#will this job pay my bills for the next few months at the very least? yes. am I lucky to be able to do that? yes

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aahhhh you live your days how you live your life!!! Dont get on tumblr dot com and complain!!

[shy-writer-999]

1-800-LONELYCHEF . ₊ ⊹ .

Summary: The same man calls you every Friday at 11:30PM. It seems like he has nothing better to do. After months of the same routine, you've started to take a liking to him, which is a problem, considering that he's your client... and you work at a phone sex hot line. WC: ~7k. CW: NSFW content! ANGSTY! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Masturbation, oral sex. MDNI plz!

“Hello?”

You’re very familiar with the caller on the other end of the line. He calls you once a week—every Friday, after his shift at the bougie restaurant he works at, 11:30PM on the dot.

He must be very attractive, or at least that’s what you’ve garnered over talking to him for many months.

At first, he was evidently too shy to make use of your more… explicit services. This is a phone sex hotline, after all.

He honestly sounded like he just needed someone to vent to. So, you listened, as was your job. After the first few months, you both got more accustomed to one another. His shyness melted away. He got friendlier.

It’s been six or seven months since he first called. You’ve become very fond of him, but you have no idea what he looks like. So, one day, you decide to ask.

“Your voice is so sexy,” you start, giving him a line that you gave everyone, except this time you mean it. “I can’t help but wonder what you look like, Sanji.”

With other callers, you’d have to check what their name is before you say it. But you’re far past that point with him, and every time you say his name it makes his heart flutter.

“Well,” he says. “I’m blonde. And my eyebrows have a little… curl to them. I’m a decent height and I have a bit of a goatee.”

“And what color are your eyes?” You ask, trying to get the full picture.

He notes that question. It’s a thoughtful one. You’re thoughtful, in general. He knows that you are just being nice to him because, well, it’s your job, but also… he can’t shake the feeling that you have a soft spot for him. Do you talk to everyone like this?

“My eyes? Hmm. It depends on who you ask. I don’t know, really. Some people say they’re black, other people say grey, I’ve had a few tell me they’re blue. I’m not sure.”

You hum in response. There’s a beat of silence.

“What sort of eyes do you like?” He asks. He’s cheeky like that. You have the feeling that he has a real soft spot for you, too. Why else would he call you every week? There are plenty of others he could call. But he just sticks with you every time.

You respond. “It depends on who you ask. But historically I have liked guys with black, grey, or blue eyes. Do you happen to know anyone who fits the bill?”

He can tell that you’re smiling. He finds himself blushing, getting giddy for a few moments before he realizes that oh, right, you are at work, and oh, right, he is paying you to talk to him, like the loser he is.

His voice falters a bit the next time he speaks, a couple of seconds later. You know the exact thought that just went through his head. It’s something you are well aware of but… it does make you a bit sad with him. You like him far too much for your own good.

You wonder if you would like the look of him in real life, painfully single as you are. You wonder if he would like the look of you.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on this guy you’ve never met. Teeny tiny is a massive understatement. Just because he’s so consistent—you’ve never met a man as consistent as him—and so kind, and such a gentleman, even on the phone.

But tonight, the call ends earlier than usual. It seems that your open flirtation was a bit too genuine for him. Hit a bit too close to home. He finishes the conversation and dodges your attempt to take it farther.

“Thank you as always, beautiful. It’s a pleasure to talk to you. See you next week.” The phone hangs up abruptly. He’s gone now.

He always calls you beautiful, like everyone else does, but… it just means something coming from him. Maybe because he’s the only caller who has ever wanted to truly know something about you. And every time he hangs up, he says ‘see you next week,’ even though you never see each other. It’s cute.

You find yourself wishing he was still on the line. You’re a bit bummed that he hung up this early, not because you’re going to be left wanting for money (he always overpays), but because you always look forward to talking to him.

When you take the next caller, you’re quickly reminded that Sanji is by far the youngest and kindest of anyone who has ever called you.

---

“Hello?”

He’s on the line again. It’s Friday again, 11:30PM sharp.

You respond, tone warmer than it needs to be, given that you’re speaking to a client. “Hi.”

You’re glad to talk to him. Very realistically, this is the only interesting thing you have to look forward to—it’s not like you can afford to go out and party on the weekends. Or any day, for that matter. He’s your Friday night date every week. That doesn’t escape him.

“How was your week?” He asks, like he always does. He’s the only client who has ever asked you that.

You respond as frankly as you can without overstepping. “Hmmm. It was alright. Pretty boring, in general. It could have been better. How was your week?”

He pauses for a moment. “It was pretty good.”

“Tell me about it.” You prompt, and he begins detailing his week for you, as is your routine.

The things you know about this man’s life are random and vast, among them, you know that he lives in the city next to yours, he eats oats every morning for breakfast, and that he chain smokes as often as he can get away with (which is almost 24/7). You’ve been privy to him trying to cut back on his nicotine intake more than a few times, and he has never forgotten that you cheer him on every time he tries.

Among other things, this week he had to go to work on his usual day off (Wednesday) because the sous-chef called out (again). You can hear him roll his eyes when he says that. You roll them too, even though he can’t see.

He vents about that, and you hear him out.

“The sous-chef sounds like a real asshole,” you say. “Always has. Didn’t he call out a couple weeks ago?”

He laughs out loud at your honesty. “I fucking know, right? And yes, he did. It’s ridiculous.” Then his heart skips a beat. You really do pay attention to what he says.

“They don’t appreciate you as much as they should, Sanji. I bet I could talk some sense into them.” You say, and you both chuckle for a moment.

“What else happened this week?” You follow up, genuinely wanting to know. This man fascinates you. With how charming and sweet he is, it’s a wonder to you that he’s single. Also, the life he lives is quaint. He is a man of routine, a hard worker, and he’s driven. He has a strong and warm personality.

When he replies to your question, you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice—is that reluctance? Hesitation? Shyness? Or awkwardness? It’s hard to tell.

He responds to your question. “Well… I went on a date last night.”

Before you can wonder why, your heart starts to sink. Fuck. You really do have a crush on this guy, don’t you?

You regrettably (internally) acknowledge your disappointment. You do have a massive crush on this guy. And he’s your client. So, get a grip.

Your acting skills have to be excellent for this job. You make good use of them now. “Oh, a date?” You emanate the pinnacle of excitement for him. “How was it?”

This has happened maybe half a dozen times before. The dates always go well but the follow through rate is bad. Obviously. Or else he wouldn’t be here. But every time it has happened, your heart always sinks. Not a fun feeling.

“It went really, really well.” Sanji’s voice is happy. “Might have been the best date I’ve ever been on.” You know he’s smiling right now. Positively beaming. Your heart breaks a bit before you reprimand yourself. You have no right to like this man the way that you do.

He probably wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot-pole if he met you in real life (you tell yourself this, and you know it is a lie, but you try to say it to make yourself get a grip… needless to say, this strategy doesn’t work.)

“How was she?” You ask because you know he wants to talk about it.

“She was thoughtful, kind, and considerate. Very sweet. Kind of like you, actually.” He says, not realizing how much those words make your smile fall. “One of the cooks set us up. Like a blind date. I had no idea what to expect but she was gorgeous. Wow. So funny, too.”

His voice trails off. It’s your turn to talk.

“Awh, Sanji, I’m so glad. You deserve some attention.” Your voice is sugar coated like usual and his heart patters.

The conversation wanders into various topics. The woman he went on a date with is a veterinarian. That sours your mood. She must be real swell. Caring for sick animals and all that stuff. Ugh. The whole topic is forcing you to accept the fact that you like this guy wayyyy more than you should. You have no business having this intense of a crush on him, having this intense of a crush on a man who is, ostensibly, and for all intents and purposes, using you as his rent-a-girlfriend.

The pair of you then talk about relationships—has he ever been in one? (Yes, ages ago.) What is his love language? (Physical touch and acts of service.) What’s his type? (Essentially, you.) You ask him questions and he asks you them back. It’s a nice conversation, an intimate one, one that would have you feeling better if not for the fact that he just happened to have an amazing date.

After a while, the conversation dwindles. You know that he’s in the mood to do what this whole thing is really about—phone sex. When Sanji is in a really good mood or a really bad mood, he takes advantage of your expertise in this area. Tonight is the former.

“Is there anything else on your mind, handsome?” You ask, gauging what he’s up to tonight.

“Mmmm, there is. What are you wearing, gorgeous?”

You smile. He’s cute. Usually, you lie when men ask you this question. But with Sanji you tend to be a bit more truthful. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel like he’s going to get taken off the market soon and never call you again one day, or maybe it’s something else, but you’re getting the urge to be more candid and flirtier with him than you’ve ever been before. Real flirty, not work flirty. You’re getting the urge to step out of whatever character you put on when you pick up the phone.

“Do you want the regular client answer, or the Sanji answer?” You say, bold and not giving a fuck. Why not? He can have the real answer, hell, he can have some realness because you’ve talked for so long, and because you like him so much. Like you said, he deserves some attention.

“Oh. How about both?” He’s tickled and intrigued. “I’m flattered that I have my own option.”

“You always do. Well, the regular client answer would be that I’m wearing a babydoll slip dress made of black mesh… with a black lace thong and thigh-high black stockings. Do you like that?” Your voice starts to transform; it starts to drip pure lust, candied in honey and flattery. It’s a well-trained skill. Sanji gets hard almost immediately, tenting his pants and widening his thighs.

“I like it very much.” His voice is getting huskier, thicker. You love it when he sounds like that. His voice really is sexy. He continues. “Now, tell me the Sanji answer.”

“It isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

He nods, but it’s not like you can see him. “Of course.”

“I’m wearing a black tank top and blue plaid sweatpants. No bra, but I actually am wearing a black lace thong.” You laugh. “Very sexy, right?”

His voice comes out raspier this time. “It is, though. I much prefer the Sanji answer.”

“You’re sweet.” You say, and he can tell you mean it. “Now, what are you wearing?”

Sanji blushes and his erection strains against the fabric of his boxers. “Do you want the regular client answer, or the You answer?”

You laugh again. “How about both?”

“Well,” he continues. “The regular client answer is that I’m in black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone and my sleeves are rolled up to my forearms. I’m wearing black loafers and black socks. Now, the You answer isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t have a shirt on and I am coincidentally wearing blue plaid sweatpants as well. Can you believe that?”

“No way. Really?”

“Yep.”

“Anything underneath?” Your voice is coy and his erection pulses.

“Yep. I have boxers on. Boring black ones.”

“And what’s going on underneath of those?”

He dryly chuckles and reaches down to rub his hard on for a second. “A lot.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” You practically purr and he runs his palm over his bulge in response.

He lets out a soft groan that make you feel some sort of way. “Oh yeah? Y’know, even though I don’t really know what you look like, I just know that you’re looking sexy in your pajama outfit right now.”

Your witty reply is stopped short. He’s the only one who is this real with you. Most of the men on the other line tend to be creepy, old, and just downright weird. This is a dying profession, after all. Sometimes the other clients are rude and dismissive, too. But Sanji… you know he really means what he says.

“You’re adorable, Sanji,” you say. “I’d venture a guess that you look pretty good right now, too.”

“Mmmm.” He hums, heartbeat rising as he continues to palm himself. “I wish I could see you right now.”

You can’t tell if this is part of the fantasy. You really did wish you could see him, though.

“What would you do to me…” your voice is smooth as silk. “If I peeled off my tanktop and shimmied out of my sweatpants?”

Sanji’s breath hitches. Something feels realer than usual about this—knowing what you’re wearing right now, what you’re really wearing, is turning him on beyond belief (assuming that you’re telling the truth, but he always chooses to believe that you are).

“If I was there, I’d kiss you, actually.”

His answer catches you off guard. You’re not sure he’s said something like this before.

There is silence for a second. You don’t know how to respond, really. You decide to just respond honestly, without appearances. Fuck it. He’d probably be off the market soon if his amazing date was anything to tell for it, so might as well.

“Wow, that’s really sweet. I’m not sure anyone has said something that nice to me in years.”

He tuts. “That’s my lowest bar of sweetness. I can go much sweeter than that, my love.”

He’s never called you that before, either. You’re starting to forget that this is a work call. It feels distinctly different than one.

“I’d like to see how sweet you can get, Sanji.”

His cock twitches again. Fuck. You really have a way with words. You get him more riled up than anyone he’s ever met before.

You continue. “After you kiss me, what would you do to me?”

“I would kiss every inch of you.”

Your heart melts. Fuck. Is this guy a saint? Where does he get off being so suave?

“Mmmm. That sounds nice. I’d like to return the favor.” Your tone, to Sanji, is effortlessly erotic. The thought of you kissing every inch of him—yes, even those inches—has him grinding the palm of his hand over his cock.

“Sounds even better. Then, if you let me, I’d go down on you.” The blonde is starting to get worked up. You can tell from his voice—when it gets all husky like this, you know he’s about to start touching himself, if he isn’t already.

Also, the fact that he said ‘if you let me’ really struck you. No one had ever said that before in your line of work. He has the tendency to say things you’ve never heard before, and he always surprises you.

“Of course I’d let you go down on me,” your voice gets softer. “What exactly would you do?” You wonder if he’d be any good. Maybe his answer will be elucidative.

“I’d start by kissing up your thighs, one at a time. Then I’d very slowly, very gently kiss your clit. Hopefully it would feel good. After a while, I think I’d be able to tell if you liked it. I’d run my tongue downwards and taste you. And tease you as much as you’re willing to put up with.”

“Mmmm. I think I could put up with a lot.” You let out a breathy sigh. You’re starting to warm up between the legs. With that voice, and those words, and that mental image… it sounds divine. You’re about to let yourself get carried away. It’s tempting.

“Is that so?” Sanji decides to keep going with the fantasy as long as you’d let him. Frequently, this happens the other way around. You usually describe to him, in great detail, what you would do to him. Apparently tonight it would be the other way around.

“In that case,” Sanji continues, “I’d take my time with you. I’d push my tongue inside of you delicately at first, then harder, and switch between that licking your clit.”

