#i wanted to pay the rest of my credit card bill after getting paid and accidentally cash advanced my entire credit limit into my account 🫠

[ceasarslegion]

Banks can reverse transactions right because i just did something really stupid by accident after just waking up and it would tank my near-perfect credit score if it remained on my record

[robertreich]

The Biggest Economic Lies We’re Told

In America, it’s expensive just to be alive.

And with inflation being driven by price gouging corporations, it’s only getting more expensive for regular Americans who don’t have any more money to spend.

Just look at how Big Oil is raking it in while you pay through the nose at the pump.

That’s on top of the average price of a new non-luxury car — which is now over $44,000. Even accounting for inflation, this is way higher than the average cost when I bought my first car — it’s probably in a museum by now.

Even worse, the median price for a house is now over $440,000. Compare that to 1972, when it was under $200,000.

Work a full-time minimum wage job? You won’t be able to afford rent on a one-bedroom apartment just about anywhere in the U.S.

And when you get back after a long day of work, you’ll likely be met with bills up the wazoo for doctor visits, student loans, and utilities.

So what’s left of a paycheck after basic living expenses? Not much.

You can only reduce spending on food, housing, and other basic necessities so much. Want to try covering the rest of your monthly costs with a credit card? Well now that’s more expensive too, with the Fed continuing to hike interest rates.

All of this comes back to how we measure a successful economy.

What good are more jobs if those jobs barely pay enough to live on?

Over one-third of full time jobs don’t pay enough to cover a basic family budget.

And what good are lots of jobs if they cause so much stress and take up so much time that our lives are miserable?

And don’t tell me a good economy is measured by a roaring stock market if the richest 10 percent of Americans own more than 80 percent of it.

And what good is a large Gross Domestic Product if more and more of the total economy is going to the richest one-tenth of one percent?  

What good is economic growth if the way we grow depends on fossil fuels that cause a climate crisis?

These standard measures – jobs, the stock market, the GDP – don’t show how our economy is really doing, who is doing well, or the quality of our lives.

People who sit at their kitchen tables at night wondering how they’re going to pay the bills don’t say to themselves

“Well, at least corporate profits are at record levels.”

In fact, corporations have record profits and CEOs are paid so much because they’re squeezing more output from workers but paying lower wages. Over the past 40 years, productivity has grown 3.5x as fast as hourly pay.

At the same time, corporations are driving up the costs of everyday items people need.

Because corporations are monopolizing their markets, they don’t have to worry about competitors. A few giant corporations can easily coordinate price hikes and enjoy bigger profits.

Just four firms control 85% of all beef, 66% of all pork, and 54% of all poultry production.

Firms like Tyson have seen their profit margins skyrocket as they jack up prices higher than their costs — forcing consumers who are already stretched thin to pay even more.

It’s not just meat. Weak antitrust enforcement has allowed companies to become powerful enough to raise their prices across the entire food industry.

It’s the same story with household goods. Giant companies like Procter & Gamble blame their price hikes on increased costs – but their profit margins have soared to 25%. Hello? They care more about their bottom line than your bottom, that’s for sure.

Meanwhile, parents – and even grandparents like me – are STILL struggling to feed their babies because of a national formula shortage. Why? Largely because the three companies who control the entire formula industry would rather pump money into stock buybacks than quality control at their factories.

Traditionally, our economy’s health is measured by the unemployment rate. Job growth. The stock market. Overall economic growth. But these don’t reflect the everyday, “kitchen table economics” that affect our lives the most.

These measures don’t show the real economy.

Instead of looking just at the number of jobs, we need to look at the income earned from those jobs. And not the average income.

People at the top always bring up the average.

If Jeff Bezos walked into a bar with 140 other people, the average wealth of each person would be over a billion dollars.

No, look at the median income – half above, half below.

And make sure it accounts for inflation – real purchasing power.

Over the last few decades, the real median income has barely budged. This isn’t economic success.

It's economic failure, with a capital F.

And instead of looking at the stock market or the GDP we need to look at who owns what – where the wealth really is.

Over the last forty years, wealth has concentrated more and more at the very top. Look at this;

This is a problem, folks. Because with wealth comes political power.

Forget trickle-down economics. It’s trickle on.

And instead of looking just at economic growth, we also need to look at what that growth is costing us – subtract the costs of the climate crisis, the costs of bad health, the costs of no paid leave, and all the stresses on our lives that economic growth is demanding.

We need to look at the quality of our lives – all our lives. How many of us are adequately housed and clothed and fed. How many of our kids are getting a good education. How many of us live in safety – or in fear.

You want to measure economic success? Go to the kitchen tables of America.

[aita-polls]

AITA for spending 1/3 of my paycheck on a Friday the 13 flash tattoo

**I am not the OP and do not claim the statements below to be my own** [Link to Reddit Post]

Okay so my husband (34m) is pissed at me (33f) for spending about 1/3 of my paycheck on a tattoo. So backstory to start. I have been unemployed for the last year, to focus on college work and my mental health, and I recently started a new job. When I got the job my husband and I agreed that I would give him 25% of each paycheck to help with bills. He also agreed that this arrangement would take effect on my second paycheck and that the first was mine to spend as I wish. Great, love that for me. Here lies the issue. My paycheck was around $350, I immediately put $50 into my savings. I have been wanting a Friday the 13th tattoo for years but I have never found one that jumped out at me until this year. A local artist put out a flash sheet and I fell in love with this really cool piece. So I booked an appointment and got the tattoo. It was $100. My husband has been lecturing me about how stupid and impulsive it was and how I shouldn't have spent 1/3 of my paycheck on something as stupid as a tattoo when I have a credit card bill to pay. He is barely speaking to me now and it's making me feel like shit. I'm so happy with the tattoo and I still have plenty of money to pay my bills and sustain me until my next paycheck, but he keeps bringing it up and telling me it was stupid. So AITA for spending 1/3 of my paycheck on a tattoo?

(More information from OP’s comments below the cut)

(INFO: Will you doing this require him to bail you out financially? Is he going to have to spend money he's earned to pay your bills, feed you, etc because you decided you wanted a tattoo? Or are you able to pay all your bill, food, rent, etc with the remaining $200?) Nope! I took in to account the bills and everything else I needed to pay before deciding to do it. My total personal monthly bills are less that $150. Everything else we spilt the cost of, and that is what my 25% will go towards. We own our house, my gas bill is less that $10 a month (I drive a moped) and my phone bill is $80 a month. I budgetd 150 for "bills and misc expenses"

(How is it possible that your half of all shared monthly bills comes out to $88?) It's doesn't. My PERSONAL bills are about 100. 25% of my income will go to my husband to put toward bills and the rest will be for my own bills, savings, and whatever else. 30% of my husband's income goes toward our shared bills like the mortgage, utilities, groceries etc. Thay 30% also includes his personal bills like gas and credit cards.

(Did you still pay your CC bill?) I did still pay my cc bill (I didn't even use the cc before I started at the new job once it was initially paid off so I wouldn't have a bill to pay while unemployed) I also put money into savings even though he told me I didn't need to since this first check was less than half of what I will normally be making. He made almost 3 times what I make and even though I will be giving him 25% of my pay (honestly I will likely give him more than that) I know that he will likely just put it in a savings account instead of using it for bills.

The credit card bill was less than $80. I used it sparingly because I knew I didn't have the money. IT was mainly for gas and medical co-pays and medicine. {(If your credit card bill was less than $80 then you should have paid it off)} I paid it off right after I booked the tattoo appointment

(That doesn't make sense, you say he makes 3 times what you do. If you get 350 a week, that's 1400 a month. That would mean he makes 4200. So how does he have 5k left over ?) The 350 was less than half of what a normal paycheck will be. Which is one of the reasons we agreed that I didn't need to give him the 25%

[the-firebird69]

There's a lot of stupid things going on in the Mac proper said that Trump is not going to get in office and they're probably going to shove him in there and card him around and he doesn't like it but they keep doing it and Camilla and Biden heard it and they're not really happy but they're being assholes all the time anyways they can't help it is going to problem and we will defend our son regardless of your bloodline because it usually is worse than people you don't know. We are going to express it to you since we have the excuse we're also going to take your stuff and get it to him because he died and you don't want to fix it cuz you're stupid and you say you got somewhere you got rid of your clan by accident cuz you're dumb you ruin their lives you got hit by a car because you're stupid you trusted garage essay but she wanted to have hope in someone and it was wrong and you almost died a lot is it filthy murder and you're a loser his name is Charles Manson. Normal. Because you're gone you're going after your assets and it's good we're going to heat you up and light you up along with Joe and he needs it he's a dick you guys died a while ago and you don't care Ken is still cruising along no it kind of died but wants to get back to these idiots he sees that our son has a plan as one person and it works and they really are really stupid and they really are. We've been working together for a long time thousands of years with a son and daughter and my wife we have a crew too but we're always on and you guys don't have a clue. Right now we are preparing to go after more assets of yours in order to try and get our son some things and we see that you are just a pile of s*** is what he's been trying to explain until we flush this s*** he's not going to get anything nobody can get anything in here back Daddy said it it's just a big pile of s*** and we keep on saying we can do stuff and you can't do anything cuz they're all s*** means I smoked and burns and cooked and they need to leave and it's happening finally the radiation is killing me they don't do anything about it cuz they're stupid so we are going to go ahead and start ruining these already ruined people and make sure they're out this is disgusting the scene in the mall is what he was hoping for and the guys helped out and that's what they are selfish disgusting pigs and if they're on all fours they look like pigs. And they should be slaughtered cuz they treat our son very badly and they're mean bullies.

---there's a few other things going on you're saying is GMAC mortgage is a lot of money the rest of it is like $700 and they keep up with that asinine number and really I don't even think you're going to get to attack the wall this time you're so stupid. You blame your women and it's why you have gas in your truck and saw your truck is still there say make sure the pain is paid and you don't believe in that so you go off you lose a whole bunch of stuff and you try and blame them they're the ones who keep it together but you won't have enough to get approach the wall you ain't going to do it. Thankfully and there's a bunch of money mortgage is the GMAC it's not for his truck although it's the same company and that was odd but he was paying a mortgage to a second mortgage company and they really screwed him up because he was double paying it at one point and he wrote them letters and called them they finally stopped billing him they stopped paying but he paid like three or four months and it was like $1,500 or something it's a lot of money and they owe him a lot more than that but it's really at least $5,000 sunset 6500 and it could be getting that money and he needs it to pay off his credit card that's what it's going to do and John remillard protests so we are going after him they were going to take things from him and stick him in the concrete room and we believe that's him tossing Jason around in the video tool and sings so we are going to take it out on you losers and really you need it bad. Be here they want to put sewer in it costs a lot of money but they're going to be out of here before that happens it takes some years to do anything and they're trying to do it to our son is what it's why they're doing it they're a bunch of losers so going to flush and boy you look stupid John remillard people take your money you don't mean and stupid to our son so they take your stuff and we needed that but boy you over the top you're a little s*** aren't you just keep in mind that that's what's getting rid of you and boy do you look dumb.

-there's a couple other things going on we have movement on a few line items here one of them is our son's money people are noticing that some people are trying to get him some money and idiots are in the way and they're noticing that most of the idiots are in the way things are in the way of them getting their money and they're going after them this time it's probably going to hold because they're losing their threat and their power it's a lot of money and it is everywhere it is all kinds of money that you can think of and all forms of assets included in that group people like Camilla she is special and Trump is riding on his own kind all the time that guy's a fool and he doesn't realize what he's doing because he's acting like the person that he's acting like I mean come on what a stupid a****** nobody even believes the ACT he just keeps doing it and people are shooting him down it's gross but yeah she's special and Mom can't do what she wants and she's an idiot couple other things we do have a system in place you don't need to know about it and you don't need to try and advertise it when you do you kind of killing yourself so you suggest you stop doing it

I am of course going to take your insults out on you and you are going to pay your people here if we can call you people not really he says this is proof right here and they're just really going to die and that's all they want to do you have several things to report

Thor Freya

Olympus

[helvetica12point]

I think we actually have the boomers to blame for all the automated phone systems and chatbots.

Boomers have always been more likely to want to get information from another person before seeking it out themselves. I'm not sure if this is because information used to be harder to find or if it's just some weird bizarre subculture thing, but that generation has always been far more likely to call for basic info than to try to look it up. This resulted in recorded messages with common info, like hours and that sort of thing. Then as technology got better it made more sense to automate the more common and straightforward issues. Plus, by having it automated, it means that the business on the other end is saving money because they don't have to pay humans to field those calls. And let's be honest, a certain generation is much more likely to call and angrily berate a person for something they have nothing to do with and no control over, so anything that prevents those people from getting through is a good thing. Like, I was an evening cashier for a while at a local furniture/appliance store and my main reason for existence was so a human answered the phone after 5pm. One night this woman calls at like, 7pm because her oven had a fire and stopped working and she had to have cook some sort of aperitifs or h'ordourves or something for a party the next day and I'm just like, did you call the fire department? Our service department closed at six, I can take a message about getting a repair person out but there is literally nothing that we can do for you before tomorrow morning. I remained polite while she just went off (it was a small fire, nothing to worry about). People like that are a big part of why automated systems exist tho.

THAT SAID

the rest of us hate using phones so much that we won't use it unless absolutely necessary, so if we're calling it's not something a bot can handle and by forcing us to endure 20 minutes of automated phone system that has no way to bypass it, that literally guarantees that every single customer will be irate and pissed off by the time they get the human they needed in the first place. Even customers who would ordinarily be chill will be infuriated because a) the option they need doesn't exist b) the system just keeps shuffling them around c) no one wants their account details read to them before they can do anything d) and godsdamnit why do I have to input my account information when the human is going to ask me for it again.

The online chat bots are differently bad in that at least you don't have to listen to the agonizingly slow phone system voice that also makes you want to punch a person, but they're even more stupid than the phone systems and have the nerve to pretend to human. I would actually prefer the bot to acknowledge that it is one. "I'm sorry, I'm just a poor bot," is a much better phrase to deescalate than, "hahaha of course I'm human." Like, it shows me what to expect.

If I have a problem that can be solved with a bot, I don't mind to use one, it's less trouble for a human on the other end. But 9.5 times out of 10, if I am contacting a company it is not something that a bot can handle. It is something weird, like calling the cable company to bury my neighbor's cable line because the lazy fucks who installed it just draped it over my fence. Or trying to figure out why we got a bill in my late mother in law's name with a balance on it for my late father in law's credit card that we paid off and closed out. Like, she been dead for over ten years, not sure how that works.

I'm going to sound like a boomer, but

Chat bots are not sufficient customer support, and I shouldn't have to have an account with the cable company to use it. I shouldn't have to type or say "speak with human" three times to get to a human. And the "human" that answers should actually be human.

[truck-fump]

The Biggest Economic Lies We’re ToldIn America, it’s expensive...

New Post has been published on https://robertreich.org/post/710162153749004288

The Biggest Economic Lies We’re ToldIn America, it’s expensive...

The Biggest Economic Lies We’re Told

In America, it’s expensive just to be alive.

And with inflation being driven by price gouging corporations, it’s only getting more expensive for regular Americans who don’t have any more money to spend.

Just look at how Big Oil is raking it in while you pay through the nose at the pump.

That’s on top of the average price of a new non-luxury car — which is now over $44,000. Even accounting for inflation, this is way higher than the average cost when I bought my first car — it’s probably in a museum by now.

Even worse, the median price for a house is now over $440,000. Compare that to 1972, when it was under $200,000.

Work a full-time minimum wage job? You won’t be able to afford rent on a one-bedroom apartment just about anywhere in the U.S.

And when you get back after a long day of work, you’ll likely be met with bills up the wazoo for doctor visits, student loans, and utilities.

So what’s left of a paycheck after basic living expenses? Not much.

You can only reduce spending on food, housing, and other basic necessities so much. Want to try covering the rest of your monthly costs with a credit card? Well now that’s more expensive too, with the Fed continuing to hike interest rates.

All of this comes back to how we measure a successful economy.

What good are more jobs if those jobs barely pay enough to live on?

Over one-third of full time jobs don’t pay enough to cover a basic family budget.

And what good are lots of jobs if they cause so much stress and take up so much time that our lives are miserable?

And don’t tell me a good economy is measured by a roaring stock market if the richest 10 percent of Americans own more than 80 percent of it.

And what good is a large Gross Domestic Product if more and more of the total economy is going to the richest one-tenth of one percent?  

What good is economic growth if the way we grow depends on fossil fuels that cause a climate crisis?

These standard measures – jobs, the stock market, the GDP – don’t show how our economy is really doing, who is doing well, or the quality of our lives.

People who sit at their kitchen tables at night wondering how they’re going to pay the bills don’t say to themselves

“Well, at least corporate profits are at record levels.”

In fact, corporations have record profits and CEOs are paid so much because they’re squeezing more output from workers but paying lower wages. Over the past 40 years, productivity has grown 3.5x as fast as hourly pay.

At the same time, corporations are driving up the costs of everyday items people need.

Because corporations are monopolizing their markets, they don’t have to worry about competitors. A few giant corporations can easily coordinate price hikes and enjoy bigger profits.

Just four firms control 85% of all beef, 66% of all pork, and 54% of all poultry production.

Firms like Tyson have seen their profit margins skyrocket as they jack up prices higher than their costs — forcing consumers who are already stretched thin to pay even more.

It’s not just meat. Weak antitrust enforcement has allowed companies to become powerful enough to raise their prices across the entire food industry.

It’s the same story with household goods. Giant companies like Procter & Gamble blame their price hikes on increased costs – but their profit margins have soared to 25%. Hello?

They care more about their bottom line than your bottom, that’s for sure.

Meanwhile, parents – and even grandparents like me – are STILL struggling to feed their babies because of a national formula shortage. Why? Largely because the three companies who control the entire formula industry would rather pump money into stock buybacks than quality control at their factories.

Traditionally, our economy’s health is measured by the unemployment rate. Job growth. The stock market. Overall economic growth. But these don’t reflect the everyday, “kitchen table economics” that affect our lives the most.

These measures don’t show the real economy.

Instead of looking just at the number of jobs, we need to look at the income earned from those jobs. And not the average income.

People at the top always bring up the average.

If Jeff Bezos walked into a bar with 140 other people, the average wealth of each person would be over a billion dollars.

