#plastic bread clip

[samimarkart]

i updated my inprnt with recent paintings and quilts i’ve made! lots and lots of niche collections including plankton, star sand, crinoid fossils and bread clips :) everyone on tumblr has been so generous in their support of my art - I am waiting to hear back about an artists residency opportunity I’ve applied for taking place this winter as well as some additional shows, and your support from my loose studio sale has allowed me to deal with application fees so thank you!!

[luveline]

hotch's little sister x spencer perhaps?

—Hotch’s sister graduates college, and Spencer is immediately smitten. fem, 1.6k

“She’s pregnant.” Emily shakes her bag of chips around. “But it’s not his baby.” 

Spencer frowns down at his sandwich. Rye bread is hard to cut, and the plastic knife isn’t putting up a good fight. “That’s awful,” he says. “He must be heartbroken.” 

“He’s distraught. Now he can’t decide if he wants to stay and raise the new baby with their first, or leave her and have split custody.” 

“What channel did you say it was on?” 

“It’s on NightDrama. I’ll find out the number.” 

Emily folds the empty packet of chips into a rectangle, then that rectangle into a triangle, folding the edges inside of a fold to create a parcel perfect for flicking at him. Spencer waits for it, tensing, but what he sees behind Emily steals his attention. 

She whips her head to follow him. 

You are, as Spencer watches you walk in, without a doubt one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. And it’s not like you’re a model, you don’t walk with any such confidence, but it strikes him immediately. You’re pretty. And he’s never seen you in the office before. 

They get visitors occasionally but the majority of people so deep into this office would've been checked at security and cleared to come up here. You hold a visitors badge in your hand, which you promptly clip onto your shirt when you see people looking at you. Your frown makes you prettier. Something about the way you stand seems familiar, but Spencer can’t put his finger on what it is. 

“Should we go help?” Emily asks. 

“Who do you think she’s for?” Spencer asks back. He’s thinking you’re here to speak to JJ. They have people like this occasionally who JJ knows from past cases, drifting in on a hope that there’s more detail to be found. 

Emily stands up from her chair. Spencer follows suit. When you see her facing toward you, some of your apprehension melts into relief. 

“Hi,” you say breathily, summoning a smile that, again, seems familiar. Not in looks, but practise, maybe. 

“Hi there, can we help? You look lost,” Emily says. 

She sounds more friendly than Spencer could’ve hoped to achieve. He doesn’t even wanna think about it, from how pretty you are he would’ve stumbled over even the most basic hello. 

“I’m here to see Aaron Hotchner. He told me his office is up the stairs, is that still one of these ones,” —you nod gently at the stairs that do, in fact, lead to his office— “or somewhere else?” 

“That’s the right one, the very first door.” 

“Okay,” you give a soft laugh. “Thank you. This place makes me nervous.” 

You leave to travel up the steps. Emily and Spencer watch without any casualness as you approach Hotch’s office door, and give a little knock. 

It’s more surprising to see it tugged open so quickly after. Hotch usually says, “Come in.” 

“Oh, you’re here,” Hotch says. It’s to Spencer’s shock and Emily’s clear joy when he leans in for a hug. The bearhug kind, no politeness or manners about their intimidating boss as his arms cross behind your shoulders and he pulls you in. “You’re late.” He squeezes you. 

You let it happen. “I hate your building.” 

“What the hell?” Emily whispers. 

“I’m so happy to see you. Come on, come in, I ordered lunch for us already.” 

Emily is shameless. She takes Spencer by the wrist and encourages him to the wall below Hotch’s office as he ushers you inside. The door remains ajar, perfect for snooping, and Spencer doesn’t know what it is but he lets Emily drag him forward anyhow. 

“If that’s his girlfriend, he should be ashamed,” Emily whispers. 

Spencer raises his brows. “Did you think that was romantic?” 

“I’ve never seen him show affection to anyone who wasn’t Haley, and when was the last time she was here?” 

Spencer tosses it around in his mind. Sure, it was quite affectionate by Hotch’s standards, but the hug was so… uncareful. He’d grabbed you and hugged you like he was gonna shake you around for fun, like a dad hugs his daughter. “How old is Hotch?” Spencer asks. 

“You don’t think that’s his secret kid.” 

“No,” Spencer says, though he sort of does. 

Emily gestures for him to hush as your laugh drifts down from the office. “You did?” you’re asking. “It’s so nice to be home.” 

“Of course I did. It’s like I promised, okay? You finished college like I asked you too, you’ve done so well, and now I’m gonna make sure you’re happy. Like I tried to do for Sean.” 

“Sean,” you sigh. “He didn’t even answer my grad card.” 

“I don’t know what to say about him, I really don’t.” 

A small pause. “Well, at least you answered.” 

“You know I would’ve come to watch you walk–”

“But you couldn’t. It’s fine, Aaron, I wasn’t really expecting you to make it.” 

“I’m sorry. Really. And I’m proud of you, after everything.”

“Thank you… The bag was better than you being there anyways. Coach?” You laugh breathily. “My friends keep asking me if you can be their big brother too.” 

Emily and Spencer turn to each other, mouths agape, Emily slapping his arm as they struggle to make no noise. Since when does Aaron have a sister? A young sister freshly graduated? 

Hotch laughs too. “Come and sit before your lunch gets cold.” 

Emily gets out her phone to text Morgan, she and Spencer pressed to the wall with their heads ducked. Hotch is a total enigma, because what the hell sort of secret is that?

When Morgan appears, it’s with all the answers. He rolls his eyes at their clear position of eavesdropping but leans against Emily’s desk to give them the information they’re craving anyways. “She’s adopted. Hotch was already in college at the time, but they’re close. They get along a lot better than Hotch does with Sean, that’s for sure.” 

“He sounds protective,” Emily says, side-eying the office. 

“Look, it’s not my business, but I just know it was bad when she was a teenager. Hotch is a drill sergeant for a reason.” Ah, Spencer thinks. The Hotchner father. 

Spencer picks at his hands. It explains the conversation he shouldn’t have been listening to, to a degree. He feels the guilt of knowing something he wasn’t meant to like a sodden weight, retreating swiftly to his desk and his forgotten sandwich.

It’s nice to hear Hotch laughing, but it’s your laugh that draws him in again while he tries so hard not to listen. It’s as attractive to Spencer as your frown had been when you walked in. He thinks about how you finished college, how you’re here, and he wonders if he’ll see more of you —how often will you come in for lunch? Spencer checks his hair in his sleeping monitor and feels like an idiot. 

“I’m sorry,” Hotch says a little while later, elbowing open the door with his back to the office, “we’ll have dinner soon, honey, I promise.” 

You reach up to give him another quick hug. “It’s fine. It’s just nice to be in the same city again.” 

Hotch guides you down to the bullpen with the same pride with which he introduced Jack. It’s unmissable, the love he has for you in just one touch against your shoulder. “Y/N,” he says, pausing at the bullpen, “Derek Morgan you’ve met. This is Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.” 

“Spencer Reid?” you ask suddenly, looking up into Hotch’s face like he’s lying, your brows pulled together in indignation, before you turn back to Spencer reverently. “You’re Dr. Spencer Reid?” 

He gets caught on his own breath. “Uh, yes?” 

“The Dr. Spencer Reid who wrote Methods of Continued Fraction Expansions?” 

Spencer feels heat like a kiss to each cheek. “Yes.” 

You turn to Hotch with a suspicious pout. “When I told you about the paper I was reading by a Dr. Reid a few months ago, you didn’t stop to think it could be your Dr. Reid? Or you just don’t like me?” 

That’s a sister’s scorn if Spencer’s ever heard it. 

“I thought you said Rain.” 

“I don’t think you did.” You turn back to Spencer. “I can’t believe it, I emailed you about Jacobi elliptical functions, you were so helpful, I owe you my degree.” You put your hand out with a beaming, beautiful smile, Spencer’s stomach totally flips. “It’s amazing to meet you in person.” 

He’s a germaphobe, he is, and that doesn’t just go away when you meet someone lovely, but he shakes your hand. You surprise him too quickly to think beyond taking your hand letting it happen. You’re, like, glowing. 

Hotch gives him a funny look. Mostly impassive, but not quite. 

Spencer abruptly lets you go. “I don’t think you would’ve needed my help to get there in the end. You clearly knew what you were doing.”  

Hotch’s eyebrows silently rise. 

You turn back to Hotch again, your smile catching. “I like your friends.” 

He smiles. “Let me walk you down to the lobby, honey.” 

You let him guide you away, giving the present members of the BAU a wave with just your fingers before you go. 

Morgan and Emily look at him heavily. “Spencer,” Emily says. “What was that?” 

He doesn’t want to say what he thinks it was, so he doesn’t. “She was nice.” 

Morgan’s laughter is immediate. Spencer has to walk off to the kitchen for a cup of tea he doesn’t drink to escape him and the connotation of his laughing. Spencer hopes he’ll see you again soon, though if he’s half a good a profiler as he thinks he is, he might end up in trouble with your brother.

[wave2tyun]

meddle about | ☆

pairing: idol!yeonjun x idol!reader

genre: idol!au, best friends to lovers, some fluff but also a bit suggestive (?) towards the end

prompts: – “you’re blushing”

– “i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now”

warnings: none!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: the inspiration for this came from a wonho photoshoot behind the scenes clip that i randomly saw on ig reels........😟 i hope there aren't any mistakes left in this because i've been lazy and going only by trust when i repost fics asdbhja

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

you and yeonjun didn’t exactly meet…under the greatest circumstances.

as txt’s fame was continuously on the rise, there was no way you had never heard of yeonjun, or the name tomorrow x together. however, it was only when you had your comeback stage at inkigayo that you finally got to see yeonjun in real life, and not just on a screen.

you expected things to go smoothly. yeonjun was going to just take your interview, and then you were going to simply perform with your group on stage, as usual.  

realistically speaking, that was supposed to be it- nothing more than a polite, professional interaction, he was the mc after all. you didn’t even think you’d cross paths with him throughout the day again. but the lunch break had something -quite staggering- in store for you:

the inkigayo sandwich. those words still make you shudder.

as an idol, you had to have one, at least once. it was the talk of town after all, even though the combination of egg, crab and strawberry jam- all squished together between 3 pieces of white bread- didn’t exactly sound appealing to you.

you gulped as you looked at the piece of food in your hands; the smell wasn’t that appetizing either, and you wondered how it was possible for them to have such high sales for a shitty product.

you didn’t want to do it, but the thought of wasting your money without at least having a bite was haunting you. you closed your eyes, anticipating the worst outcome imaginable as the sandwich came closer and closer towards your mouth.

“hey- at least remove that paper before you start eating” one of your members said, making you frown. paper? what paper? the ingredients of the sandwich were already weird enough, what did they add that paper for?

confused, you opened your eyes again, a small note had been carefully placed somewhere between the plastic wrapper and the bread. grossed out, you removed it, moving towards the trash can to throw it away, only to get a glance of a phone number written on the back of it, making you stop in your tracks.

‘call me ;) - choi yeonjun’

now, you see- you only knew that the inkigayo sandwich was famous, you didn’t know why it was famous. 

you angrily searched for choi yeonjun around the cafeteria, shoving the sandwich towards his chest once you found him “what the fuck is this?” you hissed appaled by his actions. not sparing him a single moment to respond, you instantly got into a rant about how you were ‘put in danger’ by him for placing something (almost) inedible in your lunch.

he stared at you with big eyes and raised eyebrows, panicking that you’d blow this out of proportion even more if he excused himself before you were done blowing off some steam. he knew very well not to argue with a sleep deprived person who was also hungry.

“that actually wasn’t meant for you…” he muttered in the end, biting his cheek.

“oh.”

on the way back to the dorms, you swore you’d never step foot back into inkigayo ever again, or at least not until yeonjun stepped down from his position as an mc.

despite the seemingly traumatic event, you still kept the piece of paper containing his number, jam stain and all. you fiddled it around your fingers as you rolled around in bed, unable to fall asleep. it was way past midnight, and the remorse you felt for not having apologised to yeonjun was keeping you wide awake. you had been too embarrassed to utter any more words after hearing his reply and used the first opportunity -which was a member calling out for you- to leave the room. 

the guilt was eating you up, and, in the end, you decided it was best to at least say sorry to him through text. and so you did- not exactly expecting much besides getting blocked by him. 

turns out yeonjun found the situation more amusing rather than infuriating. he accepted your apology with ease, and you promised that you’d buy him lunch the next time you visit inkigayo, as emotional compensation.

yeonjun, however, lied to you that day. the phone number in the sandwich was, in fact, meant for you. he heard from his seniors that ‘back in the day’, this was a particularly popular method to start dating between idols. when it was announced that you’d perform on the day he was mc-ing, he found his chance, took it, then pretty much failed miserably. his attempt at getting to know you better was somewhat saved by your apology text. after the whole ordeal, he decided that it was better to take it step by step and develop his friendship with you before dipping his toes into the dating scheme once again.

bit by bit- yeonjun began to reveal his flirty nature. first, he started bringing food and drinks to your company whenever you told him you had to stay up late, practicing overnight. then, he made sure to always compliment how you looked in music videos or album teasers, sometimes even sending coffee trucks to the filming sites to support you. finally, he started bringing you flowers whenever you were done with comeback stages. the change in his attitude was making you question the status of your relationship. still, knowing how risky this all was, you decided it was foolish to jump to any conclusions- although a part of your heart did cling tightly onto the hope that he did this because he saw you as something more than a friend.

it was no surprise to the public eye that the two of you were close friends in the industry. so, when elle korea wanted a photoshoot between a pair with good chemistry, yeonjun ran to his managers, begging to convince some of the higher-ups to recommend the two of you. not a single soul in the company was able to resist him, so he successfully scored the spot. however, you were only informed that you received an offer for the photoshoot, not that yeonjun had been involved in this whole ordeal.

the concept was not quite what you were expecting.

when you heard the words “a pair with good chemistry” you were expecting a fun, bubbly photoshoot, something colorful maybe- not a sensual, romantic theme. you choked on your spit when they showed you the outfit you were supposed to wear, then choked again when you saw yeonjun’s outfit: black pants and a blue satin button-up shirt that had more than 3 buttons left open, exposing the skin of his chest. 

and -as if the revealing clothes weren’t enough- there was one more detail left that would supposedly “tie this all together”: a kiss mark. on yeonjun’s neck. 

the staff handed you a tube of red lipstick, shoving you and yeonjun in a private dressing room before you could even process the situation.

you stole a look at yeonjun, who pursed his lips, trying to contain his laugh as he made eye contact with you.

