#offical hustle hate post

[friendlynaborhooddisapointment]

the dream would be a 15hour week workday at a low stress job not that far from home but not too close it feels intimate to your home, a small mangable appartment that wont fall apartwith furnishings i like,bills that arnt stress inducing in a way that make me think about money all the time, and just chill and do my hobbies when im not doing all the other things people have to do in their adult to not be that sad life like cook and clean and talk to people

[antisocialxconstruct]

.

[bloodrvvvsh]

Needs Me When He’s All Alone. | Post-Prison!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer had broken up long ago — his work kept him too busy for a relationship, is what he told you. Now, several years later, when your paths cross again because you take a job as his boss's assistant, the feelings you both had buried seem to be rekindled.

Pairing: Ex-Boyfriend!Post-prison!Spencer Reid x Fem!Assistant!Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), p in v sex, rough hate sex, dom!Spencer, sub!brat!Reader, afab + fem!Reader, hints at some sort of rivarly (kinda) between Spencer and Emily, face fucking, spit/drool, spanking, face slapping, very sloppy and messy fingering, hair pulling, hand around the throat (no choking), dacryphilia, lots and lots of biting, back scratching, marking, orgasm denial, praise, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, prick, asshole) + pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, good girl), creampie

Word count: 4.4K

Notes: Another PWP from me, who’s surprised. Anyways enjoy and stream Starfucker by Slayyyter ✨

It would be a lie to say you hadn’t thought about Spencer Reid since your breakup.

You tried not to think about him, but it was impossible to when you were still so hopelessly hung up on him. It was almost pathetic with the way you were always mentally comparing your dates to him, or spending the day dreaming about him and his big hands and big.. other things.

It was even worse when you considered the way he decided to dump you, too. Some excuse about his work keeping him too busy to maintain a relationship. What kind of a reason is that? It’s not like you ever minded when he was away on long cases, it just made the reunion all the more sweeter in your opinion.

But it wasn’t good enough for Spencer, apparently. You were not good enough Dr. Spencer Reid. 

Or, at least, that's what you told yourself when your mind wandered a little too far a little too late at night. It was the same thought that had been cycling through your mind for the past five years. Why else would he dump you for some lame ass reason after nearly three years of dating?

That was the past, though. You were moving on and moving forward. There were more things in life than an ex-boyfriend who happened to be really great at the time. The world didn’t end five years like you might have thought, the earth continued to turn and you continued to wake up every morning.

Today was a day you actually woke up with a sense of excitement bubbling inside your chest. Today was the first day of your new job. You had always preferred the quiet hustle of office jobs and this job was exactly that. 

While some might be intimidated by the idea of working for the FBI, you really didn’t mind it. It wasn’t like you were going out on the field every day. You were just an assistant, and you were fine with that. Living in DC, it was a little hard to escape all things governmental and the like, so really it was just another Monday for you.

You watched as the numbers on the elevator ticked by as you rose up. Tucked in the crook of your elbow was a manila envelope and a coffee in your hand. Your free hand fell to the hem of your skirt, tugging on it slightly to hopefully provide some more coverage to your body. The skirt was a little short, but you had paired it with some black pantyhoses to - quite literally - cover your ass. You weren’t sure how well it was actually working, though.

The elevator dinged with the arrival of you to your floor. You let a deep breath out through your mouth before you stepped out. Your heels clicked on the floor, hurriedly trying to make your way across the bullpen and to your new boss’s office like requested.

You had crossed the bullpen with seemingly no problem and you were just about to step onto the stairs when a familiar call of your name had your blood running cold.

“Y/N?” A pit settled in your stomach, dark and cold and full of horrible feelings when Spencer’s voice hit your ears. You swallowed. You turned your head slowly, like you were expecting him to disappear before you looked fully behind you.

But no luck. There he was, in all his glory. Although, he looked very different to the last time you had seen him. He seemed to have ditched his old cardigans and sweaters for tailored suits. His hair was longer, messier, and stubble grew across his face. 

Unfortunately for you, he looked even hotter than before.

And even though he looked so different, so unlike the sweet and dorky Spencer you used to date, now looking more like the gruff FBI agent he truly was, there was still a softness to his deep brown eyes that told you this was the same old Spencer Reid you couldn’t get your mind off of.

“Spencer,” you sighed. God, why did he have to be so beautiful still? “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” he said with a raise of his eyebrow. Mentally you cursed yourself. How could you possibly forget? You were too starstruck to even think properly in that moment. “What are you doing here?”

“I also work here.” You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. You watched his gaze flit up and down your body and suddenly you were too well aware of your outfit choices when he lingered on your thighs. You should have just worn pants, but no, you wanted to look cute for your first day.

For a moment, the two of you could only stare at each other in silence. What could you possibly say after your last interaction being a shitty breakup? And just as you were about to say something, another voice cut in.

“Y/N!” Emily called out cheerfully. A sense of relief washed over you at the sight of her, your whole body relaxing. You nodded your head at her, bending slightly at the knees to give a half-assed bow.

“Emily,” you murmured. You held out the envelope and cup of coffee to her, giving a little smile when she took them into her own hands. 

Emily’s attention turned to Spencer and you were almost certain there was some hint of smugness in her eyes. “I see you’ve met my new assistant,” she said with a hand falling to your back, giving it a soft pat. Spencer’s eyes narrowed.

His fingers curled tighter around the satchel slung across his body and you noticed a flicker of something - anger? jealousy? - in his eyes. “I have met her,” was all he said, his tone suddenly turning very curt. 

You didn’t know what they were doing, what sort of mind games they were playing, and you weren’t sure how to feel about being a pawn caught in between it all. The air was thick, tense, nearly electric. Like they were two live wires waiting for a spark. You could feel the prickle of the hair on the back of your neck standing on end.

You cleared your throat, running your hand down the front of your skirt to rid yourself of your sweaty palms. “I, uh. I’m gonna.. go get some more case files that need to be sorted.” The minute the words left your mouth, you were already making a beeline to simply get out of there.

~

The rest of the day seemed to move by fairly smoothly. No more incidents between Spencer and Emily (to your knowledge) and you didn’t have to see Spencer again. A perfect day in your book.

You were actually almost finished with the day. You only had a few cases to be printed and sorted away, and then you were free to leave. Most had already left for the day, leaving the office vacant and eerily quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Sometimes that was better, no distractions from finishing up the last few things before you clocked out.

You stood at the coping machine, your back to the door, when you heard it creak open. You didn’t think much of it, it was a busy office, after all, and plenty of people used the copier room. You didn’t even think to look behind you to see who it was. Your mind was one track at this point, just looking to finish your tasks and go home.

You should have known better.

You knew it was too late when you felt a broad chest being pressed to your back. A warm breath fanned over your ear as large hands that you knew too well roamed your sides. It was pure instinct the way your body melted into his touch, a sigh full of wanton desires wafting from your lips.

You felt weak. You were weak. In that moment, you were nothing more than a mammal with the primal need to procreate. 

Your head fell to the side, leaning back to rest on Spencer’s shoulder, baring your neck to him, submitting to him like the weak little thing you both knew you were. God, you were really going to hate yourself when this was all over. You were already starting to feel that bubble of anger and hatred forming in your chest, creeping up your throat and burning like bile in your mouth.

Your hands snapped over his, stilling his movements. His lips hovered over your neck, mere inches from your pulse point. “You are such a prick,” you bit out. You sounded breathless, needy. 

You tugged at his fingers, trying to pry them off your body. You spun in his arms, turning to face him. His pupils were dilated, swallowing his irises whole and making them more akin to black holes than the warm brown eyes you used to love. His hair was a mess, like he had been running his fingers through it too many times, his tie askew. Your eyes narrowed. 

“You must have something wrong with you if you think I’m going to sleep with you after what you put through,” you hissed at him. You pressed yourself against the copier machine, trying to create some semblance of distance between the two of you, and crossed your arms tight over your chest.

“After what I put you through?” Spencer echoed almost incredulously. He had to be playing dumb, because you knew he was the farthest thing from stupid.

You scoffed. “You broke up with me with some lame ass excuse, and then you never bothered to talk to me again!” You could not believe him in that moment. It was like he was purposefully trying to piss you off.

“Y/N-” 

“Do not “Y/N” me,” you spit out like the words were venom in your mouth. “I am not your girlfriend, and just because I now work at the BAU too doesn’t mea-”

Spencer’s lips were crashing against yours before you could even finish your sentence. He always kissed like a man starved, like he was trying to consume you whole. You whimpered against his mouth, hands flying to grasp onto his wrists while his hands cradled your face.

The kiss grew even more passionate, somehow, becoming a mashing of lips and teeth and breathless moans and animalistic growls. You missed this - missed the intense fire Spencer lit in you, the passion that he brought into everything he did.

His hands flew down to the hem of your skirt, quickly hitching it up as you both stumbled around the room, barely breaking your kissing to catch your breaths. He hooked his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up onto a nearby table. You instantly spread your legs, inviting him in without so much another thought. He quickly shed his suit jacket, tossing it aside to some random part of the room.

Then you heard a distinct rip of fabric. You pulled away from Spencer’s addictive lips, pressing your hands on his chest and forcing him to let in some room between the two of you. You glanced down to see a huge tear on your tights and you gasped.

“You ripped my tights?!” you shrieked, landing a smack to his chest.

“Keep it up, and I’ll rip your panties, too,” he growled and you hated that the deep timbre of his voice sent flashes of arousal straight to your core. He didn’t miss the way you clenched your thighs together. He weaved a hand into your hair and curled his fingers around the strands of your hair, giving it a good tug to force you to bear your neck to him once more.

He pressed wet and sloppy kisses to the junctions of your neck, nipping at the neck, making you gasp and squirm. He pushed your panties to the side, not bothering to even pull them halfway. He plunged two fingers in, knowing you could handle it. You gasped even louder when he filled you so suddenly, your back arching into the feeling.

“You’re so wet for me,” Spencer murmured against your sweaty skin. The thrust of his fingers were hard, fast, making your head spin with arousal. You couldn’t remember the last time you had sex, let alone sex this hedonistic, but god, were you loving it. His fingers were so long, hitting all the right places in you without even trying. “You missed me, didn’t you?”

You hated profilers, and you especially hated Spencer Reid. “Screw you,” you hissed. You didn’t even notice when his hand seemed to have fallen to your ass, but you definitely felt the hard smack of it connecting with your flesh.

“What do you think I’m trying to do, princess?” He punctuated his words with another hard swat to your ass and a nip to the neck. You moaned at both sensations, grinding into the fingers deep inside you. “I don’t remember you being such a brat when we dated..”

“I don’t remember you being such an asshole,” you retorted. Another smack, another gasp from you. You glared at him.

Spencer’s fingers picked up pace, moving in and out of you in an almost messy and uncoordinated fashion, his thumb rubbing fast circles on your clit. The sloppy sounds of his fingers thrusting and your moans filled the air, creating a dizzying erotic symphony. 

“You never answered my question,” he breathed out. He moved his lips to your ear, teeth grazing along the shell. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” you lied right through your teeth and you both knew it. He delivered another spank to your ass, making you squeak at how sensitive you apparently becoming with his spankings.

“There’s no need to lie.” He bit down on your earlobe and you keened right as his fingers angled perfectly to hit your G-spot. He pulled back to look you in the eye, smirking at the sight of you unraveling under his fingers. “You missed me, and you missed my dick, like the stupid little slut you are.”

The Spencer you used to know, the man you loved, would have never called you any sort of name, not even bed. Hearing that word tumbling out of his lips had you clenching hard around his fingers and whining loud, eyes squeezing shut as your stomach twisted into knots.

“Admit it, Y/N,” he whispered in a husky voice, “Admit you missed me fucking you.”

“Fuck you.” More smacks to the ass. Three in the row this time, not even giving you time to recover. Each was harder than the less, leaving your skin tingling.

Spencer retracted his fingers from your messy cunt, making you whine at the loss of feeling full for the first time in far too long. “Open,” he commanded and you obeyed, much to your own disgust. His finger plunged into your mouth and you wrapped your lips around them without another word.

You licked them clean, tasting yourself, all the while maintaining eye contact with his intense stare. He pulled his fingers out from your mouth as fast as he did with your cunt. He cupped your cheek in his palm, gently caressing your supple skin. Then he delivered a hard smack to your cheek.

Your head snapped to the right and you gasped, hand automatically flying to your stinging cheek. You couldn’t believe him. And you couldn’t believe yourself for getting even wetter from it all.

Before you could react any further, his hand was tangling back in your hair, pulling harshly to drag you to your knees. He made quick work of his belt and unbuttoned his pants, fishing his hard dick out of its confines. Your mouth watered at the sight. It was so big, so pretty with its pale pink head and veins trailing along the sides.

Spencer chuckled at the hungry look in your eyes. “You missed this, didn’t you, baby?” he cooed at you. You found yourself nodding your head. He wrapped a hand around his cock, giving it a few lazy tugs. His thumb swiped at the tip, smearing the pre-cum gathering with a soft hiss.

He hovered it over your lips, teasing you. And in that moment, you weren’t above whining, which is exactly what you did. “Poor baby missed choking on my big dick, didn’t she?” Fake sympathy dripped from his words, making you feel oh-so dizzy and small. You nodded your head again, more frantically and desperate this time.

“Go ahead,” he urged, reaching a hand to the back of your head and pushing you forward, “Suck it, pretty girl.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. You braced your palms on his thighs as you stuck your tongue out, flickering it over the tip of Spencer’s cock. His fingers carded through your hair and you nearly melted.

You licked a broad stride along the underside of his dick and you shivered at the groan you earned in response. You took the tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him as you made your way down his cock.

“Fuck,” Spencer breathed out. His eyes fluttered shut, hips involuntarily rocking into your throat. He’d never admit it himself, but nothing could compare to your sweet mouth. He had spent more than a few countless nights dreaming about it wrapped around him once more.

You took his little curse and movements as encouragement, swallowing even more of him. You could never quite fit the entirety of him in your mouth, but it never stopped you from trying. 

Spencer took a fistful of your locks in his hand, tugging hard at the strands, and you winced at the pain radiating from your scalp. Lust flared down your spine, electrifying your body as he forced his cock all the way in your mouth. You choked around the intruding object in your throat, contracting around him and making him moan.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he crooned. His other hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as your eyes watered. He brushed away a tear that spilled down with a grin full of sadistic glee. “You look so pretty like this.. Your mouth has better uses than being a brat, don’t you think, pretty girl?”

He pulled you off his cock, leaving you to gag and heave heavy breaths. He clicked his tongue, faux pouting down at you. “Can’t handle it?” He didn’t give you any time to respond before he was pulling back down on his dick, pushing your head down until his pubes tickled your nose. “That’s too fucking bad.”

He repeated his motions, thrusting into your mouth violently until you got that dazed look in your eyes. Drool spilled from the corners of your lips and all over his cock. Praises from his lips, creating a chorus between his groans and moans of pure pleasure.

When you felt like you were seriously going to lose your mind from lack of oxygen, Spencer pulled out finally. You panted, dizzy and delirious, but so fucking horny. You whimpered when he guided you away from his dick, your bottom lip sticking out in a genuine pout.

He spun you around before you bending over the same table from earlier. You gasped, a sense of excitement bubbling in your stomach when you realized what was to come. His hands fell to your hips and you pushed your ass back against him, wiggling it with a pitiful whine. You glanced back at him over your shoulder and you were sure that you looked like some sort of pathetic slut, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.