No, look at the median income – half above, half below.

And make sure it accounts for inflation – real purchasing power.

Over the last few decades, the real median income has barely budged. This isn’t economic success.

It’s economic failure, with a capital F.

And instead of looking at the stock market or the GDP we need to look at who owns what – where the wealth really is.

Over the last forty years, wealth has concentrated more and more at the very top. Look at this;

This is a problem, folks. Because with wealth comes political power.

Forget trickle-down economics. It’s trickle on.

And instead of looking just at economic growth, we also need to look at what that growth is costing us – subtract the costs of the climate crisis, the costs of bad health, the costs of no paid leave, and all the stresses on our lives that economic growth is demanding.

We need to look at the quality of our lives – all our lives. How many of us are adequately housed and clothed and fed. How many of our kids are getting a good education. How many of us live in safety – or in fear.

You want to measure economic success? Go to the kitchen tables of America.

[amjustagirl]

Love knows not its depth (until the hour of separation) 

pairing: Kuroo x f! reader  genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! warnings: a tiny smudge of suggestive content wc: 4.9k m.list ~ taglist. ~

a/n: this is my rendition of a grown up Kuroo. life has been a little hectic for me recently, so i’m only getting around to posting it now. pls be kind and i hope y’all love it <3 

“I need a break.”

Kuroo continues to snore. You are unsurprised he doesn’t hear you. After all, he came home glassy eyed, smelling strongly of alcohol after yet another night of drinks with his boss before quickly falling asleep in bed. It’s what he does most weekday nights, leaving you alone at home to manage your two daughters and tuck them into bed. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro.”

You are too tired to even tell him how you feel. You have a career of your own, two daughters to raise, a never ending list of chores and errands that must be done. You are a mother, a wife, a career woman. You have so many roles to play yet there is no space for you. 

You must do something, anything or risk your heart imploding in your very chest. 

You cannot survive that. 

The next morning, you call your boss, ask for a day off. Then you pack your girls off to your mother’s place with two little suitcases with toys and clothes enough for a long weekend before you take the train to Hakone, check yourself into the ryokan with a view of Mt. Fuji that you spent your honeymoon at - except this time, you’re alone (but then again, you’ve been lonely for so long, you hardly notice the difference anymore).

You dip yourself into the hot waters of the onsens, watch bamboo sway in the breeze. It’s been at least a year since you’ve been even able to take a bath uninterrupted. There’s always something - Aiko needing help with her homework, Fumiko whining for another piece of mochi, your boss calling to chase for yet another report, so all you’ve ever had time for is a hurried shower before placating your daughters or seating yourself in front of your laptop to deal with your boss. 

Finally, you’ve stolen a day to yourself. It’s absolute bliss. 

The water is kind to you. Its heat soothes your aching muscles, the rising steam steadies your breath. You walk out of the baths feeling refreshed, renewed, but when you enter your room you find Kuroo Tetsuro waiting for you. 

“I’ve been calling your phone all afternoon”, he says, face pinched. “I was worried.”

“Were you?” you say before you can stop yourself. “Really?” 

“Of course”, he says, uncrossing his legs to stand. “You’re my wife and the mother of my children, of course I care.”

Wife. Mother. Employee. 

The roles that life has handed you haunts you again. There is no escape for you. 

Your skin suddenly feels as if it’s stretched too tight over your frame. Your bones rattle, brittle. They threaten to break if you take another breath. Yet you laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound spilling from your lips filling the room, suffocating the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you really cared, you would have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between bouts of laughter. “I tried fixing myself with a break but you can’t even give me that.” 

Kuroo stares at you, equal parts horrified and confused. He takes a hesitant step forward towards you before thinking the better of it, swerving over to the kettle instead, clutching it as if it holds the cure to your madness. 

“Calm down”, he says, “take a seat”, and you do. He offers you a cup of tea. You accept it, even though you’re still shaking from the aftershock of your laughter. “Drink”, he says, and you bring the cup to your lips, though you wonder absently why you taste salt in the bitter tea. 

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 

You want to tell him that you’re not strong enough to do what’s expected of you. You want to tell him that you’re drowning from the weight of being his wife, the mother of his kids, from being a working woman that he can be proud of. You want to tell him that you understand his career is important, but so is yours, and you can’t carry the weight of the world alone. 

But that would take too many words, and you are far, far too tired for that. 

So you say blankly - “I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

His face falls. 

You should remember that Kuroo Tetsuro, first and foremost, is a child scarred by his parents’ divorce. You should remember that you made promises that you and he would never put your daughters through that. But you’ve floated beyond hysteria into a grey indifference, your mind too broken, too tired, too numb to consider him when you can barely even hold on to yourself. 

You don’t even notice the hot tears soaking through your yukata. You are deaf to his pleas to give him another chance. There is nothing left in you to give because you’ve poured all you’ve had into him, into your family, into your job. You are so, so empty, and you just sit and sip your tea and wonder idly if the warmth from the liquid you’re ingesting will make you feel a little more alive, or if it’s possible to ease the dull ache in your heart. 

It is only when you wake up the next day and the sun is high in the sky that you register that he rolled out your futon for you, tucked you into bed, and kissed your forehead as a goodnight and goodbye. But all of this is washed away by the relief you feel when you read the note he’s left behind telling you that he’s returned to Tokyo, and to enjoy your break. 

So you do. 

You relish every bite of the meals you have at the ryokan. It’s nice not having to cook or scarf down your food at your office desk for once. You fill your time flitting between the onsens and curling up in your room with a book, taking frequent cat naps until tomorrow comes around again and it’s time to check out and head home. 

There’s a brief moment of surprise when the reception informs you politely that your husband already paid your bill - but you suppose that’s just Tetsuro being efficient at racking up credit card points. The bullet train takes you back to Tokyo, and a couple stops on the subway takes you home.  

“Okaeri”, you call softly out of habit, not expecting anyone to respond, but Kuroo responds with an even softer ‘Tadaima’, striding over to take your bags from you and usher you into the apartment. There are pink roses sitting in a vase, but you pay it no mind. 

“The girls?” you ask, already headed in the direction of their room. 

“I picked them up from your mom”, Kuroo responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed”.

A peek into their room and it settles your mind to see that your girls are safe and sound asleep. 

“Thanks,” you say, back in the kitchen, checking the fridge for what you can whip up for breakfast for you and the girls tomorrow. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine”, Kuroo answers, scratching his head. His hair seems a little more rumpled than usual. “I’ll cover it. I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

“You sure? You don’t have to pay for me, I’ve got money of my own.”

“No, let me pay for it, please. It’s the least I can do.” 

You shrug. “Okay”, you say gracelessly. “Thank you.”

He continues to watch you over the kitchen counter as you lay out bread, eggs, ham, cheese. It’ll do for a quick breakfast for the girls tomorrow, never mind the guilt eating away at you that you really should do better than feeding them processed food all the time. You’re so preoccupied with planning the morning rush, the best way to clear the stack of reports that must have piled up on your desk at work by now that you miss Kuroo rounding the counter to stare down at you worriedly. 

“You haven’t had dinner?” 

“Oh no, I had a bento on the train on the way back.” It’s second nature to you to brush away anyone’s concern. “It’s for the girls’ breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them to childcare before work tomorrow. Sleep in and take a break.”

“Really?” You stare back at him, confused. He doesn't even take charge of the girls in the mornings when you’re sick, your mother always has to fill in your place. He only ever turns up on the first day of school each year. 

“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve rearranged my work schedule so I can take them to school all of this week at least.”

“Oh”, you say, brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay, I guess. Wake me up if you need my help.”

“I won’t”, he replies, with a cocky smirk that seems almost false. “Goodnight, love.”

You don’t think of Kuroo’s strange behaviour overmuch, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Kuroo continues to act strangely all of next week. 

As promised, he takes charge of getting the girls out of bed and ready for school. But you’re taken aback when he starts coming home for dinner, completely floored when he hands you a whole armful of bath salts and orders you to take a relaxing, hot bath while he wrangles both the girls and the washing machine into submission. 

He even calls your mother to ask her to babysit on a Saturday evening so he can take you out for dinner at a fancy restaurant that serves foam instead of food. You manage to stumble through conversation with him - a commendable effort, since it’s been so long since you’ve even held a proper conversation with him besides snatches of discussion about the girls. 

At least until he states during dessert - “we can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

The mousse on your spoon melts by the time you put it down on your plate. 

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls? Is that what this is about?”

Kuroo shakes his head frantically, reaches across the table for your hand, but you yank it away with a glare. The extra rest you’ve gotten this week has injected a little more fight in you. 

“I try my best to be a good wife and mother, but I’m sorry I can’t be perfect and be there for you and the girls 24/7.” You press down on the sliver of cake with a vengeance. Clink! goes the flat of your spoon against the porcelain plate. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but I don’t want to be reliant on you.”

You regret your harsh words when Kuroo slumps back into his chair, murmuring “I just wanted you to be happy. Forget I ever said that.”

He pays the bill and you walk home in silence. He bids you goodnight with a crumpled smile. 

It finally clicks when you are startled awake by Kuroo’s shout of alarm. 

You roll over, grabbing his shoulder to shake him awake from the nightmare that has him in its grip. His eyes jolt open, and the sight of your face makes him sink back into the pillow with a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave? This is my home, isn’t it?” You mumble, turning your back to him again. 

You feel the bed shift as Kuroo sits up. 

“No”, he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I was afraid you left me”. 

Oh. So that’s what all of this is about. 

You must stay quiet for far too long, because he gingerly crawls over to you. 

“Dearest”, he says, your heart suddenly aching because you don’t remember the last time you heard him use that pet name with any amount of affection. “Darling”, he tries again, pawing at your back. You shut your eyes resolutely and refuse to turn to face him. 

He doesn’t give up, even though the distance between you seems to yawn wide and wider with each passing second. 

“Are you?” he asks, his words small, shrunken in the still, dark room. “Going to leave me, I mean.” 

No, you’re about to say, the word balancing at the tip of your tongue but it feels wrong. Your break has given you the space to breathe, the time to think. It’s made you realise what you’ve said to him in the ryokan that night remains true. 

This week has shown you that Kuroo can do better as a husband, as a father if he wants to. But he’s poisoned your marriage with neglect, forced you to dress up your sadness in silence, allowed your resentment to fester and simmer into frigid indifference. If you reassure him that you aren’t going to leave him, it’s only because you’re too tired to, not because you actually love him anymore. 

“I don’t know, Tetsuro. Our daughters deserve to grow up with both their parents, but I’m not sure I want them to learn from my example that it’s okay to shoulder the weight of marriage, parenthood and a full time job all by themselves. Your dreams and career are important, I know, but I’m just so tired of being alone in this marriage when it was always supposed to be a partnership between me and you.” 

You hear him choke back a sob. You should comfort him, but the exhaustion you feel at being honest with him, with yourself, weighs your bones down, forces you to sink further down into your mattress. 

“I’m sorry”, he finally says. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro”, you whisper brokenly, clutching the blankets to your chin. “I think I deserve better.”

“I know. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

You want to ask him how, but your eyelids grow heavy, and you allow yourself to submerge into slumber. 

You’re not sure what to expect, but the ground beneath your feet shifts. Things start to change. 

Kuroo continues to take your daughters to childcare in the morning on the way to work as he did last week. That very weekend, he straps Fumiko to his chest, takes Aiko by her hand, and within an hour at the department store aided by a flash of his credit card, he purchases a dishwasher and robot vacuum for the house. He loads the dishes without you asking, runs the robot vacuum remotely once a day. It buys you time to breathe, a little more time to sleep. 

He doesn’t always make it home in time for dinner, but he tries his best to rush home so he can read the girls a bedtime story and tuck them into bed. 

“Dada”, Fumiko lisps, chubby fists wound around Kuroo’s tie. ‘I wanna hear another princess story!” 

“No Fumiko! Papa promised to tell us how he met mama!” Aiko prods Kuroo’s side with the wooden doll Yaku sent from Russia that you know he abhors. ‘Keep your promises, papa!” 

“Alright, settle down you monsters. I’ll tell you two stories if you promise to go to sleep right after that.” The girls cheer. “Now. Let’s see. A long, long time ago, your papa met your mama when she decided to beat him up because she thought he was trying to steal her food.” 

“You were trying to steal my food”, you interrupt, leaning against the doorway amused. “You didn’t stop til I stabbed you with my fork.”

He glances up, surprised when you sit beside him on the bed. Then he grins. 

“You left it on the table, dearest. What was a guy supposed to think?” 

“Mama, please let dada tell the story”, Aiko interjects with a huff. 

“Hurry up, dada! I want the princess story next!” Fumiko pulls at her silly dada’s shirt, pouting. 

You both laugh. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips when his eyes meet yours. 

Travelling all around Japan is still part of his job as a marketing director of the Japanese Volleyball Association. But now Kuroo pares it down to the bare minimum, makes sure he’s always back by the weekend at the very least to sweep the girls in his arms and shoo you off for a break of afternoon tea with your friends or shopping with your mom. 

“Will you be ok when I’m gone?”

You hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

He bends down to kiss Aiko on her forehead, pinch Fumiko’s cheek playfully. 

“Yes. Well. I’ll come home soon”, he says, quietly. You startle slightly as he brushes his thumb over your wrist, lets it drift over your pulse point. “Please wait for me.” 

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll see you soon then”, you reply. His smile widens, his eyes are hopeful, bright. 

On the weekends, he stops flitting off for work functions and events. Instead, now he joins you for lunches at the kaiten zushi near your house, indulging the girls by ordering yet another plate of sushi just so Aiko has another chance to win a toy from the gachapon and Fumiko has another chance at feeling grown up when she lifts the plate from the conveyor belt. He stops ducking out from dinners at the grandparents’ place - both his and yours. Your mom stops giving him dirty looks when he actually turns up more than three times in a row with sake in hand. 

Once every so often, he even throws little parties for your family of four, going so far as to buy a frilly pink apron that makes your daughters giggle when he whips it out for the first time. After a few mishaps (and a number of frantic calls to Fukunaga), he masters how to make takoyaki and okonomiyaki, and in the colder months, he makes steaming pots of nabe and shabu shabu. 

“Itadakimasu” you murmur, and the girls follow suit. “It tastes good”, you say. 

He ducks his head bashfully, pink dusting the column of his neck. 

“Thank you”, he replies. “That means a lot, coming from you.” 

You start to savour the bubbles of happiness in your chest when you see how your daughters’ eyes shine when they see their papa whip out the pink apron. You learn to laugh when you hear the pitter patter of little feet, their delighted squeals and shrieks when they tell you the latest exploits their silly papa is cooking up - sparklers under the stars one weekend, a nerf gun fight, the next.

The weight on your shoulders grows lighter and lighter until one day you hardly notice it at all. 

“What’s wrong?” you frown at the sight of your husband dashing out of your bedroom, hair a frazzled mess. 

He whips around at the sound of your voice. “Oh. Oh.” He approaches you, slowly, carefully. “You’re still here.”

Your frown deepens. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed. Tetsuro, is everything alright?” 

He nods. “It’s fine - I just... I just woke up and thought you were gone.” 

You take a closer look. It’s dark, but the shadows of the night fail to hide the purple smudges beneath his eyes, the fine lines carved into his brow. His shoulders are bowed, his lips downturned and he looks broken, battered.    

Your heart hurts for him. 

“I’m here”, you say, beckoning him towards you. Physical affection has been scarce between you two for so, so long but he looks so distraught it’s only natural to pull him close, let him rest his head on your lap. “I’m here, Tetsuro. I’m not about to run off into the night – you know I don’t like the cold.”

He doesn’t laugh at your feeble joke. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 

“Yes”, you say firmly, combing your fingers through his hair, rubbing circles along his back. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do.”

You can feel him sag in relief. 

“You don’t have to work yourself to the bone for me. That’s – that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired, you need to take a break.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I can bear it as long as you don’t leave me.” 

“Tetsuro –“ 

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he begs, head bowed. “I know I’ve been a shit husband to you for so long. It’s no excuse, but I thought - ” he swallows heavily, waits until his voice stops wavering. “I thought we were ok, ‘cos we didn’t fight, not like my parents did before – before my mother left.”

“I was too tired to fight with you”, you say simply. 

He nods once, jerkily. “I know – I know that now. When you disappeared that day, I didn’t know what to do. I went to your mom’s place and she reamed me out, screamed at me in front of the neighbours. I took the kids back, and it made me realise how fucking hard it was for you to do it all alone.” He inhales, closing his eyes as if the memory aches. “I know it’s late but I’ve changed, I swear. The girls need you. I need you. I’ll do anything as long as you stay.”

His fingers are freezing, but you do not pull away. Not when the desperation reflected in his irises makes your heart lurch in pain.

“It was hard”, you confess, and he shudders, struck in the chest by your honesty. “It was so hard, Tetsuro. You hurt me so damn much that I think I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was really functioning for a while. For a long while.”  

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, and you nod shakily. 

“I know”, you reply, reaching out a hand to cup his face, a bittersweet twist to your lips as he melts into your touch. “That’s a chapter of my life, of our marriage that can’t be re-written. We can’t rewind that. But the past few months have been so different. I – you’ve shown me you’ve changed. And I think –“

You fall silent. 

He prompts you. “Dearest?” 

You recall the glimmer of light in your daughters’ eyes every morning when he takes their hands to walks them to school. You hear the echoes of their laughter, the lilt in their sweet voices every night when they welcome him home. You think of the tea parties he throws, the blanket forts he builds, the frilly pink apron he wears without shame and the bedtime stories he weaves every night.

“I think”, you say, with a smile that reminds him of the rising sun. “I think we can make this work again.” 

He stares at you until the weight of your words dawns upon him, and he surges forward to fold you into his arms. 

“Thank you”, he whispers into the shell of your ear. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.” 

“Don’t thank me, you silly man”, you nuzzle into his neck sleepily, draping your arms around his waist. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He laughs wetly, cradling you close as you fall asleep against his chest, soothed by his heartbeat and the tenderness in his gaze.  

Fumiko wakes you up unceremoniously before the sun even rises by climbing into your lap, and you open your eyes to Aiko pouting, hands on hips, demanding to know what’s for breakfast, and dada, dada, make a ham sandwich, pretty please with a cherry on the top. 

