#the problem is that my current job makes a lot more than my last one so im pretty aure im on a timer for losing my state insurance

[weabooweedwitch]

My skincare journey/nightmare continues. So I have seborrheic dermatitis on my scalp which causes me to have dry skin on my cheeks/forehead and need a special moisturizer and maybe even some slugging right? WRONG I have combo skin and the heavier moisturizers turn me into an absolute oil slick which then gets into the dry cheek pores which need to be deep cleaned by those AHA/BHA acids which can also be further drying which needs to be hydrated which can cause oiliness and needs to be cleansed and-- y'all im ready to go back to my dermatologist 😩

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

It wasn’t over, it still isn’t over. (Bandit cowboy! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader) Part 2

Wake up babe, new cowboy Miguel fic just dropped! This part was heavily inspired by the notebook. Period pieces are not my strong suit so apologizes if it’s not good. Not proofread, enjoy!

(Y/N)-Your name.

Cursing, mentions/usage of alcohol, attempted robbery/theft, mentions of guns, Miguel jokes about manhandling you but nothing actually happens, mentions of sexual acts, but nothing happens.

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1

Masterlist

—

Five years.

Five years since you had last seen the cowboy who had stolen your heart.

You had graduated college and moved out of your parents home, moving a few towns over, nowhere near a big city like you lived in during your youth in the East but a lot larger than the one you had lived during the whole Miguel incident. You lived in a nice home, gotten a job as a teacher for the younger kids in town and… you were recently engaged.

Your fiancé was a nice man, sweet, understanding, kind, easy on the eyes, you liked him a lot, the only problem is, you didn’t love him. You should feel bad about getting married to a wealthy man who you didn’t even see as more than of a friend, but at the same time, your mother thought it would be best to marry you off to her friend’s son that just so happened to be inheriting his father’s liquor business when he settled down. It was a marriage of convenience if anything, at least he was polite with you despite neither you or him having any romantic feelings, if anything it made the whole thing a bit easier for you. Growing content with the fact that this would turn into your future children’s definition of love.

Five years to grow from a silly lovestruck teenager into a young woman with responsibilities and a bright future ahead of her, and you still thought about him. You can't help but frantically Miguel’s name under the obituary section of the town’s paper, unknowingly breathing a sigh of relief when his name wouldn’t appear. Although it was foolish, and despite no longer living in the same small town as your parents, you couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter at the fact he hasn’t found you yet. Was he even attempting to look for you? With a reputation like his, you’re certain you weren’t the first girl he’s charmed to get under his sheets… or in your case, jail cell. So, eventually, you stopped hoping, if he hadn’t found you during the last five years, he surely wasn’t looking. Why should you?

—

“Darling.” Your fiancé, Austin, called out for you before rounding the corner that connected the living room into the kitchen. You hummed in response as you kept your eyes on the stack of papers you were currently grading for your students, a pen in your dominant hand as your free one tapped a mindless tone to help keep you concentrated. “Put the papers down and take a break will you? You’ve got all week to grade those tests.” You let out a huff and a whine as you put the pen down, he was right. Your eyes keep unfocusing and your wrist was being to grow sore, making your fiancé tsk. “I don’t understand why you don’t just quit, I make enough to support us both.”

“I should,shouldn't I…” You contimplacted with a weary chuckle, and although your tone was joking, you were seriously considering it. You adored your students with all your heart, you really did. But the school was putting so much pressure on you because they refused to hire another teacher to help lessen your workload. So you and two other teachers were juggling a handful of 300 seven year olds, it was a lot… to say the least. You picked yourself up from your seat to stretch your body out, before turning to Austin. “Now was that all you came to tell me?” You asked in a playful tone.

“No, actually… I came to ask for a favor.” He admitted, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. “Ya know I’ve got that… liquor convention event out of town this weekend, right?” You nodded in confirmation, “well, I was wondering if you could do me the favor of just checking in on my office while I’m gone. I’ve heard a lot about break ins and whatnot during these times, just drop by for a few minutes for the 4 days that I’ll be gone.”

You tapped the nonsensical rhythm again as you thought about it, it wasn’t too much of an ask, you’d just drop by for a few minutes a day, you shrugged. “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

—

Saturday afternoon, your first day off and your third alone. Grateful for the ability to sleep in and being about to eat a well rounded breakfast. After doing your usual morning routine, and having changed into one of your simpler dresses to go out and run some errands for the day.

Gone out to get groceries, send out a letter to your parents, went to the tailors to drop off some Austin’s shirts to be hemmed since you didn’t feel like sitting down all to do it yourself, even finished grading the last of the test all before noon ended. After tidying up your work from its usual spot from the kitchen table, you made yourself a quick lunch and went to read a few chapters of your book on the couch. Only to end up falling asleep, and once you woke up, you glanced at the clock-shit.

“It’s half past five?! I was supposed to go to his office an hour ago!” You yelled to no one but yourself as you quickly got up from your spot on the couch, fixing your hair quickly as you threw on your coat, and made your way back out the door.

—

“I told ya boys this heist would be easy… if we leave by dusk we could hit up that train that passes by el dorado tomorrow evening…” Miguel chuckled as he tossed his now full bag of valuables to his brother, who then passed it over Peter would load it to one of their horses that they had waiting for them around the back of the building.

After that night he had escaped, it took him about a month to find his partners in crime, following their trail through stolen newspapers from random porches and the knowledge of how their usual trail was, luckily they had kept his horse safe and well taken care of too.

“One more bag then we’re as good as gone.” Miguel said with a smirk, making Gabriel Let out a laugh and a clap. Right when Miguel was going to prep the last bag, the faint noise of rushing made all three men stop in their tracks. Before he sent his younger brother a glare and he hissed in a low tone through his teeth. “Pinche cabrón- I thought you said this place would be empty all weekend.” (Fucking dumbass)

“I thought it would!” He whispered-shouted back, before they heard the door creak open.

“Fuck-okay… um, go check if it’s the sheriff.” He quietly ordered Gabriel, before turning to Peter, “Get the horses ready incase we needa’ book It.” With a nob both males did as told, as Miguel quickly went to pack the last bag.

When his younger brother entered the front room, he swore he heard him mutter the words “hello pretty lady” before the muffle sound of rustling and some high-pitched yelping, but never was a shot fired, so clearly it couldn’t have been someone to play an immediate threat. Just as he was finishing tying up the bag, Gabriel came back into the room, but not alone.

“Look at what I found, it must be his little wife.” He said almost mockingly as he hazardly pulled you into the room and pushed you into the room in front of Miguel’s feet, but with your face being tilted down as you caught yourself from falling face first onto the wooden floor.

“Careful!” You yelled as you try to collect yourself, once you get yourself to look up at the bandit you were dropped in front of, your scowl immediately turned into once of disbelief, and it seems his expression matched yours.

You both seem to have froze up in time as you both did nothing but stare at each other, Gabriel just crossed his arms and raised a brow, Peter came jogging in to inform his friends the horses are ready when he saw the odd scene, opting to keep his mouth shut.

Finally, you came back to life as you blinked, as if expecting his to disappear right before your very eyes again, and when he didn’t, you finally whispered a faint. “…Miguel?”

“…(Y/N)…” You nodded your head, despite it not being a question, and he cleared his throat, not breaking eye contact with you as he spoke his next orders to Peter and Gabriel. “Unload all that shit and put it back.”

—

He had told Gabriel and Peter to go on to do the train heist without him, and that he'd meet up with them afterwards. Saying he had “unattended business to take care of”. So now here he was, in your kitchen, only being lightened up by a few candles as darkness overtook the sky. Both of you sharing drunken giggles over dinner. Miguel’s black cowboy hat that was certainly too big for you sitting on top of your head as you sip on your beer.

“That hat looks adorable on you.” Miguel chuckled, making you shake your head with a giggle, your free hand going to rest on top of the hat to help keep it stabilized.

“It’s so big!” You countered as you take the hat off and went to hand it back to Miguel, who grabs it and sets it back on his head.

“You know you shouldn’t be wearing just anyone’s hat. Ya know what they say about wearing a man’s cowboy hat.” He joked as he put down his now empty bottle, chuckling when he saw your face contour in confusion.

“What do they say?” You asked curiously, making Miguel’s smirk widen.

“Wear the hat…” he tapped the brim on the hat for emphasis, “Ride the cowboy.” He finished, making you gasp dramatically.

“Miguel! That’s inappropriate!” You pretended to be offended, but you couldn’t help but crack a smile near the end of you reprimanding him.

“Oh please, you act like you haven’t before, why not again? Unless you want me to come over then and manhandle you.” He was only joking of course, he may have been a thief and a murderer but he’d never hurt a woman, especially not you. You let out a faux gasp, playing along as your right hand goes to your chest for emphasis.

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m a married woman.” You said in a softer tone, going to sip your bottle to finish it off. You haven’t really told him you were going to be getting married soon, even though he knew you were in a relationship, he didn’t quite know how serious it was.

“Not yet.” He replied almost immediately, shaking his head as his playful tone dropped to a more serious yet still gentle tone. The soft smile stays on his lips but it didn’t meet his eyes anymore when you raised your hand to show off the silver band that decorates your ring finger, the diamond shining even only in the candlelight. It took you a moment too long to realize this.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, the start of a giggle comes out with your words but they quickly die down in your throat as the once playful atmosphere starts to turn more serious.Miguel just shakes his head as a hand goes to rub at his chin.

“Nothing nothing… just didn’t think you’d ever get married… thought what we had was something real.” He admitted, eyes casted downwards as he goes to fidget with a bent half beer bottle cap. You let out a scoff, offended by his words.

“Don’t try and think I just forgot about you the moment my father dragged me out of that door,” your brows furrowed and your arms crossed on the wooden table as you started to chastise him, “I was stuck on you for five years Miguel. Five. Years.” You emphasized the two words with taps on the table. “Don’t get me wrong, Austin is a great guy, but it was my parents' idea for me to marry him. They thought it was a good way to get me to stop thinking about you-“ You shouldn’t be admitting that outloud but the buzz made your mind hazy.

“Do you love him?” He interrupted you, eyes burning into yours, those same intense eyes you had dreamed about as you slept, you had to look away.

“It’s not that simple Miguel-“

“But it is.” He insisted, standing up from his seat, the chair screeching as it tried not to topple over. “You either love him or you don’t.”

“I’m not doing this with you Miguel.” You shook your head as you stood as well, going to clean up the mess you two had made, trying to erase any evidence you two were there.

“Too bad, I’m not just gonna drop this and let you disappear from my life, I’m not losing you again.” He declared, you weren’t going to justify his admission with a response, but as you go to pick up a few empty bottles, they slip from your hands, cracking into hundreds of small shreds as Miguel’s hands turn you around to face him. A shocked gasp begins to leave your lips before it is quickly swallowed up by his. You know you should push him off, but you couldn’t help but melt underneath his touch.

Miguel O’Hara was a criminal, a thief of many things and no matter how much you try to stop him, he’ll always find a way to steal your heart all over again.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @xevita @marshhbs @inlovewithpandora @vera4luv @mcmiracles @eddieslooneymoonie @to-the-endoftheline

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for breaking up with my boyfriend because he likes my body?

TW for ED but please hear me out:

My bf (30m) and I (28f) have been together for a little over 5 years. When we got together I had an extremely stressful and physically demanding job. Shortly after our relationship started I relapsed with an eating disorder that had been a problem since prepubescence; I started restricting heavily at age 11 and had struggled with it on/off since then.

After quitting that terrible job and regaining some agency in my life, I spent a couple of years really focused on recovery. Without giving specific numbers (cause triggering) I'll say that I was extremely underweight to an unhealthy level for at least a year and experienced severe health complications because of it. I nearly died from heart problems and had a big wakeup call that caused me to change my whole life. I've done the work of recovery without medical help (history of omission with doctors) but have had support from my bf, and am currently at the highest weight of my life.

at a recent checkup my Dr talked a lot about "healthy lifestyle" and mentioned my weight gain over the past couple of years. I'm still within the "normal" range for my height and build, but the after visit summary/chart notes denoted risk of becoming overweight. Idk if my Dr would have brought it up if my history of ED was in my chart, (and I did switch primary care practices a few years ago, so they weren't treating me at my thinnest) but it still shook me a bit and I will admit to feeling very triggered.

The job I moved to is quite sedentary compared to the previous terrible one - I wfh, and very rarely have to be on my feet or do strenuous activity. In addition, I have chronic pain issues that make exercise difficult, and so historically have just restricted to maintain/lose weight because it's easier for me physically to just be hungry than to work out. I didn't want to go down that road again though because of how intense and scary it got last time.

My bf is a personal trainer and specializes in working with low ability clients and people recovering from long illness/injury. When I told him that I wanted to start exercising more often and get a good cardio routine going, he was really excited and started immediately putting together an "action plan" (what he calls it w his clients idk) for me. Then he mentioned how I'd need to add on a bunch of meal supplements and snacks to avoid losing weight and I got upset.

We're a plant-based (vegan) household and live with a roommate (bf's friend) so mostly eat/cook communal dinners and have various breakfast & lunch plans on hand, so we already eat pretty healthy and make sure to have a good balance of macro/micro in the meal plan. My intent was to eat the same but increase my activity level to get out of the danger zone without restricting. I don't generally snack and rarely eat dessert, just the 3 squares.

I told my bf that I needed to lose weight and be more active according to my doctor, and that I wasn't comfortable with having protein supplements, smoothies, and snacks in addition to regular meals because that would defeat the purpose. He got really sad and said that he likes the way my body is now, and while he supports being more active, he doesn't want the size of me to change. His exact words at some point were "you look so good now, I love the amount of you that there is and I like the way you jiggle." It kind of made me feel sick and wonder if he has like a secret size fetish or something?

So I've been thinking of breaking things off with him and moving in with a friend or back in with my parents, but idk if this is actually a red flag or just the disorder talking? He did help me a lot with recovery but if he's going to keep me from being healthy or wants me to gain even more weight then maybe it's better to leave - would this be an asshole move? I honestly don't know.

[henry7931]

The Brat Who Mowed My Lawn

Harold:

You know this kid is a real piece of work! But now that I have his body that’s all gonna change.

Chase has mowed my lawn for a couple of years now and I should have fired him for his poor attitude awhile ago.

The only is that he’s only one around I know who will do it well. Being an old man, it’s hard to get around but my ears and eyes still work!

Well I guess that’s a problem of the past for me and more of a problem for Chase.

All I do is catch that boy up to know good. And I knew for a fact he was going to be just as much of a bully and an a hole in college as we was for the last 18 years of his life.

What really upset me was how mean he would be to that sweet gay kid next door Joseph. That kid didn’t do anything to him!

Well I got a surprise for Chase when he wakes up from my nap, not only is now old, going to have trouble moving around but he’s going to hear about his body coming out as a proud gay man!

You know this is the last thing I’m going to do for him which is a free mow of his new lawn haha!

Now I better get back to my new home before he wakes up.

10 minutes later:

“Wooowee!! These piggies right here stink!”

But look how sexy my new young toes look! Let me get a good ole sniff…

*sniff*

Boy that makes my new pecker harder than a pool!

I take a little peak at my growing boner and it’s a pretty good size.

I walk over to my window to see if he’s gotten up yet but that’s when I spot that sweet gay boy walking.

