#i woke up at 6 and cleaned my apartment before i had coffee

[superfluouskeys]

suddenly not having depression brain is literally so weird im like i have desires? interests?? goals??? hopes AND dreams?????

[acewritesfics]

Never Been So Scared | Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: No.

Warnings: General Chicago PD warnings. Gunman, mentions of death and stillbirth. Dad!Jay. Featuring Will. The daughter’s name is Cora. 

 Word Count: 2,498

Jay Halstead Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N had just finished brewing the coffee when Jay came up behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and leaving a kiss on her almost bare shoulder. 

“Good morning,” she smiles leaning into him as she poured the coffee into a mug, makes it how he likes it and turns around to hand it to him. 

“Good morning,” he kisses her softly before he takes a sip of his coffee. He’s already dressed in a pair of jeans, and a navy blue henley. His coat is hanging off the back of his chair and he’s missing his gun and badge which he doesn’t put on until he’s about to walk out the door. “Is Cora still asleep?” He asks as he sits at the table, having time this morning to sit down and eat breakfast. 

“She woke up quite a few times during the night,” Y/N sighs as she finishes making breakfast. Cora, their 6 month old daughter, has just started teething and the poor baby is having a miserable time with it. “Hopefully, she’ll sleep long enough to let me have a shower and get ready to take her to doctor’s appointment.” 

“I could call in sick, if you need me too,” He offers. “I can take her to her appointment and you can get some sleep or relax for a little bit.” 

“As wonderful as that sounds, Hank needs you too,” she smiles sweetly, letting him know that his offer is appreciated but not needed. “You know that team isn’t complete without you,” she adds kissing the top of his head as she places some food in front of him. 

“I have the most wonderful, amazing and incredible wife in the world,” he says wrapping an arm around her waist to stop her from walking away. He smiles up at her, looking at her with some much love and adoration. “She just happens to also be the most wonderful, amazing and incredible mom in the world too.” 

“Well honestly, I’m just winging this whole wife and mother thing,” she jokes as she lifts a hand and runs it though his hair. “It does help that I am married and have a baby to the most wonderful, amazing, and incredible man who just so happens to be the hottest guy I know.” 

“You think I’m hot?” He smirks. 

“I know you’re hot,” she confirms as she leans down and kisses him. 

Hearing their daughter’s cry, she pulls away from him and goes to attend to her. Jay stops her and stands up from his seat, “I’ve got her, baby.” 

He pecks her lips and moves past her to go into Cora’s nursery room. Cora’s cries begin to ease as her dad starts talking to her. Y/N smile as she takes Jay’s seat, stealing a piece of bacon off his plate as she listens to him coo at their daughter. 

After a few minutes, Jay comes out of their daughter’s room holding her. She’d been changed into the clothes Y/N had gotten out for her as she got everything ready in her morning routine. “Look there’s mama, stealing daddy’s breakfast.” 

“Daddy did leave it unattended,” she smiles and holds her hands out for Cora. Jay hands her to Y/N as they switch places so she can feed her while he finishes his breakfast before he has to leave. 

Once everyone is fed and everything is cleaned up, Jay grabs his gun and badge and clips them on to his jeans. He makes his way over to Y/N and kisses the top of Cora’s head before kissing Y/N on the lips. 

“I should be home for dinner,” he tells her. “I love you,” he says kissing her one more time. 

“I love you, too!” she calls out as he leaves the apartment. 

-

“My goodness, she’s getting so big!” Maggie coos as she spots Y/N walking into the emergency department, holding Cora. 

They’d just been to Cora’s six month check up. On their way out of the hospital, Y/N decides to stop by the emergency department to see Will while he’s on one of his breaks. 

“She was six months old yesterday,” Y/N smiles. “We were just on our way out from paediatrics.” 

“How is she doing?” the charge nurse asks. Maggie had been one of the nurses on shift when she came into the emergency room after going into labor two months early. 

“Cora’s hitting all her milestones a lot sooner than her doctor expected. She says for a premie baby she’s doing amazing,” Y/N smiles, happily. 

Cora had a rough time coming into the world but now, even though she’s slightly smaller than the average six month old baby, she’s happy and healthy. That’s all Y/N and Jay wanted for their baby girl - to be healthy, happy and thriving. 

“That’s great news, Y/N. I’m sure you and Jay are relieved,” Maggie smiles. 

“So relieved,” she smiles, looking at her daughter, noticing she’s fallen asleep. “I would offer you a cuddle but she’s gone back to sleep.” 

“I should get back to work,” Maggie sighs disappointedly. She would like nothing more than to have baby cuddles. “I’ll get Will for you. It’s coming up to his lunch break.” 

Y/N thanks her and takes a seat in the waiting area as Maggie goes behind the nurses station to call Will. 

As she waits for Will, Y/N makes sure Cora is comfortable in her stroller and isn’t over heating. Because of her teething, Cora’s temperature is a little higher than normal. Her doctor did give her some pain relief that should help with her slight fever as well as the pain from her teeth cutting through her gums. 

“Damn, is she asleep?” her brother-in-law’s voice comes from beside her as he looks into the stroller at his niece. 

“You just missed her,” Y/N chuckles. “You should come for dinner. You can get all the cuddles then.” 

Even at six months old, Cora has an amazing bond with her only uncle. If Will is around, she settles for him when Y/N and Jay are unable to get her settled. He always gets her to smile and giggle, and she always gets excited when she seems him. Y/N can tell they’re going to be close as Cora gets older. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” he smiles. “How’d her app-” he’s cut off by angry shouting at the reception desk. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her as he stands back up and makes his way over to the angry man and the frightened receptionist. 

Y/N looks back at Cora, still fast asleep. The man shouting surprisingly wasn’t disturbing her from her sleep. “Uncle Will’s gone to play hero. One thing you should know about your daddy and uncle, is that they love playing hero.” 

The shouting soon escalated and Y/N decides to get Cora out of there before it wakes her up but she freezes on the spot when a gunshot rings through the emergency room waiting area. She’s crouched over the stroller, protecting Cora with her back to the gunman. Cora is now awake and screaming. 

Everyone panicking around her is is a distant noise as her focus is mostly on protecting her daughter. She remembers Will is also there and looks behind her finding him who’s sitting on the ground, holding his arm. 

“Will!” she calls out him. 

“I’m okay,” he tells her. “It’s just a flesh wound. Focus on keeping Cora safe, okay?” 

She nods, turning back to her daughter as she hears the gunman yell something about shutting up the baby before he does it himself. Panicking even more, she shakily unbuckles Cora from her stroller and picks her up. Terrified, she starts to do everything she can to get Cora to settle. It takes a few minutes, but she finally settles, her cries turning to whimpers as she surprisingly starts settling. The gunman takes to pacing the floor back and forth, muttering to himself. 

Until Y/N’s phone starts ringing, disrupting the heavy silence that’s fallen over the room. He grabs the person closest to him, placing his arm around her neck and holding the gun to her head and Cora starts crying again. 

Panicking even more, she tries to settle Cora again but this time it’s not working. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whimpers through her tears willing Cora to stop crying. Her phone stops ringing and Cora’s cries get louder. 

Y/N catches the end of Will talking to the gunman, “let me help settle my niece if you’re not going to let them go.” 

“Fine but no funny business,” he orders Will over the shoulder of the person he has taken captive. 

Will nods and stands up, moving towards Y/N with the gunman’s gun trailing him. The doctor sits down next to his sister-in-law, takes his niece and starts rocking her back and forth. 

Just like every other time, Cora falls back asleep. She’s a little relieved when Will manages to get her to settle back down but the panic returns when her phone rings again. 

“End that call!” the gunman yells, his hold on the person loosening as he aims the gun towards Y/N. 

Shaking and trying to hold back her sobs she reaches into her pocket to pull out her phone. Holding it she sees that it’s Jay who’s calling. She tilts her phone showing Will. He looks from her to the phone and gives her a slight nod. She presses the end call button only for her phone to start ringing again a second later. 

Frustrated the man starts stomping towards Y/N only for Will to hand Cora back to her stand between them. “It’s her husband who’s calling her, just let her talk to him and let him know that her and the baby are okay.” 

“Turn off your phone,” the man tells her. 

Y/N presses the accept call button, instead of turning off her phone. She places her phone face down on her lap so he can’t see that it’s still on. 

-

Outside, Jay, who’s never felt so scared in his life, is panicking with his phone to his ear, hearing what's happening inside the waiting room. He knew he should have taken the day off to be with them and taken Cora to her appointment himself. It was taking all his self control to not burst in there to get his wife, daughter and brother out of there. 

“She can’t turn it off,” he hears Will say, “Her husband, my brother, he’s a detective with the Intelligence Unit down at 51. He can help you get whatever you want. Just let her talk to him.” 

“What I want?” the man screams. “What I want I can’t have. My wife and son are gone because the people here couldn’t save them!” 

“Have you got through to her?” Hank asks walking up to him, knowing he was trying to get in contact with Y/N to find out if she was still in the hospital. 

Jay nods and moves his phone from his ear and puts it on speaker. “I think it’s the gunman, he said he lost his wife and son here.” 

Hank calls over Adam and tells him to look into recent deaths of a mother and son at the hospital and to get back to him with what he can find. 

“How-how long were you married?” Y/N’s shaky voice comes through the speaker. 

“Why does that matter?” he scoffs, his voice not hiding the pain he’s feeling. 

“It should matter, she, she was the love of your life, right?” she asks. 

“Of course she was,” he spits out angrily before his voice turns soft. “We were married 10 years.” 

“My husband and I have been married for five years.” 

“Still in the honeymoon phase then,” the man says. 

“She’s trying to get him to talk,” Jay says, knowing right away what she’s doing but it didn’t ease his worry. Being married to a detective was coming in handy right now. 

-

“How old was your son?” Y/N continues to keep him talking, she can only guess he just wants someone to talk to, someone who will listen. 

“He was six,” he cries. “and the sweetest boy you’d ever meet.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she says looking up at him with sympathy. “No person should lose their spouse and child well before their time.” 

“Your husband, if he lost you and your daughter, what would he do?” he asks her, surprising her a little. 

“I don’t know what he would do,” she tells him truthfully. “When we lost our baby, he threw himself into work, we hardly spoke, he barely touched me.” 

“You’ve lost a child?” he asks, his shoulders slumping. 

“Our first baby, three years ago,” she tells him. “A boy. He hadn’t even been born yet.” 

“Oh, God,” the man sighs, his lips trembling. 

“Not a day goes by when I think of him,” she admits. “Do you think about your son?” 

“Every day,” The man nods his head. As if he’s realized his actions, he breaks down into tears, dropping the gun and slides down the wall. “Oh, God. They’ll be so disappointed with me.” 

“No they won’t,” Y/N tries to assure him as one of the receptionists hurries over and picks up the gun before the gunman can change his mind. “They know you’re hurting and people don’t think clearly when they are hurting.” 

She jumps slightly as the doors open and a group of swat members come in and arrest the man. 

She drops her phone and takes Cora from Will, hugging her close and never wanting to let her go again. Hearing her name being called, she looks up and sees Jay rushing towards her. The moment she falls into his arms she bursts into tears and holds him tightly. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he repeats, assuring her. “I’ve got you, the both of you.” 

-

Hank had given Jay the rest of the week off so he could be with Y/N and Cora. While Y/N wouldn’t let Cora out of her sight, Jay wouldn’t let both his girls outs of his. They had spent the last two days at their apartment shut away from the rest of the world. 

Today Jay thought it would be a good day to take his little family out for a few hours. After stopping by their favourite pizza joint, Jay drove them to a place they hadn’t been to in a while. 

“You heard me talking about him,” Y/N says looking out towards the rows of headstones and flowers. 

“Yeah, I did,” he admits. Until now he hadn’t been sure if he should bring it up. “I think it’s time Cora meets her big brother.” 

“I think so too,” She smiles sadly looking back at her husband, saddened that this is the way Cora is going to know her older brother. She leans forward and softly kisses him. “I love you.” 

Jay smiles, “I love you too, babe.” 

[heluvschibi]

The Apocalypse: Intro...

>> next🧟

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⚠️blood, mentions of su!c!de, jump scare? Cussing, mini panic attack(s)? (I think that's all, tell me if there is more.)

📄Please note that this is my first time writing anything zombie, horror, thriller, or apocalypse related.

👤I think the intro is pretty good. If you like it, please repost or like it. I kinda got writers block in the middle...sry

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Des:Living in my small apartment when the apocalypse started is not ideal, now I'm running low on food and water a necessary need for a living human... I have to leave...

words:1.2k

Y/n's POV

Chirp chirp chirp...

I woke up to the sound of birds, it almost felt normal until I actually opened my eyes, old newspapers and tape blocking the window, my room a complete mess. I stood up and stretched before walking to the mirror that had a crack on the top left. And as expected I don't look very presentable; my hair was tied in a ponytail with loose hairs here and there. I was wearing my favorite grey sweatpants and my black hoodie. I just decided to re do my ponytail before walking out to the shared kitchen and living room, this place was so clean. So clean to the point where if you even swiped your finger on the top of any surface, there would be no dust. But now my once clean-living space is now a mess, a show of neglect of how my life has been since the apocalypse started.

I strolled into the kitchen and opened up the upper cabinet to the left of my fridge: 1 packet of ramen, 1 cookie that was in a zip lock baggie, and 1 can of tomato soup...

I decided for my breakfast a tasty bowl of ramen, surprisingly after 2 months the gas wasn't turned off, but it's only a matter of time until... Click, click, click...

"Fire?" I turned the knob on the gas stove again, click, click, click...

"What the fuck-!" I covered my mouth. Stupid, stupid! Did I really forget that there are hungry zombies probably just chilling, waiting right now outside of my door?

I walked to the door and looked into the peep hole, I only saw the apartment a crossed from mines, the door closed with blood on the door, floors, and by the wall. I silently walked away, when a bang and a growling was heard, I jumped back falling on my butt, I let out a squeal and the banging continued, I started to sob silent, the door shaking from the impact of the zombie on the other side, I hurried and stood up wiping my tear and rushing to the door leaning all my weight on it...

6 minutes later...

The banging finally stopped, only low groaning and growls were heard, I slid to the floor shaking, I pulled my legs up to my face and hid them.

I wasn't made for this...

My stomach started to hurt before a weird grr noise, I stood up and rubbed my stomach with a frown.

I continue what I was doing before the situations just 6 minuets ago, I walked to the small coffee table and squatted down, pulling on one of the drawers when I found a box of matches. There was only 10 left, I took one of the red tipped matches out of the box and walked to the stove to light it.

I got one of the bottled waters from the closet and carefully poured the water into the small pot to let it boil.

I turned around and walked to the big window plastered with newspapers and tape, I peeled back on of the newspapers and peered through. I live on the 4th floor of this apartment unit. I peered down at the parking lot below, just two months ago these cars were all clean, parked perfectly. But now some cars had broken windows, blood smeared on some parts of the cars, or car doors open slightly. As zombies roaming around aimlessly, I noticed one of the zombies. An old man, he lived next to me, Mr. Kim.

I remember the first week here in Korea Mr. Kim and his wife made me so much food to the point my fridge was overflowing. I had to practically beg them to stop sending food, that my poor fridge couldn't hold all the food they were sending at one time. When they stopped sending food they started talking to me about their grandson Kim Seung Min and how he's single...I never met him myself, but they showed me pictures of him, I was flattered that they think I wanted to marry someone, flattered that they think I'm worth of marrying their grandson. I smiled remembering the happy times. Before this outbreak, disease, Z-B232, whatever you want to call it spread. Mr. Kim's screams and pleas of help still stuck in my head, playing on loop like a broken record, I covered my mouth and started crying. I could've done something...I should've done something, yet...I didn't I was curled up in a ball on my bed crying, praying that this would all stop, that this was all just a nightmare...

sss...

I turned around and the water was boiling over.

"Crap!" I whispered yelled, rushing through the living room to get to the kitchen stove and turned the nob to off.

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After cooking and eating the ramen, I stood up and took the dirty pot into the sink, tried to at least the sink is somewhat overflowing with dirty dishes, I let out a sigh.

"Why did the water have to stop working..."

I dragged my feet to the closet and peered down at where the water was supposed to be, but it wasn't there...

Oh no, did I use the last water...on RAMEN!?

I stood there looking down at the empty spot where the waters were supposed to be...

"No, no, no..." I stumbled back covering my face. "No..."

"I can't survive without water...I'll end up dying. How long is it...3 days without water, 21 days without food?"

Why live if we're all going to die someday, and I'm going to die in my dirty apartment, by thirst and starvation...

My eyes started to fill with tears, "Stop, stop crying!" I covered my face, wiping my tears.

I cranked my head and looked up at the ceiling fan, in the middle of the living room.