“did you know about this?” you asked him with a serious face, pointing the lipstick towards him. why were you the only one baffled here?

yeonjun couldn’t help but let out tiny squeaks as he struggled calm down, your shocked, accusatory expression all too entertaining for him “no” he snickered “why? are you nervous? think you can’t do it?” he crossed his arms.

the attitude with which he said that only earned him a scoff from you “of course i can do it” you said as you walked towards the mirror. once you were in front of it though, you were suddenly way more aware of how sweaty your palms were getting, hands trembling a bit as you put the lipstick on.

yeonjun was never one to shy away from physical touch. you were used to receiving hugs from him, sometimes even having him hold onto your hand or arm, swinging them playfully whenever you walked together. but this? this felt…different. 

intimate. 

it was like a possible breach within your friendship. and while you weren’t exactly nervous about the situation itself, you were definitely afraid about what was going to happen between the two of you after.

yeonjun was already behind you once you finished putting on the makeup and turned around. the playful smirk he’s had ever since you both entered the room never left his face. he lightly quirked up an eyebrow, provoking you to make the move- curious to see if your earlier statement was the truth or whether they were just empty words. unsure what to do with your hands, your fingers didn’t let go of the lipstick tube, playing with it in a restless manner as you inched closer towards yeonjun’s neck. the citrus fragrance of his perfume still lingered on the skin, and you closed your eyes as you left a quick kiss there, the touch too light to leave a mark visible enough. 

“you’re blushing” yeonjun chuckled, tilting his head as he looked in the mirror behind you, clicking his tongue “that’s not right…” he muttered. his gaze was fixated on your face for a few seconds, admiring the pink dusting your cheeks. then, they trailed off to your hands, snatching the item to cover his own lips in that same crimson color. “this is how you do it” he whispered, dipping his head down, arms sneaking around your waist simultaneously. warm breath on your neck, chest flushed against yours, yeonjun could feel your racing pulse underneath his lips as he pressed a long kiss on the hot skin. the chilling sensation running down your spine had your hands unconsciously reaching out for his forearms, holding onto them to keep yourself steady and not slip away from his grasp. 

“i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now” he breathed out, fingers tracing lines along the small of your back. seeing that you weren’t pushing him away, his face didn’t leave its close spot to your body. instead- his lips travelled along the skin, pressing featherly kisses along the way- nibbling, lightly biting, the red marks blooming being hidden away by the lipstick covering them.

the mirrors, the vanity lights, even the photoshoot itself, they were all turning into a hazy memory as you were becoming more and more enthralled by him. completely absorbed by his touch on your body, you felt like you wouldn’t be able to breathe properly again until he carried on with the next step. “jun-” the sound of the nickname was enough to send an electrifying jolt throughout his heart. his own breathing was irregular as he stopped, distancing himself a bit from your neck to lift his head up, plush lips and smudged lipstick coming into sight. 

“we’re not leaving this room until you kiss me on the lips”

taglist: @huekalover3000

[moonchildstyles]

hyssop

rosemary part two: y/n made harry want to try, even if he didn't always believe he deserved the chance

wordcount: 11.5k+

—————

The spring-inspired logo of The Flour Pot gleamed in the Sunday morning sunshine, the front window crystal clear and streak free. With this week's trip being later in the morning after Harry managed to sleep some, the bakery wasn't quite as busy as he'd seen it in the past. He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. 

While many of those initial anxieties he'd felt that first time he dared even stepping onto the sidewalk had melted away like butter in a croissant, there was still a part of him that braced himself when approaching those front doors. The butterflies were an enemy he had control over currently, but they always got bold whenever he was too close to (Y/N). He still kept his hands clenched in his pockets. 

Peering through the glass doors, he saw only a pair of patrons sitting at one of the tables, a set of pastries between them with only one fork to share. Both of the women looked content sharing those bites. Slipping inside, the bakery lacked the kind of noise he'd begun to associate with the space. The queue to the front register was only two people long. 

But, (Y/N) wasn't there.

The same dark-haired girl he'd seen the last time he traveled through was there along with the boy darting through the pastry case, but there was no bouncing bow or arms laden with heaps of bread. There was a part of him that deflated at that. He knew it was a bit later in the morning than his previous visits, but he figured that she'd still be here. He was only a couple of hours late. 

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Harry felt extremely out of place in the shop. Without (Y/N) there, there wasn't much of a reason for him to be there—even if the pastries were delicious. Toeing at the ground, he wanted to inch towards the exit, leave before anyone could really notice, but it wasn't busy enough to make an exit without feeling eyes on him.

Before he had a chance to make any plan, dark brown eyes of the attendant behind the register landed on him. She brightened at the sight, flicking her attention back and forth between him and the customer she was helping at the desk. She recognized him. 

Just as the next client stepped up to order, the other waiting off to the side for their order, Harry saw her ask for a moment. She told the customer that she would be right with him, she just needed to take care of something super quick.

With that, her long ponytail brushing her back, she disappeared through the cafe doors. True to her word, she was back in a moment, a smile shot in Harry's direction. She was right back to helping her client, apologizing for the delay. 

It was a beat later that (Y/N) emerged. 

Her cheeks were stretched into a smile, and eyes bright as she spotted him almost immediately. Her plastic gloves were quickly stripped from her hands as she approached him, her hair lacking a bow in favor of a sparkling clip. 

"Harry!" she beamed, looping around the counter to meet him where he stood in the middle of the shop. 

Harry swallowed down the smile that wanted to take over his features. No one had been excited to see him in years. 

"Hi, (Y/N)." His heart skipped a beat when her smile grew that much larger at his greeting. 

He followed her lead as she stepped off to the side, out of the way of anyone should the line grow and other patrons enter. She stood with her hip popped, discarded gloves bunched between her hands. "Did you just get off work?" 

Shaking his head, he allowed his gaze to take a trip down her form. Flour spotted her top, soft leggings conforming to the shape of her legs and well-worn shoes on her feet. "No, I went home and slept a little before coming in." 

(He slept for a little over an hour, but that was better than nothing). 

"When did you get off?" she asked, shifting her weight on her feet. 

Pulling one of his hands from his pocket, he brushed the tip of his nose with his knuckle. "I usually get off around four or six depending on what time 'm schedule to go in." 

"In the morning?" she blanched, stretching her neck with a furrow in her brow. 

Harry hummed a confirmation. 

"Oh," she sounded, her eyes wide, "I knew you worked late shifts, but I guess I never thought you worked all night. I don't know how you do it; I hate getting up before the sun is up, I don't think I could work like that." 

Shrugging, Harry brought his hand up and repeated the brush against his nose to conceal his mouth. The tiniest of curls touched the corner of his mouth, the closest thing to a smile he'd given to another in a long while. The bubbliest non-morning person he'd ever met, he thought. 

"Y'get used to it."

"Well, I'm happy you could come in today because I have some stuff for you." Her voice was something like a song, lilting around her words as she rocked on her heels. 

Harry wasn't sure if it was his lungs or his heart that squeezed at the sound of that. "Yeah?" 

"Mhmm," she hummed, "Go sit down and I'll go get everything. I'll take my break right now too so we can talk a little." 

Before he could say much else, she was scooting back to the kitchen, her bound back hair being the last thing he saw before the cafe doors closed behind her. From the corner of his eye, he saw the dark-haired cashier glance at him, a short smile on her lips as she continued to wipe down the counters. 

Harry took a spot towards the back, a few places away behind the couple who paid no other patrons any mind. His restless hands did what they do best as he began to pick at his cuticles, the beds still raw from the last time he plucked at the frayed skin.

By the time (Y/N) was strolling out of the kitchen, the waiting patrons had exited, leaving only he and the other couple filling the lobby. The dark-haired girl behind the desk had huddled into the corner shielded by the pastry case, her phone in her hands as she took advantage of the lull in clientele. (Y/N) had a ramekin with a puffy pastry she was carefully holding in one hand while the other had a plain, square Tupperware case. 

She hopped on the high stool in front of him, that table bracing her weight as she carefully shifted with her gifts. With the duo laid out in front of him, a spoon balanced on the top of the Tupperware, she gave him a giddy smile. 

"I know it's closer to lunch than breakfast at this point, but I did make you one of those soufflés I was telling you about." As she spoke, she pushed the ramekin towards him, the lightweight top of the soufflé puffed and golden brown. "I also made focaccia last night, and saved you a square if you wanted to try." 

"Focaccia?" he posed, grabbing the spoon from her outstretched hand. 

"It's a kind of bread," she laughed, the sound light and airy, "You can make it a whole bunch of different ways, but last night I made it with black pepper, basil, and a little bit of parmesan. Have you ever tried it?" 

"Maybe?" he shrugged. (There was a period of time back when his sister was distracted with her boyfriend a lot, that his mother didn't know what to do with herself and decided to try her hand at bread making. He could never and would never tell her, but she wasn't very good, so there was a high chance that he'd tried a version of whatever bread (Y/N) was talking about, just a very bad version that he didn't give more than a nibble to). 

"Try the soufflé first while it's still warm from the oven, and then I'll show you the bread," (Y/N) decided.

While there was something a bit awkward knowing that (Y/N) was going to watch him eat and wait for a reaction to something she made with him in mind, there was no universe in which Harry was going to say no to homemade food. After being accustomed to frozen meals and canned foods, things like this with real flavor were things Harry cherished more than what was probably normal. 

He kept his eyes on his hands as he poked the spoon through the eggy top layer of the treat, strings of cheese clinging to the utensil as he scooped out a bite. A plume of fragrant steam lifted through the air, holding notes of rosemary and thyme with the bite of a salty cheese. Popping it in his mouth, Harry felt that pressure to give her a good reaction disappearing. He wouldn't have to make anything up when he swallowed it down, the praise was going to come naturally. 

The bite was custardy and warm, while being entirely light and airy. Hints of the different cheeses were sprinkled throughout, still warm and melty from the steam that had collected in the middle of the pastry. Ribbons of spinach added a bitter bite that cut through the cheese and egg, adding to the fresh herbs that were sprinkled across the top of (Y/N)'s creation. It was perfect—better than the scone even, but Harry had a feeling that anything he ate of her's, he would decide it was better than the last. 

As much as he wanted to tell her how well she did, he couldn't wait that long to take another bite. Maybe he was a bit frantic, eager to try another shoveled bite, but the only reason Harry figured as much was because of the huffed laugh that (Y/N) let out. He could still feel her eyes on him, though now he only felt the warmth, not the weight. 

"(Y/N)," he started after finally pulling the spoon away from the treat, "This is... I didn't think y'could make anything better than the scone, but this is amazing. Really." He hoped she understood how much he meant what he was saying, even if he held onto his stoic mask. 

The booming smile that took over her features had something close to pride sitting in the back of Harry's chest. He liked knowing that he could put a smile like that on her face, even if there was a valid argument he could make stating he didn't deserve it. 

"I'm so happy you like it!" Her voice bubbled bright and giddy as she spoke. "They're one of my favorite things to make, even if they're a little hard to deal with sometimes. If you ever want one and it's not Friday, just let me know before you come in and I can put one aside for you." 

Having been unable to stop himself from taking another bite, Harry had to rush to swallow it down by the time she stopped speaking. He nodded to her, taking down the eggy, cheesy, salty bite in a heady swallow. "Thank you," he told her again, "That's really nice, (Y/N)." 

He didn't know how, but her bright smile seemed to grow wider as she watched him take another heaping bite. Her cheek was smushed against the palm of her hand she had splayed over the side of her face, her elbow propped onto the table. 

"You don't have to finish it if you don't want, though. I know it's pretty heavy, and we still have the bread I wanted to share with you," she said, though she didn't make any attempt to stop him when he shook his head. 

"I'll finish it," he told her bluntly, a little too invested in the soufflé to care about the huffed laugh she let out at his reaction. A beat passed while she tried to hide how happy she was to see him scarf down her food before Harry began to savor the bites once he made it to the bottom of the cup. "How much do I owe you?" he asked, having almost forgot about the price of the treat. 

A knit pinched her brows together though her eyes remained bright. "What do you mean?" 

"For this." His own expression mimicked hers with his brows drawing together in the middle. 

"Oh," she sounded, the word coming out on a breath, "Don't worry about it. I got it covered." 

That had him pausing on the last couple of bites left of the soufflé. "No. How much do I owe you?" 

Something stubborn had her eyes hardened when she looked at him across the small table. "You're not paying for this, Harry. It was a gift from me, don't worry." 

"'M not taking free food from you, (Y/N). That's not fair after all the work y'did and everything," he argued. 

"You are," she countered, a surprisingly firm edge to her voice, "I don't care. I wanted to do this for you, so I think it's perfectly fair. Now finish it so we can have some of the bread before I have to get back to work." 

"(Y/N)..."

She didn't let him get very far before he was cut off, "Harry." 

As much as he knew she was trying to tell him that he would be in trouble with her if he pushed the issue further, he liked seeing her get a little stern. It was cute seeing her go from the chirping, bubbly tone she used almost exclusively to putting her foot down over something so trivial. He thought she looked rather pretty like this. 

He decided, looking at her trying to be stern in her Flour Pot uniform and shimmering nails, that he'd make it up to her somehow, this free breakfast. 

Looking all too smug when he didn't argue back, (Y/N) brightened up when she saw him take the last bite. 

"Thank you again, (Y/N)," he told her, wiping his face with one of the napkins in the holder on the table.

"Of course, Harry," she beamed at him, practically bouncing in her spot, "I'm just happy you liked it. I was getting nervous because I think I talked it up a little, so I didn't want to disappoint you." 

He wanted to tell her that he was almost completely sure that there wasn't any way she could disappoint him. He kept his mouth shut. 

She pushed the Tupperware towards him, the lip of the lid grasped between her fingers. "Do you think you still have room to try?" 

Peeling back the lid, a square of dimpled bread was revealed to him. Basil leaves were pressed into the surface of the bread, crisped and preserved under a layer of crusty cheese. Flakes of black pepper could be seen throughout the dough and sprinkled over the top. The bread perfumed the air with spicy black pepper notes and the warmth of the cheese and basil. A small section of the container was cupped off, holding a creamy dip, tinted a golden yellow. 

"I definitely have some room," he decided, his eyes growing to the size of his stomach with all the food being offered to him.

Fresh bread and a warm breakfast all in one day. She was spoiling him. 

"Is it okay if I have a little with you? I made sure there would be enough for the both of us if you're okay with sharing." 

"'S your food, 'course I don't mind," he told her, his lips turning into a frown. She was sharing with him, not the other way around. 

Harry waited for her to take her first bite, fingers plucking off a corner with a basil leaf imprinted into the top. The bread was light and airy when he took his turn, chewy and soft when he pinched it between his fingers. He watched as she dipped into the condiment she had told him was a garlic aioli. One of her favorites; both to make and eat.