“Someone’s eager,” Spencer remarked with a chuckle. But he was just as ready to screw your brains out. 

He guided his cock to your soaking wet folds, taking a moment to smear your wetness around with his tip, up until you started whining again. He chuckled once more before finally entering you. 

Your jaw fell slack as his cock entered you, stretching you to your limits. He was so fucking big, stretching you so deliciously and filling you up in a ways that couldn’t possibly be replicated.  

“There you go,” Spencer murmured. He leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back firmly. “That’s what you’ve been craving, haven’t you, princess? Just needed some dick to turn your pretty little brain off.”

His hand snaked around to wrap his fingers around your throat. Not squeezing, rather just resting there, reminding you of your place, of his power over you. He continued to push until he bottomed out inside you and you both keened. How could you have ever broken up when you fit together so perfectly?

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby,” he hissed right into your ear. “Your pretty pussy definitely missed me, didn’t it?” His other hand landed on your ass once more and he delivered a hard smack on the available skin. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart, such a good fuckin’ girl..”

He pulled back slightly, roughly halfway, before slamming into you hard enough to make the table slam against the wall. Then he repeated himself, one rough thrust after the other. You felt so braindead in that moment, gone in your own head with pleasure, that you could moan and babble.

“Feels so good, Spence,” you whined, trying to grind your hips back against him. “Fuck, it’s so good, so good, please don’t stop, please, please-” You cut yourself with a heady moan when he slammed into you with force.

“Cockdrunk whore,” Spencer hissed into your ear and you could only nod. His hand moved from your ass to tracing your labia before finding his target - your throbbing and neglected clit. He rubbed hard and fast circles around the swollen nub and you nearly sobbed.

His lips drifted to your neck and began peppering every inch of your skin in kisses. Some light, some sloppy and messy, nearly bruising with the force of them. Your head fell forward, hair falling all over your face and sticking to your sweaty skin. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks.

Then came Spencer’s teeth, grazing along your neck before biting down, hard. You squeaked, hands curling around the edge of the table until your knuckles turned white. Your cunt clenched, sucking him in even deeper. His groan rumbled deep in your chest.

“Taking me so fucking good, baby, such a good girl for me,” he mumbled against your skin. He picked up his thrusts, hips slamming hard against yours. The circles on your clit increased in their pace, as well, the coil in your stomach burning hot and heavy.

“Spencer,” you nearly shrieked. “Spencer, I’m gonna- Shit! I’m gonna cum, Spencer!”

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” His words were nearly a growl, deep and low and so fucking sexy. “You gonna cum?” He landed a harsh slap against your pussy and you almost screamed once more.

Spencer pulled out suddenly, leaving just as empty as you were earlier. Your eyes shot wide open, whines tumbling from your lips, distraught at being denied your precious orgasm. He was spinning around you once more, crashing your lips together.

You moaned into the kiss, arms hurried wrapping around his broad shoulders. His hands fell to your thighs, lifting you up and into his arms, making you squeak. When did he get so.. strong?

You didn’t have much time to ponder over Spencer’s sudden display of strength because your back was practically tossed against a nearby wall. He pulled apart from the kiss to take his cock into his hand again, guiding it towards your dripping cunt again.

Your nails dug into his back as he stretched you open on his cock again, head falling back and hitting the wall. His lips were attached to your lips again, suckling and biting to leave behind millions of different marks.

“So big,” you slurred. Your voice sounded almost foreign to yourself - high-pitched and whiny. “Filling me so good, Spence, it’s so good.” Tears had begun to cascade down your face, streaking your mascara and leaving thick tracks of black on your cheeks. Spencer had never seen you look more beautiful than in that moment.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N,” he praised between heavy pants. “Taking me so good, so good, like the stupid fucking slut you are.” His hand made contact with your face again, leaving a red mark in its wake and leaving your skin feeling electric. Your walls squeezed around him.

“You like that, huh?” he did again and you moaned loudly, unashamed now. “You like being smacked around, huh? Like being treated like the filthy lil’ whore you are? Is that right, princess?” He repeated himself, smacking you once, twice, three times and each you clenched around him.

Your orgasmed barreled over you before you could have possibly processed it. Your eyes squeezed shut, stars popping in your vision, legs shaking. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as pleasure washed over you in waves near akin to a tsunami in your body.

Spencer fell right over the edge right after you, teeth sinking down into your shoulder with a heavy groan. Sprouts of hot cum flooded your insides and you whined at the feeling of overstimulation washing over you.

You both stilled for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, panting heavily together. Slowly, Spencer pulled out his softening cock out of you, and you whined for the final time at being so empty. Your cunt clenched around nothing for a few seconds before beginning to seep Spencer’s seed, dripping down your thigh and onto the carpet.

You felt a bit bad for the janitor who would have to clean up your messes.

Spencer grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning your head to look back at him. His lips met yours in another kiss, this time much softer and full of something you might describe as affection. 

When you pulled apart, he smiled at you. “So good for me.” He was breathless, and you couldn’t blame him.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you again. Spencer cleared his throat before adding, “Did you, uh.. want a ride back to my place? I still have some of your clothes at my apartment, you could shower and change..” he trailed off, teeth catching his bottom lip. There was a hint of a pleading look in his eyes and your heart clenched at the sight. You could never say no to his puppy eyes.

“Only if you take me out to dinner after.”

“Deal.”

[highvern]

When in Rome TEASER

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, cheating, penetrative sex, nudity, mentions of drug use, more tbd

Length: tbd, teaser: ~3k

Note: excited to have this for the @svthub world tour collab! thank u to everyone who helped me brain storm and ofc @gyuswhore for dealing with the insanity that is my brain

Summary: After months of no contact, Seungcheol isn't sure what to expect when he sees you again at Jeonghan's wedding. He's prepared to apologize, to grovel, to bear the weight of a cold shoulder. Whatever it takes to have you back, his best friend since diapers; or whatever will ensure the last third of your trio has the best day of his life. But when he overhears the most recent development in your relationship, he must come to terms with something he was never prepared for, or risk losing you for good.

m.list

Leave a comment if you would like to be tagged when this is posted on July 7th. YOU MUST HAVE AN AGE IN BIO TO BE ADDED!

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

There are fewer places Seungcheol hates more than airports. Dentist offices, his grandparents’ house during the holidays when they ask about grandkids, and even the time he ran into his elementary school science teacher the first time he was buying condoms at the pharmacy, all were more favorable than the hustle and bustle of an international airport. 

Seungcheol likes to be straightforward and direct. Something that becomes seemingly at odds with the average person traveling because at the one place everyone has somewhere to be, they act as if they have all the time in the world.

But the simple thought that it's all temporary, that his personal ninth circle of hell is the only thing standing between him and a week in Italy is enough to grin and bear it. 

On the other side of the terminal, his best friends are waiting for him. It’s not as if they haven’t seen each other for long; Jeonghan and Sofie were at bar trivia last week as their last hurrah before tying the knot. As usual they wiped the floor with everyone, rousing several allegations of cheating that Jeonghan deserved. But Seungcheol is about to watch them get married and it makes him a little misty around the eyes because he loves his friends more than anything. 

The only concern, which is less of a concern and more of a titanic size anchor sinking in his gut, is that you’re Sofie’s maid of honor. And you haven’t spoken to him since New Years when you revealed you were moving to New York with your boyfriend, Johnny.

Another place Seungcheol dreads, right next to the airport, is anywhere Johnny happens to be. He’s everything you aren’t: abrasive, arrogant, catty, disorganized. And those are just the traits at the front of the alphabet. 

You had a plan. A list of criteria he had to listen to over and over again after each failed date. Even the guys Seungcheol set you up with after carefully vetting didn’t seem to make the mark. It was respectable, commendable. You wouldn’t settle for anything less than “perfect.” Whatever that meant to you. 

At a bar, three years ago, Johnny approached you. Seungcheol watched from across the table as you mentally ran over your checklist. Johnny met the physical ones: tall, good hygiene, well kept appearance. The other things would need more investigation. What did he do for work? Was he close with his family? Kids? Opinions on cheating at bar trivia?

The more Seungcheol learned about Johnny after your detailed debrief from a few dates the more confused he became. Johnny worked in banking. You hated finance bros and called them scum of the dating pool. He was an only child and only talked to his parents on holidays and birthdays. You had grand dreams of close grandparents and houses full of cousins. He didn’t want kids. You did. He didn’t think bar trivia was that serious. Seungcheol watched you threaten Jeonghan’s life on more than one occasion over the use of Shazam during the music round. Johnny was everything you said you didn’t want. 

And then you followed him across the country after two years of dating cut with three breakups. 

It didn’t make sense. 

When Seungcheol pulled you aside after you announced you’d be moving, trying to figure why you thought living with the man who once asked if you really needed to wash bath towels if you only use them when you’re already clean, you told him to mind his business. Later that night, after enough drinks to make everything blurry, you two got into a screaming match on the sidewalk with your shared friends attempting to play referee. It was the last time you two spoke. 

In over twenty five years of friendship, founded on the backs of elementary school shenanigans under a reign of terror of one Jeonghan Yoon, you and Seungcheol’s real fights can be counted on one hand. 

The sixth grade field trip where you and Jeonghan left him out, senior year of highschool when the girl Seungcheol took to prom argued about his parents taking more pictures with you than her, and junior year of college when Seungcheol caught you making out with his frat brother after ditching him under the guise of having a stomach bug. That was it. Three fights, all of which were resolved within a week because as stubborn as you both are, you’re best friends. 

Five and a half months of not speaking, except when Seungcheol texted a half hearted apology and you responded with a quarter of forgiveness. That was it. 

But Seungcheol won’t dwell. He refuses to make things awkward for Jeonghan and Sofie during the most special week of their lives. Knowing you, you’ve probably already come to the same resolution. The only person you’re closer to than Seungcheol is Jeonghan with Sofie a close second. If there is anyone you two will agree to put aside an argument for, it's them.

The sun has already begun setting when he makes it through customs and out towards the Arrivals, painting everything in buttery yellow. 

“SEUNGCHEOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL!” Sofie screams, hands cupped around her mouth.

She’s half outside the cherry red sports car. An Intermeccanica Italia Spyder because Seungcheol knows three things in life: expensive watches, expensive whiskey, and expensive cars. Sofie’s family happened to have plenty of the last and Seungcheol assumed the first two as well.

When Sofie became his study partner in law school she ended up following him on Instagram. He assumed from the way she carried herself, perfect posture with tailored clothes and an ‘air of society’ as you called it, that she was well off. But then, during a late night gossip session, you and he did a deep dive and found out Sofie wasn’t just well off. Her family had more money than God. 

But everything on the surface was a contrast to who Sofie really was. Heiress to a fortune but studied more than anyone in their class just to graduate second. Perfect posture and tailored clothes are a stark contrast to her favorite bar where she’d outdrink anyone, and cheer when the prize for trivia was cheap plastic margarita glasses.

Or right now, where she belts Seungcheol’s name again like some drunk frat boy while sitting in a car worth more than his life.

Seungcheol jogs to where she waits, already smiling. 

“I would have brought a ‘Welcome back from rehab’ sign but my mom thought you’d be embarrassed,” Sofie says as she hugs him over the console. 

“At least make it ‘welcome home from prison’ so people won’t walk in my way.”

“I’ll make sure Jeonghan remembers you have a preference,” she calls over the wind. 

Technically, the house (which is really a mansion) is almost an hour from the airport. With Sofie’s driving it only takes twenty minutes in which Seungcheol thinks he might need to start going to church. 

The pebbled driveway crunches underneath the tires as they approach. 

In the evening light, the house is more daunting. An imposing stone facade rises from the ground, more akin to a small castle than an actual home. Smooth stone with detailed carvings, windows with huge shutters, and on the top floor, a balcony, fenced with wrought iron, juts out.

Even after years of seeing pictures, Seungcheol still can’t believe his friend grew up here. 

Sofie throws the car in park right in front of the door before jumping out. 

“By the way, there were some issues with one of the rooms.” Sofie drops her voice, “My aunt and uncle are fighting, so I hope you don’t mind sharing?”

Seungcheol knows most of the guys coming to the wedding. Worst case scenario he’s stuck in a twin size bunk bed with a weird cousin. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect! Just leave your stuff, everyones out back.” Sofie pushes him as hard as she can manage which isn’t much at all given she’s five foot nothing. 

The garden is filled with bodies upon bodies crowded together, some old, some young. Seungcheol recognizes a few faces in the mix: Soonyoung, Joshua, Seungkwan. More friends from law school. Jeonghan’s sister waves from across the way. Everyone seems to be paying attention to whatever is happening at the iron garden table. 

And then, like a scene in a movie, everyone parts for a second and time freezes. 

Seungcheol would recognize you anywhere. Even if he can’t see your face, he knows it's you. The curve of your shoulders, the tilt of your head. The bark of laughter as your chin drops forward. He knows it's you and the weight in his stomach lightens and leadens in an odd cycle.

He missed you.

Then everything comes back into real time. Wine and cards. Then he sees the chips on the table, your stack to the side significantly higher than anyone else's. 

Months of ruminating over what he’d do when reunited fly out the window. Seungcheol doesn’t waste a minute as he approaches, hand on the back of your chair as he peeks over your head to sneak a glance at your hand.

“Who let you talk them into poker?”

You’re already smiling when you tilt back to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Oh, how he missed you.

“She said she didn’t know how to play,” an old man grumbles from the side. 

Seungcheol doesn’t recognize him but he’s got the same expression as all the people you’ve sharked before: mildly impressed and slightly murderous. Two other guys sit at the table, one old enough to be his grandfather looks almost proud. Seokmin fills that last seat, head in his hands at being swindled so easily. 

“I said,” you start, throwing your gaze to him. “I hadn’t played in a while.” 

You look back up at Seungcheol for some kind of support. Eyes round and innocent in a way you both know you’re not. Pool, cards, darts, any game a man a few drinks in could beat you at was easy fodder for your con. Usually it ended with free drinks, sometimes money, but mostly it’s Seungcheol playing referee for the disillusioned guys you swindled while wearing a bright grin. 

Tossing a few chips towards the three men at table with a smart “don’t spend it all in one place,” you rise and throw your arms around Seungcheol like everything is normal. 

“Hi,” you whisper into his neck.

Seungcheol’s hands are already curled around your waist, pulling you in tight. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

“I see that you can’t even greet your best friend.” Jeonghan coughs from the side.

Seungcheol squeezes you tighter at the jab. It’s Jeonghan’s wedding but the last time Seungcheol saw him was last week when dropping the couple off at the airport to come here. He’s far more interested in dragging out his reunion with you as long as possible. “I’m in the middle of that actually.”

He scoffs in response, walking away. “Whatever, I see too much of you anyway.” 

Another two hours of celebrating, filled with drunken toasts and more card games with Sofie’s family that only end with you digging into their pockets even deeper, fly by before the exhaustion of a day starting in one continent and ending in another catches up to him. You’re too busy arguing over if Jeonghan cheated in the last round to notice Seungcheol slipping away from the table and towards the door leading inside.

Sofie is in the kitchen just beyond, another bottle of wine sloshing in hand as she talks animatedly on the phone. “Okay, look. I am on vacation. I’m about to get married. I literally left notes for everything I'm not working on during my wedding week. Figure it out. Bye.”

