirking. “What, don’t like them?”

    “Actually, no,” you honestly responded. You shrugged a shoulder, “Never really been a fan of them. I think there’s more to not like about them than anything else.”

    As you spoke, a strange expression crossed Rosé’s face, and you feared you said too much, upsetting her. Even after you stopped talking, she didn’t say anything, and didn’t remove her hand or the cigarettes from the counter. Now you fucked up. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ---”

    “No, don’t apologize,” Rosé interrupted, and you were relieved to see the crooked smile you had been thinking about for days. And some nights. “I’m glad you don’t like them. They’re seriously bad for you --- make you smell bad, your teeth get all yellow... stuff like that.”

    “You don’t look so bad,” you said without thinking. Again. You wanted to slap your forehead, but Rosé chuckled, ducking her head the slightest bit. She acted like she wasn’t complimented all that often, and the sudden thought made you sad. There was so much to admire, and the idea that no one was telling her that was a disservice to everyone.

    “Well, I try,” she said, taking the cigarettes off the counter. In their place, she set down a couple bills, and before you could input the amount into the machine, she was speaking again. “Don’t bother. It’s for you.”

    “I can’t do that,” you reluctantly declined with a shake of your head, pushing the money back. Black fingernails scratched at the counter as she stopped you from rejecting the money.

    “Think of it as a tip, for the advice.” Rosé winked at you again, and damn it if your heart didn’t speed up.

    Disappointment flooded your entire being when Rosé turned back and started for the door. What was it that made you want her to stay? You barely knew her, and she only got your name today. For all you knew, she could be just like the guys she ran with: good for nothing except trouble. Yeah, you wanted a different path than the one you had been treading your entire life, but you didn’t want to go down the wrong one just for the hell of it.

    “Cigarettes are bad for you!” you called after her, just like the other night.

    Rosé didn’t bother looking over her shoulder as she neared her exit. But she still replied, and it rattled you to the core, just like the bell as she left.

    “Maybe I’m bad for you.”

    Maybe I’m bad for you.

    What Rosé said has stuck with you for days.

    Did that mean she was going to come back? Did that mean you were right and she was nothing but ill will for your future? Did that mean she liked you like you liked her?

    You spent an entire night thinking about it. Realizing you did feel... something for her. There was no one else like her that you had met. No one that so instinctually provoked you to feel confused and dazed and excited and apprehensive and fuck, just everything. It was all just a big mess in your head, and you stared up at the darkened ceiling of your small apartment, churning inside your mind. Why was it like this? You had only met her twice now, and it was not enough. You wanted more. You wanted to know her.

    You just didn’t know where to begin. How to contact her. How to show without showing that you wanted to... you don’t know. And so you tossed over and buried your head in your pillow and forced yourself to sleep.

    Today was a new day. And you were at work. At the very least, it was a different shift than usual, one where you would be let off at a reasonable time. You might even be able to grab a bite to eat after work instead of scarfing down microwave meals and then going to bed.

    It was busier during the day, you noted. Which was welcoming, allowing a reprieve from your overactive head from thinking about things that would lead you nowhere but distracted and unreliable.

    “Got any plans for this evening?”

    Your coworker, a slack-off of a guy with a nice enough personality, asked you but not without taking his eyes off his cellphone game. Lame.

    “Nothing but something to eat at someplace nice,” you informed. You were actually excited about it. You didn’t get to go out very often even if it was just by yourself. You swept some dust into the broom butler, attempting to look busy. You had been working since early this morning, while your coworker had only shown up about an hour ago. He would ultimately end up the night shift, your usual gig. You looked at the clock to see just how close freedom was.

    “Oh, so you got a date?” he asked, and his eyes flitted from his screen. Apparently, this was slightly more important than his phone.

    “Don’t need one,” you countered, pleased with yourself at the confidence. “I just wanna find a nice place with good food, maybe even make it a regular pit stop.”

    “’Cause you’re new,” he added, nodding. His foot jiggled from its prop on the counter, laces slapping the side of his sneakers. “We should go out sometime, I can show you around.”

    You’re going to have to look away from your phone for more than five minutes for that to happen, you thought. You didn’t respond, and he didn’t seem to be too bothered by it. You rolled your eyes and moved to a new area to sweep.

Cleaning up the last of your duties, you were finally able to leave your shift. You entered the bathroom to change, and sighed in happiness when you took off the tacky polo you have to wear for the job. Your favorite grey t-shirt was much more comfortable to wear. Shoving the polo into your backpack, you left the bathrooms and headed for the front, snatching up a Red Bull as you’re about to leave.

    “I thought you didn’t have a date,” your coworker snorted from behind the counter.

    “What?” you said, brows furrowed, and he gestured his head toward the front of the store. His thumbs continued tapping the screen of his phone as you left.

    Stationed directly in the middle of the lot was a jet black motorcycle, glinting in the evening sunlight. Leaning against the seat was none other than Rosé herself, arms crossed and not without that signature smile you were growing to love. You didn’t move as you gazed over her, marvelling at how she could ride a motorcycle when wearing a skirt that mimicked a school-girl uniform. You pushed away accompanying dirty thoughts at the skirt, resisting the blush threatening your face. She had to be waiting for you.

    “Got any plans this evening?” Rosé uncannily repeated the same question your coworker had asked you.

    “I’m guessing you already made them for me,” you said, walking just close enough to hear each other. You didn’t want to be that presumptuous, but again, there was no other reason for her to be here. If she wanted her special cigarettes, she would have just gone inside for them.

    “You guessed correct,” the red-blonde said, winking. Everything was her signature move, but it fucking worked. You weren’t able to stop the flashback of your prior self in the way you avoided her eyes, brushing away a bit of hair that wasn’t there. When you did look at her again, there was that amused but curious expression on her face, the same that she had when you told her you didn’t like her vice. As if she noticed something you did that she hadn’t quite chalked up.

    “C’mon, get a move on.” Rosé reached over to beside the back seat of her motorcycle, revealing another helmet that had been strapped to the side. She held it out for you, but you didn’t take it as you glanced at the vehicle. “What, never been on one before?”

    “Uhm... no.”

     This was the start of something different you wanted. Part of the reason you were so boring was because you didn’t take risks. Sitting here, wondering if Rosé really was bad for you, why you had never ridden a motorcycle --- it was time to just say fuck it.

    “First time for everything,” you hummed, smiling and accepting to helmet.

    Rosé gave a breathy laugh, shaking her head softly so that her gorgeous blonde hair flew across her face and gave you the desire to brush it away. “Just climb on up behind me.” You did as she said, trying not to seem as awkward as you were. It was surprisingly comfortable, the seat underneath you, but then you were faced with where to put your hands to keep steady. Rosé chuckled again, sitting forward now. “Just hold onto my waist. I promise I showered this morning.”

    Don’t say that, you internally groaned. The thought of Rosé, naked, probably with a banging body, and all wet had you on the fast track to hot and bothered. You were thankful for the helmet that you slid over your features, insulation gripping your head securely, able to hide the blooming blush. It didn’t help, however, that next, you had to actually hold onto her. The first time you would ever touch her. What a strange thing to think about, but it was true. The two of you hadn’t even shaken hands or hugged, yet, you were about to hold onto her as she drove you God knows where on a badass motorcycle.

    You placed your hands on her hips and swore you felt a spark ignite at the contact. The next thing you noticed was how remarkably slim her waist was, hidden underneath loose garb. All that was thrown aside the second she started up the vehicle, an aggressive rumbling vibrating you to the bone, the engine alive in your ears even through the safety of the helmet. It belonged to the same group of motorcycles you recognized that first night, and now you were given the chance to actually ride one of them. How quickly you had ended up here when it never occurred to you before.

    In front of you, Rosé held onto her helmet a second longer, turning a bit in her spot to look at you. The angle of her face, her profile, was stunning, and even if she asked if you were all ready and if you were okay, the most you could do was nod. There wasn’t much you could hear over the sound of the vehicle anyway. A flash of a smile, pretty white teeth for someone who smoked, and then she was tugging on her helmet. A hand gripped the throttle, giving it a twist and revving the engine, and you found your fingers curling into the material of her skirt. It rode up a bit on her thighs, and you were happy to see a bit of what appeared to be spandex, black, underneath. Happy, because it meant no one else would be getting a show. Why you felt so possessive, you had no clue.

