#i mean the point was money and also to make my coworkers like me

[parkitaco]

now why on earth did i do that

[clairenatural]

Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.

It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.

It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.

He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.

Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.

So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.

It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long. 

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.” 

The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”

It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.

Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.

"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.

Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.

"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.

"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.

He turns the keys. He drives them home.

Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).

Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.

It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"

Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."

"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."

"You didn't correct her?"

"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.

"Uh huh."

"It felt trivial."

"To tell her we're not married?"

"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.

Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."

"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.

Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.

"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"

Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."

Across the table, Cas grins at him.

"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.

"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."

"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."

They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.

[eaterofman]

Yandere Coworker Harem x New Hire Reader: A Meeting with the CEO

Follow up to this post

Finally fed up with it all, you decide to leave... but you learn it may not be that easy.

Content Warnings: General creepiness, yanderes, financial manipulation, manipulation, power difference, gaslighting

AN: Holy shit the first part blew up, more so than any post I've ever made on tumblr... ever. Thank y'all, and I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations? Had to ignore a few asks since they were essentially the plot to this part, haha.

As nice as Jake is... it starts to wear on you. The seclusion from your other coworkers, Warren and Jax's constant attention, it all becomes too much. This was the easiest money you've ever made, but it almost felt... condescending in a way. Seriously, you feel like you haven't actually worked in months, just given simple tasks to complete so that Jax could praise you. Otherwise, you felt like you were just eye candy set in a pretty office. No more, you figure. You make up your mind to go back to HR, it's been a long time coming. They either fix it, or you're gone.

With your mind made up, you return to Leon. He'd been so kind before, surely he'd help, right? As you explain your problems to him, he nods and gently smiles. In your distress, you don't notice his hand moving to cover yours, massaging yours comfortingly. You welcome the comforting sensation, overwhelmed to the point of not really considering the implications. You look into his dark eyes as you finish, silently pleading with him for help.

"That really is something. I'm sorry to hear your experience with the company has been so distressing. Tell me, do you have any proof?"

His demeanor seems to shift instantly back to the colder man you remember from your first sight of him. His fingers rubbing gentle circles into your palm shift into a harsher grip.

"Proof? I-I mean, the cameras have probably caught something?"

You'd say there were eyewitnesses, but all of your other coworkers had been avoiding you. You barely even knew their names...

"Unfortunately, our cameras have been malfunctioning lately, I doubt they'd catch anything. Without any actual witnesses, I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."

"How can you say that without even looking? This place is insane- you know what? I'm just quitting. I can't take this anymore."

You try to remove your hand but he keeps it there. His gaze is suddenly ice cold. He lets your hand go after a few moments of tension, fingers lingering before you yank your hand to your chest.

"Ah, you could quit... but I'd really recommend against it. You'd of course have to pay the dues you signed in your contract, as well as any additional fees. I'm not in charge of finances, but my estimate would be somewhere around... 200 thousand or so?"

You gasp, blood running cold. 200 thousand?! You don't remember signing that, but you also don't recall really reading over the contract in your excitement. You try to think of a way out, surely there had to be some sort of loophole-

"Of course, there's always the option of asking the CEO to change your contract, but..."

You'd tuned anything after that out, insisting to meet with the CEO as soon as possible. Which, to your surprise, was almost immediately. Almost like he'd been... waiting for you? Leon himself lead you to the CEO's room, at the very top of the skyscraper your office resided in. As you're let in, you're met with the biggest office you'd ever seen. It composed of the entire top floor of the skyscraper, massive windows encircling the entire ornate office.

You really try to ignore the feeling that you're walking into a trap.

The CEO was patiently waiting for you. Like a king on a throne, he sat in the middle of the room in front of a surprisingly simple desk. You'd heard of the CEO, Kennedy Grey, but you'd never met him in person before. He had an air of sophistication around him, an older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard. His suit was pristine and looked expensive, probably costing more than your entire yearly salary. He smiled, urging the two of you to sit. His eyes glanced over to Leon's, a slight smirk on his face as if the two were in on a joke you weren't.

"So, what brings you two here? I've heard very good things about you from Jax. Things are going well, I presume?"

You fidget, despite his welcoming tone, he felt oddly... menacing. Like you weren't supposed to disagree with him, even if he asked you a question. You begin to explain your issues, but are quickly stopped with a firm look of disapproval when you bring up the idea of leaving the company.

"Now now, we can't have that, can we? With your contract, that wouldn't be a very smart idea, would it?"

Before you can even respond, he simply continues to talk over you.

"No, no it wouldn't. And you've just been such a good worker, we'd just hate to lose you."

"Well, I was actually hoping we could talk about the contract, I just don't think it's fair-" you can barely get your thoughts out as he cuts you off again.

"Unfair? But my dear, you signed it. I'd just hate to get my lawyers involved... they're top of the line, y'know? Besides, you don't actually want to leave, you're just... stressed. What do you need, a paid week off? A bonus for your hard work?"

"No-"

"Well, now that that's done, let's get back to work, shall we? You'll have a bonus on your next pay-"

You've had enough of his condescension and interruptions, it's time for you to interrupt him.

"You know what, I'll take the lawsuit. You people are insane. You can have the money if you want, but I'm out of here."

As you get up, you find you can't. Leon has moved behind you, surprisingly strong arms holding your chair in, preventing you from moving. You look up at him in angered confusion, but he's sharing a look with Kennedy. You once again feel like you're missing an important part of an inside joke again. You try to struggle, but you're stopped as Kennedy interrupts.

"Apartment 101, Evergreen Apartments, right?"

"W-wha-"

"You know, I've been venturing into the rental market recently. Very profitable at the moment. I actually just bought a few buildings in your area, including your little apartment. Such a shame, you know you could do better, right? All you have to do is ask..."

He smiles at you as if this was a normal conversation to him, like he was doing you a favor.

"I guess that makes me your landlord now, if you think about it!" his smile turns colder, eyes crinkling like he's laughing at you, "That being said, I just don't see how you're going to pay for the rent increase without this job. I hate to do it, but it's a necessity, y'know? Cost of living and such."

He waves his hand like it's no big deal, like he isn't playing with your livelihood and threatening you.

"You could move out, of course, but well, word gets around, and I just don't know how the other investors in the area would react to your... history."

You feel dread well up in the pit of your stomach and tears in your eyes. He... has you. What could you even do? Moving out of the city would mean starting over, and that's if you could even find a place and a job to pay for said place, and paying for the lawsuit-

In your panic, you can only whimper, "I just... why? Why me? i don't understand-"

"That's the beauty of it all, you don't have to. All you have to worry about is coming in and doing your job. We'll handle all the rest."

You jump, having almost forgotten Leon was behind you in your panic. You go to open your mouth-

"Wonderful insight, Leon. Now that we're all on the same foot, let's get back to work, shall we?"

You can only numbly nod your head, too overwhelmed to continue fighting.

You're finally allowed to sit up and begin walking towards the door, trying to speed walk out of the huge room that somehow managed to feel claustrophobic. You just wanted out at this point, you needed somewhere to think.

As you step into the elevator, Leon staying behind in the office-thank god-you're interrupted one final time.

"Oh, and I meant what I said. If you ever need any assistance, anything at all, just come to me. All you have to do is ask."

[thewayitalknj]

Since a few of you kindly asked for a Part 2, here you go! Thanks for the love!

Warnings - reader feels a bit insecure for a split second! Word Count - 2.6k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You stare at him, cold blooded. So he did figure it out? You shut the door behind you and reach for the silk robe hanging on the back of the door. 

“Aw come on don’t cover up because it’s me-”

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” 

He makes a silly dance move, trying to be funny but definitely not helping. “What do you mean? I came for a private dance.” 

You finish tying a bow and cross your arms. “How did you know I work here?”

He gets up and walks towards you. He moves your robe off to the side and points to your birthmark. “This. I noticed it while you were dancing.”

You sigh and look back up at him. He stifles a laugh, “Ed, this isn’t funny.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a fucking dancer?”