Just as he went to take his first dip into the sauce, (Y/N) had the same idea. Their fingers bumped, (Y/N) pulling back immediately with a soft sound exiting her lips. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until his lungs began to ache. 

"Sorry," he said first, jerking his chin, "You first." 

(Y/N) hesitated for only a second, her eyes on him before she blinked in a flutter of long lashes. "Thanks," she chirped out, recovering as she dipped her next bite into the aioli. 

When it was Harry's turn, he almost felt bad to be eating so much of her food when it should be celebrated from the rooftops for everyone to see and try. The crust on top was warm and crunchy, salty with the help of the parmesan she had spread across, while the middle was light and chewy. A bite was given to each taste with the help of the black pepper.

In an unsurprising turn of events, Harry wanted to say this was his favorite thing she'd ever made before. 

"This might be my favorite," Harry settled on, waiting his turn before he plucked off another bite, the warm oil drizzled atop the bread shimmering on his fingers. "I know I keep saying it, but this is really amazing (Y/N). It's been a really long time since I've had anything like this, but you're really amazing at this." 

He knew he was rambling, a habit he wasn't familiar with as his tongue fumbled around the words before he had a chance to stop them. He only managed to quit when he shoved another bite of the focaccia into his mouth, the bread all but melting over his tongue. 

Her smile was ever-present as she spoke, "Thank you. I haven't been making bread like this for very long, on my own at home and all. I'm not super great at it yet, but it's been really fun and I think I'm getting better. It's more fun than the baguettes and sourdoughs I make here, I think. I get to make it however I want." 

"You're very talented, (Y/N)." The compliment felt lame falling from his lips but it was the best he could do before he started going off again, possibly telling her how amazing she was once more.

She chirped her gratitude out, all but glowing under his praise. He liked knowing he could make her feel like that, give her the sunshine look that warmed her features. 

The bread between them slowly dwindled to small chunks the longer they sat across from one another. (Y/N) told him more about the bakery and the people she worked with, what she liked making at home and what she preferred to keep at work. She didn't make him talk for more than a few hums here and there, allowing him to soak in her presence and settle into her without worrying about what he could share with her and what would be better to keep to himself. 

The longer they sat, more and more patrons flitted into the shop. It started as a trickle, the groups small enough to be attended to before another would step up. The line didn't reach longer than a pair of people. Until the lunch rush came in. 

(Y/N) cut herself off when a large group made their way in. Her eyes scanned the growing line and the pastry case that was getting picked through with every person that placed their order. 

"I should probably get back to work. I definitely took longer than fifteen minutes with you," she said, looking more than a little reluctant to hop off her stool, "But you can stay as long as you want, eat however much you want." Just as she turned on her heel, a goodbye on her lips and wave on her fingers, he saw her stop in her tracks, turning back to face him. "Thank you for coming in, by the way. My days are always a little nicer when I get to see you." 

Harry's hand clenched around the napkin he had been using to wipe his fingers and clean his face, the paper crumbling in his grip. His throat was dry, tongue too big for his mouth as he took in what she saw. How was he supposed to respond to something like that, when he almost wondered if he knew any words at all? Those butterflies were sabotaging him. 

Even with Harry's lack of response, (Y/N) didn't look perturbed at all. She gave him that glowing smile once more—bright but only for him. "I'll see you later?" 

"Y-Yeah," he stuttered out, a disjointed nod accompanying the word. 

That was all she needed to hear before she was turning back to the kitchen. She waved at him, tossing that smile over her shoulder. "Bye, Harry." 

"Bye, (Y/N)." 

By the time Harry felt as though he needed to leave, he felt relaxed enough he could sleep some of the day away. He doubted a nightmare could enter his brain after a moment like this—the vision of (Y/N) in his brain, scented with soft bread and pastries made with only him in mind. 

—————

It was a habit now for Harry to park in the same spot by the bakery every time he went into town. Even if he had no intention of sneaking inside and getting a glimpse of a fluttering bow and a whiff of rosemary, he always took his place across the street from The Flour Pot. The fresh air and the extra steps were good for him, anyway.

Getting out of his car, library books at his side, he couldn't help but to glance at the building. He cast a lingering look through the glass, eyes scanning through the pane in hopes of seeing a familiar face. It was an old instinct coming to the surface after so long of burying it underneath his hopes of a different life; he used to do the same, checking on his mother and sister to ensure they were safe and none of his mistakes had found them. The same habit was beginning to form for (Y/N). 

Through the window pane, he saw her standing behind the pastry case, her profile to him as she spoke to the dark-haired girl he now knew to be her friend Sabrina. (Y/N) gesticulated as she talked, hands held out with her fingers spread out, emphasizing whatever story she was telling that had Sabrina holding back her laugh behind her own hand. 

Harry had to drop his gaze, stitching his gaze to his feet as he walked to keep the smile from creeping onto his features. 

Heading towards the library, Harry created a rhythm as he counted the cracks in the sidewalk with loose pieces of pavement kicking up with every step. It was on the sixteenth crack that he heard his name being called out behind him. 

He knew that voice. 

The plastic covering on his library book crackled when he tightened his grip on the spine. Looking over his shoulder, there was that smiling face framed by those stray strands of hair that escaped her ribboned bun. She beamed at him where she stood across the intersection from him, the dark pavement separating them. 

"Wait up!" she called, looking both ways before scampering over the painted crosswalk to meet him. She slowed to a stop in front of him, the straps of her bag sliding off her shoulder. "Hi," she chirped out.

"Hi," he answered, his voice sounding decidedly less excitable than her own even if his chest was thumping, 

"How are you?" she asked, "Today's your day off, right?" 

"Yeah," he mumbled out, nodding his head, "I jus' woke up, so 's going alright so far." 

"Long night last night?" she continued, getting comfortable in the conversation even if it was nothing more than small talk. 

Harry recalled the twitch that had started in his eye now that Theo and the others had started trying to chat with him during the overnight shifts since Harry had accidentally opened the floodgates with his questions about (Y/N). "A little bit," he settled on, holding back a sigh, "But 's alright. How about you?" 

Casting her gaze behind her to the bakery she'd just run out of, she only shrugged before looking back at him. "I don't like doing mids so they're always long, but I'm done for the day at least," she smiled at him, glancing at the book at his side, "Are you going to the library?" 

Shifting his weight on his feet, Harry felt a little more exposed than he felt comfortable with. He always felt much more at ease when (Y/N) spoke of herself or he was able center questions around her. 

Swallowing, Harry nodded.

(Y/N) perked up at his answer, almost bouncing in her spot. "I didn't know you went to the library and everything," she started, "I just finished at the bakery for the day, would it be alright if I tagged along?" 

Another invitation, but one that he was to extend to her. 

It felt personal in an odd way to invite her to accompany him, to see him pick out different novels and how he interacted with people that aren't her. The universe around them seemed to only extend to The Flour Pot and the grocery store—the only places where he was allowed to exist around her. 

But, if this was their universe, then she was the center star. She beamed up at him, the kind of sun a creature like him would warm himself under, trailing pathetically behind. How he is supposed to say no to that? 

"Sure," he mumbled out, "A-Are y'sure y'don't want to go home?" If it were him, after a long shift, he wouldn't even entertain the idea of doing anything other than heading home right away. 

"I have too much energy to go home," she bubbled, inching closer to him to match his route to the library, "I had coffee this morning, so I'm all over the place. I'm worried about what I would do to my living room if I go home right now; I'd probably rearrange everything and decide to redecorate with money I don't have." 

Dropping his gaze to his feet, Harry hid the twitch that tugged at the corner of his lips. 

He fell into step beside her, slowing his paces as they trekked down the sidewalk to the library on the corner. She tugged on the strap of her bag, the lengths seemingly constantly falling from her shoulder. 

"When did you get home last night?" (Y/N) asked, her voice floating over the sound of the cracked concrete under their feet.

Harry shrugged, shifting his books into the opposite hand leaving the one closest to her swinging at his side. "I stayed a little late and made it home by four." 

(Y/N) shook her head, fixing the strap of her bag once more. "I'm starting to think you're a vampire, Harry," she chided, "I don't know how you do it. I like to stay up late and everything too, but I only like the nighttime because I have nothing I need to do." 

"You get used to it," he told her. Harry could feel his features softening at her bubbly remarks. 

"Sure," she said, lilting her voice into a tease, "Anyway, what are we looking for at the library today?" 

Bringing his hand up to brush a knuckle under the tip of his nose, Harry felt that exposure again. "Jus' returning these, and probably check out a few more." 

"What are your favorite kinds of books?" (Y/N) bounced in her steps beside him, glancing up at him with that sunshine face. "I didn't know you liked to read so much." 

Just as Harry brought in a heavy breath through his nose, the steps to the library doors were in front of them. The proverbial bell that save him, he decided. Instead of giving her any kind of answers he was able to grab the stainless steel door handle and pull it open. "After you," he murmured to (Y/N).

The laugh that fell from her lips was enough to keep his chest from constricting so tightly. He hadn't even meant to make her laugh, but he'd take it whenever she was willing to give it. 

(Y/N) waited just inside for him, only stepping towards the front desk when Harry was beside her. Ms. Klarke looked at them over the green frames of her glasses, brows rising with her eyes widening for only a moment before she fell back into that same pleasant expression she always greeted Harry with. 

"Hello, Mr. Styles," she started, something in her eyes flashing before she moved onto his companion, "and Ms. (Y/N)." 

"Hi, Ms. Klarke," (Y/N) chirped. 

Harry felt out of place for a moment, listening to them speak to each other with the kind of familiarity he hadn't been invited into for years now. He only offered a small wave to the librarian in greeting, "Hi." 

"How can I help you two today?"

(Y/N) looked to him immediately. Harry's hand started sweating around the plastic covering of his borrowed book. "Jus' here to return these and get something new," he mumbled once he reached the wooden desk. 

"Already?" Ms. Klarke asked, "I'm going to run out of books for you soon, if you keep this up." She swiped his books off the counter, tapping away at her computer before swiping them under the scanner. "Lucky for you, though," she continued, "I did get some new ones I put out yesterday on your shelves if you wanted to look there first." 

"Thank you," Harry said, feeling shy now that he had someone at his side. He hadn't had anyone there to run errands with in years. 

"By the way," (Y/N) piped up, her eyes on the librarian, "We're bringing back some of those special croissants at the bakery, Ms. Klarke. This Sunday we'll have some of the currant ones and the fig sandwich ones, if you want to come by." 

Ms. Klarke's expression brightened like Harry had never seen before, a hand landing on her hip as she looked at (Y/N). "Thank you, dear! That's so exciting, thank you for letting me know." 

"Of course," (Y/N) beamed, offering up extra information to Ms. Klarke while Harry kept his eyes on the grains of the wooden desk. 

He felt like a potted plant, standing in the middle of the interaction. At least this was saving him time before (Y/N) would follow him into the shelves and watch as he picked out new books to try. 

Soon enough, the conversation ended with Ms. Klarke prompting them to look around, (Y/N) looked to Harry to lead the way. 

"Where to first?" Her gaze dropped down the opposing wings of the library, each end marked with flags showing off different genres. 

The shelves were packed with books, some visibly old with cracked spines and barcodes that had been replaced more than once, while others were vibrantly bright with fresh packaging. Spaces were left here and there for new arrivals to make a home, but it seemed like a place like this wouldn't ever run out of space no matter how many volumes were shoved into the empty spaces. 

"This way," he said, shoving his now empty hand into his pocket. 

Harry trailed through the shelves, not even bothering to look up at the markers as he went. He knew where he was going, even if he took slow steps as if contemplating where to go next.

The mystery section was the last one to amble through before reaching Harry's destination. The dark spines with words like murder and cold case. He didn't bother to look too close at the editions. Mystery wasn't a genre he enjoyed anymore, not since many of the subjects became the things he was trying to run from not escape into. 

Bypassing the space, Harry led them to the shelves just an aisle over. The romance section. 

Among the stacks were the stereotypical shirtless covers with overtly sexual titles, the kind of books that would have been on the roster of a women's wine and book club. Interspersed through were the bright covers Harry was more familiar with, blocky titles with drawn covers and bestselling authors. 

He could hear (Y/N)'s footsteps behind him, following him into the section he took his time getting to. The pat of her feet stopped just beside him. 

"You like romance books?" 

Swallowing, Harry feigned an attempt to get a closer look at a book as he crouched down. He didn't want to see her face if she had any other thoughts about his selection. "It's easy to read," he told her, eyeing a volume with gold lettering over a dark blue cover, constellations decorating the binding, "Happy endings and all that." 

"That's why I like them, too," she said after a beat, her voice soft to match the ambiance of the library, "There's always so much going on, it's nice to read something happy and soft instead of focusing on all the bad." 

An invisible pressure that had been pressing on his chest waned at her words. While there wasn't much opportunity to share his preferred book genre with others, Harry hadn't ever wanted to. He always figured it was a little embarrassing to admit to reading kissing books. Of course (Y/N) wouldn't have any kind of problem with it, though. He should have figured. 

The static of her presence shifted as she began her own perusal of the shelves. A beat of silence settled between the two of them, only the whisper of another patron heard down the aisle. 

Swallowing, Harry felt his heartbeat in his chest. "I also like to read fantasy stuff sometimes," he told her, feeling all too nervous to be sharing something so trivial about himself. 

Her response came in the form of a small hum, "Really? What kind do you like?" 

Distracting his restless hands, Harry plucked the blue book from the shelf, the plastic covering crackling under his fingers. "Kind of like Dracula and those kinds of things," he mumbled, pretending as if he didn't feel her eyes on him, "They're hard to read sometimes, jus' because the language is hard to understand, but I think they're pretty interesting." 

"I don't know if I could read any of those monster books, honestly," she said, huffing out a laugh, "I think I would give myself nightmares if I read them after dark, but they do sound really interesting. I want to know if it's still as scary now as it was back then." 

The thought of (Y/N), perky and bright as she was, sitting down with a book like Dracula or one of the other great gothic horrors, had Harry almost breaking into a smile while looking at the book in his hand. He'd be interested to see her reaction to something that dark. 

A process Harry was far too familiar with started then: the seemingly endless browsing of library shelves. Even after picking out the trio of books that would keep him busy for the week, he didn't find any kind of rush to head out immediately after. (Y/N) meandered with him, finding her own interesting reads before restocking them on the shelf. Harry could hear her mumbling something about needing to get a library card. 

"So this is what you do on your days off?" she asked once they reconvened around a shelf of autobiographies. 

Nodding, Harry had his eyes forward as he spoke. "Usually. I visit you, the library, and sleep. Nothing exciting." 