"Should I..." I mumbled out, turning my head back to the closet, a red rope. "It's the last resort...right?"

I reached put out a hand to reach the red rope and stopped.

"No... I'm not going to end myself like this..." I stood up.

"Don't get all depressed on me now Y/n, I need you for this journey..." I spoke. to myself.

I'm going to live through this outbreak... But my first priority on the list... Supplies...

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"Okay, this is it."

Flashlight, batteries, first aid, pocketknife, rope, black sharpie, can of soup, and the cookie.

I walked to my bedroom, going through everything, I looked through my closet, knowing something has to be in here, like the baseball bat my dad gave me for my 10th birthday, or the golf putt one of my co-workers gave me.

And I found the golf putt, score for Y/n!

I grabbed one of my blankets and folded it.

I zipped up the thick jacket I was wearing and changed my grey sweatpants to jeans. I put on my shoes and put both straps of the backpack over my shoulder before walking to the door, I looked out the peep hole, to make sure I'm clear, my golf putt in hand.

I opened the door a little and peered out, looking left and right. I walked fully out of my apartment, a scared and thrilling chill went down my spine, I'm now not protected by the steel locked door or my walls anymore...

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??? POV

"Guy's me and Jeongin are going out, listen to Minho while I'm gone..."-Chris.

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I was so scared to post this...

Please don't be bad 🙏🏽😭

Have a good day/afternoon/night! -Chibi

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Tag list 🏷

@loumin908

[thesapphictimelady]

Ad Astra Per Aspera Chapter 6

Word Count: 700

TW: implied domestic and verbal abuse

A/N: Ugh, this took me way too long to get written!! I hope you enjoy it, and I’ll start working on a longer chapter ASAP! (In the words of Mister Johnson, this is trash 😂)

When Cassie woke the next morning, she noticed two things. One, the bed was empty. And two, someone was shouting in Italian from downstairs. She groaned softly and threw the blankets back, swinging her legs out of bed and following the smell of coffee down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Non tornerà in quel posto! Me ne occuperò io, con o senza il tuo aiuto. Oh vaffanculo anche a te, è davvero carino da dire. Cosa direbbe la Nonna se ti sentisse dire una cosa del genere?” (She won't go back to that place! I'll take care of it, with or without your help. Oh fuck you too, that's really nice to say. What would grandma say if she heard you say something like that?)

Melissa slammed her phone down on the counter and raked her fingers through her hair, grumbling under her breath.

Cassie cleared her throat and the redhead whirled around.

“Hey! I didn’t hear you come down. Lemme get you some coffee.”

“What was that all about?” Cassie asked, pulling out one of the barstools and sitting down.

“Ya know how family is,” Melissa said vaguely, handing her a mug of coffee, “How’d’ya sleep?”

“Fine,” Cassie said, sipping her coffee, “Do I smell rubbing alcohol?”

“Yeah, I’m just cleaning my bats,” Melissa said, gesturing at the sink behind her.

Cassie sat up a little straighter, “Melissa, why do you have…5 baseball bats?”

“I actually have 6,”

“Okay, then why do you have 6 baseball bats?”

Melissa shrugged, “Never know when you’ll need a baseball bat. Barb called this morning, she wants to know if we’ll come over for brunch. I told her I’d ask when you woke up.”

Cassie stared down at her coffee, “She knows everything, doesn’t she.”

“She doesn’t know what happened last night,” Melissa said, sitting down across from the younger woman, “And it’ll stay that way as long as you want it to. But you and I…we need to talk about what happened. You can’t just deflect with jokes about your security deposit. Which you ain’t gettin back by the way.”

Cassie snorted, “Yeah, I knew that deposit wasn’t coming back.”

“She destroyed your apartment and, more importantly, made you feel unsafe. Cassiopeia, I can only help you if you let me.” Melissa reached across the table to grasp Cassie’s hand, “You have to let me in so I can help you.”

“I-I don’t know how,” Cassie said softly, not meeting Melissa’s eyes, “I’m afraid of letting people get too close.”

“Kid, nothing you say could scare me off. But we can wait until you’re ready to talk about this. Now, can I tell Barb yes?”

Cassie sniffled and wiped her eyes, nodding, “Yeah, let me get dressed.”

“I’ll let her know we’ll be over soon,” Melissa picked her phone up to text her best friend and then paused, “Hey, kid, maybe a little less concealer this time. You don’t want to look sick today.”

Cassie laughed weakly and agreed before heading upstairs to get dressed, leaving the redhead to finish washing her bats.

Cassiopeia pulled out a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt from her duffel bag, braided her hair back and had just started putting on concealer when Melissa’s voice drifted up the stairs.

“Yes, we’re coming over Barb. Cassie is getting dressed. No. Yes, everything is fine. Barb…no, Barb listen…yes, she’s staying with me. Yes, she’s safe. Barb…no, she’s okay. I gotta finish these bats, we’ll be over soon. Okay…okay, yeah, love you too. Bye.”

There’s a soft knock on the door to the guest room, making Cassie drop her concealer. Melissa cracks the door open.

“Sorry kid, didn’t mean to scare ya. Wanted to bring your coffee up to ya.”

“Thank you,” the young woman pushes the door the rest of the way open and accepts the cup, “How’s cleaning your bats going?”

“I’ve almost got them completely clean. It’s just the one at school left but it only needs a wipe down. Barb is expecting us in about 20 minutes. D’ya need help getting ready to go? Anything I can do?”

Cassiopeia sipped her coffee, humming thoughtfully, “Could you just…is my neck okay?”

The redhead leaned forward, soft fingers gently tilting Cassie’s chin up so her neck is exposed. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat.

“Ya missed a spot right here. Should only need a little to cover it though.”

Cassie cleared her throat, trying to suppress the blush spreading across her cheeks, “Thanks, that’s really helpful. I’ll get that covered up and then I’ll be ready to go.”

“Mkay, I’m gonna go back downstairs and get my coffee cake packed up to take over.”

[sugarmountainspring]

April 15.

6:30 : I woke up. Liv was having bad dreams. I had 2 coffees and got dressed while consoling her. I didn't wanna go to work. I grabbed leftover dinner from the fridge, switched my insoles from my rubber adidas to my cheap jordan work shoes, grabbed my backpack and tool bag and went out to my car.

8:00 : I showed up at the office. Its liv's exam week so she doesnt need a lift to school cause theyre all online. I'm always early. Today my drive took me about 10 minutes. I left late and everything. Mondays I go to the office, most other days I just show up where I'm needed. B***** the office lady is taking some time off (I guess), and as usual I show up before the boss. I clock in and clean some old cardboard and garbage from the warehouse. I have a chat with L***, the architect. He tells me about some DJ software he uses and tells me he ran a DJ company for weddings and graduation parties for 26 years. Every time we chat he always reveals something cool like that. After a bit I go out to the front room of the office and hang out with Z**, S*** and N*****. J**** is late, as usual. After a while chatting like that, I check my phone and realize I had a call from my dad (who is also my manager). He says there's a couple of things to do around some properties out in A**********. I like those properties cause nobody is really out there except for R****, the super of the property. He's nice enough but he always talks about stupid shit and doesn't listen back. That's one thing, he's old so I kinda expect that. But if he catches you out by his properties he'll give you all kinds of work that's his responsibility but he doesn't want to do. Luckily, I avoid him as I pull into Building A.

10:00 : Unit 302 has some pretty bad water damage. I throw on the new Super Eyepatch Wolf video to listen to while I work. Above the window is a huge sheet of drywall, heavy, warped, and half fallen out of place. I start by trying to slice it up. I saw and saw and saw with my utility knife. I make a cut about 2 inches into the sheet. No dice. I decide hitting chunks off with my hammer would probably work better. I give it a hard whack and make nothing more than a small dent. Awesome. It looks like the repeated wetting and drying have turned the naturally flaky, wafery drywall to what is equivalent to a solid piece of cement. At this point, my grade 11 and 12 auto shop teacher's words ring in my head. "There are surgeons, and there are butchers. You should aim to be a surgeon, but butchers exist for a reason." I start tearing down the sheet with my hands, careful not to disturb the L-bracket that holds the bad piece of drywall to good ones around the window. From the ceiling falls several dead wasp nests and what appears to be a birds nest. No critters in there. Lucky me. I pack up the debris I've made and toss it in one of the garbage bins around the property.

11:30 : this is why I like a********** properties. Nobody ever does anything around here. At the end of my last little bit of work, I cleaned up the hole I made with my knife. With that solid drywall, my blade broke off like I was trying to carve the hole out of a lemon wafer stick. I just spent the last 20 minutes fucking around, trying to find a new blade. Nobody breathing down my neck or telling me to get back to work. It's kinda nice. Once that's done, I remember I was told to help out cleaning up the properties. Normally what that entails is moving garbage people are too lazy to throw in the garbage bin from the side of the bin to the inside of the bin. At the main hub I go to at this property, the bins are overflowing with junk and there are 4 twin sized box springs, 2 couches and several bags of garbage to the side. Hm. Down the line of houses and apartment buildings on the street, lots of bins that are much emptier. Guess I'm doing some hauling.

11:54 : I've scoped out some empty bins, and I've thrown some couches and shelves into them. I never ate breakfast, so I eat lunch. Today, I will be eating leftovers, a luxury I don't normally have. Normally, I'd eat at Wendy's, A&W, or grab something from the hotplate at the Foodland around the corner. But today I'm eating the Thai chili chicken on fluffy jasmine rice I made yesterday. Saving money never tasted sooooo good. At this point I'm listening to a video from one of my favourite channels, ANIKI, about the history of the yakuza from the 17th century to today. I grab a seat in my car, roll the windows down a crack because it's getting hot out (finally) and chow down.

12:05 : I finish lunch. During lunch, I think about how my car really needs an oil change, and how sometimes the "check coolant" light pops on. With the weather changing, I understand the latter and that doesn't worry me. The former? A little more pressing. There's one mechanic I trust in town. It's hours are the exact same as my work hours. I use my car for work so I can't just drop it off and pick it up at the end of the day. And one of those "half hour oil and tire change" places? Forget it. My mom got one of those a month ago and she's had nothing but trouble with her car since, from them explaining she needs a new fly wheel which she didn't pay for, to a transmission fluid flush that she did pay for, which immediately sprang a leak, stopped working, and needed to be repaired at the garage I trust that I mentioned earlier. I can change oil no problem, I just don't know where to dispose of the old oil. Maybe I should just lean into being scummy and throw it in the lake or just let it drain into some Tupperware and throw them into public trash cans. Much to consider. Much to stress over, more like. But for now, I'm back to slugging around old dirty wet couches and beds. I would ask myself why I don't get a desk job doing data entry and sending emails, but I know I'd be just as whiny and complainy there as I am here. At least here I get some exercise and some sun and a decent wage. My town isn't exactly a hub for business, but this is where I live so I take what gets doled out to me. There's a real meth problem in my city. Everywhere you go, you see people pushing shopping carts full of jumper cables, old shoes missing matches, and pounds upon pounds of sweets, eyes bugged out of their heads, screaming at people, twitching and itching all over. I've been having a nagging thought over the past couple of months that, while that seems less than optimal, I'm kinda at my breaking point. Should I just give up on regular society and run with that society? Or should I finally do what I've been thinking about since I was 15 and just kill myself. I know everyone says life gets better as you get older but I found that hard to believe back then, and I still do today. For now, I haul garbage.

2:49 : moved around as much junk as I could. There's still a couple of couches and a huge mattress by one of the bins but they don't fit in my car and the next empty bin to the one they're next to is about a kilometer away. I still have an hour left at work today so I may drag them over. I may not. Who's to say. I may just hang out. That's the beauty of working at the farthest property from the office. Nobody's gonna say anything! Since I last logged my stuff here, I went out to the D*** road property. It's a lazy Monday, I'm done all my make readys for my move ins next month so I'm not stressed, and I just cleaned up some garbage there. There's a lot less to do over there. One box spring, a couple cardboard boxes, and an old bathtub. All tossed in a bin. I caught one of the cleaners out there and we talked. I'm bad with names, so I can't put it here, even in a redacted form. She's nice though. We just talked about how expensive shit is getting, and how much of a dickhead our boss is. He drives a ferrari. He's a landlord. He's kinda a local villain. He sent me and everyone I work with an email to explain that we wouldn't be able to get in touch with him cause he's skiing in the north pole right now because business is so bad because hamas terrorists killed a bunch of innocent colonizers on the other side of the planet. OK man. I've worked here since the beginning of January and I still haven't seen him. And this is his second vacation of the year. Last was at the south pole. Thoughts and prayers dude, I hope you can crank up rent even higher soon 🙏. During my chat with the cleaning lady my bestie sent me some pics. During high school we were super tight, but their parents moved to Nova Scotia on our last day of grade 11 and they've lived there ever since. But just yesterday they touched down in Alberta for a summer job out in the mountains at some kind of resort. Included in some of the pics they sent me was a trailer park at the foot of some mountains. Doesn't that just seem beautiful? I'm not a man of excess, I'm very very easy to please, I think I could do well in a cheap double-wide with a view. I think I could convince Liv to get out there with me. She's in school right now so it would probably take a year or two. But I've talked about moving all over (even to alberta) so many times this is all just another pipe dream. That being said, best of luck to the homie Llewellyn and all of their future alberta endeavors.

4:00 : leaving work. Didn't do any more cleaning. Just sat around.

4:26 : just got home. Liv stayed home to study for her exams. But she cooked me some Ramen and hot dogs that were ready when i got home. Thank you Liv ❤️. She's watching a YouTube video where some Korean guys bite things in a kitchen, and some of the things they bite may be cake. It's a beautiful warm day out so I put down my tools and stripped butt naked, sat down on the couch, and dug into my food. I think I'm going to play some pokemon quarantine crystal on my phone.

4:54 : changed my mind and changed the TV to something we can watch together. Literally since I made that last entry to now I've been looking for a movie to watch. I settled on hereditary. It took me half an hour to find a movie. I think there's something wrong with my brain

5:15 : Liv wanted to paint so I'm here on da toilet thinking of things to paint

6:29 : I painted a face. I always paint faces. This one came out ugly. That's ok cause plenty of people have ugly faces. I feel ugly so I wanted to make something kinda ugly. I had a beer and now I'm laying in bed. I never nap but I feel like I want one right now. I asked Liv to wake me up in 20 but idk if I'll actually fall asleep at all. Guess we'll see.

6:34 : instagram was always fucking dumb but now it feels extra extra dumb.

8:29 : Liv came in to "wake me up" (I didn't sleep) but she climbed into bed and we held eachother and we had sex. We left bed, she continued painting and I played some Persona 4, which I haven't played in a bit. Good news everyone: Yukiko Amagi is safe!! Me and Liv are going out to get Boba now. Liv's painting is really pretty. A long time ago she painted one really similar to what she's painting now, so this one is kinda an update. A psychedelic bust of a headless pink and yellow lady on a royal blue background. She says she's gonna have flowers busting out of a crack in her chest and her head hole. I can't wait to see how it turns out.

10:04 : it's the end of the day. I took my garbage out and passed my downstairs neighbors in the hall. We said hi. Paper recycling today. I've been slacking on that one. I don't care about recycling, it's just that it tears the regular garbage bags so it's easier to put it in a bin. So it's all outside now. I took a quick shower. I didn't wash my hair because I don't like the way it looks after it's been washed, all poofy and round. I blew my nose in my hand and it was still black from the dust in the unit with the warped drywall. A symbol of a hard day's work. Well, maybe not that hard. Either way, I'm in bed right now. Liv is calling her mom. They're tight. When she hangs up, we'll probably watch some simpsons or seinfeld and fall asleep hugging eachother all soft and warm uwu

[marloray]

NABCABL ~ {2: The Luthier Upstairs}

TUESDAY, JUNE 6, 1911

When Marly woke up, she got to work quickly. She cleaned around the apartment room, and she finished the majority of her chores. The Burmese then scraped up all of her money that she could find, and awaited for her parents to wake up. It was a Tuesday, so she knew that her father had already gone off to work, but she knew that her mother would wake up soon.

When Mrs. Divata walked into the main area of their apartment room, Marly smiled, already having changed and was now wide awake.

“Goodmorning, Mom!” Marly meowed. Mrs. Divata turned her head to look in Marly’s direction, a groggy smile set on the molly’s face. Marly’s mother padded over to the kitchen table, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Marly walked over to her mom as the coffee was poured. The young Burmese’s nose scrunched up ever so slightly, as she was never a big fan of coffee, or the smell of it. When Mrs. Divata finished pouring her coffee, Marly began to speak.

“So, I was thinking that I could get the cello fixed sometime soon, perhaps today?” Marly mewed, fidgeting with her fingers. Mrs. Divata thought for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee, before responding.