“You guys are little monsters”, Kuroo teases with dancing eyes. “Can’t even give your papa a break to snuggle up to your mama.” 

The girls shriek in dismay. “Don’t be mean”, you admonish him gently. 

He mock sniffs. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

Aiko and Fumiko crowd the sofa, clamouring to give their papa a kiss, but he stalls them with an imperious wave of his hand. 

“This morning, only a kiss from your mama can chase my crankiness away”. His tone is teasing, but his shoulders remain tense.  

“Nonsense. You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine”, you scold, swatting his arm lightly as the girls giggle. 

“Yours do!” he protests, and you roll your eyes as you press your lips to the corner of his lips, laughing when he puffs out his chest and declares his day can now start, that everything’ll be as right as rain.

Some days are full of sunshine, whilst others are full of rain. That’s life – but it’s bearable, enjoyable even, now that you and Kuroo face each day together, thanking the sun when it shines, and splashing through puddles on rainy days. 

Things recalibrate. 

The mornings are his domain now – he’s a master at concocting the most random breakfast items to satisfy your finnicky daughters. Aiko sniffs when she informs you that she’d prefer her papa to braid her hair, thank you very much, and when you shoot a look of death at Kuroo, he can’t even keep his face straight, his trademark hyena laugh erupting from his chest. 

You cook dinner in the evenings, appreciating the times when he can join you at the table, not counting the nights he can’t against him because you know he’s trying his best. The girls clamour for his stories every night, laughing when he teasingly scolds them for yanking on his tie, demanding goodnight kisses from both him and you. 

Now you force Kuroo to take some time to himself, shoo him off for lunches with Kenma, get-togethers with his Nekoma schoolmates. “I know you can manage it”, you tell him archly, “but you need breaks  so you don’t burn out, or worse – you’ll lose your hair and we don’t want that”. When he opens and closes his mouth without a smart retort, you smirk. You get your way. 

Both of you organise parties and playdates, inviting your shared friends – Kenma, of course, is a frequent guest, Bokuto, who brings along Akaashi and his sweet tempered little son (who Aiko always manages to pick a fight with, much to Kuroo’s amusement). You host Kai, who always brings offerings of flowers from his garden, Yaku, when he’s in town with his daughter, son and alarmingly fat cat. The adults congregate in the kitchen with food and alcohol, cracking good natured jokes at Kuroo and his frilly pink apron, watching the children cause a ruckus in the living room. 

But you cherish the quiet moments you share with Kuroo at night when the children are asleep in bed. The chats you have whilst soaking in a hot bath about your day at work, the snippets of stories he shares about his boss, his crazy colleagues, the warmth of his arm around you as you stay up to clear emails late into the night, the heated kisses he presses to the nape of your neck to distract you when he thinks you’re working too hard. 

It’s a good life. You’re happy, and so is he. 

A year slips by. 

The seasons come full circle. You return to the ryokan, finding peace in soaking yourself in steaming pools, watching the bamboo sway, the sun rise over Mt. Fuji. But this time, you’re not alone. You persuade Kuroo that he, too, needs a break - deserves one, truly. So you leave the girls with your mother and take the bullet train down to Hakone. 

He shoots you a smirk as you both emerge from the private bath he’d insisted on booking. You swat at him, pulling your yukata higher up your neck, scowling as he winds an arm around your waist to press you into his side. 

“You couldn’t wait til we got back to our room?” you hiss at him. 

He chuckles lowly in response. “Didn’t hear you complaining”, he retorts. 

“We were in an onsen, Tetsuro!” 

“A private one”, he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing aloud when you try and fail to slap your hand over his mouth. “What d’you think I was going to do with my lovely wife? I’m not a monk, sweetheart”

You try your best to shush him, but his cackling manages to capture the attention of everyone in the lift.  

“What a happy couple”, an old lady remarks, within your earshot. “They must be newly married” 

You think she must be a little senile. Or a little blind. 

Neither of you are in your first flush of youth anymore - there are streaks of grey in Tetsuro’s mop of hair, extra weight in your hips and lines in your faces. No one could conceivably mistake you for a pair of newlyweds.

“Nah”, Kuroo drawls easily into your ear. “Just your regular old, married couple.”

You don’t speak until you’re safely in your room. 

“A regular, old, happily married couple”, you say, as he hands you a cup of tea. “That obaa-san got that part right at least.”

Kuroo chokes on the lump of emotion in his throat as you serenely sip your tea. 

The tea tastes bitter (as it always does), but the kisses that follow are so very, very sweet. 

[finelinevogue]

Can we get some more brother!harry?

I really enjoyed your piece where he caught her smoking ❤️

of course you can!! (rip if your name is natalia) hope this is what you wanted;

Natalia.

Beautiful name to juxtapose a horrible excuse of a human being.

Harry was never that great when it came to choosing his girlfriends, but this one was by far the worst. Bekka had been bad, because she had been cheating on Harry with her best friends dad. India was just so toxic, to the point where she’d ask Harry why he wasn’t mad with her over the most trivial things as if she wanted him to be mad. Daya was ok, but she wanted different things to what Harry wanted and so they ended up in a massive argument and ending things quicker than they started. Natalia though, wow. She was something else and that wasn’t a compliment.

You don’t know whether it was just because she targeted you especially, but she was just a downright cruel person. You could easily tell her intentions with your brother were not good. She was a plain ol’ gold digger, evident from the credit card that Harry leant her and she spent so much on it the bank had to call Harry to ask him to authorise that he was aware of the amount of money being spent. She bought a car with his card. A fucking car. Harry was too blinded by her beauty and her experience that he was oblivious to her witchy behaviour towards you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to tell him either, it was more that he didn’t care enough.

“No Harry. No.” You argued with him, standing in the middle of the kitchen as he was busy washing the rest of the dishes in the sink. It was just the two of you home at the moment, because Gemma and Anne were spending the weekend at an exclusive spa in Cheshire, so you didn’t understand how there were so many dishes.

“Y/N, it’s not an option. You’re not staying at home by yourself.” Harry spoke sternly back to you, letting out his frustration by vigorously scrubbing the dishes.

“I’m literally 17 - 18 in like 3 weeks. I’m more than capable of staying home.” You stomped your foot to the ground like a child.

“And I don’t care. You’re coming to lunch whether you want to or not.” Harry finished the last plate and dries his hands on the towel next to the sink, before throwing it over to you.

“But she’ll be there.”

“She’s my girlfriend, so you’ll nice to her.”

“If she’s nice to me, then yeah.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the sink to start drying the dishes that Harry just cleaned.

“ Y/N, I swear to God.” Harry groaned in frustration, tugging a stressful hand through his hair. “Can you at least pretend to be happy for me for once?”

“Gee Harry, i’m just so happy to be going out to lunch with you and your girlfriend!” You put on the biggest grin as your sarcasm practically dripped from your tongue.

“Stop being a spoilt little shit and finish those dishes. We’re leaving in 20.” Harry spoke harshly, before leaving the room with a heavy strop to his step. It left you to blink back the tears that you couldn’t help that Natalia was ruining your whole relationship with your brother.

You and Harry used to be so tight nit, now it would be a miracle if he spent a day with you per month. Natalia had come along 5 months ago and she had completely turned Harry’s life around for the worst, only Harry was too ignorant to see that. Anne had come home multiple times to find you crying because Harry had cancelled on you, again, or Natalia had said something that had really hurt. Normally you were okay with taking hate, but Natalia made it somehow worse than that. Even if Anne or Gemma tried to talk Harry about the damage all this was causing you it would always be the same response;

“She just wants attention.”

The restaurant was very pretty.

It was one that you and Harry used to go to all the time, when there was no girlfriend around. It sold the best pastries and life-changing eggs on toast. The food was always delicious and the staff were so completely lovely. You were glad to be coming here, making you feel more comfortable than you would if you went to a expensive fancy restaurant instead. This little restaurant, named ‘Lemon Puffs’ after their infamous lemon, cream and pastry puffs, made you feel safe and happy.

“Remember to just be nice.” Harry spoke as you both approached the table that Natalia was already sat at. She was too busy on her phone to realise you were even here.

“If she plays nice then yeah.” You bit back.

“Y/N just stop being petty, y’pissing me off now.” Harry argued. “Whine like a bitch later. I don’t need it today.”

You stopped talking after that, not having anything else to say to him. He’d made it very clear that you were only here because he didn’t trust you at home by yourself, but by the same token wanted you quiet because he didn’t trust you enough to speak nicely. Harry hugged and kissed Natalia like he hadn’t just seen her last night and then sat down opposite to her, leaving you to sit next to Harry because you sure as hell weren’t sitting next to her. Natalia didn’t even make the effort to hug you or shake hands, in fact you barely got a simple hello.

“You alright, baby?” Natalia asked, twirling her hand into Harry’s from across the table. Disgusting.

“Yeah i’m good. This one’s a pain in my arse, as always.” Even with his joking tone, you knew he was being somewhat serious and that really messed with you.

“Typical.” Natalia rolled her eyes and tutted her tongue, not hesitating to use the opportunity to be mean to you. Harry thought she was merely playing along with his words, but you new otherwise.

“You know what you want yet?” Harry asked as he pulled his own attention towards the menu. You didn’t need to look at the menu, as being here so many times has allowed you to discover the perfect order.

“I think i’m just going to get the salad, but without the chicken, cheese or cucumber.” She answered, sipping on the water she must’ve already ordered whilst waiting for you both.

“So just lettuce?” You asked, not meaning for it to be a condescending question and yet she took it that way anyways.

“Is there something wrong with that, Y/N?” She asked, being really harsh in the way she spoke your name - as if the syllables actually caused her pain to speak.

“N-no I was just—”

“Didn’t think so.” She snapped and turned away from you to look back towards Harry, with her shit-eating grin that didn’t fool you. Harry kicked you leg under the table too, not appreciating the way you were speaking to Natalia. He didn’t even think about the way his girlfriend was speaking to you though. As usual.

“I’ll probably get the salad too.” Harry nodded his head and you shook your head as he spoke. Harry would never normally get a salad. Like, that’s so Kardashian of him. Harry, whenever he came here with you, always ordered a cheese and pickle panini, with extra crunchy pickles, a portion of chips and some halloumi fries too. Oh and then a cake for pudding. He wouldn’t have gone for a boring salad. Fucking Natalia was ruining him and you hated to have a front row seat of it.

“Not the usual then?” You tried to joke with him, but he was clearly still pissed off with you for being… you.

“Why, are you?” He asked quizzically.

“Obviously.” You smiled, which made Harry smile for a split second before Natalia pulled him away from you. Your smile disappeared and a frown settled in, knowing it would stay there for a long time.

“Babe, I am here too you know?” Natalia joked, bur you could see the anger and jealousy behind her eyes. If looked could kill you’d be ten feet under, twenty times over by now.

“Sorry, yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and paid closer attention to her.

Lunch went by slowly.

Natalia scoffed when she heard your order; poached eggs on toast with three pieces of crispy bacon on the side, a portion of chips and a mint iced tea. Oh and a cake for pudding, but you’d come to that later. Natalia ate her lettuce as Harry eat his salad as you ate your eggs on toast with bacon and chips. You loved the food, hated the company and couldn’t make up your mind whether you loved or hated being here. Natalia and Harry talked throughout lunch, leaving you out of all their conversations. The only time Harry spoke to you was when he asked whether your food was okay, eyeing it up as if he wanted to make love to it and send his salad to the nearest dumpster.

“Was everything alright for you?” Paul, the owner of the business and dude in charge of the eggs asked you when all your plates were empty as Harry’s growling stomach.

“Lovely, thank you.” Harry responded gratefully.

“Perfect.” You smiled as you handed your dirty plate to Paul.

“It was a bit plain.” Natalia moved her plate away from her in disgust and Paul put on his best customer smile, apologising for that before leaving to go and ring up the bill.

“Okay i’m just going to go for a quick wee before I pay.” Harry announced, getting up from the table to go to the loo.

“Okay babe. Don’t be too long.” She called out and then it was left just you and her.

“Well this was nice.” You tried to be nice, as Harry told you to, and start a meant conversation with your arch enemy. Kill ‘em with kindness - that was Harry’s slogan wasn’t it?

“If you hadn’t have been here then yeah.” She turned her nose up at you.

“Look,” you began, wanting her to understand something, “whatever i’ve done to upset you and make you hate me, i’m sorry. Just, I don’t want you to dislike me and I know that Harry really likes you so I want us to be able to get along.”

“Listen, Y/N,” there it was again - your name spoken with dripping venom, “I don’t want to get along with you. You make me sick. You are such a baby to Harry and you’re needy, which means I don’t get to spend time with my boyfriend—”

“Don’t get to spend time with him?” You had to laugh at that. Apart from today, you’d seen Harry maybe a total of 2 hours this whole week and it was Saturday. “You’re practically attached at the hip.”

“Not enough. Harry needs to keep away from you, you only bring him trouble.”

“I’m his fucking sister.” You shouted quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace for the rest of the customers.

“Not an excuse. Look Y/N, I understand that you are quite lonely and don’t have many friends? Maybe you should consider that’s for a very good reason?” She rhetorically asked you and that made you sit back a bit. She was pulling apart your insecurities now and exposing them to find the most painful parts, so she could watch you suffer with only the curse of her words.

“It’s not like that.” You tried to convince yourself more than her, tears in your eyes over something so hurtful to you.

“No? ‘Cause I think that you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.” She stood up dusted herself off as he noticed Harry walk back over to the table, smiling as if she hadn’t just shot his sister in the heart.

Her words stung more than a scorpions tale, and yes unfortunately you knew what that felt like. Natalia was right. You were alone, friendless and just trouble. There was a reason that you were all of this and Natalia had hit the nail right on the head with the reason why. You thought of your friends, his they always disappeared and left you and now you sit in the canteen alone or hang out only with yourself on the weekends. You think to Gemma and Anne going away for the weekend, not inviting you because it was age restrictive but you still couldn’t help but think there was a more pressing reason than that. Then you think of Harry and how he was fed up of you. He couldn’t be more resentful of you if he tried. You wanted to be a good friend, a good daughter and most importantly a good sister, but it was so blindingly obvious that you weren’t. You were never going to be.

You stood up from the table too, quickly wiping away a tear from your face before anyone could notice but you didn’t care to see if anyone was actually watching. Harry kissed Natalia and then walked over to the cashier to pay the bill. You noticed Paul and Harry talking and so you walked out of the restaurant and towards the car, still tears in your eyes. You needed to be strong for yourself though, especially because nobody else was going to be.

You stood with you handle to the door of the car waited for Harry to come and unlock it. You heard high heels before the car was unlocked, unfortunately.

“Excuse me, but I ride front.” Natalia spat at you, removing your hand from the door and chivvying you to the back of the car instead.

“You’re coming with us?” You asked, your heart aching that little bit more. You didn’t want to spend another minute in her presence and yet she would now probably spend the rest of the week until your mum and sister came back.

“Ye—”

“No she’s not.” Harry walked out of the restaurant and over to the car, standing in between the both of you but a little more towards you.

“Babe? What do you mean?” Natalia asked, a little bit shocked at his tone with her.

“Firstly dont babe me. Secondly, get your hand off my car. Thirdly, don’t ever come near me or my sister ever again.” Harry ordered angrily. You’d never seen him this angry before. You stood behind him, afraid of what was about to go down.

“What has she said to you, because—”

“She’s my sister and she’s got a name. Y/N didn’t tell me anything. Lemon Puffs, however, has eyes and ears everywhere and it’s amazing the stories you hear when you’re stood at the cashier or next to someone at the urinals.” Harry accused Natalia and she went hot red in the face, embarrassed that this conversation was actually happening.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Maybe this will jog your memory. ‘I think you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.’” Harry raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest confrontationally. Guarding and protecting you. You felt safe.

“Wha— You think I would say that?” Natalia asked, pretending to be offended by the accusation.

“I don’t know, let’s ask Y/N shall we? Y/N, did Natalia say that to you?” Harry asked, turning to look at you with hope in his eyes, but also sorriness for everything that’s happened. You could see it all behind his eyes and you wanted to squeeze him tight to accept his apology, because you loved him and you needed him.

“Y-yes.” You answered, looking down so you didn’t have to make eye contact with Natalia.

“Harry you can’t possibly believe her.” Natalia laughed, but there was heavy insecurity in her tone.

“I trust her more than anyone. More than you. I trust Y/N with my life.” Harry back answered, taking no more bullshit from his ex-girlfriend. “We’re done Natalia. Okay? I don’t want to see you ever again. What you’ve said and done to my sister is unforgivable and I don’t want someone like you in my life.”

“You were a dick too.” You added quietly behind him and he just turned round to smile and wink at you.

“So what? That’s it?” Natalia asked, dumbfounded.

“Bye Natalia.” Harry walked around to the drivers seat and you to the passenger side. He stopped before opening the door though, wanting to say one last thing. “The bill was split in half by the way. Paul’s just inside waiting for you to pay.”

With that, you both got in the car, laughing at Natalia’s reaction and just everything. Apologises were made and promises of no relationships until you two had built back up yours were sworn. It would take time, but Harry was willing to prove that he was a good brother and you were always going to be someone he wanted around.

[apiratewhopines]

This one is a gift for @teamhook because she is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.

Thanks to @jrob64 for giving me advice on artwork and to ultraluckycatnd for reading over this chapter

Midnight

Chapter 1 — The Prince

Summary: In which our heroine meets cute

Chapter 1 of 7 on AO3

“But don’t forget folks,

That’s what you get folks

For makin’ whoopee”

-Makin’ Whoopee, Eddie Cantor

Emma Swan had been in some tight spots, but she’d never been in a run out of gas on a deserted highway with a dying cell phone battery and a stomach as empty as her bank account kind of situation before. In truth, she blamed this unfortunate situation on the same person she blamed all the misfortunes of her adulthood. Neal Cassidy.

There was a time a few short months ago she would have done anything for the man responsible for her current circumstances. Neal had been too good to be true. A real Prince Charming, down to the supposed trust fund and a smile that made her believe in happy endings.

She’d been a sucker. She heard one was born every minute, she just never thought her time would come. After all, one of the few things she learned in the foster system was how to spot bullshit from a mile away. But he looked at her with his soulful eyes and whispered promises in his smoky voice and she fell for it. More than once, actually, and all she had to show for the wasted years was a voicemail box full of collection calls and a wolf at the door.