I crack open the window and say, “Joseph!! Hey hold up a minute, I wanna talk to you!”

He looks nervous and I say, “I promise, it’s nothing bad. Just give me 2 minutes.”

I run downstairs and meet him at my door.

He looks at me shyly and I say, “hey I owe you an apology.”

“Really?”

“Yeah I’ve been awful to you and— it’s because I haven’t been honest with myself. I just see you out here being so you and truthful… I guess what I’m trying to say is…. I’m gay too.”

He looks shocked hearing the words come out of my mouth.

“It’s okay Chase, I uhhh I’m kinda surprised but thank you for the apology.”

“Well how I’ve been was not acceptable at all and I would love to make it up to you.”

“Yeah?”

I scoot closer to him, “I think you’re awfully cute and uh… what are you doing right now?”

I was gonna ask him on a date but my bodies hormones are losing control right now.

“Nothing really.”

“Well you wanna hang out?”

1 hour later:

So Joseph and I made out for a bit which kinda led us to heavy pettin’

And well I may have let him explore my new body. And we’re pretty compatible, we both like smelly pits, dirty feet, he even let me play with his cute toes too.

But the best part was the foot job he gave me. It felt amazing on my new pecker. He even let me lick all the cum off his toes.

Now he wants to come back tonight for a “sleepover.” Good thing is that my new parents won’t mind, that it matters I’m a grown adult at my age.

Oh wait I’m getting a FaceTime, oh look who it is! It’s the old sleepy grandpa.

“Hello Mr. Harold, how did you like your yard?”

“SHUT UP OLD MAN! AND GIVE ME BACK MY BODY!”

“Oh no, is everything okay over there? You don’t sound well. Should I call someone?”

“Don’t play stupid! You need to give me back my body or—“

“Or what exactly? You’re going to beat me up? Tell someone? Listen, I don’t think anyone had ever taught you a lesson so I’ll make this easy for you.”

*click*

Poor old man, sounds like he’s going through a lot. Oh well!

*A Few Months Later*

“Ugh are you going to tease me with this clothes on or are you gonna join me?” says Joseph my currently naked boyfriend standing with an erection in front of me.

“Well let me start out with my socks, I know you love my feet after a long day.”

“God you I do love your feet but I especially love that nice cock of yours.”

Joseph impatiently hops into the recliner with me and I embrace his body wrapping my hands and with his cock.

“So glad your parents are out of town, I can’t wait until we’re ‘college roommates’ next week.”

“I know then we can do this every night,” I say pinching his ass.

Joesph or Joey as I like to call him makes a yelping noise,

“Oh my god, I forgot to ask you. Did you hear about our old neighbor next door?”

“Oh yeah, poor old guy. Well you wanna take this upstairs because I’m horny as f*ck now.”

“Please! And you better fuck me tonight Chase, I’m not giving you a foot job again.”

“But!!! But you’re so good at them baby and your feet are so sexy!”

“Nope I want you rail me.”

“Fine!”

[phantomrose96]

Hey not to go all "tumblr is a professional networking site" on you, but how did you get to work for Microsoft??? I'm a recent grad and I'm being eviscerated out here trying to apply for industry jobs & your liveblogging about your job sounds so much less evil than Data Entry IT Job #43461

This place is basically LinkedIn to me.

I'm gonna start by saying I am so so very sorry you're a recent grad in the year 2024... Tech job market is complete ass right now and it is not just you. I started fulltime in 2018, and for 2018-2022 it was completely normal to see a yearly outflow of people hopping to new jobs and a yearly inflow of new hires. Then sometime around late-spring/early-summer of 2022 Wallstreet sneezed the word "recession" and every tech company simultaneously shit themselves.

Tons of layoffs happened, meaning you're competing not just with new grads but with thousands of experienced workers who got shafted by their company. My org squeaked by with a small amount of layoffs (3 people among ~100), but it also means we have not hired anyone new since mid-2022. And where I used to see maybe 4-8 people yearly leave in order to hop to a new job, I think I've seen 1 person do that in the whole last year and a half.

All this to say it's rough and I can't just say "send applications and believe in yourself :)".

I have done interviews though. (I'm not involved in resume screening though, just the interviews of candidates who made it past the screening phase.) So I have at least some relevant advice, as well as second-hand knowledge from other people I know who've had to hop jobs or get hired recently.

If you have friends already in industry who you feel comfortable asking, reach out to them. Most companies have a recommendation process where a current employee fills out a little form that says "yeah I'd recommend such-and-such for this job." These do seem to carry weight, since it's coming from a trusted internal person and isn't just one of the hundreds of cold-call applications they've received.

A lot of tech companies--whether for truly well-intentioned reasons or to just check a checkbox--are on the lookout for increasing employee diversity. If you happen to have anything like, for example, "member of my college Latino society", it's worth including on your resume among your technical skills and technical projects.

I would add "you're probably gonna have to send a lot of applications" as a bullet point but I'm sure you're already doing that. But here it is as a bullet point anyway.

(This is kind of a guess, since it's part of the resume screening) but if you can dedicate some time to getting at least passingly familiar with popular tech/stacks for the positions you're looking into, try doing that in your free time so you can list it on your resume. Even better if you make a project you can point to. Like if you're aiming for webdev, get familiar with React and probably NodeJS. On top of being comfortable in one of the all-purpose languages like C(++) or Java or Python.

If you get to the interview phase - a company that is good to work for WILL care that you're someone who's good to work with. A tech-genius who's a coworker-hating egotistical snob is a nuisance at best and a liability at worst for companies with even a half-decent culture. When I do interviews, "Is this someone who's a good culture fit?" is as important as the technical skills. You'll want to show you'll be a perfectly pleasant, helpful, collaborative coworker. If the company DOESN'T care about that... bullet dodged.

For the technical questions, I care more about the thought process than I do the right answer, especially for entry-level. If you show a capacity for asking good, insightful clarifying questions, an ability to break down the problem, explain your thought process, and backtrack&alter your approach upon realizing something won't work, that's all more important than just being able to spit out a memorized leetcode answer. (I kinda hate leetcode for this reason, and therefore I only ask homebrewed questions, because I don't want the technical portion to hinge at all on whether someone managed to memorize the first 47 pages of leetcode problems). For a new hire, the most important impression you can give me is that you have a technical grasp and that you're capable of learning. Because a new hire isn't going to be an expert in anything, but they're someone who's capable of learning the ropes.

That's everything I have off the top of my head. Good luck anon. I'm very sorry you were born during a specific range of years that made you a new grad in 2024 and I hope it gets better.

[joeyalohadream]

turning the tables a little and requesting a sick bucky drabble… except he has NO problem accepting buck’s comfort and care. he’s extremely cranky from his illness but just wants to cuddle him

Hi anon! I took a LONG time to get to this one so I wrote a little more than usual. Hope you like it!

Here's a sick, grumpy Bucky (with everyone but Gale) and caretaker Buck. And, as always - softness and fluff! (Also my first time writing from Gale's POV, so that was fun!)

Word Count: 2,437

“You’re being ridiculous, Bucky. Just go to sick call and take the damn day.”

Gale’s steps stall outside Red’s office on his way to the briefing room. He listens in through the door, doesn’t even have to try really, as the men inside aren’t exactly being quiet.

“What would be ridiculous, Red, would be a healthy person going to sick call.”

Gale rolls his eyes and continues down the hall. He had his suspicions last night when Bucky had retuned much earlier than usual from the Officer’s Club that the other man had been feeling under the weather. But Gale had already been in bed and Bucky had brushed off his questions and given his forehead its customary goodnight kiss before falling into his own cot with a dramatic sigh. He’d been snoring within minutes and had been up before Gale for a meeting with leadership about the handover with Jack on Air Executive duties.

Gale was happy that Bucky would be back in the air with him. The happiness was dimmed by worry, but he knew that it wasn’t something he could affect. He worried about Bucky and Bucky worried about him and they’d both be going up into the sky and maybe wouldn’t be coming back down. It was something they’d have to learn to let into their relationship. To grow with.

But Gale wasn’t happy that Bucky would be spending all day today pretending he was okay when it was obvious to everyone that he wasn’t. There was no mission today, just a briefing on targets of opportunity and work with the ground crews on the forts they took up two days ago.

Bucky would be spending the day working with Jack on Air Executive duties, ensuring their transition went smoothly.

Sitting through the target briefing made his stomach clench with dread and flutter with anticipation at the same time. He exited the building, intending to grab some food before heading out to the tarmac.

Jack’s raised voice coming from the other side of the parachute storage door he was passing stopped him.

“You’re sick, Bucky! I don’t want to catch whatever you’ve got. This can wait until you’re not contagious.”

“I’m not sick. Let’s just get through this shit.”

“Breathe through your nose, Bucky.”

“Fuck you, Jack.”

Gale huffs a laugh and continues on his way.

----

Having to scrub engine grease from his skin is one of the pitfalls of spending time with Ken and his boys. He likes to know his Fort, all of the ins and outs, and he likes the way Ken lights up when Gale asks questions that allow the kid to share his expertise. So, the black grease he’s currently trying to remove from his forearms under the spray of the shower came from a good cause.

He gets the last of it off and moves to wet his hair as voices filter into the washroom. They stop around the wall where the sink basins are and Gale smiles when he hears its Bucky.

“Leave it, Curt.” Gale frowns at the nasally sounding tone.

“I’m just sayin’,” Curt’s accented voice joins the fray as Gale scrubs his hair. “Harding didn’t say he needed you to bring him the inventory report. Just give it to me and I’ll take it.”

“I’m not even fucking done with it,” Bucky groans.

“Then make Jack finish it. He’s air exec now,” Curt recommends. “The boring shit is his job as of today.”

“I just need to finish it and be done with it all.”

A lot of people look at Bucky and see a cocky pilot, which Gale will concede, he is.  But only the ones that really know him know that he has a tenacious work ethic. It’s paired with a shit attention span that makes things harder on him, but Gale admires the hell out of him.

“You need to go get yourself some medicine,” Curt snipes. “There’s some real pretty nurses in the sick bay, sure they’d love to get their hands on you.”

Gale rolls his eyes at Curt’s suggestive tone and then smiles when he hears Bucky’s reply.

“Yeah, not interested.”

“Since when?”

“And I’m not sick,” Bucky’s rough voice growls out and it makes Gale glare at the wall between them.

“You could literally cook an egg on your forehead.”

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“You touch everyone all the goddamn time!”

Gale can’t help but chuckle at Curt’s fading words as he must be exiting the washroom. He closes his eyes and tips his back under the spray of the shower. When he opens them again, he can’t help but startle slightly as he sees Bucky’s flushed face peeking at him from around the wall.

“Lookin’ good, Buck,” Bucky throws him a roguish wink, eyes definitely not on his face. Gale throws his bar of soap in his direction and laughs as Bucky ducks back behind the wall to avoid it. His laughter fades out as he too exits the washroom.

That had been Gale’s first look at Bucky all day and he’d have to be blind not to notice the fever spots on his cheeks. He’d been planning to spend the rest of his day going over the mission planning briefs but he changes his mind as he turns off the shower, dries off and heads back to their quarters.

He leaves his hair mussed and falling over his forehead, puts on his PT gear and heads for the sick bay.

----

Gale’s sitting on his cot when the guys return from dinner, Bucky bringing up the rear. He smiles when Bucky’s eyes immediately search him out, heart warming at the relief he sees on the other man’s face when he finds him.

“Why don’t you want to go to Officer’s Club with us, Bucky?” Crank asks, voice teasing.

“I’ve gotta get up early,” Bucky grumbles back, making his way towards his cot, directly across from Gale’s own.

“We have the same schedule now that you’re back with us,” Crank points out. “And we don’t have anywhere to be until 1100.”

Bucky doesn’t answer, just sits heavily on his cot and glares back at Crank.

“Just get your shit and get the hell outta here,” Bucky snarks. “Those Red Cross girls are all gonna be taken if you all keep dawdling.”

“You don’t want to come find one for yourself?” Crank pushes.

“I really don’t,” Bucky pushes back.

“Now that right there proves it,” Crank laughs. “Just admit that you’re sick!”

“Just mind your own fucking business!” Bucky turns away from the room and starts taking off his boots.

Gale raises an eyebrow at Crank when he gets his attention and makes a motion with his head. Crank raises his hands in surrender and backs away.

Bucky gives Gale a small smile after he gathers his toiletries and moves to head to the showers. Gale returns the smile and then tries not to glare at the rest of the men until they all finally exit the barracks, headed for their drinks and their women.

“You got him?” Curt asks as he’s about to walk out the door.

“Always do,” Gale nods. Curt looks satisfied and heads out into the dusk.

Gale uses his time alone to prepare Bucky’s cot. He straightens the sheets, fluffs the pillow and adds one of his own to the mix. Pulls the blanket back so it looks inviting.

Then he sets up his supplies on his own footlocker and waits for Bucky.

Only a few minutes pass before shuffling footsteps draw his attention to Bucky’s slow-moving figure making his way to him, dressed in a pair of their cold weather PT pants and long sleeve shirt, rubbing a towel of his head. When he pulls it away, his curls are a mess.

Gale can’t keep the fond smile off his lips as he stands up, blocking Bucky’s path once he reaches their cots. He takes the towel and his toiletries from his hands and drops them onto Bucky’s footlocker and then he just looks at him.

They’re standing a foot apart and Bucky looks into his eyes for a beat before his shoulders sag and his eyes get a little bigger and he huffs out a pitiful sounding sigh.

“Buck,” he practically whines, and Gale takes advantage of their solitude by stepping closer and reaching forward to cup the older man’s too-warm cheek. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, John,” Gale soothes, letting his thumb caress the heated skin beneath it. He smiles when Bucky rests the weight of head in his hand and closes his eyes. The fact that he doesn’t grouch at him, doesn’t try to hide anything from him like he’s been doing all day with everyone else makes affection bloom in his chest.

“Missed you today,” Bucky breathes out.

“Missed you too,” Gale admits. He misses Bucky whenever they’re not in the same room and it concerns him a little how attached he’s gotten.

“Come sit down,” Gale uses his free hand to latch onto the front of Bucky’s shirt and gives him a tug. He drops his hand from his face and moves it to his arm as he guides him to his cot. “I got you some stuff.”

Bucky sits down heavily, a groan escaping him, and Gale has been subject to enough sickness to know that his fever is probably making his whole-body ache. He winces in sympathy and grabs one of the fever-reducing tablets he’d gotten from the nurse earlier, places it in Bucky’s palm and hands him his canteen.

“Where’d you get these?” Bucky asks before he swallows the pill with a pull of water that leaves him grimacing.

“Sick bay,” Gale tells him.

“They just handing out these things to anyone that asks now?”

“Kinda told them I wasn’t feeling well,” he shrugs and sits down next to Bucky.

“You, Gale Cleven, lied to a medical professional?” Bucky looks scandalized, but there is a smirk playing at his lips. “And they believed you?”

“Sure did,” Gale reaches forward and grabs the mess kit from the footlocker.

“But you’re a terrible liar,” Bucky points out.

“I might have played it up a bit,” Gale admits sheepishly, still feeling embarrassed for his impromptu acting session. “Gave them that look you always say I give you.”