“Hm. Well, dad is off and work, and I need to stay home and take care of your siblings,” After another sip, Mrs. Divata continued, “How about you visit more neighbors, and I’ll think about it? We don’t even know if there’s anyone in the area who would know how to fix a cello, nevertheless someone who would take a job from a Filipino,” Her mother sighed, and so did Marly. She knew a little bit about the whole Asian immigration limitation by the law, but she didn’t know all that much about it. So, the Burmese just smiled at her mother, heading towards the door of their tenement room.

“Alrighty then!” Marly chirped, slipping on her shoes, then her cello case, “Today I’ll check out the upstairs neighbors,” The Burmese opened the door, waving goodbye to her mom.

“Bye, love you!” Mrs. Divata called out to her daughter.

“Love you too!” Marly chirped, before closing the door, a warm smile on her face. Marly stood out in the hallway of the tenement for a while, before softly skittering to the staircase. She adjusted the strap on her cello case, making sure it would stay on her back, before climbing the staircase, muttering to herself.

“One day I may as well end up tripping on this thing, then falling to my death, and my cello’s,” Marly mewed jokingly. Staircases were a bit of a challenge for the cellist and the bassist, whose instruments were either around their height, the same height as they were, or taller. For Marly, her cello, when in it’s case, went about to her shoulder when she and the case were both standing upright. Marly’s footsteps were quiet, despite the fact that she was lugging around a large wooden instrument. Soon the Burmese reached the next floor, and Marly thought it would be funny if she found the room that was right above her’s. So she counted the rooms, until she reached the ninth one. Marly took a deep breath, before knocking on the door softly.

For a few seconds, Marly was unsure if someone would answer, as there were no distinct noises of moving behind the door. But as a click could be heard as the door opened, her ears perked up. The young Burmese was greeted by an elderly cat, who started at Marly with a warm gaze. The tom-cat opened the door fully, revealing a well groomed pelt that fluffed up around his neck, almost like a boa feather drape.

“Goodmorning, young musician,” He meowed calmly, looking down at Marly. Marly smiled, and glanced at his right eye, which was a blank light blue. He was blind in that eye, it seemed. Marly smiled at her neighbor, his greeting was quite the unique one at that.

“Hello!” Marly chirped, “How are you?” She mewed. Most people would have her play something for them or have her let them touch her cello before deciding that she was a musician. This was the first time the Burmese has met someone who notices it how it is.

“I’m doing well, how are you, little one?” The tom-cat replies, “Would you like to come inside, it's probably better than standing out in the hallway,” He opened his door fully, gesturing for the cellist to step in. Marly nodded her head as she walked into his tenement room.

“I’m good, thank you,” She responded politely as she looked around. It was clear that this tenement had been in use for a while, and it's been taken good care of. The decoration was very cozy and warm, but a different warmth, unlike the summer heat. More so the type of warmth like that of a warm hug. The lights were dim, but were still bright enough that one could concentrate to do work. The tom-cat closed the door, looking over at Marly.

“You may call me Archie,” Archie meowed, smiling at Marly. The Burmese nodded her head as another cat approached them. She was a female manx cat, with a smaller build and small ears to go along with it. She was kind looking, and it was clear that she was quite the spunky one when she was younger. As she got closer to Marly, Archie went over to stand by his wife.

“I’m Della,” the manx molly mewed, giving Marly a kind smile.

When Marly looked closer, her ears perked up and her eyes widened as she noticed how Della’s left eye exhibited the same foggy blueness that Archie’s right eye had. Both cats had one seeing eye, along with one blind eye. Marly smiled as she glanced from cat to cat, though she didn’t mention it. They were like two halves of a whole, in this sense.

“Nice to meet you all!” Marly chirped, “Marly Divata,” The Burmese introduced herself. Archie smiled as Della spoke.

“Marly Divata…” She meowed, as if trying Marly’s name out, “The cellist?” Della asked with a small grin on her face. Marly’s ears perked up when she said that. It sounded like a nice title, one fit for her.

“Yes, the cellist!” Marly nodded her head, returning Della’s grin. Archie chuckled as he listened in, and Della’s eyes lit up as she pointed to her husband.

“You already know that he’s Archie, but many people around her know him as The Luthier,” When Della said this, Marly tilted her head. A luthier, she’s sworn that she’s heard the word before, but she wasn’t sure what it meant or where it came from.

“To put it more simply,” Archie piped up, “An instrument mender,” He held his arm up, motioning to a nearby wall. The lighting along this wall was different compared to the rest of the tenement room. It was brighter, as if this was the place’s main attraction, the spotlight. There were a lot of objects in this specific part, making it look cluttered from afar. Marly’s eyes widened as a smile crossed her face as she took it all in.

It was a workspace, that much was clear. With a large wooden desk, built to hold tools along one of the sides. The wall space above the desk held even more tools, spanning from wood files, hand saws of all sizes, clamps, sharpening tools, a lot of things often used for wood work. There were also several types of glue, the ones perfect for the repair of wooden instruments. Even glue for fixing a snapped bow. The array of materials placed in this work space were clearly Archie’s work, each thing picked out, preened, and placed in the place that would make it most useful to the luthier.

A luthier…someone who fixed broken instruments. This was perfect for the cellist! Marly quickly turned back to Archie and Della, slipping off her cello case as she spoke quickly.

“Oh my!” She started, “I didn’t know that a luthier is what an instrument mender is called, but I really need one right now,” Marly unzipped her cello case, gingerly showing them the crack at the top. “It’s not fatal at the moment, but I’ve heard that if they’re not fixed in a certain amount of time it gets worse. And my family isn’t sure where we could find a mender, or one that would take a job from us-” Marly stopped here, not wanting to mention heritage, before continuing after taking a deep breath, as she was out of breath from speaking fast. “And the neighbor next door doesn’t like asymmetry and the crack makes my cello like that and I needa get it fixed,”

After her rambling, Archie and Della looked at one another, before Archie chuckled softly. He held out his paw to Marly, motioning that he wanted to see her cello. Marly handed it over gingerly, and Archie took it, holding it by the neck, his paw just under the scroll.

"Well, it's just a small crack, I can probably get it fixed in three days," The tom-cat smiled.

Marly's eyes lit up as she smiled back, "Thank you!" She mewed, before quickly digging into her pocket, pulling out a small wad of money, along with some coins. It wasn't much, most of it was collected via playing out on the streets for fun. The Burmese waved it at Archie, wanting for him to take it. Archie stared at the money for a while, before reaching a furred paw out. As he did, Della looked like she was about to speak up, but her husband flicked his tail, so she hushed. Archie soon grabbed the money, sorting through it. As he held a few coins in one paw, Archie also held the minor wad in the other paw.

The elderly tom continued to hold the coins in his paw, but he held out the rest of the money back out to Marly. The Burmese tilted her head as she stared at the money in Archie’s paw. Why would he be holding it out to her? The total amount of money that she handed him wasn’t even enough to cover the actual cost of one full repair! Marly tentatively shook her head.

“Nuh-uh,” She mewed, “It’s for you, and Della,” She meekly whispered. Archie simply smiled.

“Take it. What I’m getting, these coins, are enough to pay for food for this week,” He pushed the money to Marly’s paw gently, and she grasped it, a small smile on her face.

“Thank you,” The Burmese mewed softly. Marly knew that the money she had wasn’t even enough to pay for a small repair, so Archie taking only a portion of the offered amount puzzled Marly, but she was grateful.

Archie, who was still holding Marly’s cello, motioned Marly over to his apartment room window. The young Burmese followed, and as she peered down the window. From the window, one could see the outside world, and that included the tenement building next to Marly’s. Said building, was the one that contained the Hellers.

“I was there yesterday!” Marly squeaked when she saw the building. Archie chuckled softly as he lay Marly’s cello down on the ground near his desk, before him and his wife joined Marly, all three of them peering down at the neighboring building.

“That’s right,” Della replied, “I remember me and Archie were talking over tea, and we spotted a small figure lugging around something almost as big as they were,” Both of the elder felines chuckled as Della said that.

“And you knocked on the door of the Heller House,” Archie meowed, “And they let you right in,”

“It's not often we see someone approach the Heller House, so it's nice to see someone going there for once,” Della put a paw on her hip.

“Oh, really?” Marly mewed, breaking her gaze from the window to look at Archie and Della.

Archie nodded his head, “Do us a favor, okay, Cellist?”

Marly grinned. A possible nickname, and one that fit like a pair of warm mittens. “Of course!” She chirped, “What is it?”

“It's not hard,” Della assured her, “We’re not going to make you go on some across-the-States journey,” They all laughed at that, and as the laughter ceased, Archie spoke up again.

“Just go over there, and befriend those Hellers. Like we said, it's been a while since we’ve seen someone go over there, and it would be nice to see those kittens being out and about with other's, alright?” He smiled softly.

Marly nodded her head, “I can do that,” she meowed.

“Good!” Della grinned, “Now, would you like some apple juice? We just restocked on it,”

Marly nodded her head once more, “That would be swell!” She mewed. The elderly molly smiled as she left to bring in beverages, and the three would discuss music theory, over a nice cup of apple juice.

So the little cellist now had a mission. One that she was happy to do. Befriend the Hellers. To be honest, Marly didn't need to be told to do something such as this. She would love this mission immensely. Though she did see a challenge in befriending Mordecai, that made it all the more fun for the Burmese.

[indeedthatvisser5]

c y b e r - s m u t t

I've always been a light sleeper, but some gonk next door woke me up talking to himself. His deep voice rattled my walls all afternoon while I was trying to catch z's before my 1 a.m. shift at the 25/7. Right before I was able to finally drift off, my alarm rang out its tone. 12:15 came too early. Yawning every other second, I managed to pull on the knee-padded yoros I typically use for work, and a tank top. I could feel the bloodshot irritation in my optics from the lack of a full evening’s rest. I kept trying snap out of it while leaning against the whirring vending machine in my apartment. It was supposed to be dispensing a Matapang Coffee, except this time, the vendor sounded like it was struggling to function, I certainly had never heard the motor try so hard, so I leaned in close to try and run a diagnostic on it, but instead, I got my entire outfit covered in caramel flavored latte. 

“Aw, fucking hell!” Those were my last Eds til payday, and that was my last clean outfit. Well, not my last clean outfit.  

In a crumple under the foot of my bed was the one clean article of clothing I had – a teal long-sleeve bodysuit I wore when I used to moonlight as a joytoy. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this,” I muttered, popping the edge of the bottoms against my ass cheek. Not that I had any real problem wearing it, but my days as a joytoy were long behind me. Sure, the parties were fun and the Eds were okay, but after a while I’d come to realize that lifepath only had me running circles around Pacifica. 

I caught one last look at myself, activating my full-body mirror. Part of my gimmick as a doll was the fact I kind of looked like the chick from the Chromanticore ads, bulge and all. My bodysuit still fit my slender 6’ ft. frame, but admittedly, I loved me some Slaughterhouse Prime, and the tight material showed it. I threw on my trenchcoat and ran out the door. The reinforced outsoles on my exo-jacks clunked down the stairs of my apartment. Pacifica always vaguely smelled like something was burning outside, but my downstairs neighbor Kolin happened to be having himself a midnight smoke. 

“Yo, Izzy! You uh, are you open again?” 

“Nah choom, sorry, it’s just laundry day!” 

It took a lot of patience but getting hired to be a clerk at the 25/7 was kinda worth it. But that was only because it was only a small downstairs walk from my place. I can see my little kiosk from my balcony without having to use a scope! Once I got there, I unlocked the doors, turned on the lights, booted up my register, and made sure my Budget Arms M-10AF Lexington was loaded. Already fatigued, I was ready for another long 9 hours. The start of the night was a little quiet. Hell, I barely heard any skirmishes. I had a few drunks and other vagrants come through, but my store’s location just never got as busy as the ones in the other districts. I couldn’t imagine the other ones are this slow. 

By daybreak, I couldn’t quit nodding off at the register. I gave in with my chin rested on my hand when the roar of a Hererra Outlaw startled me awake, the intense engine sounded like it was right beside me while it was yards away. No one would dare own one of those in Pacifica of all places. No one for damn sure is just passing through either. But it stopped, and out stepped this Corpo, all decked out in three-piece synweave. And he was coming towards my kiosk. His netrunning visor gleamed against the 9 am sun as he stepped in with a weirdly friendly smile.  

“Good morning, how are you?” He beamed, as he went straight for a can of Nicola and a taco from the shelf. The sharply dressed stranger kept looking around, but I could feel his eyes on me, trying to catch a glance at what I was wearing. He placed his items on the small counter. 

“Did you find what you were looking for, sir?” I asked, still confused at having a random Corpo in my store. “You seem to be a long way from Downtown, especially here.” 

“I must be honest, I’m not sure yet?” He quipped, blatantly leaning over to peek at my bare thighs. “Have you been working here long?” I snickered a little as I pulled my hair behind my ear, not every day a someone this smooth looking struck up a convo with me at work. 

“I been here since 1 this morning, if that’s what you mean,” I said playing coy. 

“Oh no, no, I meant how long have you been cashiering for 25/7?” 

“Only a couple of years, just about.” 

“Do you like it?” I was caught off-guard by the man’s genuine question. I guess no one had ever really cared to ask that?  

“I, well, it’s just biz, it makes me enough Eddies to keep the lights on at home.” 

“I see.” His visor glinted in the sun as he nodded. “You ever think of doing anything else?” 

“I don’t know?” In the middle of my confusion as to where this was going, he produced a buisness card from his breast pocket. It was a slate blue color with embossed gold lettering that read 'Gen+ : A subsidiary of Biotechnica’.“Holy shit.” I couldn’t help myself. Just like that, a random job offer from what looked like something legit. More legit than being a cashier in this city. The Corpo seemed to have loosened up more as he excitedly looked around the kiosk as oif to make sure we were alone, and he leaned in closer to me. 

“I’m sorry choom, I never introduced myself. “I’m Dr. Dorian Pierce. My company has developed a new piece of cyberware, and I’m looking for some testors.” 

“Whoa, no, no no, I’m not interested.” My hackles were instantly up. “I am not going to get no cyberpsychosis, no.” I was serious. Lost a couple family members that way. 

“Nothing like that, choom, no. Very much the opposite. Okay, I know you’re on the clock, but the next time you’re off, call me. I can't get into anymore deets here.” I nodded in an unsure acquiescence as I kept studying the business card. I was able to compose myself looking at him through his visor.  

“Okay. I’m off tomorrow.” 

“Tom’s Diner in Watson?” Dr. Pierce’s eyes gleamed as he gave me the coordinates. 

[the-mortifying-ordeal-of]

It was a beautiful day. I woke up naturally at 4:30a and was so excited to get so much time to myself. Wilson had shared addy with me, so at 6, after my cup of coffee, I played my little maraca for the last time. I accomplished so much! I dropped off my car at my mechanic for an oil change, and asked them to confirm my Check Engine light is actually an oxygen sensor, because it's been on for a year and I'm worried it'll mask something more serious. I walked the 2 miles home with my Shivananda chants, the wind and breeze at my back, lush green and vibrant humanity all around me, and I frequently laughed while noting my thoughts: planning, rehearsing, reviewing, planning, projecting/forecasting, planning planning, fear. I felt so... peaceful, like myself.

I started a deep clean project back at home, watched a webinar on belonging and community gatherings, and then quickly got a call back from my mechanic. Too soon. I answer and he's immediately apologizing, I tell him it's okay - I go to them because I trust them, and he can say whatever he needs to. Apparently when they did their routine 15m test drive, the technician barely made it 10 minutes before he had to roll down the window because he could actually smell the exhaust leaking into the cabin. He brought it back, he checked the exhaust system, and the tech and my guy both immediately had the same reaction: We can't let her drive this car anymore. My car (Simon) is old, 16 years and over 200k miles, and we've talked for years about what makes sense to fix and what doesn't. I should have been prepared. I asked him to humor me, how much would repairing the system take, and he said $2500. That should go to a different car, because the exhaust isn't the only or last thing to need big chunks of cash. Ugh.

Apparently I haven't noticed because my cheap ass hates using AC and I almost ALWAYS drive with my window down. I'm telling myself this check engine light has been on for about a year, certainly I can buy myself some time and keep driving with the window down (sparingly, for critical trips only) while I save up. I could also go to my backup mechanic, or the cheap mechanic everyone raves about! (I actually like that plan, yes - second opinion it is.) I've already been panicking about money, partly going through my food journey because it saves cash, but with my rent going up $100 I'm nearing my limit, already saying no to trips and plans, my $14k of student loans still untouched since the pandemic freeze in 2020, and now I'm researching used cars that will be as reliable for another 8 years like this one was, and the same car profile that I bought in 2016 for $9k is now $19k. Spoiler alert, I do not make significantly more money now than I did in 2016, certainly not double, AND I'm now living solo with one income.