"That sounds so nice, though," she all but melted, "I feel like I'm so busy all the time, even when I'm not at work. I know I'm lucky to be doing a hobby of mine for work, but it does take out some of the fun of baking for myself, you know? And it used to be a kind of stress reliever, but now it just feels like I'm doing my work again." 

"I'm sorry," he told her, brows knitting in the middle at the explanation. He'd never really thought about it like that, if he was being honest. He always figured that if you're doing something you love, you never work—or whatever it was that quote said. "I've never thought about it like that." 

"I didn't either before I started," she shared, "But, it's okay, really. I still enjoy baking and my job is easy because of that, I just don't have the urge to bake in my free time like I used to." 

"As long as you're happy," he murmured. He felt as though it was a secret he was sharing with her between the stacks, that he thought at all about her happiness. 

Her finger paused on the spine of the book she was tracing over, a falter in her route. Looking up at her, he saw the ghost of a smile on her lips. 

"Do you bake or cook or anything like that?" she asked once she seemingly recovered, her attention now placed on the autobiography of an eighties songwriter. 

Taking in a deep breath, he kept himself from drawing his gaze over her profile. His attention was forcefully placed on what looked like a memoir of a philosopher. "Not really. Baking is too scientific for me; all the measuring makes me feel like I'll mess it up," he offered, "And, I don't really cook anymore." 

"Anymore?"

It was an innocent question. The wording he used was something anyone would pick up on, so he wasn't sure why he felt nervous knowing that she picked up on it. He swallowed, throat bobbing around the building words. 

"Yeah, I don't cook much anymore but when I lived with my—um—my mum we used to cook together a lot." Though it was little more than a sentence, this was the most he'd talked about his past to anyone in over a handful of years. He just hoped she didn't ask about his mom. 

"That's really sweet," she said, looking up from where she was reading the back description of one of her books, "What did you like to cook?" 

Relief touched his chest at the new subject matter. It didn't matter how long it's been since he and his family had to scatter themselves around, it was still hard to speak on them when he never got to process the grief over losing them. This was easier, speaking about her indirectly, even if he could still feel that well of emotion growing heavier in his stomach. 

"We liked to make this soup together a lot; it had rice and chicken sometimes and other little things. I think I was too young to really pay attention to what she was putting in before she had me doing something else. It was that and a lot of grilled cheeses, and Sunday dinners, and just... things she knew I liked." 

Harry felt himself shutting down when he started uncovering more and more memories in the kitchen with his mother. Those moments were what they had left up until things changed, her always having him help even when he was old enough to do more than wash the produce and stir the pot. His defense mechanism of shutting down kicked in, shutting him out of his own memories and own recollection of those days. 

"That's really cute," (Y/N) murmured, looking at him with something in her eyes that looked entirely too soft to be directed at him. Her gaze lingered before it dropped back to the book in her hands. "I've always been okay at cooking, but before I started at the bakery, I used to make cupcakes all the time." 

Cupcakes. That was much easier to focus on. He almost wanted to thank her for changing the subject. 

"Yeah?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, sliding the book back into place on the shelf, "I used to try all kinds of weird flavors with different frostings and little designs in all different colors. It was so fun, but now the idea of doing something like that after I get home from work makes my hands hurt before I've even started." 

A furrow pinched at Harry's brows. That same instinct he had that urged him to check on her earlier piped up once again. "Do your hands hurt a lot from work?" 

"Sometimes," she shrugged, facing him with the tendrils of her bow fluttering behind her, "If I'm working on the bread case that day, then yeah. All of the yeast stuff that needs me to really work with it and everything, that hurts my hands the worst, but it usually depends on the prep." 

It was the way her face dropped when she said the word prep and how quickly she pulled out her phone afterwards that had that concerned instinct flaring once more. Even as she tapped away at whatever it was that lived in her phone, her attention stitched elsewhere, he still squared his shoulders as if to show her he could help. "What's wrong?" 

"I almost completely forgot I have to go in for an overnight this weekend. Sabrina was supposed to, but she has a concert that night she doesn't want to miss," she sighed, finishing whatever it was that was on her screen before putting her phone back into her bag, "It's basically just a prep shift while we're closed so the opener is ready to put things in the oven. I haven't done one in so long; I don't want to." 

"You can't get out of it?" Harry pressed, feeling worried over how much she didn't want to do it. 

Was there more he needed to be concerned about? Was she hiding from something? Was someone making her do this? How was he supposed to help her if she didn't tell him what was going on?

"It's honestly not that bad, I'm just being dramatic," she smiled at him, relaxing some under the intensity of his gaze, "These are the kinds of shifts that hurt my hands the most, but it's nice going on when everything is closed. I don't have to be in uniform, and I can just listen to music and be by myself for a little while." 

By myself. That pinged in Harry's head a little too loudly. He understood what she was getting at—the kind of solitude that had him gravitating towards his own overnight shift—, but that didn't ease him into the idea of her being alone overnight in the bakery. 

"I'll be like you that day," she told him, kicking her toe lightly against his own Vans, "A vampire getting up before the sun is up, and everything." 

He wanted to lighten up, especially at the small touch she offered him without reason, but he still was working overtime in his head. "You'll be alone? No one else is coming in with you?" 

"Yeah, but it's not so bad," she said, inching out the aisle with Harry following her lead, "I'll see one of the other girls when I come in after we close, but after that it's just me." He was sure she could tell he wasn't completely eased at the new centimeter of information. "I promise it's not as bad as I was acting. I don't even think I'll need to drive that day, so I won't need to worry about parking or anything either." 

Though Harry knew she was trying to reference back to when she told him that she wasn't very good at parking and always made herself nervous when she had to pick a spot in the overflow lot by the bakery, he was focusing too much on the fact she wasn't planning on driving at all. 

"What do y'mean?" 

"I think I'm going to walk to work that day since it'll be so quiet, anyway. It'll help me relax a little afterwards, I think." 

Harry almost stopped in his tracks. She planned on walking to her overnight shift. The shift that exclusively deals in dark nights and little to no light? The one that encourages those that feel too comfortable in the dark to come out and mess with someone like her? The spines of his chosen books crackled at his tightening grip. 

"You're going to walk?" 

"I live in a townhouse a few blocks over, so it's not a long walk or anything. I would do it more often, I just hate usually have things to do afterwards that I need to drive for." 

"What time do y'get off?" The question rolled off his tongue before he had even decided he was going to ask as much. He hoped he wasn't coming off as creepy as he sounded. 

"I think I'm scheduled until two, but I usually stay a little longer just to make sure everything is resting well before I leave." The information was offered to him with no fight. Another red flag to Harry's too cautious brain. Worst case scenarios began to brew in his brain with villains who made sure to exploit her trusting nature. 

He brushed a knuckle against the tip of his nose, taking in a deep breath. "If you're willing to wait a little until I get off, I can walk y'home." 

It was (Y/N)'s turn for her steps to falling in the meandering trail they were curating through the stacks. She looked at him with an incredulous look on her face, brows raised and eyes wide. "Really?" 

A determined set had his features in hard lines. A furrow scrunched Harry's brows, mouth set into a hard line with a jaw to match, gaze stitched to her own. He didn't waver even when he faltered over his words. "I...I don't like the idea of y'walking alone in the dark." 

The incredulous mold of her features melted away to something much more shy and flustered. A small smile curled her lips, her eyes softening as she looked up at him through a flutter of lashes. She was the closest thing to the human embodiment of the butterflies that made their home in Harry's stomach. 

"You don't mind after working all night?" 

"No." 

Her smile grew some at his simple answer. "I think I'd like that, then. Thank you, Harry." 

Harry only dropped her gaze to keep her from spotting the small curl of his lips over the sound of her voice wrapping around his name like silk. 

—————

Harry had his eyes glued to the clock stationed above the computer in the stock room. The second the hands thunked into position, detailing out three o'clock, he was punching out. Not a minute later. He wasn't going to be late with someone waiting on him.

He promised (Y/N)'d he'd be there to walk her home, and he wasn't going to be a second late. 

It was barely 3:02 a.m. when he stepped out into the rain-soaked parking lot, scaling the length to his car. All night had felt like a countdown, Harry near constantly checking the time on his phone to ensure he would finish with his boxes in time to clock out right away when the time struck. Other than a wave over his shoulders, he didn't waste time playing into the chatty goodbyes of his coworkers. (Even on regular nights, he didn't understand how they could be so eager to socialize at three in the morning after a full shift). 

After pulling out of the parking lot, the drive to her bakery felt like five minutes with the way he was driving. He especially didn't want her to wait long enough for (Y/N) to get any wild ideas about waiting outside the front doors for him. But, as he pulled up to the building, The Flour Pot sign darkened, there was no one there. 

Peering through the windows after he picked his usual parking space across the street, he saw only a tiny light. Knowing what he knew of the layout, it looked as if it could be one the light to the kitchen or a back office, but the shine could easily be mistaken for a glare from oncoming traffic. 

That was where (Y/N) was. Safe inside. 

The drumming in his chest settled at the knowledge. He hadn't realized he had given so much weight to the scenario where he would pull up to her already walking home without him, some faceless entity trailing her, opening its maw to reveal sharpened fangs before swallowing her whole. (He'd been thinking about checking out Dracula again since their conversation in the library, but after this he figured his imagination was a little too active for something like that). 

Now it was his turn to wait. She had warned him that she would be later than her scheduled time of two o'clock, and he had no qualms about waiting it out for her. He was a patient person, a virtue Harry and learned in his old life, but this was one of the first times he felt content to wait for someone. As long as she didn't leave without him. 

Harry settled into his seat, soft music filtering through the speakers. 

——————

Almost an hour later, from the corner of his eye, Harry saw movement from inside the bakery. The light in the back had been flicked off moments before he saw a comfy dressed figure slipping out of the front door.

(Y/N) had her hair pulled back, a loose shirt on with soft leggings and her ever-present Vans on her feet. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, hands full of her keys and her phone. She took her time locking the front doors.

Through that hour of waiting, fatigue had settled in Harry's bones, making his movements much more lethargic than normal as he readied to meet her on the sidewalk. Until he saw her pull out a pair of headphones from her bag, slipping the buds into her ears before turning in the opposite direction of the shop. 

Though he didn't want to scare her, Harry had to quicken his pace and catch up with her as soon as he could. She didn't seem to hear the thud of his feet over the pavement and splashing through rain puddles until he was close enough to call her name. (Any kind of creature could have snuck up on her with her being so distracted like that. The thought sent a frigid chill down Harry's spine). 

At the call of her name, Harry's hand inches away from grazing her arm, (Y/N) spun around, hand to her neck with a squeaking scream clogging her throat. Realization came a moment later, her widened eyes and startled stature melting away when she took him in. 

"Jeez, Harry, you scared me," she breathed out. 

"Sorry," he told her, hand dropping back to her side, "I didn't want y'to leave without me."

"That's right, oh my god," she bubbled off, replacing her headphones back into the pod carrier, "I almost completely forgot you're walking with me. I'm sorry, tonight's been a really long night."

"'S okay," he said, stepping that much closer to her over the cracked concrete. "At least y'didn't get too far before I caught you." 

"Yeah," she smiled at him, nudging her shoulder to keep the straps of her bag up, "Thank you again. Even though I almost forgot, it means a lot." 

Harry only nodded his head, that odd feeling of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth returning at her words. It wasn't something he'd experienced in a long while, but (Y/N) seemed to be the only one that could pull it from him. 

Falling into step beside her as they started on the couple block walk to her home, he saw as she flexed her fingers as her sides, her phone being discarded to float in her bag instead of in her grasp. "Are your hands okay?" 

Flexing her hands out in front of her, (Y/N)'s joints were visibly stiff with spots of flour decorating the hem of her sleeves. "Yeah, they're not too bad, actually. I've definitely had worse." She ran the pad of her thumb over the meaty part of the other. "I'm really only sore right here, but I'll be fine." 

Her voice was like a melody over the sounds of the night. Rain showers had cleansed the town earlier in the night, leaving their footsteps to be complimented by the stick of raindrops clinging to the rubber soles of their shoes. Leaves rustled around them as drops slid down the surface, arcing down every leaf until joining a puddle created on the concrete around them. Everything smelled wet and fresh; clear. (Y/N)'s refreshing presence fit in perfectly. 

"'M happy you're alright," he said, his own hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Peering at her at his side, he saw her looking to the sky. He slowed his steps to not leave her behind. "Am I allowed to know what y'made today?" 

"Of course," she laughed, looking at him with the same kind of wonder she was giving to the starry sky, "I prepped a lot of shortbread tonight, so Sabrina can make them into tulips later, and even more croissants. I did a few other little things for the bread case but I think the croissants got me the worst today." 

"Yeah? Why do you think that?" 

"It's all the layers," she started, leading him in taking a left out of the main town, "It's a lot of rolling it out and making sure I get it all done before the butter starts melting in between. I've gotten a lot better at the timing since I've started, but it's still a lot to work on all at once." 

"I didn't know that. 'M sorry." He now suddenly felt bad for enjoying any of her treats. He didn't like the idea of her hurting just for a sweet to start his morning. 

"Don't be sorry, it's okay. Someone has to do it," she chirped out, mimicking the birds that were beginning to wake up around them, "How was your night, though? Did you just get off?" 

Harry shrugged. He didn't really feel like telling her he'd been waiting for over an hour outside the bakery for her. "I got off a little earlier, but yeah. It was an easy night, jus' boring. Longer than I thought it would be." 

Her bag bounced against her hip as they walked, her eyes like the starlight when she looked at him. "Unpack anything fun?" 

Dropping his head, he brushed his knuckle against the tip of his nose to conceal the small twitch on the corner of his mouth. He knew what she was getting at. "I mean, I did unpack some cookies tonight." 

(Y/N) had them cross the street before turning into a suburban area, full of small houses. It was like a gingerbread house community Harry thought, everything similar but distinctly different with the way every inhabitant decorated the outside. 

"What kind of cookies?" 

He had to look the other way this time to keep her from seeing that smile. He didn't know why, but he wasn't sure if he wanted her to see him like that; as if she would call him out, like even she would know he wasn't supposed to be happy like that. 

With a shrug and his composure in place, Harry told her with a flat tease, "This raspberry kind with white chocolate, I think? And one of the other guys unpacked some fancy cheeses, too. At least I heard anyway." 

She was silent beside him for a moment. "I can't tell if you're making fun of me, or if you really forgot that those are two of my favorite things right now." 

"Are they?" 

That had a peal of laughter falling from (Y/N)'s lips. She drifted close enough then to bump his hip with her own, looking up at him with faux offense. "You think you're so funny, don't you?" 