    Your hands on her hips quickly became your arms wrapped around her as she peeled out of the parking lot. A scream stuck in your throat, too surprised to make a sound, as she cut across lanes of traffic, right past moving cars, and headed directly into the city. It was swiftly obvious that she was a practiced rider, weaving in and out of the lines with ease and fluidity. She didn’t seem to mind the fact you were pressed against her back now, arms clenched at her sides, hands balling up the lapels of her leather jacket. If you weren’t so scared, you would have paid more attention to the fact of how close you were, how warm she felt even through the clothes, and just how amazing this all was.

    No. Instead, you were praising anything that listened to you that she couldn’t see your face. How the fuck she was driving a motorcycle was lost on you. Your heart thudded dangerously against your ribcage each time she leaned a little to each side. She was so small against your frame that you worried you would break her, but she never once showed it disturbed her or her directing. She must have forgotten to tell you where to place your feet, but you managed to find the pedals, pressing your heels down so hard you feared you’d break them. They never gave, but your mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

    The dying light of the evening glared from behind, shining off the glass of the cars you passed and the buildings you soon became swamped in. Even within city limits, she hardly slowed. What about cops? Apparently, they didn’t matter. A yellow light, on the verge of red, meant that Rosé should speed up, and she did, narrowly avoiding a car turning the corner into the same lame. A horn blared at the back of your skull, but all it was drive a smile across your face.

    This was amazing.

    There was no keeping track of the streets or the landmarks that you passed. Rosé knew where she was going, and there was no telling her otherwise. You trusted her. That sudden revelation was jarring, but it was true. You trusted Rosé because she had never given you a reason not to. The lip of a manhole covering caused a slight bump in the ride, and your grip on her jacket slipped. The flat of your hand pressed against her stomach now, and you might just die of embarrassment at how intimate the touch was.

    A hand reached down to squeeze your thigh. She was checking on you, and your heart danced along to the jagged rhythm of her fingertips on the inside of your knee. You didn’t move your hand, allowing yourself this small pleasure. Underneath your palm, you felt subtle muscle flexing as she manuevered the streets. There was a certain art to driving a motorcycle you decided. And you liked it.

    Altogether too quickly, the drive came to an end. For once, Rosé slowed down, gliding into a dank alleyway. Dirty water sprayed up against the sides of a brick building and a battered wooden fence until you came upon a small lot. A few motorcycles not unlike Rosé’s, as well a car or two, sat in the space. Rosé came to a halt in a spot near the back door, and you forgot to take a look at the place you had arrived at, now that you were behind the establishment. It was a bit sketchy... a lot sketchy, but you didn’t entertain the idea that Rosé was about to murder you and dump you in a Dumpster.

    The blonde let her legs down to balance the motorcycle, hands releasing the handles to smooth down her skirt that had flown up around the top of her thighs during the ride. It was a habit that had been practiced many times. Even with a motorcycle, it didn’t seem that Rosé was going to give up wearing whatever she wanted.

    “How was it?” Rosé asked the second she removed her helmet. Her hair was in disarray, but it suited her, and just a run of her fingers through it had her looking wild and so god damn attractive.

    You pulled off your helmet, taking your first deep breath since you got on. But you couldn’t stop smiling, and even if you hadn’t said anything yet, she was gazing at you with something you couldn’t quite read in her eyes, and she laughed a wonderful sound.

    “C’mon, I’ll help you off,” she said, swinging artfully off her ride without letting it go and toppling you. She toed the kickstand, and then held out a hand for you. Butterflies swarmed your stomach and you swallowed them as you took her hand.

    Smooth skin, fingers tightening around you as she assisted you off the back. It was surprising to find that your legs were wobbly, jittery like you had one too many energy drinks. It was the adrenaline from the ride, and you laughed under your breath at how incredible it all was.

    “Seriously, did you like it?” she tried again, a brow lifted. Now you noticed the eagerness in her. She truly wanted to know if you had enjoyed yourself, or if she had made a mistake in taking you on a ride like that. Being honest, it was a bit too much too soon...

    “It was great,” you said despite yourself, lingering in her hand a moment longer before regrettably pulling away. Rosé grinned, and you would say anything to see her like that.

    She took your helmets and assured you they would be safe on her motorcycle, snapping the straps to the side like they had been before. “I have some people I’d like you to meet,” she said, opening the back door and waving for you to follow. It didn’t look too welcoming by the sight of the darkened portal, but again, you ignored your gut that told you to leave and instead followed her inside.

    As it turned out, it was a bar. You heard before you saw the pool tables, the cue clacking against the pool balls, ricocheting off the borders. A jukebox bleated out classic rock in a corner, and since it was still early, there weren’t too many patrons enjoying their pints of beer in various tables around the space. It was quite dark, lighting apparently not needed. Bare light bulbs hung from a strand along the moulding above the bar, the only real area you could comfortably see. The bar was stocked full, but upon closer inspection, there wasn’t anything you would get at some high-rise fancy club. Jack, Jim, and José had a monopoly here.

    Behind the counter, a girl with white blonde hair and blunt bangs looked up from absently wiping at her station, and a wide grin split her face. A glint of metal and you noticed the labret piercing on her bottom lip.

    “Rosé!” she greeted, her voice cute and light in comparison to the rag-tag bar. Eyes shifted over to you, and the smile melted into something more lecherous. “Who’s your hot date?”

    The hand that met the small of your back almost made you stumble.

    “This is Y/N, and yes, she’s my date,” Rosé emphasized, guiding you toward the girl at the bar. She gestured for a bar stool, and you thanked her under your breath, too out of place to act like you knew what you were doing. The bartender didn’t stop her speculation of you, eyes roaming over your face and what she could see of your body. “Y/N, this is Lisa, one of my close friends.”

    “Best friend, jerk,” Lisa corrected and glared over her shoulder, turning to grab a bottle of bourbon. Two tumblers were set on the bar counter, and she poured a generous amount of alcohol into each, sliding them forward. “On the house.”

    “You’re too kind,” Rosé mocked, smirking before taking her glass and throwing it back. It was like nothing to her, sliding down her throat, a throat you couldn’t help imagining kissing the length of now that it was exposed. Then she was setting the glass back down, settling into her seat next to. Your date, you remembered.

    It was a date.

    “Don’t like bourbon?” Lisa poked, leaning forward on crossed arms at you. She really was cute, in a roguish sort of way. There seemed to be a constant amusement to her expression, like everything was funny to her. Out of the friends of Rosé’s that you had met, you definitely liked Lisa the best.

    “Never tried it,” you admitted. With that, you reached forward and took the glass, trying a sip. It was fucking strong, and you pushed the back of your hand against your mouth to stop the cough desperate to escape. Lisa giggled, taking back the glass.

    “Here,” she said, dropping a couple ice cubes into it and then handing it back. “Let it sit, it’ll water it down so it won’t be too strong.” At Rosé, “I like her already.”

    “I know,” Rosé said to no one in particular, and you weren’t sure if the blush on your cheeks was from the strong alcohol on the back of your throat or the way Rosé had been talking about you since you arrived. Her bar stool whined slightly as she angled toward you. “You hungry? They have some great food here, if you like burgers and stuff like that.”

    “Yeah, I could eat.” A horse, you thought. You were starving, and your original plans entailed chowing down on some food not so lady like. Not that it would be a problem here. Behind you, you saw a couple guys throwing fries at each other, attempting to land them in open and waiting mouths. When they missed, raucous laughter filled the bar.

    It was a shock to the spine when you recognized one of the men in the back as the guy that had harassed you at the convenience store. Before he could see you staring, you turned back around. This was all going to be okay as long as he stayed as far as away as possible and you forgot all about his existence.

    Lisa saw it all, and she gave a curious glance toward the last tables to spot the guy. Then she rolled her eyes, leaning to you again with her chin propped on her hand. “That guy’s an idiot. Don’t worry about him, though --- he’s all bark and no bite.”

    “A lot of the guys here are,” Rosé chided, a new glass in hand. It didn’t look like she was going to throw this one back as quickly as the first.

    “A lot of them,” you mused. “But does that mean all of them?”

    At that, they both paused, and then Lisa shrugged noncommittally. “I mean, there has been a couple that have been arrested for one charge or another, not gonna lie. And I’ve had to break up more than my fair share of bar fights here.”

    “Hope I’m not here for one of those,” you muttered, sculling the ice cubes in your bourbon.

    “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to protect you,” Lisa purred, a hand crossing the bar to tickle along yours on your glass. You froze, not sure how to react. Lisa was beautiful, no other way to put it, but ---

    “I’m betting you didn’t think it would be from me,” Rosé ripped up the moment. Dare you say it sounded like she was on the brink of jealousy, and to prove your point, an arm slung around your shoulders, jarring you free of Lisa’s touch.