My addy day was still peaceful, serene, so quiet and calm and steady. For once, my thoughts weren't racing, my energy felt abundant but tranquil, and I felt positive in a way that felt sustainable and authentic - like I didn't have to half ass things or worry about burning out. I also didn't eat until nearly 4p, and I'm not complaining about that perk. But I can't take it again, I could lose my job, I need my job, and oh boy do I have a big money and lifestyle puzzle to figure out.

I refuse to touch my emergency fund. But do I stop contributing to savings, pull my retirement contributions back to the minimum for the match, stop adding to my FSA and live off the rollover funds for 2025? I could have a year of no trips and events: focus solely on quality time, words of affirmation, solo learning, staycations, blaze through the library and all my workbooks, take advantage of my apartment's cardio equipment, and just make my life so so simple and cheap and hope I can find the inner peace to still feel secure and free.

Or, now is the time to leap. My depression has finally started to dissolve (lol what if this year of depression was just a cognitive side effect from huffing exhaust for a year lololol the timeline matches up), and maybe this is my time to be brave and bold and finally try new things, get outside my comfort zone, get out in the world, and get paid for what I can do: find my edge. Wilson is a manager and a teacher, ICD was a director and now a mom to twins, MUC is a director, MLFP is a teacher and an entrepreneur and a court leader - I can be big. I'm surrounded by big people, and their mental health isn't perfect, but I have support and community and resources and I know I've been underperforming and hiding. I can be bigger. I will NOT dog/housesit for my aunt, I can still have and say my "No." and fall back on my small staycation plan, but maybe I get back into my hustle and drive and not only pay off a car, but finally tackle my loans and set myself free. I think I could do it in a few years.

I'll write it all down soon, track the numbers, do my research. I had a tough time quieting my mind last night and it wasn't addy, it was my money panic. But I'm a money guru, a frugal queen, a budget doyen. There's no way to know if any of this is good, or bad. It just is, and I meet life on life's terms. I would have faith and hope for literally anyone else, so I will share that with myself, too. It's all good.

[thesquireinvictus]

I have been struck by lightening twice. Both times there were no real ill-effects that were lasting.

The first strike occurred when I was in high school, back in the 1970s. I was on the family phone in the kitchen speaking with a friend. There was a thunderstorm at the time, and I had heard this could be a potential danger. Yet, I was 16 or 17, never considered this danger, despite the fact that there was a telephone and power pole just outside our backyard property line.

I heard a loud boom in my left ear, and it felt like I had been hit by a baseball bat. The blast knocked me high over the kitchen table and chairs; the table was already set with dishes, glasses and the flower centerpiece. My flight didn’t touch anything on the table, and I hit the wall on the other side of the room, which was 20 feet away.

My Mom heard this and came running in. I had no idea what had happened, but she led me into the bathroom to clean up and splash water on my face. In the mirror I saw that half my face, neck and down into my shoulder and chest looked sunburned. I couldn’t hear in my left ear. My shirt collar had been burned black and was actually still smoking. Mom rushed me to the hospital.

The doctors checked me out, concluded that I’d been struck by lightening and would be fine in a few days. I was.

Some 40 years later while teaching in Guangzhou, China, I was apparently struck again. I say apparently because I remember nothing about it.

I had gone to the market to buy a few groceries and was walking to my apartment complex during a heavy rainstorm. These can be sudden in the spring and summer afternoons and can last for five minutes or hours, so people always carry an umbrella during those months. I was only about five meters from the front security gate and booth and glad to be home. That’s the last thing I remember until the next morning.

I woke up early feeling great, energized. But I was nude and so was my bed—no sheets, blanket, pillow cases, etc., and not a stitch of clothes on me.

I thought this was odd, but felt too good to let it concern me. After my morning ablutions, I went into the kitchen to make my morning coffee. There I was met by more mysteries.

It drives me crazy when someone leaves a cabinet door open; “Get what you need and close the damned door.” But every door on every cabinet was wide open. An even greater “What the hell?” is that every plate and bowl I owned was filled, piled high with steamed rice. Nothing else just cooked rice. Plus, my two largest pots had leftover rice in them. I had cooked enough rice for 40–50 people. I had no idea why and remembered none of this. I would not do these things. But I had to finish my morning pre-school ritual, so I put it all out of mind.

My wife and I were teaching at different schools then and during morning break at 10:30, she texted, “Any adverse effects from the lightening strike?”

I thought she was setting me up for some kind of practical joke, responding, “What the hell are you talking about?”

At lunchtime, she called and told me that I had called her about 6:30 the previous evening to tell that I’d just been struck by lightening, but the security guard had helped me get into my apartment and I was fine. Then she said that almost exactly one hour later, I called and told her the same exact thing. She claims I swore I couldn’t have called before because it had just happened. She could tell I wasn’t thinking clearly and didn’t argue, just told me to go rest.

I figured this was still a joke, but my curiosity was piqued. I wondered why I had cooked all that rice, woke up naked, etc. I could remember nothing from the night before and couldn’t wait to get home and look around my apartment for anything to spark my memory.

Once home, I explored my flat. When I opened the door to the guest room, I did discover more oddities. I only ever went into the room once a week to clean, so what I found deepened the mystery.

All of the items I had bought at the market were set in perfectly straight lines across the desk and bookcase shelves. Even the perishable meats, cheese and milk were there instead of in the refrigerator. On the floor beside the bed were all of the clothes I’d worn the day before and a towel, crumpled on the floor and still soaking wet.

Still, nothing sparked any inkling of memory or understanding. I figured there was nothing to do but clean the place up. Throughout the week, I was unconvinced that I’d been struck by lightening as my wife kept trying to tell me.

I lived a three minute walk from school so on Friday afternoons, I’d go home during lunch to change into more comfortable weekend clothes then return to school.

Wearing my weekend athletic shoes, as I walked back to school, my left heel was sticking some and there was that unmistakable smack of gum on my shoe. Getting to my classroom, I immediately sat down, grabbed something to scrape off the gum and turned my shoe up to do so. It was burned black and partially melted. “Shit! I guess I was struck by lightening.”

That evening a Chinese friend agreed to act as translator and we asked the security guard about it. He confirmed, stating that he’d actually seen the lightening bounce off a building, hit a tall palm tree, then jump to my umbrella. He said I was knocked flat, the nylon umbrella was on fire, but I claimed that I was all right. He wanted to call an ambulance, but I wouldn’t let him. I just wanted to get to my flat. After helping me there, he did call an ambulance and sent them to me. According to him, they examined me in my apartment and wanted to take me to the hospital. I apparently refused and kicked them out cursing.

I remember none of this, but it obviously did happen. I kept the burned, melted heel from my left shoe as a souvenir.

[ghostsandcoffeegal]

It's late and I'm having some feelings. I realized that the last few days (Save Yesterday, but I'll get to that) felt more productive than any of my work days ever do.

I was able to wake up early/on time without the crush that I usually feel where I have to peel myself out of bed at 5 minutes 'til I need to sign into work. Hell, Friday I woke up at 6 AM, was able to clean a majority of my apartment, make breakfast/coffee, get a shower, and then cook for Friendsgiving/go to it.

Granted, Saturday needed to be a total rot day, but I usually need one of those per week anyways so... That's not a new thing. Work days cause me to need that too. I'm typically a night owl as well, which is why I'm so surprised about all of this.

Today I was able to get up early as well, got a lot of sewing done on a skirt project that has been sitting in a pile on my sewing table for two months, went out to get lunch and a coffee and got a fair amount of drawing done before I started to feel tired again. Then I was able to come home and get some knitting done on a project as well.

All of these days I was able to go to bed early and wake up early. Yet now, it's almost 2AM for me. And I'm awake with feelings. Feeling off and annoyed that as tired as I am I dread sleeping.

And that feels wrong too. I don't hate my job. It's the best job I've had in a long time. My coworkers are cool, the work isn't hard, and I get to work from home now so my spoons are a lot more managed than before. I definitely am not upset with that at all.

When I worked outside my house, I would come home and have to stare at the ceiling for an hour or two before I felt anything even remotely close to human again. Cooking? No. No spoons for that so it was either takeout or a bag of chips/shredded cheese as a food source. Showering? Only because I had to because I didn't want my coworkers to have to put up with me and it was still a fight. Crafty things still happened but it was more difficult to do and even slower than now.

And yet. I'm feeling weird. Like, my job is cool but it feels like its cutting into my actual "productive" time? Or at least what feels truly important? Which like, obvs job is important to fund those things.

I'm definitely rambling and my sleep-deprived brain is unhappy with me. Perhaps there's a coherent idea somewhere here, but probably not.

[her-koss-portapros]

09 - 24 - 2023

Today’s been an okay day. It’s been peaceful in my quiet mind. I woke up late and talked to Spencer for a moment. He was telling me about the bus schedule from El Ejido to Almeria Beach, and I was listening as I made my coffee in the Mr. Coffee pot, the way that I like it. Five scoops of Veranda roast to five cups of water. Eventually he hung up with the excuse that he needed to eat before catching the bus, but I was wondering if his deeper reasoning was that talking to me made him sad and uncomfortable. I could tell that he was close to crying as we said goodbye without ending on “I love you.” I sat with this in mind as I ate a cinnamon blondie for breakfast alongside my hot coffee.

I decided that I would clean around the apartment and my reward for cleaning would be a trip to Goodwill. Thrifting always seems to prove fruitful. Seeing random, outdated pieces of clothing and objects that I would never purchase. Finding something that isn’t perfect but is good enough. And of course, it’s in my budget. Goodwill has a distinct smell to it, as well. The best one that we have in Atlanta is located in Buckhead - around a 15 minute drive from where I reside on 386 Parkway Dr. It’s in the depressing part of Buckhead, as I see it. Though really, all of Buckhead is quite depressing to me.

I didn’t end up thrifting though. I did clean; I threw in a load of laundry, I unloaded dishes and vacuumed the 550 square feet that I walk on everyday. While doing this I listened to my favorite podcast. Every episode is informative and usually about something happening presently in society, but is explained through a historical lens. The two ladies always start their episodes by chatting about normal things happening, gossip, the rest. And today I really only wanted to listen to the chit-chat and gossip. I didn’t have enough space in my brain for learning.

After cleaning I told myself I’d lay out in Piedmont park for a bit before going thrifting, knowing that I was leaving the house without eating anything except for that blondie at breakfast. I took with me the Goodwill bags that had been sitting in front of my A/C vent for over two months now - filled to their brims with clothes I’ve intended to donate. I drove the long way into Midtown so that I could turn right onto 10th to find a place to park. There was plenty of parking at noon-thirty on a Sunday. I parked and walked to the spot where him and I threw the frisbee a few weeks ago. On the first of September, actually. But there was no disc to throw and there was no Spencer to laugh and lay with. Instead, I laid on my beach towel by myself, and I admired the juxtaposition of the warmth I felt on my skin in direct sunlight against the cool shade under the tree I chose to lay under. These past few days without him have just barely felt real.

I was ravenously hungry by the time I got up to leave, and realized that thrifting was going to have to happen another day. I went home and ate eggs, then a full carton of raspberries, and finally three scoops of coffee-chip ice cream. And then I slept.

The way that light hits certain furniture pieces on a sunny Sunday afternoon in my studio apartment makes me full with gratitude. I slept for two hours - from 4pm to 6 and had bizarre dreams that I can’t recall. I got up and then showered, then threw a frozen pizza in the over. A fourth of the pizza I would eat tonight, the rest for lunch at work tomorrow. And then I watched Netflix’s documentary on Joan Didion; the first Netflix media I’ve seen in a long time that doesn’t make me cringe. I love Joan Didion, and I love her mind, her writings, the way that she studies humans and the world around her. So now I’m writing this. It is 9:51 on the 24th of September. It’s a Sunday. I’m equal parts sad and grateful for what I have right now. I know that nobody will ever read what I write, but what’s important is that I write anyways. For myself, I guess.

[michelleleewise]

The Proposal

Pairing: Sugardaddy Loki x reader

Warnings: swearing, semi public sex, self esteem issues, self deprecating thoughts, feeling inadequate, dom Loki, sub reader

Summary: Loki takes you shopping as you try to work out what your feeling.

Part Nine-

You woke up Wednesday morning to your alarm blaring in your face. "Shut up im up!" You groaned slamming your hand down on it. You pushed the blankets off sitting up trying to will your brain to work. You stood slowly making your way to the kitchen, coffee was definitely needed. You sat at the table sipping your coffee going through your phone when a text popped up. "I will be at your apartment at 6 sharp. Be ready to go pet. ~L~." You sighed setting your phone down rubbing your temples.

You tried to will yourself from getting attached to him. You chose the one year program for school and you only had about six months left and then what....would he end the arrangement?..find someone else and completely forget about you?.."it's a business arrangement, you mean nothing to him." You told yourself standing up heading to your room getting dressed. You slipped your smock on buttoning it up looking at yourself. Admittedly your belly was a little soft, your hips a little wide, not to mention your head barely reached Loki's shoulders. You sighed again pulling your hair back "He could do better, he just feels sorry for you." You said to yourself in the mirror heading back to the living room.

You made your way outside your building starting to walk to school when someone slammed into your shoulder almost knocking you down. "Hey, what's your problem?" You turned seeing a tall blonde woman rushing down the sidewalk. You sighed righting yourself you headed to school. You spent the day dropping things, burning everything and spilling everything you touched on yourself. "Miss y/n, could I speak to you?" Your instructor called out. You put your head down making your way to him. "Y/n, you are one of the brightest students I have, so you can understand my surprise when you come in and use your smock as a paint canvas." He said looking at you.

"I'm sorry Mr. Williams, I've been distracted today." You said wiping your smock. "I understand life can be difficult, and things come up but I want you to succeed y/n, I need your complete focus here ok?" He asked "ok, sorry it won't happen again." You said looking down. "It's fine, now return to your station." He said nodding. You put your head down and went back to work. You felt like crying but you weren't sure why. you took a deep breath and continued your work. When the instructor called it a day you packed everything away and grabbed your jacket heading home.

You made it upstairs running to the shower throwing on clean clothes you checked the time seeing it was almost 6. "Dammit." You groaned rushing to grab your jacket and coat heading outside. You walked outside looking around but didn't see him. You pulled your phone out as you heard a car horn across the street, looking up seeing a dark green jaguar, the door opened seeing Loki step out. You scrunched your nose at the car "He really is slumming with me." You said to yourself walking across the street "ready to go pet?" He asked smiling. You smiled and nodded heading to the other side.

You sat back looking out the window as the buildings went by "What's on your mind pet?" You heard Loki ask. "Nothing, just had a long day." You sighed feeling Loki's hand on your thigh you looked over at him "you are supposed to speak to me if you are having issues remember?" He asked glancing at you. "Yes, I'm fine I promise. I've just had an off day is all." You smiled feeling him squeeze your thigh. "Very well. When we get there I want to to pick out any clothes you may need before we go do what I have planned." He said smiling "yes sir." You said smiling back, looking back out the window.

You pulled into the parking lot as Loki climbed out rushing over opening your door he extended his hand helping you out releasing it as you both walked towards the building. Your hand brushed against his and it took everything in you not to link your fingers with his when he put his hands in his pockets. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you headed inside. "Are you cold pet?" He asked holding the door for you "no, I'm fine." You said walking past him inside. He sat in one of the chairs by the fitting rooms as you grabbed and tried on a few pair of slacks for school along with some jeans and shirts. You came out with a small pile seeing him flip through a magazine "o..ok I think this is it." You said shifting feet. He set the magazine down looking at you "that's all your getting?" He asked furrowing his eyebrows "yes, it's all I need." You said looking down. He nodded as you both headed to the cashier where he paid before heading to the next store.

You walked in looking around, it looked like a Victoria secret but...more. "have you ever been to a store like this pet?" He asked as you saw wips and ropes lining one wall, shelves of life like dildos on another "n..no, I haven't." You said feeling yourself blush. "Well you are in for a treat then, you stay here ill be right back." He said walking off. You looked around seeing racks of lingerie, bras, panties, you felt a little overwhelmed with it all. "Ok pet, I've reserved the fitting room for one hour. Pick out something you would like to try on." He said smiling. "I..I don't even know where to start." You said looking at him. "Well, I could pick a few things if you like." He said as you nodded.