“You gave them the big, sad-puppy eyes?” Bucky looks offended. “Those eyes are supposed to be just for me.”

“They are Bucky,” Gale squeezes his knee. “I used them today for you.”

“You hate doctors,” Bucky reminds him. “You even hate nurses.”

“Love you, though,” Gale smiles at him and Bucky’s eyes widen a bit before he smiles back. Gale’s favorite big dopey grin lighting up his whole face.

“Now, eat this,” Gale put the mess kit into Bucky’s hand and unlatches the lid, revealing a salty broth. “Got it from the Red Cross van. It’s probably not hot anymore but should be warm. Guessing you didn’t eat any dinner.”

“Did you?” Bucky narrows his eyes at him, and Gale gives him his most innocent look. Knows that Bucky sees right through it, but he also understands that Gale hasn’t had much of an appetite since his first mission and he’s thankful when Bucky lets it lie. Knows that the fact that he does is evidence of how terrible he’s feeling.

Bucky foregoes the spoon and lifts the whole tin to his mouth, drinking from it like it’s a cup. He takes several big gulps and Gale laughs when he finishes it in under a minute.

“S’good,” Bucky wipes his mouth with his hand and gives the empty tin back to Gale.

“Should’ve gotten you more,” Gale frowns at the empty dish.

“It was perfect Buck,” Bucky knocks their knees together and then turns his head away to cough. Gale stows away the dish and turns back in time to see Bucky’s flushed face smiling at him. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

Gale feels his own cheeks heat up and curses Bucky’s ability to make him feel so damn flustered, wishes sweet words came as easily to him so he could return the favor.

“I just wanna go to sleep,” Bucky sounds tired, and a yawn follows his words.

“Lay down,” Gale moves aside and helps Bucky recline. He pulls the blanket over him and places his hand on his forehead, frowning at the heat he feels.

“Stop worrying,” Bucky tells him, blinking slowly at him.

“You always worry about me,” Gale points out. “Let me have my turn.”

He smooths his hand through Bucky’s curls, letting his fingers scritch his scalp, satisfied when Bucky’s eyes close and a look of contentment stretches across his features.

“Can you lay down with me?” Bucky’s rough voice asks.

And Gale knows he shouldn’t. Knows any one of the guys could come back for any number of reasons at any time. Knows he won’t have an explanation for being in Bucky’s cot with him. Knows the last thing Bucky’s fever needs is another warm body against his.

“Please,” Bucky opens his eyes and pushes head more firmly into Gale’s hand. “Just want to lay with you for a little bit. Just till I fall asleep?”

And how can Gale say no to him? He’s sick and tired and feels miserable and for some reason the only thing, the only person he lets see it all is him. Gale doesn’t know what he did to deserve that trust, but he’ll do anything to keep it. He’s never had anyone need him like Bucky does, never had anyone want him like he does, and he’s definitely never had anyone love like he does. Gale couldn’t say no for anything in the world.

He leans forward and presses his lips to Bucky’s over-heated forehead before crawling onto the cot. Bucky scoots over and pushes Gale on his back, arranges him how he wants him. He smiles at him, slow and sweet and then plops down, lays his head down so it’s pillowed on Gale’s chest, arm thrown over his waist.

Gale turns his head so his lips rest on the crown of his head, nose in his damp curls and puts his arm around Bucky’s back to hold him in place as he goes boneless against him.

“Can you pet my hair again?” Bucky’s sleep-deep voice mumbles into his chest and Gale huffs a laugh. But he brings his other hand up and buries it in his curls, scratches at his scalp.

“Go to sleep Bucky,” he soothes.

“Love you, Buck.”

Gale smiles into his hair and holds him a little closer.

[drunkenskunk]

Something funny I've noticed while playing in the Lancer game @xeansicemane is running is that I am the odd-man (woman?) out in our merry little band of misfits. I am the only one in the SRT without an interesting backstory and/or potentially mission threatening Dark Secret.

We have:

- Fern Tiramisu, the fancy rat who has a job on Hell's Gate in a record store that sells more drugs than records. Except this is merely their cover story, as they are really an operative working for the Union Intelligence Bureau, sent to Calliope on a Top Secret Spy Mission. They've also discovered that parts of their memory have been wiped - by them - and are now trying to recover those memories and figure out why they'd do that to themselves in the first place.

- Cassilda Halloway, the very large, very Stronk, practically indestructible crocodile lady who is a champion in Calliope's fighting scene. Her first, last, and favorite solution for any and all problems is "Imma punch it REAL hard." She's hiding out in the system specifically to get away from her family, a bunch of wealthy and influential fucks back in the Karrakin Trade Baronies. Complicating things is that her brother is also here, for reasons unrelated, and has fallen in with the Faith of the One Plumed in Golden Flame, the local Apocalypse Cult.

- Pearce Collartug, a hyena hacker enby who is practically a JoJo character. They pilot a giant snake-shaped Balor, spending most of every fight covering everything that gets close (and lots more besides) in corrosive nanite swarms. In the last session, we all found out that they also used to be a member of The Circuit, a renegade HORUS cell pirate ring run by Triple Point, a Legion Fork NHP (Fern: "It's a fucking WHAT?!") The Illegal Shape has currently escaped its box and is now doing lots of spooky horror movie shenanigans inside a big asteroid.

- Agarin Raankell, a genetically modified supersoldier dragon man hailing from Clan Thunder Skink, and if you think that sounds a little like the Clans from Battletech: you are absolutely correct. Apparently where he came from, someone generations ago found a Battletech source book about the Clans and went "Hey, y'know what would be awesome?" Probably the most stable and level-headed member of the entire SRT, which is hilarious if you know anything about the Clans, but it does make him the de-facto squad leader in most situations involving direct combat. Also, he's psychically bonded with all of us. Because of Reasons.

And then you have my character.

- Scarlet. She's an alcoholic fuck-up.

Personally, I'm fine with it. My design doc for her boiled down to "What if me, but Girl, and also mech pilot?" She's a grunt. A humble footsoldier. Currently License Level 2, and still piloting her Everest. If this were Battletech, she'd probably drive a Hunchback. She's here to fight and get drunk, because she's no good at anything else.

I just think its hysterical that I'm the only one here not doing A Bit.

... come to think of it, I'm also the only one who hasn't been gene modded to be a Funny Animal Person lol

[thezombieprostitute]

Unwanted - Part 4

Summary: Your life is no longer yours. You've been forced into becoming a different species of human. Bought and paid for, what can you do but follow orders and obey your Alpha?

Warnings: Allusions to surgery, human trafficking, kidnapping; Angst; Depression; Suicidal thoughts. Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is described as big & tall, is female. No other descriptors used.

A/N2: This chapter is a bit longer because it's got a fair amount of exposition. Hope it isn't too boring!

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

True to her word, Nat let you stay held as long as you needed. You hadn't realized how touch starved you'd been. You were never much for physical contact before but Dr. Kemp had said that, part of being an Omega was an increased need for it. The yelling between Ari and Steve had either died down or moved elsewhere and you were feeling the need to get up and walk around.

Nat kept hold of your hand as she walked you out of the debriefing area. For someone so much smaller than you, she really had an air of strength that made you feel you could lean on her if you really needed to. Her status as being in charge of the Omegas really made sense.

"We're going to go for a gradual introduction into our community," she tells you when you enter a kitchen area. "You're an unmarked Omega who's hurting and our people are going to be compelled to help you, take care of you. It's a consequence of being a communal species; if you had a personal pack, there'd be less push because you have a trusted circle to take care of you. But since you're unmarked, if you're in trouble, everyone is going to want to help, much like when a child is crying or scared. A gradual introduction will be good so that you don't get overwhelmed and they can remember to restrain themselves. That said, you might still get a lot of unwanted attention. If you tell them 'no' and they still bother you, let me know. You could probably take care of yourself, but your scent indicates you're more the gentle, non-confrontational type."

"That could be the training they put me through," you counter.

She smiles, "your scent is a reflection of yourself, your core personality. It's currently mixed with others that indicate trauma, pain. But the underlying scent stays true."

"What is my scent? No one's ever told me."

"The underlying scent from you is a warm cinnamon, vanilla and brown sugar mixture," she smiles. "You're a real cinnamon roll."

"Huh, no wonder he didn't like it." Nat gives you a confused look. "Ari, when...when he bought me. He said he didn't want me because he didn't like my scent. He really seems the type to prefer spicy over sweet." You say that last part with a half smile, hoping she'll find it funny instead of sad.

She looks angry. "Give me a moment to add this to the list of Ari's bullshit." You nod and she pulls out her phone, typing up a message before putting it away. "He can be such an ass. But, good news, he's not your problem. If you never want to see him again, you won't. I'll make sure of it."

"That's...thank you," is all you can say as you lower your head.

"In the meantime, we've got a small apartment ready for you," she leads you onward. "It's not the nicest, but it's good for transitioning until we can find you a spot in our community. And no," she looks at you pointedly, "that doesn't mean get you a mate. If you find one, that's great. If you don't want one, that's great, too. I genuinely mean a role, a job, or something like that."

You breathe a sigh of relief and nod your understanding. Several hours ago you were resigned to a life as a sex slave, maybe even forced pregnancy. But the more time you spend with Natasha, the more you let yourself be hopeful for something better. No wonder her scent is like a river, providing life giving water while refusing to be stopped.

Stepping outside you look up and freeze. The stars, what few you can see past the lights of the building, are gorgeous. More importantly, they're another reminder of your freedom. And a reminder of all that you lost. You want to break down and cry again, but then Nat gets your attention.

"Hey, hey, look at me," she coos. "There's no way you'll get over this quickly. No one would ever expect you to. But I need you to keep walking with me to your apartment, okay? I don't want you out here too long and getting sick or attracting unwanted attention." You nod and continue walking. "Good news, I made sure your apartment has a skylight so you can keep looking at the stars, the moon, the clouds, even if you don't have the energy to go outside."

"Thank you," you whisper. Right now you can't imagine not wanting to be outside but you find yourself trusting her. Especially her kindness.

She takes you to what looks like a well kept motel. These must be the apartments. Sure enough, some of them have skylights while others don't.

Natasha walks up to one of the doors and hands you a key. "This apartment is meant to be a safe space for you so there's only one key and it will always belong to you."

"What about in case of emergency?"

"We break down the door or crash through a window."

"Fair." You grip the key tightly before turning to the door. You haven't had a space for yourself in so long but you're also worried this is going to be another cell. A much nicer cell, but a cell nonetheless. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you unlock the door and take a few steps inside. It's plain, but not unwelcoming. There's even a small vase with flowers on the table in the living/dining area. It's a decent size for a temporary apartment. It certainly looks nicer than your last one. The one you'll never see again.

As you're turning and looking at things you realize Nat has stayed at the door. "What are you doing?" you ask her.

"You haven't given me permission to enter your space," she says, matter-of-factly.

The hope you've been struggling with grows a little stronger with that.

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @peyton-warren;

@ronearoundblindly ; @startcarvingdarling: @dontbescaredtosingalong; @lolitsthings

[multifariousqueer]

hey ur writing a so good vould you write a smut with miles Morales( not 42) and reader using webs as hand cuffs, thanks <333

Ofc, babes!! IF ANY OF YALL HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THIS, SAY IT WITH ME KNOW. IF IT DON’T APPLY, LET IT FLY. LEAVE ME TF ALONE IF YOU HAVE ISSUES WITH MY SMUT BC I GENUINELY DO NOT GAF

A/N; Hey y’all. Keep requesting as always and if you have an issue with this particular piece of work or any of my other smuts, please feel free to politely fuck off 🥰(I’m sorry I’m so sick of the comments under my post y’all).

Warnings: imma try not to put too many bc Tumblr will shadowban this post and i gotta feed y’all, look at the request, b0nd@ge, fluff, br33ding,d1rty t@lk, nicknames, $mut,lmk if I missed some

As the rain pattered against your dorm window, you sipped from a mug of tea as you had just finished your English essay and designing Miles’ new web shooters. He was currently out using them and trying them out as you took notes on their flaws and how they could be fixed. Miles always told you not too worry about his web shooters and just focus on making his suit more durable and you always told him:

“I can do both, Spider-Man’s girlfriend/engineer always does both"

He would chuckle and laugh and say:

“As long as you’re happy, Mami."

Miles let you have a lot of creative freedom with his design seeing as you were also his “girl in the chair” assisting him on missions sometimes, designing/building him new tech, testing out new fluid combos and overall, keeping him safe. As much as Miles enjoyed you being active in his escapades, he worries that something will happen and you’ll be targeted and used for something horrible. You reassure Miles that this will never happen because there is nothing connecting you to his suit or machinery due to your advanced tracking system being untraceable by outside forces. You installed a firewall so potent, it took you three months of nonstop work to crack it. When you finally did, Miles and you had celebrated for a whole week.

As you enjoyed your unusual alone time, you waited for Miles to tap on your window and enter.

“Hey, Spidey. How’d they work?” you smiled at your tall boyfriend

“They held up, thats for sure. I had to stop a bank robbery and those guys had some pretty jacked up weapons but the shooters did their job. How are you amor?” Miles spoke

“I’m good. I pounded through my English essay and yours.” You said, grabbing his suit to tinker with some of the shooters leaving him bare in your room in only his mask

“What’s the essay on again?” He said, grabbing a shirt as you saw his visible goosebumps on his skin due to the sudden temperature change

“The effects of technology on modern civilization” you smiled at Miles

Miles chuckled at this

“Damn, they called you out, huh?” Miles said, climbing on your ceiling and attempting to web a bottle of water

“looking for something?” you smiled, waving his shooters at him

“yeah actually.” he smirked

“You’ll have them in a sec.” you said screwing something in

“try em now” you said, throwing them to Miles

Miles tried them and they worked perfectly, even better than you had anticipated. Of course, he tested them by webbing you to him.

“Thank you, mami. You always get me right.”

Miles pulled you in for a kiss. The kiss was long and passionate, you could tell he was incredibly grateful for the time and effort you put into him and his alter ego. The kiss could’ve lasted eternity as your mouths moved in perfect motion of each other before you pulled away:

“Should we try out new web formula?” you said barely above a whisper, your eyes fluttering open

Miles chuckled

“Nah, the current one will work fine for this”

Before you could ask what was going on, Miles webbed you to the wall. He turned you around so your stomach was against the wall. He made sure to strategically place the webs so that your hands and ankles were bonded extra tight to the wall.

“I’ve wanted to do this forever” Miles said

Miles webbed your mouth before you could say anything and started rubbing you through your clothes. He fondled your perfect tits and cursed under his breath:

“Shit I’m so lucky"

He sucked on your neck as little moans and whimpers escaped. He moved his hands under your clothes and ripped them in one swift motion:

“I’ll buy you a new top and shorts, mami” Miles said

You moaned out an “awww” but it was quickly interrupted by Miles rubbing your clit while leaving kisses along the back of your neck. You felt a knot in your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to moan out Miles’ name as you approached your orgasm.