Because Neal Cassidy didn’t just leave her. He stole her identity, maxed out her credit cards, and took out half a dozen loans in her name. Then he proceeded to use the money to wine and dine a wide assortment of women, the sheer number of which would make Casanova blush. All the while professing his undying love and spending his days eating all her food and watching television from his favorite seat on the couch.

Seriously, you could still see the faint outline of his backside on the cushion.

As countless victims of his schemes started showing up at her door looking for the man who made them feel alive while killing them one dollar at a time, she listened to tears and rants and misery with ill-disguised impatience. How had she become the counselor to the trail of broken girls he left in his wake? When was it going to be her turn to moan and groan and swear she’d never love again?

Well, she did get around to the swearing to never love again part. Some mistakes don’t bear repeating.

The final straw happened two months ago. Neal had disappeared after their final fight. His righteous indignation at being called on his crap and inability to find a plausible excuse for the stack of overdue bills and statements she found stuffed in the back of his gym bag made it difficult to share the same space. She wanted him gone even as her hands itched to touch him one more time.

Unfortunately, leaving her drowning in debt with the knowledge he cheated on her for the majority of their relationship wasn’t enough for him. He decided to do some collateral damage on his way out of town.

He did the unforgivable. He went after Granny.

His target was meant to wound her. While he lied and schemed the entire time they were together, she had been an open book for the first time in her life so he knew Granny was the sole connection she formed as a foster. Her brief stay with the woman before she aged out of the system was a time of peace and healing. Granny was responsible for helping her get on her feet and the two maintained a friendship years later.

Emma received the frantic call from Ruby explaining her grandmother had been tricked into giving Neal a blank check so he could do her grocery run. Hours later, she received a notification from her bank saying her checking account had been wiped out. At that point, the tenuous control Emma had on her emotions disappeared. She sat on the kitchen floor of the apartment she was about to lose, staring at empty walls that still echoed with his laughter in her weaker moments, and she broke into a million pieces.

So it was no wonder she vowed to have her vengeance. To do anything and everything to make him pay. Luckily, since he skipped out on a court date, catching him would also get her paid.

Tracking him had taken more time than she liked to admit. She was good; even penniless and running out of options, she recognized her worth and knew she possessed hard to find skill sets. But she had a sinking sensation that he might be better.

Now she was stranded on the side of the road with nothing except her most uncomfortable shoes to keep her company. But damn did they make her legs look good and with everything else in her life collapsing around her, somehow that seemed important.

Squaring her shoulders, she climbed out of the car and pondered her next course of action. She was unfamiliar with the state road connecting the two small towns on the Maine coast, so she had no idea what the odds were that a good samaritan would happen along. She had just enough juice in her battery and lettuce in her account to call for an Uber to take her to the seedy nightclub where Neal was last seen. Or she could walk the rest of the way in her mile-high heels knowing she never looked better, even though she would probably not be able to move the next day without a significant amount of pain.

What she would do if she found him or where she would stay if she didn’t weren’t questions she was ready to entertain.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and with a huff of frustration opened her app. Pleading with whatever powers that be to let her last long enough to see herself through to the other side of this, she leaned against her beaten down yellow Bug and waited for the black sedan to show.

Of course, her phone died immediately after she booked her ride, finally giving up the ghost even though she didn’t get a chance to see the name or license plate of her hired car. Getting more anxious by the minute, she paced along the shoulder, careful to keep on the pavement since the ground was soft from recent rain. After what seemed like forever, but had probably not been more than half an hour, the headlights of a lone car crested a nearby hill.

“About time,” she muttered. To make sure the driver knew she was not pleased with the delay or the prodding pace he maintained despite the fact the sky seemed ready to open at any moment, she moved out into the middle of the lane and placed her hand on her hips. Pride kept her from squinting even though the bright high beams made her eyes water as the car approached.

Slowing from a crawl to a stop, the driver put the car in park and jumped out. It was dark and the man was dressed all in black, but as he moved around to the front of the car, she got the impression of blue eyes and a stubble-covered jaw that could probably cut glass. Great, just what she needed. A sexy Uber driver.

“Alright there, love?”

With a British accent. He probably smelled like bacon, too.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all night.”

Moving closer, he smiled with a hint of confusion. “Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have been along sooner. Tell me, do you always accost strange men in the dead of night on empty roads?”

“Only when I’m paying them to take me where I need to go,” she grumbled, walking toward the back door on the passenger side. She pulled it open as he protested, and glared at him over the top of the car.

“Love, I think there may be a bit of a mix-up—��

“It’s fine. I won’t give you a bad rating for being late as long as you don’t talk to me. I’ve been driving for hours to get here and I need to think.”

She heard him sigh and saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled at her again. “Very well. Would you like me to get your bags?”

“You’d have to go to a pawn shop in Boston to accomplish that,” she joked, dropping into the leather seat and noticing for the first time the expensive luxury of her rented carriage. She supposed if she was going to spend her last dime on a ride, she could have done far worse.

She resisted the urge to use the low ambient lighting of the dashboard to get a better look at her temporary chauffeur. The glimpse she got outside was more than enough to know she needed to keep her distance. It didn’t stop her from feeling the weight of his stare as he peeked over his shoulder while clicking on his seatbelt. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw his tongue flicker slowly over his bottom lip before he turned his attention back to the road.

“Nice dress. Where are we heading this fine night, Miss…?”

“You’re really terrible at this. Is it your first time being a driver for hire?”

“What gave it away, love? It’s quite an unexpected development that came about just this evening. But you know what they say, you never forget your first.”

It was everything she could do not to laugh. She had a feeling it would only encourage him and if she was heading into battle, she needed her wits about her. “The Snakehole Lounge.”

“At the risk of sounding cliche, why would a nice girl like you want to go to a place like that?”

“I’m not a nice girl,” Emma informed him without a hint of irony or bravado. “And your rating is going down with each syllable out of your mouth.”

“Tough lass,” he murmured. “But do yourself a favor. Stay away from the Snake Juice.”

Little did he know that even if she wanted to have a drink, and boy did she ever, she used the last of her meager funds to get to this backwater place and she wasn’t sure where her next meal would come from. “I’ll do my best.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. She spent the time looking out the window at the trees flying by and trying to ignore how every time she looked away, her eyes caught his in the rearview mirror.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing they were the only people for miles around or he would have gotten them both killed.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of a shabby nightclub. Even the multitude of neon lights flashing “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and “Half-Price Beer Buckets” did little to enliven the dingy exterior. They didn’t bother with a bouncer, probably because no one actually wanted to get in.

Before she could say anything, her driver was out of the car and rounding his way to her door. She didn’t have a chance to object as he opened it and looked at her with avid curiosity. She had to admit she was impressed he didn’t give into it and ask any questions.

“Since we’re out of the car, am I allowed to speak again?”

Perhaps she had been too hasty in her internal praise. “Thanks for the ride. I hope your next passengers are more chatty since that’s what you’re into...overall, a solid three stars.”

“Three stars? I’d be surprised, but I had a feeling you were warming up to me between the baleful stares and eye-rolling.”

Gifting him with another of the said eye rolls, she adjusted the hem of her skirt to show a little more leg and walked away. She knew if she stayed a second longer she would give in to the almost magnetic pull of him and say something foolish like, ‘What’s your name?’

—

The inside of the establishment was every bit as horrible as the outside. The low lighting obscured the grime and wear that would be glaringly obvious otherwise. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed like the kind of place Neal would gravitate to since he was a dirty little rat.

Music heavy with bass pumped out a rhythm entirely too fast for the energy of the place. The few patrons who persevered this far into the night looked anemic as tired dancers did their best to act like they wanted to be there. Pulling her ID from the scrap of a bra she wore under her dress, she flashed it at the lone employee who manned the entrance and the bar. He gave it a cursory glance and turned back to his phone.

Snapping her fingers under his nose to get his attention, she pulled out a grainy photo of her quarry from the same location and asked, “Have you seen this man recently?”

“I’ve never seen anyone. Ever.” The man grumbled, not interested in the slightest. She wondered if he would stop her if she walked behind the counter and helped herself to a drink. She was leaning toward no and tempted to try.

“Tell you what buddy, take a good look at this picture. Then look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t seen him and we’ll end the night without any trouble.”

Something in her tone must have penetrated his disillusionment and he gazed at her with more interest than he’d probably shown anything in years. She waited as he glanced at the photo for a few seconds. “No, sorry. If he’s been here, it wasn’t during any of my shifts. Is he your husband or something?”

“He’s something alright,” she muttered. Defeated, she turned around without another word. She used the last of her resources to fund a wild goose chase, but at least it got her into town. Only thing left to do was find a park or quiet bench somewhere safe to sleep for a few hours and then she would tackle whatever came next. It wouldn’t be the first time she roughed it, although she had never attempted it in formal wear before.

Pushing the door open with unnecessary force, she immediately froze. Her three star driver was waiting at the curb as if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t given him the brush off.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, especially since I’m pretty sure our business is done,” she replied, walking past him and wishing the man could be a tiny bit less handsome. Now that the streetlights of the small town were there to illuminate their interactions, she couldn’t deny he was ridiculously attractive and exactly her type, complete with a black leather jacket and messy hair begging to be pulled. And, heaven help her, he was determined to extend their acquaintance apparently.

“It’s just good sense, love. I figured you’d be in need of transportation again, so why waste the gas to leave when I’d have to turn around after you called for your next ride.” He matched his stride to hers as she did her best to increase her pace.

Sighing, she stopped at the corner and looked at him. “Listen, I could tell you my phone is dead and I need to make a few more stops, that I’d pay you when you drop me off at my place at the end of the night, but it would be a lie. I’m chasing down a bounty. I need the money to pay for a ride and I need a ride to make the money. A smart man like you can see the problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned away again but felt him leap into action behind her. He moved to cut off her escape and said, “Double or nothing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Double or nothing, sweetheart. I take you to wherever you need to go tonight and when you collect your fee, you pay me double whatever the normal fare is for jaunts like these.”

“What if I don’t find him?”

“That’s where the nothing comes in, lass. A smart woman like you can see the benefit of such an arrangement.”

She studied him, hoping to find some ulterior motive in his seemingly selfless offer, but all she saw in his expression was an earnestness bordering on being painful and a thirst for adventure barely contained. Perhaps this was how he got his kicks in an isolated town. He propositioned strangers and gambled on fate. “No strings? No funny business?”

“This whole business is funny, but I’ll behave myself if you will. We’ll have much less satisfaction that way, but I’ll do my best to rally my spirits and overcome my disappointment.”

With a rueful shake of her head, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself. “I guess we’re doing this. I’m Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones, driver extraordinaire and captain of this fine vessel, at your service. Where’s our next stop?”

“I need to go to every seedy bar and filthy dive in the area so you tell me, Captain.”

—

She wasn’t sure what it said about her newfound companion that he was able to rattle off several places in a matter of seconds, but as the night stretched on and the miles racked up, she found she rather liked her tour guide. Which was probably a good thing since at this rate, she would be splitting the bounty fifty-fifty with him. Who knew the twin cities of Storybrooke and Misthaven had so many sleazy places to hang out?

“I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of the line, Swan. Are you sure he’s in the area, because every traveler worth his salt makes a point to stop by Moe’s Tavern while visiting our fair city.”

“I can see why. The thrift-store ambience is delightful and the watered down drinks are to die for,” she murmured as she rested against the side of his car. She was tired and weak from hunger and as much as she wanted to curl up in the back seat and sleep, she was scared she’d get used to the comfort he was offering and do something she might regret later.

She was trying to figure out how to cut and run without seeming ungrateful when her stomach growled loudly.

In a playful tone belaying the concern in his eyes, he asked, “Was that your stomach? Bloody hell, am I in danger? Are you going to try to eat me to satisfy the beast within?”

Feeling a blush color her face, she avoided his gaze as she said, “Sorry, I...um, I skipped dinner.” And breakfast and lunch for that matter.

Taking up a position next to her, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Tell the truth, when was the last time you ate something, lass?”

“Hmm, what day is it again?”

“As I suspected. Come on, I know just the spot.” Pushing off from the car, he gently moved her and opened the door to the backseat.

She wanted to fight, to tell him she could take care of herself. She would have too, if she had any energy at all. Meeting his eyes for the first time, she joked, “You lost a gamble, Captain. That doesn’t mean you have to feed it.”

“I consider it an act of self-preservation. I figured you for a man-eater the first moment I laid eyes on you, but I’m afraid you might prove me right in unexpected ways if we don’t get some food in you soon.”

“As long as eyes are all you plan on laying on me, I accept your gracious offer,” she replied with a narrowed stare. Before Neal, she trusted her instincts. She would have insisted they were infallible, but he had shaken her confidence. She couldn’t risk being wrong about Killian Jones of the electric eyes and perpetual helpfulness.

“No strings. No funny business, Swan. Those are the rules. Get in, your chariot and dinner awaits.”

He stood a few feet from her, urging her into the car and she wasn’t sure what drove her to say it, but before she could change her mind, the words were out. “I’d rather ride in the front this time if that’s okay with you.”

His smile could have melted metal, tempted angels to fall, and inspired devils to repent. It was probably lack of rest and food causing her stomach to do flip flops. Or at least that was what she was going to tell herself.

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have…” He closed the back door with a firm finality that echoed through the night and somehow felt momentous in the thick air of summer. When he opened the passenger door, the light seemed warmer and it bathed him in softness and shadows. He waited patiently as if he knew something had shifted between them and he didn’t want any sudden movements to break the odd spell.

Then her stomach growled again, angry at the promise of food being delayed while she gawked at the man who was determined to rescue her in every imaginable way.

“And dinner, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, taking care not to make contact with his body as she slid into the seat. She was glad the door was already closed when she left out a huff of air. Good thing she had sworn off love or she may be in some danger.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[thechekhov]

Mind if I ask what the counseling app you mentioned in your comic was and how much it costs?

Sure, I don’t mind explaining. The app was Talkspace - it advertises itself as an online ‘counseling’ app but it’s realistically just a business like Uber that hires counselors for lower pay to capitalize on quick service. 

Good things that Talkspace sells itself on: 

Round the clock online access 

...so you can get in touch with a therapist anywhere, especially if your country doesn’t offer counseling or therapy, or if their services are difficult to obtain. 

Text only therapy options

You can choose to communicate through text entirely, and don’t have to do video calls if that’s something you’re not comfortable with. 

Bad things that Talkspace doesn’t advertise but are still true: 

It’s not an ideal therapy environment. 

The people they hire may be certified specialists, but they are working for low pay, working with ridiculous deadlines and under weird conditions. I don’t blame people for trying them - and I don’t blame the therapists who work there. But the reality is, it’s not good for either party. 

Therapists are expected to be ‘on call’ as it were. The clients are given an open text window and are given access to what is essentially a Reply To Me button which alerts the therapist. 

What this means is that you are leaving a message and ringing a bell on the counter going ‘ok, time for you to answer me, right NOW’. Not only is this not a great approach to counseling, it creates a weird disconnect and doesn’t really make it a conversation, not to mention putting pressure on the provider to answer at unreasonable hours. 

If you want to know more, read some reviews from the therapists who worked for Talkspace. 

Your information is not as confidential 

...as it would be with a standard provider in a normal therapy setting. You can find out more on this page about their Privacy Policy - and yes, most of it is just standard stuff like passwords, demographics, etc, but they make caveats by saying ‘anything you choose to share‘ which means all of your chat conversations with your provider. :/

You have very little choice over what counselor you actually get.

Yes, you get a superficial choice in the beginning, when they give you a little questionnaire about what you want to work on, but these are just 3 almost randomly selected people that they throw at you to give the illusion of choice. 

You can tell them you want to focus on ADHD management or PTSD or something else, but after that, the person you get is going to be a bit of a gumball from the machine. I wanted a therapist that is specifically LGBTQ friendly and an atheist - I couldn’t specify these requests anywhere, and you just have to hope that the provider will reveal such things on their profile willingly before you get into an awkward conversation with them about beliefs. 

Furthermore, the people you end up having to choose from can have any sort of training, from Licensed Professional Counselors to a Psych PhD to just someone with a Master’s Degree in a related field. 

The counselor you are working with may be tab-switching between 5 different people at the same time. 

They are just one human person, and realistically cannot develop any sort of relationship with you in this manner. Some of them will mistake your info for another patient’s info, some will forget what you told them - forget where you live, what your circumstances are, etc. Yes, they can refresh by reading the chat backlog, but that’s a terrible working environment - for them AND for you. 

How much does it cost? 

They have several plans based on what you want to be doing. The cheapest is texting-only for $260 per month. Then if you want video sessions included, the price goes up. Extra specific counseling also increases it. 

There ARE coupons and offers of free trials (such as the stuff I took advantage of to try it out for myself) but they require your Credit Card info when you confirm your service selection, so if you only want to try it out, make sure to cancel before the next month bills automatically. 

Even if you don’t have a coupon or a free trial on hand, when you sign up with an account they will connect you to what is essentially a receptionist who is tasked with Customer Retention, so you can explain you cannot pay the full price and more often than not, they’ll grab a Discount for you immediately. 

If it’s so bad, then why did you use it instead of using regular therapy, you idiot? 

Okay, I’ve gotten several questions like this already and I want to put this issue to rest:

I tried it because I had a coupon and decided I wanted to see it for myself. 

I tried it because I don’t HAVE access to regular therapy - I’m not in the US, the counseling services where I live are... not great, and I simply don’t have the resources to go find myself a foreign therapist! 

I tried it because I like to experience things personally and because the money I paid for one month was money I had in my pocket and COULD spend.

And that’s the important thing, I think. If you have expandable income or a coupon or a free month trial - TRY IT! Why the hell not? If you go into it knowing that it will likely be underwhelming but you are willing to see for yourself, there’s no harm in doing so. I also specifically WANTED to experience this for myself in order to be able to make a post like this and talk about my personal experiences. 

Just keep the above things in mind, don’t use the Reply By button and be reasonable with your expectations.

 Hope that helps! 