He wandered off coming back a few minutes later with a few hangers "let's start with these yes?" He asked "yes sir." You smiled as he guided you back to a small room with a cushioned chair and small table. He closed the door taking your bag from you handing you the hangers "ok, you go behind that curtain and change and I'll be waiting." He said smiling taking a seat in the chair. You closed the curtain stripping down grabbing the first one, a deep green teddy with a tulle skirt that barely fell below your ass with dark green lace panties. You slid it on adjusting it looking in the mirror seeing the lace barley covering your breasts held together in the middle by thin satin straps. You turned around seeing your cheeks poking out from under the skirt. You took a deep breath grabbing the curtain you peeked your head out hearing Loki laugh "no need to be shy pet, let me see." He said smiling as you slowly stepped out instinctively placing your arms over your chest.

"No pet, let me see you..please." He said leaning forward. You smiled putting your hands down as his eyes roamed over you. "Turn around." He said as you turned, stucking your ass out a little for good measure. "Mm do you like it pet?" He asked watching you. "It's comfortable, do you like it...sir?" You asked bringing your finger to your lips. "Come here." He growled as you slowly made your way to him, standing between his parted legs you bent over pushing your brests up "yes...sir?" You asked seeing his pupils darken. He grabbed your waist pulling you into his lap making you straddle him. "Is someone being naughty?" He asked looking down at your breasts pressed up against his chest. "What do you mean...sir?" You asked fluttering your eyelashes.

He growled reaching up under your arm he ripped the tag off tossing it on the table as he slid the straps of the teddy down, gently pulling it down exposing your breasts, the lace pooling at your waist. "Have you been a good girl pet?" He asked as his hands cupped your breasts massaging them. "Y..yes sir. I've been good." You moaned feeling his rough palms slide across your nipples. "Do you remember what I showed you?" He asked leaning forward kissing the valley of your breasts. "Y...yes sir." You moaned rocking your hips against his bulge. "Would you like to ride me pet?" He asked. You moaned loudly feeling his lips wrap around your nipple, lightly sucking as he swirled his tongue around it humming. "God yes....sir please.." you moaned, the sound of his lips on you making your walls clench.

"Then do it pet." He growled nipping at your nipple making you cry out. You reached between you, undoing his pants pulling him out stroking him feeling him spread his legs wider. He removed his hand reaching down to your panties sliding them aside as you lifted your hips lining him up at your entrance. He pulled off your nipple with a pop, grabbing the back of your head he pulled you down to him engulfing your lips with his as you slowly slid down on him. He gripped your hip pushing you down as his tongue pressed past your lips making you moan in his mouth. He pulled back looking at you "you know what to do pet." He panted gripping your hips. "Take your pleasure from me." He groaned as you lifted your hips up slamming them back down. "Yes y/n....just like mmm..." he moaned feeling your walls tighten around him. You gripped the back of the chair seeing his head tilt back his eyes meeting yours before fluttering closed making you smile.

You quickened your pace, slamming down onto him throwing your head back feeling your stomach tighten "fuck y/n...aahh fuck me harder....take what you want..." he growled, his fingers digging into your flesh. "God sir...i...I'm gonna...." you moaned gripping the back of the chair. "Come y/n...I need to feel you squeeze me...aahh...." he groaned as you slammed down hard on him making the chair creek under the pressure. "Aahh....aahh yes....L..loki!!...." you cried out as your orgasm slammed into you hard clenching around him "aahh gods y..y/n.." he growled pushing you down onto him holding you there spilling inside you. You laid your head on his shoulder trying to catch your breath feeling him stroke your hair. "So that's a yes then?" He asked making you laugh "y...yes sir." You sat back smiling. You slowly pulled off of him feeling a strange tingle between your thighs. "It's ok, I just cleaned you my seidr so you are not uncomfortable before you can shower." He said smiling. "Thank you sir." You said standing up.

You watched Loki tuck himself back in standing up "You go change into your normal clothes, we'll get everything." He winked slapping your ass as you turned around. You came back out holding the hangers, Loki took them from you grabbing your bag opening the door for you as you made your way to the register. Once everything was paid for you headed back out to his car, opening the door for you you slid inside hearing him place the bag in the trunk. You sat looking out the window as the thoughts of the day returned. "Sir. Can I ask you something?" You said looking at him. "Of course." He said smiling. "W..when I finish school...are you..." you trailed off "ending the arrangement?" He finished glancing at you seeing you nod. "Pet, our arrangement doesn't expire, it's as long as you or i wish it. If when you finish school we both wish to continue then we shall." He said smiling.

You nodded looking back out the window when you pulled up to your building. He got out opening your door for you before popping the trunk handing you your bags. "Listen y/n, you needn't worry. As of now I don't plan on going anywhere ok?" He said looking at you. "Ok sir, me either." You said smiling. "Good, now go get some sleep and I'll see you friday." He said kissing the top of your head as he got back in his car, waving at you as he drove off. You sighed pulling your keys out heading upstairs. You sat your bag on the table hanging your coat up heading to your room. You sat on the bed looking through your phone deciding sleep sounded good. You slipped your clothes off sliding under the blankets turning the light off.

You closed your eyes, letting sleep take you from your reality, you were falling for Loki Laufeyson.....

💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚

@vbecker10 @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @el-zef @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @123forgottherest @lovebyloki @javagirl328 @loopsisloops @high-functioning-lokipath @immersed-in-mischief @chantsdemarins @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @midnights-ramblings @slpnbty2001 @angelaf1978 @sinsandguilt @usagishira @xorpsbane @lokifriggadottir365 @your-taste-on-my-lips @asgardianprincess1050 @cakesandtom @agentandreastark @sekaishell @dukes2581 @aniar4wniak @spork-fighter @stupidthoughtsinwriting @d1a2n389 @hypergamer7744 @buttercupbestie @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lokiprompts @daggers-and-mischief @kats72 @mochie85 @commanding-officer @lokis-coffee221 @huntress-artemiss @limiworld @lulubelle814 @idfkgabby @glitterylokislut @highkeysimpingforloki @myworldgoesboomz @lonadane @budugu @cloud-of-daisies @all-envy-suyu

[wardenparker]

Killer Writing - chapter 3

Dave York x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After divorcing Carol so she could marry her soulmate, Dave York threw himself into his work. There is no way he could have predicted that the unexpected collateral damage on an op would turn out to be his soulmate. Now all he can do is keep you safe, and try his best to get you to not hate him as the two of you try to navigate a blooming relationship that started out with threats and a mean right hook.  

Rating: Mature Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: *Blanket content warning for self-esteem, self-image, and weight issues.* Mentions of family member deaths and domestic abuse, soft Dave deserves a warning all his own. Blink and you miss it masturbation reference, a ton of awkward flirting, cheeky bit of nudity (m), things are starting to heat up. Summary: As their time together marches forward, the soulmates are starting to get to know each other a little better. Dave steps out of his comfort zone to make a grand gesture and you start to open up a bit more. Notes: Our love letter to our fellow tumblrinas continues to grow! Dreaming is what it’s all about, my darlings - and in soulmate aus those dreams can come true. Soft Dave is a dreamboat for the ages.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

You woke up the next morning smelling him - after a bit of good natured bickering you had agreed to take the bed like he originally offered, and the smell of him lingered in his pillows and sheets in a way that was completely overwhelming in a beautiful sort of way. You had showered and dressed quickly, throwing on a blouse and jeans with your slippers to walk around the apartment without your feet turning to icicles. Dave had already put on a kettle of water for your tea and gave you some teasing grief about your breakfast cereal, but the morning was mostly calm. You managed to even forget for a little while that you were hiding for your life. 

The afternoon was silent, like the morning of the day before. He worked and you read, but this time you curled into the corner of his couch without much fear. There was still a lot to learn about him - namely the things that would upset him or cross some invisible line - but your mug of tea on a coaster on the coffee table and bare feet tucked under a blanket on the couch were safe enough. At some point around sunset he emerged, looking tired and annoyed. “Hey,” you murmur, not wanting to startle him if he looked over and had forgotten you were there.

“Hey.” He brings his hand up to rub his temple, the bureaucratic bullshit that went with his job always managed to give him a headache. He shuffles towards the kitchen for another cup of coffee. “Enjoying your book?” He asks, opening the cabinet and grabbing a clean mug.

“It’s my favorite.” You wave the paperback in the air a little even though he’s too far away to see it unless he has some kind of supervision.

“What’s it about?” He lifts a brow even as he is pouring the coffee and waits to see where your reading habits run.

“1930s gothic romance. Inexperienced young woman falling in love with a mysterious older man who is possibly a murderer and definitely has lots of secrets.” You rattle off the synopsis you give anyone who asks, only realizing belatedly that it sounds very suspiciously close to a weird description of the two of you, even if you aren’t that much younger than him.

“Hmmmm.” He doesn’t comment on it, instead taking a sip of his coffee and sighing. The knock on the door doesn’t startle him and he doesn’t move. “Will you get the door?” He asks, seemingly content to drink his coffee.

“Will I—?” You look at him like he has four heads. Aren’t you supposed to be hiding? Like no one can know you’re here hiding? But he doesn’t seem bothered at all, so you put down your book and pad over to the door in confusion.

There’s no one at the door. He had left very specific instructions that the delivery was to be left at the door. So he knew that you wouldn’t be seen when you opened it. He doesn’t wait for your reaction, instead he takes his coffee and makes his way back to his office and wonders if you will think his gifts are corny. He had spent way too much time thinking about it in his opinion.

Carefully unlocking the door, you pull it open to find no one there. You look around for a second before finally looking down. On the hall rug in front of the door is an overflowing vase of definitely more than a dozen red roses and a woven basket tied up in coloured cellophane and ribbon. You would have immediately assumed it was dropped off at the wrong apartment, except the tag on the basket says ‘Sweetheart’ and you feel a little mix of mortification and an absolute tightening in your chest that makes you clutch at your sweater reflexively. 

You pick both things up, bringing them inside and closing the door behind you, careful to re-engage the locks before carrying the not-at-all little gifts to the kitchen island. You could easily call for him, ask him to come out into the room, but you kind of want to do this alone. Slipping the ribbon, the wrapping falls away easily and the basket inside is overflowing: fat candles, some of them in jars with artistic illustrations of the flowers they're scented for and some deeply coloured to evoke dreamlike romance; a dark brown teddy bear - the colour of his hair, though you doubt he realizes it - with a little felt heart sewn between its paws; and a little square box tied up in another ribbon. Your hands are practically shaking by the time you get to the little box, tears pressing at the back of your eyes at how out of his way Dave has gone for you. Lifting the lid, you're face-to-face with a necklace, its pendent a silver heart accented with a single sparkling rhinestone.

It's almost too much. It is too much. But it's also perfect. You huff at it all, flushing hot, and you can feel the grin splitting your face like a smitten schoolgirl. Taking the necklace out of its box, you're grateful to find that the chain is long enough for you to wear comfortably and you pull the teddy bear out to set down against the vase of flowers before going down the hall. 

"Hey," your voice is soft when you knock on the open door frame to his office. "Um...so..." What do you even say? Thank you doesn't seem like enough. And he obviously didn't have to do it, so there's no need to point that out. Instead you let yourself keep grinning and shove your hands into your pants like you always do when you're nervous or embarrassed. "I–I...it's beautiful," you tell him when you can form a full sentence. "Thank you."

His eyes linger on the chain, surprised that you’ve already put it on, but happy you have. “You’re welcome.” He murmurs quietly. “It looks nice on you.” He tells you, nodding towards the necklace.

"I don't normally wear necklaces," you admit, leaving out that the reason is because you can hardly ever find ones with chains long enough for you to wear comfortably. "But I think I'll keep this one on for a while." You honestly have no intention of taking it off. Especially not with the tingling, vibrating way you feel right now. 

He grins, amazed that after everything he can be this thrilled that you like a necklace that he had picked out. “Good. Diamonds are a girl's best friend according to all the commercials.”

Your hand flies up to the necklace, surprise painted on your face and you know you look like a deer in headlights. You had assumed it was a rhinestone. Glass or cubic zirconia at absolute most. Of course not. It's actually a diamond. You almost shake your head. Apparently Dave York didn't do things by half. "Do you want to watch a movie with dinner again?" It's a meek suggestion, after the extraordinary gesture he's just made, but you want him to know that you want to spend time with him.

He nods, the headache retreating and the nervous energy dissipated now that he knows he didn’t overstep. “That sounds good. Whatever you have on the stove smells amazing.” He compliments, his stomach rumbling slightly as it reminds him that he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

"Beef stew." You shrug a little. "Family recipe...I thought it would be nice since it's been so cold lately." You'd gotten it started and just basked in the familiar smell while you read, thankfully he was enjoying it as well. "Hopefully you like it."

He groans and nods. “You didn’t happen to get any of those frozen yeast rolls when you ordered the groceries, did you?” He couldn’t remember and the idea of dipping hot rolls into stew was making his mouth water.

"You can't have beef stew without warm bread," you inform him as though it were some kind of ancient wisdom. It was odd to see which things lined up between you and which things were very different.

“That’s a fact.” Dave agrees. “Despite having to run more miles, it’s worth every fucking bite.”

"At the risk of sounding too Florence Henderson, dinner will be ready in half an hour." You offer him a smile, fingers still toying with the chain around your neck. "Unless you have a lot more work to do?"

“I’m done.” He closes his laptop and pushes back from his desk. “Do you have a movie in mind?” He asks as he comes around the furniture and walks towards you. “Any favorites that you saw on the list?”

He had shown you his hard drive full of movies last night and you had been surprised to note a few romances in amongst the mostly fantasy and sci-fi options with a few classic action movies. His taste in period films was actually amazing, and there were some good mysteries in there as well. "Murder on the Orient Express?" You suggest, not wanting to go with anything loud or jarring when the tone for the night was starting out sweet and even, you had to admit it, romantic. But going all the way to a love story seemed like pushing it too much.

“Whatever you want.” He pauses and sends you a teasing grin. “Added Hallmark to my streaming channels. It seemed like you’d like it and Lifetime.”

Part of you wants to bury your head in the sand so he won't see the absolute mortification on your face about how right he is, but the other part can't get enough of how sweet he is. This man is the antithesis of his job. It's an amazing juxtaposition. "I'm not going to force you into love stories every night," you tell him, trying for teasing, but you mean it.

“I don’t mind the sweet stuff.” He admits, his turn to look slightly embarrassed. “Reminds me of the good in the world when I normally see the worst.”

"Then tomorrow I'm picking out a very cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie," you tease, grinning a little at the way he blushes. It's incredibly cute and you don't mind admitting it. "It's almost Christmas anyway. It's seasonally appropriate."

He frowns at the mention of Christmas. “You haven’t mentioned family.” He says quietly.

"You haven't either. It didn't seem relevant." You step into his office for the first time, dropping down in the chair on the other side of his desk. "It's just me and my dad." He's easy to talk to, and you wonder again if it's the soulmate connection or if it's something else. "My mom died when I was a kid." 

He nods. “I wish I could tell you that you could call him, but it’s safer that you don’t. Just in case.” He knows this is hard for you, being here and having no control over your life. “They don’t think anyone is looking for you, but we need to be certain. Word of your boss’s death isn’t public yet.”

"Okay." You assumed you wouldn't be able to call, but it didn't make it hurt less. Dad would worry. And if he didn't hear from you, he would start to raise hell. "I just...wish I could send him a card or something. He'd be the one to file a missing person's report, if anyone even notices I'm gone."

“If he starts calling your phone a lot, I’ll get a burner you can use.” Dave promises. He knows that you are completely unused to this kind of thing, going weeks without talking to someone you care about.

"Thanks," you nod, knowing it's still a little risky. "What about you?" 

“Family?” Dave asks, and you nod. “Gone. Dad died when I was a kid. Firefighter, killed in the line of duty. Mom remarried but the fucker was evil.” His brows push together and he scowls. “He beat her to death after I left for boot camp. Couldn’t convince her to leave him.”

"Shit...I'm so sorry..." You wish you hadn't asked, only so he wouldn't have to live through telling you and thinking about it all over again. Grasping at something - anything - that might make him feel better, you offer him the most supportive expression you can. "If you want...we could do something? Even if I'm not still here." Christmas is just over two weeks away, and you had no idea what would happen between now and then, but the way you felt right now? You would be glad to celebrate with your soulmate.

“It’s okay.” He sees the horror on your face at finding out his mom was gone. Knows that you are probably beating yourself up for mentioning it, even though you had every right to know. “That’s – I know you will want to see your dad. It’s okay. I normally spend Christmas working on something that doesn’t make me feel like I’m a complete monster.”

Huffing slightly, your fingers pick at each other in your lap and your head tilts a little while you try to figure out why he's saying no. After the delivery to the front door twenty minutes ago, you don't think he doesn't like you - or that his compliments are sarcastic or cruel jokes. You don't want to force him to do anything, obviously, but he deserves to know you're not just being polite. "I can't also want to spend some of Christmas with my soulmate?"