    Lisa’s laugh rang out pure and spirited, backing away from the bar. “Oh, shut up, Rosie. You know you’re my main girl. If only you had fallen for me!” She twirled behind the bar, her oversized leather bomber jacket billowing like a cape. You wanted to question what she meant by that, and then ask about why Rosé’s face had gone blank for a split second, but it was all blown over as Lisa grabbed a bottle of Jack and slammed it down on the bar, loud enough to grab everyone’s attention.

    “Shots on the house! If you don’t take one, you’re a motherfucking pussy!” she shouted.

    At once, anyone that had been in the bar was joining the din of loud voices and crowded around you at the counter. An elbow jabbed you in the ribs, hard enough to bruise, but Rosé was there to sidle you away. You were thankful for the hand that was on your hip, a finger hooked in your belt loop. Even when you were out of the mess of rowdy drinkers ready for their shots, Rosé didn’t let go. You chanced a glance at her, and the eyes that stared back said so much at once that you couldn’t read it at all.

    “You two! Take your shots!” Lisa snapped at you, shot glasses of amber liquid sliding and spilling toward you.

    “Jennie is going to kill you!” Rosé called with a mischievous smile. Lisa shrugged, and then upended the bottle over a thug’s open mouth.

    “Cheers,” Rosé said softly to you. You took the shot, clinking it against hers, and didn’t break eye contact until you were forced to tilt your head back, hoping it would go down easy.

   Now you knew why the bar was so dark.

   Your vision swam, a giddy smile on your face that you couldn’t shake. Just looking at the lights above the bar ached, an indication of the hangover you’d have to deal with tomorrow.

   Rosé leaned over the edge of the pool table, skirt hiking up so you could openly stare at the smooth expanse of her thighs. You wanted to know what else lied beneath it.

   “Motherfucker!” Rosé’s opponent swore angrily, throwing her cue stick against the wall. You laughed whereas you might’ve jumped at the noise. Rosé sunk her last two stripes in one fell swoop, miraculous for how much she had drank. Except, you couldn’t tell how much she had drank. You thought you had kept up pretty well with her, yet, she didn’t behave nowhere near as drunk as you. No stumbling, no slurred words, and that perfect smirk that drew up just one corner of her plump lips. Lips that you wanted to kiss and bite and ---

   “Hey!” You spun around on your stool to the voice behind you at the bar. A little too quickly but you didn’t fall off at least.

   Lisa had a guy by the collar of his jacket, yanked over the bar so that he was off kiltered. An expression you hadn’t seen all night on her face, she growled something at him that you couldn’t hear. It took you a couple seconds to catch up, and then your smile faltered. It was that guy from the store, and his dark eyes flitted to the side. At you.

   Someone touched your arm, and you started in your seat unexpectedly. It was only Rosé, brows knitted in concern. She glanced between you and Lisa with the guy, who then jerked away from her grasp. A roll of his shoulder to fix his disheveled clothes, he smirked at you, winking. It was a wink that you did not appreciate, unlike Rosé and Lisa.

   “Time to leave,” Rosé scowled, taking you by the elbow and lifting you out of your seat. The bar swayed in your head, and you had to grab onto her to stay steady. She said something but you missed it, clutching her shirt.

   “What’s the matter?” the guy spat, arms out like he wanted a fight or something. He took a step forward, and you cowered against Rosé. So much for that confidence you had lately. “Someone a lil’ tipsy? Need someone to take real good care of you for the night?” There was a gross gesture that you looked away from, not wanting to become sick from it.

   “Shut the fuck up, Jason,” Rosé barked. The tone was one you didn’t like, and didn’t want to hear again from her. “Go have another drink and black out in a ditch somewhere.”

   Rosé didn’t wait for a response, dragging you out the back. It happened too quickly, and you passed the threshold into the dark lot, a single streetlamp providing weak light, then tripped. Rosé caught you effortlessly, hoisting you back onto your feet. Her arms felt like they were everywhere on you, and normally, you would have been thrilled. If you weren’t so drunk, and if someone guy hadn’t just propositioned you.

   Somehow, you were placed on the back of the motorcycle. Rosé situated herself in front of you, and without your inhibitions, you didn’t care that you pushed all your weight on her back. But she didn’t even bow beneath you, sturdy and grounding you. She asked you something about an address, the words fluttering through one ear and out the other. Your mouth moved on her jacket, the faint taste of leather on your tongue. It was wet out, you could feel it clinging to your skin. When the motorcycle started up, it was much farther away than you expected it to be. Shouldn’t it be louder? A hand seized yours, drawing them around Rosé’s body, and then you felt skin. Soft, warm skin against your fingertips. You couldn’t move your hands very well, just your fingers against her skin, and what felt like an elastic band. In the back of your mind, you knew you had voluntarily slid your hands down the front of her skirt, just a little.

   The ground gave way, and you clenched your eyes shut. You were moving too fast, and it was all too much to comprehend.

   It was very dark.

♡ part ii.

[doedipus]

LP D&D: Your Reward is the Satisfaction of a Job Well Done

Between sessions, Ludovik and Rich’s longstanding rivalry came to a head, and Ludovik decided to leave. Thankfully, the group was able to work things out like adults, and the separation happened pretty cleanly. To this day, I don’t really get what was going on between them, but I guess everything worked itself out in the end, so whatever. I’m just glad the saga didn’t turn into the kind of clusterfuck people on /tg/ like to talk about.

At the beginning of the session, Rap was playing around with a voice changer for whatever reason. Apparently, one of the presets sounded enough like me that nobody could tell the difference. Am I truly a unique person, with my own wants and needs, or am I some sort of construct off an assembly line, an excitation in the Kim field no different than any other? Is there some hidden land of Kims deep in the woods, where we could find solace from the often terrifying and confusing non-Kim world, free to swear like sailors, nurse our wounds, and watch Neil Breen movies long into the night? 

...Uh, that took a weird turn. Content under the break.

Merrow thanks the party for saving his life

Hier is arrested

Graham lays hands on Esmeralda

Nudge nudge, wink wink

Coy attempts to locate the body of the gnoll shaman, but is unable to

Coy retrieves a handful of the coins the sisters use to communicate

Escrima and Graham try and retrieve some lost equipment

The ship and estate are on fire, so the gang decides to bounce

They make it back home without incident

Lucas wants barkeep to get him the strongest drink on the multiverse

Coy goes to say hi to Akim

Akim thinks the explosions are the hypest

Coy wishes him a happy birthday

Akim thinks her hugs are better now

The players think about that too much

Graham hangs out with Frederick, his squire

He breaks the news of Osric’s death

Graham declares himself “duke”

Fred reminds him that “those of the fairer sex” aren’t in the line of succession

Graham suggests they consider his uncle, then

The alcohol is strong, and everyone is completely smashed

Except Coy, since she was away for the first round

“Did I ever tell you about the time I rescued Esmeralda from a dragon?”

Coy orders a round of coffee for the party so they can sober up

And then orders a round for herself

She’s a little buzzed, but not like the others

“Coy, I love you, I don’t care what your hair looks like, I don’t care if you cut your hair, you’re a beautiful butterfly... creature...”

Greg has a personal crisis

He starts his routine in the pond

GregnLucas ERP in the pond

Coy pulls them out so they don’t drown

Connie has an epic battle with the stairs, and loses

The next morning afternoon, the party wakes up, and is hungover

Except Graham, because paladin or something

Thankfully, Rocky keeps potions of restoration in the attic

Coy stays in “bed” for some short rests

There’s some mail

One letter is from Rolen

He says that the hallucinations he’d been having have gotten to be too much, and he is heading to mithril hall to search for his ex //Honestly, the most disappointing thing about the whole OOC situation was that we never got to figure out what that stomach spider bullshit was going to go

One is for Coy

That will she altered turns up. Apparently she’s owed some inheritance. The attorneys want her to drop in //During the vampire subplot, Coy found some victims dead in their apartment. She also found their will, and wrote herself in

One is from the sheriff’s office, for Lucas

They are grateful for our help

They’ve found out what happened to his brother

Lucas runs off to check it out

Graham gets a letter from Merrow

It’s about Hier’s trial

Hey Coy, what’s that in your pocket? //Coy stole a pendant off a noble later revealed to be Merrow a couple sessions back for no particular reason

Is that Merrow’s?

Coy says she’ll commit seppuku before telling

It might be a good idea to get it back to him somehow

Connie gets a letter too

It’s from her parents, Ida & Ingo Cooper

It’s been circulating for a while

Ingo has died. Ida wants her to come to the funeral. It’s in Neverwinter

Apparently, they’re waiting for her to get there

Lucas goes to Castle Waterdeep

On the broom

He’s broken a law, is he stupid?