You can feel that you’re getting wet. It has only ever been with Sanji that you’ve actually gotten aroused while talking to a client. Usually, you’re as dry as the Sahara when talking to clients. But this man does things to you. Sinful things.

“What else?” You ask, biting your lip and sneaking your hand lower. You decide that, just this once, it’s okay to get carried away.

He can hear it in your voice. The synthetic, sugary (but still very much erotic) tone is dissipating and he’s hearing, for the first time, your voice bathed in genuine arousal. Your breaths are quicker than usual, your tone is less composed, and he can tell that you’re hanging onto his every word.

At the same time that his hand goes under the waistband of his boxers, yours goes under your underwear. He starts to stroke himself, relishing the first ripples of pleasure from his hand, and you do something similar. Each movement of your fingers is accompanied by his voice, by some filthy image he puts in your head.

“When you’re moaning loud enough, I’d press my middle finger into you slowly, to make sure you’re comfortable. After a moment, I’d move my finger and caress you inside a bit, and if it seemed like you liked it, I would press my ring finger into you.”

You start to mimic what Sanji is describing. It feels dangerously good. A barely audible sort of gasping sound falls out of your lips and Sanji hears it. His fist goes faster. He hasn’t ever heard you make that sort of noise before—he’s heard fake moans, sure, they were still hot (and he always told himself they were real). Anything you did was hot. But this sort of noise was the sort that could only be caused by one thing—pleasure.

Sanji’s fist goes a bit faster when he concludes that you may be touching yourself. The idea makes him feel like he’s on fire.

“I’d curl my fingers inside of you and find your g-spot… draw circles around it and press it while I place some kisses on your clit. Would you like that?”

His question catches you off guard—you’re getting lost in the act of fingering yourself.

“Mmmm. I would like that, Sanji.”

“How would I know that you liked it?”

“I’d, fuck,” another soft moan slips out of your lips and Sanji squeezes his cock tighter. “I’d run my fingers through your hair and pull you closer. Buck my hips into your tongue so you, ah, get deeper.”

“What would you say?” His voice is low now, and you can hear a faint sound in the background. He’s fisting his cock to your conversation, which is nothing new, but it brings you more of a rush than usual right now because you’re touching yourself too. “What would you say if you liked how I ate you out?”

“Don’t stop,” you shudder, and it sounds like it would if he was actually eating you out. The noise makes his heart flip. He can hear wet sounds from your end of the phone, too. He can hardly believe his ears, but sure enough, he can make out the noises of you bringing your fingers in and out of yourself.

“I wouldn’t,” Sanji says and then groans. The obscene noise goes straight to your aching core. You’re going to orgasm soon. “I wouldn’t stop until you came all over my face and I licked you clean.”

“Fuck,” you mewl. “That sounds, ah, sounds like it would feel good, Sanji.”

“Does it feel good?” He counters, twisting his hand over the head of his cock. His fist brings down the precum that has been beading at his tip, and the sensation makes his hips rock up inadvertently.

“Mmmmphhh, I—yes, it feels good, Sanji. Feels so good.”

You curl your fingers inside, searching for the spot that Sanji mentioned before. You press on it as you speak. You know he’s going to love the noise you make.

He grunts and throws his head back. He’s going to cum soon. He’s going to cum if you say his name some more. He wants it. “Say that again.”

“Fucckkk, Sanji. Feels so good.”

“I love hearing you say my name. I’m—hah—‘m gonna cum if you do it again.”

“Sanji. Sanji. Sanji, fuck, Saannnjjjiii.” On repeat, you moan his name through your orgasm, which you finally allow to wash over you. He can hear it in your voice, can hear you trying to force his name out of your mouth between keens.

Your voice has never sounded so good. He’s sure now, sure sure, that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time and that you just came. It’s a first for him. He’s suspected your arousal at other times, but this time, it’s a confirmed fact. In an instant, the fantasy fades and he can see the moment for what it is—you’ve thrown away the pretenses, acting skills, and flattery, and, for a handful of minutes, you’ve been 100% yourself with him, more so than ever before.

That’s what makes him cum. Your unreserved sincerity and desire. It’s the hardest he’s cum in a long time—and that’s a high bar, considering the fact that any time he broaches these activities with you he cums hard.

When you’re both panting in the euphoric aftershocks of your orgasms, Sanji whistles. “Damn.”

You hum in agreement. “Wow.”

He cracks a joke. “So, am I supposed to send you an invoice after this one?”

He’s hilarious in general, and this one makes you laugh. “I might allow it.” Your tone is uncharacteristically bashful. You’re about to say something you’ll later regret. “I think you’re the only person who has ever gotten me off over the phone.”

Sanji is taken aback for a second. “Really? I’m honored. And surprised.”

You almost instantly regret oversharing, chuckling awkwardly before you realize that this is a work call, and you should act accordingly. But it’s hard to pull yourself out of the intimacy of this moment and you don’t want to. So… against your better judgment, you don’t.

“I’m impressed, Sanji. Maybe we should do this more often,” you say, and Sanji’s heart thumps again. “You don’t have to only call me once a week, you know.”

“As long as you won’t get sick of me, I would love to. And we can do this again any time, gorgeous. It’s seriously my pleasure. You don’t know what you do to me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

While he’s saying the last part, Sanji realizes that this isn’t a favor, really. He tries to brush off that sad feeling for a moment but finds himself wondering what you really think of him.

It’s time for him to go to sleep, he concludes. He’s exhausted after a long shift and a hard orgasm.

“So, same time next week?” His voice is chipper.

“Mhm. I look forward to it, Sanji. See you later.” When the words leave your mouth, you wonder if he feels butterflies, too.

“See you later, sweetheart.”

Sanji hangs up the phone.

In your respective bedrooms, you’re both wondering what the fuck just happened. This call was full of lots of firsts and, little do you two know, the other feels elated.

But Sanji thinks about it more. He weighs his feelings for you against the practical understanding that he is, presumably, nothing more than a client to you. His heart aches at the thought.

And then he looks at his phone. The person who he went on a date with texted him while he was on the phone with you—she’s asking for another date. She says she looks forward to seeing him.

---

A week passes.

It’s Friday again.

11:30PM comes and goes. No call from Sanji.

In a span of over six months, this is the first time he hasn’t called you.

As you sit and wait for him, passing off other phone calls in case he decides he wants to speak to you tonight, your heart starts to sink.

Was last time a mistake?

Ten minutes go by.

Twenty minutes go by.

Many minutes go by. The time is now 12:30AM.

You’re left to conclude that last time was, indeed, a mistake.

You decide to take the night off. Your tears are making it hard to get any work done. You can’t put on that sultry voice and moan at old men in your current state.

There’s no denying it—his absence hurts you. Bad. Especially after last week. Especially after you admitted to him that you had never orgasmed over the phone before, and that you wanted to talk to him more often.

Why hadn’t he called you?

You wrack your brain for possibilities, but one major thing stands out. That date he went on. Maybe he went on another one and decided he liked them better.

Liked them better? You ask yourself after realizing what you just thought. He’s paying you to talk to him on the phone. Get over it. He isn’t going to keep calling you forever. What did you expect after last week? That he would just confess his love, offer to pay all of your bills, and that would be it?

You frown harder, hurting yourself deeper with your own rhetoric. The tears won’t stop.

It’s excruciating to realize that you like Sanji this much. You really like him. You know almost everything there is to know about him, too. And as much as you generally try to avoid giving out personal information, he knows a large chunk about you. Maybe that’s why it hurts so bad.

No, you tell yourself. Don’t kid yourself. You know it hurts this bad because you were hoping he liked you for real. You were hoping that this man, who you had never truly met before, who you had never seen, would, against all odds, decide that he wants you, even if he hadn’t seen you.

Fat chance, you tell yourself. Never do that with a client again, and this will never be a problem again.

---

Sanji does not call you back the next week.

Or the next week.

Or the week after that.

Or the month after that.

You are over it by the time the second month rolls around.

It’s pretty good timing, on your behalf. You think you’re really over this huge crush on a man you’ve never seen before. By the fifth month, you’re still telling yourself that you’re over this “crush”.

But that’s a delusion—any time you’re in public and there’s a blonde man, you find yourself scanning his face. Does he have a goatee? Could those eyebrows be considered curly? What color are those eyes?

When you see one that you think might be him, you always work up the courage to speak to them. But it never is Sanji. You would recognize that voice anywhere.

You wonder what you will say to him if he ever calls you again. Or if you see him in person. You decide that if he ever calls you again, you’ll either curse him out or break into tears.

In your most down-bad-hour, you contemplate showing up at the restaurant he is the chef at. You contemplate asking if you can see the kitchen. You just want a glance at him. A glance will keep your heart quiet.

But the joke’s on you—his restaurant is too expensive for you. Truly. You couldn’t afford a drink there if you tried. Okay, maybe just one. But you refuse to stoop to that level of desperation.

You’re a call away from him. He just has to dial your number.

You, on the other hand, have no way of calling or texting him. The service you work through scrambles client numbers before they’re patched through to you. The only way you know it’s Sanji is when he calls, at 11:30PM on the dot, on Friday nights. That’s Sanji time.

But it seems like Sanji time has come and gone.

You can’t shake the feeling that he did you dirty—but then you remember that he doesn’t owe you anything. This is your line of work. Phone sex. And that’s what you had. You just stepped over a boundary that you usually stay far away from. Whose fault is that?

No amount of logic can shake that feeling, though. You develop a little grudge against this man who you will never meet.

That’s what you tell yourself—that you’ll never meet him. But there’s a nugget of hope inside that, someday, he’ll call you. Someday he’ll kiss you. You try to obliterate that nugget though, as it is antithetical to the remedy to your lovesickness that you’re seeking.

Which will come first, him calling you, or you quitting this job that you’ve been meaning to quit for months at this point?

You hate to admit this to yourself, but he’s the only thing that was keeping the thoughts of quitting at bay. Maybe you really will quit this time around.

---

It is a Saturday night and you’re working again. It’s an unfortunately slow night, which sucks, because you really could use the money.

You’re scrolling on your phone, waiting for the next call to come in. It has been three hours with no calls. Guess all the creepy old men have plans tonight, which is such a shame because you need to pay rent soon. Sigh.

Time passes. You check the clock. It’s almost 11:30PM. The time doesn’t remind you of him anymore (well, much).

Maybe if you channel some of your good karma, ask the universe to cut a check of it right now, someone will call you for one long, lengthy conversation. You can help get them off as many times as they want. Five times in a row. You’ll break that record and go for six times if they just pay you. No questions asked.

Sure enough, a call comes through. You check the clock again. It’s been moving at a snail’s pace tonight. It’s 11:35PM. Hopefully whoever this is feels like talking.

“Hello?”

Your heart stops.

It sounds like Sanji for a second. But there’s no way. It’s been five fucking months.

“Hi.” You respond in your sugared up, sultry voice.

“It’s been a long time, gorgeous.”

It is Sanji.

Your heart flutters and your stomach flips. You’re speechless.

Don’t forget your game plans: curse him out or cry. But you can’t bring yourself to do either now that he’s waiting on the other line. You’re about to hang up the phone. You owe this man nothing and he owes you nothing—it’s that simple.

As you go to press the end call button, he speaks again.

“I’m sorry.”

The tears start now. The dam inside of you breaks. Hot tears pour out of your eyes and down your cheeks.

You didn’t think that hearing his voice would have this strong of an effect on you. But the heartbreak that you once thought faded away is now back in full force.

He’s waiting for a response before he hears shuddering breaths from you as you cry. Your tears are all the confirmation he needs—he knows that he was right months ago when he worked up the courage to confess to you. He should have done it. He knows that he was wrong to take the coward’s way out. And he knows he was wrong to tell himself that you didn’t care about him and wouldn’t care when he disappeared, because he was just a client to you. He was so terribly wrong. The sound of your sobs shatters him.

“I should have called you before. I’m so sorry. And maybe you hate me for waiting this long to call you again. I understand if you do. I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore, I—”

“Where the fuck were you?” You cut him off. Your anger is starting to seep through the tears. Maybe the first game plan can still happen. “I waited for you, Sanji.”

He doesn’t even try to think of a comeback or excuse. He tells you plainly what happened and, even though it breaks your heart some more, it makes sense.

“Well… I finally found someone. Last time, after I hung up, I had another date with that person I mentioned, and it went really well. So, we just kept going on dates. It didn’t feel right to keep calling you when things with her were progressing so quickly. We got together, and—”

“I understand, Sanji. That’s all I wanted to hear. Thanks.”

You slam your finger down on the hang up button. Your heart is broken enough as it is. He can keep all that yapping to himself. Good for nothing heartbreaker.

So what, he was with whoever that was. So what, they love each other and have been together almost half a year at this point. So what, he was just a client the whole time and you had gotten your hopes up for nothing and—your catastrophizing is stopped in its tracks when your phone starts to buzz again. You feel like it’s Sanji.

You pick up the phone. It is.

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up, please let me finish, please.”

“What, so you can tell me how much you love your girlfriend? I get it, Sanji. You paid me to talk to you for so long that of course you got sick of it and finally got what you had been after the whole time, a loving, very real partner. I understand that I’m just a service to be used and discarded later. That’s fine. Goodbye.”

“No. Listen to me.” Sanji’s voice is stern and harsh, a tone you’ve never heard from him before. “We got together and then she very quickly dumped me. Do you know what she kept saying to me? She said I was too absentminded. She thought I was thinking about someone else. Dumped me after two months because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. Absentminded.”

His words hang in the air for a few moments while you try to process why the fuck he’s explaining any of this to you and why it matters. He continues. His voice is emphatic, hurried, and nervous sounding.

“And if I’m being honest, I was absentminded. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I know this sounds fucking ridiculous because we’ve never met, and I understand if you tell me to go fuck off because I’m sure this happens to you all the time, but… I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve tried to for months. Three months. I told myself that I was an idiot for falling for someone out of my league. And the crazy thing is, I don’t even have to see you to know you’re out of my league. The way you act is out of my league. YOU are out of my league. You’re thoughtful, and kind, and considerate, and you pause before you respond whenever you talk because I can tell you’re really thinking over your response. And you’re funny. And witty, and charming, and you never once made me feel weird or less than for calling and finding solace in you. I’ve been lonely for years. I make the first move all the time, but it never works out. And I know I fucked this one up, and I know I didn’t have a chance in hell with you to begin with, but I just, fuck, I had to get this off my chest. I love you. I fell for you the first conversation we had. Now please tell me to fuck off.”