You felt yourself twitch as you moaned and whimpered, tears falling from your face as Miles stopped and started palming and smacking your ass:

“You thought it was gonna be that easy, Mami? como si no me conocieras” Miles taunted in your ear

All you could do was just moan and cry as you were completely under his command. He then snaked two fingers inside of you and started prepping you for his dick:

"Es tan apretada, mi princesa” he said, lowly

Miles knew that when he spoke Spanish to you, you get flustered and shut down. You turn into a giggling mess and this situation was no different; It didn’t help because Miles was kissing your sweet spot on your neck causing you to feel overstimulated. Your legs shook and you were practically sobbing as your boyfriend abused your technology and your body:

“Fuckkk you wanna cum, Mami? You want me inside of you, princesa? I wanna fuck your tight little pussy so bad I’m gonna cum in your womb when I’m in there. You gonna let me? You gonna let me make you feel good, hm?” Miles taunted

“Mhmmm�� you mumbled. You nodded and turned to face him.

“If you weren’t webbed, I’d make you beg for it; but you’re formula makes it so that you won’t be begging for another three hours” Miles smirked

“mmmmmm” you mumbled

All this time, Miles was taunting your hole with his head, pushing it in and out and watching your hole drip with anticipation. You were sobbing and all you wanted was to feel full and to cum but Miles more interested in watching his powerful, smart girlfriend, fall apart on his cock like putty. The lewd sounds your pussy exuded were driving Miles crazy as he watched you beg for him with your eyes.

Miles pushed himself in and bottomed out. Your soft, plush walls sending his senses into overdrive as he forced himself to move and not just enjoy your pussy squeezing around him. The feeling of being full and the sight of Miles inside of you was enough to make your high return on steroids. Your legs shook as you moaned and whimpered alongside Miles’ own whimpers and groans. As you approached your highs, Miles’ thrusts became sloppier and harder as your body followed the rhythm of his thrusts and began to shake. Before you knew it, your eyes blurred, and you let out a long drawn out moan and a wave of pleasure came crashing down on you; had it not been for the webs, you would’ve fell to your knees.

Not long after, you felt Miles twitch and his movements stilled as he emptied his cum inside of you, his breathing became heavier as yours did too. Miles placed soft kisses along your figure and whispered praises against your body:

“Fuck you’re so beautiful, Mami. I love you so much. You did so well"

You felt yourself get weak in the knees but Miles had been supporting your stomach and your weight. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the man who emptied his cum into your womb but due to the webbing situation, you couldn’t. Miles felt this and he snapped the webs off of your hands and ankles in a flash. As you both were calming down, you saw a geometric blast of light before seeing Gwen’s face:

“WOAH! uh did I catch you guys at a bad time?” She asked awkwardly, covering her eyes.

You and Miles exchanged glances before he smirked and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore" | Part 4

Artist! Joel Miller × Florist! Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 28). Remember that "Bee" is reader's nickname, fluff, some feelings are being confessed, smut, angst, EXTREME ANGST. Okay, this is where everything goes to hell.

a/n: This one is more than 7k and is the longest piece of writing I've written here, so please, give it love🥺 Reblogs and comments are appreciated and help a lot be noticed by more people. I love this one, not the writing but the chapter as a piece? Sorry for any grammar mistakes and sorry in advance for the chapter.💌

masterlist

The next morning, it was Sunday and you thanked God for it. You were tired and the events from last night still lingered in your head, Joel, Connell's proposal, and the mix of feelings because of it. 

“Move to London?” you asked Connell, as if you couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth.

Connell looked at you with a patient and reassuring smile, understanding the magnitude of the decision he had just proposed. He reached out and gently took your hand, his touch comforting.

"Yes," he replied softly, "Moving to London would be a big step, and I don't want you to say yes right now. Take all the time you need to think about it. I'm willing to wait."

You nodded, appreciating his understanding and patience. The idea of moving to a new city, even for love, was overwhelming. You needed to consider your job, your life, and the ties you had built in your current home.

“Or is there someone?” He asked, “Oh my god”. He covered his face with his hands. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask about that”.

You graced a tiny smile, comforting Connell

“So, is there someone?” 

“It’s complicated.”

Connell's expression softened as he gazed into your eyes. "Bee, I want you to be happy. If there's someone else in your life, I'll respect that. But I just had to be honest with you about my feelings and my intentions."

You appreciated his understanding and his willingness to accept your situation, even if it was complex. The bond you had shared with Connell was strong, but your involvement with Joel had added layers of confusion and uncertainty to your life. It was a tangled web of emotions that you needed to untangle before making any decisions.

Connell leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Take all the time you need to figure things out, no matter what. You choose me or choose whoever the other guy is, I'll be for you."

With his reassuring words, you felt a weight lifted from your shoulders, knowing you had Connell's unwavering support, whatever decision you eventually made, and that made your heart feel at ease for once. 

Nevertheless, you didn´t remember what happened after that. You both drank wine, you mostly, and you knew that you drunkenly confessed everything about your and Joel's “agreement” to Connell.

You felt embarrassed. Having Connell back helped you to see things clearly, and with your birthday coming soon, you were even more stupid for doing this at your age.

You decided to go back to sleep to avoid overthinking it. However, your attempt to do so was interrupted by a knock on your front door. You groaned and glanced at the clock; it was eight in the morning, and you couldn't bear facing a person at this time. Nevertheless, and still feeling a bit dazed from last night's wine, you dragged yourself out of bed and stumbled to the front door. Last

When you opened the door, you were met with Joel standing there. He looked like he hadn't slept much either. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he appeared slightly disheveled as if he had rushed over to your place first thing in the morning. 

"Joel, what are you doing here so early?" you asked, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Joel hesitated before answering, his face displaying conflictive emotions "I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?"

You felt like this wasn’t a good idea right now, but you stepped aside, allowing him to enter your home.

 As he entered, you couldn't help but notice he was carrying two bags.

"I brought breakfast," he said, offering a faint smile.

You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this was an attempt to make amends after last night's dinner with Lauren, and you were on guard. You didn’t want to show him he was having an effect on your emotions. 

"Joel, what's all this?" you asked, gesturing at the bags as he placed them on the table.

Joel took a deep breath, his gaze on your eyes. "I know I messed up last night, and I'm really sorry for everything that happened. I was hoping we could talk and sort things out."

Your guard was still up, but the sound of his voice touched your heart. "Joel, last night..."

He cut you off gently, "I know, Bee, I know. I want to explain. Please, let me."

"I won't pretend that last night wasn't complicated," Joel began, keeping his gaze on the breakfast he was preparing. "I know I hurt you by having dinner with Lauren. But please believe me, it wasn't what it looked like."

You remained silent, letting him continue.

Joel's voice held a note of frustration as he explained, "Lauren and I have a history. Yes, but we have something in common and Sarah wants to know her mother. I can’t deny her that right.”

You wanted to believe him, but the doubts lingered. "Actions speak louder, you know?”

“I have nothing with her,” he said, widening his eyes as he looked into her eyes. 

You could see the sincerity in his eyes. You wanted to trust him, to believe that he had good intentions. It was a complicated situation, one you had never expected to find yourself in.

“So, what are you suggesting?" you asked, your voice cautious.

Joel sighed, with relief and anxiety in his expression. "I'm suggesting that we reevaluate our agreement. Maybe we can redefine our boundaries and communicate better about our feelings."

You considered his proposal, thinking about how this might change things between you two. Despite the pain and confusion, a part of you also cared about Joel. It wasn't easy to let go of something that had brought so much comfort into your life. 

“Okay” you smiled in agreement. Knowing you should tell him about Connell’s proposal, but you hadn’t the strength to do it. 

Joel mirrored your actions, and he turned back to the breakfast he was preparing; you felt the weight of the both of you on your shoulders. This situation was far from simple, and your heart was torn between wanting to trust Joel or starting a new life with somebody you already trusted.

“So, you woke up today and decided to come here?” you asked.

“Actually, yes, that’s what I did,” he laughed. “I didn’t know you were in a hangover though, sorry for that. Did you and Lily hang out last night?”

“Actually, I had dinner with Connell,” you said, anticipating his reaction.

“Your ex?”

“Yes.”

Joel's expression shifted, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he processed the information. He clearly hadn't expected that response.

"Dinner with Connell," he repeated, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

You nodded, feeling the need to explain. "He had something important to talk about, and he's leaving for London soon. It felt like the right thing to do."

Joel took a moment to collect his thoughts, then replied, "Well, I guess it's good you two talked. You should figure things out. I mean, he's your ex, and he's moving away."

His words were calm and understanding, which was a relief. You had braced for a more tense reaction.

"Yeah," you said, appreciating his mature response. "We're just trying to be on good terms before he leaves."

Joel gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful. The conversation had taken a different turn, and the complexities of your feelings and relationships weighed heavily on your mind. You hoped that both Joel and Connell could find their respective places in your life, but the path ahead was far from clear.

You just omitted the part when he asked you to leave with him. 

Joel gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful. The conversation about Connell hung in the air and Joel decided to break the tension by returning to breakfast. He finished preparing the meal, and the two of you sat down to eat. The atmosphere was lighter, and you both made an effort to talk about less complicated topics, sharing stories and laughs over your food.

You still found it funny how you both went from not talking at all to talking about anything. 

After breakfast, as you helped Joel with some preparations for his upcoming exhibition, you couldn't help but think about the new direction your life was taking. Joel had proposed reevaluating your agreement, and Connell had asked you to go with him to London. The decisions ahead were daunting, and you knew that clarity would be hard to come by.

Joel was also deep in thought as he arranged some artwork, and eventually, he broke the silence. "Bee, I know things have gotten complicated, but I genuinely want to make this work.”

His words were sincere, and you could sense his determination. It was a lot to process, but you couldn't deny that you also cared about Joel. The choices you had to make in the coming days would be defining moments in your life, and you hoped you could find a path that would lead to happiness and fulfillment, no matter how complex it might be.

With your birthday coming in three days, you felt that your new year of life would be different. 

The timing couldn't have been more challenging as Joel's upcoming art exhibition was just around the corner. The preparations for the event were in full swing, and you were doing your best to help him with the decoration and catering.

The gallery was buzzing with activity. Paintings were being hung, sculptures were being arranged, and the space was being transformed into a captivating display of Joel's artwork. You couldn't help but be impressed by his talent and dedication to his craft.

As for your "relationship," you and Joel were navigating it with care. It was a tricky balance of pretending to be a couple while not letting your true feelings get in the way. Sometimes, the lines blurred, and it became challenging to differentiate between the act and reality.

You worked closely with Joel to ensure that the gallery's decor matched his artistic vision. Together, you chose color schemes and hung string lights to create a warm and inviting atmosphere. The collaboration brought you closer, and as you worked side by side, there were moments when you exchanged genuine smiles and shared laughter that felt far from fake.

Convincing everyone about your relationship was an ongoing challenge. You played the part of the affectionate girlfriend, exchanging hugs, kisses, and sweet nothings with Joel. The outside world saw the two of you as a couple, but you knew the truth lay somewhere between reality and pretense.

As the event drew near, the question that remained was whether you could maintain the charade or if it would evolve into something real.

The day of your birthday dawned, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. The recent developments in your life, your family and friends’ birthday wishes, and Joel’s upcoming art exhibition made this birthday unlike any other.

As you made your way to the gallery to leave the usual cup of coffee for Joel, you felt a sense of excitement. You couldn't deny that you enjoyed spending time with him, but you also knew that this fake relationship was getting more complicated by the day due to feelings getting involved. 

When you arrived at the gallery, you were greeted by the soft glow of string lights and the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee. The space looked even more beautiful now with Joel's artwork on display. It was evident that he had put his heart and soul into his work.

Just as you set the coffee on the table, Joel appeared, a warm smile on his face. He walked over to you and pulled you into a gentle hug, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Happy birthday, Bee," he whispered.

The simple gesture was filled with genuine warmth, and it touched your heart. You felt your cheeks blushing at his touch. 

"Thank you, Joel," you replied with a smile.

Joel gestured to a small gift wrapped in a simple but elegant box. "I got you a little something," he said, his eyes filled with anticipation.

You accepted the gift and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a beautiful necklace. It was a delicate piece of jewelry with a pendant in the form of a flower that resembled his art and your essence together. You were taken aback by the beauty and thoughtfulness of the gift.

"It's beautiful, you said, genuinely touched by his gesture. "Thank you, Joel."

He smiled, and for a moment, the line between pretense and reality blurred again. It was a birthday gift that felt meaningful, not just because of the necklace, but because it came from someone who had become an important part of your life.

Joel pulled you into another hug, and you realized that, despite all the complexities and pretense, this connection was becoming real. 

"Thank you for this," you said, gesturing to the necklace. "It means a lot to me."

Joel took your hand and looked into your eyes; his gaze was sincere. "You mean a lot to me."

Your breath sucked in, leaving you breathless as his words hung in the air. You knew that this fake relationship had evolved into something more, something that was real.

Joel's hand in yours felt warm and reassuring. As you stood together in the gallery, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the future, even if it remained uncertain. Your birthday had taken an unexpected turn, and you had a feeling that more surprises were yet to come.

"The gallery is closed for the morning because we have someone to celebrate today," Joel said with a playful grin.

You chuckled; the weight of the world momentarily lifted. "Alright, what's the plan?"

Joel leaned in and whispered, "I have a few more surprises up my sleeve. But first, let's enjoy some coffee together."

........................

The day moved forward in a whirlwind of excitement and celebration. Joel had arranged a surprise birthday party for you in the gallery. Your friends, including Lily, and even Sarah, were all there to celebrate with you. It was a beautiful gathering filled with laughter and warmth, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the people in your life.

Joel played the perfect host, making sure everyone felt welcome and comfortable. You saw how he effortlessly blended with your friends. His charm and genuine smiles seemed to win everyone over.

As the evening progressed, the party was in full swing, but Joel leaned in to whisper in your ear, "I have one more surprise for you. Why don't you come to my place tonight? Tommy won’t be there and Sarah will stay with Lauren tonight, and I was hoping for some alone time."

You couldn't help but smile,"I'd love to."

Joel's eyes sparkled with anticipation, and you realized that there was more of him that you hadn't fully explored. 

The clock ticked away the hours, and eventually, it was time to leave the party behind. You said goodbye and made your way to Joel's place, with him by your side, and the atmosphere completely changed after that.

When you arrived at Joel's home, it welcomed you with the soft lighting and cozy ambiance in his living room. Set the perfect mood for what was to come. Joel's living room was bathed in the soft glow of light, and you couldn't help but feel a warm sensation at the gesture. He excused himself for a moment and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you wondering what other surprises he might have in store.

As you sat there, Joel returned with a small tray of desserts. On it, there were beautifully plated mini cheesecakes topped with fresh berries, and a bottle of your favorite wine was chilling in an ice bucket nearby.

"This is the second part of your birthday surprise," Joel said with a mischievous smile. "I thought we could end the night with something sweet."

Your heart swelled with affection for his thoughtfulness. As you indulged in the delicious treats and sipped wine, the evening took on an even more romantic tone. The intimate setting, combined with Joel's genuine affection, made your birthday feel like something out of a fairytale.

You found yourself drawn to Joel's eyes, and he to yours. It was a moment when pretense gave way to something authentic, something that had been growing between you for the last two months. With every shared smile and every tender touch, the unspoken emotions between you became stronger.

Joel reached out and took your hand, his fingers gently tracing circles on your palm. The atmosphere was charged with unspoken desire, and it felt like the perfect time to take things to the next level, to explore what was real and true between you. 

“Bee,” he said, looking straight into your eyes. 