“Oh yeah, because that’s a great conversation starter-” You notice him looking you up and down. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m hot or…some shit.”

“Well, I mean-”

“Look, I get off at midnight. We can go back to my place to chat afterwards if you want. But for now, you can hang in the dressing room. We won’t be back there until we close up anyway.” You open up the door and motion for Eddie to leave.

“...does this mean I don’t get a private dance?” You give him a stern look this time, “yes ma’am.”

As you enter your front door Eddie goes and takes a seat on your couch as you head to your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. When you take a seat next to him just a few minutes later you explain everything to him.

You have been working at the strip club for over a year now. As much as you loved working at Family Video it just wasn’t paying enough. Bianca was a regular at FV with her family, and you grew a work-type friendship with her. One day she came in by herself and asked if you wanted to come to a charity event they were holding at the club. She immediately made it clear how odd it sounded about having a charity event at a strip club but assured you it was always a hit ; how the money went towards good causes in the city and the toy drives were always overflowing. You wanted to show your support so you went and had a fun time. Bianca introduced you to everyone, from her boss to her coworkers to regulars. It was a strange family-oriented work environment you never imagined. When Pam, the owner and boss, asked if you were interested at all in working for them you turned it down. But when bills started piling up and the holidays were around the corner you thought earning some extra cash would be helpful. So you went back, and was hired right from your interview. 

Pam explained how the club was run by women for women only. Everyone took you through training, first just as a waitress. You learned tips and tricks, and also had to come up with a fake name for security and privacy.

“Wait, so what’s your ‘fake name’?” Eddie asks using quotation marks.

“Lilith.”

“Why Lilith?” 

“It means ‘belonging to the night’. It’s also associated with meanings like ‘demon’ or ‘spirit.’”

“Well that’s badass. How did you come up with that?”

Look down at your lap. “Um, in one of your D&D books. The one you gave me about character building.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah…so anyway. I didn’t even think about dancing but Bianca asked me one day if I wanted to try it, so I did. Everyone thought I did a good job…I was on the next night and it just took off from there.”

“Why haven't you told anyone?”

“Because when Bianca asked me to come to the charity event I didn’t really know what to think about her being a stripper. I didn’t want to judge her, and I didn’t want people or colleagues to judge me. I really enjoy it. I have this new built confidence when I walk through those doors. We all really care for one another and root each other on.”

Eddie shifts himself closer to you. “What do you mean ‘new built confidence’?”

“Let me answer this with a question for you. How do you feel when you’re DM’ing at Hellfire?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, like I’m taking charge. Assertive. I know what I’m doing and I like how I make people feel afterwards.”

You reach and put your hand on his leg. “That’s exactly how I feel when I’m dancing.” You smile, shake your head, laugh to yourself.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just hilarious that we both feel the same way about two completely different scenarios.”

“Hm, true.”

“Can I ask you a question though?”

“Sure, anything.”

“...What did you think…about the dance…on your birthday?” You gulp.

“Psh, don’t you remember the way I was talking about you when I came here the next morning?” You nod. “Everything I said was true. I couldn’t get you out of my head. And then when I figured out it was you I just…had to tell you I knew. Couldn’t live with that secret, it would have driven me nuts.”

“How did you ask for me anyway? You didn’t even know my name.”

“I asked for the devil from the night before. The women who led me to the private room recognized me from when I was called up for the dance.”

You pondered, “Was she dressed in all silver?”

“...yes?”

“That’s Jade. She gave me a bit of a pep-talk, I almost asked her to go out instead of me.” 

Eddie looks at you muddled, “why didn’t you want to dance for me?”

“Because you're Eddie, you’re one of my closest friends and it just felt…I don't know, awkward.”

“Well, if I’m being honest your friend is very beautiful but,” he takes your chin and lines you up with his eyes, “I’m glad it was you.”

You smile, “I’m glad it was me too.” 

You stare at him for a bit, melting into his touch and his eyes ; and when your lips touch just seconds later without even realizing how close you were, you feel like you died and went to heaven. It was when his tongue slipped its way into your mouth that that confidence you talked about earlier started to kick in. You kick yourself up and straddle his lap, bringing your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself but never breaking the kiss. His hands find your hips, rings digging deep into your shirt, bringing them along to the slow steady pace as he starts with his own hips grinding up. You follow his rhythm and hum, starting to feel way too good.

And even though that confidence was built up for a few moments, your insecurities came rushing through. You part and separate yourself too quickly and mumble “no” ; Eddie looks upset as you stand up. “What’s wrong? Did I take it too far, I’m sorry-”

“No no it’s not you it’s just..me. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You stutter, tears beginning to paint your cheeks. “It’s just-you never did any of this before. And-now you find out I strip and we’re suddenly making out on my couch. I feel like I’m in some stupid rom com where I took off my glasses and suddenly you see me differently.”

“Hun, I can promise you it’s nothing like that.”

“I don’t mean to sound rude Eddie but I think you should go.”

“But-”

“I just need space, if that makes sense? Can I call you tomorrow or sometime later this week?”

“Yeah of course, whatever you need. I know this is a lot for you.”

“Yeah-yeah it is.” 

He walks over and kisses you on the top of your forehead before leaving. 

“And that’s basically what happened.” You swirl around in an office chair, disappointed in yourself. You were a mess, you spent the whole next morning thinking about Eddie and what happened. Today is even your day off, but you felt like you needed company so you made your way to the club for some hopeful reassurance you weren't taking this too far or overthinking.

“I think it’s sweet he’s giving you space, he understands your concerns and he’s respecting it. You don’t see that a lot nowaday..” Your other co-worker and current security cam watcher Leah has been listening to your rants all day. She just came back from maternity leave but wasn’t ready to dance, so her shifts have been bartending and security watch, mainly the private rooms from the cameras. When you arrived at the club no private dances were happening, so Leah took you to the security room for privacy. “I’m kinda glad you came though, I want to show you something from the night he was here.” She holds up a VHS tape and puts it in the VCR. You watch with bated breath as Eddie shows up on screen.

“What does-”

She puts her hand up, “Just listen.” You watch the footage, as Eddie paces the private room waiting for you to arrive. 

“Hey so, I’ve kind of liked you since high school and…no I can’t start with that.”

>>FF>>

“Finding out about dancing? That is just a perk that will come in the soon to be hopeful relationship…no that doesn’t sound right. Soon to be hopeful relationship? Steve is a fucking idiot for coming up with that line.” 

>>FF>>

“So…wanna go out on a date? Bowling, dinner? …What am I, 14?”

>>FF>>

“Alright Munson, you got this. Just tell her you figured it out and that this doesn’t change how you feel.” Then he plops down on the couch and lays back just as you found him.

Leah stops the tape and looks back to you.

“He…likes me?”

“Guess he does. So much for your negative thoughts huh?”

“I can’t believe this. He’s never shown any signs of…anything.”

“Pft, guys are weird. It took my husband years to ask me out on a first date but I waited! Here we are three years later with a new house and baby. It was all worth the wait, and I’m sure this will be for you too.”

“But how can I make this right? I feel like I screwed it all bigtime.”

“Why don’t you invite him to our charity event in a few weeks? It’s how your story started. Maybe it’ll be a new chapter for him too. Show him instead of talking to him to make things right.”

You smile wide, “...Has anyone told you you’re a genius?”

“And I thought Mom-Brain was getting to me already. But I’ll take the compliment.” You give Leah a hug and head out to make a very important phone call.

Eddie (of course) agreed to attend the charity event, and even offered to pay full price instead of the family and friends discount. You went in a few hours earlier to help set everything up while Eddie arrived when the event began. You introduced him to your co-workers ; some already knew about what happened but for your sake played it off like they knew nothing, which you greatly appreciated. Eddie took a seat at the bar, wishing you luck for your performance later which he was secretly looking forward to. Just before heading to the dressing room you stop by the DJ booth.

“Hey Cassie, here’s my tape for my dance. It’s Track 8, and I go on at 11.”

“Got it. Thanks love!” She looks at the cassette and ponders to herself, “huh, who’s Corroded Coffin?”