You can tell that every word he is saying is sincere and earnest. You can hear the emotion in his voice. While you wipe your tears dry and mend your heart together, you take deep breaths. He can wait for your response. Like he just said, you’re intentional about your responses to people. Every word matters. Especially with Sanji.

“Do you know how bad it hurt after our last conversation to not hear from you again?” You start.

He winces. He knew that was coming.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry. It was disrespectful of me, and callous, and if you hang up and never want to speak to me again, I understand and I deserve it.”

“You do deserve it.” You say, regaining some composure. “You really do, Sanji.”

“I’m sorry.” You can hear his frown. It’s a cute one. Fuck. His cute words are playing back in your ears too. So, he loves you?

Should you tell him how you feel? How you’ve felt for a long time?

One part of you is screaming at you to get a grip. But the other part—all the other parts—are finally, finally hearing what you’ve been wanting to hear for around a year at this point. That he likes you for you. That he sees you as you, and not some dolled up object of affection that’s only there to get people off and talk dirty to them. It has never been like that between you.

“If I accept your apology, Sanji, what then?”

“I—I actually didn’t think I would make it this far. But if you accept my apology, my next step is to ask you out to dinner with me. And to ask for your phone number. Your real phone number.”

You let out a long, deep sigh. “Sanji. My love. You could have told me these things months ago. It would have saved both of us so much heartbreak. I was devastated. Do you know that?”

You know that he already profusely apologized but you feel like driving it home a bit more. He deserves it. But while you talk, his hopes start to rise. You’ve never called him ‘my love’ before. Maybe that bodes well?

“I’m so sorry. I really am.” He sounds like he means it. You trust him enough to know that he does. Well, fuck it.

“Don’t think I’ll just forget about this because I’m head over heels for you, okay?”

“You—what?” He’s caught off guard. “You are?”

“Sanji. Yes. And you could have found out ages ago. Now, when are we going to dinner? You can apologize to me again then, too. And even if you don’t like what you see, you have to pay for everything. I’m getting an appetizer, an entrée, a dessert, at least two drinks, and whatever else I want. Okay?”

He laughs in relief. “Yes, okay. Yes. Holy shit, I didn’t think you would say that. I wish I could kiss you.”

“Wait—one last thing. If you decide you don’t like me after our date, Sanji, you have to tell me there on the spot. You can’t leave me waiting for another five months. You just can’t.”

“I promise, I won’t leave you waiting. I promise.”

When you hang up the phone a few minutes later (after more twisting the knife), you’re so thrilled that you can hardly breathe.

You can’t believe this is real life. You also can’t believe how quickly you just forgot your dignity, but you’ll unpack that later.

Dinner is set for tomorrow night. 7:30PM on the dot. Sanji is calling out of work, and he’s taking you to the (second) nicest restaurant in town (his is the first, obviously, and he wants to save that for a night where he can really plan ahead and spoil you).

---

When you get to the restaurant, Sanji is already there, waiting outside with a large bouquet of flowers.

He’s more handsome than you could have imagined. Of course he is. You do have great intuition, and you knew from the start that he was sexy. But… goddamn, he is sexy.

It makes sense now what he meant by curly eyebrows. He’s dressed well, too. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. He has black loafers and black socks. And he smells good. And he smiles good.

He’s so nervous he could puke. He hopes that when he sees you the nerves will melt. But they get 20x worse because he’s enamored with you. You’re beyond his wildest dreams—no number of fantasies could have led him to guess that you look like this.

He’s so obsessed that he starts to stammer before you tell him to calm down, and that he’s making you nervous.

Over dinner, you catch up on everything you’ve missed in the past few months of silence. You fill him in on details in your life that you previously kept to yourself, and he sees a whole new side of you.

At the end of the date, he tells you that he still loves you, that he loves you even more now, and that he’s so so sorry. He says that he’s mesmerized by you, that you’re more than he could have ever dreamed of, and that you can count on him for anything.

You seal the night with a kiss. A long one. It’s so romantic that you feel a bit disturbed with how happy you are after.

And it turns out that yes, this is your big happy ending. You make a perfect pair.

Epilogue: The day that Sanji finally shows off the techniques he told you about long ago, you’re more than satisfied. In fact, it seems like he was actually underselling himself there. You always knew he was the modest type.

thanks for reading! this was inspired by a whole lot of laufey! i hope you liked it. i love sanji so much it hurts me ;(

here's my masterlist if you're interested!

divider courtesy of @cafekitsune tag list @eggrollforyou

[jastard]

Making a new official post because the original (here and on GFM) has lost traction! My friend Ceaser has been struggling to find consistent housing for several months; right now she can't work due to being out of childcare, and is at risk for eviction again. Her landlord is currently asking for $600, and Ceaser wants to be able to give him at least $200.

Please share and donate if you can!

https://gofund.me/16ae73f4

____

Hi, my name is Ceaser, I go by Cee for short. I have 6 children and am facing serious hard times. We've been facing homelessness for about 6-8 months on and off. We finally found an apartment and have been able to move in. Unfortunately, I'm out of work due to not having a babysitter. I work for SEPTA and have a fairly good job, but since being out, it's been hard to pay rent and get the things needed for everyday life, as well as bills and house items. I'm a single parent and I'm very young. This money will help us possibly get back on our feet and be comfortable for the next few weeks until I'm back. I made the amount as low as possible as I understand we all have life going on, especially during the holidays. I'm working as hard as I can. Please help us stay comfortable; we appreciate anything. All helps.

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Late Showing

Summary- After a work shift you find Gareth all by himself, waiting for someone that never showed. Although you’ve had your differences, you can’t help but want to make him feel better.

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None c:

Tag List- @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @aidansloth @esme-viridian @morganwrites12672 @hawkinsmafia

(my tag list is always open, if you’d like to be added please let me know 💋)

Word Count- 2.8k

You yawned as you adjusted yourself in the uncomfortable velvet lined chair, head rested on your hand, not paying attention to anything that was going on around you. Being the ticket girl at the movies wasn’t a very exciting job, especially during those days of the week where you were basically getting paid to sit around and look pretty. But, it was a job that paid, and that’s all that mattered. It was just surprising for it to be this slow on a Friday.

You still tried your best to be alert, paying attention to every sound just in case it was anyone trying to make you do your job. Your ears perked up at the sounds of a few familiar laughs.

Every Friday after their DnD session, the older boys from Hellfire Club would usually stop by for a late night showing of whatever horror or comedy movie looked the most interesting. They were decently friendly, save for a few normal stupid teenage boy comments and stereotypical ‘boy humor’ that didn’t exactly translate all that well to girls. They were all relatively nice with you, they’ve seen you once or twice a week for the last six months so it was normal to have a conversation with them every now and then. But somehow, every week, one of them made it seem like it was his mission to piss you off.

At least, that’s what you took from your interactions with him.

And seeing him walking up to your booth with his hands on his pockets and a smirk on his face told you he was definitely going to try and get you today. Good thing you were stubborn enough to get him first.

“(y/n).” He said with a smile as he approached the booth with the other boys behind him.

“Gareth.” You smiled to him and looked just past him to smile at his friends, “Boys. You’re here awful early, aren’t you supposed to be jerking each other off in the drama room right about now?” You smirked to him.

The smirk dropped off Gareths face as he heard the boys try to stifle their chuckles at your comment.

“…We finished early.”

He only realized the error of his last words after the boys laughed harder behind him.

“Is that right?” You giggled, “What are you guys seeing today?”

“What’s playing?”

“Well,” You said, “if you look at the marquee that’s right above my head, it’ll tell you what’s playing.”

“Wow, bitchier than normal today are we?” Gareth laughed to himself.

“Only for you, sweetheart.” You said with an eye roll.

“Ignore him (y/n),” Eddie said as he shoved Gareth aside, “we’ll take four for The Fly.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one!” You smiled and tore off four tickets from the roll beside you, “Lots of gross stuff, really good body horror.”

You handed Eddie the tickets as he gave you the $20 bill from his pocket and he tore them each away as he handed them to the guys.

“You’ve seen it?” Gareth asked with a scoff, “How?”

“Maybe because i work here, idiot.”

Gareth wasn’t even given a chance to respond before getting his arm tugged away by Eddie into the theater.

You giggled and rolled your eyes to yourself, sitting back in your seat and waiting for the next customers to come up and purchase their tickets.

Your constant back and forth with one another couldn’t be traced back to one specific incident, they’ve been happening for so long you couldn’t remember who said what first or even how it began, but it eventually became a highlight of your shifts.

You’d be sitting in that booth for hours, nothing to entertain you except the rare occasion when there’s actual work to do or if you managed to bring in a book or magazine with you. As soon as you saw those boys pile out of whoever’s car they drove in and you saw the familiar red vest on Gareth, you couldn’t help but be excited for whatever nonsense he had to spew at you that day.

You didn’t hate each other. You certainly didn’t like one another, but you didn’t hate him. It was all innocent fun.

A week later, you were in the same position.

Bored, stuck at work in that little booth out front just waiting for the boys to show up again for their normal friday night routine.

You checked your watch and noticed it was later than normal for them, usually they were there around 4-5 pm, but as it approached closer and closer to 7 you figured they probably just decided to switch things up for the night. There wasn’t anything that great showing anyways.

Until you saw a familiar car pull into the lot.

You were glad to see them again, and finally be able to have a little bit of interaction with someone after being stuck alone in that little booth. But when you saw just one person step out of the car and approach the booth, you let out a gentle sigh.

Gareth walked up to the booth with a smile on his face, pulling out a $10 bill from his pocket and placing it onto the counter,

“Two for Chopping Mall.”

You took the $10 and glanced behind him before reaching around and pulling two tickets off of the reel,

“Why do you need two if it’s just you?” You asked, sliding him the tickets, “I figured the guys would be with you.”

“I asked them to stay back this time.” He gave you a cocky smile and took the tickets, “I’m meeting someone. A girl.” He shrugged, his eyes quickly scanning you for your reaction.

“Oh. Alright,” You shrugged, giving him a smile, “enjoy the movie then.”

Your reaction threw him off, and you could tell by the way his eyebrows raised ever so slightly, but you didn’t pay any mind to it. Gareth smiled back and wandered into the theater without another word.

The next two hours went as they usually did for you, handing out tickets to the various families and couples for their friday night excursions to the theater, though there was one thought that you couldn’t get out of your head. There were plenty of guys that came alone, but not one girl had walked inside by herself. You could be wrong, she probably just wandered in when you weren’t looking or came in through a different entrance.

Either way, you wouldn’t let yourself dwell on it for much longer.

You didn’t like Gareth, and he didn’t like you. That’s how it’s always been, and how it always will be.

But when it reached 9:15, and you noticed a crowd of people leaving the theater as you got the little booth ready to close up for the night. Tickets were put away, the little ‘sorry, we’re closed’ sign was turned in the window, and all the cash was locked up for the managers to count. As you switched the light off in the booth, you walked into the theater by the connecting door, but there was a little pit in your heart as the door closed behind you.

Gareth was still sitting on one of the benches inside, alone, in near darkness from the lights inside switching off as it got closer and closer to closing time.

You slowly walked over to him, and as you looked closer at his face it made you regret any time the two of you had one of your little spats with one another. He was sitting there looking like a kicked puppy, waiting all this time for a girl that never even showed up. You didn’t like him, you were so certain, but seeing anyone in that predicament was enough to pull at your heartstrings.

“Gareth?” You asked quietly, catching him by surprise as he jumped slightly in his seat.

“Oh, hey. Just, uh…” He cleared his throat and showed you the tickets still in his hand, “waiting. I think she’ll be here soon, we’ll just see the later showing…”

“Gareth,” You sighed, “we’re closing. The movies over…” He pursed his lips and gave you a slow nod, looking back down at the tickets he held in his lap, “I’m sorry-“

“No, it’s ok.” He stood up quickly, shoving the now useless tickets into his pocket as he cut you off, “i’ll just, uh… See you next friday.”

You gave him a small but friendly smile as he stepped past you, and he copied it.

In that moment there was a switch that flipped inside you.

Seeing him so defeated, all alone waiting for someone who probably wasn’t going to show anyways.

“Hey!” You called out to him as you took a few steps closer. He stopped and turned to you. “Did you still want to see that movie?”

Gareth shrugged,

“I guess so. But you said you’re closed?”

“I work here.” You giggled, “Come with me.”

You grasped his hand and led him down the quiet, dimly lit halls into one of the empty theaters. The lights along the sides of the walls were still on, though it was strange to see a theater so quiet and empty.

“Sit wherever you want,” You gently let go of his hand, though it felt strange to not have something filling that space, “I’ll be back in just a minute. Want a snack or something?”

Gareth shrugged again as he looked over the empty rows of seats,

“Popcorn is always nice.” He said to you with a smile. You could already tell he was feeling better.

“Popcorn.” You nodded, “No problem. I’ll be back in a few minutes, sit wherever you want.” You smiled and wandered out of the theater.

Gareth looked around for a moment before spotting a pair of seats right in the middle. He slowly walked up and got comfortable, smiling to himself as he sat there waiting patiently for you.

It was strange.

You’d never been nice to him, at least not this nice. Gareth didn’t know what it was, if it was you doing this out of sympathy or not, but he didn’t mind it. When he looked past all those childish arguments the two of you had, they seemed almost pointless. Behind the mask of insults and one liners, he could see that you were just a nice girl. And he was hoping you’d see the same for him too.

The two of you had never been alone in any sense of the word, the only time you had was during the five minutes of words you’d exchange over him or one of the guys buying tickets. It felt so weird. There were a thousand and one outcomes he could’ve imagined up from the two of you being around each other alone, each one of them ending up with either him having a black eye or you getting fired for ‘unlawful conduct’ with a paying customer. Never like this.