But I saved the ci-

WATERDEEP IS A CITY OF LAWS, NOT OF MEN

Lucas tries to rules-lawyer his way out of a 500 gp fine

WATERDEEP IS A CITY OF LAWS, NOT OF MEN

Saving cops isn’t worth edgyLucas’ time

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WRrAeQqVs8

The gang catches up to him

Graham asks for a copy of the paperwork

Coy tries to steal the money back

Despite a poor sleight of hand roll, she gets 800 gp

Graham and Lucas have a brief heart-to-heart

They’re the only original party members left

Coy totally didn’t steal that money back

She becomes inspired again

She gets pissed at Lucas for fucking up pronouns

Before they get to the sheriff’s office, they pass by the attorney’s office

Coy decides to pop in

She says something offensive to the gnomes that work there about their tiny baby arms

Coy signs some paperwork, and obtains a winery estate, and a house.

Winery is in Baldur’s Gate

House is in Waterdeep

They arrive at the castle

Vigo is happy to see the gang

He has a report on Lucas’ brother.

He was wounded in the raid of Mossstone

He was later redeployed to the front lines again

Apparently the sisters’ army has sacked Athkatla

Lucas wants a flying license

It’s 1000 gp

Gotta take tests and stuff

Lucas no longer wants a flying license

The gang remembers that they only have like 5kgp, and decide to confront Rockseeker about it

Rocky congratulates us of our victory

But he reminds us that they remain a threat

He predicts that they will throw everything they have against the city soon

Connie tells Rocky about the coins //Soldiers in the Sisters’ army carry coins that their superiors communicate through

Apparently, they’re stones of sending

Rocky says they’re short range only. Lame!

He says he can reset them to work for the party, so that’s cool

He tells us that we’re to participate in the trial of Lord Hier, and shouldn’t leave town yet

Lucas wants cash

Rocky is reluctant to pay up

He points us towards Merrow

Lucas breaks the news of Gandalf’s death to the party

Lucas says that he killed him

Necromancy, torture, I had to do it, pushed into lava

Angered with their lack of compensation, the gang decides to go see Merrow

Of course we have an appointment! Who do you take us for?!

Someone who doesn’t have an appointment, duh

Graham just tells the guards who we are

The guards are “a little bit pissed off, having to like, do things”

Merrow’s assistant says he’s busy, and we should wait a while

The anteroom is pretty nice, though, so it’s okay

Coffee and pastries are served

He wants a DEAL

Connie gets promoted to LORD OF WATERDEEP HOLY SHIT

Representing Athkatla, of course

You know, since she’s been a lord from there for like two weeks

Merrow offers us 500 gp

He wants Graham to serve as a judge during Hier’s trial

Merrow assures Lucas that the matter of Beydale will be addressed soon

Kim reminds the party about the black shield of blackness //A suspicious magic item from before my time.

It’s a +3 shield! Holy cow!

PVP!

Coy is brandishing her sword, and accidentally makes a swing at Lucas

It goes straight through Lucas’ leg

He pulls it out, spraying leg viscera all over the ground

Lucas cures wounds

He’s not giving the sword back

Shopping ensues

As per usual, the party gets in a fight with a shopkeeper for not having good enough wares //We should’ve waited until Connie could go the the dark assembly the Waterdeep city council meeting to pass a “more expensive stuff” bill

Max wants to learn minor illusion, and JP says it’s gonna be tough

Connie goes to get her clothes fixed.

It’s gonna be a week

The gang visits Coy’s new house

It’s a little bit of a wreck

The bed’s still gross

Coy wants to set Akim up there with a tutor/nanny

He’s looking for Julie Andrews

Or Dick Van Dyke

Probably that guy

She spends a few days looking for a suitable caretaker

Coy leaves him in Waterdeep with Rich, the tutor

Akim is ecstatic about the house

He gets his own room!

He can store all his toys

Like his ragdoll, and, uh,

That’s kind of it, actually

It’s name is “Alfie”

Coy thinks about getting him some new toys

“Will you be my mom, Coy”

Coy gives him a noncommittal answer

Rich the tutor gets 7 gp per month

Coy decides to take the displacer cub with her to train

Akim is devastated

Constanza sends a letter back to her folks detailing her situation

She also summons Paz, the slithering metal gear reference //It’s a tsuchinoko

During the ritual, she has a vision of her parents finding her as a baby, and also some commotion

Lucas and Graham resume shopping

Lucas orders a suit of medium armor with Graham’s help

They head to a jeweler next, to look for a decent wedding/engagement/whatever ring for LucasnGreg

Coy gets some daggers/throwing knives

Graham goes looking for a bag of holding

A shady street vendor approaches him

It’s 1kgp

It’s covered in blood

Graham doesn’t want to know where he got it from

He buys it, and the guy runs off

Coy goes to sell the shield

The shopkeeper isn’t buying that the shield is magical

Coy offers to demonstrate it

The shopkeeper is convinced, and pays 300 gp

Lucas wants some Lupe venom

Escrima is gatekeeping her “precious fluids”

They get half a vial of venom

Graham attunes to the shield

Lucas tests out sending to talk to everyone he knows

He gets no reply from his parents

He recalls that Baldur’s Gate uses anti-magic materials in prisons. Oh no!

His brother and his buddy are okay, though

Lucas teaches Coy minor illusion, in exchange for more draconic later

Coy gives Akim a hand crossbow. It’s giant and dangerous

The warehouse roof is finished //We wanted to have the roof of Lupe’s hangar open on the off chance we could use her for something

As are the other orders we placed

Summons for Hier’s trial arrives

Items are recovered from Rolen’s room

Connie is to be at peaktop aerie at midnight for confirmation as a lady of waterdeep

Connie asks the whole party to accompany her

Merrow arrives in a carriage to take the party to the aerie

Merrow reminds the party that only the lords are supposed to speak

But they can appoint an assistant that can whisper to the lord

She appoints Graham

Apparently, Rocky is a lord. This surprises nobody

A lord asks where Catarina is

A nat 20 convinces them that she’s not full of crap //In-universe, “Catarina” is a kingdom in a children’s book Connie used to like. “Constanza de Catarina” is not actually her given name. She just made it up because it sounded cool and foreign.

They seem to like that the party saved Amswater

All except one lord vote to confirm

What a bitch!

Connie suggests they move to retake Beydale

Some lords agree

Rockseeker throws some shade over the sisters of dawn incident

If the army secures Esmeralton, they’ll move for Beydale

Other topics of discussion include

Increase the number of garbage collectors

A motion to increase taxes on magic shops gets shot down

50k soldiers are to be drafted to the war in the south

Merrow talks about Hier’s trial

Meetings are monthly, but not mandatory

The party gets some winter clothes

During the week, Escrima handled Lupe. She seems trained!

Greg is grateful for Connie’s assistance at the council meeting

He’s also disappointed that Lucas is gonna have to leave again

Lucas suggests that he try and pick up bard-ing

The gang gets a message from Narcovi saying that they couldn’t find crazy eyes’ body

Jake had moving stuff to do, so the session was called there.

[iheartsurveys]