They were focused, eye to eye with his lips close to yours. 

You were completely alone. You were in his house and both of your worlds were mixing together to become one. And your heart pulsed at the sound of the nickname he gave you years ago, something that seemed foreign back in those days, but now the tone lacing the sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Happy birthday, Bee” he smiled, attaching his lisp to yours for a passionate kiss, flipping you over so he could be over you.

After that, everything happened so fast. Neither of you knew when you got rid of your clothes, but there was too much desperation in your touch, you wanted to see the way his fingers could make a mark on you, tracing lines of invisible traces over your body.

He was hovering over you, meeting your lips in a passionate kiss. He was in the right between your legs where you wanted him the most now. 

He detached his lips from yours for a moment to look down at you for a moment. To admire the features of your face, and the nature of your body being displayed just for him right now. You felt the crimson color rushing up to your checks and for a moment you felt embarrassed under his stare, but he smiled at you.

“You look beautiful”. He swallowed hard, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He kissed you again, slipping his tongue past your lips, gasping when he felt your fingers running your fingertips across his bare chest, tracing the lines of a map leading to where you couldn’t stop.

With one of your hands, you pulled him down by his neck to hold you against your lips again. Once you tasted them, you couldn’t get over the taste of them over yours, and you couldn’t get over the whimpers he left in your mouth. 

His hands on your tights only increased the sparks in the place you wanted him the most, you wanted to follow the path even when you knew it was leading to a treacherous destination. 

You continued kissing slowly as he caressed your thighs, as he wanted to worship your body and devour every single sound coming out from your mouth. He kissed you down over your neck, kissing, nipping your skin between his teeth.

And God, he loved the way you were making him feel. The fact this time was different to that night in the gallery some nights ago. At this moment, you weren’t driving for only passionate reasons, but for caring feelings for each other. You weren’t in a rush and that turned him on. He was hard for you and he wanted to meet where religion was, between your thighs. 

Both of you gasped out loud the second he started to push slowly inside you. His hands reached for yours to interlock them together as he kissed you with softness, whispering “You’re so beautiful like this”. He was hypnotized by the way you were nervously laughing as you tossed your head back in pleasure. He bit your neck, causing your hands to follow their way up to his neck and his hands roamed down all of your body without a layer of clothes on you, focusing on every thrust, going deep to make sure he was making you feel good. 

You opened your eyes to stare back at him, looking completely focused on you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as his hands caressed your breasts as he kept devouring your lips, your back arched followed by a moan against his lips. Every thrust felt so good you couldn’t help but feel you were in heaven. You could feel you were getting close as you squeezed him and you kept your eyes locked on each other. He pushed faster, with one hand caressing your cheek and the other holding your leg to ensure you fell apart. 

The noises you made drove him crazy, feeling himself coming to the edge of the cliff. He wanted to look at you under him as you came, and with a loud gasp, it happened and he did it at the same time, falling over your bare chest, with your heartbeats becoming one.

Yes, you had sex and you crossed the line you couldn’t, but at that moment, you didn’t care.

You sighed softly under him, and Joel raised his head to look at you, showing him a cute smile that he wasn’t tired of, and you kissed him on the lips. 

“I love you,” you said tiredly before falling asleep.

I love you.

Those three words were echoing in the shadows of his mind. His expression hardened and he felt his blood rushing. He couldn't be sure, but the impact it had on him was undeniable.

Now in the stillness of the room, he looked down at you, nestled in his arms, 

He wanted to respond, to say those words back to him, but he hesitated. The weight of his complicated past with Lauren, the confusion of your fake relationship, and the promise you both had just broken kept him silent.

A few hours later, you woke up alone in Joel’s bed. You can't ignore the heavy feeling nestling on your chest. You made your way to the living room, and you found him sitting on the couch, his gaze lost in the soft light of the lamp.

You walked over and sat down beside him. “Couldn’t sleep?" you asked softly, your voice trembling.

And the way your voice sounded made Joel’s heart break. 

 Joel sighed, his shoulders slumping. He knew he couldn't keep you in the dark any longer. "Bee, I need to be honest with you," he said, his voice low and heavy. "This... relationship we've had, it's been confusing for me. I'm not sure where my feelings stand, and I can't keep pretending."

You listened attentively, your heart pounding. The room seemed to close in on you, and the silence felt suffocating.

Joel finally met your gaze, his eyes filled with regret. "I need to figure things out, Bee. I'm sorry, but I can't continue like this. I can't say those words back to you. Not yet"

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as the weight of his crashed down on you. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as the weight of his confession crashed down on you. The vulnerability of those three words that you had uttered at the peak of the moment was now the breaking point between both of you. 

Joel continued, "We should end this, Bee, for both our sakes. This... fake relationship isn't fair to you” 

“But...but you said you cared about me” you whispered.

Trembling, Joel nodded his head as he reached for your hands, but you stood up from the couch to hide the tears streaming down your cheeks. Joel couldn’t help but feel he was already losing you.

He stood up, quickly grabbing your arms, and tears flickered in his eyes. But she refused to look at him at this moment. 

“I care about you, Bee…You have to trust me, but I-” 

“Do you love Lauren?”  you cut him. 

You could see Joel was taken aback by your question. 

“Bee, no. Look at me…I don’t love her” he said as he shook his head fast as if he was trying to stop the breaking pieces falling from you. 

“But you don’t love me either,” you said, taking a step back to keep yourself away from Joel. “All you wanted from me was to take me to your bed, Joel.” 

He tilted his head to have a glimpse of your face. When you looked up, your eyes shone with the tears dancing inside them. Joel took a step closer to you, holding your face and pressing his forehead against yours. 

“No,” he said immediately “Bee, you have been the best thing that crossed my path-” 

“Do you love me?” you asked in a breathy voice with the last strength you had left. That’s the last answer you need to prevent your falling.  

Your question hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable. When you demanded to know if he loved you, you were met with silence. 

The pain in your eyes was undeniable, and in that moment, you felt nothing but shame and heartache as he held your face in his hands, still keeping your foreheads together as if he was holding onto the last moments, he was going to have you this close.

Joel's heart shattered along with yours, and yet, he remained silent. 

“You made me promise not to love you, Bee,” he said, as his voice didn’t have strength left.

“This is over, Joel,” you whispered. 

Joel felt his soul leaving his body when you removed both of his hands from your face.

At that moment, your heart was glass and he dropped it.

And yet, he didn’t speak. 

He was still there in the middle of his living room, not knowing what to do and how to act. The truth was that he did love you, but he had let his own demons and insecurities build a wall between you and him, and now it was too late to turn back time.

He had built a life with tall banners around his family, to protect them and himself from the people coming into his life. He stopped believing in love and fairy tales the day he and Sarah were abandoned by Lauren, and he didn’t let another one come closer to him in years until you settled next to him with flowers and effortless smiles. 

He found himself smiling at you the very first days, until a bouquet of flowers and a card came to his office, a “gift” from you, and he thought you had second intentions, so he dropped the flowers and the card in the trash. He didn't know, but that was the very first time he broke your heart.

You, on the other hand, were crestfallen when you found the flowers and the card in the trash. You thought you could have brightened Joel’s days with the gesture, not knowing his real behavior. That time, the rejection hurt, and it made you question what was wrong with you. 

That day you stopped talking to him, only keeping a polite distance, and your smiles became more reserved once he appeared in your sight. 

And you become “enemies” after that. 

And in the middle of those memories, Joel lost track of time. The door fell shut. You were gone. 

Once you stepped out of Joel’s house, a sob escaped from your lips, and a heavy feeling settled in your heart. You couldn’t bear the feeling of humiliation consuming you. 

You didn’t have a destination in mind, the heavy steps over cobblestones were breaking the silence of the still night. You were walking in a world that felt foreign and unwelcoming, navigating through a tumultuous mix of feelings you thought you had never had to experience. 

You didn’t know what to do or who to call, you didn’t want to bother Lily because it was one in the morning and she would probably have slept, and you couldn’t face her after you promised her you would keep your heart safe from breaking. 

You thought about calling Connell, but you didn’t want to drag him into this mess. You felt so humiliated and broken on your own birthday night and everything seemed to be falling apart. 

You walked for what felt like hours, unable to find a direction. The tears you had been holding back began to flow freely down your cheeks.

And as the night deepened, you found yourself standing by a park bench, your legs finally giving in to exhaustion. You sat down, looking at the distance, lost in the memories of your time with Joel. And what started in a distant room ended up with you crying on a parking bench in the middle of the night. The pain was unbearable, and the feeling of abandonment cut deep to the bone.

You just couldn’t make up your mind about the thought of a person coming into your life, making you navigate through a lake of turbulent and magical emotions, painting your darker skies in vibrant colors just for them to walk over your own peace of mind, leaving scars they promised they would never leave on you.

Sitting on the park bench in the darkness, you felt vulnerable. The weight of the pain enveloped you. You knew you couldn't stay there forever, but you also couldn't bear to go back to your empty apartment, the place where you had shared moments with Joel.

In your fragile state, you reached for your phone and dialed Connell's number. Your heart ached, and the tears in your voice were unmistakable when he picked up.

Connell's voice was filled with concern when he said your name "What's wrong?"

The sound of his voice provided a small comfort, and you tried your best to steady your emotions. "Connell, I... I don't know where to go, and I didn't want to be alone. Something happened, and I—"

“Hey, easy. Breathe” Connell's reassuring tone came through the phone, "Just tell me where you are and I’ll be there."

You sent him the location of the park, and he promised to be there soon. While you waited, you let yourself cry softly, finding solace in the idea that someone who truly cared for you was on their way.

Connell arrived a short while later, and he wrapped his arms around you, offering comfort in his embrace. He listened as you cried on his shoulder while you tried to erase your memories and take away the pain. 

The next morning, as the sun's first rays peeked through the curtains, Tommy walked into the living room expecting to find you and Joel making breakfast together. 

Once he stepped inside, beaming, he found Joel in the same spot as last night. 

“Bee is still sleeping?” Tommy joked.

But as soon as he saw the state of Joel sitting on the couch, his eyes bloodshot, and an empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, he knew something was wrong.

"Joel?" Tommy asked, taking a seat beside him.

Joel finally turned to his brother; his voice heavy with remorse. "I ruined her.” 

Tommy had been through his fair share of tough times with Joel. The first time was the day Lauren walked out of his life, leaving him alone with a baby, Sarah, without any explanation, but now, he could sense the gravity of the situation. Joel was seriously broken this time. 

“What happened?” Tommy asked.

Joel didn't reply immediately, instead choosing to take a long, deep breath.

“What happened?” He urged.

Joel told him the events from last night, how you told him you loved him, how he couldn’t say those words back, and the moment he had broken your heart. As he spoke, the tears welled up in his eyes once again. It was the first time Tommy had seen Joel this torn. 

Tommy let out a deep sigh, and he placed a reassuring hand on Joel's shoulder. "Brother, please tell me you didn’t let her go home alone and break down on her birthday night.” 

Not until then did it occur to Joel that something could have happened to you. He stood fast and ran to his bedroom, to grab his cellphone and call you, but Tommy stopped him before he could do anything. 

“Easy Joel”, he said, reassuring him “She is not going to answer your calls right now.”

Tommy's words only deepened the weight of Joel's remorse. He dropped his phone back onto the coffee table and clenched his fists, feeling utterly helpless. "What have I done, Tommy? I love her” 

Tommy continued to be the voice of reason. "You need to give her space, Joel. Pushing her right now might only make things worse. Let her cool off, and then you can talk to her when she's ready. But you need to give her time to heal."

Joel knew Tommy was right, but it was excruciating to think about leaving you in pain. He shook his head "I’m going to her place," he murmured, already walking past Tommy. 

He couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt and feeling abandoned. Tommy understood his brother's pain but also recognized that this might not be the best time to confront you, especially if you were still reeling from the heartbreak.

"Joel, I get it, but you need to be cautious," Tommy advised as he followed Joel to the door. "Let her have some time to herself. She needs to process what happened, and then you can talk."

Joel turned to Tommy; his eyes filled with desperation. "I can't just leave her like this, Tommy. I need to make this right."

 "You should have seen her face” he murmured; his voice heavy with regret. 

“Listen, I can call Lily and ask about Bee, okay?” Tommy said.

Joel offered a small nod in response, his thoughts consumed by the image of your heartbroken face. As Tommy made the call to Lily, Joel's mind raced with remorse, knowing he had caused you pain.

after a brief conversation with Tommy, and turned to Joel. "She's with Connell. It seems like that's where she went last night."

Joel felt a pang in his chest, knowing that you had sought solace with Connell. He couldn't help but wonder how you had ended up there and what you might be telling Connell about what happened.

As the morning sun began to filter through Connell's windows, you found yourself sitting in his cozy living room. On the previous night, your birthday had ended badly, but Connell's presence had provided you with some sense of comfort. 

Connell, always thoughtful and caring when it came to you, had made you a cup of tea, which you held in your hands as you stared out the window. The silence between you two was comfortable as if words were unnecessary. 

After a while, Connell cleared his throat and said, " I’m not sure what happened last night but I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

You turned to him, your eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Connell”, you gave him a small smile.

Connell nodded in understanding. Then, he reached behind him and held a small gift-wrapped box out to you. “I got you a little something for your birthday. I hope it brings a smile to your face."

You accepted the gift with a warm smile, feeling grateful for Connell's existence. Unwrapping it carefully, you discovered a beautiful, handcrafted necklace inside. It was an elegant piece of jewel with a delicate design.

"It's stunning," you whispered.

 Connell chuckled softly. "You used to love unique and handmade jewelry, so I thought this might be something you'd like. I bought it in London a few years ago."

As you held the necklace in your hands, you felt a surge of emotion. Connell's kind gesture and the beauty of the necklace warmed your heart and provided a much-needed distraction from the turmoil of the previous night. You thanked him sincerely, realizing that you were fortunate to have him who genuinely cared about you. 

Memories of your past relationship with Connell rushed back to you. There was a time when you and Connell had been a strong team, and those feelings and connection you had shared, and it had been an important part of your life. But that had changed, and you had moved on.

As you sat there with Connell, the temptation to lean in and kiss him was strong, but it was Joel's face and his presence that you couldn't forget. You knew that, deep down, your heart belonged to him.

With a heavy heart, you offered a grateful smile to Connell and thanked him once again for his kind gesture.

"Connell, thanks for your gift” you said, offering a sincere smile. "But I also wanted to talk to you about something important."

Connell nodded; his blue eyes focused on you. "Of course, What's on your mind?"

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "This job in London…

Connell leaned back in his chair, looking at you attentively.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before asking, "Connell, have you made a decision about that job?"

Connell sighed and leaned in closer, his voice low and sincere. "I have decided to go and I know I asked you to come with me, but you and Joel- “

“I’ll go with you” you said.

Connell's eyes widened with surprise, “Are you sure about this? It's a big step, and I don't want you to feel rushed or pressured into it just because you’re hurt.” 

You met Connell's gaze. "Connell, this isn't just about being hurt; but about an opportunity to start a fresh life. I want to be with you in London."

Connell's surprise gave way to a warm, grateful smile. He squeezed your hand gently and leaned in closer. " I can't express how happy that makes me. We're going to have a wonderful time in London, I promise."