Looking at his feet, the puddles he disrupted with his steps and the clinging wetness that filled the cracks in the pavement. Peering at her from the corner of his eye, he spotted her still looking at him, a smile crumbling her facade. 

"A little." 

(Y/N) only laughed and shook her head, bumping his hip once more. She mumbled something under her breath about how of course he did. 

Straying from her path, (Y/N) bumped Harry's hip once more, her bag pressing into his side. His steps never faltered, eyes forward and a twitch in his lips. He forgot what it was like to be teased and have fun with someone. 

The silence that fell between them was filled with the clear, dewy slick of the rain under their feet. The gingerbread neighbourhood he'd seen down the street was now around them in their cookie cutter shapes and frosting decor. Short white picket fences outlined the perimeters of the small front yards, the houses stacked side by side behind. 

(Y/N) stopped in front of a row of three units. A set of pastel colored curtains in the window of the one bookending the building gave away exactly who lived there. A dull cream paint was brushed over the panels with a muted blue trim and front door. It was a complete replica of every other townhouse on the block. 

The personal touches came in the form of a sunshine yellow bird house hung on her small porch, leaves and twigs poking out of the front hole. A welcome mat was placed in front of her door, the pattern one of daisies and strawberries though the colors had now been muddied and dull from every time a pair of feet wiped themselves off on the fibers. Around the side was a window with a flowerbed hung underneath. Instead of blooms and bright petals, Harry spotted brown leaves and wilted stems. She tried her best to keep those plants alive, he was sure. 

"This is mine," she said, looking up at him with starry eyes. For the first time since he picked her up, he saw those lines of fatigue around her irises, exhaustion tugging at her features. 

"I'll see you soon, then?" he asked. He didn't mean to sound so abrupt, but he wanted her to get some rest. As much as a part of him wanted her to linger outside with him, to spend some of these usually lonely hours with him, it wasn't fair to keep her from sleeping. She wasn't like him. 

Nonetheless, a soft smile touched her chapped lips. "Definitely." 

Despite the pause that would allow her to head inside and end her night, (Y/N) lingered for a beat longer. Reaching a hand up to press those stray baby hairs out of her eyes, she looked at him through the fan of her lashes. 

"Harry?" 

He swallowed. "Hm?" 

She looked sheepish in that moment, struggling to meet his eyes with a shy smile on her lips. "You can tell me if this is too much, but I was wondering if I could have your number, maybe?" 

Harry's voice stuck in his throat when he processed what she said. His hand clenched in his pocket, his phone suddenly heavy in his back pocket. 

A nervous hand pushed back hair that wasn't in her face when the silence stretched on a little too long for comfort. "I don't know, I'm sorry, I just think it might be nice to know when I'll see you again, instead of just waiting? And, I'm really bad at remembering to tell you about the things I see that make me think of you or things I think you'd like and all, so it would be cool to tell you before I forget." 

Standing there in the clean air after rainfall, a dew touching his skin with birds beginning to sing around him, Harry felt frozen. His heartbeat didn't quicken, his blood didn't rush, his hands didn't shake. He had been plunged into ice, stopping him in his spot with a breath of air stuck in his lungs. 

(Y/N) wasn't supposed to ask him that. She wasn't supposed to want to see him, to find things in the world that made her think of him—she wasn't supposed to think of him at all, really. How did he get here? 

How had he tricked her into seeing anything more than a standoffish man who didn't need anyone but himself? Even with these stolen moments together, he couldn't imagine he would enter her mind in the same way she had been able to do to him. 

A shuttering blink had Harry's eyes clearing by the time he opened them to find her still standing there. In a millisecond, words tumbled out of his throat, his hand fumbling for his back pocket. "Y-Yeah, of course." 

In clumsy fingers, he held his phone out towards her. The device had a hairline crack along the side of the screen, a case that had seen more wear-and-tear he figured most people would allow, and a generic Lock Screen. He didn't bother opening it up and taking her to the needed app. There was no security to get through on there, nothing for him to hide in his squeaky-clean existence. 

"Thank you," she said, looking up at him with a shy smile on her lips. She was bashful under his gaze, gingerly taking his phone and swiping through the screens and tapping on what she needed, a short tremor touching at her fingers. "Is it okay if I text myself from your phone so I have your number too?" 

Swallowing, Harry nodded his head, stuffing his hands back into his pockets before he had a chance to pluck at his cuticles again. "Maybe—um—y'can let me know the next time y'have a shift like this, and I can walk y'home again. Maybe." 

A breathy laugh fell from her lips at his stumbling words, her gaze flicking from the phone to him. "Definitely, I'll let you know. I don't get scheduled for these often anymore, but you'll be the first to know if that changes." 

Harry couldn't remember the last time his body reacted this way—the frozen limbs, the waking heart, the stunted lungs. Definitely never under such sweet circumstances, he knew that. 

Though he felt like he could have been standing there long enough to see the sunrise then set again, it only took a moment for the text she sent to herself to go through. She took her own phone out then, surely looking at the text and saying Harry's number for herself. There was something especially bright in her gaze when she looked up at him to return his own device, her phone being wrung between both of her hands.

"I'll see you again soon, then?" she asked, toeing at the ground. She didn't attempt to fix the sliding strap of her bag. 

"Yeah," he sounded in the quiet of the slow morning, a nod of his head. 

He expected her to then spin on her heel and head inside, a goodbye said over her shoulder before he would trace his path back alone. Instead, (Y/N) lingered, her hands growing busier on her phone, playing with the corners of her phone case. That nervous pinch in her brows returned. 

"C-Can I hug you?" she asked, voice almost as small as the dew drops on the grass of her yard, "It's okay if you're not a hugger or anything, though, I just thought I'd ask 'cause..." 

She trailed off before any real explanation could be given, a sheepish shrug in its place. 

If he thought he had been plunged into ice water before, Harry swore he was frozen under the throes of an avalanche now. 

"No—um—y'can. 'M okay with it." His voice felt thick in his throat, smearing over his tongue before falling out for her to taste too. 

(Y/N) brightened like he had given her something sweet, a treat she couldn't have made herself. 

Harry couldn't remember the lead up or any of the details before she had folded her arms around him. She had reached up, looping her arms around his neck while Harry's settled around her middle. His hands spanned the planes of her back, ducking down with his nose touching the crown of her head, ruffled strands of hair tickling him. 

From the outside, there was nothing special. She didn't squeeze him particularly hard or press her whole body to his, she didn't spill any secrets into the column of his neck. But, this had to be one of the most profound moments in Harry's recent life. 

The last time someone hugged him, he had to have been a teenager. He'd forgotten what it felt like to feel that kind of gentle touch. 

She didn't linger for too long, drawing away after she had cradled him for long enough. The absence of her form left a ghost of heat on Harry's body. He almost wanted to clutch at it like it was really her. He'd settle for the warmth of her gaze. 

"Thank you for walking me home and everything, Harry." Her smile grew as she spoke. "It made my night." 

He could have crumbled then. Whatever was happening to his body and his brain, he wasn't sure. It felt good, though. 

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he murmured as she took her slow steps back to her front door. His hand tightly clutched his phone in his pocket. "I-I'll text y'when I get home?" 

It was like the sunrise occurred right in front of him the way she perked up. "Yes, please! I might be asleep, but I want to make sure you made it home okay." That bubbly smile was tacked onto her lips as she absently fiddled with the doorknob. "Goodnight." 

Harry stayed on the concrete until she was safely inside, a wave being thrown over her shoulder to him before the door was sealed shut behind her. It was then when he was alone that he allowed a smile to break out over his features. 

Though only the ground under his feet saw it, the smile was for (Y/N), only.

His phone was warm in his palm when he pulled it out, something he was willing to convince himself was still from (Y/N). Sliding open the lock screen, the message thread she had started was still up. 

Up top, her name was punctuated with a lotus flower and a croissant. The one message she sent to herself was a heart emoji. Though he hadn't been the one to press send, seeing the text in the blue bubble on his side the screen, made his heart tick. It was easy to pretend he was the one that sent it in the first place. 

The whole walk back to his care he couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

—————

hyssop represents purification and hope; letting go of the past and allowing a better future

eepppp! super excited to show you some different parts of rosemary h! patreon is now a little more than halfway through the story now, so if you cant wait you can def sign up there and get to know more of their story! thank you soooooo much for reading and following along! so sorry if theres any mistakes but please let me know if you have any fun ideas or requests or predictions!

[copperbadge]

It's pesto time. Grew this all myself in my window garden.

I thought I didn't like basil or pesto because I'd only had pesto with pine nuts in; turns out I love basil, I just hate pine nuts. I make pesto with this *gestures* amount of basil, half a cup of roasted cashews, half a cup of parmesan, four cloves of roasted garlic, and roughly 1/3 cup good olive oil. Whirr up everything but the olive oil in a food processor, then drizzle the oil in until it's the desired consistency.

It's a little less smooth than normal pesto, it's got some texture to it, but I love it on pizza, mixed with butter for "garlic" bread, or added to the yolk mixture for deviled eggs.

[ID: The hood of my stove, an elderly metal awning with several large plastic clips attached to it by magnets; each clip is facing downwards and holds a large stalk of basil (two different kinds!) I've been growing in my window garden. There's a lot of basil.]

[toxicanonymity]

Aisle 39. Ben's Hardware

5250 words / Ben Solo x Rey

Warnings: I8+ mdni. Sexual tension, dubcon (via uninformed use of force connection but she wants it), dry humping. I 🖤 Dry Humping. Hardware Store AU but more than meets the eye.

A/N: posting my first fic in any fandom since I never posted it on Tumblr aside from the AO3 link and Tumblr is home now 🖤. I'm resisting the urge to improve it 😅 I'm not even gonna reread before posting. It was originally reader insert but @dark-scape translated to reylo. Lmk if you want the reader insert version instead and that can be arranged.

Rey visually undresses him.  He inhales through his strong nose, meets her gaze, and cocks an eyebrow: “Now that’s an idea."   He sinks all the way back into the cushions, his huge palms on his thighs, as if to take in the moment with a subtle, satisfied smile.  He then abruptly sits back up and starts unbuttoning his shirt.  As if on command.

Rey drives through the streets of Jakku. It's a chilly day, but bright for mid December. The sun is in her eyes, but the drive isn't long enough to commit to finding her sunglasses. As she turns into a parking lot, she sees the cafe next door is open and realizes it will be the perfect day to grab her favorite nutmeg butternut squash soup with their signature green tea bread if she can make it out of the hardware store before the lunch rush really picks up. This is a rare opportunity because the cafe's hours are aligned to typical office job hours when she’s normally across town.

Rumor has it the hardware store is locally-owned now, and she wonders how much it’s changed. She's taken a vacation day to finish some holiday shopping and errands, and thought of an easy home improvement project last night to spruce up Finn and Poe’s house while she housesits and takes care of their cat Bebe. She wants to fix the dimmer for the light above their kitchen table. The knob has been missing for awhile now, and even when you twist the naked peg, the lights don't dim, so she assumes the bulbs aren’t the right kind. She figures she can fix this with a new plastic knob, a 4-pack of dimmable LED lights, and five minutes of labor. She can finish it off with a little red bow on the new dial. This will be a nice surprise and will also give her an excuse to procrastinate her other errands.

Turns out, not much has changed. She clip-clops through the sliding doors in her warmest boots and still sees orange aprons with names hand-written in sharpie. She immediately locates the light bulbs and spends a few minutes longer than necessary deciding which pack to get. She looks at her phone and sees she has about ten minutes until the lunch rush, so it's time to find the other item she needs, the knob.

She looks up and sees a worker. He's wearing a dark gray jacket over his apron, and what looks like a lighter gray hoodie under it. It isn’t that cold in here, she thinks . She almost leaves him alone, but something on his apron catches her eye. She can't see the name, but barely sees the edge of an expertly doodled death star. Bold choice.  

He's got a nice head of dark hair, chin length, tapered around his face, but out of the way enough to see his eyes are brown. He runs his hand through his hair over the top of his crown as though slicking it back, then some of the strands fall back down. His face is a mix of heart and square shaped with a masculine jaw and strong nose. He has the stubble of a mustache and soul patch but no beard.

He has beauty marks, so many. How many? Are they just on his face or all over? He has an enviously clear complexion and looks like he tans easily. He's kind of tall, but not looming, maybe because his head is bowed slightly as he lifts a crate of lightbulb boxes and begins to unpack it. He seems athletic, hard to tell with what he's wearing. He has a youthful vibe but isn't exactly boyish.

He carries himself like he knows more or less what he's doing, but doesn't take the job too seriously. Rey imagines he wouldn't be the best candidate to tell her how to do a project, but he must know the aisles at least. She doesn't like to be a bother, but hopes it's an easy enough question, and he's standing right there. He can tell she’s about to ask him something and looks up. The whites of his eyes are clear and sparkly. Rey wonders if hers would be like that if she blinked more, which leads to her unintentionally fluttering her lashes.

She finally says, close to a whisper, “Can I ask you something?” I asked… if I can ask him something. She groans inwardly.

She isn’t prepared for the gentle baritone voice he responds with, "Yeah. Sure."

"Uh, where can I find the light switches and dimmers?"

"AISLE 39. I think. Here, I'll show you." He sounds about twice as old as he looks. Those few words he speaks are enough to flip a switch in Rey.  Her heart is melting at the same time her mind is racing. She can't tell for sure because he’s so bundled up, but she imagines he has strong arms and is in great shape based on the vascularity of his hands as he holds his barcode reader. He's working in the middle of the school day so he's got to be at least 18, not that he looks any younger, but Rey tends to think in worst case scenarios. Realistically, she would peg him for mid-twenties, but his voice sounds at least two decades older.

He walks her to aisle 39 and stops. She thanks him for his help, and as she turns to walk in the direction he pointed, she realizes she’s slightly blushing and she’s been silent. She doesn't want her shyness to come off as cold, so she makes eye contact and lets a little smile sprout from the left corner of her mouth across her lips, small but beaming. She hopes it doesn't come off as a smirk or make him self conscious. She can't tell whether he's the self conscious type.

She figures she can find the item herself from here, and doesn't think to ask him about the specific product. She wanders nearly all the way down the aisle, but after several minutes of searching (albeit distractedly), Rey is relieved to see him come back with another customer. He's helping a man find a specific thing, not a whole aisle. She’s jealous, even though it was her own fault not to ask. She hopes he sticks around and asks her if she found everything okay, but when he's done with the other customer it seems like he's about to leave.

She quickly approaches him. “Can I- can I ask for your help again?” Asking to ask again. Do I always sound this ridiculous? She tells him about the dimmer she’s looking for, which is apparently called a rotary switch.