94

What’s your favorite cereal? None I hate cereal Is there a bus stop near your house? The grade school bus stop is around the corner but otherwise, no Do you prefer red wine or white wine? White, though I do love me some red moscato. But I definitely drink more of a variety of white What’s the last airport you were at? Why were you there? Dulles, dropping off my stepdad's mom and boyfriend like the helpful little gal I am Who do you live with? Mom and stepdad and the pets Do you read reddit? If so, how often and what subreddits do you like? Nah not regularly. Every once in a while if I google something and it takes me to Reddit I'll read that but I don't go out of my way to read it Have you recently broken up with a significant other or even just a friend? No What’s the weather like today? Is it nice enough to go outside? It snowed about an inch this morning and then it was chilly the rest of the day. I went out to scrape off the car but had to bundle since the high was like 20 something. Then on Friday its going to be in the 60s....oh Virginia weather. Oh global warming. Do you know anyone who’s had a baby recently? Stepsister had baby #3 a few days ago Have you used a pen or pencil today? What did you write down? No What does your last text message say and who is from? Nite, from my mother, one room away from me. She had to vent real quick lol Can you count how many times you’ve seen your favourite film? Not an extreme amount for it being my favorite movie. Maybe 4 or 5? When was the last time you ate marshmallows? I never eat them on their own. Probably had a smore sometime over the summer Do you listen to any podcasts? How do you listen to them? Nah not really. Sophomore of college my roomie and I got into nightvale but then we kinda fell off the wagon. How old will you be in the year 2030? 36...... Wow. 2030 sounds like a while away so I won't get too worried just yet. But also damn. Does your skin bruise easily? Do you have any bruises right now? What from? Yes anytime I accidentally bang into things I'll get a bruise. Or if the dogs stand on me which Daisy loves to do because she has no concept of personal space and just sits/stands in my lap. And she's not even small like she's a decently sized lab. Dogs are funny. Buuuut I don't have any currently actually, at least not that I know of What was the last thing you spent $150 or more on? Loans woo Do you prefer yes or no questions or more open-ended questions? Open-ended, for surveys at least What brand of toilet paper do you usually buy? My parents buy Scott and have forever but when I lived by campus I think I bought charmin If I knocked on your door right now, would you be acceptable dressed? Not wearing pants so no, not a good look for answering the door to a stranger, or anyone at all really lol Why did you leave your last job? At first I was just going to do it in the summer but then I tried to maintain it while doing my last year of college and I only lasted about 2 months until I decided I couldn't do both and school/having time to study/just time to myself was more important than a job that was just to fill the time/make some extra money What colour were the last socks you wore? Blue green and pink Are you studying currently? What level of education and what do you study? Just graduated, I have a BS in criminology Have you ever eaten at a restaurant and left without paying? No What was the last thing that made you laugh out loud? The text from my mom What’s your favourite scent of air freshener? I use candles more than I use air fresheners... I buy my candles based off the seasons/what I like at bath and body. I like fruity/floral scents but like not too too sweet. Like I'll never buy sugar cookie or anything like that How many weddings have you ever been to? At least 4... I haven't been to a wedding in like 10 years. I have a bunch of older cousins so that's where most came from. Oh jk 5 my mom got remarried duh Do you know anyone named Nora? No Are your hands and feet in good condition or could you do with a mani-pedi? Definitely could use a pedi though I hate going to the nail salon. And my nails could be repainted When was the last time you played a board game? What did you play? Christmas Eve we played scrabble How old were you when you first became sexually active? 18 Have you ever been to a festival for beer or other type of alcohol? Yessss I've been to a cider fest which was awesome. And then another festival that had a mix of beer cider and wine Do you own a record player and/or vinyls? Nooo I wanted a record player for Christmas but then I rethought it because I don't really have room for it currently, so maybe some day when I have my own place/feel like spending money on that When was the last time you went out for drinks? Like two weeks ago Have you ever been to a strip club? No Do you know anyone with a ‘virtue name’? I know a Faith and a Grace Would you ever wear real authentic leather? I have a leather purse from Italy so yes Have you taken out the trash today? No How often do you wear make-up? I don't really have a schedule for wearing makeup. I'll wear it if I'm going out or doing something fun with friends where I know we'll take pictures. And I'll wear it to work. But a lot of times at home I don't, even if we go out to dinner or run errands or something I don't. And yet my skin is still kinda meh, go figure What’s your opinion on The Simpsons? Never really watched it Do you prefer horizontal or vertical stripes? Horizontal Do you know anyone who has been through a divorce? Yes If you had the money, would you take taxis everywhere instead of driving? Nope I like to drive tbh Have you ever done a juice cleanse? Nah not for me Do you have any friends who you can’t decide if they’re attractive or not? Omg what a weird and kinda mean thing to think about friends...wondering if they're attractive or not like wtf who does that. No Is the inside of your fridge clean right now or does it need a clean out? It could probably use a clean out When was the last time you washed the dishes? Earlier today Are there any magazines that you read on a regular basis? We just started getting hgtv magazine which comes monthly so that Do you have to pay for parking in most places in the town/city you live in? No What’s the first thing you tend to do when you have a headache? I swear I never get regular headaches anymore they're almost always migraines. I take medicine daily for migraines but I also have medicine to take when I get one because Advil/excedrin doesn't do shit for me Tell me about your responsibilities at work. Ask me laterrrrr Can you hear lots of traffic from your house? Does it bother you? We live a little ways off a main road, sometimes if people drive like assholes and speed or if an ambulance goes by on the main road you can hear it here. We're in a cul-de-sac so there's no real traffic on our road, but what is annoying is the guy diagonally across the street has a motorcycle and its loud and obnoxious Have you ever had proper Canadian poutine with the squeaky cheese? I have not. I've even been to Canada but we didn't get poutine Do your parents know how to operate smartphones and/or computers? They're decent. They definitely ask me for assistance with things How old are your parents, anyway? Both 51. And my stepdad is like 49 I wanna say Are you allergic to anything? What do you have to do to prevent them? Allergies. I'll take an Allegra or something if they're really bad but I mainly just deal What song is stuck in your head at the moment? This is mildly embarrassing...So you know the episode of spongebob where he has the pet jellyfish that likes to dance and then the speakers get fucked up after some things happen so all the jellyfish are pissed and then Gary starts hitting his eyeballs together and then they make a song out of random sounds? That song of random sounds is stuck in my head lolololllll. Since today was snowy and blah I napped and my fav thing to nap to is spongebob and that episode was on and yeah. It's stuck in my head What’s your boss’ first name? Do you call him/her by that name? My work has different divisions and teams and I'm not sure yet what specific team I'll be on so tbd When was the last time you wore a uniform of any kind? What colour was it? When I worked at a restaurant early in college we wore black shirts jeans and black shoes. Or a red shirt if I was hosting Did you complete a survey before taking this one? Will you take one after? No and no Have you ever lost enough weight to drop a dress size? Maybe? Idk I don't wear a lot of dresses. I've dropped pant sizes so maybe I'm not sure What’s your favourite kind of bread? Every kind I love bread When was the last time you got pizza? What toppings did you get? We had pizza a few days ago, just cheese Do you own Monopoly? Is it the original or a special version? I don't actually What was the last thing you said out loud? Goodnight You have to choose one: cats or dogs? Dogs How do you travel to and from work? I'll be driving Do you primarily use cash or card for your purchases? Why? Card because I don't carry cash unless I got some for a holiday. Or sometimes I'll take out a 20 for when I go out Have you ever been to a stadium concert? Yes, the last two times I saw one direction were at stadiums. And I've seen a bunch of other artists at indoor arena/stadium things like Ed Sheeran, fall out boy, backstreet boys, etc

[michellelewis7162]

Mushroom Developing

Mushroom Developing

 There is a large variation between the farming or expanding of green plants and also mushroom increasing. While the eco-friendly vegetations are actually furnished along with chlorophyll for acquiring the nutrients they need for development, mushrooms do certainly not have chlorophyll which has actually made it compelling for them to get their food with dependence on various other vegetation components. The text of the mushroom is actually comprised of the mycelium which is actually the little bit of threads which increase on the plant product (the substrate) through which they get their needed nutrients. Mushrooms are actually recognized to flourish on different plant materials.

 It is actually sensible that who is actually planning on entering into the developing of mushroom needs to recognize rather regarding the fungi life process. Defined listed below are things that will definitely aid one planning to go into mushroom increasing to recognize the many things he or she requires to be prosperous in the venture of mushroom farming Magic Mushrooms Dispensary. Buy Shrooms Online Canada

 As quickly as one attains a common knowledge involving the different fungi life cycles, the person will definitely after that proceed to understanding the needs required for the growth and well being actually of any of the species of mushrooms the person is actually preferring to increase. Outdoors mushroom developing in the form of a yard is actually one that needs incredibly little attempt once the individual has provided the ideal inoculation to the records or even any other materials with mushroom give rise to. The only work left for the person to accomplish is actually noting the humidity as well as additionally overseeing the mushroom generate in terms of fruiting. As quickly as the mushrooms seem reasonably, they are actually after that picked and also offered.

 There is likewise the inside mushroom increasing which has a tendency to fill out any area left behind due to the outsides mushroom developing. Every procedure that pertains to planting mushroom is actually executed inside. It actually gives excellent end results however this is actually completely reliant upon the individual's knowledge, endless guidance and also appropriate management of the whether ailments.

 In mushroom growing, the complying with actions are actually taken and it could last for up to fifteen full weeks or even lesser relying entirely on those specie of mushroom being actually developed.

 First of all, one needs to select the tool through which the mushrooms will definitely be actually grown, sanitizing the decided on tool of cultivation, inoculating the decided on channel along with mushroom generate, preserving the very best possible temp, dampness as well as other setting that will certainly not prevent the development of the mycelium and also help to a wonderful degree in the mushroom spawn making great fruit products, accumulating or picking of the mushrooms, packing and also sales of the accumulated mushrooms, clean of the growing location and also resumption of another period of mushroom farming Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 How to Grow Mushrooms From Mushroom Growing Kits

 Mushroom packages have in fact had a decent volume of flak in recent times with numerous movie critics claiming that they offer really unsatisfactory worth for loan when matching up the turnouts of the mushroom kits with the true price of the mushrooms in the stores. I find this an incredibly unjust contrast and feel that it is wrong to merely review the 2 with the quantity of mushrooms that they generate.