She hangs up without response, tossing her phone on the counter before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Good?” Seungcheol asks.

“Oh, you know, just the usual. I leave and suddenly no one knows how to do their job.” Sofie rolls her eyes. “What’s up? Need another glass?”

She raises the same bottle and the thought of more wine nearly turns his stomach.  

Seungcheol brushes her off, moving to the sink and rinsing his glass with finality. “I think I’m gonna crash for the night.”

“Really?” she asks. “But the party just started!”

“For you maybe, some of us have been cramped on a plane all day.” He feels it. In his back and knees. The cramp in his neck from passing out halfway through and waking up bent at ninety degrees. And the hours he spent agonizing through emails with the inflight WiFi because even on vacation he can’t sit still for more than one minute. But now it’s a ticking time bomb before he curls up in a chair and passes out until morning.

Sofie snatches his glass before shooing him away from the sink and taking his place. “I forgot you’re an old man now.”

“You’re the same age as me?”

“Anyway,” she sings. “I know we promised you’d have your own room but—”

“That’s fine. I really don’t mind rooming with one of the guys.”

“Well… you and Y/N were the only ones not sharing and she said she wouldn’t mind for the weekend.”

“Huh?”

“I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal! Seokmin and Kwan agreed to share and room with Josh so things are pretty tight but I can see if we can switch things around and—”

“No, if she’s okay with it then it's fine.” Seungcheol says. “We just haven’t talked since, you know?”

Sofie seems to soften at that. “Seems like everything was fine outside.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs. “I missed her.” 

“I know she missed you too.”

“She said that?”

“Oh please, neither of you have to say anything, you’re both pathetic,” she says while pouring another glass. “But I think this weekend will be good for you guys! Like old times.”

Old times. Before the fight. Before you moved away.

“Yeah, just like old times… At least we aren’t sharing a bed, right?” He jokes. 

“Actually,” Sofie grimaces. 

The one solace Seungcheol is gifted is the bed is massive. Almost the entire room is dominated by the plush mattress, a dresser, and a chair in the corner. He considers sleeping in that instead for all of a minute before realizing you probably wouldn’t let him and the absolute torture it’ll do to his neck. 

At least the forced proximity won’t be awkward since you’ve silently agreed to leave the past behind you. He can’t imagine Sofie would consider this solution if you were still mad at him, even if it was her wedding week. The realization lightens the weight on his shoulders an ounce more.

Seungcheol throws his bag down at the foot of the bed. It’s no big deal; sharing a room with you. Childhood sleepovers had been the norm, a few nights in college you’d shared a clunky old twin bed when you both were too drunk to find your ways home separately. Your first apartment together, when you two had to share a mattress on the floor for the first weeks because all your money went into paying rent, flash in his head. Old times.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and in clean clothes, Seungcheol heads back downstairs for a glass of water before bed.

He remembers where the kitchen is after Sofie’s short tour, trapezing through the huge house easily. Behind different closed doors he catches glimpses of pre-sleep conversations: couples spitting harsh whispers to each other, a few cartoonish voices reading bedtime stories to an audience of childish giggles. But when he reaches the threshold of his destination Seungcheol stumbles into an entirely different atmosphere.

“You haven’t told him yet?”

“No. I didn’t feel like the kind of thing to say over text.”

“Well you could have called him!”

“And say what? ‘Hey Cheol, I know we haven’t talked in months because we got into a huge fight about my boyfriend but Johnny and I–’”

Seungcheol strains his ears to hear the rest of your sentence but fails to decipher anything before Jeonghan’s voice cuts in. Whatever ‘it’ is, you’re not ready to tell him.

“Just tell him.” Jeonghan says through a mouthful of something. “I’m sure he’ll be happy.”

His mind races with a million possibilities, all related to Johnny, all things you wouldn’t have told your best friend of over twenty years because of some stupid fight. Something you don’t know how to tell him over the phone, something you need to tell in person.

The realization strikes like lightning.

You and Johnny are engaged.

Thirst forgotten, Seungcheol turns back the way he came. He thinks through the new information as he stumbles up the stairs.

How could you not tell him? How could he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him? How long have you been hiding this? And why did Jeonghan and Sofie know before he did? Was everyone in on the secret and he was the odd man out?

You and Johnny weren’t even that serious when you moved away; or, that's what Seungcheol thought. In all honesty he fully believed it was some joke when you told him. A drunken practical joke taken too far but then the boxes were packed away and the moving truck came and you left with it. 

Everything else hits him in the seclusion of the bedroom. Your shared room. At least for the rest of the week.

Seungcheol isn’t happy. He is, but because you’re you, argument aside. If Johnny makes you happy enough to tie your lives together then he can bite his tongue. You’re his best friend and by default he’d never think anyone was good enough for you but if you loved Johnny, if you were this serious about him, then Seungcheol would support you.

Even if it meant there would always be a Johnny sized ravine between you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited

[gurugirl]

an adorable bad boy | loveable!rogue!harry

This is part 1 of a Patreon series (all 10 parts have been posted on Patreon already). If you'd like more check out my Patreon! xoxo

A loveable rogue is someone who breaks the law for personal profit while being nice and charming, likely with a sad or dark past.

AU Premise: Harry has been in and out of jail for nearly a decade due to a string of bad luck and bad choices. But he's not a bad guy. Not really.

Summary: Harry's trying to keep on the straight and narrow now that he's out of jail but things have never come easy for him. And then he meets the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. Maybe things won't be so bad after all. If only she'd give him her number.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: Mentions of drugs and the sale of drugs, mentions of jail time

❊❊❊

Harry’s life sucked. Every time he tried to get on the right track, his past would come back to haunt him. He took responsibility for the things he did and he knew he deserved to have the book thrown at him. But he also knew where he came from didn’t make things easier for him. Starting at a young age he had to act like an adult and do things most people would never imagine needing to do just to get by.

Now, nearing 30, he was determined to get his shit together. If he had to step foot in another jail cell again he was going to just end it. He couldn’t handle another sentence that had him losing a job, his car, the place he was staying… Every time he got into trouble it was like he had to start over again. From scratch.

And he was always well-behaved once behind bars so he usually got out early on good behavior. But keeping out of trouble as a free man was nearly impossible. He’d be tossed out on the street once he was released but with no place to go and not a dime to his name, times were hard. He had to hustle for a dollar. And when he meant hustle, it usually involved something illegal.

Getting a job that paid well was a joke. No one wanted a convicted felon. No one would hire a man who had a criminal record. Why risk it? He sure as hell wouldn’t if he were in their shoes.

There was no program to help him reintegrate. No help for a safe spot to sleep. Shelters wouldn’t even allow him a safe haven due to his past. He had nothing. Incarceration meant drudging through, keeping his head down, and following directions. That was easy. But there was nothing easy about rebuilding his life over and over again once he was out from behind bars.

His sister wouldn’t answer his calls anymore. He’d drained that well dry. His mother had cut him off too. His cousin was a last resort, but that’s sort of how his life was these days. Everything was a last resort.

“Harry! My dude! You get out?”

He was leaning against a tall residential building in an alley with a cigarette in hand. The phone he was using was the one that he had when he got locked up, kept for him upon his release. The officer helping him fill out his release forms allowed him to charge his phone before they pushed him out the doors. How kind.

The wifi signal from the bookstore gave him access to his apps so he could make the phone call he was dreading.

“Yep. Glad to be out of there. How are you doing?” He figured he’d make some small talk before getting to the point. He didn’t want to be rude, after all.

Saul gave him the rundown of what had been going on with everyone. And then Harry learned he was engaged.

“Wow. Congrats, cousin. Proud of you. You guys living together?”

“Nah. Not until after the wedding. She’s a really good girl. Super sweet. Her whole family is. Just like, the nicest people I’ve ever met. But she doesn’t want to move in until we’re married since that looks bad to her parents,” Saul laughed. “They’re super conservative about stuff like that. They think she’s still a virgin.”

Harry humored him with a chortle through the phone and then sighed. The sun was going down. Small talk needed to come to a halt. He had to get this part over with.

“So, uh… hate to ask this but um, could you let me crash at your place for a few nights? I’ve got nowhere to go since I just got out and gonna be cold tonight. Otherwise, I’d just sleep in the park or something.”

Silence for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“Did you ask your sister? I mean I’m sure–“

“She hates me right now. Won’t take my calls. But man, look, it’s okay if you can’t. I get it.”

“You know what? Sure. You can stay here for a bit. I know shit’s hard. How you gettin’ here?”

Harry let out the breath he’d been holding in and leaned his head back into the building in relief, “Gonna walk. Literally have nothing to my name. Just my old cell phone, half charged, and this free wifi I’m using to call you. I can get there in like an hour.”

Saul told him he’d pick him up but Harry didn’t want to trouble him anymore than he had. It was already embarrassing asking for help. Plus a walk through the city would feel good. It’d been a while since he’d seen the hustle and bustle of daily life in the city.

It was late September. He was wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt with boots. At least he had a beanie on his head. His cousin lived in one of those “up-and-coming” neighborhoods. Gritty but recently gentrified. His flat was two floors up. A flimsy plastic call button for the residents hung outside the reinforced glass door that opened up to a small lobby with mailboxes in the wall to the left and just beyond that, old wooden stairs that led up to each apartment.

Saul was on floor three. Harry took the stairs two at a time and the door was already open with his smiling cousin waiting for him and then a warm embrace that made Harry feel like maybe he was going to be okay. Silly as it sounded. He hadn’t been hugged in over a year. Hadn’t felt safe and relaxed in over a year.

“Ordered some pizza from this fire spot. Should be here soon. Beer?”

Harry could cry. He hadn’t had pizza or beer in over a year either. There was a lot he hadn’t had in over a year.

“Uh, yeah. Thank you, man.”

Harry followed Saul into his tiny galley kitchen and leaned against the frame of the door as he watched his cousin pull a beer from the fridge, “And thank you for everything. For this. I really mean it. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get a job.”

Handing Harry his beer Saul laughed, “We’ll see. Alyssa and I might need help for the wedding next summer. Her dad wants to have the wedding at their place. They’ve got this nice house with a massive garden in the back. But they need people to help landscape and do some manual labor to get it ready. Might save us a little money if you could help. But that’s a ways off,” he waved his hand as he walked past Harry into the living room. “Don’t worry about it right now. I’ll figure out a way you can pay me back.”

. . .

A few nights turned into a few weeks. And Harry did find a job, but he’d need to save up for a while longer to be able to afford a place on his own. He figured, at least he could pay Saul for food and help pay some of the bills in the meantime.

Fortunately, the job he found paid pretty well. Unfortunately, it was illegal. It was what had gotten him thrown in jail in the first place.

Selling drugs. Mainly weed. Some shrooms, ecstasy, molly… party drugs.

He applied to 28 places. Twenty. Eight. Dishwasher, food prep, janitor, midnight stocker, busboy, fast food line cook… everything he could find from places that might take a chance on someone with a record. After a week of having Harry sleeping on his couch, Saul appeared to be getting frustrated. So, Harry did what he always did when he needed money (and who doesn’t need money?). He called Memo.

Memo always had a spot for Harry. And because he trusted Harry he gave him an advance.

The first thing Harry did with his money was buy some clothes for himself and groceries for the house. Getting rid of his supply was easy. He still had all his old contacts to sell to and with Harry’s natural charm, he was introduced to even more people who wanted some killer weed and Harry was their man.

Saul seemed to lighten up a bit when Harry began paying him cash for his part of the bills and to help cover some of the rent.

Being a drug dealer bought him time. Eventually, he’d find a better gig. He knew there were places that would hire felons, he just had to be patient. But in the meantime, doing shady shit to get by was necessary.

“So, I’m going out tonight. With Alyssa and a few others. Just going to Ray’s. You can join us if you want.”

Harry was sitting on the couch readying himself for another night in but maybe going out with his cousin for a few beers could be fun, “Anyone I know going?”

Saul shook his head, “Doubt it. It’ll be Alyssa, her little sister, and a few of our mutual friends.”

Harry figured it was better if the people that were going to be there didn’t know him. And besides, what better way to spend a Friday night as a single man? Sitting at Saul’s house was fine, but going out and meeting new people with a few beers in hand sounded a hell of a lot better.

Harry nodded, “Why not?”

. . .

Roy’s might have been an old hole in the wall, but it was a popular old hole in the wall. Harry could hear the music before they walked into the black brick building with the lighted, vintage metal sign that hung above the door.

The smell of stale cigarettes and beer hung in the dark space, a shiny lacquered bar that ran half the length of the room, high-top tables, two pool tables, and a few booths.

Alyssa nearly pummeled Saul, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him on the cheek as she squealed.

“We’re just over here! Tony got us a big booth 'cause he got here early.” She pulled Saul along with her. Harry followed.

The group that came into view were two young men and two young women. He barely had a chance to take it all in before Alyssa pulled his arm, “Everyone! This is Harry, Saul’s cousin. The one we were telling you about.”

The one we were telling you about. Harry knew what that meant.

Harry smiled and nodded as he slid into the booth. It was long and easily accommodated all seven of them.

“I’m Kelin,” the man he sat next to held his hand out to Harry to shake. The one next to Kelin greeted Harry, “I’m Tony,” he turned and looked at the girl next to him, “And this is my girlfriend, Dasha.” Dasha smiled and waved at Harry.

Then as Alyssa moved into the opposite side of the booth with Saul at the end she hugged the girl next to Dasha, “And this is my little sister, Y/n.”

Some moments in time are unexplainable. Like moments when things feel like fate but you don’t believe in that sort of thing. Or like when someone is speaking a language you don’t know but you swear you understood everything they just said. Sometimes it was more like a riddle you couldn’t figure out all day only to wake up in the middle of the night from a dream with the answer.

The moment Y/n set her pretty gaze upon Harry was like that for him. Something inexplicable. Something enchanting. Almost mythical.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Harry spoke as he tried to tear his eyes from the angel called Y/n. He forced his pupils away to look at everyone else but his heart was already beginning to thump violently in his chest.

Drinks were ordered and conversation resumed to wherever it was left off before Saul and Harry’s arrival.

“So, we were discussing anything but the wedding!” Dasha laughed as Alyssa moaned exaggeratedly.

“I was only letting you guys know the theme!” Alyssa laughed.

“Girl, tonight is a night off. And the wedding isn’t for like another 8 months!”

Harry tried to focus on the conversation as he sipped his beer but he couldn’t help allowing his eyes the indulgence of Y/n’s pretty face. She had some kind of clear drink. A vodka soda maybe. And when Kelin started talking about the Halloween party he was throwing Y/n’s eyes met Harry’s again and he thought he was going to fall limp to the floor in a puddle at her feet.

He didn’t even know what her voice sounded like and he was already imagining waking up next to her in the morning and getting to see her disheveled hair and warm pajamas and soft, tired eyes. He had never had such a visceral reaction to anyone before. Ever.

Another round of drinks made its way to the table and Harry hardly spoke a word. Y/n only laughed a few times at what was being said but otherwise, she remained quiet as she sipped her drink.

He needed to talk to her. He needed to learn all about her. He wasn’t sure why it felt so important, so vital to him. But every time she looked at him his throat went dry and he searched her face for any sign that she might be feeling the same odd connection that he was feeling.

“I need a cigarette,” Y/n spoke as she looked at Alyssa, making Saul and Alyssa scoot out of the booth to let her out.