Your turn couldn’t come soon enough. Eddie was only two drinks in, constantly looking at the clock waiting for 11 to strike.

“You okay babe?” Leah, (or in tonight's case since she’s working, Carmella), comes over to check on him.

“Huh-yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course, she’ll be on in a few. Excited to watch her?”

“Ohyeah-yeah,totally.Can’t wait.” He takes a large sip of his drink.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Can I be real with you for a second?”

“I’m a bartender, I’m here to lend an ear to your problems.” Leah leans in, “talk to me.”

“I’ve liked her forever, I’m just stupid and have never asked her out properly. And I don’t want her to think I’m asking her out now because of all this,” he motions his arms around the room.

“Well maybe she won’t think that.”

“But she does, I know she does. And I just feel like a fucking idiot.”

“Eddie, I can assure you by the end of the night you’re not going to feel that way.”

“How do you-” Just then the lights dim ; Eddie looks at the clock ; 11:00. 

Cassie takes the microphone and introduces you, “and now ladies and gentlemen one of our veteran and favorite dancers, Lilith!”

You take the stage ; back turned towards the crowd, grabbing onto the pole ; a beautiful black outfit snug to your body ; and your music hits the stereos, a loud guitar solo opening the song. 

Eddie thought his eyes were going to fall out of his sockets, immediately recognizing the solo as his own. ; And when you turned your head to face the crowd making eye contact with Eddie and giving him a wink, he knew he was done for.

He watched you in awe, he couldn’t believe someone in a strip club was dancing to his song. But in this case it wasn’t just anyone, it was you. Someone he’s known almost his whole life, someone he’s been trying to ask out for way too long but had doubts because of his own stupidity. When your performance was over he whistled from his seat and immediately turned to Leah, “are any of the private rooms taken?”

When you exited the stage and headed back to the dressing room you were met with cheers and hugs. Everyone loved your dance and gave you your praises. 

After a few moments of celebrating and thank yous, Leah came in, a smirk across her face ; more or less as a ‘I told you so’ look. “Room #2. Go, now” The girls all gave a collective “ohhhhhhhhh”, as you rolled your eyes and left.

Eddie is standing in the middle of the room this time. You shut the door and lean up against it. You're the first to speak up ; “So,” you start to walk closer, “what did you think?”

“Don’t come any closer.” 

You stop, baffled at his words. “Why?”

“Because if you come any closer I’m going to lay you on this couch and do unthinkable things to you.”

You blush, hard. “You sure you wanna do that with a security camera in the corner?”

He looks up at the camera and waves, “free entertainment, no?”

You chuckle, such a typical Eddie answer.

“Well-”

“If you wanna know what I thought, I’m seriously never gonna get you out of my head now. How the hell am I going to ever perform that song without thinking straight?”

You look down shyly, rocking on your heels. 

“And as much as I would love to give your friends some content, I do want to do this whole thing right.” He brings himself to stand right in front of you, “let me take you on a date, a proper one. Pick you up, dinner-”

“Maybe…bowling?” He brings his head to the side, giving you a bewildered look.

“I mean, if you want too-”

“I’m joking, but dinner would be great.”

“Cool-cool. Can I pick you up tomorrow at 6?”

“Sounds like a date.” You stand more on your heels, placing a small kiss to his cheek and leaving him alone in the room.

Quick Notes - Didn't expect this to get as much love as it did so thank you again! Reblogs are appreciated! :) also yes I have an idea for a Part 3 but we'll see!

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers… The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

“Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

❃ FLUFFCEMBER 2024 ❃

day 10: chocolate — franco colapinto x reader

note: i love franco he’s my favourite rookie (after fernando of course) and one of my favourite current drivers. hope he’ll get a good seat for ‘26 at least, he deserves it <3

fluffcember masterlist | main masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You found a job in a little cafeteria to make some money during your college years, and you loved it. The timetables were perfect and your coworkers were very nice. As Christmastime was getting closer, you decorated the place all together. It ended up very cute.

One day you were serving some trusted costumers when you locked eyes with a boy coming in the cafeteria. Honestly, it was quite impossible not to notice him. He was probably the prettiest boy that cafe had ever seen. Brown curly hair, soft striking features and a lean physique. He also had a familiar face, like you had seen him somewhere already.

He got near the bar counter, as you pretended you weren’t looking at his every movement with the corner of your eye. You faked interest on the tv turned on the news: “As The Formula 1 2024 season comes to an end, Ferrari is ready to welcome the seven times world champion Lewis Hamilton, while the Redbull team’s future remains uncertain….”

He was definitely staring. Damn.

When you finished with the other clients, you walked in front of him. “Hello, what can I do for you?”

He leaned on the counter. “Other than give me your number, you mean?” He said, revealing a strong Spanish accent.

Oh, so you hadn’t misinterpreted. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help a smile. “Wow, not even asking my name first.”

“Easily skipped, Y/N.” He pointed to the card pinned on your uniform. Right.

“And yours?”

“Guess it.” He smirked, playfully.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you like… an actor or something?”

He shook his head. “No, but I get why my appearance may have deceived you.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, sure. So, would you like something to drink?”

“A hot chocolate.” He looked around the place and his gaze stopped on a table. “I’m gonna seat there, waiting for it. And for your number, hopefully.” He winked, then paid for his order and went to sit down.

You carefully crafted the best hot chocolate you’ve ever prepared for someone while watching the news.

“This year has definitely brought us many surprised, one of them being the young talented Argentinian driver Franco Colapinto, put in the Williams seat mid-season…”

Your calm expression turned into shocked when the tv showed the face of the driver, which was the same as the boy’s sat in your cafeteria. You were not wrong, you had obviously seen him before.

You served him his hot chocolate, with whipped cream, some extra cookies, sugar and all. “This is for you.”

“Wonderful.” His green eyes shined looking at his drink.

“And also this,” You put a napkin with your number written on it beside the cup. “Franco.”

Franco raised his gaze to meet yours. “Ah, you found out.”

You shrugged. “Or maybe I just guessed.” You turned around and went back to work. You didn’t miss him saving the number on his phone.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I’ve been struggling lately with the feeling that my job is pointless. Intellectually I know it is not—nursing is one of those professions where you get to be real smug about knowing the value of your work. But it’s still felt very pointless. Like I’ll start a shift thinking, “what am I even doing here,” and end it thinking, “what have I actually even done.” It’s been a ROUGH couple months.

But I had a really good shift last time I worked, which was good for the soul and also a very useful data point. I got to do pain management advocacy and symptom management, met a bunch of cool patients, did education for new nurses, and had several long heart to hearts, which the kind of midnight heart to hearts that I think are the most important part of night shift, all of that while being well staffed with very pleasant and appreciative patients and coworkers, and I was still like. Pretty depressed. I had a sense of satisfaction and moments of joy and meaning, but it turns out that one good shift did not cure the depression that has been latched on to me for the last few months like some kind of fucked up mental health leech. As I realized I was still depressed and that it was still interfering with my life even when everything was going well, the sense of peace washed over me was the best I’d felt in a while. Because I was like, okay! None of my usual stuff as worked! I have no excuse not to try something new to get my brain out of the shit ditch it’s slipped into.

So I’m applying for short-term disability. I’m worried I won’t get it, and I’m not sure what the next step is if I get rejected, but I feel so much better having decided to pursue it. It’s so much fuckin paperwork for sure, to a degree that’s overwhelming except that that the form could be a checkbox that says, “you want money?” and I’d be like “THIS IS TOO MUCH.” I’m totally not writing this post instead of finishing an email to my manager. I’m definitely not writing this post to avoid dealing with coordinating all my various care providers. I’m certainly not at every moment worried that I’m secretly faking all this so I can get three to nine weeks of a cool summer vacation.