It’s his turn to look away, staring at the bookshelf and his ears turning red. “I – I have plans.” He admits. “I volunteer at the VFW serving meals to vets with nowhere to go. Delivering meals to those that can’t leave their houses.” He doesn’t know why he’s embarrassed to admit that, it’s a good thing. But it’s not something he advertises. Knowing that, like a lot of them, he feels abandoned too. By life, by the government, so he tries to atone for some of his sins.

The way your chest clenches a little feels suspiciously like heartache. Like the urge to go over and wrap your arms around this man and promise him that he's not alone anymore. It's obvious that he's lonely, at least to you, and you wish you could alleviate some of that since you're only one room over. "My point," you keep looking at him, waiting for him to turn back to you but he doesn't. "Is that...the way I feel about you right now...I'd like to continue getting to know you. Spend time with you when I'm not hiding for my life. It doesn't matter if it's Christmas, or New Years, or just any random day."

His shoulders relax a little, spine slumping and he’s glad you didn’t give him some ‘I’m so proud of you’ bullshit like anyone else might have. “I’d like that.” He says, turning back to you only after he’s back in control of his emotions and his face is set. “When you aren’t hiding for your life. Although, laying around reading and writing sounds like a vacation for you.” He tells you with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “You can always add kidnapping to your stories.”

"It's not exactly how I would have chosen to take time off," you mumble, but it's with a sheepish smile. If left to your own devices, you would never take a break at all. Except for your friends on the internet and seeing you dad once in a while, there was no one else to spend time with. You had always been too introverted to do drinks out with any of the women at the lab. "But the company is good. And the possibility of a little inspiration." Like maybe actually being able to write accurately about a fucking kiss for the first time ever.

He lifts a brow at that comment. “What? Planning on writing a book about the fascinating life of an assassin?”

"I write romances, Dave." It was the most accurate way to describe the hundreds of pages of fanfic you had produced as an adult - as if it hadn't been obvious enough that that was the entire focus of your life. "There's enough inspiration on that kitchen island out there to last me a long time."

“Romances.” He toys with the word, not bringing up the obvious flaw that he saw in the situation. If you had no experience, how could you accurately write about it? Although pleasure sizzled in his gut from your admittance that what he had done was romantic. “Can I read some of them?”

Oh. You have to quickly spin through the rolodex of your fandoms to see if there was anything you could show him that wasn't obviously fan fiction, figuring he would find the entire idea to be immature even though that was a bullshit argument that you had had with anonymous strangers so many times you could win it with your eyes closed. "Sure," you nod, landing on a few things you had written recently that were alternate universes of stories he probably wouldn't recognize. "If you want to. Except..." you want to evaporate into yourself, but you're not ashamed of the words you've written. It's just embarrassing to admit out loud. "They're not exactly...PG rated."

He snorts, shaking his head. “God I hope not.” He jokes. “I’ll fall asleep.” He shoots you an amused look. “I watch porn for Christ’s sake. I’ve been married. Carol used to read….what the fuck was it? 50 Shades of Black or some shit like that.” He chuckles. “Although she would never admit to her Captain America fan fiction addiction.” 

"Grey," you correct immediately, even though you've never even read them. The last part of what he said is much more important. "She...your wife...read fanfic?" The terrible, horrible panic in your stomach that he may have already read some of your stuff makes you clamp your mouth shut nervously. Your Marvel phase was very early on, but it was definitely all Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter.

Dave nods. “Yeah, after the first movie came out, she fell into that pit.” He grins. “Practically threw her phone when I caught her reading one day. But I don’t judge. It’s whatever gets you off.” He shrugs, wondering why women are always so sensitive about it. “No different than the bullshit stories men come up with how they had this wild night with this hot chick. Totally full of shit, but if you can jerk off to it, whatever.” He tilts his head. “I guess men are just more visual where women are more mental.”

The kitchen timer is your angel of mercy, loudly alerting you that the stew is done cooking and you practically leap out of your chair. "Dinner," you explain needlessly. He knows what a damn kitchen timer is for. "I'll go preheat the oven for the rolls..." You practically flee his office, the idea that his ex-wife might have read your shit depending on which sites she used mixed with exactly how hard you were trying to keep yourself from imagining him masturbating meant you needed to go clear your head.

“Hmm.” He grins at your back. The way that you practically flee makes him wonder if he had hit a nerve. He follows you out slowly, watching you move around in the kitchen nervously. “So I take it your stories are fan fiction too?”

You huff, letting the cabinet you were searching in for a baking sheet clap closed as you throw him a pout. "Maybe." It's actually relieving, that he's aware of it as a genre and doesn't seem to care, but you still feel caught at the same time.

“Cool.” He leans against the island and watches you. “Most of that shit is better than published authors.”

"Yeah?" It's even more surprising to hear him praise it in a way that makes it obvious he's read some. You open the next cabinet over and pull out the baking sheet you've been searching for before looking back at him curiously. "What have you read?"

“I’ve read some Black Widow stories.” He admits, totally unashamed. You snort at the obvious answer and he chuckles. “There was this one story, fuck– it was dark but kind of fucking hot. Set around the darker porn industry. Where the girl was kidnapped and forced into making movies but fell for the men who had chosen her. She was their ‘pet’ and they were possessive of her.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know what that might say, but the psychoanalysis of that would be interesting.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, putting the tray of rolls together and popping it into the oven. "None of my stuff is that kinky," you admit, though you're sure he's not surprised. "Sorry to disappoint."

“Well damn.” He teases, giving you a small wink. “Maybe later on they will be.”

You're not fast enough to cover the small squeak-like noise that comes out of your mouth and you quickly turn away again to wash your hands and grab the hand towel hanging off the oven handle. "Who knows," you mumble into the candle you've just picked up to smell.

He chuckles at your reaction. “Okay,” he gives you a dramatic sigh, “I’ll be good.” Deciding to leave you alone, he walks over to the couch to flop down with a sigh. “You can set the candles around the apartment and light them if you want.”

It occurs to you that you don't actually want to discourage him, even though he has the ability to make you want to melt through the floor when he teases you like that. It's fun. And it's...honestly kind of hot when you're not busy being mortified. You reset the kitchen timer, pull the stew off the burner, and grab one of the more lightly scented candles to carry into the living room. Setting it on the coffee table, you sit down next to him carefully. "You gotta ease me into it," you tell him quietly. "I can write flirting, but I have no idea how to do it in real life."

Dave moves his feet so you have more room and chuckles. “Sweetheart, that is obvious.” He tells you, not unkindly, just teasing you some more. “I’m sorry if I’m too blunt for you. It’s just the way that I am but I have dialed it back for you sake already. But, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He tells you sincerely. “It's been awhile since I’ve flirted with someone and it’s different with you.”

"This is the dialed back version?" Your eyebrows raise up in surprise but you have to chuckle at that. Of course it is. Dave is blunt. In everything. "I know I'm not what you expected for a soulmate. Or wanted. Just give me time, okay? I'll get there." You know what different means. You've heard you're different enough times in your life to know it's not a compliment. But it is what it is. He's not everything you thought your soulmate would be and you're not what he expected, either. You would both have to accept that.

He cocks his head at you. “You keep saying that you aren’t what I expected or wanted. Why?” He is genuinely confused about that. “You’re smart, kind - I mean, you didn’t kick me in the balls. Which I thank you for. You are creative, considerate and sexy.” He ticks off. “What am I missing?”

You scrub one hand over your cheek, deciding to leave the issue of your body image aside since he didn't seem to mind having a bigger girl around. "The decision I made..." your voice trails off and your eyes train down at your knees so you don't have to see it on his face that you're right. "I thought it was the right one to make but now that I've met you and I know you a little...you shouldn't be stuck with someone who has no idea what they're doing. You're...well...experienced. And I don't want you to feel beholden to teaching me, or anything like that. I never thought about the fact that my decision to wait would affect my soulmate so directly."

Dave’s eyes widen and he can’t help but laugh. Your head jerks up and he holds his hands up when he sees the hurt look in your eyes. “Sweetheart, you obviously don’t have a fucking clue what you are talking about.” He sits up and doesn’t let you shift away, inching closer to you. “Other men, sure, they might have an issue with you not being experienced but I don’t.” He admits, his dark eyes gazing into yours. “Fuck– I love the idea of watching you experience things for the first time. Deciding what you like, what you don’t.” He makes a small noise, close to a moan. “If you decided you want to be with me, I’d be the happiest fucking teacher you’d ever had in your life.”

"I don't have a fucking clue," you agree, but the flush of heat through your body can't deny how badly you want to learn. How you do want him to be the one to teach you. And that fucking noise he made is doing things to you that you didn't know noises could do. "Which makes my fanfic career ironic at best...and my approach to pretty much everything in life incredibly awkward."

“Awkward is fine.” Dave tells you. “Awkward happens. Life is like sex, it’s messy, it’s honestly not as delicate and pretty as people make it out to be.” He shakes his head. “As long as you don’t fart in my face when I’m going down on you like my high school girlfriend did, we are good.”

You cover your face with both hands, mostly to stifle the laughter, but also to hide the sigh of relief. Dave is blunt. But Dave is nice. And...frankly Dave is pretty fucking hot. So his method of comforting you is actually pretty effective. "I'll do my best," you promise him, letting yourself giggle out loud.

He laughs with you, admitting now that it was funny, although his seventeen-year-old self hadn’t thought so at the time. “Just don’t get inside your own head. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you.”

"If you say so." You nod slightly, not wanting to have that conversation right now. In the highly unlikely event that you ever did end up without clothing on around him, you could just shut off the light. The thing was, though, that as far as you were concerned it wouldn't be any man. It would be him. Because you hadn't made this promise to yourself almost 20 years ago just to throw it out the window now. You don't say so, not wanting to pressure him, and your fingers come up to toy with your new necklace again.

“We have to work on your self confidence.” Dave tells you, leaning back against the sofa cushions and watching you fidget. “Who’s the fucker that told you that you aren’t gorgeous? I’ll knock his fucking teeth in.”

"Turn on the tv," you shrug, pushing in on yourself a little harder. "You don't have to be a genius to know that anyone over a size 6 isn't worth looking at."

“That’s not true at all.” Dave argues, frowning at you. “Yeah there’s that stereotypical skinny chick who’s ‘hot’.” He actually makes the air quotes with his fingers. “But her tits are fake, her thighs hurt when they are wrapped around your waist, she can’t take a good fucking, and worst…..she won’t eat wings and drink beer with you.”

“That’s what’s worst?” Shaking your head at him is going to become a habit.

Dave grins. “’I’ll just have a salad, thanks.’.” He mimics a female voice. “That’s just a sin. Man shall not live on rabbit food alone.”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes at him, smiling, feeling the warmth of him beside you and sinking into it happily. “But I do like salad, for the record.”

“And that’s fine.” He agrees, pushing his sock clad foot up under your thigh and nudging you with a victorious grin. “But not all the time. Sometimes, you just have to have some cake.”

The kitchen timer sounds again, and you wish you could just lean over and kiss him casually on your way into the kitchen. It feels…almost normal. Like you’re supposed to be here instead of hiding out. “Dinner,” you push yourself off the couch and resist the urge to reach for him.

“I’ll turn on the movie and grab our drinks.” Dave offers, sitting up and wishing that the conversation had continued a little longer. He enjoyed it, it has been a long time since he has been this honest. You didn’t seem to weigh his every word to see if he was being truthful or not. Unless he was mistaken, you had seemingly accepted his job and weren’t holding it against him. It was nice. He had never told Carol what he did, never subjecting her to the knowledge but the fates had determined his soulmate would know everything.

At this point you had already forgotten what you had agreed to watch, forgotten what you’d talked about drinking, and barely even remembered what you were eating even though you were the one that cooked it. You just had this shaken instinct to want to be next to him. Your soulmate connection. In this moment you weren’t even sure if you wanted that myth to be real, or if you wanted to believe he liked you for you, not just because of your marks. You toss the rolls into a basket, ladle out two bowls of stew, and grab flatware to join him back on the couch where he has already put down napkins next to two glasses of scotch. Right. You smile. The scotch.

Dave starts the movie and picks up his bowl of stew and inhales the aroma, moaning in appreciation. “God this is going to be good. I can already tell.” He looks over at you with a smile. “Thank you sweetheart.”

“Welcome,” you fluster, not even bothering to hide it, and sit back to focus on the tv while you eat. He’s sitting a lot closer to you tonight and it’s distracting as hell. You might have to write a little tomorrow. A good snuggle session on the couch for your characters to work through how much you want to curl into his side.

Your stew is delicious. Dave doesn’t even bother to hide how much he likes it, moaning when he tastes it and breaking up a roll to sop up the juice. “Jesus.” He groans, finally finished after going back for a second bowl. “I’m going to have to roll my ass to the bathroom to brush my teeth tonight.”

“Am I supposed to apologize?” When he settles back on the couch he’s an inch closer to you, and you’re practically buzzing. “Because I’m not going to.”

“No.” Dave moans slightly and unbuttons his jeans, enjoying the inch of extra room for his overly full stomach. “I’m just bitching because I have the self control of a gnat.”

You swallow thickly the second his hands go near his jeans, focusing your eyes squarely on the second half of the movie. “I’ll make something healthy tomorrow,” you promise. “Even it out.”

He grumbles at that but nods. “Okay. Rabbit food tomorrow.”

“I didn’t say rabbit food, I just said healthy.” You nudge him, giggling when he makes an oof noise even though you know there’s no chance you could hurt him.

“Isn’t it the same thing?” He asks, enjoying the sound of your giggle. Now that he’s full, he’s getting sleepy. Rolling his head to the side and looking at you with heavy eyes.

“No,” you shake your head at him, the movie forgotten when you turn your head to see his own hanging close. Close enough to make your heart rabbit in your chest and you try not just jump ahead of yourself. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

“I trust you.” He agrees. Sighing slightly, his eyes start to flutter, wanting to close. He fights to keep them open but it only takes another fifteen seconds before he’s asleep, body relaxing into the sofa.

You’d be lying if you claimed not to be disappointed, feeling dumb for thinking he might kiss you, but you let him sleep. Cleaning up quietly, you get the dishes into the washer, leftovers put away, and spread the spare blanket on the sofa over him before you grab your teddy bear and sneak silently into his room to sleep.

******

He can’t believe he fell asleep. Shaking his head as he gets out of the shower, he reaches for his towel. He didn’t think you would run. No, you had proven you wouldn’t because he had given you plenty of opportunity to. More than he would give anyone else because you are his soulmate, but he honestly thought you were staying because you know you are safe with him. However, he hadn’t realized he felt comfortable enough around you to fall asleep before you did. With Carol, it had been years before he would fall asleep before her, even then he would wake at every little sound. You had cleaned up from dinner and covered him with a blanket before leaving to go sleep in his bed.

Walking through the bedroom to get in the shower, his shower, he had smiled when he saw you sleeping. Sprawled out in his bed with your arms curled around the teddy bear that he had gotten you. The scene was innocent and yet sexy enough, your leg pushed out from under the covers and your plain cotton panties in full view, that he had to bite his lip when he jerked off, smothering his moan when he came in the shower.

******

It was good to not have nightmares tonight. Last night had been hard to handle, nightmares about that morning keeping you from getting good rest.

Last night, your dreams were far different. Curled into Dave’s side on the couch. Apple picking. Scouring the liquor store for a particular bottle of something and teasing each other. Falling asleep next to him - another thing you had never done with anyone before. You wake up from the dream gently, the sound of the shower dragging you into wakefulness without realizing what it really is. Floating in that space between dream and awake, you almost don’t even realize your eyes are opening when he emerges from the bathroom, damp and bare with only a towel wrapped around his waist. You clamp your eyes shut, desperate not to stare and desperately hoping he didn’t notice you’re awake. He’s fucking beautiful and you’re holding your damn breath against the pillow so you don’t make a sound in reaction to find this out. Broad, strong shoulders with just a dusting of hair on his chest and a trail of it leading down under the towel that makes you clench around nothing, soaking your panties almost instantly. Just a hint of softness at the middle and muscled everywhere, you know you’re going to spend the rest of eternity wondering what’s under that towel. Well damn…

Dave pads quietly through the bedroom, softly opening the drawers to pull out a pair of boxers. He turns to see that you are still buried in your pillow before he drops the towel and starts pulling on his underwear.

Oh dear god. You should not have peaked. Absolutely not have peaked. How can such a tiny ass look that good? If he turns even a little you're so screwed...

He opens another drawer and pulls out a t-shirt, now completely aware that you are awake. He had noticed your breathing had changed from when you were asleep when he came into the bedroom. Another pair of sweats are pulled on since he’s still in the house with you. Bending down to pick up his towel, he doesn’t turn towards the bed, instead heading to the door. “Glad you enjoyed the show, sweetheart. Your tea will be ready when you get done squirming in embarrassment.” He tells you before he walks out, pulling the door shut behind him.