Harry tapped his fingers on the table as he watched her walk past before speaking up, “Yeah, me too.” He hopped up from the booth and jogged to catch up with his dream girl before she could push the door open.

“Allow me,” he grabbed the handle and opened the door for her.

“What a gentleman. Thank you,” she grinned teasingly at him and Harry felt his head swirl and his knees go weak. She smiled at him and he was sure he was in love at that moment.

“I try,” he chuckled as he followed her to the edge of the building before she pulled out her pack of cigarettes. Harry liked the same brand.

He pulled out his lighter and held it out as she put the filter between her lips. The flame lit the tip and then Harry put his own cigarette into his mouth and lit it.

“You have good taste,” Y/n gestured with her cigarette toward his and watched his mouth as he inhaled the smoke into his lungs.

“Guess we both do,” he blew the smoke out and it mixed with the smoke she blew out at the same time.

“Heard you recently got out of jail. Alyssa told me to keep my distance,” she laughed as she took another puff, her eyes on his.

“Yeah. Trying to keep on the straight and narrow now. Jail sucks,” he let his gaze wander over her lips and jawline and down to her neck, “I’m not that bad, though. You gonna get in trouble with your big sister for having a smoke with me?”

She snorted (which Harry found adorable and irresistible) and shook her head, “I’m an adult. She tries to act protective and tough but she knows better than to tell me what I can and can’t do. In fact,” she took a drag and lowered her gaze to Harry’s outfit and then back up to his eyes before exhaling, “When she tells me not to do something it just makes me want to do it more.”

Harry felt his face grow warm as he listened to her speak and couldn’t help the smile that took over his face, dimples winking awake in his cheeks.

“Oh shit,” she leaned into the brick and crossed an arm over her middle, one arm angled out with the cigarette propped between her two fingers, “You’ve got dimples.”

Harry ashed his stick, keeping the smile on his face, “I guess I do. Is it okay?”

Y/n laughed softly, the prettiest sound Harry had ever heard, and nodded, “Of course it’s okay. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable…” Harry repeated as he leaned his shoulder into the brick and faced Y/n, “Think I’m adorable?” He pulled his lips into his mouth, tamping his wide smile as he blushed. Yeah, he was blushing.

She reached her hand up to his shoulder-length hair to tug at a curl, “You are. Pretty curls, green eyes, dimples. I get why Alyssa didn’t want me to get mixed up with you. An adorable bad boy. Dangerous combo.”

Harry shook his head and looked down at her feet before winding his pupils up her frame to her face, “Bad boy? Nah, not really. Just made some stupid decisions.”

Y/n shrugged and pulled at her cigarette before blowing out the hot smoke, “Mmm….” She pursed her lips and squinted at him, “You’re definitely a bad boy. You kind of emanate that persona. And I bet you use those dimples to charm all the ladies.”

Harry chuckled and looked down again to give his retinas a break from her breathtaking beauty. When he looked back at her he shook his head slowly, “If anything you’re the charmer. Making me blush over here.”

She giggled and leaned her head back as she looked up into the sky. Harry was not going to be getting over her laugh. He knew he’d be dreaming about it too.

“I’m just honest is all. Not particularly charming I don’t think.”

Harry shook his head and pointed at her, “No. You are definitely charming. Sweeping me right off my feet.”

“Oh, I am? Falling for me already, Harry?” She smirked at him and turned her body to face his, mimicking his stance.

Was it too soon for him to fall for her? Yes. But Harry was never one to play by usual timelines. He grinned and licked his lips, “Be bad if I said I was?”

She puffed out a laugh, “Probably would be bad. You don’t even know me. I’m really not all that great. Lots of issues. Very unstable,” she laughed as she gestured at her head and then wrapped her lips around the filter to inhale.

“If that’s the case, then you’re just that much cuter,” Harry parted his lips to place the cigarette between them as he kept his eyes on hers.

She bit her lip and turned to look out into the street, “You gonna go to the Halloween party next week?”

Harry shook his head, “Probably not. Wasn’t invited. Don’t like to dress up for shit like that anyway.”

“Hmm… If you go I’ll go,” she turned to look at him and raised her brows.

Harry stitched his brows together and tilted his head, “Are you serious?”

She nodded, “Sure. Why not. Wasn’t planning on going either but I will if you do.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her and grinned, “Still wasn’t invited, though. We’ll see.”

Y/n tossed her butt down to the ground and stepped over the tip to crunch out the burning end, “Probably should get back in there. Alyssa’s gonna think we’ve run off together. That’d really get her going.”

Harry chuckled and followed suit with his own cigarette and nodded before following her back to the booth in the bar.

This time, as luck would have it, Harry scooted into his original spot and Y/n sat down next to him at the end.

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke,” Alyssa frowned at Y/n and Harry leaned forward to put his elbows on the table as he turned to look at Y/n’s profile. She was certainly stunning.

Y/n shook her head and looked at Dasha, “Will you pass my drink down?”

Harry looked down at his lukewarm beer and pushed himself into the seat, his back hitting the vinyl cushion behind him before turning his head to watch as Y/n drank from her glass.

Everyone at the table resumed their conversation but both Harry and Y/n were thinking about the way their thighs were pressed together and how warm it felt. How nice it was.

“You’re staring,” she whispered with a grin as she set her glass down on the table and turned slightly to see the limn of his outline in her peripheral.

He grinned as he leaned his shoulder into hers as he spoke quietly, “Can’t help it.”

Harry tried to be as subtle as possible with everyone around but his skin was tingling in delight any time she shifted to pick up her glass her thigh ran against the stretch of his jeans. He regretted that he couldn’t stare into her beautiful eyes but he loved her nearness. The smell of her perfume and her shampoo.

“So, Harry,” Tony spoke up, “What do you do for fun?”

Harry was caught off guard. He’d been far too focused on the girl next to him that he nearly forgot he might need to participate in a conversation.

He laughed and looked at Saul and then to Tony, “I like music a lot. Um… reading. I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“He used to be in a band. Plays guitar and sings. He can play almost any instrument actually,“ Saul chimed in.

Harry rolled his eyes when everyone began to ask questions. He didn’t enjoy talking about himself because then that wound up leading to discussing his time in jail. Thankfully no one brought it up, though he was sure everyone already knew anyway. Saul wasn’t exactly discreet.

When the bill was paid after everyone threw down some cash, Y/n slid out of the booth with Harry right behind her, “Can I have your number?” He spoke so only she could hear as he brushed his fingers against hers.

She stopped and turned toward him, a mischievous grin on her face, “I’ll give you my number if you come to the party next weekend.”

Everyone began to walk to the door and Y/n turned to leave but Harry wasn’t done. He felt his heart walloping in his chest as he hastened his steps after her, pulling at her hand as stealthily as possible, “I can’t just crash a party I wasn’t invited to.”

When they stepped outside Y/n moved to the side to let everyone walk past and she looked up at Harry, “If you don’t come then you don’t get my number. It’s up to you.”

Harry swallowed as he looked down at the pretty girl in amazement, “Fine. I’ll be there.”

She smiled sweetly and raised her hand to poke at his dimple, “I know you will.”

NEXT PART (link goes to Patreon)

I hope you enjoyed part 1! This is the only part I'll be posting on Tumblr. If you want more check out my Patreon 💕

General tags: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @icumforbaldrry @harrrrystylesslut @straightontilmornin @elidoho @bananabk9756

[seat-safety-switch]

All the degenerates know what day of the week the local thrift store puts out its new merchandise. We would join up in the parking lot, queuing for the door, ready to put an elbow into each others’ faces for the first whack at a timing light, obscure videogame, or an industrial-strength blender some normal person just didn’t know how to maintain. Now, though, buying stuff at a thrift store in order to list on eBay for double or triple its official price is a job. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s a job.

That’s what the internet says, at least. If your boss isn’t paying you enough, you shouldn’t go into his office and open him up with a straight razor. You shouldn’t even ask for a raise while balancing a heavy cleaver dangerously close to his index fingers, after you and the other shop techs handcuff his wrist to his desk drawer. No, you should just use up some of your free time on a “side hustle.” Sure, you’re still working for a pittance, but it’s your pittance. If your hobby doesn’t make money, then fuck off. Only the rich can afford not to be profitable doing the things they love.

So, all across this great nation, we see folks driving hundreds of kilometres to buy new things from Walmart, and then sell them on Amazon. Now, when you go to Walmart, all the Recycled Engine Oil Product® from Hyun-seung Heavy Industrial Concern has been raptured up into the internet, where folks will pay approximately seventeen cents more per bottle in order to get it delivered. And that’s just new stuff – now, when I throw my fist into someone’s face at the thrift store, I’m no longer just worried about what reprisals will await me in the parking lot, but also if I am starving the children of the family which depends on eBay’s PowerSeller® reduced-fee incentive structure. Not enough to not throw that punch, mind you, but maybe just a little bit softer than I used to. Dental work is expensive, even if you do it yourself. Some asshole keeps buying up all the two-part dental epoxy that gets donated to the industrial surplus store and listing it on eBay, too.

Don’t worry, though. I’m in it for the love of the game. There’s no way I’d ever – wait a minute, people are paying how much for intact Volare dashboards? I sure hope I have enough sawzall blades to get all these out before the post office closes.

[penmansparadise]

Ed Nygma ~ The Set Up

Pairing: Ed Nygma x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Mild language

A/N: Hello!  It's been quite some time since I've posted and written.  I have been recently watching Gotham, and I'm obsessed.  This is the first time I've ever dabbled in the DC realm, so please go easy on me.  This will hopefully be the first of several one shots for the show Gotham.  Please do not be afraid to send in a request but do know that I am only at the beginning of Season 3, so who I write for may be limited.  But if you like this one, please send in a request for another!  I hope you all enjoy

§

The sound of your shoes against the tile floor mixed with the hustle and bustle of the GCPD. You moved around officers hauling in criminals screaming for justice as you made your way to your little corner of the building. You hadn’t been working at the GCPD for long. In fact, you were happy where you were previously employed. You would have stayed there forever had a former employee, who was now caged up in Arkham, not decided to torch the place. So, when you found yourself out of a job, you did what any ordinary distraught adult would do. You called your best friend and scheduled a date for some much-needed wine therapy. Unfortunately for you, your best friend was hanging out with her close buddy, Kristen Kringle, when said call was made.

You had only met Kristen a handful of times and were not a fan. She always struck you as shallow. Every time you spent time with her, she would only ever talk about how much she hated her job but enjoyed all the male attention from the officers. So, naturally, when your best friend told you that Kristen could get you a job as her assistant at the GCPD, you were a little skeptical. But, since your options were limited, you reluctantly accepted and eventually found yourself being Kristen’s own personal servant.

You hurried through the building until you came upon the Record’s Room door. Just as you were about to enter, the trill of Kristen’s giggle filled your ears, causing you to pause. You peeked around the corner to find Officer Dougherty trailing his fingers up and down Kristen’s arm. His head was angled down as he whispered something into her ear, earning another laugh. You rolled your eyes before turning on your heel with a huff and headed toward the M.E.’s office. When you entered the room, it was empty. Lee always ran a bit late, but you knew she wouldn’t mind if you hid in her office. She was used to it by now.

You dropped your bag onto the floor and began aimlessly walking around the room. Vials of odd-colored liquids were chilling in a refrigerator, and several medical tools were lined on the table in the middle of the room. You meandered over to the lone skeleton in the corner and began lifting up its limp arms. You gave them a light shake causing the whole thing to rattle when the door opened.

“Making friends over there?” Lee asked.

You dropped the arms and let out a little chuckle.

“I couldn’t help myself. He looked a little bonely.”

“Not a pun this early in the morning, Y/N” Lee groaned.

You just smiled as you moved to plop down into her roller chair. As you watched Lee set up for the day, you began slowly spinning the chair. She sent you a glance over her shoulder.

“Kristen has company again?”

You scoffed and said, “Officer Dougherty, now.”

“She sure moved on quickly from Flass.”

With every spin, you briefly looked at Lee and said, “Don’t even get me started.”

Lee let out a breathy laugh and then continued to move around the room. You were spinning in silence when the door opened again, and none other than Ed Nygma entered. You slammed your feet down in an attempt to stop the spinning and nearly sent yourself flying from the chair. A bright smile spread across Ed’s face the second your eyes locked with his.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Hi, Ed,” you said, his name coming out like a secret you didn’t want anyone else to know.

“I thought I might find you here.”

You and Ed hit it off immediately, which inevitably meant that your crush for him blossomed rather quickly. You remember it like it was yesterday. It was your first day on the job, and Kristen had delegated sorting to you. So, you were crouched behind the filing cabinets going through shelves of folders, when Ed walked into the Record’s Room. You didn’t see him right away. You could only hear was his chipper and smooth voice as he greeted Kristen.

“Though my beauty is becoming,” he said, his smile seeping into every word, “I can hurt you just the same; I come in many colors; I am what I am by any other name. What am I?”

Kristen groaned.

��Mr. Nygma, I’m really not in the mood for one of your little riddles.”

“Do you give up?” Ed had asked, not even caring about Kristen’s hostile tone.

You could hear her huff before she said, “Yeah, I give up.”

You didn’t even know him yet, but for some reason, the way Kristen was treating him was pissing you off. Maybe that’s what possessed you to answer his riddle when he began to give the answer.

“I’m a–”

“Rose,” you said as you stood up, revealing yourself.

His eyes snapped to you, and you took a sharp breath. He was cuter than he sounded. Tall with hair combed almost systematically and eyes the color of a warm cup of coffee. And when he directed his smile toward you, it felt like you were struck by lightning. He pulled a rose you didn’t see him holding from behind his back and handed it to you.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

You took the rose from him, your fingers just barely grazing his velvety skin. His eyes traveled over every inch of your face, from the arch of your brow to the curve of your lips.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he began, extending his hand to you. “I’m Ed Nygma.”

You placed your hand in his large palm and couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

The corners of his lips curled upward as he shook your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.”

He held onto your hand for a moment longer than necessary before finally taking his exit. You were frozen in time as your body reacted to him even though he was no longer in the room. You could barely hear when Kristen began to whine about how Ed was the guy she told your best friend about who wouldn’t leave her alone. Her voice became a hum as you stared at the rose Ed gave you, and all you could think was that you were glad Kristen didn’t like him because you did. A lot.

That was six months ago. And ever since that first meeting, Ed would visit you every morning and give you a riddle. His daily ritual only furthered your feelings for him. As the months rolled on, you did your best to conceal your emotions, but it seemed that everyone knew of your ever-growing crush. Of course, that was everyone but Ed.

You sat up a little straighter in your chair as you waited for Ed to deliver his daily riddle.

“When you stop to look, you can always see me. But,” he said, sticking a finger in the air, “if you try to touch me, you can never feel me. Although you walk towards me, I remain the same distance from you. What am I?”

You began nibbling on your lower lip as you tried to work through the riddle, whispering to yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed as you brought your hand to your chin.

“Do you give up?” He asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You waved your hands at him as you let out a string of “no’s,” but after a few more minutes of nothing, you finally let out a defeated huff.

“I give up. What is it?”

Ed’s grin grew, then he said, “The horizon.”

You threw your head back and groaned earning a laugh from Ed.

“I should’ve gotten that one!” You shouted. “That was a good riddle. Right, Lee?”

Lee hummed in response.

“Yeah, it was.”

Ed gave her a nod and said, “Good morning, Dr. Thompkins.”