I was thinking about how I almost flunked nursing school in my final semester because I turned in assignments late for a class with a “no late homework” policy. The professor said that this was reflective of real life, where if you miss deadlines you’re just fucked. I ended up appealing my grade and passing, because frankly it was a weak reason for making me repeat a final semester when there was no issues with my actual work or knowledge. During my appeal, I was like “I also think this policy is ableist. Harsh penalties for late work hurt students with health problems, especially chronic health problems when you aren’t asking for one week off due to the flu but instead for a general and never ending flexibility. I’m not trying to make an excuse but explain why this policy is a bad one. Disabled healthcare workers are an asset to healthcare.” I’m trying to remember my own argument as I pursue help. My depression and ADHD and eating disorder do help me be a better nurse, not because like depression gives you superpowers, but because I manage my chronic illnesses every day, in ways that range from hardly noticeable to life or death. Being kind to patients means being kind to myself, and vice versa.

I’m rambling. I really do not want to do this paperwork or send these emails. And I’m not sure if I deserve the leave I’m trying to take. But I miss being love with my job. I miss enjoying it. I wouldn’t judge someone else for going on medical leave, and my job doesn’t want me to burn out or quit. It almost feels like I have to be skeptical of applying for leave because no one else is. Everyone I’ve spoken to has been very supportive, including my manager. And considering how many unpaid days off I’ve had to take lately, disability leave would be an improvement over some of my recent paychecks. All in all, short-term disability makes sense and seems like a reasonable response to circumstances. But FUCK. I wish it required like 90 percent less documentation.

[olderthannetfic]

if you don't mind me sending yet another personal questions on anon... i'm in my mid-20s, single, and pro-abortion because i'd rather fetuses not be born rather than abandoned or died of hunger or stunted from malnutrition. i'm from a third-world country so it's very common here and it's very sad to me. i'm not exactly poor though, more like middle class, i guess?

recently my coworkers talked about getting married and having children. one of them said "i've seen old people without children and no one takes care of them. also, an old person's happiness is mostly from watching their children grow up. that can never be replaced with anything." it sounds a little bit weird to me, but i'm not sure if it's because i'm single and have never looked up about parenting and children before, so i asked "but isn't it selfish to give life to children because you want someone to take care of you/you don't want to die alone? and aren't there other sources of happiness?" they reiterated that watching your children grow up is a different kind of happiness and that "having someone to take care of you is not the main goal, but it's gained anyways" but the way they said it sounds like it's the main goal to me because they don't state any other goals like "i want a footballer kid" or "i want a kid to take them on trips" or even "to continue the bloodline in the name of evolution". i honestly don't really get it.

i mean, they're free to think whatever they want as long as they don't abandon their children, but it brings me to a dilemma. i'm scared of dying alone and missing out on watching my own children grow up. but also, i don't think i'm ready to have children due to my mental capacity and lack of parenting skills. i'm scared of being selfish; what if my child turns out unhappy and depressed like me? what even is MY main goal? i have so many that i want to do, like travelling around the world, but eventually all my goals will be fulfilled and i'll have spare money, but i'll be less mobile when i grow up, and being pregnant is more dangerous as you grow older.

i'm still single so i think i have time to think about it, but it creeps on me like a ticking timer. since you and some of your readers are older and have probably went through this dilemma, what do you think? what even brought you to the point where you're set on having/not having children?

--

Yes, people are absolute morons about children.

In the context of the US, we have shit health care and a shameful dearth of ways to care for our elderly, disabled, or terminally ill. Most of the work falls to family. It is absolutely true that people with kids have a better shot of reasonable end of life care...

However, that's going to depend on where you live, and you could easily end up estranged from your kids or your kid could get hit by a bus or something. Treating something as major as parenthood as a guarantee of in-home nursing is fucking stupid in any country.

Different kind of happiness, my ass.

I'm happy I managed to have a kid after leaving it pretty late. My baby is delightful. I still don't see how this is that different from a best friend or a hobby. I think a lot of people are just boring and have no idea how to be rabidly passionate about their hobbies. They also have no idea how to build emotional intimacy. If they can't make a bff who'd nurse them through cancer, they probably can't instill those feelings in their kid either.

Most people find conception just fine up through the mid 30s. Late 30s even. I had to do IVF because I waited into my 40s. The pregnancy was still fine. The birth sucked because I didn't yell at the hospital staff forcefully enough or have a good enough advocate with me, but it still turned out okay. The medical part should be a relatively small part of your calculation unless you have reason to think the local medical system will make pregnancy particularly dangerous.

--

For me... I'd always assumed I'd have one. I didn't find the right partner, but I did run out of time. I pictured what my life would look like in five years with a kid. What would we be doing together? And I liked that picture, so I went for it.

One thing that helped a lot was that my mother was perpetually too busy running a business but did genuinely care. She left me alone to pursue my own hobbies a lot and did not hover because she was always doing ten thousand things, including her own stack of hobbies.

Most parenting content is about as pleasant as cleaning out a latrine. It's all full of "Do these seventy-two things every single morning or you're a Bad Mother™" and pretending like kids need your overbearing personality squashing them 24/7.

I like to joke "Well, you have to know which end goes up, and you have to feed them occasionally."

Thousands of years of imperfect people did manage not to drop the baby on its head. We even have vaccines now. You would be fine.

Also, my mother absolutely did drag me around the world when I was little. She got a chance to go visit Indonesia with a gamelan she used to play with when I was four and a half, so off we went. I had to completely change how I ate because it was all random homestays in the mid 80s, and the food they had was the food they had. Mom didn't think twice about this.

The biggest parenting error people make—not just personal happiness error but child emotional health error—is stopping living their lives because kids somehow need some bullshit normie fantasy of staying home forever and doing nothing interesting. You need to make a lot of time to do things with the kid, but those can be the things you actually like, not shit from a canned list of child appropriate activities.

If you are never "selfish", you will only teach your child that they cannot have both a kid of their own and a life.

Children need consistency, but that consistency is you caring about them and being around, not you giving up ever having personal time or interests.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for messaging an ex friend who blocked me on WhatsApp?

Before you vote YTA, this AITA isn't about block evading but I didn't know how else to describe the situation.

Ex friend 21F and I 20F are coworkers. I won't go into what happened between us because it's a loooong story, both of us made mistakes but she blows everything out of proportions and I was weak and couldn't defend myself from the wild accusations she kept making at me.

Anyway, once I started setting boundaries and standing up for myself, she got upset and blocked me on WhatsApp. For those who don't know, if you try to message someone who blocked you on WhatsApp, the message will go through but they won't receive it, after I realized she had blocked me, it felt like I was screaming into the void.

Anyway, I didn't stop messaging her, I sent long rants about all the pent up anger that accumulated throughout the one year we were friends (or more accurately tried to make the friendship work), talking about how she misinterprets my whole character and believes she's an infallible angel who never done anything to me etc etc etc.

The messages were satisfying somehow, I felt like I lectured her on what she did to me, it also reminded me of letting it out as if I were writing in a diary. I would've stopped at that point but she still harasses me from time to time even though we don't talk anymore, so I made it a habit to scream at her in her chat whenever she does something to me. I literally turned her chat into a venting diary.

One day, she "stole" my chair right in front of me, between brackets because it was clear she actually didn't know it was mine but the etiquette is to ask first and/or check if this chair was taken. She can literally know that if she just looked at the computer screen and see if an account was logged on or off.

I wanted to call her out but after all, we were both sternly told to stay away from each other. So I kept my cool because I didn't want to make a scene and instead went to WhatsApp to scream at her again. In the rant I called her thief and all sorts of insults that implied she did it on purpose, that hurts no one because she won't read it. Not to mention, she did accuse me of stealing her money before so it was like I was getting back at her for that.

After a couple of hours, she was crying and ranting to our coworkers that she accused of stealing, and that we "chould've talked about it like adults" because she didn't mean to take a taken chair and how she was finally moving on from this toxic friendship but I won't let it go blah blah blah.

I was confused because she wasn't supposed to read the message, that's when I realized she had unblocked me sometimes these past couple of weeks for some reason. I was called to HR and I would've been fired but I defended myself by listing all the terrible things she did to me. Finding evidence wasn't difficult because my rants included chat screenshots of the terrible things she said to be before and they decided she was a bigger AH than I was, but they were creeped by my behaviors and called me out on it. Not only HR, but my coworkers too.