[allaboutthebooz]

Still Learning Pt. One

Summary: After having everything stolen from her, the reader meets Bucky and they form a relationship, that works for the both of them. She needs money and he needs the company. There are rules that need to be followed. What will happen when the rules are broken?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Theft, a couple of swear words. These will change with each chapter

A/N: Oh my goodness. It's been so long! I can't believe this is happening! I'm so ready for y'all you read this! I won't ramble too much! But if you like this and want to be notified when I post, you can send me an ask about being added to the tag list! Enjoy!

You were brought out of your sleep by warm lips pressing against the apple of your cheek. “I’ve gotta go into the office. I’ll call you when I leave.” You grunt in response and fall back asleep.

The next time that you’re being woken up, is by the shrill sound of your alarm. You blindly reach a hand over to your nightstand to shut your phone up. You drag your body out of bed and stumble to the bathroom to pee and take a shower.

Stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel with a cloud of steam billowing around you. Stepping into your closet you get dressed for the day. You don’t have much going on today, so you throw on your Sublime band tee, your jeans with the tears in the knees, and your well-worn Converse. You dry your hair enough to be able to pile it on top of your head in a messy bun, pulling a few strands out to frame your face. After quickly finishing your makeup, you load everything you need, into your work bag, grab your purse, and walk out of your apartment.

Figuring Matt took your car when he left this morning, you head down the sidewalk to the coffee shop a few blocks down. You spend the rest of your morning drinking coffee, answering emails, and editing photos. Being a photographer for one of the biggest fashion Magazines in New York, allows you to work anywhere, unless there are major shoots going on. Those don’t happen for another week.

You’re just about to pack up to meet your friends for lunch, when your phone starts to ring. An unknown number is displayed on the screen, but you answer it anyways thinking that it could be another company wanting to hire you for a shoot.

“Hello, this is Y/N.”

“Good afternoon. This is Anne calling from Capital One. I’m calling in regard to your credit card ending in 5379.”

“Credit card? I don’t have a credit card with your company.”

“Oh. Is this not Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“It is, but there must be some kind of mistake. Are you sure you have the right person?”

“Is your address 158 E 126th St. New York, New York 10035?”

Beginning to panic, you respond. “Yes.”

“Then I have the right person, but it is starting to sound like you didn’t authorize this account to be opened.”

“Excuse my language, but I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Okay, so what I can do is put a hold on the account. I am also going to suggest filing a police report, since this is going to become a fraud account.”

Grabbing a pen and piece of paper from your bag, “Can you give me the account number and balance that is due?”

“Certainly. Do you have an email that I can send the statement to? It will include everything that purchased with card.”

“Yes, perfect.” You rattle off your personal email, that way it wouldn’t get lost among your work emails.

“Okay Ms. Y/L/N, It should be in your inbox soon. As soon as you get the report filed with the police, give us a call and we will figure out what will happen next.”

“Sounds good. Thank you so much, Anne.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything else that I can help you with?”

“At this moment? No, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you get this straightened out as soon as you can, and I hope the rest of your day goes well.”

“Thanks, you too.” You hang up and quickly gather your things, rushing to meet your friends.

Throwing the door open to your apartment, you set your things on the counter, anxiously.

“Matt?” You call out. “Matt, are you here? We need to talk!”

You’re met with silence. You search the apartment, hoping to find him somewhere.

You find him nowhere.

While you were out with Lexie and Deanna, you had gotten another phone call from Chase Bank, telling you the same thing. A credit card was opened in your name, as well as a personal loan in the amount of $500,000. The credit card had been maxed out and both accounts were way overdue. They emailed you the required information to help you file a police report.

That wasn’t everything, though. You had given the waiter your card when it was time to pay your portion of the bill. Not even five minutes later, he came back to tell you that it declined and that he had ran it through a couple of times to make sure it wasn’t their system. It wasn’t. Your card had no funds attached to it.

When you checked your bank account, everything that you had been saving up and had earned, was gone. Every penny was gone. Thank goodness you always carried some cash with you. You paid with what you had in your wallet and quickly looked through your transactions. You had used it that morning to pay for your coffee, so the funds were taken after that.

You quickly told the girls that you would call them later, grabbed your things, and left the restaurant. Calling Matt on your way home. No answer. You called his office and his assistant told you that he had called out this morning, saying that he wasn’t feeling well. You knew something wasn’t right. He was the only other person who had access to your account.

You rushed home and now found yourself standing in the middle of your bedroom, staring in amazement and confusion at the clothes thrown all over the room, drawers pulled open from the shared dresser. Everything thrown to the ground in your closet.

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you try calling Matt again.

“I’m sorry. The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service. Please hang up and try again.”

Color finally draining from your face and your phone falling from your grasp, onto the carpet below.

The man you have spent the last six years with, has disappeared and taken everything you’ve had, with him. Leaving you with absolutely nothing.

TAGS:

Marvel- @shreddedparchment

Forevers- @jamielea81 @dnnwnchstr22 @also-fangirlinsweden

*If you would like to added to the tag list, please send me an ask. I am able to keep up with them better that way!

[bettsfic]

how i got an agent, or: my writing timeline

when i started writing, i had no idea how publishing worked and i had a lot of misconceptions about it. but i just signed my first literary agent so i thought i’d share what my experience has been getting to this point, in case it helps anyone else with their own publication goals. i’m also including financial details, like submission fees and income, because “i could never afford to pursue writing as a career” is something that kept me from taking the idea seriously.

for context, i write mostly literary fiction and i’m on the academic/scholarly writing path. this process looks a lot different for other genres. 

i didn’t write this in my pretty nonfiction narrative voice; it’s really just the bare-bones facts of how it went down, how long it took, how many words i wrote (both fanfiction and original fiction), and how much it all cost. 

background

2002 - 2005: read a fuckton of books, wrote some fiction, wanted to be a writer but knew it would never happen, journaled every moment of my life in intimate detail

2006: started working full-time (at a chinese restaurant) while still in high school, also started taking courses for college credit; no time to write, and forgot i had ever wanted to be a writer

2007: graduated high school, started college (psych major), still worked at the restaurant, moved out of my parents’ house into an apartment with my boyfriend; my dad got diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer

2008: continued college full-time, quit the restaurant and started part-time as a bank teller, broke up with bf and moved in with a friend at an apartment where the rent was obscenely high; had to pick up a second job altering bridal gowns

2009: continued college full-time, started dating someone else, moved in with him, had to support him, took a third job as an admin assistant 

2010: continued college full-time, still had 3 jobs; my dad’s cancer became terminal

2011: my dad passed away; i graduated college with a 3.9 and $31k of debt; quit 2 of 3 jobs; got promoted at the bank; my bf cheated on me and we broke up; moved back in with my mom

2012: a very dark time; also, bought a house (because where i’m from, it’s cheaper to buy than rent)

2013: discovered fandom

2014, age 24

this is the year i started writing and posting fanfic. prior to that i was a compulsive journaler but had no drive or desire to become a writer, despite how much i had written when i was a teenager. it seemed like a very childish dream. at this point i assumed writing was just a phase like all my other hobbies i’d picked up and set down. 

but fandom proved to be really healthy for me, and i made some good friends who encouraged my writing and made me want to be better at it. i was really not very good at writing. i don’t think i had any natural creative talent whatsoever, or even a particularly vivid imagination. the only thing i had going for me was the ability to put thoughts into words after a decade of obsessive journaling.

i started writing in spring, and by the end of the year my total word count was 311k. i was making a decent income at the bank, insofar as my bills were covered and i had health insurance. i still had a significant amount of credit card debt from college that i was trying to pay down, and which was eating up all my extra income. 

2015, age 25

i continued writing through 2015 and went to visit @aeriallon, whom i’d met in fandom and who told me i should consider applying to MFAs. i was miserable at the bank and knew i wanted to go back to school, but i didn’t think there was a chance in hell a grad program would accept me, since my writing wasn’t very good and i hadn’t so much as taken a single english class in undergrad. she told me to just look around and do a few google searches to see what i found. 

when i started searching, i assumed i would probably be more compelled toward an MEd or MSW programs and go the therapy route, which is what the plan had been in undergrad before my dad died and my life got derailed. i never wanted to be a banker, but i’d got a promotion into commercial finance that paid decently, so i took it and told myself i’d work for a year before going back to school. but then i kept getting promoted and one year became many.

i ended up being more drawn to creative writing MFA programs because they seemed to want people with weird backgrounds like mine. also the classes sounded fun and the programs were funded. i didn’t know how i would be able to afford my mortgage payment or sell my house on a fraction of the income i was making at the bank, but i figured i’d apply and see what happened.

it took 6 months to get a writing sample ready to apply to MFAs. it was the only ofic story i’d written as an adult, and in retrospect i had no idea what i was doing because at that point i didn’t read literary short fiction. but i got the sample as good as i could get it and completed my applications. i applied to 6 schools and got accepted into 1. 

in 2015 i wrote 250k. i can’t find my application spreadsheet from that year, but i probably spent between $300 and $400 on application fees. early in the year, i had finally managed to pay off my credit card debt and save a little bit of money.

2016, age 26

the school i got into was within driving distance of my house, so i didn’t bother moving. i tried to quit the bank but my boss convinced me to stay on 2 days a week working from home. i agreed to it, because my grad stipend wasn’t enough to cover my bills, and i was counting on what little savings i had accrued to get me through the program. i still had no drive or interest to publish. i mostly just wanted to go back to school so i could learn how to be better at this thing i really enjoyed doing.

in the MFA, as you might imagine, i had to read a lot of stuff and write a lot of stuff, and was encouraged to begin submitting some of the short stories i wrote for workshop. i was not particularly into the idea, considering it seemed like a lot of work for little reward, and also i didn’t think my stories were very good.

i also started teaching english comp. i hated it and decided that after the MFA, i never wanted to do it again. haha. hahahahahaha

in 2016 i wrote 343k. i didn’t apply/submit in 2016 so i didn’t pay any fees, but my grad stipend was $14k for the academic year, plus the income i was making at the bank.

2017, age 27

i did a complete 180 and decided i loved teaching more than anything else in the entire world, and i was willing to do whatever it took to become a teacher. i realized that to become a teacher, i needed to publish. begrudgingly i started submitting to literary journals. i also applied to summer workshops and got into tin house, which i highly recommend if that’s something you’re interested in. at tin house i met my dream agent, who seemed really interested in my work and encouraged me to query her as soon as i had a book done. 

a lot of personal drama happened that year. i was still working at the bank in addition to teaching a 2/2 and taking a full course load. in summer i had a long overdue mental breakdown. 

2017 was a rough year. i wrote 149k. this is the year i started keeping a dedicated expenses spreadsheet. i spent $174 in submission fees. tin house tuition with room and board was a little over $1500 + travel. i thought it was worth it because i met the agent i thought i would later sign, but that didn’t pan out. (i made some great friends though!!) tin house was definitely an unwise financial decision; i paid for it out of what little i managed to save in 2015.

2018, age 28

early in 2018, i went from teaching comp/rhet to creative writing, which only cemented my desire to teach writing as a career. i realized i was far better at teaching writing than writing, but i knew i had to keep writing to keep teaching (shocked pikachu.jpg), so i kept submitting to journals. i got my first story accepted. i didn’t receive any payment for that publication. i quit the bank early in the year (finally! after 10 years!) and was terrified about money, in part because my student loan payments were coming out of deferment and i was still paying off my hospital bills from my breakdown. 

in spring semester, i won a few departmental awards (totaling $500ish) and got a second story accepted (again, no payment). i also got accepted to another workshop which i will not name because i hated it. i graduated in may and defended my thesis in july. the thesis would later become my short story collection, zucchini.

in fall, i stayed on at my school as an adjunct, and started writing training wheels which would later become an original novel called baby. 

i wrote 450k in 2018. i paid $373 in submission fees. i was also nominated for an award for one of my publications but didn’t win. the workshop i went to was like $4000 with room and board (it was a month-long workshop). i got 75% of it covered with scholarships and i paid for the rest of it out of my savings, and even though i’d intended to drive there, my mom ended up buying me a plane ticket. again, i met a lot of big-wig writers i thought for sure would help me get an agent. i told myself i was networking, and that publication was all about Who You Knew. but that turned out not to be true for me.

as an adjunct i made $3200 per course, and i taught 3 classes in fall. in winter, i got my shit together and started applying for creative writing PhDs, mostly to convince my family i was doing something with my life, with no expectation that i would get in. in winter i applied to 2 schools. with application fees and the GRE, i ended up paying well over $500.

2019, age 29

in spring semester, i taught 2 classes while i revised training wheels into baby. when i had a completed manuscript, i finally pulled the plug and used all my networking contacts to get my dream agent i’d met at tin house. i queried her, and a very popular and well-regarded author i’d met at the other workshop emailed her on my behalf to tell her good things about me. i thought for sure i had it in the bag. this author also touched base with a few other agents whom he thought would like my work.

i didn’t hear back from any of them. not even a “no thanks.” i set down querying for a while. 

i got a third story picked up and published around this time, and i was paid $25 for it. they also nominated me for an award, and i don’t think i won? but i can’t find out who did win so idk.

my grandpa passed away and i decided to sell my house and move in with my grandma so she wouldn’t be alone. i got rejected from both PhD programs i applied to and decided to get a “real job” instead, and began applying for random positions that offered health insurance, because i knew i was drastically undermedicated and it was becoming a Problem.

near the end of spring semester, i moved out of my house, put it on the market, and was interviewing for a community development manager position for a nonprofit. at the same time, i found out about another university that was taking late-season applications, and i applied. five days later, i got accepted. one day after that, i got a job offer for the nonprofit. since i had no idea how long it would take for my house to sell, and being unable to afford both rent in a new city and my mortgage payment, i deferred my PhD acceptance for a year and decided to work at the nonprofit for a while. the risk was that i could only defer my admission, not my funding, so there was a chance that the following year i wouldn’t get the same funding package.

i lasted one month at the “real job” before i had another breakdown and ended up quitting. 

my house sold for well under the asking price and i received only $4000 in equity once it was all said and done. that’s a lot of money to me, but considering that i’d been paying on the house for 7 years, i was expecting a lot more.

i had a year to kill until the PhD so i decided to take a break from teaching and apply to artist residencies instead. i applied to 8 residencies and got accepted into 4, but only ended up attending 3, because the 4th was outrageously priced and there was no indication of the cost when i had applied.

in winter i picked up querying agents again. i queried 10 agents every other week. i also got a ghostwriting gig writing children’s books that paid $800 a month.

in 2019 i wrote 417k. i spent $441 in submission fees (to residencies and contests, not agent queries. never pay money to query an agent!!). i ended up teaching 3 classes fall semester.

2020, age 30

i started out the year driving across the country going to residencies. the first cost $100 (no food), the second cost $250 (A LOT OF VERY GOOD FOOD), and the third paid me $500. i was at the third when the pandemic hit.

the query rejections started rolling in. i gave up in february after 60 queries. of those 60, i received 7 manuscript requests for baby, but the consensus was that it was too long and plotless (you got me there.jpg). at the second residency completed and revised zucchini and decided to begin querying with that instead. i could only find a few agents who accepted collections so i only queried 16. i got one request for the manuscript but then didn’t hear back. i gave up in april shortly after the pandemic hit. 

when i figured the collection, like the novel, just wasn’t publishable, i started submitting to contests which is the more standard route for the genre. i submitted to 12 in total and was a finalist in 1. i was rejected or withdrew from the rest.

the PhD program reached out to ask if i was still interested in starting in fall, and i said i was, so they put me in the running for funding again and i was accepted. the stipend was $17k per academic year.

like most of us, i got totally derailed in spring and stopped doing basically everything. the ghostwriting gig started paying $1500 a month and i also started my creative coaching business, which slowly but surely began to supplement my income. i also received the $1200 stimulus. 

when school started, i quit the ghostwriting gig. i had no intention to continue querying either book, but i saw a twitter pitch event called DVpit (diverse voices) and decided to participate. for those who don’t know, a twitter pitch event is where you tweet the pitch for your book and use the hashtag, and agents scroll through the tag and like tweets. if an agent likes your tweet, you query them. 

i got one like, so i followed up with the query. the agent asked for the full MS and a couple weeks later followed up with the offer for representation. we talked on the phone, she sent me the contract, i asked for a couple changes, and then signed! 

so far this year i’ve written 375k and paid $518 in submission fees. i’ll give more details when i do my end of year roundup next month. oh, and i finally paid off my student loans.

totals

word count: 2.3 million

agent queries: 77

agent MS requests: 9

agent rejections: 28

agent no responses: 44

short story submissions: 86

short story acceptances: 3

short story income: $25

total submission/application fees: $1472

my (final) query letter

honestly this query letter probably isn’t very good which is why i got such a minimal response, but it got the job done eventually.

Thank you for expressing interest in ZUCCHINI through this year's DVpit event.

ZUCCHINI is a collection that views sex through an asexual lens. It poses inquiries into constructs like gender, sexuality, and love to dissect the patriarchal/puritanical foundations from which our social perspectives often derive. Being a collection about asexuality, each story portrays a relationship that develops from forms of attraction other than physical.

In one story, a grieving widow purchases her first sex toy; in another, a woman uses sex to cope with the death of her abusive father, and later in the collection faces the long road to recovery; an administrative assistant seeks out a codependent relationship with her boss; a masochist hires a professional sadist to lead him toward self-actualization; a woman begins to recover from her sexual assault by staging a reenactment on her own terms; and lastly, two lifelong friends in a queerplatonic relationship decide to get married. Asexuality is an under-acknowledged identity within the LGBTQIA community and is often misunderstood. In seven stories, ZUCCHINI dissects the notion of attraction, explores the intersections of sexual identity and trauma recovery, and conveys the experience of intimacy without physical desire.

Three stories in the collection have been published in literary magazines. “Lien” appeared in volume 24 of Quarter After Eight and was nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. “An Informed Purchase” appeared in the summer 2018 issue of Midwestern Gothic and won the Jordan-Goodman Prize in Fiction. “The Ashtray” appeared in issue 16 of Rivet Journal and has been nominated for a 2020 Pushcart Prize.

Complete at 53,000 words, ZUCCHINI is a collection in conversation with Carmen Maria Machado’s HER BODY AND OTHER PARTIES, Lauren Groff’s FLORIDA, and Samantha Hunt’s THE DARK DARK.