To her surprise and delight, he talks far more than he needs to about rotary switches. His dark velvet voice is lulling Rey half into a fantasy while she struggles to continue listening to his words. He repeats almost every word she says back to him coolly and casually. And these aren't complicated concepts. She isn’t sure if he's practicing an active listening technique from sales training or is simply aware of his effect on women. Or his effect on her. She stands inches from him and looks into his eyes. She wonders to what extent her white cheeks have bloomed into roses under her freckles and given her away.

"You need a dimmer?" He looks her in the eyes, but she’s transfixed on every flex of his jaw and twitch of his lip as he talks.

"Yes, but just the knob, not the whole thing,” she says.

He nods thoughtfully then confirms, "So you just need the plastic part?"

“Right, there’s still a stick you can use to turn it, but it’s naked,” Rey confirms. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket to show him what kind of set-up the panel has and what part she needs.

"So on the panel there's an up-down switch, and a rotary dimmer."

“Yeah." She shows him the knob on the store's app and says, "I think the dimmer part is in stock.”

He replies "Oh, it says aisle 2?" He looks in that direction like he’s trying to remember what’s in aisle 2. He must be new.

"No, we’re in the right aisle. It's wrong on the preview page, but if you click into it you can see," she explains.

"Oh, ok. This is what you need though?" He locks eyes with Rey.

Just like that, she’s imagining him taking off his apron and hoodie at the end of the day, revealing meaty biceps that want to burst out of a black, soft washed t-shirt. Running his large hand through his hair. Flexing those beautiful arms as he peels off the shirt. A smooth torso with hard pecs, scant chest hair. At the thought of this, the left half of her bottom lip starts to creep under her left front teeth, and he cracks a smile for the first time, from the right side of his mouth, almost like a mirror image to Rey’s. His teeth are pretty but unassuming. They're close to white and not overly straight.

Her cheeks grow warmer and she looks away, responding to his question with a slight nod, which she hopes doesn’t read as hesitant, before resuming eye contact. “Yeah,” she quietly confirms.

"But you don't need the regular switch, right?" He speaks with a relaxed beat, not rushing the conversation to its end.

"Uh-huh."

He's speaking low and soft and looks back and forth between Rey’s eyes, not at the screen they’re both supposedly studying. "You just need the dimmer."

"Yeah." She feels like this is being drawn out to the point of overkill, but she’s not complaining.

"And you only need the plastic part." Every time he speaks is like music.

"Yeah," she confirms, barely audible, with a smile.

He continues to search her eyes and she repeats, "Yeah."

For a brief moment, he seems to gaze at Rey as lustily as she knows she is looking at him before he gathers his thoughts. She feels self conscious and suspects by the amount that he’s talking he must know the spellbinding effect his voice has on her. But if that's the case, she supposes there’s no harm that could come from him knowing it.

"Okay, let’s go over here," he says as he leads her back to where she started at the front of the aisle. "I think I see it.” He crouches down to get something from the bottom shelf.

"That’s it!" Rey says with a grin.

She feels bad for not crouching down with him. She’s always self conscious of making people do too much work, but then she also doesn’t want to make it awkward by taking over. So it's not that she expects him to serve her, she’s just frozen. He starts to pull the small product off the metal rods. It's the exact one she’d shown him on her phone, but she notices a better color next to it. Rey squats down and as she looks at the package to the right of the one he's holding, he almost looks disappointed that he didn't pick the exact unit she needed.

She says, "This one is even better, it'll match the old yellowed white." As she slides the package toward her, her right thumb almost imperceptibly brushes his left hand which is still holding the other package. She hasn’t even thought about his package yet, but the lightest brush of his skin is enough to short Rey’s circuits. She gets nervous and stands up, thanks him twice with a genuine smile and that's all she can do.

"No problem," he says, and that's all. As Rey watches him walk away, she feels an odd desperation to hear his voice again. She thinks about making up another question and recording him with an app. Is that creepy? It’s a little creepy, but not full-blown creepy, right? It isn't an option to never hear his voice again. She briefly glances around and he's nowhere in sight. She gets a hold of herself and makes her way to the self checkout line and pays.

Scanning the parking lot as she leaves, Rey wonders which car is his. When she gets to her car, she realizes she doesn’t have her keys. She sheepishly walks back inside and grabs her keys and receipt from the self-checkout terminal she just used. She looks at the receipt - “Ben’s Hardware”. So it did change ownership. She feels someone watching her from the aisle straight ahead, but tries to play it cool. She smiles and shakes her head in disbelief as she turns around and leaves, heart pounding.

Rey forgets all about the soup she was going to get and drives on autopilot to the house to install the dimmer and bulbs. What was that back there? When did I become so shy? It’s been a long time since she’s felt a visceral longing for someone, too. She can feel the animal inside of her awakening from a years-long slumber. She isn’t worried about it, she welcomes it. It’s tame. She has the maturity and experience to stay in control.

She pulls into the broken driveway and parks under the carport. Bebe runs to greet her and Rey bends down to pet her when she opens the car door. This should be an easy but impactful little project. She enters the kitchen, and takes the rotary dial out, dismissing a ridiculous passing thought that she should have bought the white one, too, because he touched it.  She tears the packaging open and holds the off-white plastic rotary dial in her hand, smiling as she remembers all the ways he described it.  

She raises the cream plastic dial to the light switch panel and glances at its underside, confirming it’s compatible.  The unsheathed rotary peg juts out from the panel in anticipation. She holds the dial by its outer edge, aligning its hole with the peg, and gently eases the peg inside.  The dial slides all the way on and snaps into place. It sticks out a little far from the wall, but it works.  Then she unscrews the light bulbs in the cheap chandelier one by one and replaces them with the dimmable ones she bought. 

Finally, the moment of truth - she presses the rotary dial, which turns on the lights, but when she rotates the dimmer, it dims nothing. The dimmer wiring itself might not be LED compatible. Of course. It looks like she’ll have to go back to the store, but not today. She does her shopping and begrudgingly runs errands, and finishes off her day with a warm cup of rooibos.

When she gets in bed, her mind drifts back to Him. She’s dying to hear his voice again. He was so calm, aloof, but somehow radiating power. She interprets it as sexual energy, but she wonders if she’s just seeing what she wants to see. To keep his voice in her mind, she imagines him narrating, “So. This is your bed… we’re going to use an extra blanket tonight, because it’s cold.” She feels ridiculous. But when she drifts off to sleep, there he is.

*** 

Rey is in a living room, but not hers.  It’s a subtle mid-century style with huge windows and modern touches.  It’s dimly lit with a fire roaring behind a glass.  He’s slouched on a stool at a wet bar, drinking something on the rocks.  He’s wearing black slacks, a form-fitting charcoal button-up shirt, untucked, with the cuffs unbuttoned.  He has one foot on a rung of the stool and another with its heel on the ground as he looks at his glass. 

He looks at Rey and puts down the glass.  “Drink?” he asks, standing up to go around the other side of the bar.  Rey watches him.  “Whisky? Wine? Water?” he asks, while filling a glass of water.   “I’m fine,” she replies.  He puts the glass of water down on the smooth granite in front of a second stool that’s still tucked under the bar.  As he walks out from behind the bar, he lets his fingers graze the leather seat of the closest stool.  Rey notices he’s shoeless, wearing black and gray argyle socks.  Why is he so quiet? 

Right on cue, he says, “Well, you’re here.  What do you want to do?” It’s so vivid.  Rey is frozen and says nothing.  Her heartbeat quickens.  He paces patiently.  There’s a teal sectional facing the fireplace.  The living room has soft carpet that feels new under her bare feet.  He walks across the living room, crossing into It a breakfast nook with an oak table.  Behind the kitchen table, he reaches for the wall and lightly touches a conspicuously cheap looking dial that dims the room further.   He comes back toward Rey, and pauses between the breakfast nook and living room. There’s a cabinet separating the spaces, about the same height as the kitchen table.  It has a record player and a box of records sitting on top of it.  

He approaches the record cabinet, which is about hip height to him.  He’s facing Rey, with the cabinet and the entire living room in between them.  With a casual stretch of one leg, he spreads his feet to lower himself a little and look at the records. He rolls up his sleeves, glancing up at her with his tan forearms flexing.  He thumbs through the vinyl records, which appear to have no words on the covers.  He has his head down, his hair has fallen slightly in his face, and he’s glancing up at Rey every few seconds as he thumbs through the box. 

He starts reading out the names of records, and her butterflies intensify at the low rumble of his voice. “Led Zeppelin III,” “Some Girls,” “Get Behind Me Satan,” “Ocean’s 11,” “Travis” “John Wick 2”  The foliage outside rustles gently against the window.  The next time he looks up at her, he doesn't look back down.  It’s an expectant gaze as though to see if the sound of his voice was effective.  She squirms a little and blushes.  He holds her gaze, squints slightly, and smiles a little.  He’s finished going through the records.  He doesn’t put anything on the record player, but a song she likes starts playing anyway.  Think, by Kaleida.  

He gives Rey a mischievous, inquisitive look, and runs his hand through his hair as he walks over to the sectional. He takes a seat and hinges forward at the hip, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together.  She admires the shape of his forearms.  He raises his clasped hands upright and sets his chin on them playfully, his biceps straining his sleeves as he meets her eyes.  He says, “Well, here we are at my place,” which she doubts.  Rey doesn’t know what she expects his place is like in reality, but it isn’t this refined.  He chuckles, removing his elbows from his knees and resuming a more grown-up posture. With arched brows and an otherwise straight face, he says, “Really.” His brows relax again.  “What do you feel like doing?”  His voice floods every inch of her body with a yearning to be touched.  

She doesn’t know how to answer him.  She doesn’t know how she got there or what’s going on, but the combination of his voice, eye contact, and arms are enough for Rey to begin visually undressing him.  He inhales through his strong nose, meets her gaze, and cocks an eyebrow: “Now that’s an idea."   He sinks all the way back into the cushions, his palms on his thighs, as if to take in the moment with a subtle, satisfied smile.  He then abruptly sits back up and starts unbuttoning his shirt.  As if on command. . . Holy shit, Rey thinks.  She realizes this is a dream. She’s lucid.  It’s like a 5-d game where she can feel everything.    In theory, she can do whatever she wants.  What she really wants at this moment is to straddle him.   

He glances down between his legs and coolly says, “sit anywhere you want.”  She feels observed, even though he isn’t real.  She walks over to the sectional and perches next to him on the edge of its velvet cushion. She feel herself getting wet.  She’s wearing a gray stretch miniskirt–something she wouldn’t have picked out for herself–black leggings, and a green cardigan with no undershirt.  He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and discards it on the floor.  She sees exactly what she’d pictured earlier - a strong physique, his lightly bronzed arms straining against a soft washed t-shirt.  “What’s your name,” he asks, and she feel a warmth growing between her legs.     She tells him, “Rey.”  “Rey,” he repeats, and she fruitlessly responds, “What’s yours?” 

He sighs and gazes around wistfully, “Her name is Rey.”  Then his eyes are back on her.  He places a large hand softly on her knee.  Electrified, she reciprocates.   It’s not real, she reminds herself.  She can do anything.  The guy from the store will never know.  She dares to run her hand a few inches up his quad and give his muscle a light squeeze.  He exhales with the slightest little groan,  “yeah,” and moves his hand to the small of back to urge her closer.  She’s sitting next to him but facing him now, left leg folded under her, working her right hand up his quad. 

The expanse of his thigh dwarfs her pale fingers on his black pants as she leans forward and lets her heel nestle between her legs to relieve some tension.  A tsunami of tingling deep inside her spreads through her breasts.  She grips his thigh for support, and lifts herself just barely,  intending to bring the inner crook of one knee up over his closest leg in a cuddly way while remaining seated on the couch.  A tent in his pants catches her eye and her skin starts to burn with urgency.  If she moves too quickly, she wonders if she could startle herself awake.  

As Rey raises her leg, he brings his far hand to it, gently coaxing her to move all the way onto his lap.  Her skirt rides up over her ass as she follows his lead.  He seizes one buttock in each hand, gives them a gentle squeeze, and takes a deep breath.  She is overcome with arousal and takes her own deep breath, shuddering and blinking slowly as she exhales. Her legs are now spread wide open straddling his lap, but she’s hovering and hasn’t put her weight on him yet.  Her head is a little higher than his in this position.  He bows his head and nuzzles his nose into her cardigan between her breasts, closing his eyes and taking in her scent.  

Rey’s modest chest is heaving against his face and he cradles her with both arms as she breathes.  She places her hands gently on his shoulders, and slowly moves them inward to fondle the hair at the nape of his neck.  She twirls a lock around her finger contemplatively, but she’s still hovering.  His arms are under hers with his face still in her sweater.  He drags his nose up to her neck and she feels her cardigan unbutton, exposing a lace bra, which is fastened in the front.  He looks up at her and reiterates in an intimate whisper, “you can sit anywhere you want.”  

Rey could tell from his breathing what would await her in his lap.  Her leggings were already soaked.  One by one, she scooted her knees closer to the back of the couch on either side of his expansive torso and let her weight down.  She is now truly straddling him, her inner thighs and the intimate seam of her warm, moist leggings fully embracing his arousal.  Her wetness spread through her leggings and into his pants.  His lumber swells against her, pulsing into her aching nub.  “Yeah,” he breathes.  “Right here.” She leans forward to feel his full length, which spans from her privates to her belly button as he thrusts against her. 

Over the course of a few blissful seconds, she feels his erection press harder against her, slide upward, then come back down, and repeat.  His mouth finds her neck, then her mouth.  She accept his lips hungrily and grinds back in rhythm.  Her lips pull away as pleasure shoots through her gut and breasts.  She leans her head back and gasps.  He moves his way back down to her heart, nuzzling his nose along her neck then planting a kiss on her collar bone, another kiss on her breast.   

Then his teeth lightly pinch her skin as they find the front of her bra.  He looks up at her as the clasp flies open and her breasts are free.  Her hard nipples are framed loosely by her dangling bra and the top half of her cardigan which is still buttoned, only at the bottom.  She’s still wearing leggings, but his cock feels too good to leave it for even one moment to undress further.  She continues to slowly grind against him as he moves one hand to her breast, keeping the other behind her for support.  He palms one breast, lightly at first, grazing her nipple with the heel of his palm, then softly cups the whole breast, enveloping it in his large hand as he continues to slowly thrust into her warmth  He uses his free hand to bring her close enough to kiss her other breast. 