AITA for continuing to send messages without taking into account the possibility she might unblock me anytime?

What are these acronyms?

[wisteriagoesvroom]

what’s the most single most attractive thing about oscar? Then answer for landoscar too?

he’s by his own definition “calculated”, which i also read as cold and detached. that quality in a person, to be able to ignore the noise and channel everything towards winning, is like… really hot lmao idk how else to say it. he’s also very openly ambitious so that smashes my competency kink real bad ngl.

every driver responds differently to the circus of f1 and every driver has to have an element of “i can drop everything and focus” but oscar based on performance is one of the ones i truly believe is capable of tuning almost everything out. the higher the pressure seems to get, the calmer he seems to be. i think it takes an incredible amount of self control for someone so relatively young too.

i mean behaviour-wise if you squint, he’s basically a darcy-adjacent archetype in that way which might explain the appeal. yeah.

and by extension, the reason landoscar is so appealing to me is because it goes against the projection/image that oscar has intentionally set up for the world to see. like, that he’s focused on racing and racing only, and focused on obtaining the WDC. on paper and based on more conventional sports narrative cues lando could be an obstacle or rival for him, or someone oscar should keep his distance with. but he is not cool and detached with lando, he is not indifferent. in fact oscar is almost always the opposite of that — lando can be unpredictable and zany and annoying and super warm and funny and it makes oscar react in a way that’s like. not entirely on brand for a supposedly cool and detached racer boy.

yes his whole onscreen chemistry with lando is set up by mclaren marketing in a deliberate way to milk the teammate thing, show camaraderie, and get engagement. but the great thing about any good ship is that sometimes it can start that way and then go a little rogue beyond the marketing (see: oscar popping up recently in random sky interviews) and take on a weird life of its own. ‘cus lando and oscar seem to genuinely enjoy each other’s presence while helping each other and the team — like there’s many levels of coexistence or intimacy that you simply you would not get in a “normal” context of coworker because of the sheer stakes involved (hundreds of people basically working for you, the money and speed of f1, the travel, the sacrifices, the expectation, the pressure), and through it all it’s two people just kinda saying, “hey, i have come to enjoy your presence, i respect you, we can joke about this, we’re sharing this because you understand exactly what i’m going through right now”. that’s what makes it fun to play around with.

like, case in point. what is THIS???

and look big disclaimer that this is with the lens of the rpf glasses on and a huge element of this is projection, but also the reason we project and run rampant with our AUs and headcanons for the ship is because we have some breadcrumbs and see the potential. subtext!! imagination!! what a fun thing.

and wow. essay. i am papaya-pilled so bad y’all 😔✊

[bergoozter]

I don't think it's wrong for people to be upset about this. I don't want their company to fail, I wish the best for them, but this move really does feel like a kick in the face to a lot of people.

$6 for a video a week, tops, is wild to me. I understand that they need more money to keep up production but this feels like the worst way to do that. I keep trying to find a way of looking at this that's positive but it's so difficult. Especially since they're also taking down their past content (which Watcher told Variety was the plan, and Ryan later went back on?). The whole thing just feels convoluted and tone deaf.

Again, I don't hate them or hope for their downfall or anything awful like that, but the fans are the ones who have supported them this whole time, I think we're allowed to feel upset by such a massive change. (Especially with it being broadcasted as something we'd all be ecstatic to hear.)

Sorry to just dump this all here, I know you're likely still processing the news too, I guess I just wanted to add in my two cents? Idk, not to pull out the mom line, but I rlly do feel like I'm not angry, just disappointed 😭.

i think i feel similarly. i am still processing and haven’t fully decided how i feel yet. both sides are right but the people being mean and cruel are the wrong ones which i really do hate to see some have stooped so low.

artists should be paid but loyal audiences shouldn’t be blindsided. i feel like a lot of decisions were made without us which sounds so selfish to say but the sentiment is there.

what’s frustrating is 6$ doesn’t seem like a big ask but it is for a lot of people. apart from those who would pay it but can’t, casual viewers wouldn’t even if they could. like i have a coworker that just enjoys one of their shows and i can’t see them paying to watch it (i’ll share my login but that’s not the point i’m making). it just alienates a lot of their viewers. :/

i believe it is misinformation that they’re taking down all their past content but i could be wrong if someone wants to correct or clarify for me!

i still have a lot of questions that i’m hoping get answered or worked out before this launches in full. i’ve been floating between disappointed/nervous and wanting to be excited all day, i’m just ready for today to be over.

[nihilnovisubsole]

Because of your latest post: not sure if you’ve answered this before, but how does someone even entertain the idea of writing for the game dev industry? Did you start out on indie games or just write before and show them your work? Since it’s such a subjective field etc

if i have, it bears repeating! here's a rough timeline of what i did. never discount the value of luck and the kindness of friends

2016: i was doing a random freelance transcription job when i saw @theivorytowercrumbles post about writing for voltage. they reblogged the studio's open casting call for new writers. since it was so lenient - no experience, fanfic samples allowed - i applied. they hired me for their new project, but let me go after a trial period, citing that the tone of my writing was a bad fit for that game. i foundered for a while after that. i don't take rejection well. i started dangerous crowns to try to make money from writing some other way.

2017: one of voltage's producers reached out to me and said they'd started another project that i was a good fit for. she felt letting me go was a mistake and wanted to snap me back up. i said yes, i mean, are you kidding? so i started on reiner's route.

2018-2019: i kept at it. i took on diego's route. it occurred to me that i wasn't making very much money, but i liked my coworkers, and i was building my portfolio, so who cared? i also finished dangerous crowns, and a handful of people bought it, but certainly not enough to support myself or anything.

early 2020: between the pay and creative differences with voltage's team, it started to sink in that i needed to find other work. i applied to the few open game writer jobs i could find, but with only mobile romance in my portfolio, i got nowhere. i threw in dangerous crowns samples. i tried to network on twitter. i still never made it to the interview phase. i foundered for a while again.

late 2020: the voltage writers went on strike. i gave a statement to a journalist that one of obsidian's narrative designers noticed. we became acquaintances over it. another old friend of mine threw me a life raft in the form of a different contract, better paying, on a non-romance indie game. i took it gladly. i added a twine game to my portfolio, too. i kept applying. i got a few interviews, but something still didn't click.

2021: i finally accepted that i needed formal help. i did a portfolio workshop. i got resume coaching. the coach passed my name to a writer on the company of heroes team. they liked me! they also paid me more money than i'd ever seen in my life. at the same time, obsidian advertised a narrative job opening. i applied on a lark and let my ND pal know i was doing so. why not, right? college-new-vegas-fan me would want me to. they rejected me, but not before i passed their writing test and two interviews. i had nothing to lose at that point, so i told my ND pal that i was bummed. she gave me a golden piece of advice: "you came really close. try again."

2022: obsidian had another narrative opening. i threw myself at it. i was now going to annoy them into hiring me. since i was a known quantity from applying six months before, they had no qualms about interviewing me again. this time, it worked out, and i've been there ever since.

what's the common denominator here? i met people who thought i was all right and gave me a hand up when i needed it. the standard advice is to work with a community of your peers instead of trying to get your heroes to senpai-notice you. it's not that they don't care - they just have their own thing going on, and your peers could be the heroes of tomorrow if the right project comes along. i also found the portfolio was the end-all-be-all when it came to job hunting. i went through a grieving process with that! i'm not afraid to admit it. i wish studios had held my degree or dangerous crowns in higher regard, but i just had to make games in a wider variety of genres, and that was that.

one caveat: narrative is a really saturated field right now. a lot of people want to write, and there aren't many openings. it's not uncommon for big studios to get hundreds of applicants. larian probably got over a thousand for the job they posted recently. i feel awful saying that, because i don't want to discourage you, but i'd feel worse if i didn't let you know what you were getting into. if it's something you want, you should try! keep an open mind about the random projects you may find. you never know where they'll take you.