“Ed,” Lee began with a gentle smile, “please just call me Lee.”

“Right. My apologies, Lee.”

He turned back to you, and your heart jumped in your chest. Even after all these months, you were still unable to figure out how he had such an effect on you. Ed just existing made you melt. You couldn’t help but think what would happen if he ever got his hands on you. Your bottom lip slid between your teeth at the thought.

“Well,” Ed said, pulling you back to reality, “I better head out. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later, Miss Y/L/N.”

You nodded and let out a weak “Okay,” before Ed turned and began walking toward the door. As he went to leave, you looked at Lee, who mouthed, “Say something,” to which you quickly shook your head. Lee rolled her eyes, and just before the door shut behind Ed, she called out to him. At first, the door remained shut, but when it slowly opened again, your heart sank. You tried to control the way your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you watched Lee, but you knew how you were feeling was written all over your face. Ed reentered the room and looked between the two of you.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked, his innocence doing something to your insides.

“No, of course not!” Lee said, moving toward him. “No, um, I was just thinking about our conversation we had a while back about cooking. Do you remember that?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you sent Lee a look, but she ignored you. Ed nodded.

“Y-yes, I do.”

Lee smiled, and to the normal eye, it may have looked endearing. But to you, a close friend, you knew she was scheming.

“I remember you mentioned how you loved to cook and would like to have a double date with Jim and me.”

Your spine straightened, and you began to stand from your chair.

“Lee…”

“I was just wondering if you were free tonight?” Lee asked, ignoring your protest.

Ed’s eyes flitted from Lee’s to yours and back. His cheeks began to redden as he dropped his head and absentmindedly fixed his glasses.

“Oh,” he began, “um, I-I am free, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold up my end of the whole double date thing. I, uh, I don’t have a date.”

Lee’s gaze snapped to yours briefly before saying, “Just bring Y/N!”

Your whole body was tense, and you clenched your fists at your side.

“Lee,” you said, but it was as if you weren’t even in the room.

“I’m sure she has no plans.”

“Lee!” You barked, finally gaining her attention.

You gave her a look, but when Ed turned to face you, you did your best to look as if you weren’t about to pass out or commit murder. He began to fidget with his glasses again and avoided your stare as he said, “I, uh, if you’re free, um, would you like to maybe join us for dinner, Miss Y/L/N?”

When his stare finally met yours, you could see the vulnerability deep in his eyes. You looked at Lee briefly before nodding.

“I’d love to, Ed,” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You could almost see the tension leave his body as he relaxed his shoulders.

“Fantastic. How does seven sound?”

Lee clapped a hand on Ed’s shoulder and said, “That sounds perfect. We’ll see you later.”

A grin spread across Ed’s face before he gave a curt nod and exited once more. And as soon as the door shut behind him, you turned to Lee, who looked smug.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, but Lee didn’t care. She just looked at you and crossed her arms.

“You’re welcome,” she said, causing your jaw to drop, but before you could argue, she held her hand up to stop you. “I don’t want to hear why you think what I did was wrong. Now, you better head to records before someone starts looking for you.”

You stood frozen with your mouth agape for another moment before finally letting out a groan and grabbing your bag from the floor.

“This isn’t over!” You shouted as you showed yourself out, and just as the door was shutting, you could hear Lee’s chuckle.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. No matter how hard you tried to focus on work, your mind was elsewhere. A thousand scenarios were running through your head. What if Ed called you and told you that he actually found a date and didn’t want you to show up? What if he didn’t call and you got to his place only to see some other woman? Your stomach rolled at the thought. Even though you were excited to finally have an unofficial date with Ed, you couldn’t help the way your heart was trying to run away from you.

By the time your shift ended, it felt like you had aged fifteen years. You had been stressing for eight hours, and the evening hadn’t even begun yet. Kristen had already left by the time you gathered your things and began to make your way to the exit. You were digging through your bag when you ran into someone. When you looked up to apologize, you saw Lee and Jim.

“Oh! I’m so glad I ran into you,” Lee said with that same sneaky smile from earlier.

The hairs on the back of your neck stuck up as you asked, “Why?”

Lee let out a sigh.

“We won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight.” She placed a hand on Jim’s back and gave a small pout. “Poor Jim here has come down with a stomach bug.”

You looked at Jim, who was avoiding your stare, and your eyes narrowed.

“He looks fine.”

Lee elbowed him in the side, and Jim slowly brought his closed fist up to his mouth before giving a cough. You furrowed your eyebrows and let out a dry laugh.

“Did you just fake cough?”

Jim shuffled his feet a bit then, in the most monotonous tone, said, “I have been instructed to get bed rest…doctor’s orders.”

Your eyes grew as you looked back at Lee.

“Is he being serious?”

Lee just gave a bashful grin and a shrug before turning to usher Jim out of the precinct.

“Hey!” You shouted after them, but they didn’t turn around, and soon you were standing alone in the bullpen.

“Son of a bitch,” you whispered through gritted teeth as you exited the building and made your way to your vehicle.

It was as if you were on autopilot as you drove home. And when you finally arrived at your apartment, you could barely focus on getting ready for the evening. Your thoughts were a whirlwind. You and Ed had never been alone together before. In fact, you never spent any time together outside of work. Here and there, you would talk on the phone, sometimes even late into the evening, but you had never been on a date. You weren’t sure what to expect, especially now that Lee and Jim wouldn’t be there as a buffer. But even though Lee had set you up and you were nervous, maybe even scared, you still drove to Ed’s apartment at seven. You hiked up the stairs until you were staring at his cold metal front door. Your hands were shaking, and you turned to look at the steps that would lead you right back to the comfort of your car. You could have easily just gone back home and blamed your absence on a headache or your nonexistent sick goldfish. But you didn’t. Instead, you raised your shaky hand and knocked on Ed’s door.

It took him a moment to get to the door, but when it slid open, and you saw him, your heart fluttered in your chest. His normally well-manicured hair was a little disheveled, only making him even more attractive. A bright smile split across his face.

“You came,” he said as he opened the door even further to allow you to enter.

You walked in and were immediately blanketed with a decadent smell emanating from the kitchen, and something that reminded you of clean linen. Your eyes shut for a minute as you took a deep breath. You only opened them again when you heard Ed shut the door and ask, “Do you know when Dr. Thompkins and Detective Gordon will be joining us?”

You let out a sigh and made a mental note to maim Lee when you saw her at work again.

“Um,” you cleared your throat and turned to face Ed,” they’re actually not coming.”

“Oh?”

With that simple sentence, you could see the anxiety seep into Ed’s demeanor.

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “Jim wasn’t feeling well.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a moment as Ed stared and processed what you said. His stare was glued to the floor, and you were starting to think this was a bad idea until he lifted his chocolate brown eyes to meet yours and gave you his award-winning smile.

“Well, I guess it’ll just be the two of us then.”

Before you could say anything in return, he hustled past you and entered the kitchen, resuming his work on setting the plates.

“Please, make yourself at home. Dinner is almost ready.”

You took in the apartment as you leisurely made your way toward the table. It was rather small, but everything about it screamed “Ed.” His decor was modern and simple, and there wasn’t one thing out of place. From the books sitting on his bookshelf to the vinyl he had stacked next to his record player, everything had its own spot.

When you finally made it to the table, Ed had just placed two perfectly crafted plates of food down. He pulled your chair out for you, and when you were seated, he took his place across from you. The food looked just as good as it smelt. You honestly weren’t expecting anything special but were pleasantly surprised when you took your first bite. Several flavors danced on your tongue, and you had to hold back a moan.

“Ed,” you said a little too breathy, “this tastes amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

A pleased grin pulled at Ed’s lips, and he shrugged.

“Cooking is like a science, is it not?”

You gave a small chuckle before diving back into your plate. The rest of the meal went by in silence. You were too immersed in your food to even bother starting a conversation. But the way Ed’s foot tapped incessantly under the table did not go unnoticed. And when you both finished, Ed nearly jumped from his seat to gather all the dishes and begin cleaning. You followed him into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel. Neither of you spoke as you worked. But you could see a slight shake in Ed’s typically steady hands as he washed the plates. You noticed how every few seconds, he pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose, despite them not needing to be adjusted. You saw how his shoulders were just slightly more tense than usual. How could you not notice? For six months, you had cataloged everything about Ed and stowed it away in your mind. You knew everything about him, even if you tried to deny it. And as badly as you wanted to convince yourself that the evening was going well, you knew that Ed had been acting different since you had arrived.

When the kitchen was cleaned, you hung the dish towel to dry and leaned against the counter opposite Ed. His eyes never met yours, but your gaze was trained on his fidgeting figure. His hair was even more tousled than before, showcasing the beginnings of a few curls. Your fingers itched to brush them back off his forehead, but you didn’t dare move. And you knew the easy thing to do would be to just grab your things and say goodnight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Instead, you took a deep breath and said, “Ed, is everything alright?”

His eyes flicked up from the floor to meet yours, and his forehead creased at your question.

“W-what do you mean?”

You threw your hands in the air and let out a small grunt.

“I mean, you’ve been acting weird all night.”

You watched as Ed swallowed as you continued.

“Usually, things aren’t so…tense between us,” you said to your shoes. Then you raised your eyes to meet his again. “Did I do something wrong?”

Ed’s face immediately softened at your question, and he closed the distance between the two of you. He took your hands in his as he shook his head.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything. It’s, uh,” he dropped his hold on you and began to pace.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered more to himself than you.

You furrowed your brow at him and tried to place your hand on his arm, but he was moving too erratically for you to touch him.

“Do what?” You asked, causing him to stop in front of you.

Ed took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, focusing his stare on you.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Ed,” you said, “just call me Y/N.”

He shook his head and readjusted his glasses once more.

“Right. Y/N.”

He looked at you again.

“I, uh, for a long time, um, oh geez.”

You watched as his mouth opened and closed several times before he balled up his fists, pressed them to his eyes, and let out a high-pitched whine.

“Ed,” you began, taking a step closer to him, “are you o–”

Suddenly, Ed’s hands dropped, and his eyes pierced into yours.

“I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express but the easiest to ignore.”

He took a deep breath and slowly inched toward you as he continued.

“I can be given to many or just one.”

His shaky and slender fingers traced down your arm sending shocks of electricity down your spine.

“What am I?” He asked, voice so low it was barely above a whisper.

Your mind was a muddle. There was no way you could think of an answer with his fingers brushing against yours and his heart clearly exposed. You shook your head, and Ed asked, “Do you give up?”

You gave a weak nod. Ed dropped your gaze for a brief moment before looking back at you and saying, “Love.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his answer, and your heart pounded against your chest. Ed laced his fingers together with yours.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since the first time I met you.”

Every part of you was buzzing from his admission. You had been waiting months for him to show you any sign that he felt the same way you did. When he didn’t, you began to think your feelings were one-sided. But here he was, standing in the middle of his kitchen, holding your hand, professing his love for you. Your knees felt like they were about to give out, and all the oxygen escaped your lungs. When you didn’t say anything right away, Ed started fidgeting again. He released your hand and began tapping his glasses.

“Oh, great,” he said to the floor, “Now you’re uncomfortable, and I just ruined the only real friendship I have. Way to go, Ed. You–“

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. Instead, you took his face between your hands and slammed your lips to his. He was stiff at first, but it only took a moment before his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His large hands gripped the fabric against your back, and you didn’t waste any time letting your hands thread through his hair. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion. The way Ed’s lips moved in sync with yours felt unhurried. The way the heat bubbling in your gut slowly seeped throughout the rest of your body felt like drinking a cup of hot cocoa after being out in a winter storm all day. It was everything you had imagined and more.

When you finally pulled back for air, you brought your eyes up to meet Ed’s and whispered, “I’m in love with you too, Ed.”

“Really?” He asked, incredulous.

You just nodded, earning a small laugh from Ed before he pressed his lips to yours again. The rest of the evening, you and Ed sat cuddled up on his couch, listening to his array of records while you made a mental note to not maim Lee but rather figure out how you could ever thank her for setting you and Ed up.  

*I do not own gif* *Credit to gif owner*

[onestormeynight]

Meeting The Canales

It was one of those rare days where everyone's schedules aligned and Rosie took the opportunity to take the twins to Oasis Springs to meet their grandfather, uncle and aunt. Rosie was nervous about how Ellie would treat them, but she steeled herself to follow through. Despite her efforts, Ellie just wasn't interested in a relationship with her except on the most surface of terms. Rosie suspected that if Ellie didn't adore Penny, she herself would not have been tolerated.

Uncle Sam, however, was more than happy to meet the girls now that they could properly remember him. He wiped at his nose and sniffed, hoping no one would notice.

"Hey Nellie, Ida," He said, nodding to each one.

"You got it backwards," Nellie said. "I'm Ida."

"I'm Nellie," Ida said.

"You're both tiny liars," Sam laughed. "I've known you your whole lives, I can tell the difference."

"Drat!" Nellie said.

"Come on, munchkins," he said ushering them towards the playground.

Rosie greeted her brother with a quick kiss on the cheek as he took her girls over to the space ship to play. Ellie gave him a judging look over her glasses as he went past.

"It's so good to see you," She said, grabbing Ellie's attention back. "It's been so long."

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Ellie said.

"Ellie," Ricky hissed. She rolled her eyes with a sigh.

"And how are you, Rosalie?"

"I'm good," She answered, slightly nervous now. "How have you guys been? How's school and work?"

"It's like, fine, or whatever." Ellie pulled her phone out and started typing away to someone.

"Things are going well," Ricky said, taking over the conversation. "I got the corner office I wanted last week."

"To our left, General!" Ida shouted to Nellie.

"That's your right, Captain!"

"No, that's left."

Sam jumped up with a roar and both girls screamed in glee. He pretended to shear off part of their ship and hustled off to "hide" in the bushes while they repaired. Captain Ida left her post to brave the outside of the ship, repairing the arm that held one of their engines.

"Oh, you don't really play chess?" Rosie said. "That's okay, I can teach you. I learned from my Grandfather Darion."

Ellie made a choking kind of laughing sound. "Um, like, okay? This is like, nerd shit, though."

"It's actually really good for your brain. I play with Sam when we hang out, too."

"Yeah. He's a nerd."

Rosie dropped her cheery demeanor. Minding the mean streak her husband and mother so recently pointed out to her, she stayed firm but without malice. Very calmly she moved one of her pieces.

"You don't like me," she said.

Ellie looked stunned to be called out so directly. "You're just not my vibe," she offered.

"That wasn't a question. You don't like me."

"Fine. You're right. I don't like you."

"Can you even give me a valid reason or is this your mother still talking?"

"Her reasons are valid. You more than likely are not Dad's. You're not my sister. You and your mother just wanted their relationship to fail and you got what you wanted."

"So," Rosie said, sitting back. "To be just perfectly clear, it's me and my mother's fault your mom decided to pick up strange and throw her marriage out the window? It's our fault that she said with her own mouth she hated being a mother and wife?"

Ellie paled under the bright sun. Clearly, Ricky had never given her the full story. Why would he? She wasn't an adult. It was complicated and heavy stuff. There was a way her body language changed, like Rosie had found the soft spot in her armour.