If ZUCCHINI is of interest to you, I would be happy to send you the manuscript. Per your guidelines, I've appended the first twenty pages below, which is the entirety of the first story.

what comes next

i’m going to spend january revising the collection per my agent’s feedback. when i send it back to her, she’ll shoot it out to the first round of publishers. my understanding is that the goal is to get multiple offers on it so that it has to go to auction. if there are no offers, she’ll do another round of submissions, and so on, until we’ve exhausted our options. if that happens, we’ll reassess, but by then hopefully i’ll have another novel finished.

meanwhile, i’ll be continuing the PhD which entails teaching a 2/2, workshop, and 2 lit seminars per semester. i’m also still doing my creative coaching, writing fanfic, and working on my original projects. in summer, i’ll finally be moving to hopefully start going to school in person next fall. 

the PhD is a 3 year program with an optional fourth year. i don’t see myself finishing in 3 years so i do plan to take the extra year unless something comes up. after the PhD, i’m not sure what i’ll do. a lot will probably change by then so i’m trying not to commit to one idea. i might apply to post-doc fellowships and tenure track positions, or i might leave the country and teach overseas, or i might move to LA and try to get in a writer’s room somewhere. i’ve got a lot of options.

overall thoughts/stuff i learned

first of all, you don’t have to go through all of this to publish a book. you could feasibly just write a book and query agents. the only reason it took me this long is because my PTSD brain was sabotaging me every step of the way and i didn’t start taking anything seriously until i found something i was willing to fight for (teaching). i went the MFA/literary route but other, faster routes are just as good. maybe better. probably better. actually if there’s any chance you can go a different route, you should take it.

reflecting on all of this, very little of it has anything to do with talent or being a good writer. nor does it have to do with being at the right place at the right time. i’ve only made it this far because i took very small steps over and over again, and during that walk met people who could help me -- the authors who have mentored me, the editors who accepted my stories, the agent who signed me. and as i got further along my path, i started being able to help other writers in the way i was helped. 

i don’t believe i’ll ever be a great writer. the best thing i can say about my writing is that it’s competent and accessible. everything i write sets out to do something and most of the time it gets the job done. i don’t imagine i’ll ever be able to financially support myself with publishing, and i’ll certainly never be famous or well-known, but i’m good enough to keep making progress. i’ll probably continue to find opportunities that are adjacent to writing and that will keep me afloat, pending my health and provided the country doesn’t devolve into civil war. 

probably the most important thing i learned in all this is that having a wide appeal isn’t the goal. you don’t write to be lauded or liked. you have to stay as true to yourself and your interests as you possibly can, so that the people who come across your path can see you and help you. you’ll need those people; no one gets anywhere alone. if you pander, if you’re too concerned with praise and success or being adored, you won’t make it very far. the rejection will eventually kill you. 

with all that said, my advice to you is this: never stop writing. the ability to share our stories is the single most precious thing we have. you can’t let anything stop you from telling your stories the way you need them to be told.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Fifteen Seconds.”

Warning: For graphic depictions of injury that are sort of gross

The senator's son lay on the cold hard floor of the brig. The tears had long since tried up and the abject terror of his situation had faded to a dull sense of panic. He lay on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees rocking back and forth as he stared at the wall.

He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.

Maybe if he had just listened to his father, listened to his mother too and not taken the shuttle for a weekend gambling trip on the Tesraki home planet, maybe then he wouldn't be in this predicament. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten so drunk he would have seen them coming and been able to defend himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining all of his friends passed out back at the casino, probably unaware that he was missing. 

He looked down at his pathetic body covered in a flashy white suit and blue undershirt that had originally been designed to mirror the twenties for his outing, now it was rumbled and torn at the bottom, and his jacket was missing. He felt silly and stupid.

He wanted to go back home to the family mansion where it was safe and where the house staff would bring him breakfast in bed. He would have done anything, even tell his father that he was right, and that he’d behave. hell , he would even be happy to go to military school like his father had threatened on so many occasions. Anything to be away from where he was right now.

There was a rattling outside his cell, and he looked up to see two of the pirates standing outside his cell, the first the dark furred tesraki and the second a light-skin redheaded human with a crooked grin and bad teeth. He curled up further into the corner with a whimper. The human laughed, and the Tesraki flicked it’s ears, “not so cocky now are we Master Bauer.” he curled up with his head in his his hands and stifled a sniffle.

The other human laughed. It was an ugly sound.

“We have just sent word to your father Ten million credits for the safe return of his poor son, and no involvement with law enforcement or we shoot you out of the airlock.” The Tesraki leaned against the bars, “personally i want the money, but.” he jerked a thumb back at the read headed human, “Terry here wants to shoot someone out the airlock, so you better hope daddy comes through, or you will be experiencing a horribly painful death.” “Actually, it is likely he would pass out after 15 seconds and asphyxiate.” the human added 

The Tesraki glowered at him but continued on, “ANYWAY. We will leave you to your moping while we go wait for your father’s ransome. If he loves you enough he probably wont take too long. That is assuming that you were a good son and hes not GLAD that you got kidnapped by pirates.” The Tesraki looked at him thoughtfully, “Then again I am having my doubts. You are a little shit.”

Pier had to stifle a sob covering his mouth with his hand as the pirates laughed and turned away.

He begged his father silently to send the money, though doubts were beginning to weasel their way into his mind. He wasn’t a particularly good son. He had crashed multiple of his father’s vintage cars, stolen his new however car and wrecked that. He had brought police down on their family for drug charges, and forced them to pay thousands of dollars on court bills. He had lied and cheated and stolen He had maxed out seven credit cards, and his latest stunt had involved stealing his father’s shuttle to take his friends from private school out on a all expenses paid gambling trip to the Tesraki homeworld, where the age limit on both drinking and gambling was…. Well there was none.

He sobbed again, feeling his heart sink and knowing that his father would not come for him.

Why would he want him back after all the things that he had done.

Once upon a time it had all seemed like some big game, but now he could see that his past actions would be more than enough to guarantee his horrible and painful death.

Tears began to stream down his face again, and he was almost surprised to find that he had any left to give. No one was there, so he didn’t feel bad about his pathetic sobbing, and occasional whimpering for his mother. Maybe she could convince his father to come after him. Despite all the things he had done, he always had a good relationship with her. He admitted to himself now that he had used her love on multiple occasions to get him out of things he probably should have suffered as punishment, but despite that he knew their relationship was sound.

Please mother, please convince father to get me out of this.

He lay there in the darkness for who knew how long thinking about his parents and repeatedly begging them over and over to come save him. At first he expected the Tesraki to come in at any moment and release him into the waiting arms of his father’s security detail, but as the hours wore on, and the meals began to pile up by the door, his hope faded diminishing until he was dumb inside and knew that his father was not coming for him.

He had brought this on himself by being a horrible son, and he was going to suffer the consequences.

He fell asleep sometime during that night tears still wet on his face, only to wake up a few hours later to the sound of shouting and running footsteps. He sat up and tilted his head to the side listening as, in the distance, he heard the sound of gunfire, and the occasional body dropping to the floor.

He shifted and wobbled to his feet, walking over to the side of his cell and peering out with bleary eyes crusted with salt.

The screaming and yelling grew louder, but with one last loud BANG, everything seemed to go silent.

Then the voices started up again.

He leaned forward and thought that he heard the red haired pirate laughing in the distance.

He had no idea what was going on, but pressed himself further against the bars, trying to peer out into the hallway.

Things calmed down after that, and he was left alone again. 

He was just beginning to doze off to sleep, when the door to his cell was violently thrown open, and the Tesraki came marching into the room a look of absolute rage on his face.

Pier scrambled back into the corner of the room eyes wide as Terry followed behind. The man had a bandage on his cheek, and a gauze patch over one eye. His usual crooked grin had been replaced by a snarl of annoyance and anger.

The Tesraki stopped just before Pier, his fuzzy little hands balled into fists, “You…. you little bastard.”

Pier raised his hands as if afraid he was going to be struck, “I...I didn’t do anything.”

The Tesraki ignored him, “Your father could not follow one SIMPLE order, and now I am going to have to make an example out of you. The money would have been nice, but now Terry is going to get to live out one of his childhood fantasies”

Terry’s grin appeared again, and Pier screamed as the man reached forward and hauled him violently to his feet by the back of his shirt. He kicked and screamed and cried as he was dragged from the cell and out down the hall.

“I told your father not to get the authorities involved. I told him that if he loved you, than he was going to have to send the mone and forget any of this ever happened, but NO the man had to go out and do something stupid, and now we are all oing to come out with less because of this. I am going to lose ten billion and he is going to lose his only son.”

Pier screamed and tried kickin at Terry’s legs, which finally annoyed the man enough that he slammed pier up against the wall, a single massive hand clutched tightly around his neck. Pier tried to scratch as the man’s hands but he was rammed back against the wall until he saw stars.

His legs went limp and he was dragged the rest of the way down the hall.

“There is no use in fighting my dear boy. You are going to die in a way that not many humans have had the privilege. I think it might be less than a hundred. Either way it isn’t going to be pretty. Assuming there is air in your lungs those will probably rupture first, so you will suffocate, and then all the gasses will boil out of your blood because of the reduction in pressure. Sort of like getting the beds but very quickly. You will die very very quickly.”

Pier felt another sob coming on.

“I imagine that it is one of the most terrifying ways to die, staring up tat the stars overhead and underneath, exposed to temperatures below 400 degrees. Granted heat leaks out of your body slower in the vacuum of space so it actually isn’t the cold that is going to kill you surprise surprise.”

The Sick Tesraki Bastard seemed to be enjoying this, which Pier didn’t understand. He had plenty of Tesraki friends who he enjoyed hanging out with and while they tended to be a little bit greedy and weren't above counting cards, they would never think about killing someone in cold blood.

They made their way around the next corner, and into the docking bay where the rest of the crew was standing, and he was surprised to find another unfamiliar face, another prisoner.

At least that is what he assumed considering the man was kneeling on the ground with weapons pointed at his head.

Pier was thrown down next to the man as the pirates conversed among themselves.

He took the time to turn his head and look over at the other prisoner. The man turned to look at him and somehow managed a roguish and nonchalant smile, his blind hair sticking up in spiky tufts where drying blood caked through it. 

The man was dressed in a dark black undersuit designed to be worn with a space suit though the hood was down, and over his right eye he wore….. And eyepatch.

Pier’s eyes widened, and the corner of the man’s mouth twitched, “Ah, good to see you alive.”

“Y-your the guy from that movie.”

The man rolled his eyes, “yeah, I am the guy from that movie, but more importantly I am here to rescue you.’

Pier stared at him incredulously, and he felt his face go red with subtle anger, “Well you're doing a bang up job.” He snarled, “really, I am sure this is JUST how you planned it.”

Rather than looking offended or worried the man just shrugged, “No, no it actually went horribly wrong about two hours ago. Sort of one of those if it can go wrong it will go wrong things. Like it was a great plan and all but everything kind of went to shit all at once.” He glanced down to inspect his nails, “I was supposed to be able to get on the ship and sneak through to rescue you without any issues, but my suit malfunctioned and then my weapon malfunctioned and then the maps for this place were completely wrong, and etc etc. You know good times. Of course, I called in my crew for backup, but they probably won’t be here until it’s too late.”

Pier stared at him mortified, how was he so calm!

“Did my father send you?”

“Yes the Senator did send me.”

“And now we are both going to die because you fucked everything up?”

The man turned his head and frowned, “So negative. Are you like this all the time.”

“HOW CAN YOU NOT BE NEGATIVE WE ARE GOING TO DIE!”

The man just rolled his eyes, “Will you stop bitching for about five seconds. I am counting on the fact that I have used up all of my bad luck for today and all of my good luck is going to hit momentarily.”

Pier dropped his head into his hands. This IDIOT was going to get them killed. He was so mad at that moment that he couldn’t even cry about it.

“He should have just paid the ransom, not sent some asshole idiot to try and rescue me.” he moaned 

Adam snorted, “You think your father has that much money.” He barked a laugh and pier stared at him.

“What are you talking about?”

The man shook his head, “Listen kid, your daddy isn’t exactly good with his money, a trait that you, evidently inherited. He’s about a month away from declaring bankruptcy because guess what, his son keeps racking up a literal shitload of debt, but apparently he pawned off his family jules at some point in there to keep you all going because he doesn’t have the courage to admit it and actually start living below his means.”

Pier stared open mouthed at him, “And he told you this”

“No, but I got suspicious when he didn’t do exactly what you said he should be doing, so I had my team of accountants, Tesraki by the way run the numbers on his net worth and gross income and all of hie expenses. Tesraki are rarely inaccurate when it comes to money.”

“So this is my fault.” He squeaked 

The man rested a hand on his shoulder, “Not your fault kid. It's your parents fault for turning you into the manchild version of Veruca Salt.”

He was about to be offended, when their conversion was cut off by the Tesraki who moved forward grabbing the man by the air had tilting his chin back, “Admiral Vir, you know if the GA didn’t have a policy against paying ransom, I would toss the kid out of the airlock and use you instead, but unfortunately you are now both useless to me.”

The admiral didn’t look too concerned as he grinned at the Tesraki, “Yeah sucks to suck for you I guess.”

The Tesraki flattened its ears back against its head, “You seem rather chipper for someone who is going to die in the vacuum of space.”

Admiral Vir shrugged, “You know I’ve honestly had way worse days than this. It doesn’t even reach my top ten if I’m being honest. I would put it somewhere around eighteen or nineteen.”

The Tesraki smiled an evil smile, “Well why don’t we see if we can change that. Terry, throw them in the airlock.”

The big ginger moved forward and grabbed them both by the back of their shirts, hauling them to their feet. Pier screamed and kicked and begged and pleased, but Admiral Vir only put up a token amount of resistance, a sort of glassy smile on his face as he was led towards the airlock and shoved violently inside. The door slammed shut behind them and Pier threw himself at the door screaming and sobbing.

Admiral Vir stood and dusted himself off looking around the room with a half frown on his face.

He tilted his head suddenly and smiled, “Glad to see you guys could make it. Do you mind doing me a favor.”

Pier didn’t pay attention to the rest of the man’s instructions as he continued to scream.

After finishing what he was about to say, Admiral Vir glanced around at the room, and his face lit up with a huge smile as he proceeded to stretch his arms and legs as if he were about to run a 5k, “I have ALWAYS wanted to try this.” Pier was nearly shocked out of his state of panic as he turned to look at the Admiral, who walked over to the nearby wall and used his elbow to shatter the glass on a handheld fire extinguisher.

He pulled it out and looked it over, “You know, there really is no point of keeping a fire extinguisher in the airlock, all you have to do is open the doors and vent the fire into space, but I guess whoever McGyvered this piece of shit together had no idea what they were doing.” He glanced down at it, “I sure hope this thing works”

He pulled the pin just as lights began flashing overhead.

Pier sobbed.

Admiral Vir walked over to him, grabbing him around the arm and looking at him with one hard, green eye, “I need you to breathe out, son.”

“What! Why?”

“Just do it.”

“No you have to-”

He saw the look in the man’s eyes and guessed what was happening too late as he drew back a fist and underhand punched him in the gut so hard he nearly collapsed to the floor, all the wind completely knocked out of him in one loud woosh, and his diaphragm ceased to work.

He couldn't even squeak out his pain as the man grabbed him around his middle fire extinguisher in his left hand hoze in his right.

And then All sound was sucked from the world and he was violently thrown off his feat as they were sucked from the airlock and into the vacuum of space. 

His ears ruptured into violent pain as his eardrums were torn apart.

Sheer unadulterated panic set in as stars whirled above him black and dark.

One

He heard nothing, he smelled nothing, he tasted nothing.

He couldn't breathe.

He wasn’t as cold as he thought he should be but death surrounded him on all sides, his body exposed to the direct touch of infinity.

Two

The only thing he could feel was the tight pressure of the Admiral’s Arm around his waist.

Three

He looked up, feeling no sensation against his kin, since there were no air particles for him to move through. Looking up At Admiral Vir’s face, lips pressed tightly together one green eye wide and manic.

Four

His body tingled and the surface of his eyes and tongue began to bubble slowly

They were jolted back again, and a trail of white vapor vented into space below their feet.

Five 

His lungs screamed for air, the bubbling on his tongue and eyes increased in intensity.

 Six

His skin Hurt.

Seven 

He was sure he was going to pass out.

Eight

His entire body hurt.

Nine

Then the darkness passed over them, and his vision was obscured.

They slammed against something hard and then dropped to the floor as gravity engaged.

If he could have screamed he would have.

The light of the stars was blocked out, and though he couldn't hear it, he felt the burst of air across his skin as the airlock was pressurized.

He gasped.

And that’s when the pain hit him, Pure unreal agony. Fire across his entire body

He couldn't see, he couldn't hear.

***

Dr Krill rushed into the airlock with the entire team of medical staff behind him. The two bodies lay on the floor like bloated corpses, their skin mottled a horrible purple red. 

There was no way they were alive.

He threw himself down next  to Adam, nearly unrecognizable now, and was surprised to find his chest heaving up and down as he was still breathing. He reached up and pulled off the eyepatch as others rushed forward to cut away their clothing.

The mechanical green eye spun to look at him, undamaged by the vacuum of space.

Someone placed an IV while Krill worked eye drops into his real eye and more of the same solution onto his mouth, nose and tongue, so dry it was like sandpaper or worse.

One of the nurses had to leave the room as the mottled skin of the two bodies was too hard to stomach.

“Knock them out.” krill ordered.

Adam wheezed the rehydrating solution doing it’s work on his tongue and throat. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose as the water made its way inside.

“You STUPID stupid man.” Krill snarled at the body, as the mechanical eye rolled back into his head, “Stupid stupid stupid stupid human.”

Granted he knew Adam had had no other choice, but still… only humans could survive in the vacuum of space, but this was the price, the horrible, horrible price.

***

Full body bruising and a couple of stem cell treatments later and Adam was feeling pretty chipper for someone who looks like a cruised corpse. His skin was a light delicate shade or purple unevenly spotted in certain areas, and his eardrums were just beginning to heal with their advanced medicine, so he was like a deff old granny for the moment, but all the same he was doing pretty good.

Granted the same stunt pulled in the movie Titan AE had been way cooler, considering those two hadn’t suffered any of the side effects, but now he could say he survived the vacuum of space conscious and lived to tell the tale.

Which was pretty badass if he did say so himself.

Which, he did.