 You can get mushroom increasing sets for only a few different types of mushroom - you can obtain button mushroom increase kits as well as you may obtain oyster mushroom increase packages. These two are the best usual and could be purchased at most yard centers and commonly on landscape center web sites. You can easily also increase other ranges coming from additional expert web sites, permitting you to increase your very own mushrooms like Shiitake, Portobello and even more. These sets commonly cost around ₤ 5 to ₤ 10 as well as are going to most likely supply you along with around ₤ 5 worth of mushrooms (if increased in the most effective possible atmosphere, and depending on the selection as some mushrooms cost even more then others in the outlets) Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 When it costs additional to purchase a mushroom growing set after that it does to buy the mushrooms on their own, I don't understand why people moan. The majority of the food store mushrooms are developed enormously in bulk and also are commonly expanded in other nations and also imported around, where it is a great deal more affordable for them to increase them. At that point theres the truth that in a kit you receive a package as well as receive the substrate (garden compost or even straw) along with a little bag of give rise to. When you buy mushrooms coming from a store you may not be left behind over along with great garden compost for your landscape (mushroom garden compost is one of the absolute most nutritious as well as pricey types of compost as the mushrooms break as well as recycle several nutrients current in the substrate). And after that there is actually the fact that you are actually growing mushrooms your own self - undoubtedly the exhilaration as well as exciting factor deserve spending for also.

 In my viewpoint mushroom developing sets are a great means of growing your personal mushrooms as well as even though occasionally they don't provide outstanding worth for cash when matched up to the outlet price you will find out so much coming from performing it yourself and also will possibly take wonderful pleasure in growing and then consuming your very own mushrooms. Perhaps even once you've found out a little a lot more about cultivating mushrooms you could remove the intermediary and find your own substrate (straw, newspaper, manure) and also get or produce your very own mushroom give rise to. This is actually where you may obtain real worth for money as well, increasing numerous pounds worth of mushroom coming from actually a couple of pounds expenditure Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 The Magical Mushroom

 Mycology, the research study of mushrooms, is carrying new fans to the 'fungus amongst us." Presently being used for a range of health care causes around the globe, the modest toadstool may be actually propelled right into the limelight quickly as a prosperous, alternative treatment for some persistent imbalances.

 Mushrooms are valued through vegetarians as a result of their high nutritional value.They are able to produce vitamin D when revealed to sun light. Mushrooms include B vitamins, vitamin C, potassium, phosphorus, salt, zinc, and also calcium mineral.

 Medical mushrooms have thousands of compounds as well as nutrients that are actually health-strengthening. Eastern medication, especially traditional Chinese process, has actually made use of mushrooms for centuries. In the U.S., researches were conducted in the early '60s for possible ways to regulate the body immune system and to hinder harmful cyst development along with removes Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 Mushroom seeking is actually well-liked, but it is actually certainly not secure. Some eatable mushrooms are actually just about similar to toxin ones. It takes a pro to tell the difference. Mushrooms behave like a sponge and also easily take in poisonous substances coming from dirt and air. Mushrooms are simply taken into consideration a 'health meals.'

 Without the method of photosynthesis, some mushrooms secure nutrients by malfunctioning raw material or by feeding coming from greater plants. An additional industry attacks living vegetations to consume them. Edible and also poisonous assortments are actually located near origins of oak, pine and fir trees.

 Mushrooms were utilized ritually due to the locals of Mesoamerica for hundreds of years. They were actually largely consumed in theological services through lifestyles throughout the Americas. Cave art work in Spain represent ritualized ingestion going back as far as 9000 years. Psilocybin usage was subdued up until Western psychiatry found it after World War II.

 The debatable place of research study is the use of psilocybin, a normally occurring chemical in particular mushrooms. Psilocybin has actually been actually shown to become successful in alleviating dependency to alcoholic drinks as well as cigarettes.

 New researches show the psychedelic medicine might eliminate stress and anxiety in some cancer cells clients. State of mind raising results that lasted at the very least a number of full weeks after taking in the fungus were stated in some researches.

 While fungi has fascinated individuals for centuries, it might ultimately be entering a brand-new age where its recuperation energies as well as unfamiliar premiums are being actually found. The mushroom could extremely well keep the secret to some far back secured conditions and also enigmas.

 Perform you would like to develop top quality shiitake mushrooms for your local business? You may possess nutritious enhancement to your selection if you fruit product your logs. These sophisticated, fleshy fungis can incorporate a great tasting contact to your dishes. The flavor you will definitely get will definitely exceed every other recipe that makes use various other sort of mushrooms. You may also always keep these clean shiitakes in the refrigerator for two to three full weeks. Even if they run out, they will recover their original structure if you soak all of them in water. The process of paling and after that freezing will certainly assist in always keeping the shiitakes in functional situation for numerous months.

 Beginning your company with these suggestions

 You might be evaluating over the idea of right now starting your cultivation. You may also believe of starting your personal organisation on a little incrustation if you have a fruitful creation. Buy mushroom logs to buy coming from renowned distributors and also acquire a clean supply of mushrooms. Find out a few of the simple tips to ensure you can find yourself with a nourishing turnout Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 1. Regular upkeep

 You ought to buy mushroom logs up for sale from the marketplace as well as take adequate steps to sustain all of them frequently. These parts could be always kept well-balanced through soaking all of them after a gap of 2 weeks. For this function, you ought to use simply non-chlorinated water. The resources may be actually filtered, bottled or even rainwater.

 2. Living microorganism

 You need to recognize the truth that the log you are actually handling is actually a living entity. Air, water, as well as sunshine are actually the components necessary for the development of mycelium. You can easily always oblige fruit product your log after a gap of pair of months. This objective may be achieved through saturating those blocks in non- chlorinated water for a whole entire time. These will lead the chunks to feel that the springtime or even the autumn time is actually simply close.

 3. Kinds of lumbers

 The blocks which work ideal are oaks, ironwood, challenging maple and also delightful gum tissue. You can easily acquire faster results by using lighter hard woods. They are actually certainly not that long lasting contrasted to denser styles. The presence of fungicidal resins helps make softwoods unsuitable for mushroom growing. You can regularly rely on a trustworthy provider for providing you with the ideal option of logs.

 4. Industrial drivers

 The industrial drivers are actually professionals who make logs by producing all of them pass through several temperature environments and also submersing them in cool water at suitable periods. The most ideal premium pieces are supplied to the ranches and local businesses.

 5. Various aspects possessing an influence

 You can easily enjoy cultivating clean mushrooms for 4 years or two if you take appropriate care of your logs. The elements that have an influence on the fruiting of the logs are actually the amount of wetness, amount of sunshine and appropriate temperature. You should always remember that a well-rested log makes one of the most reliable results.

 Developing Button Mushrooms Using a Mushroom Growing Kit

 The button mushroom, or even Agaricus Bisporus, is just one of the best grown mushrooms around the world. In the wild this mushroom seems in areas and possesses a darker, brown hat along with darker gills also. They are actually understood in the wild as industry mushrooms however they are actually generally tagged as the button mushroom or the Portobello mushroom, although the Portobello species are actually commonly much larger in size.

 Mushroom increasing packages have ended up being significantly preferred in recent years as everyone point of view and beliefs towards fungis seems to have kicked back a little bit of - no longer are folks terrified of mushrooms and also as an alternative are actually prepared to have a go as well as try at growing their very own at home Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 Mushroom develop packages are actually restricted in fungis varieties currently (I've just viewed switch, Shiitake as well as Oyster increase packages), the button mushroom is by far the most commonly on call expand package. Many gardening stores market mushroom expanding sets, and also these establishments seem to pay attention to the most popular, taken into consideration as being actually "safer" mushrooms - the Button mushroom.

 The Button mushroom increase sets are actually incredibly straightforward to make use of, even a little one might effectively increase their very own plant of mushrooms in merely a handful of full weeks! You merely need to clear the substratum right into a compartment as well as leave in an awesome moist spot till the mycelium increases totally with the block (transforming it white colored) and then cover it with the examining compost offered. Move it right into a cooler location as well as spray with water on a regular basis to keep damp. Little white rounded blobs will appear which will turn into mushrooms after simply a couple of days.