"Oh, I see. Well, I will say, that was really kind of Dad to spare you from," Rosie continued. "But, since we're having a heart to heart, I'll tell you. Your mother abandoned Sam because she didn't want the responsibility. My guess is that she favored you while you were small and malleable, but now that you have your own mind, she doesn't like you quite so much. She liked having a doll, she does not like having a daughter. Did I get that about right?" She looked her sister up and down. "Yeah. I think I did. One last thing, Ellie. It's fine if you want to be a heinous bitch to me, but if I see so much as a fucking sneer in my children's direction..." At this, she leaned over the chess table and made direct eye contact with Ellie. "I will solve the problem. "

"Are you threatening me?!"

"Directly."

((prev)) ((next))

[astrologicaldiary]

Reviewing my solar return chart 2023

Scorpio Rising

This year was a transformative year for me . I really had to work on personal things especially surrounding family. I got more into astrology and tarot, and also in some spells. I was wearing and buying a lot of black clothes. If I wasn’t working in the office , I would have some piercings and tattoos. And since Mars also rule Scorpio, I was in a car accident which I had a big settlement on.

Pluto in 4th house (Aquarius)

This one was tough, I had some family drama. I even shared a secret which left me to not support or trust my family as a whole especially a parent of mine . This was when I moved out which is against my culture. My culture think a woman should only moved out when she’s marry….And I don’t agree with that bs, and I’m a rebel . This was a huge shift for me …

Saturn and Neptune in 5th house (Pisces)

Definitely delay in dating and creativity. I created a YouTube and TikTok to create content and hope that I can do it as a side hustle. That shit didn’t work out …. I really didn’t date like that , but I wasn’t playing about my standards.

Chiron in 6th house (Aries)

One of my parent has Aries placements, so there are definitely a clash in our relationship. Plus , I hated doing chores and having a healthy routine. Plus my best friend is a Aries rising . So she would come to my place and help me clean a little but of course she was cursing me out to clean this and that ! I mean she was right but I’m a Taurus rising. Don’t tell me what to do 😂. Plus going to work was just a drag , I even tried to apply for new jobs that just didn’t work out ….

Uranus, mercury, north node and Jupiter in 7 house (Taurus )

I really disappointed in this placement! Y’all told me that if you have this placement, you could get in a relationship, which wasn’t true at all ! I had some connections with other people in some group therapy…. Ooohhhhh, my descendant is in this house . So I was connected with people who have went through some harsh trauma. But they aren’t friends though. I wish I had a lover, yea I didn’t have a lot of connections going on…

Sun in the 8th house (Gemini)

Definitely I wish interested in occult and some witchcraft…. Plus , I felt happy or sane when I researched on astrology, numerology and other taboos stuffs. I had some refunds from school too.

Venus in 9th house (cancer )

This one I’m a little confused. I didn’t have no romance from school or another country. I did good in my school, even though I feel like it took up most of my time . I was aware about any international news. And I was cooking a lot 😂

Moon, MC and mars in 10th house (Leo)

I’m not going to spend so much on it. I spoke about another post. I really was yearning for creative career, and it just didn’t work out….

[dei-lab-assistant]

Nothing Builds a Friendship Like a Crisis (part 3)

Co-written with multifandoms27 Summary: Kaiba hired you to assist Mokuba as he performed his monthly inspection of the local, Domino City branch of Kaiba Land. Unfortunately, Mokuba was kidnapped before your eyes, and now there's nothing left to do but talk to Kaiba about what happened. Dub canon plus a version of DSOD. Female Reader. Set maybe two years post DSOD. Fun fact: I always write my Reader character with personality and specific description. Each reader character also has a specific place in the Yu-Gi-Oh world, and is basically an OC with set connections and feelings about the various canon characters and other reader characters. This is reader B, who is immune to the siren song of romance, cheap, eccentric, logical, and hands-on. Word count: 2,217 You can read part 1 here. You can read part 2 here. The next minutes were a blur of worrying about Mokuba, security men asking questions, and being hustled through staff-only sections of the park. After the third round of debriefing, in the second nondescript meeting room, you wished with all your heart there was a way to help instead of repeating yourself to various Kaiba Corp employees. But there was nothing you could do. You had helplessly watched as men kidnapped Mokuba, and nothing had changed since then—you were still unable to act, stuck in a state of frustration, failure, and misery. By the time you were brought to Kaiba’s office, you braced yourself for his anger. It was almost welcome. If one more soft spoken individual kindly told you that everything would be alright, the situation was under control, but would you mind answering a few questions… You hated being lied to, and all the comforting fabrications from total strangers were grating on your frayed nerves.

As the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath. You imagined running away. Each step towards Kaiba felt like a bad idea. Since the plush green carpet ate up the sound of your footsteps, the room was silent but for the urgent clacking of the keyboard as the company president steadfastly ignored you. It had been a long time since you had been here—and back then, Mokuba was filling in as the company president. Another step. Behind Kaiba, light flooded in from the windows making up the entire back wall of the office. Step again. Nestled up against the left wall was a table with a detailed model of Kaiba Land, which you remembered Mokuba showing you the night you had been here last. Step. You couldn’t think about Mokuba now. Step. You needed to stay focused, present, involved. You reached the desk. Kaiba had his laptop out beside his desktop monitor, switching back and forth between the two machines. He never looked up from his screens. You hated to interrupt, so for over a minute You stood in silence, watching his fingers fly over the keys. But if he told his men to bring you here, he must have wanted to see you, or at least chew you out. “You wanted to talk to me?” “In a moment.” Kaiba kept his eyes buried in his monitor, as you took a wider stance and clasped your hands behind your back. Eventually, he asked, “How do you feel?” What?! You thought you could count on Kaiba to not ask about your emotions—they weren’t something you wanted to talk about. “Worried. Guilty.” At last, Kaiba looked up in exasperation, “I meant physically. You were drugged, after all.” “I feel… well enough. What do you mean, ‘I was drugged?’” Kaiba reached into a cardboard box perched on the corner of his desk, and pulled out a clear plastic cup containing neon green liquid. He all but slammed the cup down on the polished wood, “Lab results show trace amounts of a rather expensive medical concoction in your drink.”  “But… how? When could someone have slipped drugs into my slushy?” “This was from Bishop?” You nodded. “Yeah, and I didn’t set it down until after Mokuba left. So there’s no way anyone could have—” “I don’t have time for your naivete. Bishop drugged you.” “Wha—Why? He was always so nice to me….” Your mind reeled. No one had ever betrayed you before, but it was the simplest explanation. And you had seen three men leave the tunnel and fly off in the helicopter. “I’m sure he wanted two of the guards to stay behind with you.” Kaiba had resumed typing, although he was moving slower now, giving half his attention to you. “Kaiba, I’m really sorry. I should have stayed with Mokuba—” “And what would you have done? Got yourself shot like the other guard with my brother?” “Shot?!”

Kaiba glanced at you, “Consider yourself lucky Bishop only drugged you.” “Is he dead?” “No, but he’s in the hospital.” Kaiba almost sounded, for a fraction of a second, like he regretted his employee being in such a state. But he kept working, acting like the conversation was a secondary concern. “How did Bishop stop the roller coaster?” Your mind had been mulling over the question of stopping the cars ever since the incident.  “He carried a localized field which blocked power to the brakes and triggered their failsafe, causing them to lock up until Bishop left the area.” “That’s impossible. You can’t dampen electricity like that. An EMP might have knocked the power offline, but then the cars would have been stuck there.” “It’s possible. My stepfather sold designs for such a device to the military.” You crossed your arms, “Fine, but no one would have access to those designs, much less the device itself.” “Despite my efforts, there’s still old Kaiba Corp tech scattered across the globe, and not exclusively in the US military.” “Seriously?” You supposed even Kaiba couldn’t always buy his way out of other men’s contracts. “But in this case,” Kaiba switched to his laptop, “an unauthorized individual accessed those files internally. Probably Bishop.” “He’s a hacker?” “Or his boss is, and Bishop followed his instructions in order to steal the plans, as well as several other, more recent files related to Solid Vision.” “I would have thought that was impossible too.” “Almost impossible. The bypass was impressive. I’ve been rebuilding the system’s security protocols from scratch this week, but the damage was already done.” Silence fell again, and you wondered if the conversation was over. You were tired. Shoving your hands into your pockets, you asked, “Am I still going to need to talk to the police after this?”  “Why would you talk to the police?” Kaiba stopped typing and stared at you with genuine curiosity. “Because I watched your little brother get kidnapped!” “I know, but what do the police have to do with it?” “Well, yeah, okay, it’s probably the FBI’s job, and not the local police, but you know what I mean.” You were rarely sarcastic, but there was no reason for Kaiba to be so pedantic. To your surprise, Kaiba stopped typing, leaned forward on his elbows, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I thought Mokuba explained our situation to you.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You were more confused than angry. Kaiba sighed. “I’m sure you’ve heard that the super rich can do whatever they want?” “Yeah, but I’ve never believed it.” “It would be more accurate to say that we can do whatever we want, to those in our league.” You stared blankly.

“If a corporation kidnapped a random child, the government would intervene on behalf of the kid, but they won’t interfere with something like this. I’m expected to use my own resources to rescue Mokuba, or take revenge on his kidnappers—whatever I want, so long as the perpetrator is playing the same game. And of course, there’s always the possibility for further retaliation from the other side.” You grasped desperately for words. “This is…” Kaiba had ripped aside the curtain, revealing a view of the world you were never supposed to see. “Where does this leave someone like me?” “Employees of Kaiba Corp are under my protection. Any of my rivals who bothered or harmed my people would know to expect retribution. And of course, we’re careful not to harm unrelated… civilians.” Kaiba paused, as though questioning his choice of words, then continued. “If someone like Pegasus grievously hurt one of your sisters, then the government might get involved, and the whole thing could drag out in a multi-year legal battle. No one wants that.” “And where do I fit into this?” It felt like you had tumbled into a dangerous world running parallel to your own. “You?” Kaiba leaned back in his chair, “Right now, you’re an edge case. Although your decisions today will plant you squarely in, or out, of the game.”   You wondered what decisions Kaiba was talking about, but didn’t feel ready to ask about them. “So, why would Bishop do something like this? Shouldn’t he be on your team?” “Until last year, Bishop worked for Knightly Rook. When he applied here, he said he didn’t respect his boss, and wanted to work for someone with real power. But now, I know he never left his previous employer.” Kaiba smirked, “The man will regret crossing me.” “Knightly Rook kidnapped Mokuba? Why on earth would they do that?” “The company has been pestering me to meet with their president for months now. Apparently, they won’t accept that I refuse to collaborate with talentless hacks.” “And their president thought kidnapping Mokuba would enable him to win you over? The man is a moron.” “He thinks he can use this to prove he’s better than me.” Kaiba aggressively struck a few keys on his keyboard and swung around his desktop monitor to show a paused video. A graying redhead with a roguish grin and playful green eyes stared out of the screen—the president of Knightly Rook, Reginald O’Malley. Wearing a silky black shirt and perfectly tailored matching suit, the man looked more professional than Kaiba; and his mahogany tie and cane added an extra smidge of respectability. As the video resumed, the camera slowly zoomed in on his face. “I tried to play nice, Mr. Kaiba, I really did. We could have built something grand together.” From behind his desk, Kaiba snorted at the assertion.

“Alas, I could handle your refusals,” the video continued, “but your spurious claims that my company is nothing but pathetic puffery were an affront to my pride, sir.” Twirling his cane with practiced ease, the man continued. “And as you can see, I’m ready to challenge you, to show the world it is Seto Kaiba who should be pitied, as I rip from your inhospitable grip everything you hold dear.” You had heard O‘Malley many times, but never like this—with menace lurking behind each cheerfully delivered word. Although as his threat grew more obvious, some of the cheeriness fell away. “But of course, I propose a fair match, Mr. Kaiba, me and my Queen, against you and yours.” O’Malley switched to a mocking tone, “And worry not, I am aware you are a pathetic man, who has never known the sweet joys of a female companion, but I speak metaphorically.”  You and Kaiba shared an annoyed look at the assertion of singleness being equal to patheticness.  The video continued, “I am the black king, you are the white king, and each of us shall bring our strongest piece with us into symbolic battle via your favorite game. The stakes are high, and poor, young Mokuba awaits his dear older brother.” O’Malley chuckled, “The black king has made the first move, what will you do next, Mr. Kaiba?” Kaiba paused the video and rotated his screen back to its usual position as you asked, “I thought white always made the first move in Chess?” “Correct. But apparently he overlooked that detail when composing his speech.” Kaiba crossed his arms. “Will you be my tag-duel partner against this imbecile?” You were caught off guard by Kaiba’s question, delivered without preamble, “Shouldn’t you ask Yugi to be your partner for this duel?” An image of Mokuba suffering because you lost surfaced in your imagination, only to be ruthlessly shoved away; you needed to stay focused on the conversation. Kaiba stared at the top of his desk, “Yugi’s in New York, and we’re on the clock.” The last time you had agreed to help Kaiba, the two of you had ended up scrubbing floors in Pegasus’s castle, which felt like nothing compared to what was at stake today—Mokuba’s safety. “Why choose me?” You trusted Kaiba to give you an honest answer. “I’m not the strongest duelist around.” “You care about Mokuba almost as much as I do.” Kaiba’s mask of impassivity slipped, an almost childish desperation in his eyes. “And I trust you.” Having tasted betrayal for the first time today, you understood the value of his declaration. Your mind splintered into factions, wanting to accept his offer, arguing other candidates would be a better choice than you, screaming to take action, whispering that joining Kaiba on this venture could cost you a great deal—your privacy and anonymity, your safety, your right to be excluded from these power games. But your friend was asking for help, and your almost-a-little-brother needed you to rescue him. The seconds of confusion ended. You planted your hands on the edge of the desk and leaned towards Kaiba. “I’m in. But not as an employee, or a subordinate. As friends. Equals.” Kaiba stared into your eyes, as though seeking your resolve. “Very well.” “Also, you know that outfit you had made for me last year that matched yours? I wore it to Pegasus’s party to help you try and win a bet?” “Of course.” “Do you still have that? ‘Cause if we’re gonna play this guy’s stupid game, I want to lean into the aesthetic while we trounce him.” A smile tugged at the edges of Kaiba’s mouth. “I’ll see what I can do. Here.” Reaching into the cardboard box again, he handed you the deck box you had left in a locker back at Kaiba Land. “You’ll need this.” Part 4

[sholiofic]

Whumptober Day 26: Breakfast Table

Absolutely not a single bit of whump in this one. Although it's a nightmare from Algy's point of view ....

No. 26: NIGHTMARES Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I’m haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

Implied Biggles/EvS. Also posted on DW.

***

"Can't say I care for bally old Copper Horizon's chances at the Royal Ascot -- not a single farthing's worth," Bertie remarked sadly as he pored over the racing scores in the paper, amidst the results of a demolished breakfast in the Mount Street flat.

"So don't bet on him then," Algy said heartlessly. He'd spent most of his life aggressively uninterested in horse racing, mainly because of growing up around people who expected him to have opinions about it, and now Bertie had lured him into actually knowing the names of various racehorses; it was an intolerable thing to have to face before he'd finished his first cup of tea. "Pass that?" he added, holding out a hand into which Ginger plopped the butter dish.

"Isn't the chief up yet?" Ginger asked through a mouthful of toast. "He's always on us if we sleep in, and now it's almost gone eight and he hasn't put in an appearance. I don't suppose he's sick?"

"He's been looking a little peaky lately, don't you think?" Bertie asked, lowering the paper. "Or distracted, at least."