Rey is burning up now.  He undoes the last two buttons of her cardigan and she lets it fall off her shoulders, discarding her bra at the same time.  She reaches down to the hem of his shirt and slides four curled fingers underneath it.  He helps her take it off, and she takes in the sight of his shredded torso.  His right pec has a scar.  She traces it with her thumb.  His pecs are so hard.  As she explores him, they continue grinding, then he gives a more emphatic thrust, like his cock cannot physically get close enough to her.  She reaches between their loins and strokes his arousal through his pants, tracing the outline of his cock in detail.  His pants are damp and shiny from her leggings and with a wetter spot of his own.  

Rey needs him badly.  He isn’t wearing a belt.  She frantically searches for his button and zipper and carefully frees him. She holds, and beholds, the glorious, veiny shaft that lands in her hand.  She savors the feeling of its soft skin as it throbs in her hand.  “You. . . are a vision,” he murmurs into her chest, which is exactly what she was thinking about his package.  She moves her thumb to the head of his cock, collects a bead of precum, and swirls around the head affectionately.  Her brows furrow with want.   He holds her tighter, closing the gap between them.  He begins thrusting again, hard and slow.  Rey grinds her throbbing warmth against his lower shaft while her hand is still in between them.  

She feels the spine of her groin twitching and knows she’s close.  She takes a deep breath and lets a sharper pleasure overtake her chest and groin.  Her breath quickens as she nears her peak.  She still has her leggings on. He reaches his broad hands into the back of her leggings, taking one buttcheek in each hand and moves her up and down against him.  “I need you,” he breathes. They look into each other’s eyes and there’s something wild in his pupils, something dark, like a warm, black hole, drawing her in.  “Take me,” she says.  He reaches a hand behind her neck to cradle her head, and they gaze at each other, breathing, grinding.  Then he pulls her face decisively to his.  

Rey inhales through her nose as their lips meet hungrily. He kisses her hard, too messily to  seal their mouths together, leaving his lower lip between her lips as he draws in a deep breath through his mouth.   He then closes his lips on her upper lip, his teeth and tongue slightly grazing it.  Half his mouth opens into hers, the other halves of their mouths still breathing heavily. 

He shifts her slightly upward, wraps her around his waist, and she feels the head of his rock hard cock aggressively nuzzling her clit, up and down.  His tongue finds hers and she lets it brush against her teeth.  When she pulls away for a moment, he looks her in the eyes. They’re both moving faster now, and  as they’re about to come, she folds herself into him, sliding her lips down his chin to his neck and opening her mouth, breathing against his skin. 

His thumb finds her most sensitive place and one touch sends her over the edge.  The pleasure is almost too much to bear.  Her ass clenches as ecstacy blooms from her groin, her nipples, her ears, and deep within her gut.  Muscles she didn’t even know she had shudder in release, and he wraps his arms tight around her, thrusting to the beat of her orgasm.  She rides wave after wave, pulsating against his cock, and as another wave swells he groans, and she feels his cock begin its own contractions, intensifying hers.  

Rey’s mouth is open against his neck and she’s breathing into his skin and as he unleashes a huge lode of cum, between them, soaking through her leggings, and gluing their clothes together.  Her canines dig harmlessly into the side of his neck – she can’t resist –  then she brings her lips to the flesh and seals it with a kiss.   She collapses into him, loosely hugging him with her legs, and the two of them just breathe.  Then he tightens his arms around her in a hug, and she looks up. She sees the mark of her teeth on his neck, and remembers no one else will see it.  This isn’t real.  

She nuzzles her head into her mark and blinks her eyelashes against his skin.   He sighs slowly through his nose, then she feel the vibrations of his voice against her face as he says, “You are… remarkable.”  She lies there breathing for a few minutes and he wraps them both in a cream, cable-knit throw.  She falls asleep in his arms and wakes up in her own bed, marveling at how a dream can make one feel like they’ve experienced someone so intimately.  She hadn’t had a lucid dream in years.  She absently scratches an itch between her breasts and wonders how she can be sure to dream of him again tonight.  Was it the rooibos, or the sheer will of her want?

[taskmastercaps]

[ID: Five screencaps from Taskmaster, of each contestant and a table covered with items. The items’ names float in large text on the screen. Frankie Boyle’s items are Plant, Picks, Paper, Plastic, and Plasticine. Kiell Smith-Bynoe’s items are Ball (Golf), Balloon, Bacon, Basket, and Blue Hat. Jenny Eclair’s are Bread, Bucket, Bungees, Bras, and Brown Paper. Ivo Graham’s are Balls (Ping Pong), Blu Tack, Book, Banana, and Balloons. Mae Martin’s are Precious Tape, Polystyrene, Paper, Paper Clip, and Plastic Inflatable Water Wings. End ID.]

[eretzyisrael]

by Troy O. Fritzhand

The hostages released by Hamas over the past four days as part of a temporary ceasefire with Israel suffered severe weight loss during their captivity in Gaza, according to preliminary health reports.

Israel’s Health Ministry found that initial assessments showed the hostages, seized by Hamas during the Palestinian terror group’s Oct. 7 massacre across southern Israel, lost an average of 17-33 pounds in seven weeks, Hebrew media outlets reported.

News of the initial assessments came as the first testimonies from the released captives and their families revealed the hostages’ diet was minimal, consisting mainly of bread, rice, and in some cases canned food.

The weight loss was especially striking given that many of the hostages who were released and received medical assessments — all women and children — were little kids, including toddlers, and the elderly in their 70s and 80s.

One of the hostages, 84-year-old Elma Avraham, has been hospitalized in serious condition since her release on Sunday. The hospital said on Tuesday that her condition had improved.

The now-former captives have reported that alongside the poor diet and lack of medication, some were forced to sleep on plastic chairs in small rooms guarded by heavily-armed terrorists. Child hostages were also subjected to threats and psychological abuse, according to relatives. In one case, a 12-year-old boy was beaten by Palestinian civilians, his aunt said.

Palestinian terrorists led by Hamas kidnapped over 240 people as hostages and brought them back to Gaza during their Oct. 7 onslaught, in which they murdered more than 1,200 people, mostly civilians. Israel responded with a military campaign of air strikes and ground operations seeking to destroy Hamas in Gaza, the Palestinian enclave ruled by the terror group.

Since the truce between both sides started on Friday, Hamas has released 69 hostages — 50 Israeli women and children, as well as 19 foreigners, mainly Thai farmworkers. In return, Israel has released 150 prisoners from its jails, all women and teenagers, detained for violent crimes or terrorism.

The four-day ceasefire in Gaza, initially set to expire on Monday, has been extended by at least two extra days to allow for the release of more hostages.

Israel has decried clips of Israeli hostages waving goodbye to Hamas terrorists during their release as propaganda, urging the public not to buy the forced act.

Hamas-affiliated media on Monday released a letter supposedly written by Danielle Aloni, an Israeli mom freed from captivity, praising the terrorists for their “extraordinary humanity” towards her 5-year-old daughter, Emilia. Relatives warned the public not to believe the letter, similarly dismissing it as propaganda.

While most reports have focused on the hostages’ physical health, it is unclear how captivity will impact their mental health after experiencing such trauma.

[jasperthehatchet]

🌟🌿welcome🌿🌟

🦎 My name is Hatchet! I'm an adult human who uses any/all pronouns

🌞 I'm passionate about disability rights, inclusivity, queer trans nonbinary and intersex rights, indigenous rights, environmentalism, prison abolition and restorative justice and all those wonderful things. As well as fighting against/completely dismantling racism, antisemitism (especially leftist antisemitism), dehumanization, police brutality, fascism, capitalism, colonialism, queerphobia, intersexism and oppression/bigotry of all kinds

*** Tags with resources and donation links include: #palestine, #sudan, #armenia, #congo ***

🌵 Hobbies: sewing, mending, upcycling, painting, embroidery, bookbinding, dream-journaling, thrifting, cooking, jewelry making, basket weaving, and various other punk crafts as well <3 basically I was put on this earth to Make Stuff. I'm also a collector of shinies and trinkets like dice, coins, shells, rocks, crystals, rings, keys, thimbles, bells, etc. Any shiny trinket you can think of I probably collect it (recent collections include soda tabs and occlupanids aka those plastic bread clips)

Hobbies I'm looking into starting: paper making, paint/ink making, stone/wood carving, leather working, chainmail, terrarium building, gardening and lino printing/stamp making :)

🌻 I am very active on Pinterest for art inspiration, if you'd like you can follow me here (or search @juno_monsoon)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• IMPORTANT THINGS TO NOTE •

1. I block empty blogs

2. Minors: I have no authority over you but please beware. This is not really an NSFW blog but I do reblog stuff about sex/kink positivity as well as pro-sex work things

3. You can dm me or send me asks whenever, i encourage you to reach out if you want to talk about hobbies, politics (in good faith), crafting, art, music, fandoms, or whatever! Just don't be a jackass

4. I don't respond to being tagged in chain posts or tagging games. I also really hate reblog bait and guilt-trippy posts I do not care what they're about

5. DO NOT repost ANY of my art or creations please and thank you

6. I tag critical role spoilers with #critical role, #critical role spoilers, #cr spoilers and #critrole spoilers

7. Spam liking/reblogging is perfectly fine I don't mind it at all. Go nuts

8. Things I've made/mended are tagged with #hatchet mends things and #hatchet makes stuff

[jackass-crafts]

most recent batches of earings

from left to right; skull bead, tapestry needle, chunk of a vape casing, glow in the dark star, plastic sample spoon, bread clip, glow in the dark mushroom, plastic imitation beetle wings and crystal bead, plastic star

[crunchybeansprouts]

bliss

[102723] it's been a long while since i've written anything on here, but i'm back! (even if only temporarily.) i've made countless lasting memories during my hiatus; i finished junior year, went home for the summer, had a kdrama-worthy four weeks, went into my senior year, and started the dreaded college apps. but all of these pale in comparison to the last item in the file folder of my life thus far.

i think i've found happiness. not the superficial, shallow type of happiness that is fleeting and faint like an october morning fog. but the type of happiness that is constant and effervescent like an open ocean buoy, never failing to resurface even after facing the ceaseless wrath of cold, clipped waves. yes, i still feel sometimes left out by and at odds with my "plastic flower sister" friends. yes, college apps are still sending me reeling from a fear of failure and threatening to push me over the edge and into the cesspools of imposter syndrome, overthinking, and insecurities. yes, my broken family's outwardly-perfect façade is still being chipped away, piece by piece. but even on the worst of days, i always let go of my negativity and grasp onto my buoy of happiness once again. if i could go back in time and tell sophomore-year bean about her senior year, she would be so, so proud. i used to think my high school experience would just be memories of homesickness and heartbreak, but in a strange, unpredictable way, it has lived up to the fairytale fantasies i've always had about these four defining years of my teens. despite our strained, distant relationship during my childhood, i've closed the gap and become the bestest, lifelong friends with my mom. although i used to see nothing but fake personas and selfishness within my peers, i've made a friend who is my alter ego and a (boy) friend who never fails to make me smile - and i love both of them so, so much. in this world of unfamiliarities and unknowns that used to desperately haunt me, i've managed to find a place to call home.

so this is it, isn't it? bliss. a blanket of comforting warmth like scattered rays of spring sunshine; the homey, cozy smell of freshly-baked bread wafting out of the warm kitchen; everything i've been reaching after, running towards, wanting for myself. to the people that have been there since day one, thank you.

[the-real-things-tournament]

0.5mm Pencil Lead

2002 Honda Civic

320 Pack Glitter Gel Pens

A Blunt

A Candle That Smells Like Fragrant Evergreens

A Copy of "The Book Thief" (2005) by Markus Zusak

A Daisychain

A DVD Copy of Over the Hedge (2006)

A Train

Ace of Spades Playing Card

Adderall

Adipose Plushie

Adorable Cow Creamer

Airpods

An Innumerable Amount of Lost DS Styli

Animal Shaped Rubber Bands

AP French Exam Packet

Argon (The Element)

Aviator Goggles

Baguette Body Pillow

Battery

Bead Maze

Beaded Curtain

Beanbag Chair

Bed

Beehive

Best Rock

Big Drinking Fountain

Black Out Curtains

Blanket

Blue Jeans

Blåhaj/Ikea Shark

Bread

Bright Orange VHS for the Rugrats Movie

Broken Alarm Clock

Bubble Toy

Bucket

Bur Oak Tree

Buttons (for clothes)

Can of Beans

Cast Iron Pan

Cat Collar With Bell

Chalk Boards

Cheese Grater

Chew Necklace

Chicxulub Impactor

Claw Hairclip

Clip-On Earrings

Clock

Coconut Broom

Colored Fairy Lights

Comically Oversized Lollypop

Construction Cone

Contraception

Crane Machine

Crayons

Dead Baby Possum Killed by Chihuahua (RIP)

Digivice V-pet

Dildo

Dirigible

Dirty Glass Bottle You Find In The Woods

Disinfecting Wipes

Dice

Dragon Ball Z Volume 4 (Manga Paperback)

Drinking Bird Desk Toy

Earth

Egg Slicer

Elementary School Yearbook

Empty Pizza Box

Every Basket

Every Knife

Eye Mug From a School Ceramics Sale

Fake Dictionary Lockbox

Fancy Showerhead

Fantasia 2000 VHS Tape

Fencing Mask

Ferrofluid

Finger Cymbals

Finger Cymbols

Fingerless Gloves (made of wool)

Flower Bush By The Pavement On The Street

Four Seasons Puzzle

Froggy Chair

Furby

Furby

Garden Gloves With Claws

Garlic

Gendang

Generic Paw Of A Monkey

Geode

Glow in the Dark Celing Stars

Glow Stick Liquid

"god i wish that were me" Screenshot

Golden Acorn Statue

Googly Eyes

Guitar

Half An Onion

Halloween Skeleton Decoration

Hand Mixer From The '60s

Haunted Callie Calamari Doll That Drinks All Your Pepsi and Calls You a Bitch

Heart-Shaped Glasses

Holly the Dragon Beanie Boo

Homemade Hand Sanitizer

Hurdy Gurdy

Ice Cube

Ice Maker

Japanese 5 Yen Coin

Kids Watercolor Set

Kitchen Sink

Knockoff Garfield Plush

Knäckebröd

La Croix Sparkling Water Pamplemousse

Late Night Infomercials

Lavender Scented Candle

LEGO Spring 2007 Catalog

Lightning McQueen Crocs

Lindt Gold Bunny

Lint Roller

Lip Smackers Watermelon Chapstick

LNER Peppercorn Class A1 60163 Tornado

Lobster Ornament

Loch and Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster Ladles (one solid, one with strainer holes)

Loofah

Lun-Class Ekranoplan

Mammatus Cloud

Manatea Tea Infuser

Meat Cleaver

Meat Tenderizer

Mechanical Pencil

Microscope

Microwave

Mini Cuban Flag on Plant

Mini Fan

Monopoly Dog Piece

Mop

NA Mazda Miata (Specifically With Googly Eyes)