His train of thought was interrupted as the lights along the side walls started to dim, and the screen started to show the beginning static of a film reel. Just as the trailers started playing he heard the theater doors open and soon saw you with a bucket of popcorn in your arms.

“Here,” You said with a smile as you handed him the bucket, “I hope you like extra butter and salt, cause that’s what i put on it.”

“Who doesn’t?” He smiled back.

Your attention was soon grabbed by the lit screen as trailers started rolling for the newest upcoming movies. It was quiet between the two of you as you sat and watched the screen, but it was in no way an uncomfortable silence. Rather, it felt oddly comforting.

It was nice to be sitting there with him, and without even noticing all that anger that you had always felt for him was melting away. As the screen turned back to black, you snuck a glance over at him. It was quick, and you were certain he hadn’t noticed as you turned your head back to the screen.

But he did. And he liked you looking at him.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t try and sneak a few glances at you as the movie went on, and though it was quiet, you could almost feel it every time he did. It was nice.

It was so strange. You had never gotten along in any sense of the word before. Each time you saw him or he saw you, you had to prepare yourself to come back at anything he said, but this was the longest the two of you had gone without making a quip at the other. You liked it.

He was actually quite nice to be around. It felt comforting to have him there, especially during a scary movie.

You glanced over his way one last time before slowly leaning in to whisper,

“I’m sorry that girl never showed.”

Gareth looked to you with a thankful smile,

“Thanks.” As you looked back to the screen he leaned in closer to you, “I’m sorry for always being a dick to you.”

You quickly looked back to him. His apology caught you off guard. It wasn’t unwanted by any means, you deserved an apology for the things he’s said to you. But you knew he deserved one too, you weren’t going to deny he’d gotten the same remarks from you.

“I’m sorry for always being a bitch to you.”

You both apologetically smiled to one another.

Your arguments were what made your ‘relationship’ worthwhile, it was nice to have someone to lash out on after a difficult time dealing with customers that made it seem like it was their destiny to be a pain in your ass. But it felt even nicer to know how sorry he was for everything. It felt like being nice to each other was going to be a lot easier than being each others punching bags.

“No hard feelings?” Gareth whispered to you as he offered over the bucket of popcorn.

You couldn’t help but stifle back a quick laugh as you grabbed a few pieces of popcorn,

“No hard feelings.”

You smiled at each other once more, your face turning back to face the screen as you ate the few pieces of popcorn he had offered. But you could still sense his eyes on you.

Gareth took a slow, quiet breath, as if he was nervous about something. He leaned towards your ear to whisper once more,

“This is nice.”

As you turned to him, a blush arose onto your cheeks and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He was still so close, your noses nearly brushing as you turned your head. Your eyes glanced over his face as the light from the screen illuminated his face ever so slightly in the darkness of the theater. And you had to admit, this lighting made him look a way you had never imagined yourself seeing him in.

He just looked so good.

If you had to be watching a scary movie with anyone, you were glad it was him.

You nodded gently, the smile on your lips getting harder to hide as you could just barely see the pink on his cheeks too.

You both quickly turned away once more, each of you hiding your red faces and wide smiles from the other.

It wasn’t a date, but it was sure starting to feel like one.

A few moments passed by, the tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife, and as you sensed Gareth start to move next to you it definitely caught your attention. Though he wasn’t fidgeting in his seat as you assumed.

His arms gently raised up over his head, and you tried so hard to stifle your giggles the moment you heard an overacted yawn coming from him. And just as you suspected, as his arms came back down, one found its way laid across your shoulders.

You looked to him and quietly giggled as he looked to his lap with an embarrassed, but comfortable, laugh.

“That was so lame.” You said as you raised your hand to your lips to quiet your giggles.

Gareth looked to you with that smile still on his face, his hand gently moving over your shoulder,

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

Your giggles slowly ceased and your lips pursed,

“Shut up.” You said with a smile and an eye roll as you looked back to the screen, your head moving to rest on his shoulder as he pulled you in closer.

Whatever this was between the two of you, it wasn’t a date. But you were hoping he would ask you on one soon.

[genacity]

Hi there 🫢

So I just had to write a letter… and I had to put it in an envelope (obvi) and it was one of those envelopes that you have to lick to seal.

Now imagine Scaramouche being ur roommate, and he sees you lick the envelope and his thoughts run WILD

I had to share this cuz idk 💪

🎐anon

nsfw / suggestive scaramouche & the envelope; ANON THIS IS CRAZY WHY ARE YOU SO SMART

i am literally shaking. your last request was so good but this one takes it all 💯 HOW DO YOU THINK OF THESE THINGS

i was thinking of making this an entire fic by itself but i have other drafts i need to clear so you get whatever the hell this may be sorry 😰

you and scaramouche had been roommates for a few months now. he wasn’t the sweetest person in the world; but he payed his share of the bills, had a stable job, and had contributed to the house enough to be able to label him as a decent roommate.

the both of you never seemed to bother each other very often unless it was about the house. maybe the occasional “good morning” or “see you later”, but other than casualties, you never seemed to speak much.

maybe that was why you didn’t expect today to be so different than the rest. today, you had to head down to the post office to send a thank you letter to one of your family members. you had just graduated college recently and since they had send flowers and some money to “treat yourself” (you knew it would just go towards taxes anyways), you concluded that it would be basic courtesy to send a card back at the least.

you stood over the kitchen counter writing out the last of your letter to your extended family. your wrist ached with fatigue as you signed your name next to the love at the bottom of the card and put the pen aside, reaching over to the envelope you had put next to you.

scaramouche walked into the kitchen past you to slide a mug under and press a few buttons on the coffee maker. “what are you doing?” he had asked, the buzzing of the machine behind him making you lick your teeth to hold back the outward cringe. ‘that coffee maker must be old,’ you thought. ‘we should buy a new one soon.’

“just writing a letter.” you said flatly, picking up the envelope and turning to face scaramouche to engage in small talk.

scaramouche raised his eyebrows. “to who?” he inquired. you blinked and looked around for a moment; never had he held a conversation out with you for this long. this was definitely a first. “just some family that came to my graduation.” you murmured, lips occupied as you brought the envelope in your hands to your tongue to lick the seal.

you stuck your tongue out to glide it across the sticky part at the top, the taste of plastic lingering as you wet the seal. your eyes were too focused on the envelope to assure you didn’t cut your tongue (it’s happened before) that you didn’t notice the growing expression on your roommate’s face.

scaramouche’s eyes widened at the sight of your long tongue extending from your lips, carefully licking the adhesive and sealing the letter shut. his lips parted slightly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as his grip against the counter behind him hardened.

he could only stare, frozen in place as you finished the letter off with your stamps of choice and signing the address on the front. you said something to him, but he couldn’t hear you; the only thought in his mind your tongue and what it could do to him.

wait— what? what the hell was he thinking? you were his roommate; just some lowlife he shared an apartment with. but as much as he bashed himself internally, the image of you bending him over this counter right now, using that careful tongue of yours to please him was all he could see. vision foggy as his lips pressed themselves into a line, the sound of the coffee machine behind beeping snapped him out of his thoughts.

“scaramouche, hello? have you seen my—” “no!” he snapped, snatching the mug from the machine and rushing off to his room. your eyes trailed him confusedly. what was wrong with him? matter of fact, what was wrong with you?

you watched him rush away, eyes falling to the evident bulge in his pants before he slammed the door of his bedroom.

[mightyneinrewatch]

FAQ

Someone pointed out to me that asks were turned off, oops... that has been fixed now. Feel free to ask me anything! If I don't respond right away, forgive me, I have a day job and must pay bills, but I'll at least check in once a week when I'm rewatching the episodes myself.

Just to answer a few questions I've gotten so far:

There is no need or obligation to tag spoilers. (With the sheer number of people here who will be repeat watchers, it will be impossible to avoid spoilers, and I don't want anyone policing anyone on what tags they use - I want everyone to have fun!)

If you WISH to tag spoilers as a courtesy to new watchers, I would suggest using #nein again spoilers just so we all know it's specifically spoilers for the rewatch. (And if you are a first time watcher, WELCOME! I hope you enjoy the ride! Please tell us your thoughts as we go!)

PLEASE keep negativity to a minimum, meaning if you dislike a particular ship or canon event or whatever, I would only ask that you keep it out of the #nein again tag? That tag is for sharing LOVE of this campaign, so similarly I would ask not to see too many comparisons to other campaigns. (I have no intent to actually police any of this or call anyone out, and this is also NOT a request for ANYONE ELSE to police it either. I can and will use the block button.)

I am currently queuing up posts with the episode links, which will go out one episode at a time every Sunday at 8:00 am Mountain Time for the US (which I believe is 10:00 am Eastern Time for the US, and that's as far as my knowledge of time zones go) This is not a "live watch" per se. Think of it more like a book club. We all have a whole week to watch the episode and chat about it. Set your own schedule, and of course PLEASE don't feel bad if you fall behind! If you have a bad week, it's COMPLETELY okay to just skip the episode for that week and catch the next one. Or take a break for a few months! Or if you get REALLY into it, you can watch ahead at your leisure. No one is grading you on how well you manage to keep up.

On a very cool note, I checked the follower count AND WE ARE SOMEHOW ALREADY AT OVER 200 FOLLOWERS??? MY GOD, THAT IS INCREDIBLE! Very happy to join you all on this journey!

Special thanks to @sethdomade for mentioning the idea of a "dracula daily" version of a Mighty Nein rewatch! (That I'm now realizing I basically hijacked the idea and didn't even ask them at all if that was okay, I AM SO SORRY, I guess I'm asking forgiveness instead of permission??)

Drop any other questions in the ask box, and I WILL SEE YOU ALL TOMORROW FOR EPISODE ONE!

[saphiccarma]

- Family Line

Relationships -Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

Summary - Rio had never understood why Agatha didn't pay attention to her at school, but that all comes to light. Highschool au for AAA week.

Warnings: Agatha's mom is a bitch.

Agatha was what every girl at school wanted to be. At least most of them. She seemed perfect. She got the best grades in every class, even though she hardly attended. (Rumors were going around that she used witchcraft to pass all the tests. Rio found that hilarious.) She could have anyone she wanted, and most of the time, she got that. Agatha Harkness was the perfect girl.

Rio Vidal was also what every girl at school wanted to be. She had a slender build but played in all the sports that were available to women and crushed it. Most speculated, she had hooked up with every girl in the school, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Rio was sarcastic and teasing, but she had never been interested in someone like that.

Until Agatha.

She had started to date Agatha a few months ago, and since then it had been going strong, but there was always something off. It could have been the fact that Agatha wanted to keep it a secret and hardly interacted with her. They only met secretly in the stray closets and empty hallways, stealing fiery kisses and steamy words. Not only that, but not once had she been to Agatha's house. Rio had taken Agatha to her house a few times, her 'mother' always 'away', but she had never gone to Agatha's.

In truth Rio didn't have parents, she worked multiple jobs and faked the bills. They had both left a few years ago on a supposed vacation and Rio never saw them again.

"What are you thinking about?" Agatha's finger trailed lightly down the slope of Rio's nose. Rio's fingers came up to intertwine with Agatha's hand and press it to her lips. She hummed into the soft skin and pressed a tender kiss.

"Nothing," she mumbled, "Just how beautiful you are."

Agatha let out an unlady-like snort, "Flatterer."

Chewing on her lower lip, Rio thought over her next question. Agatha raised a brow, seeing the tentative look on her face.

“How come we don’t interact at school?” The question was straightforward, not bothering to sugarcoat the slight layer of hurt in her voice. It hurt, not being able to talk with her girlfriend at school and being ignored in the halls.

Rio never wanted to admit it to Agatha, so she kept it to herself, not once mentioning it to Agatha. But today seemed like a good day, and maybe Agatha would be up for the topic.  

Looking away, Agatha sighed, her fingers twitching in Rio’s hold. Her hopes crashed when the silence dragged on for a while, Rio’s lips pressed onto Agatha’s hand, until it became uncomfortable. Sighing, Rio tried to think of a different topic, and the one she came up with was no less controversial between the two of them.

"Can I come over to your house tonight?" She asked softly, her words careful. There was a very high chance Agatha could, and would, say no. The older girl frowned at the question, looking away. Her finger resumed its path down Rio's face, over the bump of her lips, down the tip of her chin, and tickled like a spider on her neck before trailing back up.

Agatha stared into the distance, not meeting Rio's eyes, even as she continued to stare at her. It worried her, to see Agatha so out of it, just chewing on her lower lip.

"Agatha?"

With a sigh, Agatha shook her head, "I can't, my mother wants to focus on studying now that finals are coming up."

Rio whined, grabbing Agatha's hand again. She used it as leverage and leaned up to press a kiss on Agatha's lips. As always, they were soft and tasted of the chocolate they shared that day. Agatha kissed her back eagerly, readjusting so that she was straddling Rio, and placing tender kisses all over her neck and lips.

"Aggie," she whined, pressing her hands to Agatha's collarbones, "We're in public."

They were in a public park, the one place that they could be themselves without the judgement of their peers, but Rio didn't want to go as far as making out here. Agatha shrugged and didn't stop her feather light kisses onto Rio's neck. Whining, she gripped onto Agatha's collar tightly, tugging her closer despite her worries. She hummed against her lips.

"Agatha Harkness!" A booming voice startled Agatha away from Rio and she jumped off.

Both of them scrambled to their feet, but Agatha's movements were considerably jerkier and more scared. Rio's eyes drifted to a woman standing on the path, her face slightly wrinkled with age and her face was set into a firm frown. Her facial expressions screamed displeasure and annoyance.

"You come here right now."

At some point, their hands had slipped together, and Agatha tore away from Rio. There was clear hesitance in Agatha's posture, her shoulders were stiff and screaming for help, and her eyes were wide with fear. She moved to take a step forward, even though her steps were unsteady, but Rio gripped her arm.

"Who is she?" Rio tried to keep her voice clear and steady, but that didn’t stop the slight waver of worry that leaked through.