This is how I die. You sink into the mattress in mortification, eyes pinched shut and face shoved into the pillow trying to pretend that didn't just happen. Dead of embarrassment. Ambushed by sexy soulmate after shower. You might as well face the music, since it's day three of two weeks together, but dragging yourself out of his bed might be the most embarrassed you've ever been in your life - and that has some serious competitors. You pull on your lounge pants and throw your worn hoodie over the t-shirt you slept in, figuring you'll shower after breakfast. Slipping into the bathroom to brush your hair and teeth, you take a minute to breathe before you shuffle out into the kitchen as the single most flustered person on the planet.

Dave chuckles when he catches sight of your mortified face. Turning back to the stove to put the kettle back on it to cool down after pouring your cup. “That took about twenty minutes less than I expected.” He admits before he sets the tea in front of the bowl of cereal he’s already poured for you.

"The longer I stay in there and pretend you didn't catch me, the more awkward it gets," you mumble, sitting down at the island and trying not to smile too widely at the way he's set out your breakfast.

“If it makes you feel better, I was definitely looking at your ass before I got in the shower.” He says easily, taking another sip of his coffee and waiting for his bagel to pop up out of the toaster.

Your eyes widen slightly and you busy yourself with milk for your tea and cereal, not having any idea how to react to that. It's good, you suppose, that he finds you attractive. Since the universe stuck him with you. But also the last time someone saw you sleeping like that was your college roommate, so the difference between her and him is a big one.

Dave chuckles again before the bagels pop up. Pulling them out and hissing a curse when he burns his finger, he shoves it in his mouth to suck on while he moves to the fridge to grab the cream cheese. He pulls his finger out of his mouth when he gets back to his plate and opens the container to start spreading the chive and onion spread on his breakfast. “Eventually I’ll get you to enjoy the compliments.” He tells you conversationally. “I think it’s a good thing that I had to jerk off because I saw the pink flowered panties you are wearing. Don’t you?”

"You...?" You shove your spoon into your cereal bowl and drop your face into your hands, feeling exactly how hot your face is turning. You're not brave enough to actually look up at him, but shake your head in your hands and blow out a long breath on a whisper. "Ooooh my..."

He smirks, putting the cream cheese back up and grabbing his plate and coffee cup, he walks around the island and leans in to whisper in your ear. “Write that in one of your stories, sweetheart. The hard-hearted assassin hopelessly attracted to the innocent bystander and his desires get the best of him.” He pulls away and kisses the side of your head as if it’s something he’s done everyday for years. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Turning on his heel, he disappears down the hall.

"Oh my fucking god," you mumble at yourself, groaning as you dig your spoon back into your cereal. It would be completely useless to deny how much you want him at this point, with your fingers wisping over the bit of your skin that his lips just touched and wishing like hell it had been a real kiss. You would just have to get through this day being continually mortified and tamping down the insistent need to get yourself off. Somehow you feel like you'd be even more embarrassed if you did that, which makes no sense whatsoever.

In his office Dave wonders what you are doing. Are you frozen in mortification? Did he go too far? His tendency to be blunt could be to his detriment if he wasn’t careful. But damned if he didn’t want you. He had poked around your laptop before giving it to you, figuring out your site where you post your stories and had no intention of actually working. No, the morning was going to be spent reading what you had written and getting a better insight into what his pretty, inexperienced soulmate wanted.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics

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[egcdeath]

an apple a day

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader

summary: it seems like an apple a day couldn’t keep the doctor or ransom away.

warnings: sickfic, a lot of fluff, brief mention of throwing up

word count: 2k

author’s note: join my taglist if you’d like! all feedback is appreciated <3

Ransom

U busy?

4:37 PM

Ransom

😏🍆😈

4:38 PM

Ransom

Wow ignoring me?????

5:24 PM

Ransom

Bitch

5:34 PM

Ransom

🙄

5:36 PM

A frantic pounding on your front door pulled you from a bizarre dream within your feverish slumber. You peeled the slightly damp cloth that rest upon your face from your sweaty skin, and lazily tossed it to the floor before audibly groaning. 

“Coming,” you whimpered out, hoping that it was loud enough for whomever was at the door.

“Fuckin’ better be,” a voice grumbled as a response.

You rolled over slightly, whole body sore from the sickness that was currently ailing you, and willed yourself to get off of your sofa. Swinging your legs over the left side of the piece of furniture you managed to get up, and sluggishly made your way to the door, ignoring the ache of your neck from resting it on an arm rest.

It seemed like with every step you took, your sinus headache throbbed harder between your eyes, and your fever cooked you a bit more from the inside out.

After what felt like a lifetime, you got to your door and opened it, only to be greeted by your… well, you didn’t really know what he was to you.

“Christ, Y/N. You look like shit,” Ransom commented, raising his brows. “Did you get hit by a car or something?”

You gave him a blank look, and said nothing. 

“Is this a bad time?”

“What do you think, dickhead?” 

“You’ve had better days,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Okay, goodbye,” you rolled your eyes and slammed the door on him, finding yourself slightly out of breath as you lethargically shuffled away.

You collapsed back onto the sofa, and reached for a blue tissue box that sat on your coffee table. Did that even happen? Did you imagine Ransom coming to your door? Or was that part of your fever dream?

Settling back, and pulling a wool blanket over yourself, you began to doze off once again, not really having the energy to do anything else.

Ransom

I’m s-word

6:12 PM

Ransom

I’m not gonna say it

6:13 PM

Ransom

But you know what I mean

6:15 PM

Ransom

I’m coming back over baby

6:17 PM

You hadn’t even noticed the vibrating of your phone, as it was currently lodged under a mountain of pillows and cushions. It also helped that you were asleep once again.

This time when you woke up, Ransom was in your apartment, rambling about some encounter he had while he was out dealing with the public for you.

How was he even in your apartment? You felt like you missed a few steps.

“Sit up,” he commanded, setting down a plastic take-out bag, along with the spare keys you kept under your welcome mat on top of your coffee table, before dragging a seat from your kitchen into your living room. 

The seat finally came to a stop in front of you, and you listlessly sat up. You watched as Ransom wordlessly opened the bag, revealing a massive container of a clear broth soup, and an equally large baguette.

“Am I dreaming?” You asked aloud.

“Why would you be dreaming? ‘Cause I did something nice? Or because I’m that hot?”

“Because I have a high fever that’s making me delusional,” you told him, and his brows furrowed once again. 

“Let me see,” he mumbled, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead, and humming in thought, “Yeah, you’re pretty hot,” he agreed.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you mumbled, a random churn in your stomach suddenly taking a huge blow out of you. 

“Hey, I did a good thing for you. Don’t get bitchy with me now,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes slightly at you. 

You sighed as a response, and Ransom gave you a little smirk before going to open the lid of the soup container. 

“Open up wide, Beloved,” Ransom said in a playful tone. If you had the energy, you’d shoot something sassy back at him, but you were finding yourself in less of a state to do so with every passing moment. You simply followed along with his orders, opening your lips so Ransom could deliver a little spoonful of soup into your mouth. 

“Mm,” you audibly reacted to the liquid, “did you make this yourself?”

“Hm, you must be sicker than I thought,” he chuckled and dabbed the edge of your lip where a droplet of soup was left behind. “I picked it up on my way back over.”

“It’s really good,” you hummed, “feed me more.” 

Ransom scoffed fondly, “you’re lucky I like you.” He began, dishing out another spoonful to you.

You paused to chew on a softened carrot, “you should’ve known that sick me’s demands of you were gonna be a lot more.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, and went back to feeding you. You were both quiet for a moment, maintaining a heavy eye contact while he fed you, until out of the blue, your stomach turned. 

Your mouth filled with saliva as you realized what exactly was going on, and you rushed off of the couch with an obscene swiftness, just barely making it to your bathroom before you were emptying your stomach into it.

Ransom quickly showed up behind you, making his presence known by lifting your hair out of your face, and rubbing supportive circles onto your back. He cringed as he listened to you heave into the bowl, and when you finally leaned back, he used a thumb to wipe away the few tears that had begun to slip down your face. 

“You okay?” he questioned, squatting down to your level.

“Just peachy,” you choked out hoarsely.

“Maybe you’ll feel better after a shower?” he suggested, flushing your sickness down the toilet while you attempted to catch your breath.

“Okay, yeah,” you began hesitantly.

“I’ll stay in here if you want me to make sure nothing bad happens?”

“You just wanna be a perv,” you weakly giggled.

“I’m just trying to be a supportive… I’m trying to be supportive,” Ransom found his way back up, and turned on the shower’s nozzle.

“Mhm, I’m sure,” you began kicking off your sweatpants when you heard the water begin to putter down, and gestured for Ransom to help you lift off your sweatshirt once he was facing you once again. 

“I can’t believe you’re using up the last of that energy to have an attitude with me,” Ransom pulled you out of your shirt, then helped you up and began to direct you toward the shower. 

You were more or less silent from there on out, focusing on maintaining your balance in the slippery room. Your brain seemed to become increasingly cloudy with every extra puff of steam. You leaned against the slightly warm tiles of your wall as you attempted to get through the genuinely hellish shower for a few minutes before deciding it wasn’t really worth it, and stumbling back out. 

“Was I right? Did it help?” Ransom asked after your period of silence, handing you some fresh clothing that he’d grabbed from your closet sometime between the time you got in and out of the shower. 

You shook your head, “shower kinda made everything worse,” you muttered, pulling a new shirt over your head. “My head is killing me. I think I just need to be in a dark room, or go back to sleep, or something.”

You sluggishly pulled on the rest of your clothes, then sniffled as you walked out to your bedroom. As you made your way to your bed, you pushed aside a mountain of tissues from earlier in the… day? Week? With all the sleeping you’d been doing, you genuinely

couldn’t tell what time or day it was. You slipped into one side of the bed, and grabbed a pillow that you promptly hugged. 

Ransom slipped into bed beside you, a bottle of cold medicine in hand– when did he leave long enough to get you cold medicine?– and watched the tissues on your side of the bed fall onto the floor in a slightly disturbed manner. Yeah, he was definitely getting sick after this.

“Open,” he ordered, and you happily obliged, opening your mouth a bit so he could pour some medicine down your throat. You dramatically gagged, then wiped the corners of your lips.

“Gross, Ran,” you muttered, burying your face into a different pillow. 

“Well, it’ll probably make you feel better. I brought you water for a chaser if you’d like. You probably need to stay hydrated, or some shit like that.” 

When did he get water?? Probably when he was getting the medicine. But that would’ve taken him like, five minutes. And getting in bed didn’t take you that long. Right?

You were pulled out of your confused internal monologue by a pink plastic straw being brought to your lips, and you instinctively drank from it. You weren’t completely sure if it was all mental, or the medicine was kicking in extremely fast, but you were starting to feel a little loopy. Maybe time was being weird again because of your sickness. 

“I feel like I’m dying. You and your stupid showers made me die,” you whined, pushing away the straw.

“I was only trying to help,” he insisted as he set the drink down on your bedside table.

“I’m your second murder victim,” you continued.

Ransom paused and looked down at you with raised brows, “what?”

“Y’know, I saw what you did to that delivery girl who was bringing me soup. You better clean that body up before I get better, ‘cause ‘mgonna be pissed if I have to do that myself.”

“Okay, I don’t know if you’ve been seeing things the whole time, or if the medicine is rewriting your memories. Either way, I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” he chuckled.

“You’re right. Night,” you hummed before turning on your side and closing your eyes. It was pretty much lights out from there.

——

When you awoke, it was to the piercing bright light of a laptop screen that broke through the darkness of night. You had to blink a few times for your vision to focus, but… was Ransom in bed next to you? Looking at a WikiHow article? If you weren’t completely mistaken, you could make out a faint How to Help A Sick Person Feel Better: 8 Steps (with pictures).

You sleepily reached out and grabbed his wrist, letting him know that you were finally awake. He quickly clicked out of the tab, pulling up his Twitter feed instead. 

“Hi,” you greeted. “Why’re you being secretive?”

“I’m not,” he huffed.

“You are.”

“You’re still delusional from the medicine.”

“Probably. But you’re being secretive. And you’re bad at it.”

“Whatever,” you could practically hear the eye roll in his tone. 

“It’s late, Ran. Why’re you still up?” 

“I just wanted to, y’know…” he trailed off.

“To…?” you pressed.

“I wanted to make sure nothing would happen to you while you slept,” he rushed out. “Happy?”

You swooned aloud at this, “you are such a sucker. Put that laptop down and cuddle me.”

Ransom said nothing, but set the device into your night stand, and wrapped an arm around you, “‘re you feeling any better?” he mumbled as he relaxed into you. 

“Kinda. We’ll see in the morning,” you slipped your hand down on top of his, and Ransom promptly moved it.

“You’re already pushing it tonight.”

“You’re always such a dick,” you scoffed with a laugh. “Goodnight, asshat.”

“Goodnight, you sick bitch,” he quipped back.

——

When you awoke in the morning, you couldn’t help but to notice how much better you were feeling. No headache, no nausea, a little fatigue, but hey, you just woke up, and that was to be expected. 

As you sat up and glanced to your right, you found a pink-nosed Ransom with a box of empty Kleenex sat in his lap. 

“Oh great, you’re awake,” he began in a nasally tone. “Since you wanted to get me sick, it’s your turn to take care of me,” he tossed the empty box at you, the cardboard falling softly onto your lap. 

Something told you that this was going to be a long day. 

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 1

AN: So I watched the Queens Gambit in one day and I am officially obsessed with it. And how dare it bring back my crush on Thomas Brodie Sangster... Due to this... Have a fanfic...

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x reader

Word Count: 2,504

Warnings: (I know nothing about chess except what the show taught me so bare that in mind), none really

Another state, another tournament. 

Your work had you travel round to even the smallest of Chess Tournaments to try and get the dirt on up and coming chess players or already existing champions. 

You inhaled the familiar smell of a hotel lobby, taking in your surroundings as people bustled about the place. 

It was one of the bigger tournaments fortunately and so you were hoping to run into some champions which tend to give you better pages which equals better pay. 

You walked up to the front desk, your eyes scanning the small tables as far as the eye could see where chess boards were being studied in case you recognised any chess players. 

You did but they were all the standard normies that showed their faces at these events. No one noteworthy yet. 

“Can I help you?” The slim man behind the desk with slicked back red hair flashed you a toothy smile as he greeted you. 

“(Y/n)(Y/l/n).” You introduced yourself and the man soon flicked through his booking sheets to find your reservation. 

“Room 209. If you just head down this hall to the elevators, it’s on the second floor.” The man pointed towards the elevators where you managed to spot the flash of bright auburn hair entering one of them. 

Beth Harmon. 

You smiled with relief as you started to sew the piece in your head already. 

“Thank you.” You took the key and made your way down to elevators. 

As the elevator door dinged open, some commotion by the entrance of the lobby caught your attention. 

The peak of leather through the crowd told you who it was. 

Benny Watts. 

Even better. You now had two top chess players you could focus on. 

You decided to let the celebrity champion settle into his hotel before you mobbed him as a journalist and you also needed to freshen up after travelling. 

You travelled so much that you barely bothered with your apartment. It was mostly rented out to other people besides holidays like Christmas where you actually could return home. 

Everything you had was basically in two large suitcases which you dragged across the United States and Europe following chess players around. 

You mainly liked travelling around Europe. You previously worked for a Parisian chess magazine but this year you took an offer to work for Chess Review which brought you back to the states. 

You had mostly done smaller tournaments all year round so hadn’t had the pleasure in meeting Benny Watts or Beth Harmon yet. 

Benny Watts had been one of the biggest names in chess for years now and Beth Harmon was a rapid rising star. 

You knew this would be your big break in Chess Review to stop being handed the small tournaments and to document the important ones like the US Open. 

You opened the door to your hotel room and smiled when you saw how nice it actually was. 

You had stayed in some crap holes recently. 

You dumped your suitcases to one side and immediately turned on the shower so you could relax your cramped muscles and feel a bit cleaner.

You undressed and let the hot water cascade down your back, covering your hair and face as you tipped your head backwards. 

You took your time in there before getting out and blow drying your hair. 

By the time you had washed, done your hair and make up again; it was time to pick a dress for the evening so you could go get something to eat. 

You went for your favourite navy blue skirt and cream sweater, both hugged you nicely but were still modest, before slipping on some shoes. 

You took a small purse to put your room key in and then left for the restaurant/bar that was in the hotel.

The restaurant was filled with chess players and spectators all buzzing with excitement about this weekend. 

You managed to find a small table away from the majority of the hustle and tucked yourself away with your notepad. 

You liked being a fly on the wall most of the time. You enjoyed observing, studying and learning about people. ‘People watching’ as some would call it. 