 The Secrets to Mushroom Growing

 Undoubtedly if you are a mushroom fanatic, you need to know exactly how to increase mushrooms. Typically, you would certainly wonder about mushrooms.That is perfectly ordinary. It will to no surprise if experienced mushroom eaters would want to expand their very own mushrooms. Mushrooms are great sources of protein.

 In contrast to the common knowledge that mushroom expanding will require a massive quantity of abilities and also a focused type of approach in developing these little gems, mushrooms are actually the no-frills kind. JUST AS LONG AS their food items is given plus all the needed requirements are reached, all the producer has to perform is to hang around till it is opportunity for produce. Correct, when you live in the country side, you can expand as several as you can. Because you stay in the urban area carries out certainly not suggest you might certainly not be capable to increase your very own mushroom backyard, only. So long as you possess the area, your tool and also some spores, you can make mushrooms through batches. Identical to the country side, you generally permitted them be actually, Making sure that they possess substantial food items to eat and moisture as well as the temperature is actually only enough, your mushrooms will definitely put like little bit of white colored globs on your medium right just before your eyes!

 Did you recognize that the tip to expanding mushrooms is certainly not an excellent secret? Probably when you talk to a mushroom gardener what the technique to an excellent tasting mushroom is actually, all he answers is a countenance his face. Possibly you could conclude that it has to be actually a long-kept technique that only a handful need to know.A handful, alright. But the secret is certainly not really that fantastic Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 Are you curious what that is? All you need to possess is actually to give rise to or even have spores when you want to increase excellent mushrooms. You don't need to deal with it either. Do not think about this as some unique plant that has some special needs. Ever before been aware of the words "Popping up like mushrooms along the railway"? Effectively, that is actually essentially it. Mushrooms actually merely appear.

 Other than spores and also the sort, what do mushrooms need to have?

 For sure, mushrooms carry out not require lightweight thus better keep them somewhere where lighting may certainly not trickle via like in a closed container. An additional significant element to keep in mind is actually the temperature level. You need to have a steady one. Attempt not to get to 50-600F at this point.Be certain that you always keep the dampness degree constant. You don't desire to have perished -looking mushrooms.

 These are actually the demands, or even need to our experts claim, the trick to mushroom increasing. As you might have observed now that the trick performs not include some odd concoction or even anything; somewhat, the trick is about having the ideal mixture of all the discussed factors. Once you receive the best formula for a certain mushroom varieties, your project will grow exponentially.

 Outdoors mushroom growing in the type of a garden is one that calls for incredibly little bit of effort once the individual has actually provided the necessary vaccination to the records or any various other components along with mushroom generate. You can easily acquire mushroom expanding sets for merely a handful of various varieties of mushroom - you may obtain button mushroom increase kits and also you may receive oyster mushroom expand packages. When you get mushrooms coming from a store you may not be left behind over with exceptional compost for your garden (mushroom garden compost is one of the very most expensive as well as healthy types of garden compost as the mushrooms break down and also reuse lots of nutrients found in the substratum). In my point of view mushroom increasing sets are an exceptional technique of developing your own mushrooms and also if often they don't deliver remarkable value for money when matched up to the store cost you are going to discover so considerably coming from doing it your own self and also will perhaps take excellent honor in increasing and after that eating your very own mushrooms. They are actually understood in the crazy as field mushrooms but they are actually normally designated as the button mushroom or even the Portobello mushroom, although the Portobello varieties are typically much larger in dimension.

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Culture Shock: When Moving From an Urban to a Rural Area

Provincial Real Estate is well known. Be that as it may, Think ahead and don't open yourself up for; Culture Shock; An Unnecessary Evil, when moving to a country region. Anybody CAN counteract a portion of the Culture Shock that may happen when they move to a provincial neighborhood!

Before you move to a provincial property - become acquainted with the people there and look to gain proficiency with the way of life of the region - the current culture - NOT the one you are familiar with and not the one you need to make it into.

Our organization just as of late sold one of the absolute best Homestead Properties I've at any point seen, at a low cost! Why? Since the new proprietor made himself so unwelcome in his new condition thus horribly distanced the neighbors that they in the end made him intolerably awkward. Along these lines, he never again needed to live there.

He is a discourteous tree hugger and chose to move from the city to a rustic network where huge numbers of the families return 400 years on a similar land. He was a city kid with a degree in ranger service, science and environment and had not a mind of individuals sense. His applied religion depended on viewing Walt Disney motion pictures; where the trees talk and man is abhorrent and creatures and plants are great  Maid Service Las Vegas

He didn't need his new neighbors to chase deer, to cultivate the fields promptly toward the beginning of the day, to utilize agrarian synthetic substances or counterfeit composts on the harvests. He didn't care for the planes that showered the executioner bugs promptly toward the beginning of the day. He didn't care for the smell of chicken and pig fertilizer spread on the fields either. He stood up always, boisterously and forcefully. He made adversaries of about the entirety of his neighbors. He's gone now and I trust the new buyer, additionally from the city, won't rehash his social mistakes.

The vast majority of the people that live here are extraordinary and acknowledge they are in another place and try to turn into a section and work inside our social, social and monetary structures. The vast majority of our fresh introductions are magnificent and we have numerous as the populace here in southern Delaware is multiplying about like clockwork!

There is a minor loud scat of individuals, just a small few, who come and detest it here. However they left where they were to come have a superior life around there. We see it constantly. Local people call them ecological whackos, tree huggers, bug kissers and much more regrettable. These are the individuals who have taken in about nature from Walt Disney, Nature Channel, Discovery Channel and Sierra magazine. What's more, yes they frequently have advanced educations. They don't know that the truth is not quite the same as their motion pictures, readings, classes and dreams. In this manner such a large number of them escape the city and afterward look to uphold their obliviousness and miseducation on those in the network they have joined. They attempt to menace others and attempt to get them to concur with the principles, guidelines, ideas and reasoning they deserted in the city. NOT a decent arrangement in the event that they need to have a lovely spot to live. Huge numbers of these people contemplate nature, trees, plants, creatures, the earth and everything else; than those whose families have lived in amicability with earth's life structures for a considerable length of time or even hundreds of years here. Ideally my coarse speech above has intrigued you to peruse and learn here, instead of at the in the end cruel hands of a provincial network in the event that you don't focus on what is here.

It is shrewd to visit the zone you intend to live a few times before you move there. Join the congregation, bolster the Volunteer Fire Department, purchase gas at the nearest service station, buy your lager or wine at the nearby alcohol store, become acquainted with each open territory and visit the public venues and humanitarian gatherings in the zone. Above all talk with people and disclose to them you are thinking about a move into the zone and approach them for counsel. Visit the Lions Club, Sertoma, Elks, Rotary, Red Men, and so forth., and look to learn as opposed to instructing. Tune in as opposed to talking. Ask, don't tell.

There is nearly nothing, on the off chance that anything, the newcomer can show local people nearby things. On the off chance that you should attempt to show local people something; in the event that you attempt to instruct them about your aptitude where you originated from, what you were paid to do previously, about the activity and territory you fled (on the off chance that you can discover any individual who cares) - you are on an off-base course and will shorely wreck.

Clearly, in the event that you are one of those individuals who left such urban stuff, you are one who doesn't generally think that its everything that important either. Else you ought to have remained there. What's more, you can wager that is actually what your neighbors will think in the event that you move into a rustic territory and take a smarty pants and I'm-so-a lot more brilliant on the grounds that I-originate from-the-city demeanor. They might be peaceful, or even pleasant in your quality for some time, however that kind of a frame of mind will cause just hostility in people around you. Also, they will discuss you, quickly to one another and your terrible mentality will go before you and be about difficult to address later.

Discover what the network needs and needs from new or imminent individuals, for example, yourself; truly discover, don't figure or accept and let pre-judgment well enough alone for the image. We've had various people who have moved here to showcase specialists or PR specialists or Graphic Design specialists. Not one of the few dozen I've met throughout the most recent 30 years is still in

business and none of them are even still here supposedly. The administration they were planning to charge large cash for was not needed at any cost, not by any means free.

One of my clients from somewhere in the range of a quarter century back - moved from San Francisco into a "little (pop. 800) pristine, provincial, interesting, beautiful town - populated with salt-of-the-earth and sensible people" as she discussed them from the outset. The couple I talk about had gelded their child, really they had a specialist do it, so his voice would not change with age - all so he could sing in a world acclaimed ensemble.