Agatha tried to tug her arm away, but Rio didn't let her, holding firm.

"Rio, let go," Agatha pulled again, her voice filled with desperation, "Rio. Let go."

Rio shook her head, "Who is she?"

"Agatha Harkness." The lady called Agatha's name again, her voice had an underlying threat, "Do not make me ask again."

When it was clear that Agatha wouldn't respond to Rio's question, she turned towards the older woman, a glare set onto both of their faces. Rio matched her scowl with equal if not more intensity.

"Who are you?"

"Her mother," The woman spat. How could this woman be Agatha's mother? In just the few seconds she had known her, the woman seemed like an absolute displeasure to be around. She was everything Agatha was not.

Whether it was her sharp facial features that just screamed bitterness, while Agatha's were sharp, but pleasant and inviting. The older woman's hair was gray with age and was unkempt, but Agatha's flowed freely and cascaded down her shoulders like a majestic waterfall. Agatha was always taking everything in, constantly aware of her surroundings. This woman only had eyes for her daughter, unaware of the people that were beginning to stare.

"Rio," Agatha whispered and when Rio glanced at her, she saw tears brimming her eyes, "Let go."

"No," Rio said firmly, turning towards the woman, "Fuck off." She looked aghast, completely shocked and stunned at Rio's words. They didn't stick around to hear her aggressive threats and warnings, Rio dragged Agatha away, running as fast as she could. The wind whipped in their faces and Rio felt her hair brushing against her cheeks. The fall air was slightly cold and tinted her skin a soft pink.

By the time they stopped running, they were all the way across the park, breathless and laughing. Well, Rio was laughing, but Agatha almost looked like she was going to cry. Rio frowned, moving that her fingers were positioned on Agatha's wrist pulse point, tugging her closer. Pressing a tender kiss to Agatha's cheek, she wiped away the stray tear that fell from her cheek.

"Hey, is she like that all the time?" It probably wasn't the best question to ask at the moment, based on the way Agatha flinched away from her touch, another tear falling.

She shrugged, feigning indifference, "Not really."

"Liar," she mumbled against her lips. An impulsive thought popped into her head, and against her better judgement, Rio blurted, "Move in with me."

Agatha blinked, stunned, pulling back.

"What?" Her hands turned to grip Rio's wrists in turn, holding tight as if Rio was a steady anchor in a raging sea, "I can't do that. What will your parents think?"

It was Rio's turn to purse her lips and look away, pulse thrumming beneath her skin. Her parents wouldn't care, seeing as they had left years ago without, probably not even thinking of Rio once. She had no idea what happened, and she didn't care.

"They uh-" she cleared her throat awkwardly, "I don't live with them?" She said it more of a question, wincing at the look on Agatha's face. It was one of utter shock, eyebrows raised and lips parted slightly. "They left me years ago and I never heard from them since, been paying the bills and shit on my own. The power is out right now, I haven't paid for that this month yet, but you could- we could make it work. It's not ideal, but-"

Agatha cut her off with a soft kiss, pulling her close by gripping her cheeks and deepening the kiss. Whimpering into the kiss, Rio held her wrists tightly, grounding her to the present moment.

"I would love to," Agatha was already turning eighteen that summer.

Rio laughed happily, pulling Agatha back into a kiss, melding their lips together. She would get to spend every day with the woman she loved. Both of their parents be dammed.

“I’m sorry,” Agatha mumbled, “That I never paid attention to you at school. I was worried about my mom. She’s not really a fan of…” Her long fingers pressed into Rio’s cheeks, looking her dead in the eyes. It all made sense now for Rio. Why Agatha was always so closed off at school – she was worried her mother would find out.

Rio never had to worry about that.

"Fuck our parents," She muttered.

Agatha smirked, raising a brow, "How about I fuck you instead?"

[synbiosys]

So, I’m not proud of it, but I’m back to ask for help again. Above is the link to my Ko-Fi account; I can accept donations via Stripe and Paypal; I don’t have a preference of which method you use. Below is a more detailed explanation of the events that have led to my current predicament; it’s not entirely necessary to understand, but it should make sense of why this happened to me.

I’m dealing with some health problems and a recent car accident and I need help paying my bills for the next few months while I use that time to finish incomplete coursework for classes I took last year. In case it’s not clear, an “Incomplete” is a grade that can be given by instructors at some schools in situations where a student wasn’t able to complete a major assignment for a class due to circumstances outside their control, and allows students a pre-determined amount of time to finish that work beyond the end of the course. I had a plan for covering my expenses with a summer job at the Oregon State University Arthropod Collection (OSAC) while I finished the incomplete work, but the nature of my health issues, an outbreak of fleas, and a car accident have all prevented me from making it work. Now I’m kind of trapped; the cost of living in Corvallis is too high for food stamps to last an entire month, I don’t have a car anymore, and I’ll probably end up homeless if I can’t pay October rent and also pay November rent on time. I’ve managed to find some work doing landscaping and yardwork in my neighborhood, but I’ve realized that it’s impossible to make enough money and also handle the incomplete coursework; focusing on the former will impact the completion of my degree in June, while focusing on the latter will likely result in homelessness. The loss of my car is exacerbating all of this, in part because I live further away from all of the stores/banks/etc. in Corvallis, and public transit here is not very good.

Since late 2022, I’ve been experiencing sleep apnea-like health problems arising from swollen turbinate glands. I have some known allergies, but they’ve never caused swollen turbinate glands. The impact on my sleep quality became so severe that I had to resort to nasal strips every night. I saw doctors about this problem as early as spring of 2022, but none of them were helpful; most of them didn’t listen to me, and none of them considered trying any kind of testing. This ineptitude continued even after directly asking my primary doctor about autoimmune conditions and how we could test for them. Despite how obviously informative blood samples can be, nobody suggested a blood test. I finally lost my patience and demanded they give me a blood test for hypothyroidism at the end of August. Lo and behold, my thyroid hormone levels were an order of magnitude out of the normal range. Autoimmune problems run in my mother’s family, and it’s likely that I have Hashimoto’s thyroiditis; this disease is rarer in men, and the symptoms appear very gradually. While I can understand how this would delay detection of the disease, there were FIVE different doctors who saw me in relation to the sleep/allergy problems and none of them considered a blood test. I started taking levothyroxine the same day as the test results, but before being treated, my symptoms became so severe that my ADHD medication stopped working, my OCD symptoms went out of control, and I was experiencing severe brain fog. This is what forced me to request incomplete grades for my courses; I was trying to complete coursework despite all of this, and I was barely able to keep up. Once treatment begins, it takes at least a month to take effect, so my symptoms didn’t start improving until early October. Most recently, I found out that I needed to increase my dosage, but thyroid problems often have complex consequences, and any changes to the dose of the medication will result in unwanted side effects.

My original plan for this summer was to work at OSAC to cover my expenses while I tackled the incomplete coursework. I calculated the gross income I’d need to meet my expenses, and working 30 hours a week at this position well exceeded that amount. My duties as a curatorial assistant change slightly depending on the tasks at hand, but because I am paid from grant money, I must work efficiently, accurately, and in an organized manner. Because I have ADHD, extra measures are necessary in order to meet these requirements. I’ve worked this job intermittently since 2018, so I know how prevent my ADHD symptoms from interfering with my work. Because of the failures by my doctors to address my health problems, I was already struggling to arrive at work on time by June. By July, my symptoms had worsened to the point that I was no longer able to focus on work consistently, voluntarily cutting some days short because I wasn’t accomplishing much, and continuing to work in that state was inherently a waste of grant money. By August I could only make it to work sporadically. As a result, I missed most of the income I could have earned for August and September of this year. I was able to make up for some of this impact by selling old trading cards and video games from childhood, but that money didn’t last very long.

I was also confronted with a flea infestation that suddenly appeared in August. I rent a bedroom in a house with housemates; we tried to eradicate them ourselves, but the landlord suddenly informed us in early September that he hired an exterminator, who was arriving in less than 24 hours. I have some pet reptiles and pet invertebrates I needed to protect from pesticide exposure, so I suddenly had to move my pets to a friend’s house. I also had to re-arrange my bedroom to accommodate the exterminators. Based on the chemicals that were used, the only way I could make room safe again for my pets was by mopping the floor in my bedroom and the adjacent hallway three times. This ultimately cost me four days, and then the exterminators came back in early October, which forced me to repeat the process.

As if this wasn’t enough, I had a serious car accident in late September that annihilated my car and left me with severe lacerations to my left arm and a fracture in my thumb. The car spun out and flipped in the process, landing in the opposite lane. If another car had been about to pass me, it would have caused a direct collision at around 55 mph, and I probably wouldn’t have survived that. I realized the danger immediately and crawled out of the car, but most of the other possible outcomes would have involved my demise. I’m very lucky, but it took almost a month for the lacerations to heal, and one of them was deep enough to cause nerve damage, which hasn’t completely healed yet. My left hand has healed enough for me to use it, but I’m still having some issues with my thumb.

I wish I could say that I had help from my family, but my parents were impacted by both of the recent hurricanes that made landfall in western Florida. Even before the hurricanes, my parents weren’t really willing to understand what I was dealing with. I grew up in an abusive household; my sister and I were neglected by our parents, and we experienced emotional abuse from them as young adults. This is particularly true of my father, who himself is the product of a highly abusive upbringing. Unfortunately, research on the dynamics of child abuse has shown that children from abusive households often suffer a lack of economic mobility relative to children from more supportive family backgrounds as a result of mental health impacts. This has absolutely been the case with my sister and I; both of us are well into our 30s, and neither of us is anywhere close to long-term financial stability. That’s why it was deeply hurtful to hear my father blame me for being unable to fly to Florida on a whim to help him clean up the house, blame me for paying $950 a month for rent, and shame me for being 35 years old without a “stable job”. Both of my parents visited me in Corvallis in late July; they could tell that I was struggling, they apologized for neglecting me, and they told me they’d be more supportive, but apparently everything they said to me then must have been an act.  

Hopefully, this explanation sufficiently articulates the situation I’ve ended up in. I almost have enough money to pay my October rent, and I need to have my November rent paid by 11/5. I would have tried using Ko-Fi sooner, but in the interest of upholding my own responsibility, I wanted to exhaust my other options before resorting to donations again

[eclipixels]

His Preformer

Summary: A wealthy and privileged classmate, Coriolanus Snow, visits a strip club with friends. Unexpectedly, he discovers you performing on stage. A little OOC Coryo.

Warnings: 🍋

[4,894 words]

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

     Your hands shook as you looked at your paycheck from your current job waitressing. This wasn't going to be enough to cover your groceries this month if they went towards the bills.

     You'd been debating for some time now on finding a new job but it was very hard. Especially with your schedule.

     "Hey girl," your regular customer came in.

     "Just a milkshake, I got my paycheck today and I'm trying not to splurge." The customer spoke. Her name was Sarah and she had become a regular customer at the local cafe where you worked. Every morning, she would stroll in, her vibrant personality shining like a beacon. She was friendly, chatty, and it didn't take long for Sarah and you to strike up a casual friendship.

     "I don't know how much longer I can keep working here. My paycheck just isn't cutting it, and I'm drowning in bills." You spoke as you worked up the vanilla caramel milkshake.

     Sarah sighed, "I totally understand where you're coming from, girl. I used to be in the same boat."

     You raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You were? I had no idea. What did you do to change things?"

     Sarah leaned in, lowering her voice. "I work as a stripper at the club down Stover street, it turned out to be a game-changer for me. The pay is much better, and I have more control over my income. Plus, it's given me the financial stability I was struggling to find before."

     You consider Sarah's words and are intrigued, to say the least. Are you sure you wanna go into this?

     "How do I start?" You ask.

     ♡

     A low whistle drags through Casey's lips once he spots the dimly lit stage. Casey was one of Coriolanus's friends along with Sejanus. Coriolanus quickly glanced around the club, observing the tables and wasted men. He followed Sejanus and Casey into the heart of the building, where red LED lights buzzed as it flared through the perimeter of the ceiling.

     "Table for three?" The lady at the desk asked, pen hovering over a clipboard. The boys look over at Coriolanus, and he gives them a slight shake of his head in response. They already knew he would say no. He says it every time. They still ask.

     "Just two." Sejanus answers.

     "Just so you know, we only take cash here." The lady said as she looked up past her computer.

     "Shit- You can cover this, right, Snow?" Casey gave him Sheepish smile.

     "Yeah." Coriolanus replied, pulling the $530 out his wallet and handing it over to the woman with the tight sleek bun.

     "You're all set, right this way!" She smiles as she escorts the two capitol boys into the VIP private rooms.

     "Great." Coriolanus whispers to himself as he is now left all alone. Despite the type of people his friends are, it was out of Coriolanus's element to be at a strip club. But, here he was.

     He decided to leave and pick up his friends when they were done. While he was starting to leave, he scanned the dimly lit room looking for an exit. His eyes widened with surprise when his gaze landed on a familiar face across the venue.

     You, a fellow classmate from the academy, were on the stage, captivating the audience with your graceful moves. Your hair cascaded down your back, and your confidence was undeniable. Coriolanus remembered you as the easily angered and studious girl who sat next to him in statistics, not whatever this was. What a surprise, he thought.

     He had always found himself behaving childishly with you with both your bickering and arguing. He swore that he always tried not to engage in it but he couldn't help it, it was so fun to tease and mess with you.

     He couldn't help but watch you perform. Thank God there weren't many people here on Monday nights, but even with the very few people that were here, watching you, something burned in his chest. He didn't like this feeling.

     After your performance ended, he made his way to the bar, trying to blend in with the crowd. Ordering a drink, he formulated a plan. He wanted no one else to see you like that. He looked at all the university boys and middle aged men in the crowd. They didn't deserve you. But, neither did he and he knew that. However, that didn't help the pang in his chest.

     Coriolanus knew if you saw him, you'd kick him in the balls before he could even get out a word. So, he spotted a rack of masks for sale near the entrance and selected one that covered most of his face. It was exactly what he needed.