Connell pulled you into a warm embrace, your heart should have been soaring with joy, but a shadow of doubt crept in. At that moment, with his arms wrapped around you and your future looking bright, you couldn't help but think about Joel.

Joel, who had broken your heart. Joel, with whom you had shared an intimate connection that you could never forget. Despite your determination to start fresh, the memories of your time with Joel, the emotions you had felt, and the connection you shared with him echoed in your mind.

Connell pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to have any doubts."

You forced a smile, feeling a sense of guilt for letting your thoughts wander. "I'm sure, Connell. Let's make this move and embrace our future together."

A week later, after the painful night with you, Joel was in the gallery, his heart heavy with regret as he finished the final details of his upcoming exhibition. The art pieces were carefully arranged, the lighting adjusted, and he scrutinized every corner, but it was a task that felt empty without you by his side.

He knew, deep down, that you wouldn't be there for the exhibition. The absence of your presence was like a void in the room, and the pain of knowing he had pushed you away was a constant ache in his chest.

No flowers from you this time, not the sound of your laugh echoing through the halls and he felt he was dying inside. 

In the midst of his preparations, Lauren was in the gallery with him. He told her you and him had broken up and it seemed like she was trying to comfort him somehow as she took advantage of Sarah as “something” they had in common. Her presence was a reminder of the choices he had made, and it infuriated him. Joel couldn't help but glance out of the gallery window toward your flower shop. It was a habit, one that he couldn't seem to break, even though he knew it was over between you two.

It wasn’t real, he thought, but for him and you it became the most adventurous story of love. 

"Why is she gifting flowers today?" Joel asked, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice as he saw a group of people gathered outside your shop.

Lauren turned her gaze to the window, following his line of sight. She sighed softly and said, "You don't know?"

Joel shook his head. "What should I know?"

"I think she's selling the place," Lauren explained. Her tone was gentle, and she appeared concerned about the situation.

Joel's brow furrowed as he processed the information. Your flower shop, a place that had meant so much to you, was being sold. The weight of the recent events pressed down on him even more. It was yet another consequence of his actions, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was yet another step in the direction of erasing him from your life.

"Can you excuse me for a second?" he told Lauren, deciding he was going to confront you.

As he left the gallery, Joel's steps were determined, and his thoughts were a mess of remorse, regret, and a glimmer of hope. He knew he had to speak with you, to clear the air, even though he wasn't sure where your conversation might lead.

Joel's heart raced as he approached your flower shop. The sight of it, now decorated with flowers, brought back memories of the moments he had spent there with you. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door, his eyes scanning the interior for a sign of your presence.

"Is it true?" Joel's voice, which had been silent for a week, sent shivers down your spine, memories of his touch still fresh on your skin.

"What's true?" you asked without looking at him.

"That you're selling your shop?"

You nodded, unable to meet his searching gaze.

"Is it because of me?"

"Joel, please," you pleaded, your voice edged with a mix of frustration and pain. "Just let it go."

"Please, just answer me," he implored.

"No," you replied, the weight of your decision heavy in the air. "It's not because of you. I just need a fresh start."

He countered, his voice filled with doubt, "And you think moving to another part of town will give you that?"

"I'm not moving to another part of town," you said, your voice unsteady.

"What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, and your gaze met his, knowing this would be the final blow. "I'm leaving."

Joel's heart sank, a heaviness that seemed insurmountable. He didn't want to hear the rest, but you continued.

"I'm leaving to London with Connell."

"No—"

"No, Joel, you can't," you replied firmly “You can't come here and tell me what I should do. You have no right."

His frustration was rising, "You're escaping. Can you be more childish?"

 Joel's world crumbled around him. The woman he was in love with, the one who had brought color and life back into his existence, was leaving. And worse, she was leaving for London with her ex-boyfriend. 

You chuckled bitterly, the pain in your heart mingling with your exasperation. "Goodbye, Joel." You said, signaling the door. 

"Bee! Listen to me!" He shouted.

But you were done listening. The years of mixed emotions, the moments of joy and confusion, had finally boiled over. You had made your decision, and you couldn't bear to keep going in circles with him.

"You were my biggest disappointment, Joel."

With those words, you turned away from him and walked behind the counter door, leaving Joel standing there, with a heavy heart.

At that moment, Joel realized the depth of his mistakes and the price he had paid for being an idiot. He felt a burning need to make things right, but it was already too late. Your departure for London with Connell was the beginning of a chapter in your life that he could no longer be a part of. 

With a heavy heart, Joel turned away from the flower shop and walked back to the gallery, his steps heavy with the weight of what he had lost.

And you were left there crying while losing the grip of the hand of the man you felt you would be getting over your whole life. 

a/n: Okay, sorry again. But what's going to happen next? 👀

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3

[heliads]

sorry to send in two requests but if you've got the time Luke Patterson x reader where she is his tutor for English or something and he develops a crush, so even when he understands the stuff she's teaching him he pretends to be confused so that the tutoring sessions last longer. And then one day he gets a good grade and she's proud of him but that means the sessions are over so he builds up the courage to ask her out? You can put this at the bottom of the list or not even write it because I know how swamped your requests get, but ily.

do not apologize for two requests!! my blog exists for you!! and jatp s2 may be dead but my feelings for that show are not. xoxo

masterlist

Luke Patterson is currently fighting a one-man war against his English class, and he is losing. Badly. This was not supposed to be his problem class, he was thinking the biggest struggle would be math or science, but surprise surprise, there’s no such thing as a class you can just skate through. He tried to skate through English. He tried really, really hard, but instead of Spark Notes-ing his way through whatever classic book they threw his way, Luke’s staring at a bright red D on his latest essay.

This would happen to be the most recent essay they were assigned, the one Luke pushed off until the last minute because he was too invested in getting some good songs down on paper. He hadn’t meant to procrastinate, he never does, it’s just that whenever Luke had a spare hour or two, it’s always far more tempting to head out to the studio and mess around with some chord progressions than to do homework.

This essay had gone just like all the other ones so far this year. The book had been assigned, the essay followed not soon after, and Luke told himself that he was going to start it on time for a change. The only problem was that he came home late that day after a shift at his job, so he couldn’t start it that day, and then he was studying for a test the next day, and after that he was working on songs. Before he knew it, it was the night before and he was speed writing to get everything down in time. Luke doesn’t even think he had time to proofread before turning in that mess.

So yeah, he shouldn’t really be surprised about this grade in particular. Still, he isn’t pleased about it. He doesn’t want to see the look on his parents’ face when he dodges another question about his grades, nor listen to all the other kids in his class talk about how easy that essay prompt was. Everything just makes him feel worse.

And, if Luke’s day couldn’t get any better, his English teacher pulls him aside after class to talk about it.

“I noticed your last few assignments haven’t been going as expected,” she says sympathetically, “is there anything you want to tell me about that?”

There’s a lot Luke wants to tell her, such as the fact that this class is dry as a saltine and twice as bland. They’ve spent the last few classes just going over social hierarchies around the time when the book was written, talk about boring. If Luke wanted to study history, he’d read a textbook.

He can’t say all that without damaging his final grade even more, though, so Luke plasters on a grin and does his best impression of an earnest student who’s just had a bad string of luck. “Not really, I’ve just been so busy recently that I didn’t have enough time to really ponder the prompt, you know?”

Usually, this is Luke’s best strategy for getting out of these kinds of nonsense conferences. He’ll whip out a few key words like ‘time commitments’ and whatnot and his teachers will fall for it every time.

He might have done this too often, though, because his teacher just nods and refuses to let him go. “That makes sense to me. Do you think it would help to spend a little more time exploring the prompt or connecting the book to the essay topics?”

“Sure,” Luke says vaguely. He’s only half paying attention; he just saw Reggie outside the door mouthing the words what did you do?? as dramatically as he could.

The teacher looks pleased by this. “That’s what I thought. I’ve gone ahead and signed you up for some tutoring sessions, you’ll start this afternoon after school.”

Luke blinks. “Wait, what?” Clearly, he hasn’t been paying attention nearly enough. Since when was tutoring on the table?

The teacher spreads her hands. “You need a little more help and organization to stay on track. Tutoring is the perfect answer to this.”

“Is it?” Luke asks feebly.

“Absolutely,” the teacher decides, and that’s that. Luke tries to wheedle his way out of it through repetition of how busy he is, like, all the time, but it doesn’t matter. She’s caught him in a half-lie and there’s nothing he can do to avoid it.

Reggie’s waiting for Luke outside the door when he finally leaves. “What happened in there?”

“Pure misery,” Luke groans, and contemplates giving himself a concussion by ‘accidentally’ falling down the stairs so he can go home without having to go to tutoring.

Unfortunately, Reggie enlists Alex in keeping Luke free of head trauma, and so he finds himself in an empty classroom later that afternoon, mournfully watching all of the other students leave the school with no doubt wonderful plans awaiting them.

Luke’s just starting to wonder if his tutor isn’t going to show up after all (after fifteen minutes, he’s legally allowed to leave, right) when someone slides into the seat in front of him.

“Sorry about being late,” they gasp, “I just found out I was doing this like ten minutes ago.”

Luke breaks his desolate stare out the window to glance at his tutor and instantly, he feels the crushing weight of shame bear down on him tenfold. It would have been one thing to have a total stranger be his tutor, someone Luke could avoid looking at in the hallways and never speak to again, but he knows this girl. More importantly, he’s thought she was cute for at least the last four years.

This is the worst case scenario, then. Y/N L/N is smart, she’s pretty, and judging by the fact that Luke always sees her in a group of friends laughing at her jokes, she’s funny, too. Definitely someone Luke would want to impress through gigs or shows instead of, say, his crumbling English grades.

“I’m Y/N,” she says, and Luke realizes that she’s probably been waiting for him to say something. Great, he can’t even introduce himself properly.

“Luke,” he answers, “but you probably knew that already.”

Y/N laughs, and judging by the slightly manic tone behind it, she’s just about as composed about the whole thing as he is. That makes him settle slightly in his chair, lowering his guard. “I was told that I would be tutoring you when I was trying to leave class. Ms. Brown pulled me aside when the bell rang and told me about it.”

“That makes two of us,” Luke grumbles.

The corners of Y/N’s lips quirk up before she manages to tamp them down again, and if Luke weren’t totally out of his mind, he might even say that Y/N has the same attitude towards their English teacher as he does. That would certainly make this whole tutoring experience a lot more interesting.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat in an attempt to sound official, “you wanted to talk about essay pointers, right?”

Luke starts to say something about how he didn’t want any of this, actually, but Y/N arches a brow and he relents. “Yeah, essay stuff. The last one didn’t go over too hot.”

Y/N tilts her head to the side, contemplating this. “Did you agree with her grading?”

“Yeah,” Luke admits, “she wasn’t wrong to mark me down, I kind of did it the night before in one sitting.”

Y/N frowns. “Really? Why’d you put it off so long? I thought you liked writing. Whenever I see you, you’re always jotting something down in that notebook of yours.”

Luke grins. “You’ve been watching me? That’s creepy, you know.” He’s obviously holding back a laugh, though, so the comment has no trace of a barb.

Y/N rolls her eyes, although her face looks a little hot at the moment. “Just answer the question.”

“Alright,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender, “you’re right, I do like writing.”

“Then why wait until the last minute to do the essay? I mean, I get not having a ton of time to work on assignments, but if you really do enjoy writing, it shouldn’t be all that bad, right?”

Luke groans. “ This is different. It’s not fun writing,” he tries to excuse himself.

It sounds bad even to him. Already, Luke can see how this is going to play out– she’ll laugh at him, maybe, say that someone who just got a grade like him can’t possibly be thinking about writing and fun in any way at all. She doesn’t, though. Instead, she nods and smiles at him. A real smile. Not mocking in any way.

“What is fun writing, then?” She asks.

Luke blinks in surprise. “Well, writing songs is fun, I guess,” he stammers, “stuff that actually matters, you know? All these essays are the exact same, but songs are all different. That’s why I care about them and not some pointless paper.”

Y/N nods. “That makes sense to me. So you release music, right?”

Luke isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but he’s perfectly happy to talk about music instead of that offensive red scribble all over his paper, so he plays along. “Yeah, me and my band. We try to, at least.”

“Have you ever gotten a review that bothered you? Not because they didn’t like it, but because they disliked your songs for the wrong reason? Like you had a whole story in mind for your album but the critics just ignored it?” She prompts him.

“Yeah,” Luke says, eyes widening with irritation, “Man, it’s so annoying. You go to all the trouble of writing out these ideas, and you make them have a really good meaning, too, and then it’s like they never read it at all. It makes me so mad sometimes, I want to write a column or something in response about how they totally missed my point.”

“Like, say, an argumentative essay about the real strengths of your chosen piece of writing?” Y/N says as casually as she can.

Luke’s about to argue and say that’s not like this at all, but on second thought, it is. It totally is. “Wait, you’re right. I never thought about it like that, but you’re right. Y/N L/N,” he decides on the spot, “I really like you.”

She grins back at him. “Luke Patterson, I like you too.”

That settles it for him. Luke had been annoyed at the thought of having to suffer through tutoring beforehand, but maybe he’ll be alright with it now. Y/N isn’t a part of the oppressive legion of teachers all conniving to make his life a living hell because he wants to be a musician instead of a doctor or a banker, she’s on his side. That makes it all better somehow.

And, unsurprisingly, it is better. Luke actually ends up having a really good time in his tutoring sessions with Y/N. They don’t feel like tutoring at all, more like a chance to hang out with a friend. They talk about Jane Austen and tell awesome jokes, read Shakespeare and spend more and more time together. Luke knows this is only a temporary thing until his grades get back up, but it’s too easy to forget that.

Until, one day, it isn’t. His English teacher hands back an essay with a bright red ‘A’ marked on the front, and tells him that she’s proud of all the progress he’s made so quickly. Instead of a sigh of relief, the only thing escaping Luke’s lips is a desolate sigh. After all, if Luke’s improved to this point, that kind of means his tutoring sessions will be over, right?

Y/N doesn’t know that, though. Y/N doesn’t have access to his grades. All she knows is what Luke tells her, and if informing her of his latest essay win means she’ll stop seeing him after school, why should Luke let slip a single syllable?

So, later that day, when Y/N asks him how the latest essay went, Luke shrugs and pretends to be disappointed. “I’d hoped for more,” he says, “she, uh, didn’t like my commentary.”

“Really?” Y/N questions, frowning slightly, “I thought you were really good at that.”

Luke’s eyes widen, caught in a lie. “Who knows with teachers, right?” He laughs weakly.

Y/N pretends to shudder. “I know, right? I feel like half of your grade is literally just how much she likes you. English classes are always so subjective.”

“Subjective?” Luke asks, grinning and propping his chin up on his hand, “Tell me about that.”

Y/N laughs. “Only if you promise we’ll talk Jane Eyre immediately afterwards. Immediately.”

“I so swear,” Luke intones, holding up his right hand with all the solemnity of a president being sworn into office.

Y/N swats him on the shoulder with her notebook, but she obliges, and maybe they don’t talk about Jane immediately. Maybe they laugh a little longer than usual. And maybe, just maybe, Luke thinks that he’s perfectly fine with obscuring the truth if it means he can have more of this when he needs it the most.