They needed to begin preparing local people to construct a "Kid's Choir". They were incensed that the neighborhood school region would not bolster a kid's ensemble that they were sure could be the jealousy of the world, in the event that they could simply tell everybody the best way to do everything. After a year they discussed "the awful little town brimming with dumb crabby uninformed good-for-nothings, shanties, shacks, old trucks, fat toothless men, red necks, gossipy ladies, uneducated Rubes and ingrained hicks whose thought of culture was a lager and burger in a pickup truck.". The San Franciscans are gone now as well. Their name only from time to time comes up, and when it does, it isn't in an amiableness or a decent vein.

I am in the matter of selling provincial land, backwoods and homes. I love the individuals who effectively live in the few zones where I work. I love the clients I work with. More often than not, the newcomers fit in well with the previous network. A few, not very many, of my clients move in and ruin the zone for themselves and for a brief period, for those effectively here. The main explanation is that they have not scholarly of the REALITY of provincial, nation life in the specific network before they buy there.

It is frequently, in actuality normally, unrealistic to lease before purchasing in a specific zone; so it is incredibly, insightful to look a long time before you jump into a rustic network on the off chance that you didn't grow up there. Regardless of whether you grew up in a provincial region and afterward didn't keep in contact with loved ones there since, you may discover you never again fit in. Be that as it may, you can relearn those traditions you abandoned, on the off chance that you truly need to "come back to your foundations". What's more, in the event that you've never lived in the territory, you can get familiar with the ethnicity, the traditions, and figure out how to be a decent neighbor.

In the event that you look to fit in and add to the network, as indicated by what IS truly required and needed in that specific network - you may well appreciate a kind of paradise on-earth in your new home.

One individual strikes a chord who came, adored and was all around cherished. He was a military radio master who had ventured to the far corners of the planet, profited, lived in DC and Northern Virginia for a considerable length of time. Gone to the best, quickest, and most costly capacities in the zone and after retirement chose to move to our provincial hotel zone. He moved here at the stature of the CB furor, when nearly everybody of the country people had a CB and needed it to work better or required one appropriately introduced in their home or vehicle. He did everything complimentary for any individual who inquired. He was after all resigned. Each time I visited him he'd load up my Wagoneer with eggs, products of the soil from the homesteads, plantations and nurseries of those he'd made a difference. I helped him with making the contacts he needed to make and with getting authorizations to private "angling gaps" away from everything. He was a trick and discharge angler and would in every case tidy up all waste around the angling opening, before he even began angling there.

One neighbor kept this present man of his word's grass cut and revealed to him he get a decent cussing in the event that he inefficiently purchased a lawnmower. Another neighbor wouldn't take a nickel for changing the brakes on his vehicle. Another neighbor fixed his rooftop for nothing. A few of the women in the area would prepare some additional supper for him, a few times each week, and bring it over. He was welcome to eat some place in the encompassing network consistently. Furthermore, he was requested accounts of his reality voyages and the extravagant gatherings he went to. He was fit, and quite affluent as he lived just, had been paid well and contributed well during his working years.

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Tired of Begging for Money? These Are the Tools That Can Help

Note from Mr. SR: As Dave Ramsey likes to say, it’s easy to end up “with too much month left at the end of the paycheck.” I’ve been there, and it’s an embarrassing and humbling feeling.

If you find yourself asking friends or family for money to get by, this post is for you. My friend Melissa from Perfection Hangover will teach you how to get started budgeting so you no longer have to beg for money. She’ll also talk about what to do if your friends or family are begging you for money!

Once you get started budgeting, I also encourage you to build up your emergency fund — then, you will be prepared for emergencies and surprises, without having to borrow from friends and family or go into debt. In fact, I recommend getting your emergency fund started even before you begin investing.

Take it away, Melissa!

Has begging for money become the new norm? It seems that the internet has become an easy way for people to become online panhandlers. I’ve shared many ways to make extra money from home, online, and even creative side hustle ideas (ie “Dave jobs” for all of you Dave Ramsey fans).

From CyberBeg to BeggingMoney, there’s no shortage of sites available to ask strangers for financial help.

But at some point, you have to get your financial act together and take responsibility for your own successes and failures.

Here are five ways to get it done.

Step 1: evaluate your income

Do you make enough money to support yourself, your partner, and/or your kids? According to the US Census Bureau, median household income was $61,372 in 2017. Income is calculated including wages and salaries, as well as any kind of governmental entitlement such as unemployment insurance, disability payments or child support payments received, along with any personal business, investment, or other recurring sources of income for all persons over the age of 15 in the household (whether related or not).

If you aren’t currently earning enough money, find ways to make extra cash, such as starting an online business or donating blood plasma for up to $400 per month. There are so many ways to bring in extra money that there are literally no excuses worthy of holding you back. You just have to make the decision to hustle. Work nights and weekends if you have to. Work two jobs if you need to. Go back to school if it will improve your financial situation.

Step 2: start budgeting — every single time you get paid

Many times, financial problems are the result of overspending and improper budgeting (or worse, failing to budget at all). Budgeting is so important, especially if you are an impulse buyer. You don’t need fancy planners or complicated spreadsheets to create a budget. I use this cheap family and finance bill organizer from Dollar General (and have used it for years) to keep track of my budget.

Best budgeting apps

If budgeting with pencil and paper isn’t your jam, using apps or spreadsheets can be a great way to track spending. The Balance put together a list of the best budgeting apps available to help you track your income and expenses.

Here they are:

Best Overall: Mint

Best to Keep from Overspending: PocketGuard

Best for Type-A Personalities: You Need a Budget

Best for Just Budgeting: Wally

Best for Cash Style Budgeting: Mvelopes

Best for Couples: Goodbudget

Best App Tied to a Bank Account: Simple

Best for Investors: Personal Capital

By creating a written plan for your money every single time you are paid, you’ll be able to set realistic financial goals as well as expectations for your spending.

Step 3: find ways to cut costs

There are certain things we’ve become accustomed to, such as TV, internet, cell phones, alcohol, cigarettes, [insert your vice here].

Many people fall into the trap of contracts with DirecTV and AT&T and end up spending so much more than they should. These services are a luxury. If you are begging for money, you don’t have money for a TV plan. It’s time to cut the cord and downgrade your cell phone to a service like Cricket Wireless.

Also obvious but seemingly impossible is to quit smoking, drinking, and buying things like energy drinks, fountain sodas, and specialty coffee when you simply can’t afford it.

Let’s say you have $5 to your name. $5 to get you through the next 3 days until payday. You could buy your favorite Starbucks drink OR you could buy a loaf of bread and sandwich meat OR you could buy a whole rotisserie chicken from Walmart. It’s a no-brainer!

Step 4: determine if daycare is worth the cost

If you and your spouse are both working outside of the home, it’s important to make sure it makes financial sense. Take a look at your take-home pay (assuming you are not the breadwinner). Let’s say you take home $1500 per month after taxes and insurance. Sounds pretty decent as an extra source of income for bills, right?

But your childcare costs are $1300 per month for your two small kids and your older child’s after-school care. The time you’re spending away from your family probably isn’t worth $200 per month net, am I right?

When I left my banking career, this was my situation. After expenses, I was taking home around $500 per month. Hardly worth it.

All this being said, you also need to take a close look inside and determine if you want to be at home with the kids all day. I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating. I am a better mom for my kids when I get a break. When they are in school and I’m able to work on my blog or YouTube channel, clean house, or run errands, I love it.

Then when it’s time for them to come home, I focus on the kids and I love it! You have to find a balance if you decide to quit your job to stay at home with the kids.

Side Note: If you’re worried about healthcare costs, check out how Christian Healthcare Ministries paid nearly all of our $60,000 in medical bills and our premiums were only $135 per month!

How to stop a friend or family member from begging for money

Stop enabling them. Stop giving them $5 here, $10 there, putting gas in their tank, buying them groceries. Parents: your adult children are adults. A little tough love will help them far more than a few bucks. Offer to proofread their resume or help them look for jobs. But stop giving them money.

You’re putting a band-aid on a problem that is far deeper than “How am I going to eat this week.”

Bottom line: stop begging for money & take ownership

Begging for money isn’t attractive on anyone. You are worth more than this. When you have conversations with your friends and family, it should be great to talk about how amazing things are going for you. It would be amazing for you to ask them about their family without constantly talking about yourself and your financial problems.

It’s okay to seek advice and help. It’s not okay to have a pity party over and over and over again.

To recap:

Evaluate Income – Get, and keep a J-O-B.

Make a Budget

Find Ways to Cut Costs

Ditch Daycare (if possible)

This post was written by Melissa from Perfection Hangover and originally appeared on The Money Mix. It is re-published here with permission. 

The post Tired of Begging for Money? These Are the Tools That Can Help appeared first on Semi-Retire Plan.

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