     With the mask now concealing his identity, Coriolanus approached the reception lady and discretely handed her a wad of cash. "I'd like to purchase a week's worth of dances for that performer," he said softly, avoiding eye contact.

     The reception lady, who was used to such requests, nodded and discreetly noted down the transaction. Coriolanus's heart raced as he watched her send the message backstage. You wouldn't know who had paid for your week.

     As you finished your shift and emerged from the back, you were met by Linda, the receptionist, who handed you an envelope. "A masked man bought a week's worth of dances from you," She explained. "He's waiting in room 7"

     Your eyes widened in disbelief as you took the envelope. You had no idea who could have done this. You opened it, revealing a substantial amount of cash.

     Back in the room, Coriolanus was dealing with the consequences of his overthinking, debating whether or not to just leave a note saying he didn't want the dances and to accept the payment as a gift. But, he knew if he did that, you wouldn't appreciate it. You were a girl who only enjoyed the fruits of your labor and would never accept anything out of charity. Stubborn. That, and the fact that you would probably still perform, so he had to take up your slot so no one else could see you.

     Coriolanus knew this was selfish and maybe even weird to some people. But it's a win for both parties, so what's wrong with it? You're still making cash.

     The door opens and it snaps Coriolanus out of his thinking.

     "So, You're the guy who rented my whole week out?" Your voice boomed through the confines of the room, he always heard you before he saw you.

     God, there you were. Y/n L/n, and you were practically dripping in gold. Coriolanus never wanted an incarnation of something so desperately as in this moment. He scanned you from head to toe and a smile broke out on his lips as he watched you tap your foot and cross your arms.

     "Yeah, got a problem with that– what was your name again?" He speaks.

     "Angel" You huffed, not sparing him a glance. He stifles a laugh at your announcement.

     "What's so funny?" You quirked a brow, hands now dropping to your hips.

     "Nothing. It's just- you're anything but an angel." He laughed, throwing his head back as he leaned back on his palms.

     "Who do you think you are?" You scowl, cheeks turning a shade of red, and he couldn't help but find it amusing. This whole situation humored him.

     "Clock's ticking, babe." He takes a sip of scotch, gesturing with his fingers to the cool, metal pole.

     "You want a show?" You smirk, walking over to the pole. "I'll give You a show" your voice saccharine as the words rolled off your tongue.

     Your thighs gripped around the metal as you lifted both your feet up and twirled your body in a spiral. You gracefully flipped yourself and came back down, the muscle on your thighs and arms flexing as you did.

     "How's that for a show?" You smirked, fixing yourself into a position known as the skater pose.

     "Impressive. How about you strip for me now? I mean, that is what I paid for." He started to get cocky.

     "Of course." You bit your lip in annoyance and gave a fake smile, swallowing back a snarky remark. You took off your fitted but revealing top and skirt, leaving you in a spaghetti strap crop with shorts that were given to you by the staff.

     "All of it." He commanded sternly, resting his chin on his palm with a lustful grin. Your lips curved as you stripped into only your red two-piece lingerie. Unbeknownst to you, his favorite color.

     "What a sight for sore eyes.." Coriolanus mumbled low, his heart starting to race. You looked extraordinary, like an image of a goddess and he couldn't believe it was all in front of him like that. He felt so unworthy but- fuck, was he so greedy towards wanting you.

     "What? Got nothing to say now?" You teased. It took a few seconds, but suddenly, he grabbed your waist and stood up, his free hand going up to cup your face.

     "Y’know, red is my favorite color, pretty girl" He states, face inches apart. So close. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

     You didn't know what came over you, or what you were feeling for this stranger. Why did it feel like your heart was ready to jump out every time his hands wandered over your exposed skin?

     "Who are you?" You ask finally, resting your hand on his neck. Gosh, you didn't realize how tall he was until now, or how his curly blonde locks of hair fell over his masked face. Who was he? Who was this man that bought out your entire week and indirectly helped you be able to pay rent for the next four months? The sound of a phone buzzing brought you back to reality from your thoughts

     "Sorry darlin'," he playfully pouts, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear to get one last good look at your enchanting face.

     "But, I gotta go. My friends are done." The mystery customer sighed sympathetically before grabbing his coat and leaving you inside the private room like nothing happened between you two.

     You didn't know much about this job but what you did know was people came here for lustful reasons yet you felt something motivated by a different emotion behind that man.

     Who was he?

     ♡ - a few days later - ♡

     The sleep deprived woman, you, walked into class, the click of your shoes alerting the blonde haired boy whom you classified as an, 'arrogant, stereotypical asshole'.

     "What are you looking at?" You snap, noticing his gaze on your ass. You were contemplating whether or not you wanted to stab him with your pencil right then and there.

     "Nothing" he muttered looking away, completely dazed as his mind worked through the flashbacks of his hands kneading the supple flesh of your ass between his palms as he fucked you.

     "Dumbass," You muttered to yourself.

     "You're not much of an angel yourself, either.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

     No one else would've thought anything of this. It was common for Coriolanus Snow and Y/n L/n to bicker the whole damn day if they ever had the time. So no one else caught it.

     Except for you yourself. Dread set in as you tried not to overthink the word he used. Angel. There's no way in hell anyone knew about your new side job. How could anyone, you’d only been with one guy ever since you started. Shit, he's the only guy on your roster there.

     You sighed and did you best to get over it. Besides, You'll confront the mystery customer tonight when he comes again.

     In the meantime, oblivious to you, Coriolanus needed to do something about the tightening of his pants. Fuck.

     ♡

     "Starting to think you’re wearing red more often on purpose" the mystery man spoke.

     He was back there again for the fifth time this week. Same old routine and although you knew not to have sex with the customers, you couldn't deprive yourself the pleasure that came with getting fucked so damn good. You craved to have him inside you.

     You roll your eyes, pretending not to be flustered by the little compliments he always gave you. It was hard for you to decipher if he was being genuine or not. Besides, what would it matter if this guy knew about you little infatuation with him. It's not like something could be done about it.

     "But.." He whispers next to your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. You shivered as a chill ran down your spine with the touch of his index finger roaming along your bare skin.

     "I think," he glides the flat of his palm down from your arm to the small of your back.

     "It suits you way better off." He finishes his sentence by placing a delicate kiss to your neck while unclasping your bra. The fabric fell to the floor, and a gasp issued out from your lips.

     "I don't even know your name and I could get in so much trouble." You spoke as if the words that left your mouth mattered to you. You let this man fuck you before so many times within the past few days, so why was it different this time?

     "You're saying you don't want me?" He pouts, trying his best to not cum in his pants from you ass rubbing against his crotch when you bent over to pick up your bra.

     "Well..." You bit your lips in shame. You did, you really fucking wanted to.

     "Just say the words, Angel," He whined. "and I'm all yours,"

     "I-" You choked. Your brain was screaming yes.

     "Don't think of the consequences." He reassured, trying his best to conceal the want in his tone.

     "Okay." You answered breathly, giving in to your desires.

     "Okay? Are you certain?" He wanted to make sure. "You can always stop whenever you want–" He was cut off by the abrupt kiss from your honey coated lips.

     "Yes." You firmly stated. Coriolanus grinned mischievously before hoisting you up, legs naturally wrapping around his waist. Your cognitive thinking went haywire as soon as he snaked his arms around you, holding you steady.

     His tongue explored the inside of your mouth and you could taste the liquor that stained his tongue. You knew he was muscular but you never truly took into account how strong that made him. His muscles flexed as he went lower and lower down your body, trailing sloppy wet kisses.

     "So" kiss.

     "Beautiful" kiss.

     The mystery man finally placed you down on the counter of the mini bar, falling to his knees. You didn't know why, but your cheeks were burning red. No person you had sex with ever had you this damn flustered.

     His kisses on your lower abdomen continued. Once he reached your thighs, your heart started to race ever faster. His platinum tufts of hair pooling against your pelvis.

     "You wet for me?" He whispers into your skin, breath fanning against it and hands dangerously getting closer to your core.

     "No…" You stuttered, clearly embarrassed by how much your body wanted this. Wanted him.

     "Oh?" He lifted a brow as he moved your panties to the side and ran two fingers down your cunt, picking up the natural lubricant that was practically pooling.

     "Why’d you lie to me, Darling?" His lips form a fake frown before he licks your juices off his fingers.

     "You know I only wanna give you pleasure" He dragged his warm tongue against your folds. You couldn't help but let out a cry when his tongue flicked your clit.

     "Is this good?" He asks, the words vibrating against your heat.

     "Mhm," you moan, hands finding their way into his hair and using it to anchor yourself against his face, grinding your hips down on it.

     "Fuck!" You moan out in pleasure. You’ve never felt this confident with a guy before. You guessed it was something about not fully knowing his identity that gave you more courage. That you can walk out of here and never see him again in your life. He only existed here and something about that made you less fearful.

     "You close?" His words were muffled against your needy cunt.

     "Yes." You gasp out. Suddenly, he pulls away from the grip between your thighs.

     "What? Why'd You do that?" You confront frustrated.

     "Well, it's not fair for you to come before you even touch me." He answers arrogantly. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he go from being so sweet to such a jerk?

     "Fuck your feelings," You groan before undoing his jeans, about to pull his boxers down too but he catches your wrists before you gets the chance.

     "Just what do you think you're doing?" He stares at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

     "Since you're all about fairness, I'm gonna give myself a reward for all the hard work I've been doing." You state as if it's a matter of fact.

     "No, what's fair is all that hard work has been rewarded with several bands." He chastised.

     "So I can't enjoy my job?" You scoffed with a weak argument.

     "Nothing in your job description says anything about fucking. In fact, You're strictly told not to." He chuckled. You didn’t know that he knew about the rules, how naïve.

     "So you want to stop?" You challenged. Gosh, why were you so difficult?

     "Do you want me to stop?" He fired back with the same tone. You turned your head to the side and scowled immaturely as a response

     "That's what I thought," he conceited. He picked you up and placed you down on the loveseat. You peeked through the corner of your eye as he pulled down his boxers.

     He was touching himself slowly but he really didn't need to with how hard he already was. You squeezed your legs and gripped the seat from sexual frustration. This was fucking torture. He knew how bad you wanted him and took that to his advantage.

     "Want something, Angel?" He taunted.

     "Need" You mumble the word.

     "Oh, I know,” He mocks, pulling you legs closer to him which made you yelp in surprise. You were entranced with how he handled you, finding the delicate balance between rough and gentle to be perfect. Coriolanus committed to memory every aspect of your body, from its curves to the way it responded to his touch.

     "Gonna fuck you ‘till you forget your name," He groans as he aligns his cock with your entrance.

     "Yeah?" You breathe.

     "Mhm, gonna fuck you so good, you'll forget any other person who's ever had the privilege of touching you like this." He says before sinking himself into your body. You didn't realize you were holding your breath until you let out an exasperated sigh.

     "Tell me how much you love it." He throws his head back, hips grinding smoothly against you like sweet molasses.

     "So much," your words were barely coherent and his pace unforgiving. The sound of skin slapping filled the room, and filthy noises spilled out from both your throats.

     "Tell me how bad you want it." His voice was no longer as rough as it was but instead had been replaced with neediness and whimpering.

     "Till I can't walk." Your mind goes blank, and you are starting to babble.

     "You look so cute going dumb on my dick." He coos, swooping his head down to place sloppy kisses. You squeeze your eyes shut from the sensitive sensations of his teeth on your collarbone.

     "Faster," you whine, clawing your fingers on his back.

     "If I go any faster, this loveseat is gonna break," he replied, and he was right. The furniture wasn't very sturdy.

     "But, if we take this to my place, maybe I could." He flashes a boyish smile.

     "In your dreams, mystery man." You roll your eyes at him.

     "Mystery man?" He quirks a brow, pace starting to slow.

     "Well, you never really told me your name." You moan out, sweat starting to bead on your skin at the slow dragging of his cock against your walls.

     "I really thought you'd know me by this point, Y/n." His lips curved into a cheshire grin and you felt your heart stop. What did he just call you?

     "How do you know my name?" Your mouth parts.

     The man sighs before saying, "Y/n L/n, you’re from the districts but somehow managed to attend the Academy, you’re studying economics and you sit next to me first and fourth hour."

     "How do you know all this– wait. Did you say we go to school together?" Dread set into you, and you quickly pulled the blonde haired man off of you.

     There's no fucking way. You went to school with this guy? Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were screwed.

     For a moment, everything was silent. Coriolanus's amused look faded. All there remained was worry etched onto his face. You stood there, face twisted into that of fear and concern of the unknown. Your hands gently came up, and your fingertips grazed the plastic of the mask.

     "Who are you?" You asked for the dozenth time in an almost rhetorical way. What you really meant was who was this guy that you got yourself so tangled up with.

     Coriolanus shuts his eyes as you took it off. The object clatters onto the floor, and your hand quickly clasps over your mouth.

     "Coriolanus? You fucking Capitol brat!" You scream. "You need to fucking leave, I don't care how much you paid, leave." Within seconds a switch got flipped off in your brain and you knew nothing but anger.

     "C'mon, darling. Don't be like that." He pleaded with a frown.

     "Be like what? Angry? Upset? Enraged? Because I am! I am furious, Coriolanus. Who the hell do you think you are? I bet you already told all your little other egotistical jerk friends about this. How many people know? You know what, I don't even care. I can't fucking believe this right now, I just–" This time, he cuts you off and places his lips against yous like his life depended on it. He wanted you to feel everything he felt through that kiss.

     You stood shocked and fought off the way your body wanted to melt into the kiss. You wanted to give in so bad, so so bad.

     He pulled away and trailed down your jaw, and you let him. His lips felt so delicate and plush against your body, like they belonged there.

     "I didn't tell anyone." He whispers gently, voice fragile and genuine.

     "Find that hard to believe,"

     "Y/n, please." He begged, and that's when you really looked into his eyes and read his face. He looked sincere and like he was about to break.

     "I know you think I'm an asshole," he starts.

     "I don't think, I know." You interrupt. He sucks his teeth as a response.

     "But, I would never do something like that to you. When have I ever done something like that to anyone?" He reasons with you.