"Looked fine to me," Algy said sharply, plucking a piece of toast off the toast-rack.

Just then Biggles breezed into the breakfast nook, looking neither peaky nor distracted, merely tousled and cheerful in his dressing gown. "Morning, chaps," he announced, reaching over to snatch an already buttered piece of toast off Bertie's plate. "I'm headed out for breakfast, but if there's coffee, I wouldn't mind some."

"He's in the bathroom, isn't he," Algy said flatly, taking in Biggles's old brown dressing gown, the one he knew Biggles had shoved to the back of the wardrobe after it had worn thin and frayed. Algy could guess all too well where Biggles's nicer dressing gown had wandered off to, or more accurately, on whom it had wandered.

"No idea who -- that is, what you're talking about," Biggles said, turning slightly pink. Clearing his throat, he went on briskly, "The reports for the Amsterdam jewelry heist need to be filed today. Algy, you're on that. Bertie, see if you can get a grip on those mechanical failures at Woodley, you can run down in the Bentley. Ginger, you can go with Bertie, it'll go faster with two."

"Where will you be?" Ginger asked.

"At breakfast, as I said. I'll catch you up at the office. Oh, I'll take that too." He appropriated the toast off Algy's plate and hustled off with it, untouched. Algy heard low voices in the hall a moment later.

"Sick? We should be so lucky," Algy said in a voice of gloom, and grimly buttered another slice of toast.

[xalandrix]

First Line Patterns

for @starquestingfordrarry

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

*stares in noob* you get 5 fics because i only have 5

Like a Broomstick for Giants | E | 9k

Ron makes a face at their potion. "What's it supposed to look like again?"

An Unexpected Development | E | 3k

Harry finds himself wandering the seventh floor hallway yet again, struggling to name the thing he's searching for.

Reasonable Precautions for the Investigation of Suspicious Artefacts | E | 7k

There's only five minutes left until breakfast is over when Harry hustles into the Great Hall and power-walks up to the Head Table.

Harry Potter's Bedroom Tips for Snake Animagi | E | 3k

“What have you done to your face?” Draco asks in lieu of a greeting, closing the door to their office in the DMLE.

I Know the Sound of Your Heart | E | 3k

Evening finds Draco at Harry's place again, stretched out on his side on the squashy couch with his head pillowed comfortably in his boyfriend's lap.

if there's a pattern i don't see it, also most of these are absolute ass tbqh! i hate starting fics! i usually write 95% of the fic before the first line and when i finally make myself do it i'm like "ehhhh good enough"

tagging @jtimu because she had to teach me how to tag people and i'm too chicken to tag anyone else so please pretend i tagged you if you want <3

[cheesus-doodles]

The Flag We Serve Under: Chapter 3

Yandere Azur Lane

Masterlist

‎‎

<< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

took me longer than expected to get this finished, but glad its done regardless! look forward to something else being posted soon as well (secret heheh)

The sudden wave of silence that washed over your pounding ears as you closed the door behind you was a relief in itself; you didn’t think there had been a time since you graduated from Officer school where you have had to meet so many new faces. Even the few steps you staggered to the comfort of your well-worn office chair was hard fought; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration if you stated that it took every ounce of energy you had left. Slumping down into what was once a plush, comfortable seat, you were completely drained and utterly exhausted, commander cap laying abandoned atop a scattering of reports and maps across the large wooden desk. How many new girls did you meet today? Was this just a taste of what was destined to be your life going forward? An endless crushing cycle of strategic meetings and paperwork, trapped by your sense of duty to those under your command? A question neither you nor the quiet world had neither answers to, yet one you couldn’t simply let go just yet.

Letting out a long sigh, you reluctantly pulled yourself up, bringing your tired attention back to the mess in front of you - where was it again you had left off before you had been summoned to Naval HQ? The words only seemed to blur together in defiance, tap dancing across the paper when you tried to will yourself to focus. Seconds ticked by feeling more like hours, and your eyelids only felt more and more weighed down by the neverending senseless papers. You let out a groan, throwing up your arms and the report along with them, though you were quick to grab them before the loose leaves of papers could fall out of order; the last thing you wanted was to have to sort through what you had already packed previously. Not while you still had so many other papers to go through and pack. Curse your unordered past self.

At least you could be grateful that your office was mercifully quiet, devoid of any other soul save for your own (a stretch, given you felt pretty dead at the moment), and that the rest of your schedule laid empty and unoccupied; the heavy wooden doors and its creaky hinges that you had to fight everyday to open sealing off the hustle and bustle from the busy outside. You remembered a time when you hated every moment you spent in this damned place, the light flooding in through giant windows you had your back to only reminding you of the open ocean that you lost the chance to experience; never would you have ever expected this place, usually associated with a long, hectic day, to suddenly become an elusive paradise on your former peaceful base. 

It had already been a long day, surely (with a nice helpful side of crossed fingers), surely the world wasn’t going to not end if you left work a little early for the day as a well-earned break. Finally taking notice of the now cold, abandoned cup of what you were sure was coffee sitting at the corner of your desk, you grimaced as you chugged it down in one go; it was still the ghost of what was left of your drink for one, and for two, you didn’t want Alabama to see all her hard work learning how to operate the coffee machine go down the drain. She would never forgive you. 

The shuffling and crinkling of papers was all that filled the last few minutes of your work day as you tried your hand at some last minute organization for your future self, though a knock at your door quickly distracted you from stuffing files and maps alike into your briefcase for some nighttime light reading (or so you hoped at least). “Come in,” you called out, though it was clear whoever it was that had just burst into your office hadn’t even waited for your response. 

Two white ponytails tossed backwards in her draft as Alabama wandered into the room holding several files, her half-lidded eyes and neutral expression giving little clue as to her mood beneath, though you did notice those red eyes scanning your table. “You’re leaving already?”

“Ah, Alabama. For the day, yes,” you replied, before continuing to struggle with sliding the papers into your bag in tact. Why wouldn’t these fit? “Did you need anything before I go?”

But it wasn’t the answer that the tanned battleship girl was looking for. “I meant on that…trip.”

Your gaze snapped up, sharpening as it met Alabama’s. “Who told you about that?” 

But the other wasn’t the slightest phrased from your pointed question. “So it’s true. You are going somewhere.”

“Alabama, you might be my secretary but that’s classified information. Who did you hear that from?”

She once more ignored your question. “So where are we going?”

You threw your hands up in exasperation for the second time - you really weren’t going to get any answers around here that easily, huh? “I,” you emphasized. “Am going on a classified mission. Which you will not be able to join me on. You will be staying here with everyone else.”

“When?”

“We’re setting sail tomorrow, late morning.” Looking over your desk one more time to make sure that there would be no need for a return trip, you finally lifted yourself up from your office chair, the worn chair rolling back with a groaning protest to make space. The other simply nodded along as she turned to face the door, waiting to leave with you as she always did.

And then something clicked behind Alabama’s crimson eyes, your words only just registering - you swore that the tanned girl would have broken her spine with how fast she whirled around if she was just a human like you. “Wait, what do you mean I’m not going?”

You picked up your briefcase, and in one smooth move, swung it over one shoulder while lifting your commander cap off the table and back onto your head with your free hand. “It’s what I said. You can’t come on this one.” 

“So who’s going?”

“That’s classified.”

“Where are you going?”

“That’s classified.”

A few paces were all you could take till you were face to face with Alabama, the other refusing to budge. “Then you aren’t going,” she stated, as if it was enough to resolve the matter. The tension in the air was palpable, what was essentially divulging into a standoff between you and her; not that you could blame the battleship girl. After all, it would be the first time since you became a full-fledged commander, the first time since she joined your ranks, that you would have ever traveled anywhere without her. 

You sighed, shaking your head as you side-stepped her, waving at her to walk with you. “If only it was so simple, Alabama,” you said willfully, the evening rays having just started to dance through the closed windows that framed the deserted corridors outside of your office. The bustling sounds of life from the sudden influx of new girls under your command still echoed down these hallways, their chattering merging and muffling into the new normal background sound of the once quiet forward base out in the middle of the ocean you called home. “Orders from the top, unfortunately.”

Alabama seemed to instantly know what you were referring to, looking mighty unimpressed. “That call?”

You nodded. Stepping out to the sight of a pink sky, you squinted in the direction of the setting sun, taking in the beautiful glittering ocean that stretched infinitely into the distant horizon against the glare. You shouldn’t, but you wanted to. “It’s a lot later than I had thought. Would you like to get some dinner, Alabama?”

“Dinner sounds good,” she instantly agreed - it was at least clear to her that you were extending an opportunity for her to probe this matter a bit more deeply. You didn’t like to leave your closest friend out to dry. “Now?”

“How about thirty minutes’ time?” You patted your briefcase. “I'd like to go and drop these off first.”

‎

‎

“Enterprise?!” Akagi gnashed her teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously, knuckles turning white how tight her fist was. “How dare they?!” Of all the possible minders those fuckwits at Naval HQ could send with you-

“That’s enough, Akagi.” Nagato ordered, though the solemn expression on her face at the news was as clear as day, with Yamashiro all but quaking where she stood, attempting to hide behind the figure of her older sister Fusou. There was no doubt the higher-ups at Azur Lane knew of - and were absolutely taking advantage of - the rocky history between the Grey Ghost and the Sakura Empire; it seemed like those clunkerheads had finally awoken to the value you brought as a full-fledged commander and had the incentive to keep you safe. 

Kaga seemed to be simply caught in the middle, glancing back and forth between her sister and the Sakura Empires’ Combined Fleet Flagship and Emperor with much uncertainty. Despite the moon having already hung amidst the starless skies for several hours now, the dim, flickering ceremonial fires that warmed the court were still lit, though the usual bamboo partitioning curtain that obstructed the view of Nagato having been raised to fully reveal the small figure of the girl with the fox ears, dwarfed by the riggings of her battleship around her; a highly uncommon sight on top of the late night meeting, she determined. 

She wasn’t certain what was going on at the moment, what with this…obsession (if she had to term it) they had with you, an unknown “Commander” she had never met. Was there something so special about you which would warrant such fanfare? But no doubt it wasn’t the right time to investigate this matter, the tension already weighing heavy in the air, almost too heavy to breathe. The white-haired dared not even shift should the wood beneath creak.

The single minute that passed before Nagato spoke again was agonizing. “Is there nothing we can do?” Her child-like voice echoed throughout the otherworldly silent room.“Yamashiro, Fusou, did they say anything else?”

The two black-haired mikos snapped back to attention, glancing at each other before Fusou responded. “I think they mentioned that the Commander was already underway with her escort, Nagato-sama.”

“Did our contact say anything about a limit of stay for the Commander?”

“No, I do not recall such a message being passed along.”

Akagi and Nagato shared a look, a simple meeting of eyes that communicated so much. It seemed that they had a plan. “Everyone except Akagi is dismissed. Thank you for your time.” Nagato ordered, a final dismissal that warranted no further questions. And so the younger of the two from the First Carrier Division was forced to leave her older sister behind, following Fusou and Yamashiro as they excused themselves with a deep both, the silhouettes of both shipgirls left in quiet discussions disappearing behind the rising stairs as Kaga returned to their shared abode alone.

‎

‎

Letting out a yawn, you stretched out across your deck chair, lazily adjusting your sunglasses before they could slip off your face. It wasn’t something you should be doing per se, openly relaxing in front of those under your command, and you were sure to receive hell if upper management caught wind of it, but you were really too winded to care too much. Safe to say, last night’s talk with Alabama hadn’t gone as well as you had hoped, though fortunately neither had it turned into the worst case scenario that you had replayed over and over in your mind. You did have to break some of the confidentiality agreements to tell Alabama who you were sailing with and to let her accompany you part-way, but it was the least you could do to ease her anxiety.

The late morning sun was warm through your uniform, the whip of the ocean breeze as the aircraft carrier slightly glided through the water cool enough to stop any perspiration from forming. It was amazing to sail the great blue again; no matter how many times you made the journey, the vast ocean would never cease to amaze and humble you. Two distinct sets of heels clicking across the wooden deck caught your ear, and you looked up to meet two sets of eyes glancing down at you.

“Commander.” “Commander.” 

You had of course heard of the legendary Big E from your colleagues back at Naval HQ despite having never had the opportunity to work alongside her, and no one - not even Alabama - would have ever gotten you to admit to the internal fangirling you had allowed yourself to indulge in in the privacy of your own room the night you found out you would be sailing with the famed aircraft carrier. After all, she was almost a mythical figure among the commanders, a capable, reliable and battle-hardened shipgirl whomst tales you had relegated to you time and time again by the veteran commanders. But your white-haired battleship friend was already narrowing those crimson eyes at you in suspicion, and so you swallowed your excitement. 

Reluctantly pulling yourself up from your exceedingly comfortable position, you acknowledged the two arrivals. “Enterprise, Alabama,” you returned their greeting with a firm nod. Lifting your arm to take a glance at your watch, you stood up, adjusting your cap. “It’s about time?”

It was about time to part ways with Alabama - she couldn’t accompany the two of you any further without risking exposing the destination of your mission, and that was a part of the confidentiality that you couldn’t risk exposing. The white-haired battleship girl already had her rigging on, one tanned hand firmly wrapped around that signature red scythe. But it was the look of uncertainty behind those tired eyes that had you sighing. You couldn’t just leave your bestfriend hanging. “Enterprise, if you could give us a minute?”

“Of course.”

A moment of silence as the Eagle Union carrier strolled off purposefully in the opposite direction before you turned to face Alabama once more. “Alabama-”

“You’ll stay safe?” She interrupted, pulling you into a tight hug that underlaid the worry absent from her expression. “And come home quickly?”

You broke into a smile, reassuringly patting her arm. With how tight this hug was and how much your face was being pushed into her chest, you were sure that Alabama was all but trying to merge you into her. “I promise. I’ll be back before you realize it, take care of the girls for me, alright?”

The reluctance as the battleship released you from her grip was palpable, but Alabama finally moved to leave. “See you later,” she mouthed, before leaping off the deck of Enterprise. You waved at her as her much smaller figure skated across the water till she disappeared from sight, before collapsing back into your deck chair. The things you would do just to keep your girls happy - you could only hope your one-up never found out. 

‎

The large Torii gate that seemed to stand atop the shimmering water greeted you as the manifested aircraft carrier sailed into the territorial waters for the Sakura Empire, the bow of the enormous ship cutting through the waves silently. Looking down from the command center nestled near the top of the superstructure, you bit back the sigh you felt emerging from your throat, with Enterprise standing just to the right of your shoulder, violet eyes scanning the world outside through the large glass panes. You had been hustled inside the moment the two of you had crossed the line between No-Man’s Sea and the Sakura Empire waters, and you had no doubt that Enterprise took her job as your bodyguard very seriously - who knew what she had been briefed on by Naval HQ? 

But you were sure that no harm would come to you.

From a distance, you spotted two figures approaching - shipgirls, one you identified as Kawakaze, and the other who you didn’t recognize, skating across the water towards the slowing carrier with a small boat in tow, signaling with a handheld light for permission to approach. Clearly they weren’t looking for a fight, you reasoned, glancing back at Enterprise. “Let them aboard,” you ordered, standing from your commander’s seat and grabbing your coat. “I’ll head down to meet them.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Commander,” Kawakaze greeted, bowing slightly, waving her hand towards the girl next to her with a set of horns protruding from beneath her black fringe, dressed in what seemed like a modified set of school uniform. “This is Noshiro, an Agano-class light cruiser. We’re here to accompany you to the main island.” 