Native American Fire Opal Blade

Nebula

Nokia Phone 3310 (2000)

Occlupanids

Old Faithful

One Crouton

One Flavor Blasted Cheddar Goldfish

Onion Chopper/Mini Food Processer

Opalized Fossil

Oumuamua

Our Sun

Paint Tube

Palm Leaf Rose

Paper Crown

Paper Leaves

Paracetamol Tablet

Pencil

Pizza

Plastic Lightsaber

Plastic Play Food Set

Polly Pocket Website (circa 2005)

Popstar Microphone

Potato

"Previously on X-Men" (YouTube Video)

Rainbow Desk Lamp Christmas Gifted By Aunt

Rainbow Pride Flag

Red Bouncy Ball

Rice

Rocking Horse

Roller Skates

Rounde (Sheep Plush Adored by Friend Group)

Rubik's Cube

Russian Nesting Doll

Salt and Vinegar Chips

Sand-Filled Frog Toy Named Floppy

School Chair Attached To Desk

Screwdriver

Seattle Space Needle

Seki Edge Nail Clippers

Sewing Pin

Sharpie

Shoe Insoles

Shoelaces (From The President)

Silver Hoop Earrings

Simply Southern T-Shirt

Single Macaroni Noodle

Siren Percussion Instrument

Slap Bracelets

Sliced Bread

Slinky

Slip N' Slide

Slotted Spoon

Snowman Headband

Solar Eclipse Sunglasses

Soviet-Era Apartment Complex

Spamton Plush

Sparkly DND Dice That Look Like They Should Be Edible But Aren't

Spoon

Squirmles

Squishmallows

Squishy Water Tube Toy

Stained Glass

Stand-Up Bass

Starbucks Coffee Cup

Steel/Metal Pipe

Stick (From the Ground)

Stop Sign

Stuffed Animals

Styrofoam

Subway Employee Hat

Swiffer

Tamagotchi

The Bible

The Demon Core

The Entirely Of Wikipedia Printed Out

The Giant Canadian Rubber Duck

The International Space Station

The Internet

The Kaaba

The Milky Way

The Mona Lisa

The Moon

The Spinx

The Statue Of The Shoe That Almost Hit George Bush

The Tiny Jack Hiding In The Wall Of My Trunk For When I Have A Flat Tire

The Transistor

The Voynich Manuscript

The Wheel

The World Trade Center (WTC)

The Zener Diode

Theremin

TI-84 Graphing Calculator

Tofu

Tom Scott's Best Thing Survey

Torn Apart Skunk Dog Toy

Trans Flag

Tumblr Anon Hatemail

Tungsten Cube

Two Paper Cockatiels On A Wire Stand On My Desk

Umbrella Hat

Unicorn Pillow Pet

Vicks Vaprorub

Vincent Van Gogh's Sunflowers Painting

Vintage Railway Poster

Walkable City

Water

Water Bottle

Water Snake Wiggler

White Boards

White Out

Wind Chime

Wings of Fire Slightly Used Coloring Book

Wireless Headphones

Working McDonalds Ice Cream Machine

www.hasthelargehadroncolliderdestroyedtheworldyet.com

Xbox 360

Yoga Ball

Yu-Gi-Oh Cards

Zipper

Ōdachi

[cwcontentcreator]

100 Quirky Fun Life Hacks

1. Use a paper clip to fix a broken zipper pull.

2. Freeze grapes to chill white wine without diluting it.

3. Store bed sheets inside their matching pillowcase.

4. Use a trousers hanger as a cookbook holder.

5. Put a wooden spoon over boiling water to prevent overflows.

6. Use muffin tins for condiment assortments at BBQs.

7. Place a rubber band around an open paint can to wipe your brush.

8. Use nail polish to differentiate keys.

9. Cut soft cheese or cake with unscented dental floss.

10. Use a squeegee to remove pet hair from furniture.

11. Put pancake mix in a ketchup bottle for a no-mess experience.

12. Use old newspaper to deodorize food containers.

13. Clean your keyboard with sticky notes.

14. Use a can opener to safely open blister packs.

15. Amplify your phone’s speaker with a cup.

16. Use ice cubes to remove furniture indentations in carpet.

17. Use a banana peel to shine shoes.

18. Put a dry towel in the dryer to speed up the drying process.

19. Use a hanging shoe rack to organize cleaning supplies.

20. Use toothpaste to clear up hazy car headlights.

21. Drop Alka-Seltzer tabs to clean a toilet.

22. Freeze aloe vera gel in ice cube trays for sunburn relief.

23. Store ice cream in a zip-top bag to keep it soft.

24. Use a bread tab to hold your spot on a roll of tape.

25. Thread a necklace through a straw to prevent tangling.

26. Blow-dry your mirror to prevent fogging.

27. Use a pool noodle to fill your mop bucket.

28. Use a tennis ball to hold pens or as a towel holder.

29. Clean sneakers with toothpaste.

30. Use a lint roller to clean out your purse or backpack.

31. Use a pasta ladle to measure one serving of spaghetti.

32. Use a pillowcase to clean ceiling fans.

33. Place a rubber band around an open paint can to wipe your brush.

34. Use a post-it note when drilling to catch dust.

35. Wrap gifts with fabric for reusable wrapping.

36. Flip a toaster on its side for grilled cheese.

37. Prevent pot boiling over with a wooden spoon.

38. Infuse olive oil with garlic for instant bread dip.

39. Freeze lemon slices and water for instant refreshing drinks.

40. Use a hair straightener to iron collar edges.

41. Cook two pizzas at once by cutting them in half and laying them flat.

42. Use a microfiber cloth to clean your glasses with vinegar.

43. Use a carabiner to carry multiple grocery bags.

44. Freeze a sponge in a zip bag for an ice pack that won’t drip.

45. Write with a whiteboard marker on appliances to track perishables.

46. Use an egg slicer for equally sliced mushrooms.

47. Put a damp sponge in the microwave to disinfect it.

48. Layer scented dryer sheets between sheets for a fresh bed.

49. Soak a sponge in water and soap, freeze it for a DIY ice pack that cleans.

50. Use binder clips to fix a broken keyboard foot.

51. Make a tablet stand from a cutting board and a scrunchie.

52. Stash emergency cash in a ChapStick tube.

53. Plant herbs in a wine rack with glass jars.

54. Organize cables with binder clips on a desk edge.

55. Clean blender by blending water and soap.

56. Stuff newspaper in wet shoes for quick drying.

57. Use a muffin tin to serve condiments at a picnic.

58. Turn a magazine holder into a shelf by mounting it sideways.

59. Keep apple slices from browning with a rubber band.

60. Use a plastic bottle as a makeshift watering can.

61. Drop a few marshmallows into brown sugar to prevent hardening.

62. Clean your iron by ironing salt on wax paper.

63. Use a vegetable peeler to slice cheese thinly.

64. Sharpen scissors by cutting fine-grit sandpaper.

65. Use crayons as emergency candles.

66. Place a wooden spoon in a pot to prevent boiling over.

67. Make your own ice pack by freezing dish soap.

68. Organize your closet by hanging bags with shower curtain rings.

69. Keep cords organized with bread tags.

70. Use a colander to evenly distribute powdered sugar.

71. Make a DIY sprinkler with a punctured plastic bottle.

72. Use a wine cork to safely store needles.

73. Store sheet sets inside their corresponding pillowcase.

74. Freeze coffee in ice cube trays for undiluted iced coffee.

75. Use beeswax to waterproof shoes.

76. Use a magnetic strip to organize bobby pins and tweezers.

77. Remove pet hair with a squeegee.

78. Use old CD racks for bagel sandwich holders.

79. Use a potato to unscrew a broken lightbulb.

80. Use a salad spinner to fluff down jackets.

81. Use glasses as a makeshift smartphone tripod.

82. Keep your earbuds in a mint container when not in use.

83. Seal plastic bags with the top of a water bottle; cut the top off and slide the bag through the neck.

84. Convert a cardboard box into a makeshift sled.

85. Turn a plastic bottle into a makeshift piggy bank.

86. Keep a bar of soap in the same drawer as your dirty laundry to keep it smelling fresh.

87. Use old socks as sleeves to protect drinks from warming or hands from cold.

88. Use a wine bottle as a rolling pin.

89. Make a no-sew pet bed from an old sweater.

90. Cut an old milk jug into a dustpan.

91. Use a yoga mat under rugs for extra no-slip safety.

92. Use a waffle iron to make cinnamon rolls.

93. Turn a bread clip into a holder for tapes on a tape roll.

94. Put Vaseline on the end of a nail polish bottle for easy opening.

95. Use a vegetable peeler to make chocolate curls.

96. Use a pill container to organize jewelry when traveling.

97. Use a shower cap to cover the bottom of shoes in your luggage.

98. Use a lemon to freshen up your garbage disposal.

99. Use a rubber band around an open paint can for excess paint wiping.

100. Use clear nail polish to stop a run in your stockings.

[randomstufftournament]

I was planning on going through the list and picking the top ones to make the bracket with, but I didn't want to deprive you of any of the list (106 items long!!)

So it's going to be a bigger tournament than I expected!

At the end, the three winners will go head-to-head and we'll be able to crown a first, second, and third place winner.

The (randomly generated) first round of matchups will be:

a raccoon standing on its hind legs and making too much eye contact vs. imagined dragons

<3 vs. backwards baseball cap

A single small pellet of cobalt-60 vs space heater

Necklace chain (no pendant) vs sweet potato maki

Jellycat Amore Dog vs Syzygy

Seagull with a whole chili dog vs Wojtek the bear

Tomorrow vs A leaf with a tiny bug-sized bite taken out of it

Roasted parsnips vs bread

Thursday the 12th vs the first email account you ever made

Those ergonomic mice that are sideways and tall vs A Geiger counter but for great pussy

LOL vs Batfish

Lightly sweetened whole grain cereal vs green gummy bear

Nikita Khrushchev's shoe vs The molasses flood

Noticing a new freckle vs Petrichor

Window that brings in a slight draft vs big fluffy bathrobes

Greeting cards vs the little fake hands you put on a finger

A rat holding a strawberry in its little hands vs the giant catfish in the Chornobyl reactor cooling pond

The Cuban missile crisis vs LipSmacker flavored lip gloss

Couch cover vs uquiz for what kind of kitchen utensil you'd be

Orange tic tacs vs Paw print set in concrete

Plastic animal figurines vs empty snail shell

Permian-Triassic Extinction Event vs single unmatched sock (its mate has been lost)

Revolutionary Girl Utena (1997) vs leggings with a run in them

Florida Man vs Funables Fruity Snacks, Mixed Berry Fruit Snacks, Family Size, 40 Count

Bath beads (shape of dolphin) vs wet log in the ground, home to moss and fungi

The shoes that Muntadhar al-Zaidi threw at George Bush vs Pi Day

The Chornobyl elephant's foot vs Matryoshka dolls

Pigeon vs candy necklaces from the 1990s

Swinging so high on a swing set that you become briefly weightless at the top of the arc vs ring pop

Sex dice that can only deliver confusing combinations vs the state of Florida

Queen Elizabeth's corpse vs sheet of cat stickers

SALE! 2/$2.99 Fresh Hass Avocado vs orange slime made by an 8-year-old and then left to dry out in the back of a closet for years

The color puce vs pill case

A nuclear-powered ramjet vs Chromodorus Willani

Red lava lamp vs glow in the dark stars to put on your bedroom ceiling

Ufo porno vs Lego three in ones

Disposable chopsticks vs garlic bread

Generic grocery store brand apple juice from concentrate vs skeleton

Three haunted porcelain dolls vs a duck with perfectly formed human hands instead of wings coming out of its shoulders

A bus pass with $7.33 on it vs The last of the gift wrap paper (not enough to wrap a present)

The SL-1 reactor in Idaho vs 1 yard of fleece

Glasses without lenses vs the rabies virus

There are a few byes that we'll come across in round 2:

Tapetum lucidum (will face the winner of matchup #1)

1 can of Goya brand black beans (will face the winner of matchup #4)

A dog who is normal in every way except that it can identify any plant by its scientific name (will face the winner of matchup #5)

Duke the Bush's Baked Beans mascot (will face the winner of matchup #6)

Jumbo binder clips (will face the winner of matchup #9)

Mead (will face the winner of matchup #12)

The smell of a Sears auto department (will face the winner of matchup #15)

The composer Fryderyk Chopin's heart, In case in a jar of booze in a church in the middle of Warsaw, Poland (will face the winner of matchup #16)

Sour cream (will face the winner of matchup #17)

A 2005 Honda Civic with a vinyl wrap of Sasuke on the side (will face the winner of matchup #20)

73 dachshunds (will face the winner of matchup #21)

$9.99 headphones from CVS (will face the winner of matchup #22)

The French language (will face the winner of matchup #25)

The number 11 (will face the winner of matchup #26)

The Weather Channel on August 28th 2005 (will face the winner of matchup #27)

World peace (will face the winner of matchup #30)

Glass swan sold at a gas station (will face the winner of matchup #33)

Discarded McDonald's toy found on the sidewalk (will face the winner of matchup #36)

Lube that just. too slippery to be useful (will face the winner of matchup #37)

@hillbilly---man's Archie comics phase World War II veteran who hates sharks (will face the winner of matchup #38) *I changed this one because quite a few of you don't know me and don't care about my Archie comics phase. Apologies to the submitter!

Roasted garlic (will face the winner of matchup #41)

White LEDs (will face the winner of matchup #42)

The placement of all of these was done randomly, but I'll try to seed future rounds based on performance.

The first polls will be published tomorrow

[6ftkyle]

oh and 41 and 47 for cryde bc I know you love-a them :3

41- Who’s the most self-aware?

i thiiiink clyde. craig locks all his shit up and puts it away and doesnt think twice about it until he explodes. clyde wants to talk about his feelings and process them and have a good fat cathartic cry. he knows hes a crybaby, he knows hes soft and sensitive and hes perfectly fine with it.

47 - Who’s the cheapest?

oh clyde. i dont think craig thinks twice about money, because i dont think thomas and laura tucker ever instilled that in him. but betsy donovan? with her lemon bar recipe and suburban sensitivities about the toilet seat? she had to be a super couponing queen. deal hunter extraordinaire. never bought an item at full price in her life.

and clyde carries that legacy on. craig hates grocery shopping with him because it takes a million years, clyde has his little plastic organizer of coupons he clipped from the sunday junk mail, he wants to go to 4 different stores because meat is cheaper here, but bread and eggs are cheaper over there, but milk is on sale at this store right now.