     "I guess... You're right." You admit. He was right, he never had done something like that. Maybe you had unjustly judged him. Now that you thought about it, you had no valid reason to hate him.

     "That still doesn't answer my main question. Why? Why did you buy my whole week? Why me if it wasn't to embarrass me?" You spoke.

     "I don't know, I don't know why I did it at first. But now, I just can't imagine you with anyone else. The thought of you touching anyone else or letting anyone else touch you, I don't want that." He shakes his head, not noticing how his body tensed up.

     "You like me?" You question.

     "Well, I don't just have sex with anyone." He frowns, a tad bit hurt.

     "Doubt that." You mutter.

     "I'm serious." The expression on his face is stone cold, and you could tell that he wasn't lying. Yet, you couldn't wrap your head around it. He was the mystery man? The same guy that had you weak in the knees and red in the face? The same guy that irked you every second of the day that he saw you at school?

     "I believe you." You sigh, letting your crossed arms loosen and fall to your side.

     "Do you still want me?" He asks, eyes looking up at you with desperation.

     "Look, I'm sorry for flipping out, but I can't do this, especially with you of all people. You're lucky there's no sharp objects around me. But, fucking you would just be embarrassing to my self-woth." You proclaimed before turning around to pick up your clothes.

     "Are you sure?" He asks, his whole demeanor changing. You stood back up and when you did, you felt your back against his chest and your ass pressed up against his cock that was still covered in your wetness.

     "Because I remember quite fondly how bad you said you wanted me and how good it felt when I was so deep in you." His playful behavior returned, and his teasing touch was making its mark on your skin again.

     "Whatever you're trying to do, it’s not gonna work." You defected, voice betraying you.

     "Really?" He implored. "You don't want me anymore?"

     You didn't respond, knowing that if you did, you wouldn't be able to lie. Not when he looked at you with those eyes.

     "You're saying you don't wanna feel me in you again, fucking you over and over again?

     You whimper in response, forgetting how to form sentences as you mind went in a haze of lust.

     "Asked you a question, darling." He pressed on, giving a sharp and sudden nip to your ear with his teeth. He doesn't move, giving you some time to think.

     "If we do this," You begin. "What will happen after?"

     "Whatever you want." Coriolanus spoke with want and desire.

     "You mean that?" You ask sternly to make sure.

     "I really do." he says before kissing you once again, a form of reassurance. He couldn't ever get enough of you.

     "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you’re in love with me." You spoke, clearly feeling the emotion he wanted the kiss to convey.

     "Well, do you?"

     "Do I what?" You ask confused.

     "Know better." He restates.

     "Coriolanus Snow, are you in love with me?" You gasp, holding a soft grasp on his shoulders.

     "You have no idea..." He whispers lowly, anguish evident in his tone.

     "Fine, we can do this. But I'm in charge, okay?" You clarify.

     "Whatever you want, Darling." He spreads his legs for you and leans back. You get up and align yourself with his body once again before slowly sinking down onto him, hissing at the sensation.

     Curses fall from his mouth, and gratification flows through him like tidal waves. He trembles underneath you, and each time you bounce back down on his thighs, it feels better than the last. He senses his mind on the verge of collapse every time, and he starts to short circuit. Pleasure has never been so satisfying as it rakes through both your bodies as you allow each other to be safely vulnerable.

     ♡

     It's been two days since the incident and since you and Coriolanus both talked to each other. You said you needed some time to think after Coriolanus asked you if you wanted to formally court him. You weighed the pros and cons and how you wouldn't need to work at the club anymore.

     "Hey, you coming to class?" The text on your phone read.

     "Yes." You replied back to him. You made up your mind on your decision and plan to convey it to him in person when you meet face to face.

     You walk into class and immediately notice how anxious the ivory haired man looked. His knee was bouncing, and his hand kept raking through his hair.

     "Hey," You unintentionally startle him.

     "Oh! Hi." He shoots you his classic Coriolanus Snow smile, charismatic and charming as ever. "You look gorgeous."

     "I just got out of bed." You laugh at his attempt at flattery.

     "I still think you're pretty."

     "Well, thank you, Coryo." You smile before pulling out your chair and sitting down next to him. “You look pretty, too”

     You catch the way his cheeks flush, but you don't mention it.

     "Have you thought about what I said?" He asks, playing with the ring on his hand in anticipation, a habit he picked up since childhood.

     “I have. Coriolanus, I think you're a pretty decent guy and all." You start off your sentence.

     "You don't feel the same way?" He presses his lips into a line.

     "Yeah." You sigh sympathetically, noticing how he didn’t catch the inauthenticity in your tone.

     "It's fine, I understand." Coriolanus gave an understanding look, no matter how disappointed he actually was. What he didn't expect was the sudden laughter that followed after.

     "I'm kidding! Yes, I'll be your girlfriend!" You throw your arms around his neck and give a quick kiss to his cheek.

     "You're so cruel to me." He furrows his brows, "But worth it." He smiles back at you, engulfing you into his embrace.

[pappydaddy]

when i'm eighty (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!pogue!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: y/n is exhausted and jj neglected the bike's gas tank. who knew it would lead to such a proclamation.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover | @taurusvic | @moralina | @verystarfishflower | @4dr1ana | @adr1an4 | @instabull | @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @444lyra *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: tears (exhausted) | karen situation mentioned | the lovely realities of a retail job

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- not my gif -

Sure, Pogue life was fun and relatively carefree, and Y/N wouldn’t trade her life for anything, but it did have its downfalls. Like when you see something you really like and you pick up extra shifts and work your ass off for it, but a Kook just has to ask their parents for it and boom - they have one they barely use or care for. Or when you accidentally spend too much money grocery shopping so now you have to pinch your pennies until next pay in two weeks. Or, like for Y/N right now, you have to work all day, every day because your crappy minimum wage job is severely understaffed and, even though they treat you horribly, you offer to pick up more shifts. 

  Y/N, right now, wasn’t too pleased with her status as a Pogue. Not when she is standing here, bored out of her mind and swaying on her feet as the middle aged Kook rambled on and on about something. Y/N wasn’t too sure what she was complaining about, truthfully, she stopped listening after the woman called her an incompetent child - which was the very first thing that came out of her pink smeared lips. 

  All she could actually focus on was how heavy her eyelids were, or how much she wanted to cut her feet off or just rip them right from her body. Or the dull ache that nestled itself right in the dip of her spine. Or how much she wishes she could just smash her kneecaps because, at this point, they were so tired and sore they were basically numb. It had been five days straight of her leaving school the second it was over and having her boyfriend, JJ, drive her to her work (a small hardware store), and then working to close. 

  She was exhausted, but she was falling behind on her road to buying a reliable car. Not the heap of rusted metal that has been sitting in her driveway for the past few months - completely broken. Luckily, because the owners did not want the possibility of being sued, they refused to let her work this weekend. That meant, once this woman was done with her tantrum, Y/N could get out of there and sleep for the foreseeable future. Well, at least until JJ had to get up for his shift delivering groceries tomorrow afternoon. She just hoped today wasn’t the one day JJ was late to pick her up. 

  “Mark my words, because you all know nothing, I will never come back here,” The lady slammed her hand against the counter Y/N stood at, the newly hired cashier shaking slightly behind her. “And I will be in contact with your manager and owner for reimbursement for any bills that come from this.” She sneered, gesturing to the empty bottle of antifreeze that was specifically made for diesel engines. That she put in her Land Rover. 

  “You have a nice night, the owner and manager will both be in after nine tomorrow morning.” Y/N drawled like a robot, ignoring the huff and snarky comment the woman made towards her for her lack of respect. There was no way in hell Y/N was apologising to her when Y/N and the manager were the ones who told the woman and her husband not to get that antifreeze, but her husband just wouldn’t listen. 

  “And I am telling them about your horrible behaviour towards me-” 

  “Ma’am,” Their night manager appeared from one of the aisles, looking annoyed. The clock had ticked by to read five minutes after close, meaning this woman was standing there ranting for over ten minutes. “We closed five minutes ago, if you have an issue, you can call and discuss this with our head manager and the owner tomorrow, but now you need to leave unless you want to front the money to pay us the overtime you are causing us because we won’t get paid.” He told her, pointing her towards the exit.

  She scoffed. “Of course I won’t pay you people to be incompetent at your jobs. I mean, how hard is it to sell people items? If anything, I should be getting money for you people for the damages you caused to my expensive Land Rover-”

  “Again, ma’am, you will have to bring that up with the people with more power than me,” The manager looked completely exhausted and annoyed with this woman. He grabbed the empty bottle from where she left it. “Now, you can either leave on your own or I will be contacting the authorities and they will remove you from the premises and you will be banned.” 

  He held out the empty bottle just before she snatched it, her nose turned up as she scoffed, turning on her heel and leaving out the door. “Okay, you two go, I will lock everything up.” He waved them off. Smiling thankfully, Y/N grabbed her thin sweater (which was JJ’s) and her empty plastic bottle of water, tossing it in the recycling bin.

  “Thank you, Gerry. Have fun tomorrow.” She waved bye to him as the new cashier trailed quietly behind her. Pulling the hoodie over her head, she left through the same door the woman had, seeing her fancy silver audi sitting in the parking lot. From inside, she could see her phone pressed to her ear as she yelled. 

  “Hey, sweets,” JJ greeted her, pushing off from the wall he leaned on. Y/N smiled, saying a quick ‘see you’ to the quiet girl as she bounded over towards her mother’s car. Her feet not moving, she held her arms open for JJ, signalling she wanted a hug. JJ complied, striding the short distance to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Naturally, her arms rested on his shoulders, enjoying the relief and comfort his hug brought her. It was like every ache in her body left and the weight that was crushing her lifted. “Long night?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  She hummed. “Long week.” She corrected him, snuggling into his chest. He laughed lightly, not wanting to jostle her as she clung to him. 

  “As much as I would love to stay here hugging, we should really get you some food then to bed.” JJ started to pull away. Whining, she released him, the growling and uncomfortable feeling in her stomach too persistent to ignore, but her face remained planted into his chest. 

  “Carry me to the bike?” Her voice was muffled as she spoke. 

  “Sorry, sweets, the bike needs gas and I don’t get paid until next week.” He informed her, hands on her shoulders and pulling her face from his chest, just enough for him to see her face. Instantly, he was met by a pout and a whine from her. 

  She blinked at him, puppy dog eyes in full effect. “But I’m too tired to walk, JJ.” She told him. And looking at her, he could see she was. The eye Bags under her eyes were so deep that the concealer couldn’t even hide them. Her shoulder drooped so much it looked like she was lugging a bookbag that weighed fifty tons on them. And, not to mention, the way her eyes blinked lazily, looking a second away from closing in slumber. 

  Aside from her appearance, he could tell over the past few days she was completely exhausted. The way she kept falling asleep on his shoulder at lunch or as they skipped their respective classes in favour of cuddles. She only skipped classes when she wasn’t sleeping properly or she was bored. The way she was extra clingy (like right now). Or how she nearly face-planted into her breakfast this morning. “I know, Sweets. But the bike didn’t even have enough gas to drive here.” 

  Sighing, tears welled in her eyes. A mixture of exhaustion and stress filled her, creating tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to waste all that gas driving me here and back home.” She weeped, sniffling as she blinked frantically. 

  JJ, nearly shitting himself at the sight of tears, jumped out of his skin in fright. “No, no, Sweets. Don’t cry,” He shushed, wrapping her up in his arms so tight her eyes could pop out of their sockets (not really because he would never hurt her). She sniffled into his sweater, tears hitting his sweater. “I didn’t waste gas driving you. I can never waste anything when it comes to you. I let the tank get that low, it’s my fault. I thought I had enough but John B hit a pothole the other day and I needed to go help him change the tire, that’s where the gas went. It’s all John B's fault for being on the mainland and driving like an idiot.” He rocked them from side to side until the tears slowed and the sniffles seemed to quiet down.

  “John B made you drive all the way to the mainland to help him change the tire?” She asked, pulling her face from his chest, but his arms didn’t let go over her, keeping her pressed to him. Her eyes were watery and puffy, a red tinge to the whites of her eyes. Her face was puffy and blotchy, trails of dried tears running down her cheeks. 

  JJ nodded, moving his arms to grip her face, thumbs lightly rubbing the tear streaks. “Yeah. And the idiot also decided to take everything except the jack out of the van so we had to go get a lug nut wrench which ate up more gas.” 

  “He never learns his lesson, does he?” She laughed. It was wet, her mouth thick from the tears still. 

  “No, he doesn’t,” He whispered, his voice low as he stared at her. “Now, let’s get you home before you fall asleep standing here,” He stepped back, putting distance between them. She watched with furrowed brows as he turned his back to her, crouching down, practically kneeling on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Hop up.” He told her, arms to his side, stuck towards her slightly, waiting for her to climb onto his back. 

  “JJ,” She exclaimed. “You’re not going to be able to carry me all the way to John B’s!” 

  “Yeah I can. I’m eighteen, not eighty,” He told her, pointing to his back. Sighing, she knew he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. On top of that, he would find another way to carry her. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she hopped onto his back. His hands instantly gripped the bottom of her thighs, securing her there and he stood up to his full height. She let out a small squeal at the sudden change in height, kicking her feet slightly at the feeling of them not being on the ground. It always took her a second to get used to being held on his back. “And even when I’m eighty, I am sure as hell gonna still give you piggy back rides.” 

  “Sure, we’ll revisit that when you are hunched over because you gave me so many piggy back rides now.” She laughed, her arms lazily moving to rest closer to his neck, her chin resting on her bicep as he started to walk towards John B’s. 

  “Why do you think I am in such great shape? I am training to carry you around my whole life.” 

  “If that’s the case, might want to lay off the weed and the booze.” She poked him in the pectoral teasingly. He squeezed her thigh playfully back, laughing as she pressed a kiss to his cheek the best she could before resting her head back on her arm, letting the pattern of JJ’s gate relax her, her eyes growing heavier by the second. She really did hope that when they were eighty, they didn’t lose any of their playfulness - no matter if JJ could carry her or not.