[vodika-vibes]

*Slides 50$ in Monopoly money*

Could I possibly get a smutty fic with Kix x GN reader in which reader has a crush on Kix and they end up missing a medical appointment and Kix has to chase them down? Btw love your writing!

The Physical

Summary: When you get too absorbed in your work, you tend to forget everything happening around you. You’ve forgotten to eat, to sleep, and, on one occasion, your own boyfriend. So no one is surprised when you don’t show up for your required physical. That doesn’t mean that you don’t need it though.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1932

Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I hope this is close to what you wanted. I was pretty careful to make the story as gender neutral as possible, in the sense that the reader has no gendered pronouns attached to them at all. Also, I made a divider for this story.

You’re a bit…scatterbrained.

You know it. Your parents know it. Your teachers from school knew it. 

Your coworkers know it better than most.

It’s not intentional. It’s not. You just get so absorbed in your work, that you forget anything else.

Unfortunately, for you, anything else really means everything else. You’ve skipped meals, you’ve skipped sleep. You’ve missed holidays and birthdays and everything in between.

You once forgot about a date that you planned and scheduled and paid for. 

And you try. You do try. You set reminders and calendar alerts, and it doesn’t matter because when you’re really absorbed in your work you just won’t hear them.

Luckily for you, the people you work with are unendingly patient with you and make a lot more allowances for you then they really should. It helps, probably, that you’re very good at what you do.

And that the men of the 501st genuinely like you.

You step out of your room, a private room close to where you work, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you see Kix standing there. “It’s about time you woke up.”

You stare at him for a moment, and then you look at your chrono, and then look back at Kix. “It’s barely 6. I can’t possibly be late to anything!”

“What? No. I’m here to remind you about your physical.”

“...oh. Right. That’s today isn’t it?” You glance at your comm, and make sure that the alert is saved, “I have alarms set, you don’t have to worry about me forgetting.”

“How many alarms?”

“...Four. Across two devices.” You admit.

He sighs, “That should be fine then.” He glances at his own datapad and frowns at something on the screen, “Why did you schedule for 12:30?”

“That’s the time I was assigned.” You reply with a shrug, “Is it a problem?” You ask as you lean in to get a glimpse of his datapad.

Kix quickly moves the datapad so you can’t see the screen and shoots you an amused look, “You know you’re not allowed to look at this.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” You lean back and flash a small grin at him.

“There’s nothing wrong, but the later in the day your appointment, the more likely it is that you’re going to forget.” Kix points out, and then he sighs, “It’s fine. You set alarms, so you’ll be there.”

“Right!” You pause and shoot him a curious look, “Will you be doing my exam?”

Part of you wants him to say yes. You’ve been crushing on him since the day you met him and having him touching you would be a dream come true. The rest of you is adamant that he absolutely does not do your physical because you’ll do or say something embarrassing.

“No.” Kix replies absently, seemingly not noticing your disappointment. “I’m the CMO of the Resolute, I don’t do physicals unless we’re really short handed.”

“Then why are you here reminding me?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“What, you don’t like chatting with me?” Kix asks with an amused grin. “I was heading this way anyway, and decided to take a moment to remind you.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“It is, isn’t it.” He claps your shoulder, “Anyway, I’ve distracted you enough as it is.” He pauses, “If I have to hunt you down because you forgot your physical after I came and reminded you, I’m going to be very cross.” He warns.

You fold your arms, “Honestly, it’s like people expect me to forget everything.”

“You don’t have the best record.” Kix points out.

“You’re not wrong but you don’t have to say it.” You mutter, and then your chrono chimes, “I have to go. Thanks for the reminder, Kix.”

“Sure.”

And then you both go separate ways. Your mind is already locked on the different projects that are waiting for you, and Kix to go and do whatever medical things that CMO does.

Later, you’re not really sure how much later, the door to your workshop slides open and a hand slams against the door panel, shutting and locking the door. 

You’re only half aware of it, as half of your body is bent in the engine compartment of a speeder. “Whatever is broken, put it on a table over there.” You say, your voice muffled by the screwdriver in your mouth, and you wave vaguely in the direction of a table on the other side of the room, “Make sure you leave a ticket.”

There’s the sound of something being dropped on a table, and then silence, so you go back to trying to figure out what’s wrong with the speeder. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Unfortunately, you’re not able to pick out clones by their voices yet, especially when you’re only half paying attention. “I’m sure there’s a working chrono over there somewhere.” You mumble in reply.

There’s silence again, and you’re almost sucked back into your work, when strong hands grip your hips and you’re physically lifted away from the speeder and set several feet away.

And then you’re roughly spun so you’re facing Kix.

You stare at him, wide eyed, more than a little startled. And the harshness in his gaze softens slightly, as he lightly plucks the screwdriver from your lips, and sets it on a table, and he sets his hands on your shoulders.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“...no?”

He closes his eyes, as though he’s asking for patience, “When were you supposed to go to the medbay for your physical?”

Your face falls, “...I missed it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

Your shoulders slump, “I’m sorry.”

Kix stares at you for a moment, and then he releases you, “Kriff. I can’t even stay mad at you.” He runs his hand over his head, “Look, I rescheduled your physical for first thing in the morning. You will be there, even if I have to drag you there myself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Kix.” You won’t meet his gaze, “I am sorry.”

“Forget it.”

“...why’s your kit here?” You ask, noting that his medical kit is sitting at your desk.

“I was worried you got hurt since you generally work by yourself.”

“Oh.” That’s fair, you decide. You stare at the medkit for a moment and then you clap your hands together, “I have an idea!” You hurry over so that you’re standing in front of Kix, “How about you give me my physical. Here. Now.”

“What?”

“You have all of the stuff you need, right?”

“I…technically, yes.” Kix says slowly.

“And this way there’s no worry about me missing another appointment-!”

“Wait, hold on. This is not something I can do.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” He falters and very pointedly doesn’t look you in the eye, “Because it would be inappropriate.” Kix finally admits.

“Come on, Kix. You’re the Chief Medical Officer, how could it possibly be inappropriate?” 

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he sighs, “Because my feelings in regards to you make it inappropriate.”

“...come again?”

Kix’s gaze is even as he scans your face, “Surely you’ve noticed how much time I spend with you? How much I talk to you?” His hand comes out to rest against your cheek, and his thumb brushes your lip, “How I worry about you all of the time?”

“I thought you were just being nice.” You admit.

“No. Well, not only. I-” He trails off, “Kriff, I want you so badly.”

You wrap your hand around his wrist and pull his hand away from your face, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t want to pressure you.”

You don’t reply, you just lean in and catch his lips in a deep kiss, and Kix responds immediately, his arms sliding securely around you. He walks backwards and settles on your stool, and you move to stand between his legs, not breaking the kiss.

You break the kiss first, and you press light kisses across his face, “I’ve wanted this since the day we met.” You admit as you trail your lips across his cheek.

He chuckles, “I’ve been fantasizing about you for the same amount of time.” There’s something roguish in his eyes, “I think…my first fantasy about you was you, on your knees, with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

You laugh softly, “That right?”

“You always have something in your mouth. A pen, a screwdriver, a fork, that one time I caught you with a wire in your mouth and nearly had a heart attack on the spot-”

You gaze at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then you grin at him and drop to your knees between his legs, and you lay your head on his knees.

“W-wait…I didn’t mean-” but he trails off and licks his lips, “You don’t have to.” He finally says.

“I want to.” Is your simple reply, “How do I remove your codpiece?”

“You let me do it.” Kix replies sounding slightly breathless, as he swiftly removes the piece of armor and sets it to the side. 

You sit back slightly as he does something, and his half hard cock pops free. It’s pretty you decide as you shift closer to him and lightly take him in hand, giving him a few strokes, until he’s completely hard in your hand. 

You glance up at Kix, who is breathing heavily, his gaze locked on your face. His pupils are blown wide, and you flash a small smile, before you lean in and lightly lick the head of his cock. 

You hear Kix release a groan and a curse, and that’s all you need.

You wrap your lips around him and slowly, painfully slowly, take him inch by inch, until you can’t take anymore of him in your mouth. And then you start a slow pace, you want to take your time and you want to hear as much of his groans and moans.