The waiter brought over the cocktail you had ordered along with some grapes, cheese and crackers to munch on. 

After writing some of the thoughts down that came to you in the shower, you looked up to see who was around you. 

There was no sign of Beth Harmon which wasn’t unusual as she was known for practising in her room before tournaments. 

You scanned the groups before your eyes stopped on him. Benny Watts. 

His slick blonde hair fell slightly by his eye, his hat on his lap as he talked to the surrounding fans and admirers. 

The man loved talking about himself and loved talking about Chess even more. 

You watched him for a moment, the way his eyes were alight as he laughed amongst his peers. 

Benny must've felt someone was watching him because a second later, his eyes met yours for a brief moment. 

You looked down and pretended to write something down as Benny turned his chin this time to look at you again. 

You were used to being invisible and in that moment you felt extremely seen. 

However, the man didn’t move from his chair or even look another time after that. 

You popped a grape in your mouth before taking a large sip of your drink. You’d have to talk to him tomorrow and you knew that but for the first time, you actually felt the bubbles of nerves rise in stomach.

“May I buy you a drink?” A voice brought you from your thoughts and you looked up to see Henry Cavilla, one of the regular American chess players whom you believed you’d seen only two months before in Denver. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” You declined politely but the man sat down anyway, joining you at your table. 

“I insist.” Henry’s smile spread widely on his lips as he waved a waiter over. “I saw you in Denver. You’re a journalist, am I right?” 

“Yes. For Chess Review.” You had to hide your irritation at his boldness.

“How long you been doing that?” The man asked, 

“Well I’ve been a journalist for three years, but I’ve only been at Chess Review for 6 months.” You admitted honestly as the man ordered two drinks for the table. 

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing reporting on chess? Thought you’d be more into what Beth Harmon was wearing than her Sicilian defence.” 

“I could ask you a similar thing? What’s a mediocre, chino wearing, middle aged   misogynist doing at a chess tournament where Beth Harmon and Benny Watts are playing?” You couldn’t help but let the words slip out of your mouth, slapping the man right round the face. 

You watched the man’s smile drop following a small burst of laughter echoing through the restaurant. 

Your head snapped round to see it was Benny Watts laughing, staring directly at your table. He must’ve heard what you said despite the rest of the restaurant noise. 

“Listen here, sweetheart, you’re just a skirt hired to keep your boss man happy and to fuck the chess players into a one page interview so you can get your paycheck to fund your morning after pill from planned parenthood and buy yourself some clean panties you’d sooner have off anyways.” You hit a nerve with what you said and he seemed to hit one right back.   

You threw the two new drinks in the mans face, causing most of the restaurant to stop and stare at the commotion as he jumped to his feet to retaliate. 

You snatched your notebook and fled the scene before anything worse could happen or you get thrown out of the tournament all together. 

You fell back onto your bed, kicking your shoes off as you did. 

It wasn’t unusual for men to be putting you down, especially in the chess world and the journalist world but tonight you just weren't having any of it. 

You groaned as you pushed your hair out of your face, replaying the event in your head. The way everyone stared after you threw the drinks in his face. 

You did not need to be the centre of attention this weekend. 

You put yourself to bed with the television playing so you could stop scolding yourself in your head and distract yourself to finally get some sleep. 

The next morning you woke up early, getting ready quickly and making sure you had everything you needed for a full day of reporting. 

You skipped breakfast, only taking a black coffee before you entered the battle field.

The chess boards were still being set up and from across the room you spotted the familiar hair colour that belonged to Beth Harmon. 

“Beth? Beth Harmon?” You crossed the room to greet her. “I’m (Y/n)(Y/l/n) from Chess Review. I was wondering if I could get an opening statement before the tournament goes ahead this weekend?” You asked politely, trying your best not to attack her verbally this early in the morning, 

“Uh, of course. I’m feeling very confident this weekend that I’ll quickly rise to the top, concluding the tournament opposite Benny Watts.” Beth admitted, 

“Are you scared of Benny Watts?” You asked, 

“Scared? No. I am merely curious to see how our game goes.” Beth admits. 

“Well, good luck, Beth. I hope to catch up with you sometime this weekend for a brief interview of how you play your games if you don’t mind?” You asked politely, silently begging she’d say yes. 

“I’ll speak with you tomorrow night. It’ll be the middle of the tournament so there’ll be plenty to talk about.” Beth was extremely nice in offering her time and you took it gratefully. 

You left the girl to her own company and returned to the lobby where you could see a crowd already gathering. 

“Mr Watts.” You spotted the leather jacket and hat as the man entered the breakfast room. 

The man turned when he heard his name being called across the lobby and you quickly jogged to catch up to him. 

“You’re the girl from last night who put Henry Cavilla in his place?” Benny Watts smirked at you as he recalled the previous nights events. 

“Um.” You felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I was just wondering if I could get a statement before the tournament began?” 

“You’re a reporter?” Benny cocked his eyebrow at you, his eyes scanning you up and down shamelessly. 

“Yes. For Chess Review.” You informed him. 

“Follow me.” Benny nodded his head sideways towards the table he was heading to and you did as you were told. 

“I was wondering how you were feeling about this weekend and possibly going up against Beth Harmon?” You asked as you sat yourself down opposite the man. 

“I won’t be possibly going up against Beth Harmon. I fully expect to be going up against her. Out of everyone here, she is the only person I see as potential competition.” Benny admitted, picking up his knife and fork as his breakfast was set down on the table. 

“Are you sure there’s no one else? Harry Beltik went into his tournament in Kentucky assuming no one but Cullen was any competition to him and yet Beth Harmon came along.” You stated, jotting down some notes to avoid watching the man eat. 

“Well then, they’ll just have to surprise me.” His eyes locked onto yours when he spoke. His lip just edging into a smirk. 

“Thank you for your statement.” You felt your stomach flip and you jumped to your feet, gathering your things. 

“Would you not like a full interview or was the three sentence statement enough?” Benny cocked his head round as you began to leave. 

“It was four, actually.” You corrected him, tapping your notepad with your pen. 

The man huffed out a short chuckle. 

“I’d be grateful for an interview later on this weekend, Mr Watts, if you don’t mind?” 

“I’ll find you when I’m ready.” Benny told you and from the look in his eyes, that’s what he really meant. 

The day went by quicker than expected, it was impossible to watch every game of the day so you watched Beth’s and Benny’s and you filled yourself in with the plays of any others that would make good press. 

You loved watching the game being played, you always tried to predict the outcome and 9 times out of 10 you got it correct except with Beth Harmon and Benny Watts.

They surprised you and it was thrilling to watch. You admired Harmon’s intuition and her attacks. Watts had always been an interesting watch all through his career but you’d only seen him play a handful of times in person before today.

In the evening, you received a call from the big bosses asking how everything was going. 

“I have an interview set up with Beth Harmon and Benny Watts.” You told them with confidence. 

“Good girl. Now get those interviews done quickly and send me a draft as soon as you can.” Your boss ordered before ending the call. 

You sighed, running a hand over your tired face. 

You picked up the bottle of wine you had in a metal cooler to see it was empty. Room service had taken so long to bring it up previously, you decided to just slip your slippers on and head down to the bar to get one final glass of wine before bed. 

You were wearing a nightie so you pulled a coat on over the top in case you bumped into anyone.

As you walked down the hall, you could hear the familiar voice of Benny Watts behind you. 

He was spewing some chess facts to whoever he was with as he walked. 

You peaked behind your shoulder to see he was heading to his room which was three doors up from yours. 

He spotted you too. 

You went into the elevator to head down to the bar. 

The bar was still busy despite the time and you had to wait for your wine. 

You took the glass and returned to your room. 

Your eyes couldn’t help but linger on the hotel room of Mr Benny Watts as you thought of tomorrows games. 

“You’re not stalking me, are you?” Benny startled you as he came up from behind. 

“Jesus...” You gasped, spinning round to face him. 

“Trying to get the dirt on who I’m sleeping with?” The man cocked his eyebrow, his hands tucked in his tight jeans. 

“Seems like the other way round since you keep appearing behind me.” You referred to earlier. 

“Maybe you just like being in my way?” You couldn’t deny that Benny Watts, the Benny Watts, was flirting with you right now. 

“Goodnight Mr Watts. Good luck tomorrow.” You gripped your door handle tightly. 

“Please, call me Benny.” 

(NEXT PART HERE)

[migilini]

Could you please write one of those Tiktok "I tried to kiss my bestfriend / crush" challenge for either Charlie or Owen. Thanks!

Crushtok - Owen Patrick Joyner

A/N: Yes ofc I can! I never wrote for Owen so let me know what you think! I hope you like it :)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: tiktok and noise (so none really)

Requests are open!

MASTERLIST

--------‐--------------

The sun poked through curtains and you swore that you had heard birds the day before but it was loud, uncomfortably so. All you heard was the clacking of metal and the rattling of the machinery that the construction in front of Owens Appartement made. All the unpleasant noises woke you up in the early morning. Grumbling, you tried to block out the noise with a pillow pressed against your face.

"That's not gonna work sleepy beauty" a lower voice croaked, catching you completely off guard so you let out a quiet shriek. "Oweenn why do you have to scare me badly in the morning?" You whined and took the pillow away from your face.

He sat on the other side of the couch, just underneath your feet and looked absolutely tired. His blonde hair was standing up in every possible direction, his normally piercing blue eyes trying their best to stay open. By the way, he was looking at you with a little smirk on his lips, you figured that you didn't look any better.

"Because it's 6 am on a Saturday morning and I didn't want to suffer alone. So lucky you for visiting me this week!" Owen exclaimed and hit your leg in a joking manner.

"I've got thrown out by my landlord. I'm not here on my own terms..." this earned you a shocked gasp from the boy sitting in front of you. "And there I was, thinking this friendship meant something to you." You just rolled your eyes with a smirk.

"Do you want to come back to my bedroom? With some music playing it's much quieter than out here." Nodding tiredly, he held out a hand to help you stand up; you only noticed when you nuzzled into his bed that he didn't let go of your hand.

You woke up a couple of hours later, quiet pop music filled the darkroom and it was hot, your bare legs sticking to the duvet covers. You turned around and faced a back with broad shoulders that were just moments ago pressed against your back. Groaning, you stuck your legs out of the bed, the cold air cooling you down immediately. Owen stirred next to you and sat up slowly.

"Morning part 2." you chuckled and automatically pushed some of his hair out of his face.

"Mornin" he mumbled back.

"You were right it's much quieter in your room."

You stood up, stretching your limbs, before heading back into the living room where all your stuff was stored, quite impractically but it was stored.

You heard a shower running, that gave you the perfect time to change from your big shirt and little pants sleep attire to a more comfortable day outfit. After rummaging through your boxes, that you packed in a freezy, you choose some brown cotton pants with a white body and to top it off your favourite purple cardigan that Owen gifted you one Christmas. With some extra time, you put on your glasses and started to search for a new place to stay.

"So what do you wanna do today? I have nothing going on so..." you stopped listening as Owen walked into the living room shirtless. He wore some blue sweatpants that hung quite low on his hips, his chest still sparkling from the water.

You would have probably started to drool if he wouldn't have worn his hair in a towel bun.

You let out a laugh that made him stop in his tracks.

"What?" he stared at you intensely.

"Oh, nothing princess... nothing. We uh... could look at some apartments for me and just go for a drive?"

"Am I that bad of a roommate?" he said and plopped down next to you on the couch his arm resting on the top comfortably.

"No but I would really appreciate a place to store my stuff properly." you continued to scroll through places to stay.

"This one looks good." he pointed out and put his finger on the screen, you hadn't realised that he rested his arm just above your shoulders so it took you off guard when you suddenly felt his arm on your neck.

"Mhmm, but you cant look at it today... This one though has a viewing in the late afternoon."

"Then that's our plan for today."

++

"Y/N! Y/N!" Owen screamed loudly from the kitchen "Come here real quick."

With your phone still in one hand, you waddled over to your best friend. "What's the emergency?" you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Do this TikTok with me." he pleaded and looked at you with a slight pout, shoving his phone in your face. Your eyes scanned the screen and then you scoffed, "First of all since when are you on lesbian TikTok? And secondly, that's a bit... explicit... don't you think?"

"W- Our lips don't have to touch! I don't have anybody else to do it with! Y/N Come On!" he yelled after your figure who left the kitchen with a shaking head and hot cheeks.

Your thought didn't stop racing for the rest of the day. Did Owen want to kiss you? Or was he just so comfortable with your friendship that he really didn't care? You hated that you were a cliche, falling in love with your childhood best friend. Growing up you were always the one rolling your eyes at your parents who thought that you and Owen would make just such a cute couple but here you were, sitting on his couch, your heart beating in your chest and extremely conscious of his presence.

Little did you know that Owen felt the exact same. Over the years and especially puberty, he started to develop feelings for you. At first, he tried to deny them, telling himself that it's just that he's used to you being around but then he left to pursue his acting career and he missed you more than everything in the world. Not a single day went by when he didn't think of you or tried to call you. Ever since then, he tried to be close to you in one way or the other, he didn't care if it was just his leg touching yours or your body heat warming him up.

Due to the fact that you were both anxious people, neither of you ever made a move. He missed your longing stares and you missed the way he was checking you out every time he looked at you.

His friends finally talked some confidence into him and so he took little steps into what should eventually lead to him confessing his love for you. He started to flirt more with you, give you loads of compliments and asked you if you wanted to do some TikTok or lives with him.

Tapping on your shoulder made you look up from your phone, the TikTok you've been watching looping on your screen. Owen stood next to you, his phone pointed to you, a mischievous smirk prominent on his face and whipped cream can in his other hand.

"No." you tried to be serious but a chuckle escaped your lips. Owen turned the camera to him and sprayed some cream into his mouth then stared at you with squinted eyes, the whipped cream flowing out of his mouth.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, your brain in overdrive, hands sweaty and heart beating rapidly. An idea washed over you and you tilted your head before leaning in close. Owen's eyes went wide and he nearly choked on the cream. But you weren't gonna kiss him seconds before your lips would have met, you halted. Then you slowly took the can of whipped cream out of his hand and sprayed it all over his head.

"You didn't!" he gasped with a full mouth while you laid on the floor, holding your stomach in laughter. Something wet hit your face that stopped you from laughing further. Owen had a massive grin on his face, one hand dripping slightly and his hair, less creamy.

"Be cautious Joyner" you warned standing up on your tiptoes to be as close to him as possible, your pointer finger pressing into his chest "I know where your bed sleeps."

You tried to back out of the situation, knowing damn well that it can easily get out of hand with you two and a whipped cream match would make a lot of mess. But Owen being the child he is, didn't back out, instead, he ripped the can out of your hand and sprayed it down your back.

The war ended peacefully. The cans of whipped cream, yes you found more cans, laying somewhere in the living room both of you covered from head to toe, breathing heavily. Owen held his hands up in surrender and looked up to your position on the coffee table.

"Ha! I win! Told you I didn't want to do the TikTok." you smiled triumphantly. "I say loser cleans this up." before Owen could protest you sprinted to the shower. Lucky for you he actually started to clean up when you walked out of the bathroom, dressed in comfortable sweats and one of Owens hoodie, your damp hair falling over your shoulders.

"Hey Y/N?" Owen asked somehow nervously. "Yes darling?" you answered with a bad British accent.

"Can you come here for a second?"

"Owen I'm not doing that TikTok with you, you just saw how that ended," you argued but made your way over to him. He stood in the middle of the room, his phone propped up on a shelf.

"You have something on your face." you chuckled and whipped away some dried leftovers from your previous war.

"Can you react to this song? I don't remember where I know it from" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his odd behaviour just moments ago he was normal and now he acted very strangely.

"Sure." he pulled you in front of him, his hands resting on your shoulders.

'Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

I can't let you go now that I got it'

“Sounds like BORNS…” you whispered more to yourself than to him and continued to listen to the song “Are you sure you just haven't…” you turned around to face him.

Owen took this as his opportunity to cup your face with both of his hands, softly pressing his lips to yours.

Your breath hitched and it took you a second to realise what was happening. The confidence Owen had just moments ago vanished when you didn't kiss him back immediately. Why should you? You never gave a hint that you liked him like that as well.

Just as he was about to pull away and apologize profusely, you overcame your state of shock. Your arms grabbed his hips to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. You felt him smile against your lips. Your stomach erupted with butterflies, your whole body tingled and your cheeks felt hot.

He was the first one to pull away, resting his forehead on yours. Both breathing heavily, the filming camera was completely forgotten, you looked in each other's eyes.

“I wanted to do that for so long,” you admitted and unconsciously bit your lip. Owen gulped heavily, “Me too but, what the hell! I mean how crazy is that?!”