Smiling, his face hurting. He walked with young Pier down the walkway both of them stiff and soar, walking like the old grannies they were as deff as.

At the bottom of the ramp two very concerned looking parents rushed forward to greet their sun eyes widening in horror at the state of him, mottled purple skin and all.

Adam stopped a few feet away wishing he could go lay down.

The senator looked up at him, “What the hell did you do to my son! Adam shrugged, “Well I stopped us both from dying is what I did, though it wasn’t easy. On the bright side, your son is going to make a full recovery and have an awesome story to tell in the process.”

The senator looked like he was going to lose his damn mind, but the boy cut in, “Dad….” “Yes son, whatever you want, whatever you need?”

He paused, “A nap would be cool and….” He glazed back over his shoulder at Adam, “Maybe military school wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Adam grinned and the boys parents looked shocked  but turned away as their shiny black car arrived.

He continued to smile as he watched them drive away and didn’t hear Sunny as she came up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, “Are you ok.”

He continued to smile, through through his teeth he said, “Once they leave can you carry me inside, my soul hurts.”

***

Humans can survive 15 seconds in the vacuum of space.

We aren’t jealous of this ability. 

[unlikelyempathpruneauthor]

'Family support's just so wholesome, i can't! Your writing's great 💙 i have a request (tho it's more than fine if you're not taking them/ don't feel like doing this one): bau!reader losing a loved one, not telling anyone and throwing themselves into work but masking it up pretty well so no one notices how broken they are until after a though case reader falls asleep on the jet and has a nightmare, reid puts 2 & 2 together and comforts them.. idk just feeling a bit moody today, hope u r fine 😊

Hold you in my arms

A/N: hey! I'm glad you enjoyed family support! Im glad you also enjoy my writing thank you so much! im sorry I took forever to write this one up! Hopefully its what you wanted. I did kinda rush the case so we could have Spencer and reader content, so sorry if it is rushed and bad. hope you enjoy this one!

TW: family member going through cancer.

things to know: the italics in the beginning are going through the death of the brother, and near the end is the dream. regular font is what happened or is happening how ever you want to put it.

You were a really private person, for the most part, but with your team, they knew mostly everything about you. Which knowing them for years was okay with you. As long as they didn’t know any more details you were fine with that. Your family meant everything to you and you wanted them safe. You never wanted to be the reason they were tortured or even killed.

However some things that caused death weren't your fault completely. Your brother was getting near to death. He’s been fighting leukemia since he was 15 and recently it's been getting worse. You stayed with him the days you didn’t work or didn’t get called in. Lucky the last few days you had with him you only had paperwork to finish.

The team noticed how fast you would complete them and how detailed and well written they were so they thought nothing of it. Spencer though he noticed despair and worry, but he didn’t say anything since you two were only friends and if you had something to tell him you would reach out.

“Is she okay?” Prentiss asked as the team shrugged. “Yeah Spence is she alright seems like something is up?” Rossi said as Spencer shrugged not knowing what was wrong with his best friend and “secret” crush. “She hasn’t said anything or talked to me, she’ll probably talk when she’s ready” he said as that left the team with that and spending their own free time the way they do.

You would walk into the hospital with two thoughts in your mind. “He’s alright he’s okay, he’s fighting” or “it’s too late you work too much and now he’s gone” and when you would enter the room relief was hit and you saw him eating or watching tv.  

You two would talk and spend time with one another, but he would beg you to go back to work and not worry. “Matt, no I'm staying until they call alright? You said as he held your hand. “Please go back to work I’m fine, I know you’ll make it in time once my monitor goes crazy” he said as you glared at him. “Don’t say that, I’m staying.” You said as he gave you the look your mother gave you. “Ugh fine I’ll go, but you need to call me if anything happens.

Like that you would go back to work and finish even more paperwork. Like nothing was wrong. You were sad inside but you didn’t show. You were strong, well you had to be, your brother was told he was gonna live for 2 months and he just passed his 1 month, this scared you. You couldn’t lose him now. He was your other half considering how young he was. Why do good people die young and terribly?

When that day came, you were called by your mom. You were home so you quickly left your home not even worrying if you left something on, your main focus was your brother. Seeing him alive when you go there.

Once you got to the hospital you arrived and saw them resuscitate him. They gave you a look that said, he wasn’t gonna make it and you needed to say goodbye. Your parents were sitting in chairs while you held your brother in your arms like the first time you met him. He was just your little baby brother and you knew he was gonna do great things.

Memories of you and him passed through your brain like one of those movies. The good and the bad. As the monitor went flat he was gone, your baby brother was gone. Tears just flushed through your eyes not caring if some got onto him. All you could do was hug him and let him rest the way he wanted to. In your arms.

“It’s okay, it’s time for you to rest.” You said as you kissed his head and held on for a while longer.

That was the last time you saw him. You currently got back from the funeral, and you changed so the team didn’t notice anything. As you walked over to your desk you got a new picture frame out with a picture of you and your brother when you were 10 and he was about 3. You smiled at the way your brother smiled.

“Y/n” someone said. “Y/n? You alright?” Spencer said as you looked at him. “Yeah Spence sorry I was just thinking. What’s up?” You asked as he smiled. “Well we have a case, so let’s go?” He said as you smiled back and headed to the conference room.

The case introduced was about an unsub killing young 20 year old males. Most of them were either in college or working for their families. They were good people but they were just killed for no reason. Which made you think of Matt. What if….no stop it.

As you debriefed the case you were headed to New Orleans. As you got your go bag you were met by spencer who was waiting for you per usual, spencer noticed something stopped you. “y/n? You okay?” he asked as he startled you and you blinked many times not knowing he was there. “Yeah im okay, uh just thinking.” you said as he hummed. “Alright..oh is that a new picture?” he asked as he grabbed the new frame with your picture. “Actually it's an old one, i just thought i could have another picture you know.” you said as he nodded. “Yeah, i do, is this your brother?” he asked as you nodded. “Yeah i was 10 and he was about 3 years old in that photo, it was the first day of school for the both of us, he was going to preschool and i was going into the fourth grade” you said as he noticed your sincere smile. “Is he doing okay?” he asked as your heart stopped, but you knew you had to lie, you didn't want to bother him. “He's fine, going into his fourth year of college,” you said as he nodded, but he read through your lie, you thought your heart stopped internally, but your whole body shifted and he knew something happened. you then were interrupted by a hotch. “Guys we should get going, seems like they need us earlier than i thought.” he said as you nodded heading over to the jet.

As you read through the file you were still thinking about Matt, you knew he wanted you to work instead of grieving for him, and you were gonna do that until it was gonna finally break you. You just kept thinking about getting privacy to let the tears to come out.

As you landed, you had to talk to the family of the recent victim. As you got there you saw them break down, not only did you lose someone, they did too. As if your instincts were nagging at you, you walked in to talk to the family, understanding completely what they were going through.

After talking to the parents, they told you Jerry was sick. He had been going through some type of chemotherapy and he didn't go to his last one days before getting kidnapped. That was weird, maybe the unsub knew who they were. But you didn't really know how to back that up with so you called garcia.

“Hello my beautiful princess, how may i serve you today?” she asked as you smiled. “God pen, never change,” you said as she hummed. “Not in any world my love.” she said as you looked down at your file. “Hey can you see if any of our victims was going through some type of therapy, like chemo?” you asked as she typed away and you waited.

Maybe this was some type of coincidence, like god was giving you a chance to save someone, after losing someone.

“Woah, uhh, our first victim, David, had thyroid cancer, and our other two victim, had leukemia. How does this connect?” she asked as you sighed. “Our latest victim had some type of cancer and was going through, chemotherapy.” you said as she sighed. “God why would someone kill someone who is going through a hard time?” she said as you sighed as well. “I don't know love, that's what I'm gonna figure out.” you said as she hung up leaving you to tell the team. You walked over to where everyone was standing and they seemed to pay attention before you began to talk.

“So all of our victims went through some type of sickness that involved them to get chemotherapy, what if our unsub is going through that and by killing them they are taking their place by getting some chemotherapy.” you said as they all shuffled looking through.

“That could explain why they didn't have certain belongings with them. And could explain why some didn't have their id.” Morgan said as you nodded. “Alright well call garcia to widen her search, good job y/n” hotch said as you nodded. “And this person might be working near any of the hospitals, our victims went to.” you said as they all nodded and you were getting ready to deliver the profile.

While this happened you got a call from your mother. You quickly picked it up leaving the room. “I'm sorry I have to take this.” you said as hotch nodded and you went into a hallway.

“Hey mom? Everything okay?” you asked as she hummed  “i am, its just i really hate to bother you, but i can afford the funeral i only paid half of it... And i don't wanna ask you for money-” she said, stumbling over her words as you cut her off. “Mom hey, dont worry about that, let me give you my credit card information all right? Tell them to send me the bill to my apartment. You don't have to worry about it alright?” you said as she sighed and sobbed. “Okay, im sorry...its just i saved up money for college but it wasn't enough and i know you do-” she said as you cut her off again. “Mom don't worry about it. I had some money saved up for him too in case he needed something. It's fine mom.” you said as you kept reassuring her. You then met the team again as they had a lead.

“Hey sorry it was my mom.” you said as they found a guy who lost his family because his wife had left him for his best friend, he was then told he had lung cancer and didn't have insurance or enough money to pay for his treatment. He was recently seen at the same hospital all the victims were at, and that meant he was getting ready for his next victim. He also worked as a janitor at the hospitals, which explained how he got the information from them.

You and Reid were sent to his house as the rest of the team was sent to the hospital. As you got there you noticed the lights were on. “You check the front while i check the back.” he said as you nodded. You had a police officer behind you as you cleared the house. Everything seemed clear, but the odd things was why were the lights on. He probably left in a rush.

You both checked everything as found and he had schedules of the patients. He also worked in many hospitals which explained how he met the other two victims. Reid called hotch and gave him the address to the hospital next on the list. It was most likely he was just living here because you didn't find any bodies in the house, but you still searched outside his house.

You were walking around the back as you noticed humps in the ground...oh no. “reid! I think i've got bodies” you said as reid came along with a dog and they were sniffing and barking. “Yeah he definitely killed them here. Morgan and prentiss just found a shack a couple miles away from here and all their clothes and stuff are. Where is he though?” he said as you nodded.

You ended up finding him in the hospital reid found next on the list. They ended up getting the guy and taking him to the station. He was in the interrogation room and hotch let you take him. Reid was with you and you just stared at the unsub.

“You ready?” he asked as you nodded. He walked over to the door entering the room as the unsub looked at both of you as you sat down. “So uh mark? Right?” reid said as the unsub nodded. “Yeah, can you tell me why I'm here?” he said as you looked at Reid and he let you take the lead. “Well mark, your property is filled with missing people who were filled missing, you know, because their family cares about them. Why did you kill them?” you asked as he scoffed. “Please my family cares about me.” he said as you glared at him.

“Really mark, they do? Then why aren't they here? We know your wife left you for your best friend and he matched all the victims appearances. You killed innocent boys who were just starting their life. You're just mad that their lives were settled and not yours.” you said as the unsub felt uncomfortable that you knew all that.

“Mark, we know you killed them because you were eventually gonna kill your own friend.” reid said as he just shook his head as if he was going crazy.

You two were just throwing the truth at him as he exploded.

“I had to do it! They were gonna ruin someone else’s life too! I couldn't let them go through that.” he said as you too got your confession, not that you needed it.

“Look mark, we didn't need this but we got what we need and i hope you get what you deserve.” you said as he yelled, “you don't even know what they felt. Why do you care so much!” he said as you stopped in your tracks and turned around. “You know what i do, i know what it's like to lose someone, they were already suffering so much, and you ruined it more for them. They had more time, but you didn't care. If you really care, family is important, and losing one is even worse, especially from sickness. Knowing that i couldn't do anything hurts. You're the one who doesn't know. You only know what it felt like to kill them knowing you were gonna live and they were gonna die.” you said leaving as reid and everyone behind that mirror just heard what you said.

As you got back on the jet, you were so tired you fell asleep right away. You were just so tired you didn't know what to do.

You were running through the unsubs home and noticed a body that looked familiar. It was matt. You quickly ran over to him and saw his face. He was already dead. You then were tied up seeing the unsub shoot him over and over. “NO! Matt, no! You had more time! Why!” you said.

“You had more time….why did you kill him…” you mumbled as you were moving around a lot and crying. Reid noticed and he quickly put his book down as he shook you up. “y/n...hey it's just a dream...y/n'' he said as you woke up with tears falling out of your eyes. “Im sorry, sorry.” you said as you wiped your own tears away. You sat there in complete silence. You were comfortable so it wasn't awkward.

You then saw the way Reid looked at you, which was the look that told you he knew what was wrong. You sighed in defeat as you asked him. “How do you know?” you asked as he half smiled. “Well today when you mentioned Matt, your mood changed, and I knew something was wrong, and you also wanted to comfort the victims family. You seemed like you knew what they were going through. And when you told us about the victims being sick, you seemed really sad for them more than a regular person would be and when you talked about losing family, I knew something was up.” he said as you nodded. “So you profiled me huh?” you said as he nodded and gave you a sincere smile

He was waiting, but he spoke first. “y/n i'm here for you, just know that, even if you feel alone i'm here for you always.” he said as you nodded.

He was about to get up as you spoke. “Matt died...two days ago...and the funeral was today, and i'm not okay.” you said as your tears fell out. Spencer held you as he wiped your tears away. “I'm so sorry, y/n.” he said as you shook your head. “spence its fine.” you said as he nodded, but he knew it wasn't fine. “Its just...when he died, i held him in my hands. I was there when it happened.” you said as he felt very sorry that you had to go through that.

“Im so sorry. Here come here.” he said as he opened his arms so he could hold you. You were thankful for Spencer, he was always there for you and you were glad he was there for you for this. It made being able to grieve much easier.

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Anger Management | Satan

Request: So I can’t get this thought out of my mind cause I’d love to have a “date” like this with Satan! What if MC tried to help Satan express his rage by inviting him to a secret “date” they planned. A date that takes place at a rage room! The thought of MC encouraging Satan to unleash his anger in a safe way in a rage room where you can break things freely with no consequences sounds so fun! Any writers on here please I’m begging you, this would be such a good story!

Word Count: 1561 words

Page Count: 4.3 pages

A/n: okay, when i saw this, i ended up thinking of the cafe instead of the room sorry about that, but i loved the idea to much and i hope you still like it! also that was the only gif i could find with satan in it like we need more of this boi

Tags: @mrlovememes​

        "Rage Restaurant. Really?" Satan asked, an amused smile on his face while looking down at your phone, shaking his head in a moderate disbelief at the idea of your first date on Earth being... this. Sitting up on his bed, his head on your shoulder while the sleep in his voice was evident, the date you had set up for him tonight did interest him very much.

        "Yeah! The plates are made of hardened sugar and all the knives and forks are dulled, you can even get a miscalculated bill at the end just to make sure you have everything out, isn't that cool?" You beamed at the idea, after seeing the restaurant pop up on your Instagram feed, you had made a reservation that night. Still in a tank top and shorts, your sleep left your body immediately once you had showed him the restaurant, thinking that this would be a good outlet for the demon of your life.

        Currently, you, the brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, and the angels are on a small two week trip to the human world. Lucifer claims it was for business, but with how excited Diavolo was, you started to think they all had planned it for a bit to see what the human race was up to up close and personal. You had your regular phone back, but on the first day Lucifer had taken you to get phones for the rest of the boys, which he paid for, and made you set up the numbers for each phone, so with your DDD you were sure the electric bill of the house they were renting would shoot up fairly quickly.

        "But, what if things get out of hand?" He asked, a bit unsure of releasing his rage on you while you just sat there, without someone there to watch. His anxiety bubbled slightly, thoughts of accidentally hurting you physically or emotionally made his heart drop a bit, he dug his head into your neck slightly to comfort himself from the thought.

        "The waiters are like moderators. And trust me. I know you wont hurt me. You can just yell at me while you break the things around you. I made a special reservation to have some tables around us cleared if that makes you feel better." You tried to ease him into the idea, knowing you had set up the date so that he can release his rage without having to worry about consequences, you did everything you could to prepare your area for him.

        When making the reservation, you were in the kitchen as Lucifer was cooking and Mammon was sitting on the counter next to you, both who offered to stay in the background of the date to watch over him. Though you loved Satan with all your heart, and you knew he wouldn't hurt you with the control he has managed to gain as time went on, but having some insurance wouldn't hurt either.

        Allowing Lucifer and Mammon to sit at the other end of the restaurant, you got a table for them to fake fight at while keeping an eye on Satan, having everything set for your date.

        "Are you sure?" He took a deep breath, looking down at the confirmation of your time and tables, his hand coming up to rub up and down your thigh.

        "Yes. And that's why it was a surprise. Because everything is already set up and I think it would be good for you. Though, if you really don't want to, I'm not forcing you either." Your voice started to settle into a whisper near the end, turning your face to rest it into his hair, your right hand also coming up to lightly scratch his head.

        "Mmm." He hummed, enjoying the feeling of your nails on his scalp, calming him further. You both had stayed there for a good five minutes before he spoke up.

        "Fine. Thank you. For everything."

        "No problem!"

*****

        The drive to the restaurant was pretty entertaining, with you driving and finding parking, Satan found your ever so small amount of road rage quite funny to the point he was cackling at you while you were trying to explain something.

        "It's a recording studio that kinda just- BITCH!" You slammed both hands onto the horn while slamming on the breaks, trying to not crash into the guy that just cut you off, your sigh of irritation only had him burst with some laughter before continuing on.

        "Oh yeah, keep laughing." You smirked while turning into the driveway up the hill, and finding a place to park, you pulled the keys and smiled widely.

        "Maybe you need this more than me." He mused.

        "Eh." You responded, sitting in silence for a bit, before breaking it.

        "Ready?"

        "As I'll ever be."

*****

        Sitting down at your table, you smiled as the waitress poured about six glasses of water, leaving to grab some food for Satan to throw was well.

        "You ready?" You grinned, looking at how awkward he seemed to be, you sat back and saw Lucifer and Mammon sit at a corner table near the front of the restaurant.

        "I... I don't know where to start." He looked around, and right before he was to turn around, you perked up.

        "Well. Maybe the fact that Lucifer and Mammon are here to?"