He sets his hand on your head, not pushing or trying to make you take more than you're comfortable with, but to encourage you. He strokes your hair, praises falling from his lips as you work him over with your lips and tongue.

“Kriff,” Kix groans, “This is so much better than my imagination.”

You pull off of him completely, using  your hands to continue the easy pace that you set, “Is it?” you ask.

“Kriff, yes.” Kix strokes your cheek, “Cyare…I-” He trails off as you take him back in your mouth, and his hips buck towards you. You’re not sure what he wants to say, but you’re pretty sure, whatever it is, can wait.

Kix’s praises start becoming more rambly, and you pull back so that you have your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, while using your hands to continue stroking him.

And then he groans, low and deep, as he spills his release in your mouth. You keep him in your mouth until he’s done, and then you swallow his release and sit back on the floor, using the sleeve of your shirt to wipe your lips. 

“I probably need more practice at that,” You murmur thoughtfully.

Kix doesn’t reply, he’s staring at you, a sly smile on his lips. 

“What?”

He slides off the stool to the ground and tugs you closer, his grin never once fading and a mischievous grin on his face, “I’m not done.” He breathes out, as he lays you back and hooks his arms around your thighs, “It’s only fair if I return the favor, don’t you think?”

[angelsanarchy]

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 01

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf (let me know if you wish to be tagged)

Mike sat in the passenger seat of Leff's 1970 Chrysler Newport which he treated like the child he always wanted. He was pissed to have been dragged out of bed so early to sit in the Train station parking lot. He had no idea who they were picking up or why he had to be with him but he was annoyed and tired.

"You're gonna need to get in the backseat." Leff said without looking at him.

"The fuck for?" Mike looked over at Leff who narrowed his eyes at him.

"Because I'd rather not watch Y/n embarrass you this early in the morning." He explained. Mike knew very little about this person they were picking up. He knew that they worked for Leff and just returned from doing an import run.

"He can sit in the backseat just fine." Mike laughed but when he felt Leff's gaze on him, he looked over at him.

"Are you fucking serious? I'm already comfortable, why do I have to move just because of them?" Mike whined.

"You sound like a fucking child." Leff groaned.

"You treat me like a fucking child." Mike argued. Leff rolled his eyes and continued to puff on a cigarette watching for this person to make their appearance.

"What's so special about this guy? I mean you made me take a fucking Uber from the airport when I got here but we're picking this guy up at the train station?" Mike asked curiously.

"Y/n works harder than you ever thought about working." Leff kept his eyes on the platform and Mike rolled his eyes.

"Y/n isn't a guy either so be respectful. Did your mother teach you any fucking manners?" Leff asked with frustration. Mike let out a laugh.

"So what? You fucking her?" Mike asked with his eyebrow up. Leff gave him a death glare before Mike put his hands up and got in the back seat mumbling about never getting any respect.

"Okay so this chick...what does she do exactly? I mean is she like Sicky? Is she like me, a runner?" Leff snorted.

"A runner? That's what you call yourself? She's not like either of you because she doesn't need a fucking job title to earn money." Leff explained.

"She's also off limits so don't even think about being cute with her, she'll cut your dick off before I even get a chance to slap you around for being an idiot." Leff pointed at him in the rearview with a warning.

"So you are fucking her?" Mike pressed and Leff swatted at him but he put his hands up.

"Jesus Christ! I'm just curious. What's her deal? Why am I not allowed to even ask about her?" Mike was getting irritated with how uptight Leff was being.

"She used to work for a nightclub that one of my competition works out of. I was fucking a few of her coworkers but she had reached out to me about your mom once." Mike's attention was piqued.

"What do you mean?" Mike pressed.

"When your mom was trying to get her fix, she would go to places like that and try and score. Y/n kept an eye on her for me but her boss wasn't too happy about it...tried to have her dealt with." Leff explained.

"But she works for you now? How did that pan out?" Mike was confused.

"Technically I paid a fee to take her out of the night club. The club boss didn't care, my competition still tries to make moves to bring her back into the fold over there." Leff shook his head.

"How can you trust someone who worked for the competition?" Mike asked and caught Leff's gaze in the mirror again.

"She got her ass nearly cut into pieces for getting your mom out of a deal gone wrong. I saved her life, got her out of that assholes crew. She doesn't have to suck dick or get her ass beat over here. She's worked her ass off and has never said no to a tough task. She's the best worker I got." Leff wanted Mike to know the situation with Y/n and how important she was to his team. She was a trustworthy person and had even known his mom. Mike really wanted to ask her about his mom but he knew Leff would probably shut that down.

It was still something that was too hard to talk about.

"There she is. Keep your dumbass comments to yourself or I'll kick your ass." Leff popped the trunk as she approached and she tossed two large duffels into the trunk before climbing into the car. Mike was surprised she was so attractive. He knew she once worked at a nightclub but she had naturally beautiful features.

"Who's Brokeback Mountain?" Y/n tossed her thumb to the backseat.

"Oh fuck off." Mike groaned in annoyance.

"That's my nephew, Mike. He's apart of the team now." Leff started to drive and Y/n turned back to look at him.

"Is this a permanent look or are you going through a phase of sorts where you like to suck dick?" Y/n asked with a smirk.

"You're one to talk with lips like that. Are you going for New York homeless or DC prostitute?" Mike fought back.

"Mike!" Leff growled but Y/n laughed.

"Oh he's going to be fun. I like him already." She turned in the seat and extended her hand.

"Y/n, I will absolutely be ripping you to shreds verbally on the daily." She smiled brightly and Mike felt a little part of him melt a little before taking her hand and shaking it.

"Mike and I look forward to going toe to toe with you any day sweetheart." He shook her hand and she flicked his cowboy hat.

"So does the hat get you any pussy?" Y/n asked curiously and Mike smirked.

"Why? You want to get in line?" He teased making Y/n laugh.

"This one is going to be trouble, you know that right?" She looked over at Leff who glared at her.

"Don't encourage is dumbass behavior. It will get him killed." Leff gritted.

"He'll be okay. You know Sicky and I will take good care of him." She tried to reassure and Mike was curious as to the touch she gave Leff's shoulder. Maybe she was into Leff? He needed to talk to her and get her story before he let himself get too interested in her.

"So you knew my mom?" Mike asked abruptly and the care grew silent. She looked over her shoulder and nodded at him.

"I did. She talked about you a lot....I'm sorry how things ended." Y/n looked at him with remorse and he wasn't expecting her to look so effected by the mention of her. He made a note to ask her about what she knew when Leff wasn't around.

"Are we done making friendship bracelets and braiding each others hair" Leff asked breaking up the silence.

"Don't' be jealous Leff. We can get you a cowboy hat if you want." She openly teased Leff and her glared at her. There was so much about her Mike wanted to know.

[jesteriajunovix]

Battleborn Ramble Before Bed. (No I will not be taking responsibility or criticism for anything I say in this post its 12 AM).

Sometimes I just put on battleborn voice lines in the background while I do stuff. It makes me think about what could've been...... Oh Orendi. Your annoyingly high-pitched voice and deeply 2016 voice lines will forever be left to the past.

Honestly lets talk about it. What if I lived in a world where they fleshed out Orendi and she had more traction in what would be a heightened battleborn fandom. Like she was kind of swaggin. I mean I'm already coping as hard as ever so I'll just say I REALLY REALLY wish I could grow more investment in this character through story and fanart. Like ya there are many other characters that fit her archetype better in present day while delivering more as a character already, but I feel like the character of Orendi is a dead chicken kind of just constantly rotting out of the corner of my eye. Like her design is cool. Her voice lines a lil cringe, but could be tempered with time and more story. She already had some stuff goin on with the other characters that seemed pretty cool.

Like it annoys me how overwatch killed this game considering how uninteresting recent overwatch characters have looked comparably. Its like comparing a Cybertruck to a Beetle Car almost.

Gearbox (Or Arc Games or whatever) and Blizzard both pretty shitty as companies so I won't argue anything on that between the two really.