You noted amusedly that they were very studious in ignoring Enterprise’s presence, but seeing that the other hardly seemed bothered by the slightest, and was instead studying the two Sakura girls, you decided not to bring it up. “Thank you for the warm welcome. I didn’t expect Lady Nagato to send her handmaiden just for little old me.” 

Kawakaze broke into a rare smile as she beckoned for you to follow, helping you gently into the small boat that the two towed, but said nothing more. A distance away, you watched with awe as the enormous aircraft carried de-manifested, Enterprise landing on the water surface with her rigging now attached to her, bow in hand. The waters nearer the main island were too shallow to dock, but you weren’t complaining. No, you were happy to watch the ocean speed by as the island neared, the pink of the evening sky a twin match for the lightly swaying cherry blossom trees that grew larger and larger as your group approached.

The little girl with the enormous riggings, decorated with red and white-banded shimenawa, stood out amidst the golden beach.

“Commander!” Nagato cleared her throat, straightening up as best she could as you were helped out from the boat and instead doing a little curtsy, her equipment following the graceful movement with nay a creak. “I mean- Commander. Welcome to the Sakura Empire.” 

“This is a much bigger reception that I thought I would receive.” You chuckled, instead spreading your arms in an undeniable invitation. And in an instant, all pretense of formality evaporated, Nagato flying forward to accept your offered hug, careful to avoid smacking her rigging into you - goodness knows how fragile you were next to shipgirls like them. “I don’t think I ever was your commander, Lady Nagato. But it is good to see you again.”

Enterprise looked curious, you noted, but you didn’t explain any further, nor did any of the Sakura Empire girls elaborate. None of your fleet knew of your past before you became a Commander, and despite you thinking that it wasn’t a big deal, telling Enterprise before any of your other girls might stir a storm that you rather not have to deal with. 

“Please, just Nagato.” The black-haired girl mumbled into your ear, a light flush brushing across her cheeks for a fraction of a second before she cleared her throat and pulled away, the redness of her face already gone. Lightly tugging at your hand for you to follow her, no one mentioned anything that she never did let go. “Follow me. I’ll show you to your quarters.”

“I assume we will be sharing the same accommodation,” Enterprise spoke up for the first time since her arrival, though her even and surprisingly soft voice carried the authority and weight of a ship of her might.

Nagato simply nodded. “Of course.”

They had to get you away from your chaperone and somewhere private, but that was a plan for a later time. For now, it was to get you settled in, nice and comfortable, and everything else would fall into place.

‎

‎

Back at the forward base, Alabama let off another volley of shots into the open ocean, letting out a huff of frustration. How could you, she fumed, the whirl of her guns as they reloaded barely audible over the sound of crashing waves. More so, how dare you?! How dare you leave her behind to run off with Enterprise, of all people to god knows where?

So what if you had a “classified mission” from Naval HQ? Those clowns barely knew what they were doing from their high throne, you should have just turned them down and ignored it. Was it that you liked Enterprise, what with her legendary status? She saw the admiration in your eyes, and it made her blood boil. Was it that she had white hair too? Was it because Enterprise was an aircraft carrier and Alabama was just a battleship?

She was the one who had served you loyally all these years, standing by your side through thick and thin, protecting you from the fuckheads at Naval HQ. She was the first ship in your fleet, your secretary ship, your bodyguard. She should be your only.

Gritting her teeth, the firing of her large guns temporarily overpowered the niggling voices in the back of her mind, the smell of gunpowder clearing her head. Alabama took a deep breath. No, she wouldn’t be letting you go so easily.

‎

From a short distance away, South Dakota simply observed. Like the rest of the Eagle Union ships, she had recently been transferred under your command, where the youngest of her sisters had been part of your fleet for a substantial amount of time. But this was most unlike Alabama - the battleship had been stewing for the past day, as difficult as it was to believe, her bad mood written across those half-lidded eyes. Alabama had always been the easygoing, lazy sister in the South Dakota-class, and to see her this worked up; it was worrying.

SIghing, South Dakota shook her head, turning around and heading back to base, leaving Alabama out alone on the waves. There was no doubt your secretary ship was plotting something, seeing how protective she was of you - but as to what, she would have to wait to find out.

‎

tags: @lexthetiredstudent, @bbbexee, @noncon-photobomb

[bisluthq]

As a fan of her music who also happens to be a woman who makes questionable-bad choices ™️ (though of a different nature), and has blown up aspects of my life in a much smaller scale (because it’s easy for me to have work, friends, family all know a different version of me cause I’m not a global superstar)…. I very much appreciate Taylor releasing TTPD and letting it all out and sharing such personal details.

As a fan of the woman and only wanting good things for her, I can’t help but feel releasing a large portion of TTPD was equally cathartic as it was part of the self harming.

Like it’s cathartic to write and get it all out. And it’s cathartic for her to sing those songs and have them sung back to her because it makes her feel less alone (her words) and I wonder if she feels she has a “duty” to release some of this stuff because she knows it’ll hopefully resonate with someone…. But she also painted a very unflattering picture of herself - which I admire cause it’s real and… good for her. But for someone who has been so image conscious for nearly 20 years, releasing the songs that paint her in a bad light and make her look psychotic - so much that she in part ANTICIPATED the reaction because she called it a manic phase and self harm… like was releasing it part of throwing her life to the wolves or ocean rocks? Is she wanting to be understood by people who don’t need to, or don’t deserve to understand her and the whole tatty thing? From an image pov, the consensus was she was so heartbroken and fucked in the head that she rebounded with a “loser” because she was so broken. Did she release all those songs to defend his honour or explain herself? Or just sharing dope songs?

One of the best things my therapist told me was that when I feel misunderstood (which is a lot lol) it’s actually ok and not a bad thing that the person at the post office thinks I shop too much online (but they don’t know that I’m buying things for a side hustle), or that a colleague thought I had no personality for having a capsule wardrobe (I did it to reduce decision fatigue and be economical. I had a uniform and never had to iron, sort my washing or think what to wear). Or a friend thought I was rich cause I went to a string of concerts in a row (she had gone on an overseas vacation, I did not go on a weekend away and just spent my money on concerts and festivals which just all happened to be in the summer). Weird examples, but there wasn’t any problem in those people perceiving me the way they did and it didn’t affect me in a meaningful way that needed correction. If my colleague thought I didn’t shower and said I stank and told HR, or thought I was coming to work high - that is worth saying ‘umm actually…’ or if someone thought I was cheating on my partner or doing something bad where it affected those relationships, then it’s important to correct the narrative. This has been a huge issue for me and I’ve worked with my therapist when she realised I was starting a lot of my downfalls by over sharing lmao because I just wanted to be understood and hate hate hate being misunderstood!!!! But “not everyone needs or deserves to understand you” honestly changed my life.

I’ve typed too much but idk ijbol but yeah like I’m not saying Taylor should have kept TTPD in a vault, and there are some songs that wouldn’t have added to the shitstorm in Texas. But she created a bigger monster when she released it and idk I just wonder if for her, if that was healthy… or if she really wanted the songs in the wild if she would have been better off releasing a ‘eras from the vault’ but not saying when the songs were written. Like half could be John mayer smack cams and Smallest Man would’ve been better received if it was perceived to be him outside the fandom imo lmao.

I love so much of what you’ve said and I’m gonna reread it later because it just hits tbh. I love it. There are so many true things here.

Taylor releasing TTPD should put an end to “she only does this for clout” because yes absolutely she didn’t have to tell us all this.

Taylor should go to therapy lol like ofc she should. most of us should and she doesn’t have money barriers to it so there’s no reason she doesn’t go regularly (I do think she’s been but didn’t like it and you’re not supposed to every time)

Taylor as of TTPD does not seem well lmao like that shit’s not okay and it’s relatable and stuff and she’s very productive but she… does not seem well… and that’s fine lol I’m not judging but come the fuck on lol. People acting like she’s super okay and better than she’s ever been are a bit weird. She seems unwell but that’s fine like we all do dumb shit sometimes ykwim?

[my-own-walker]

Under My Thumb - Chapter 1

summary: it all has to start somewhere. in this story, a radio station.

warnings: fully ignoring his dating history. aka they don't exist in MY fictional universe. 😤 oh yeah, i'm going there. besides shaky historical accuracy, no warnings...so far...

+++

Year: 2011

You and whoever you'll end up with share a place under the same sun. They're never that far away.

But I was beginning to come to the conclusion that I was going to marry my job. It just wasn't in the cards to try and find The One. And that was fine by me.

I was working in the sales department of a rock radio station in LA at the time. I was always busy putting out some sort of metaphorical fire in the back offices. Even at home, I was responding to emails or taking calls. Dealing with brand politics was soul-sucking, but I liked the music they played. So all in all it was fine. I was only 21, after all.

The station had a pretty popular morning talk show. Something 9 to 5ers could put on while sitting in standstill traffic on the 405 to make their lives feel less meaningless. I enjoyed listening to it when I first moved to LA, so when I saw the job posting, I said 'fuck it.'

The morning show always had cool guests on. I enjoyed peering over into the studio space to see which up-and-comer they had on that day.

I'm not exaggerating when I say they had everyone on the show. Comedians, actors, bands, some busker off the street. Whatever it took to fill air time, I guess.

I wasn't unhappy, just busy. Well, come to think of it, I actually think I was in denial about how unhappy I truly was.

It's a hard city to try to make friends in. As busy as I was, I still had too much free time on my hands. I'd go home to my empty apartment and watch Criminal Minds on DVD until my eyes bled.

My parents begged me to come home. I was their one and only and I flew the nest. I was starting to not hate the idea of going home, though. I was so fucking lonely.

+

It was November.

It was the daily routine of dealing with unhappy sponsors and trying not to scream when I decided to walk over to the studio space. I needed any distraction to keep myself from killing the next person who called me to curse me out about how they hated the ad we produced for them.

I had been listening to the station from my desk and heard the hosts talking up their next guest. Some guy who was in a horror show, or something.

I have a mind for the disgusting, twisted, and insane. Watching horror movies is my coping mechanism. I can only truly relax when I was watching something that would make most people's skin crawl.

I was itching for some new content, though, and this American Horror Story show sounded just twisted enough for me. I figured, why not get a look at this guy?

The cold air of the studio's lounge hit me like a ton of bricks as I headed down the corridor. They kept it cold intentionally, that way the equipment wouldn't overheat. I personally couldn't stand it, though. the interns would bring blankets to wrap themselves in as they did their work. Not a bad idea by any means, but if I tried that I was sure I'd fall asleep or something. Instead, I simply dressed in layers. Even in the dead of summer, I'd wear sweaters to work.

All of that aside, I always loved the hustle and bustle of the area. There were producers and interns buzzing about, grabbing guests, creating scripts, and running to the printers. It was much more fun to regard than the surroundings at my desk. Bored sales reps and their coffee mugs. Spreadsheets and computer screens.

This was more my speed.

I would get away with taking up space in the area by claiming I was there to 'hear the ads,' in order to 'check the quality.' In reality, I couldn't give two shits.

I kept my head down as I walked to find a seat in an attempt to not get noticed for wasting space in the small area.

That was until I collided with someone's chest.

'Fuck. Shit. Fuck I- I'm sorry,'

'Damn, I'm so sorry. Fuck.'

Mine and the stranger's voices overlapped. Both of us feverishly apologizing

I looked up into a pair of the deepest brown eyes I'd ever seen.

'Shit sorry,' I stammered, 'I should pay more attention to where I'm walking in here.' My cheeks flushed red.

'No it's my bad, I wasn't paying attention either,' he laughed.

'I'm just gonna g- go over there or something,' I breathed, casting my eyes downward and pointing my thumb in the direction of...well, nothing. Just anywhere to get out of that situation.

Nice job, Y/N, I thought. Making yourself look like a fool in front of one of the most attractive people you've ever seen.

He was really good-looking. His mess of curly hair cascaded down and framed his face angelically as he looked at me. His smile made his eyes wrinkle in the corners, making clear to me that he must have smiled a lot. He was just tall enough that he had to look down to make eye contact with me. My stomach flipped inside out as I looked into his eyes. I only regarded him for a second, but it felt like eons. Time almost slowed to a stop.

Snapping out of it, I put proverbial blinders on and found myself the nearest couch to sit on and hang my head in shame.

The last time I felt that strongly about a person upon first sight was when I saw a girl with bright orange hair in a Starbucks when I first moved to LA. She had the coolest eye makeup on and her lips made me feel funny inside. I had never seen a person that cool before in my life. I felt like it was love at first sight. But then I never saw her again.

This, however, was way different. It felt like angels came down from heaven and sang to me when he looked into my eyes.

My world seemed to cave in even further when I saw him turn and be led into the morning show studio. He was the guest, and I just embarrassed myself, and the studio.

The interview went well. He talked a lot about how freaky the show is. I was actually kind of excited to watch it. He also spoke about his favorite music, something the show asked about a lot. It made my insides feel funny. He had the same taste in music as me.

He walked out and looked around until he met my eyes. Setting his sights on me, he made his way over to the couch I resigned myself to.

'Hey, sorry about earlier again,' Evan said. 'I'm a big old clutz.' He chuckled.

'No, I- I'm,' I started. I was promptly interrupted by his hand in my face, handing me a piece of paper.

'Call me sometime,' he whispered. And with that, he was gone.

+++

Teehee loads of exposition in this one but more to come. Drop suggestions in my inbox for where you'd like this fic to go! Let's get into it...

[rustbeltjessie]

Today: finally got my oldest kiddo an ADHD diagnosis and a prescription for ADHD meds. (We’ve suspected he’s ADHD as well as autistic for a while now, but waiting lists and bureaucratic red tape are a thing, so it took a while to actually make this happen.) Later, I went to the post office to check my PO Box and buy a sheet of stamps, and the postal worker at the counter was thee hottest futch, like so hot I was flustered just talking to them. And then after that I went to the drugstore to pick up my kiddo’s meds, and I browsed through the makeup section cuz I really need some new eyeliner, but I couldn’t afford any because eyeliner costs like $10-15+ now?! I had a split second where I considered just pocketing some but being that I am no longer a teen or 20-something, and that I have kids of my own, I’m no longer willing to risk getting arrested for stealing fucking eyeliner.

In general, I’ve been really on top of shit lately. Had some literary contests and magazines I wanted to submit to that required submission fees, so I found an extra little side hustle to make money for those, and then sent them in. I’m very close to being done with the new issue of my zine. I’ve got D. on meds and have also got the process going for him to get other therapies and community help. I’ve signed the other kid up for some art and science classes he’s interested in. I’m considering going back to school for something quite different than I ever studied before, and I sent away for information from a couple nearby universities. And I made a dentist appointment for myself, even though I have hella dental anxiety. (Truly, going to the dentist is one of my least favorite things in the world. I would rather spend an entire day at the DMV than go to the dentist. I would rather fly than go to the dentist, and I hate flying.)

Lol, but I’ve long suspected I’m ADHD but never pursued a diagnosis, and there are some common ADHD things that I don’t relate to, so when I hear those I’m like oh, no, maybe I’m not. But like half the stuff the doc was talking about today I was like: “Oh. Me, me, me again, also me.” So…

And I’m really happy I’ve found a teeny side hustle to pay for submission fees. Now I just gotta find a way to make that sweet, sweet eyeliner money…