        "What."

        And with that, he started to fume, his head going into his hands as he mumbled angrily at the table- starting to string everything together, going from just the two brothers to how they do things that annoy him, to the rest of the brothers. Before you knew it he was yelling about everything and more- grabbing the water and plates and throwing them on the tables, slamming his hands onto the table before you and breaking it before flipping the other ones next to him, stomping on the shattered remains.

        You watched in awe, honestly even with all this anger emanating from his body, he was still a beautiful creature to behold, so while you continued to sip on your [ Tea/Coffee/Hot Cocoa ] and the waitress brought more items with a look that screamed 'This is kinda new, but hey, it's kinda fun to watch.', Satan continued a controlled rampage on the poor sugar plates and tables around him.

        The owner at the counter looked over at you, shooting him a small smile and a nod, he did the same while watching some other customers around the cafe.         

        "Are you fucking kidding me? I should have gotten credit for the goddamned note card thing! I should wring him by the neck with my thumbs in his sockets-" It went like this for a while, the continued shattering of fake glass and his screams of anger went to deaf ears around him, though you kept your eye on him so he knew that you were listening to him release his rage.

        An hour and a half later, hundreds of "glasses" broken, three shattered tables, about seven limp chairs, and said broken pieces being impaled into the walls around you two. He was panting lightly, his hand shaking as it settled on your chair while he bent over, his face in your neck like it was this morning. His heart was racing and small amounts of his horns starting to poke out from his hair, which you covered with your hands to make it look like you were rubbing his head, before he stood up to his full height with a sigh.

        "That... that was... good." He was breathing deeply now, and his words were becoming much more clear, he looked like he was lighter in general- all the weight he had carried left him in these moments.

        "Good?" You laughed lightly, before rubbing his back with one hand as the other went to your purse, you both walked to the counter to pay for everything. Satan looked to where Lucifer and Mammon sat at, seeing the area soaked with water and having the area around them broken, safely assuming that even they had their fill which made an evident smirk cross his face.

        "That will be 346.85." He owner announced in a bored manner. Your face paled in shock, a tight smile on your face, eyes wide at the number.

        "Is that the miscalculation thing you usually do?"

        "Nah, we decided to give you a break, your man seemed to be having a rough time so... yeah."

        "Thanks." You pulled your card out, and handed it to him, before thanking him for everything and apologizing for the extra damage.

        As the both of you left to the car, Satan had a please smile on his face, his hand in yours as he leaned on you slightly- his more playful side coming to light, this was usual after he released his anger, not that you minded. You were happy for these moments with him, though you had to push him off you to get back into the car, he buckled in before his eyes met yours.

        "What?"

        "Hm. Nothing." He voiced out playfully. You pulled out of the space and went to your way back home, deciding to enjoy the back roads and their scenery, also trying to take a longer way back home to spend more time with the demon.

        "I just love you is all."

        "SATAN."

[petersasteria]

Younger (I) - Holland!Reader

Back at it again with a theme

Inspired by: Younger by Ruel

The prequel of this will be coming out soon x

Holland!Reader Masterlist || TH Masterlist || HH Masterlist

Rich kid AU

* * * *

"Deep in my heart I know that it's over Deleted your number, so I can't call you Call you my brother, the way that we used to When we were younger, younger"

Grief does a lot of things to a person. It also hits different for everyone depending on who died and depending on how close these people were to the one who met their untimely demise. In this case, the Holland family were the most affected with grief. The Holland children's grandfather died and they were terribly heartbroken. But the most heartbroken one of all was Nikki and Dominic Holland's only daughter, Y/N.

Y/N was close to her grandfather only because she was the only daughter and because of that, she was the favorite. Her brothers didn't mind, though. However, it did bother Sam and Harry only because they were triplets.

Y/N had been living in Paris for quite some time now, four years to be precise, and she hasn't been in contact with her siblings since she left London to follow the man she loved; truly loved. She hated the way she left her situation with her siblings, most especially Tom.

"Timmy, are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Y/N asked the love of her life. Timmy was a tall and lanky lad who had beautiful curls and beautiful green eyes.

Timmy gave her a soft smile and lightly nodded his head, "I'm sure. Y/N, your brothers hate me with a passion. You haven't spoken to them for four years. I think you should go there to grieve and make things right with your brothers. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for your grandfather. I'm sure he would want that."

"Fine, I will." Y/N sighed. "I'll come back soon, okay?"

Timmy only nodded and went back to his painting. They lived in a small apartment in Paris. It was the only one they could afford. Y/N could've bought a larger apartment for both of them, but she came to Paris with only little money in her pocket.

Timmy was a painter and he sold his paintings to anyone who commissioned him. He has been saving up for Paris ever since he was little. Y/N supported him all the time, especially when Timmy hasn't been getting commissioned. Whenever that happened, Timmy took up painting jobs. If he were lucky, sometimes a rich client would hire him to paint a nursery or the master's bedroom and then he'd be paid a generous amount.

Y/N got a job at a bakery and it helped pay the bills. It wasn't the life Y/N pictured for herself, but this was better and more real and more down to earth. She preferred waking up next to the man she loved rather than waking up to a rich man who was betrothed to her all for business purposes.

A few days later, Y/N left Paris to go to London just in time for the funeral. Y/N may not be in touch with her siblings, but she was in touch with her mother. After all, a mother could not bare to not speak to their child. Nikki was the one who told Y/N about her grandfather's passing. It was a heartbreaking call for both of them; Y/N was heartbroken when she was told the bad news and Nikki was heartbroken when she told Y/N and when she heard her daughter's cries. Nikki wished nothing but to hold her and tell her that everything will be okay, but she couldn't.

All eyes were on Y/N when she arrived in the funeral. Her parents were the first to hug her tightly with Paddy following. He missed his older sister dearly. Y/N cried when she saw her youngest brother and their parents left them alone to have a moment.

"You've grown so much!" Y/N cried as she pulled away to get a good look at the youngest Holland. Paddy smiled, "Yeah, it's been four years. I'm twenty now."

Y/N wiped her tears away, "I can't believe I missed so much, but I'm here now."

"Does that mean you'll stay for good?" Paddy asked. He was hopeful. His sister was his anchor and she knew him better than anyone else.

Y/N frowned and shook her head, "I'm sorry."

"Of course, she won't stay. Don't be so surprised, Paddy. It's not like she actually stayed last time." A voice interrupted. The pair turned their head to see Tom who was bitterly looking at Y/N, up and down.

"Hello, Thomas." Y/N said politely. "I've missed you."

"Well, I haven't." Tom said bitterly. His words were venomous. "You left, remember? You had no intention on coming back and I've accepted that already and it's time for Paddy to accept that too."

"But Tom-" Paddy said. Tom quickly turned to him and shook his head, "Paddy, you shouldn't have this wishful thinking of Y/N coming back. She's only here for the funeral and then she'll leave again to go back to her poor lover."

Paddy shut his mouth and walked away. Tom's words hurt his feelings and he didn't want to say anything he'd regret, so he decided to be the bigger person and left.

"We could've had everything, Y/N. You're so selfish!" Tom spat and crossed his arms. Y/N didn't say anything as she stood there in front of her older brother.

"Sam, would you look at that. It's our triplet." Harry said when he approached Y/N with Sam. "Hello, Y/N. I hope Paris has been treating you good."

"Hello, Harry. Yes, it's been treating me good. I work at a bakery." Y/N said proudly.

"Bakery?" Sam chortled. "Linda worked at a bakery before she became our maid. Besides, you don't even know how to bake. Last time I checked, you nearly burnt the kitchen down."

"I learned, Sam. I learned." Y/N said. "I know working at a bakery isn't what I'm supposed to be doing, but it's honest work and it kind of pays well."

"Pays well? What, your boyfriend can't pay for you?" Harry joked.

"Harry, what do you expect? Timmy's poor. He could never give Y/N a wonderful life like our parents pictured her to have." Tom rolled his eyes.

"It's not the life I pictured either." Y/N told them. Tom opened his mouth to talk but he got cut off by Y/N, "But it's a humble and simple life and I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. All of you would understand that if you're in love. Other things don't matter anymore because at the end of the day, it'll just be me and him in Paris as we start a life together. That's the dream, isn't it?"

Harry looked down and Sam dismissed it, "Maybe you're right, but maybe you're wrong. Maybe that's your dream. Don't generalize it. Let's go, Harry. It's clear that Tom and Y/N need to speak with each other." Just like that, Sam left.

Harry stayed put and walked towards Y/N as he put a hand on her shoulder with a small smile on his face, "It's good to see you, though. Even if it's just for a while." Harry quickly left after that.

Tom looked at Y/N and said, "We'll talk after the ceremony." He left and Y/N sighed. The ceremony quickly started after that. The Holland patriarch said a few words followed by Y/N as said on one of the death wishes of grandpa Holland.

Y/N cleared her throat, "I, uh, I didn't know that I was going to speak up here so, I'll just talk from the heart." She made eye contact with her mother and Nikki just smiled and nodded for her to continue.

"Being the only daughter of my family, I was immediately the closest to my grandfather. Though, he would say that he loved us equally, everyone knew that he loved me most. I asked him about it one day and he told me, 'Your grandmother loves Tom, Sam, Harry, and Paddy. She loves you too, but she loves the boys more and we both know that's no secret. When one of the boys are in trouble with your parents, she'd be there for them. Y/N, I want to be the one who's there for you. Someone has to look out for the only girl and it would be an honor for me to be able to do that' ."

"And he did. He looked out for me when no one else would and our bond was pretty strong. He loved me when I thought no one else did. He was my shoulder to cry on and he was my hero. From taking out a spider from my room to helping me through my first heartbreak, he was there to save me. It's just sad because my number one hero is gone now and no one else will be there for me anymore. My brothers still have grandma and I'm left with no one." Y/N's breath hitched and she quickly covered it up.

"Grandpa was a loving man. He loved people and he saw the good in people even when they were mean. He taught me that life was too short to hate and I guess that's why he spent his whole life giving love and spreading love. I remember a lot of things that showed him being so loving."

"He loved my brother, Harry. He was his second favorite." Y/N chuckled lightly. "But when Harry used grandpa's credit card to buy something online, I thought he'd love Harry less." She and Harry made eye contact. Harry didn't know about that side of the story. Heck, he didn't even remember the story until Y/N mentioned it.

"But I was wrong. If anything, he loved Harry even more if that was possible. I asked him why and grandpa told me these wise words that I'll never forget. He said, 'Y/N, when you love someone, you love them with everything in your heart. Loving someone is sticking through the good times and loving them even more during the bad times because during the bad times, people need someone who love them unconditionally. When people feel bad about themselves, usually all they need is love'. I guess that's why he had it in his heart to just shrug off what Harry did because Harry felt bad about what he did."

"And as I stand here in front of all you, I want to tell you that from now on, I'll live the rest of my life like my grandfather; I want to give and spread love. I also want to say that I would like to have a man in my life like how grandpa was when he was still here and I'm confident to announce that I already found that man." Y/N smiled at the end.  She looked at her grandfather's closed coffin and sighed, "I'll miss you, grandpa."

A few moments later, he was buried. Far from everyone, there stood Tom and Y/N. Y/N stared at her brother as he puffed out smoke from his mouth before taking another hit from the cancer on a stick.

"Since when did you start smoking?" She asked quietly. Tom glanced at her and shrugged. He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it to put it out. "Since when did you care?" He asked.

"I've always cared. You're my brother and we'll always be related whether you like it or not." Y/N said as Tom nodded, "Let's talk. Where did we stop?"

"You told me I was selfish before Sam and Harry interrupted us." She reminded.

"Ahh, yes." Tom said and turned to face her. "You're selfish."

"How was I selfish?" Y/N asked.

"You should've just married him and then we would've made the deal." Tom sighed disappointingly.

"But I didn't love him and I still don't and I never will because I love Timmy. If you can't accept that, then fine. Timmy and I don't need validation from anyone especially from you." Y/N argued.

"I'm still the eldest, Y/N and anything I say, goes." Tom said sternly.

"Yeah and you're my brother." Y/N said as tears streamed down her face. "You were supposed to have my back just like I have yours. You're the selfish one, not me! Did I ever really matter to you, Tom?"

"Are you crazy? Of course you mattered to me! You're my baby sister and you always will be." Tom shrieked.

"If I mattered to you like you said you did, why are you so mad at me? Why are you so mad at Timmy, huh? He's done nothing wrong! He's a good guy and yes, he's struggling financially but I don't care. I don't care one bit and if I don't care, why do you?" Y/N sniffed and wiped her tears.

"Because I want what's best for you! For all we know, it's all just an act and he's only with you for money or sex. Haven't you ever thought of that?!" Tom raised his voice.

"No-"

"Well, tough luck because I have!" Tom shouted. "Since you met him, all I've been thinking about is your safety and if he's not using you!"

"Is that how low you think of Timmy?!" Y/N challenged. "Scratch that, is that how low you think of people who don't have the same lifestyle as you?! Because if it is, change it, Thomas. It's not good because believe it or not, not everyone in this world is after your fucking money!"

"Hey, that's enough!" Harry shouted as Sam and Paddy jogged towards them. "Mum told me to come get both of you because lunch will be served at home. But now that I'm here, I can see that both of you aren't ready to get your shit together so that we can have one decent family meal!" Harry yelled angrily. He was sick and tired of Tom being so bitter and shady all the time when Y/N was away.

"See what you've done, Y/N?! Our family's messed up because of you!" Tom spat.

"Don't go blaming this on her, twat!" Sam declared. "You're the one who can't let go of things!"

"Sam, may I remind you that I've arranged for her to marry so that we could have that partnership?! It would've made us more successful and wealthier! But she chose to follow that poor excuse of a man to Paris and she fucking stayed there! He probably doesn't even love her! He's probably in it for the money!" Tom's words were full of poison and venom. All the anger he had was now flowing non-stop. He had to take deep breaths as everyone stayed silent. The tension was thick.

"What if they're in love with each other?" Paddy interrupted. Tom scoffed, "Pads, that's preposterous!"

Paddy looked at the eldest Holland boy and nodded, "Ahh, you haven't thought about it, I see. If they're genuinely in love with each other and if they're not hurting anyone, there's nothing wrong with that."

"What do you fucking mean?" Tom questioned.

"I'm saying, Y/N's a grown woman. Just let her be. If she's happy with Timmy, then let her be happy." Paddy explained.

"She said that about Peter and where did that get her?" Tom fumed. "Absolutely nowhere! She said that she loved him and that she was so sure that she and Peter were destined to be together. And what happened next?"

"He left her for someone else." Sam interjected.

Tom pointed at Sam and said, "Exactly! He left her for someone else."

"Yeah, Peter did that." Paddy nodded. "But this is Timmy we're talking about. Peter and Timmy are different guys."

"Are you saying that we should just allow Y/N to do something she hasn't thoroughly thought of? She went and fucking followed him to Paris with no plan at all!" Tom argued.

"Not everything should be planned and thought of." Harry interrupted. He looked at Y/N and smiled a bit, "What she did was spontaneous and grandpa would love that because she did it for love."

"So, she should just forget our family, is that what you're saying?" Tom berated as he stared at his younger siblings.

Sam stared at Tom and shrugged, "You said that, not us. All we're saying is that we should just let her be. She's not a kid anymore. She can think for herself and if she thinks that being with Timmy in Paris is right for her, then she should follow it especially if it makes her happy."

Y/N's heart swelled at Sam's words. She didn't expect him to say that.

"We'll leave you two alone now." Sam said before walking away with Harry. Paddy looked between Tom and Y/N and sighed, "Fix this." Paddy left too.

Tom and Y/N stood in silence for a while until Tom started to talk, "I'm sorry."

She looked at him in shock. Tom has never really apologized before because of his pride, so this was a new experience for him. Tom squeezed his eyes shut as he inhaled the fresh air through his nose and exhaled through his mouth.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, "I don't usually say sorry, but here I am apologizing. Like I said earlier, I'm the eldest and by default, it's my job to look after all four of you and it'll be my job for the rest of my life until my last breath. So, excuse me for being really overprotective. You're our only sister. Mum and dad would kill me if anything happened to you because out of all four of you, I should pay attention to you most. That's why I'm always in your business. I want to make you're not making a stupid and big mistake because if you do make a stupid and big mistake without my knowledge, mum and dad wouldn't get mad at you. They'd be mad at me for not doing my job."

"I'm sorry I said that Timmy was a poor excuse of a man. That was below the belt. I just don't like Timmy for you." Tom confessed. "I know that's not a valid reason, but I'll try my best to get to know him, so  that I can see why you like him so much. I just hope it's not too late and I know that I have so many to make up for, I just don't know where to begin."

Y/N stared at him before pulling him into a hug, "I meant what I said back there. I want to live the rest of my life like grandpa. So, I forgive you and for the record, you already began by saying sorry."

She pulled away and smiled at him, "Tom, I love you."

"You do?" Tom cried. "After all the harsh things I said?"

"You're my brother and my love for you will always be constant. I loved you before and I love you now. I also loved you during the those four years, I especially loved you then." She told him.

"I love you too, more than I love myself, actually." Tom smiled and wiped his tears.

"Good." Y/N chuckled. "So, lunch?"

Tom nodded, "Lunch. I'm starving."

The pair walked back to their family and they felt at ease knowing that everything will be alright now. Y/N forgave him a long time ago and now it was time for Tom to forgive himself just like how Y/N forgave him.

Grief does a lot of things to a person. Sometimes, grief can be a bridge to connect two people and replace the old bridge that was burned. Y/N may have lost her closest family member, but she gained back her relationship with Tom. After all, when one person leaves us, another one will arrive.

* * * *

I can't wait to write the prequel of this

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland @poguesholland @superheroesaremytea @marshxx @buckys-little-hoe @harryismysunflower @itstaskeen @hollandsrecs @ilarbu @slytherin-chaser @quaksonhehe @lil-mellow-bunbun @turtoix @badreputationlove @swiftmind

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @sufwubi @abrielleholland @osterfieldnholland @purplepizza-summerrain @euphorichxlland @marshxx @lizzyosterfield @itstaskeen @ilarbu

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @perspectiveparker @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @chloecreatesfictions @holland-styles @halfblood-princess-505 @spidey-reids-2003 @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual (thanks for helping me sis uwu)