Just specifically with the characters I feel like the fucky experimentation of battleborn was way more out there and less afraid to pull weird, but interesting punches that have been lost in overwatch due to like a shitty higher-up in staff cannibalizing another coworker or something and needing to cover it up by dangling keys via the Diversity Point giving Robots (Bosses/Managers) ability to hover over artist and tell them to make the most milk toast designs ever seen in FPS history, but with representation built in.

Not that anything is wrong with representation. Its just that an actual artist's and the abacus-fiddling dinosaur moneymen that are thinking of how to lay off and ruin more peoples lives at the company have different Ideas of representation and how it should be approached. One has soul and the other doesn't put simply.

"Oops! my anarchy Symbol"

Another thing that is more personal than it is critical is the fact that like..

Overwatch Character: "I am bathed in the sun of Ra!!! Death be up-"

I don't care being real. Like I get it. You're a cool mighty person on the side of good or "the syndicate" or you're homeless or your mentally disturbed or other by some dumb sci-fi research experiment shit. None of their lines I think i really fuck with, because the most fun they really have with it is maybe just a little cheekyness or other. It feels soft serve and generic marvel shit.

Battle Born Character: "Ew you're fucking poor. Kill yourself you FREAK!!! Your brokenness might rub off on me."

Lowkey I might be on some "Thing, Thing Japan" type timing, but with overwatch and battleborn. I just honestly feel like theres more heart when Marquis kills you and tells you to get your fuckin money up you POOR lowly InsIgnIfIcant weirdO AliEn FREAKAZOID.

Also Battleborns gameplay was more fun. It just had a confusing upgrade system that was actually pretty cool.

To end this ramble lets look at some more characters I wish had the time to get fleshed out and gain fandom momentum.

I love this corny nigga bro. Reminds me of like that one corny black coach/gym teacher you had in high school, but is still like a cool dude.

Marquis. Nough Said. He's a Poor Hating Robot made of gold with a silly lil sniper & he talks shit to you in a hammed-up German accent.....Literally perfect. Grow up.

Literally the most fun gameplay and across the board just cool as shit. If I had one criticism I wish he flew a little looser in game.

Proper British Representation. Tracer could never. I've seen at least 100 British people who look and sound exactly like this.

A lil more generic voiceline wise, but I like her energy and twang. More butch than any overwatch character I've seen. Lost Soldier.

Last, but not least I just want you to know the 7 other people wallowing in the ashes of the battleborn "Fandom" do not condone the words and actions of Ultra kid. Sick Fuck. I'm sorry and all the families affected you have our deepest condolences. We'll get through this.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 9

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1184

Masterlist

I hate your coworkers. I really do.

They're like the people from the books you love, but exactly the wrong kind. Not Shadow Moon but Henry Winter and Richard Gansey III. Rich assholes, all of them. They think they're working hard, but all their wealth was just handed to them.

And you? You think you belong among them.

I don't like this side of you, (Y/n). You live in a shitty apartment in one of the bad parts of town. You read books that make you feel something and go on unplanned walks and turn your face up to the sky when it rains. You're not like these people at all. Yet when you're around them, you act just like them. You drink too much. You laugh too loudly. And you get way too close, pressing yourself against your male coworkers like they have a shot with you.

You barely look at me.

These people aren't so hard to find out about. They all think they're very important, so they all have a huge online presence.

There’s Jasper Merrit, the guy who talks to you most and whose arm you keep slapping when he makes a joke. He's twenty-nine, comes from money (who here doesn't?), owns two houses and has a wife who isn't here and a girlfriend who is.

There's Kim Wheeler. She's tall and angry-looking. Thirty-seven without kids. She is your boss, and you are far too eager to be noticed by her. You make light conversation with her and tell jokes that aren't funny and really, (Y/n)? I didn't figure you to be the type who has mommy-issues.

There's Dana Morrison, who gives you the cold shoulder and who you give the cold shoulder back. Her Instagram has pictures of you together, though. The rift must have been recent. She is pregnant but has no husband or boyfriend - IVF, according to her Twitter. She wants to be a single mother - and owns a car that's worth ten times as much as your apartment.

There’s also Nick McKinnon. I guess I like Nick. His social media (LinkedIn only) tells me almost nothing about him, and he has no particular presence on Google, either. He's not from a rich family as far as I can tell and, more importantly, he talks to you without eying you like a piece of meat. He seems devoted to his girlfriend, who is trying desperately to befriend you even though you don't seem to notice. If we get a moment alone together, I might point it out to you.

We've been here for two hours now. The music is too loud, and you're definitely not enjoying it, but you're acting like you are. You're dancing with your coworkers and drinking another beer - you don't like beer, though. You told me so - and you're getting kind of drunk.

But then, suddenly, you're hanging around my shoulders, and in an instant I forgive this entire day.

“I need a break. Come somewhere quiet with me?” you shout in my ear.

I nod.

There is nowhere quiet to go, but at least there's somewhere quieter, away from the main stage and between the food stalls, where there's currently almost nobody because apparently the guy performing his shitty songs right now is kind of a big deal.

It doesn't matter where we are, or that I have a headache from all the music. I take the fact that we don't have to shout at each other as an absolute win.

You stumble and I catch your elbow. You laugh quietly, the way you usually laugh. I feel relieved because it means the way you've been acting today is all just that: acting.

“Sorry,” you tell me. “I’m a lightweight. I probably should have warned you.”

“It's okay.”

You turn and stumble into me. You could stand on your own, but you want to be close to me. You press your face into my shirt.

“You hate this, don't you?”

“I'm okay,” I say.

You snort. It would be an unattractive sound, but I like it because it means you see right through me. You know me, and I love that.

“You've barely said a word to anyone. You've just been on your phone this whole time.”

“I'm… nervous.”

“I shouldn't have brought you today.” Your hands run up my arms. “I knew you probably wouldn't like it. I don't know. I thought I might have more fun if I brought you along.” You pause. “You're so good, Joe. Not like these people at all.”

“Oh?” I say. I don't want to sound like I'm fishing for compliments but I really, really want you to elaborate.

“They're all so… None of them are real like you.” You sigh. “With them, I always feel like I'm saying or doing exactly the wrong thing. Kim always just stares at me like I'm a child and Dana… you know she told me I try too hard?”

You do try too hard, (Y/n). At least with these people. Why do you even want them to like you? They're not worth your time.

“And it's, like, of course I try!” You continue. “She just doesn't get it because she's never had to try at anything in her life. Everybody just automatically likes her and if they don't, she has enough money to buy their affection.” You pull away from me. “Sorry, I'm sorry.”

“What for?” I ask.

“I'm venting at you. I shouldn't do that. You didn't consent to that.”

“Consider this me, consenting,” I tell you. “That's what…” I pause, deliberately. “Friends… are for.”

“Right, well…” You step away from me, just slightly, and wring your hands together. “God, I'm such an idiot.”

“If you want, we can just leave.”

“We could do that, couldn't we? It's not even like I have to be here. Ninety percent of the company isn't.”

“Let's go somewhere else,” I suggest. “Get a cheap burger, some coffee, sober you right up.”

You smile. But then, you shake your head. “It's only been two hours. It'll seem weird.”

“It can totally be my fault,” I say. “'Oops, sorry guys, my bookstore's being broken into. We gotta go.'” I shrug. “I'd have to take you with me because I'm the sober one. I'm supposed to get you home safe.”

You consider this.

“Maybe.”

I can't push you. It needs to be your choice to go with me. You need to choose me over these assholes, or this won't work. Let me just make that clear now, (Y/n).

“We can stay if you want,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “I'm just saying, we don't have to if you don't want to.”

“I want to leave,” you decide. “But no lying. I'm a shit liar. They'll just figure it out at work tomorrow. I'll tell them we're going and meet you back here.”

“Okay then,” I say. “Are you good to walk on your own, though?”

“I'm fine,” you say. And you're right: you are a shitty liar.

I mean, you manage to walk on your own, but it looks pretty funny.