The truth, unfortunately, has a habit of making itself heard regardless of who is inclined to hide it. Luke comes into their usual study spot in the library one day to see Y/N waiting for him, not already in her seat like normal but standing tentatively at the side.

He frowns, slinging his backpack down on the ground and pulling up a chair. “Everything alright? You look like you’re about to run. If you’ve got something planned, we can do this another day.”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “No, I’m free all day.”

Luke gestures towards the table. “Then sit down, my legs are getting tired just looking at you. We’ve got stuff to study, don’t we?”

“Well, that’s what I was going to ask about,” Y/N says, “Ms. Brown stopped me after class today, said she had someone else she wanted me to tutor. I said I was already booked with you and she was confused. Apparently you’ve been doing just fine for quite some time.”

Luke feels his breath catch in his throat. This is not how he’d wanted Y/N to find out. For what must be the hundredth time this year, Luke sends out a silent curse to all meddlesome English teachers.

“Yeah,” he says as carefully as he can, “I have, but only because of your expert tutoring. It’s like antibiotics, you know? You don’t stop taking ‘em when you start feeling better, only when the prescription is over.”

Y/N blinks at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to feel like everything is slipping out of control in an instant. “It was a simile, sorry. A bad one. All I mean is that we don’t have to stop this just because I got a good grade or two.”

Y/N almost looks like she’s smiling, but that could just be Luke being delusional. “I thought you didn’t want to do tutoring.”

“I didn’t at the start, but you’re different. We’re cool. We are cool, right?” Luke starts rambling more and more with each passing second, but he can’t help it. He’s overthinking everything. What if he’s literally just been a tutee this whole time, and she doesn’t think they’re friends at all?

Y/N stares at him a second longer, then takes a seat at last. “Luke Patterson, are you telling me that you like my company so much that you’re willing to keep going to extra English practice just to see me?”

Luke can feel his face heating up, but he does his best to ignore it. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds–” He still has a little bit of self control left, so he cuts himself off before he can make a truly terrible mistake.

Y/N catches him, though. “It sounds like what?”

“It sounds like I like you,” he admits, and Y/N’s smiling at him, so he decides to take the leap of faith and just do what he’s been wanting to do for quite some time. Since the start of this, actually. “And I do like you. I like you a lot. I might not need the tutoring anymore, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you. So what if we met up sometime soon? Not for English, for us.”

Luke decides that he likes Y/N’s smile more than anything. “Are you asking me out?” She says.

“I am,” he affirms. “Are you saying yes?”

“I am,” she repeats.

Suddenly, Luke feels like the luckiest kid of all. Maybe he does have to throw in a good word or two for meddlesome English teachers after all. Sometimes they have a way of connecting you with the best people in the world.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

jatp tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @callsign-scully, @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

[merryslilhobbit]

There are so many things about the Daniel Ricciardo situation that frustrate and anger me, so I'm getting them off my chest before I lose the plot. I'm sure other people have said the same things, but here we go.

Horner made a whole big show of picking Daniel up after the McLaren debacle, bringing him back into "the family". Made himself out to be some sort of saviour. Rebuilding Daniel's confidence, his physical and mental health. Got a dig in at Zak in a press conference about "feeding Daniel up" because he was skinny. Invited DTS to see his return at Silverstone 2023. So to kick Daniel to the curb just a few races before the end of the season? Because they have "a lot of data on Daniel" and need to see other options for the future? Hypocritical c*nt.

Next, replacing him with someone they're not confident enough in to give a contract to straight away? Yes, Liam did a good job in Daniel's absence last year. This is absolutely not me shitting on Liam - I like him, and I think he and Yuki will be good teammates. But he's been out of full time racing for a while. Allegedly RB weren't overly excited about his testing times in the summer. While it will be interesting to see how he compares to Yuki, why are RB hanging onto Liam when they don't seem confident enough to give him a full time seat? Why are they so determined to keep pushing this one? (Yes I know the answer is probably contracts, but still.)

Then there's the fact that Daniel has actually outperformed Yuki in 6 of the last 9 races (since the start of the European leg). In the same period, they've scored the same number of points. Daniel has also been more consistent in his finishing position than Yuki. In terms of form, Singapore excluded (but I think we can forgive him that one, given the media shitstorm), he's been the better of the two and isn't it meant to be that the first person you need to beat is your teammate? There's only so much you can achieve in a tractor.

And we can't forget the Checo situation. Following the first six races he's bombed in comparison to Max. He's probably cost Red Bull the Constructors'. He was given a few races to improve, didn't and then was kept anyway (probably because of money and the Mexican GP). He often qualifies further behind (in time) Max than Daniel does Yuki. I know Red Bull are coming out now and saying they found a problem with their design from Barcelona last year, when Checo first started reporting issues but frankly I'm calling bullshit on that. As mentioned, Checo had six very good races and results at the start of 2024. And some decent ones at the end of 2023. At one point there was speculation that Daniel might even replace Checo mid-season (some reports say it was a done deal), so in the space of a few weeks to go from that to being dropped himself? I have whiplash.

And I think that's the hardest part. A lot of people were probably aware that it could be difficult for Daniel to get a seat for next year. But at no point was there any suggestion that he might get replaced mid-season. Not even in the middle, six races before the end. When Red Bull confirmed in the summer break that both Checo and Daniel would see out the seasons in their current seats.

Red Bull have created an absolute PR disaster and they deserve it. Driver of the Day, amongst many other things in the last 48 hours, reflects the love and respect so many people have for Daniel. People who see how emotional he was, who see that he didn't have an opportunity to say goodbye properly (fuck, even McLaren did that - remember the Monza 2021 photo on his steering wheel?). People who recognise that dumping him so close to the end of the season is ridiculous.

In the end, I hope that Daniel really is at peace with it all and is in better shape than he left McLaren; that he can be proud of all of his achievements in the sport. Drivers come and go, but very few make their mark in the way Daniel has done. He may not have broken records or won championships, but the fact that he will still be remembered for a very long time despite those things is a testament to his character, to the sort of person we all know and love.

[suzukiblu]

NaNoWriMo day three; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Still, Kon's been taking care of himself this long, Tim guesses, so maybe . . .

No. No, this is definitely fucked-up and a terrible idea.

But he has no idea what he should do about it. What he even could do about it.

Kon finishes a whole order of cinnamon bread and is eyeing the next one before they even get back to base. Tim doesn't say anything about it because he's apparently been living on laboratory cafeteria food all this time, but does make him carry the highly precarious stack of food in. In his defense, "precarious stacks" are basically what TTK is made for, and also it'll hopefully distract Kon from potentially feeling weird about getting paid for or eating "too much" or just whatever.

Tim is going to burn Cadmus to the ground and stock up on kryptonite and a whole lot of explosives, but he's going to do it in the least Kon-upsetting way possible. Plus his supervillain timeline is a long-term plan too, and Kon should be eating things that aren't cafeteria food right now. And also not working for and living in a shady lab. And also–

"Shit, do we have any cups left?" Kon asks, looking around with a frown.

"Top of the fridge," Tim says, both because it's his job to know as much information as possible and because he's trying to avoid stressing himself out any worse. Stress is not productive. It's not going to fix the problem. Kon doesn't even want him to fix this problem.

"Cool," Kon says, then thumps the stack of pizza boxes down on the table and goes right for the cinnamon bread again, flipping the box open as he heads off to, presumably, retrieve the cups. Tim is entirely unsurprised and has no illusions that he'll be getting any of it himself.

He arranges the pizza boxes and everything else they ordered a little more accessibly on the table, trying not to obsess over the problem of Kon's current lifestyle. He's living in a lab getting by on cafeteria food and not getting properly compensated for doing a dangerous job and doesn't know Superman has a secret identity and is never, ever anything but "Superboy" himself. He doesn't have another identity to hide inside or fall back on or just take a break in. Didn't even have a real name until just recently, and that real name isn't anything he can use outside of still being Superboy.

Tim can't imagine never being able to take off Robin, but Kon probably can't imagine ever having to take off Superboy.

Tim doesn't even know what that would feel like.

Kon comes back with the cups, tosses them on the table, and stuffs another chunk of the already half-gone cinnamon bread into his mouth. Tim is starting to doubt the quality of that cafeteria even more than he reflexively did.

He opens the Zesti and pours them both a cup, and Kon looks oddly–not surprised, exactly? But a little puzzled, almost, watching Tim fill a cup for him.

"I can pour my own drink, Rob, geez," he snorts.

"I had it open already," Tim replies with a carefully dismissive shrug, screwing the lid back on the two-liter. Kon huffs, but picks up a cup and takes a drink.

"Sure, whatever," he says. "This is so much pizza, man. Think we can get through it all or should we call in Imp for backup?"

"If we do that, we're not getting any of it," Tim points out dryly.

"Okay, good point," Kon says. "Guess that's why you're the one in charge here, Wonder Boy."

"I had to get my qualifications from somewhere," Tim says, sparing him a wry smile. Kon sniggers, then rips off another chunk of the cinnamon bread and holds the mostly-empty rest of the box out to him. Tim blinks, a little surprised, but takes the last piece. "Thanks."

Note to self: Kon really likes cinnamon. Or icing, maybe. Or both.

Actually, that thought makes Tim feel a little flustered over Kon giving him the last piece of the cinnamon bread, given how thoroughly he destroyed the rest of it. Which is stupid, since he also hogged the rest of it and could've shared way more than just the last piece, the asshole.

Tim is absolutely still flustered anyway, though.

Yeah, he has it embarrassingly bad.

Ugh.

"Sure, man," Kon says, flashing him a grin. Tim swears to himself that this bastard can never, ever know how cute that grin makes him. If Kon knew he had a crush on him, he would be absolutely insufferable about it. Insufferable and smug.

Or, possibly, uncomfortable and freaked out. Or worse, angry and hateful. But Tim would rather not assume the absolute worst of an ally who almost counts as a friend, to whatever extent he can count anyone who hasn't seen his actual face before as a friend.

Both more and less than the guys at school, probably.

Tim's not sure what that actually says about his life these days.

But Kon . . . Tim doesn't really think Kon would be an asshole about it, if he knew Tim wasn't entirely straight. He's never really said anything to give him that impression.

He'd definitely be unbearable, though, so Tim will be taking the secret of this particular inadvisable crush to his grave, please and thank you.

They both sit down at the table–well, Tim sits, Kon more sprawls, and looks unfortunately attractive doing it–and grab a couple slices apiece and then crack open the wings. Kon eats much faster than Tim, who deliberately takes his time about it. Technically, avoiding getting pizza grease and barbecue sauce on his gloves is reason enough to do that, which is what he's going to point out if Kon comments on it, but obviously he's doing it to make sure Kon gets to eat as much as he wants.

Seriously. Cafeteria food for every meal. And not from a private school or fancy company's cafeteria; from an underground cloning lab with, again, incredibly dubious ethics.

Tim really can't imagine Cadmus is all that committed to food safety and quality, given all the human rights violations they've committed in just their day-to-day operations–to say nothing of any special projects like Kon.

Maybe Tim should release all their classified files onto the internet and just let whatever happens to them as a result happen.

. . . no, no, nobody needs any random weirdos on the dark web reverse-engineering any Kryptonian DNA or anything. Which they definitely would. Hell, just the front page of Reddit and a few YouTube comments would probably be enough to do it, and then somebody'd try to actually go and produce it "just to see".

Though it's still tempting, honestly.

Extremely tempting.

"Are you going to be here next weekend?" Tim says once Kon's mauled his way through a good dozen wings and four slices of pizza with very little sign of slowing down, and Kon stuffs most of another slice into his mouth with an easy shrug. He still looks cute even with terrible table manners, Tim notes resignedly. How is that possible? Why is that even a thing?

Kon is so goddamn annoying that way.

"Probably, yeah," Kon says around a mouthful of pizza before shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth. Tim watches in vague revulsion, wondering how he still finds him cute.

Gross, definitely, but still cute all the same.

"I mean, unless Cadmus needs me for something, anyway," Kon amends as he gets himself another slice. "Sometimes there's emergencies and shit, you know how it is."

"Definitely," Tim agrees, though "and shit" doesn't really cover Gotham-level disasters, as a descriptor. Still gets the point across, so whatever. "I'll be here, barring Gotham."

"You mean barring Batman," Kon snorts, rolling his eyes, and Tim feels a very weird way about the fact that Kon doesn't have a Batman in his life. Well–doesn't have a Bruce in his life, more like.

Or a Jack Drake.

It's kind of a sad thought, to be honest, though it probably makes the vigilante work a lot easier.

"Barring Batman," Tim agrees again, smiling wryly. "You realize you have a boss too now, right?"

"I could still be Superboy if I quit Cadmus, though," Kon says, which is a valid point, if not quite the one Tim was trying to make. "No way Batman wouldn't flip shit if you kept being Robin out from under his big black cape."

"Well, historically that hasn't always gone so well," Tim says, taking a sip of his Zesti. Kon tilts his head, looking curious.

"Wait, you've actually done that before?" he asks. "Seriously?"

"There's been other Robins, you know," Tim reminds him, wry again. Kon blinks.

"More than one?" he asks. "I thought it was just you and that Nightwing dude. Who else?"

It occurs to Tim, very suddenly, that Kon not only wasn't a superhero when Jason was Robin, he didn't even exist when Jason was Robin. He wouldn't have heard anything when it happened, even in rumors, and it's not like many people talk about Jason now, even in the community. At least not anywhere that Tim's ever heard, anyway.

Admittedly, that might be survivorship bias, all things considered.

"My immediate predecessor," Tim says carefully, taking another sip. "After Nightwing and before me. He's–not active anymore."

"Dead or just maimed?" Kon assumes. Tim doesn't bother wondering why "retired" doesn't occur to him as an option.

It's Kon. Of course "retired" wouldn't occur to him.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Out of The Blue – Keys

Masterlist

I walked into my apartment and kicked off my shoes. I went upstairs and changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized flannel. The second I got downstairs, I collapsed onto the couch.

Right out of MIT, I got a job as a traveling coder. I meet with business professionals and owners and help them build their websites. After the first meeting, everything I did could be done from home.

I grabbed my laptop off my desk and took it to the family room. I put on the TV show I was currently binge-watching and slowly started working on my newest project. I was finishing up for the night when I glanced over and saw how late it was. I was just about to close my computer when it dinged. With furrowed eyebrows, I checked my email.

Walter McKeys.

My heart flipped and then plummeted into my stomach. I haven't talked to Keys since college. We were in a lot of classes together. We constantly studied together and helped each other with our homework. I was the one who gave him the nickname "Keys". He gave me the nickname "Buggy". He used to say that I was annoyingly good at finding and getting rid of computer bugs.

Memories came flooding back as I read his email.

Hey Buggy, It's been a long time. I'm sorry for this random email, but I've been thinking a lot about you lately. That's probably weird. To be honest, I don't really know how to explain why I'm emailing you. I've never been very good with words. I'm only good with code. You know that. How many times did we have to do a presentation and all I could do was the coding part? You were always the one who did the presentation and the talking part.

Sorry. I'm email-rambling. Anyway, I've been having this issue with a code and AI. I finally made the connection and figured out the problem. I only figured it out because of you. I know that doesn't make sense, Buggy, and I'm sorry. Please watch the video attached and maybe, just maybe, it'll make more sense.

Sincerely, Your Keys

As I finished the email, my breathing was unsteady, almost coming out in short gasps. I reread it over and over again, my mind spinning with questions. I opened the attachment, but for some reason, I couldn't play it. When I finally pressed play, Keys popped up on my laptop screen. From the looks of it, he was at his office late at night.

Why would he film this at his office and send it to me despite how late it was?

That question made me finally press play. I held my breath as Keys started talking.

"Hey, Buggy," he smiled at the camera. "I know this is kinda weird, but I need to get some things off my chest. I'm not sure if you know this but for the last year, I've been working for Soonami on a game called, "Free Life". Lately, I've noticed something. . . Strange. Before I explain, I need to confess something. A while ago, I created a game with a friend of mine called, Life Itself. To be honest, Y/N, I used part of your code from our senior project."

Keys looked away from the camera and sighed. When he looked back, my chest tightened at the look on his face.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N," he whispered. "I should've. . . I changed it a little bit. Your code was focused on programming. All I did was adapt it for gaming. I'm sorry. I know I should've called and asked for your permission. I really hope that doesn't make you hate me."

He cleared his throat and took a minute to get his thoughts back on track. "Anway," he continued, "Soonami bought "Life Itself". They claimed to have shelved it, but my friend Millie found proof that they didn't. For you to understand what happened, I need to introduce you to Guy."

I smiled when his scream split and I saw the character he started talking about. "He's supposed to be an NPC, but something changed. Now, from the beginning. . . Guy's behavior is much more complex than it should be, thanks to our code."

My heart jumped when he called it "our code".

"But he's still stuck in "Free City,"" he continued. "He's still stuck in his life, this loop. And then, something changes. He comes to life. Why? And then I remembered. One of the characters from "Life Itself" was this guy that I nicknamed, "Lovelorn". And he was someone who was designed to never meet the right person. It was essentially the building blocks of the character. But he never stopped hoping that he would meet "the girl of his dreams". So I had to base this girl off of someone. . . and who better than the person that I was sitting next to every day? You."

My breathing sped up and I felt my heart jump back into my throat as he continued to explain to me what was going on.

"But then, one day, he meets Millie in "Free City", and once he sees her. . . he can never be the same. He was supposed to feel doomed, but instead, he feels alive until eventually, he is alive. Millie changed him. You wrote the code that was able to be changed by one person. One connection. You brought him to life, Y/N. You wrote the code that brought him to life. And he was alive because he met the one person he'd been waiting for his whole life. And I had to make it realistic, so. . . I based it off of. . . You. The woman of his dreams. . . she was the same as mine."

I hit the pause button, my heart beating against my chest. I ran my fingers through my hair as I tried to put my thoughts together.

"But Millie is the one who met him," I mumbled under my breath. "She's the one who brought him to life. . . I just wrote his code."

I grabbed my bag and headed to my car but stopped when I realized what time it was.

I went to bed but as soon as I got up, I found Soonami's address. I anxiously drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I got close. I signed in at the front desk and headed up to the offices. The entire time I was in the elevator, I kept repeating what Keys said in the video.

"Hello, gorgeous," a guy smirked. "I'm Mouser. And you are?"

"Not looking for you," I said harshly. "Where's Keys?"

"Not here," he shrugged. I sighed as I ran my fingers through my hair.

"You got an address?"

* * * * *

When I pulled up to Keys' apartment complex, my nerves made me freeze. I wasn't even sure what I was going to say to him when and if he opened that door. I barely found the courage to park my car and head up to his place.

I got to his door but hesitated before knocking. I held my breath as I waited for him to answer. The longer it took him, the closer I got to turning around and running away. I was just about to when the door opened.

"Y/N," Keys stuttered.

"Hi," I said, my voice softer than I wished. "We need to talk about that video."

He sent me a small smile and nodded. I took a shaky breath when he opened the door and moved aside for me to come in. I walked in and instantly started nervously playing with my hands.

"Have a seat," he invited me.

"Nice place," I mumbled as I looked around but didn't sit down.

"Thanks," he chuckled, clearly embarrassed. He cleared his throat before attempting to break through the tension. "So, that video. . ."

"Millie brought him to life," I cut him off. "Not me."

"It was your code," he shrugged with a small look on his face.

"You said I was the woman of your dreams," I continued, "but your friend Millie is the one who brought him to life. Not me. So according to that, she should be the woman of your dreams."

"But she's not," he said, slowly taking a step closer to me. "Millie has a lot in common with you. She loves bubblegum ice cream, swingsets, and Mariah Carey. So yes, Millie is the one that Guy ran into, but it was the similarities that he fell for. In fact, if you had run into him in the game, you would have brought him to life."

"Keys, this is. . . I don't understand. . . I just. . ."

I cut myself off when he leaned in, his face inches from mine. "I know I was rambling," he whispered, "but there is one important part in what I said."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've had a lot of time to think about this," he continued. "You're the woman of my dreams, Buggy."

Before I could say anything, Keys leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine. My mind was swimming as I slowly kissed him back. He broke the kiss with a small smile on his face. We looked into each other's eyes as we struggled to catch our breaths.

"I know this was completely random," he whispered with his forehead pressed to mine, "but I couldn't stop thinking about you, Buggy. Every day I fixed the coding issues with Free Life, I thought about you. I haven't stopped thinking about you since the night we graduated from MIT."

"That video. . ." I whispered but didn't continue.

"Was my cowardly way of admitting my feelings for you," he said with a small chuckle as he leaned back. I held my breath as he reached forward and gently grabbed my hands, slightly pulling me closer.

"Say it," I said under my breath.

"Say what?" He asked, slightly tilting his head.

"Confess to me what you confessed in the video."

Keys smiled as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him.

"You are the woman of my dreams," he whispered. "I created the character Lovelorn and kinda based him off of me. I designed him to never meet the right person because I was worried I never would. As I was creating him and "the girl of his dreams", I started basing her off the first girl that came to my mind. You. I thought about what I felt as we sat next to each other and worked on our senior projects. I thought about how I felt when you helped me with my code. I thought about how badly I wanted to be more than just coding partners. You, my dear Buggy, are the woman of my dreams."

I grabbed his face and pressed my lips to his. I felt him smile as he tightened his arms around my waist and kissed me back. We let out matching laughs as we fell back onto his couch. He hovered over me, looking deeply into my eyes.

"I've missed you, Buggy."

"I've missed you too, Keys."

[turtlesandfrogs]

So, here's the problem: the longer I work in gardening and landscaping, the more I care about the ecological impacts of native plants, and the less I care about aesthetics. Which is a problem, when most clients' primary concern is that their yard looks nice. Which, fair, I just don't care as much about it as they do and I feel like I could be making a bigger impact than I currently am.

So I'm thinking of quitting this job and going one of two entirely different directions, and for some reason it's rather hard to choose.

Option A is starting my own native plant nursery, which would focus on small (4 inch and gallon pot sized) native plants, with a focus on plants that are most important for native pollinators (especially those that are endangered or threatened where I am). There's some competition, but mostly at selling-to-landscapers level and not retail, and I'd want to focus on retail sales.

Option B is to get a job with the state doing some kind of ecological restoration work. The problem with that is my bachelor's degree is over a decade old and I don't actually have the kind of experience to put on my resume that would likely convince them that I can do the work (unless a combination of teaching and being self-employed as a gardener that helps people incorporate native plants and removes invasive species counts, which maybe?). So I'd probably have to take a lower level job and one that's further away to get in, and then work my way up.

Option A has the upsides of: completely setting my own schedule, getting to work with plants most of the time, getting to work with my partner, flexibility to decide I want to start teaching classes again or something. It has the down sides of having to do taxes multiple times per year, and not being guaranteed to work, and either needing to take out a business loan to get started or work at a day job to fund starting it up. Also if it fails I'll have to get another job without have professional references again, which yikes.

Option B has the upside of once you're in state work, it's way easier to get other state jobs so if I burn out of one job, I can hop to another relatively easily, will almost certainly make more money, comes with health insurance and retirement savings, and is likely the more stable option. On the down side, it would mean working 40 hours a week without getting to pick my schedule and it would be harder to take time off than it is now, I'll have to work my way up to a comfortable salary, and there's a lot less autonomy than when self employed. But I'll also have professional references out the wazoo, so finding new jobs should be easier?

One of the things that concerns me is I have ADHD and up until teaching, the longest I ever stayed in one job was almost 2 years. I taught for 4 years, then was self-employed as a gardener for 4 years, and now I've worked for this landscaping company for just over a year (and am grumpy about a) not making much money and b) aesthetics and only providing services to people who can afford us, rather than say, improving the environment for everyone). So I'm actually kinda afraid that if I started the native plant nursery, I would get sick of it after less than 5 years and be starting from scratch again. Whereas with a state job, I can pop over to a new job fairly easily. On the other hand, maybe I'm just doubting myself too much because all of those other jobs were actually really bad matches for me.

Anyway, my brain is going in circles over this. I mean, really, part of me thinks I should stay at this job even though it doesn't pay much compared to what I could make elsewhere (I have learned a lot though, which can be transfered to other jobs) just because it's so low stress compared to any other job I've had in the last decade & because the people are great and the work isn't bad. It just galls me that occasionally clients have ideas that I strongly disagree with, like cutting down a very nice magnolia tree because "it's too big" and I just have to do it because I'm an employee now. Ugh.

[cosmicjoke]

Well, in the wake of chapter 58 of "Saezuru", I see the usual blame game going around the fandom, some people saying the current situation is Yashiro's fault, or it's Doumeki's fault.

The thing is, this situation isn't either of their faults, as in, neither of them is fully to blame, and neither of them is completely without responsibility either. The real issue going on here is trauma and the ways in which their respective traumas are interfering with their ability to move forward.

Part of the problem with leveling blame, or most of the blame, onto a single party, is that it supposes either Yashiro or Doumeki is acting out of malicious intent, wanting to hurt the other, when that's clearly not the case for either of them, and I think a lot of the defensiveness we see in this fandom comes from either the outright insinuation made by some of malicious intent (I think you see this most with people criticizing Yashiro, accusing him of purposefully wanting to cause Doumeki harm from 4 years previous, when that couldn't be further from the truth), and then from others assuming that's what's meant by anyone who criticizes or questions either Yashiro's or Doumeki's actions.

I get particularly defensive about Yashiro because I feel like there's an awful trend in this fandom of dismissing his trauma and simply trying to put his treatment and initial rejection of Doumeki down to malice. I hate this, because it fundamentally misses the entire core of who Yashiro's character is, and ignores the fact that he pushed Doumeki away as much to protect him as to protect himself, both of which were legitimate reasons. Yashiro is the opposite of a malicious person. He's actually the most selfless and kind character in all of Saezuru, he just does a really good job of hiding it beneath a mask of apathy and indifference. But actions always speak louder than words.

On the other side of the spectrum, we have Doumeki, and any attempts to question or criticize Doumeki's actions with Yashiro is often interpreted as one making accusations of deliberate cruelty or unkindness on Doumeki's part toward Yashiro, rather than as just a questioning of the effectiveness of Doumeki's actions, or what exactly the goal is behind those actions. I think it's clear to anyone who's read this story that Doumeki isn't and never has wanted to hurt Yashiro. He obviously has a deep desire to protect him and shield him from further harm. At the same time, Doumeki definitely has a possessive streak when it comes to Yashiro specifically, and his desire to almost force Yashiro to accept him as his only love interest or sexual partner is, I think, part of what the issue between them is. He can't let go of his fear of Yashiro running away, in part, because he can't let go of his desire to stake his claim on Yashiro as only his.

Obviously, Yashiro's own issues with accepting love and seeing himself as worthy of love are also a major contributing factor to their current predicament, because he's unable to see Doumeki's perceived indifference toward him as anything other than proof of his own unlovability.

It also doesn't help that we haven't gotten a chapter from Doumeki's perspective in a long time, and it seems like we may never get another chapter from his perspective if Yoneda actually sticks to her previous statement regarding that. Right now, all anyone can do is speculate as to Doumeki's actual intentions with continuing on in his charade. Is he doing it to protect himself and his own feelings? Is he doing it because he wants to keep Yashiro from running away? The latter seems more likely to me because we seemed to get Doumeki's internal thoughts, specifically regarding this, last chapter, when who I assume was Doumeki said he was hiding his true feelings to keep (this person, i,.e. Yashiro) from running away again.

Part of my issue with Doumeki's current tactic is that it only serves to reinforce this idea in Yashiro's head that he's unlovable. I see plenty of people saying that until Yashiro can learn to love himself, or forgive himself, then he won't be able to accept Doumeki's love, and therefore, it doesn't matter if Doumeki drops the act and tells Yashiro right now that he loves him, because Yashiro isn't "ready" to accept that love.

But what exactly is the alternative?

How exactly is Yashiro meant to "learn to love" himself or "forgive" himself, when every time he sees Doumeki now, he's again and again faced with the affirmation of his own, negative beliefs about himself through Doumeki's seeming indifference toward him?

Again, I'm not blaming Doumeki. From his perspective, he probably feels he has no other choice but to act this way and treat Yashiro coldly, because he thinks if he treats Yashiro gently, Yashiro will just react in the same, traumatized manner he did last time they had gentle sex (and again, this is my issue with people blaming Yashiro and acting as if this whole situation is his fault for rejecting Doumeki to begin with. As if Yashiro chose to be traumatized). Doumeki has no way of knowing that Yashiro now wants to be treated kindly, or that Yashiro will be able to receive that kind of love now (which also isn't a guarantee). The only real clue Doumeki might have had toward that end was him finding out about Yashiro's impotence with anyone outside of himself. And maybe that's his goal, in behaving the way he is. Maybe he's hoping to force Yashiro into some sort of self-realization, or force him into treating himself better, and in doing so, force Yashiro to admit to Doumeki what he really wants.

That's been the speculation for a long, long time now.

But... the problem is, it's just not working.

We see Yashiro spiraling into a deeper and deeper despair with each, passing chapter. Like I said, it's fine to say that Yashiro needs to learn to love himself before he can receive or give love (a sentiment I don't even agree with, but that's another point for another day), but I can't see how Doumeki's current treatment of Yashiro is going to lead to him learning to love himself at all. All I see it doing right now is reinforcing all of Yashiro's worst, most negative beliefs about himself, and making the situation between him and Doumeki ever more confused and dangerous.

Again, this isn't me blaming Doumeki (I swear to god, some Doumeki fans are way too sensitive). This is just me pointing out the obviousness of Yashiro's depressed state of mind, and the apparent lack of success in Doumeki's methods to change it for the better (if indeed that's even what Doumeki is attempting to do). Again, we just don't know what Doumeki's actual intentions are. All we can see right now is the results of his actions. And to me, those results don't look good.

Maybe I'm wrong and Yashiro will become so disgusted with Doumeki's treatment of him that he'll snap and demand that Doumeki stop treating him like some sort of casual lay that he has no feelings for. But right now, I don't see Doumeki's treatment of Yashiro engendering any sorts of feelings of self-worth or a desire in Yashiro to stand up for himself.

He's spent almost 40 years of his life being abused and mistreated by others. I have a hard time envisioning him suddenly developing enough self-esteem to finally say "enough is enough" to the man he's tragically in love with.