[numou]

PLEASE HELP ME KEEP MY WATER ON

p*ypal: tathomp9

v*nmo: tathlyn

cashapp: tathomp7

i have made a post about this before, but my posts keep dying. please, at least share my post. i desperately need help.

last month, we got a notice from the city saying our water will be turned off if we do not pay them $1,204, in addition to our monthly water bills.

i am disabled and work two jobs. the part-time one pays decently but i have very few hours working it. my full-time job pays $17 an hour, which isn't enough for 1 person much less 3.

my mom cannot work because she is disabled & has Alzheimer's. some days she can't get up & hasnt been out of the house in two years due to agoraphobia.

thankfully, we were able to put the $1,200 amount on a pay-over-time plan, buying us some time. this time is quickly running out, unfortunately.

if we do not pay this amount in full within the next two weeks, OUR WATER WILL BE TURNED OFF!

if our water goes off, we cannot eat, bathe, clean our clothes or wash our dishes. i CANNOT be fired for being unclean at work, because my father and my combined income don't cover everything.

PLEASE, ANYTHING HELPS, EVEN IF IT'S $1!

finally, thank you if you read all of this.

[raccoonscupoftea]

🍙 In love with Food

Timeskip!Osamu X Y/n

Summary: You had a date scheduled, but life was being life again.

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, shitty day, shitty boss, uh swearing, grammar mistakes cause english is not my first language, food

| MASTERLIST | REQUEST INFO |

//----//----//----//

As you woke up from a nice deep slumber, you were happy, exited even, because there was a date waiting for you after work. you were happy while showering, happy while eating, happy while talking, heck even happy while working. It's been ages since your last date and this new one brought back old feelings of a high school crush.

Even you're work bestie was happy for you to see such a big smile on you. She complimented you back and forth "Happiness looks good on you" "It's like staring into the sun" or "Keep that smile going. You look stunning" were her go to compliments. True a great day so far.

Until your boss came along.

"Miss L/n, nice to see you smile, but care to explain to me what this is"

He slammed down a file, opened it and pointed to a specific spot. As you looked on it you recognised the paper and there was a huge mistake on it. One which you made. To your defense it was late, you worked longer than anticipated and was tired, but your boss wanted the papers done this very day.

Seeing such a big mistake, only a rookie would do, was devastating and your very heart stoped beating before increasing in an alarming rate.

You wanted to speak up "I-" but then realised there's actually nothing to talk you out of this situation. You made that mistake. You remember putting in that number, but only now you know it's wrong.

"Miss, you have made many mistakes in this company. I'm questioning your intelligence"

You're eyes widened and looked up to the boss's face. "You're fired. Take you're stuff and leave immediately"

He really did just fired you. Out in the open, with every employee to witness. It was just an office job but it payed your bills and payed your food.

There was no word coming from you as said ex-boss left back to his office. He only came out to fire you. You weren't even mad at him, probably a bit, but all these mistakes did come from you. It was the company's fair right to fire employees who only deliver mistakes and complications. All fault lay within yourself.

So it wasn't helped. You placed your stuff in a box and before you left the building one last time, you placed you're personal card onto the table. Walking throu the glass door of your former work space, made you dive into the drowning reality.

You were happy this morning, but life gave you the middle finger and teard down thos ray of sunshines. Life truly is unfair.

After placing your stuff into your car, you'd drive home. The drive was a little emotional, but you arrived safely at least.

This reminded you of the rent. It was due every beginning of the month. What day is today? Oh, great the 27th. At least the last paycheck can cover up the next rent. Until then you have to find a new job to no be homeless.

So many new responsibilities and fears. And it feels like it's all your own fault. If you haven't messed up, if you would have just been more efficient than tired all the time, then maybe you would have kept your job and not worry about finding a new job.

How would you even explain why you were kicked out in the first place? Telling the truth would do you any favour.

A sigh escaped your lungs, and the box got placed on the coffee table by the couch. Your body let itself fall down in the next room, right onto the bed. There again was this feeling of tiredness after work a full shift with overtime, but this time oh has only been 3 hours.

You could luckily only create an alarm for a few hours later, until sleep was catching up on you. Now you laid there in full work attire, hair still made. You sleept on your stomach, head twisted to the side while the phone was still in your hand.

It only took a minute until you were knocked out of reality and Into the dream world.

---

You're phone vibrated in your hand and the loud alarm sound woke you up immediately. It felt like time moved faster and shot you to the day, but it was still the very same day as you fell asleep.

With the tiredness still all over, you sat up and looked down on yourself. The shirt was wrinkled and the rest was nowhere were it was supposed to be. One glance at the time and you knew, it would be wise to start getting ready.

Fired or not. You wouldn't let these negative things mess up your long awaited date.

You took a comforting hot shower, spend a little longer in it and then picked out a caual but still stylish outfit. The meeting spot was a restaurant specificly for Onigiris. It was a small but still very comfortable shop in the city.

You never been in this restaurant but you're very curious about the food. At the desired time, you just arrived and went inside. The date was no where to be seen but you still sat down on one of the chairs.

There was no notification on you're phone that someone had texted you, but maybe they were just stuck in traffic. There still was hope.

There seems to be only one guy working here and he came up to you, thinking you were ready to order "Do you know what you want or should I recommend something?"

You glanced up to him. His cap is a little deeper in his face but you still could see the smile on his face while he hold a little notepad, ready to write down whatever you wanted.

"oh, I waiting for someone. In a few minutes they should be there"

The guy first glanced over to the door then back at you. His smile didn't fade, but something in his eyes had shifted. He put away the notepad "if you change you're mind. I'll be right there" and so he wandered of to another customer.

With another glance in your phone you noticed it was now 20 minutes after the decided date time, but you still waited. Disasters always happen when one needs to be on time.

Time passed and passed by like it always does, but the supposed date was no where in sight.

Another glance at the time. Nearly one hour passed.

Well, guess they're not coming. No message, no call.

When you wrote the person "Are you still coming?" Only then did you see that they actually blocked you. A little message from the system told you so.

Your eyes wandered over to the last message they sent "Can't wait to see you :)"

What a big fat lie.

There were words running around in your head. Words more destructive than a bomb wand way more hurtful. First the debacle at work and now your date stood you up.

You felt the tears climbing up to your eyes, wanting to get out. It took quite some effort to call them back.

"I guess they are not coming. I'm sorry" this smooth voice from the store worker reached your ears. Upon looking up and glancing right into his worried eyes, you immediately felt the tears backing up with full force. They couldn't be stopped anymore and so you broke out crying, placing your head on the counter and hiding your head with the arms, hand burring themselves into your fresh showered and styled up hair.

Another hand reached out and touched your wrist. "You wanna talk 'bout it?"

You looked up to him "Uh, I don't want to bother you at w-" while you talked your eyes had wandered around the store, only to find it empty.

"Yeah, I'm about to close the restaurant"

"Oh I'm sorry. I'll leav-" you immediately stood up

"Don't worry. You can stay. Have some food"

As one foot was on the floor, he had interwien and you fell back onto the chair. Well, at least you can eas something and pay for occupying a seat an while hour long. The crying had stopped a little but you were still a bit stuffy on your nose, eyes red as well.

The guy Infront of you smiled, quite charming actually, and he then walked over to the kitchen.

"Don't worry 'bout paying" He shouted from behind "These are leftovers from today. So they either get eaten or thrown away"

The guy then appeared with a large tray full of Onigiris. You're eyes widened at the amount of food. He then continued to talk "And I don't really wanna throw them away. I would have probably eaten them this night, but then my stomach would have hated me again"

His comments about his stomach made you giggle a little bit and as the sound reached the guys ears he began to smile a little more.

"My name's Osamu, by the way. But you can just call me Samu"

"Y/n" you smiled a little.

Osamu placed down the plate full of Onigiris, grabbed himself a chair and sat down infront of you.

He also leaned down to grab two bottles of beer, opening them as well and giving you one "on the house" he simply smiles and gives you a wink.

You accepted the bottle, cheeks a little tinted red.

"Then you may dig in" he called out. After thanking for the food you bit into the first one.

You date may have stood you up, but this Onigiri may have just became your new date. The taste and the mixture all fit well together and you couldn't just not devour this art piece of food in an instant.

Osamu was watching you inhale his food and his smile grew bigger. Happy to have found another who loves his food.

You began to talk while still chewing on your food. At first he couldn't understand it but on a second thought he had heard you say "This is amazing"

Foods the best when one loses all of their social manners, you had just experience this first hand and started to hide your mouth with a hand in suprise.

Osamu laughed "No worries. I don't judge, besides I'm guilty of it too" He then as well began to eat.

You don't know why such a simple dish made you so happy, but for a second you had forgotten your misery and the curent problems you life with. May it also be the company of Osamu or just simply both.

The two of you ate the whole plate clean. No corn was left, no sauce was not licked up.

You fell in love with this food. It was the perfect comfort food for you, and eating it in an empty shop with the one who made them was like a big hug "thank you" you had voiced out after a minute of silence, comfortable silence.

"No problem. Just promise me to come back soon" He smiled at you widely. How could you not return to this place. This is heaven.

"will do" you nodded at him with a smile of yours. A genuine smile. A smile you had held at the very beginning of this day.

[nauticalfools]

hey!! i saw your post about moving to ireland and that is definitely in my plan for the next few years! i’m in college and i’m studying abroad there hopefully next spring. would you be able to just tell me some of the basics of what it’s like to live there? like transportation, expenses, housing demand, etc! thanks in advance 🫶

Hey, thanks for reaching out!

Yes, of course I can. I'll talk about the basics here but if you'd like to go into details that would suit your situation more (for example, if you're planning to work or not etc) feel free to pm me 😊

Transportation

Transportation depends on the city you'd want to live in, I can only speak for Dublin right now so that's what I'll go into. When it comes to public transportation the standard ticket is valid for 90 minutes on all transport, including switching between different bus lines and trams. It's €2 if you have a leap card. Leap card is a plastic card you'll have to buy when you arrive (for €5 euro) either at the airport or at one of the special spots in the city center. Once you have it you can charge it through the app, at spar shops or at ticket machines and tap in or out at buses, trams (called luas here) and trains (dart). There is also student card options for cheaper. You can find more information here:

Unfortunately, the buses are not very reliable so if you're planning to use public transport the safest bet would be to find housing near either of the luas lines. (There is a green and red line. Green one is considered safer but I never had any trouble on either, that's just what I've been told by the locals).

Lots of people bike around or drive. I can't drive but I had a couple of friends with US drivers licence who had no problem getting an irish drivers licence in a sensible amount of time.

Expenses

Dublin is bit expensive to live in. I would say I spend around 280-300 euro a month on groceries. If you move around the city 5 days a week it costs around 80-100 euro a month on public transport. Rent averages 650-1000 a month on shared housing and so far my bills came down to 60-80€ a month but I haven't been here for the winter yet and I would assume it all depends on your housing situation. Minumum wage currently is 12.70€/h and is said to be rised next year but will likely be rised to around 13 euro.

Housing

Currently there is a housing crisis but it is possible to find a room. It just takes longer time to find anything decent for rational pricing. To find a place to live you will need to do viewings in person, so if you won't do student halls etc I would recommend getting an airbnb first or subleting a room from somebody for at least 2 weeks, even a month and spend that time on viewing as many places as possible. (Subletting is usually a lot cheaper and you can use the adress to set up a bank account if you are living there long enough to recieve a letter from the bank. It is important to get premission from the owner of the house to do that. They usually don't mind, people here are super helpful and friendly. The letter from the bank usually takes a week to get to you but can take longer). Both regular rental housing and subletting is posted on daft.ie.

To secure a flat/room they usually want you to show a job offer or last two paychecks. It can be different for work visa holders. It's good to save up 3 months rent in advance + deposit (which is usually equivalent to one months worth of rent) and use it as a negotiation leverage, offering to pay in advance once you secure the room.

Don't try finding anything on Facebook and never pay a deposit before viewing. There is a lot of scams around.

Necessities to function legally

Get an Irish phone number!!!

People rarely respond when you add foreign number as your contact information. It is especially important to secure flat viewings and job interviews. Your best bet is to visit Ireland before you move (maybe when/if you'd want to visit collages or unis for open days) and buy a sim card with a phone number. You can get one with a phone plan of monthly payment of 15-20 euro. Once you have it, activate the card and use that phone number for everything.

PPSN

Another important thing is PPS Number. Its kind of like a social security number. It is given to you by the government so you can pay taxes and be registered for social services like healthcare. I think you can apply for it on a different basis when you have a visa but I am not sure. Otherwise, you'd need to have a job offer or letter of employment to apply for it. Sometimes when you're applying for renting they can ask for this number too. You can read more here:

Irish bank account

Try to get an irish bank account as soon as possible. You will need a permanent adress in Ireland to apply for it. You will need a bank account to apply for most of the jobs but once again it may be different for visa holders.

It is a bit of a tricky loophole situation at the beginning with setting yourself up legaly so I would say securing the phone number and an adress is the most important at first. You can handle anything else after. You've got this! 😊

TL;DR you will need:

Leap card

Irish phone number

Irish adress

Irish bank account

(Job)

PPS Number

If anybody has any questions or would like to discuss their situation in more detail feel free to send asks or pm me. I'll try my best to help out. Stay strong lovelies! 💕

[alexandraisyes]

How are you doing?

Do you want an honest answer or a watered down haha cutesy artist answer?

I could be worse, to put it simply. It’s been a very. . . Excitable week. And month. And life.

I’m dealing with medication withdrawals that will last another month. They have me sicker than a dog right now, physically at least. My mental stamina is fine, it’s definitely been worse in the more recent past. I’m making a pretty good stress recovery from the past three months of harassment from varying sources, but there is no rest for the wicked.

I’m about 95% positive that I’m being actively stalked by someone from the whole August fiasco, someone who I’ve had blocked since the beginning of August. A (former) friend of mine that I had met through the rp blogs I did designs for turned out to be a sexual predator who was grooming the minors in said group, and I recently had to cut them off after confronting them about it. So that’s great. Both of these things are giving me mild stress, especially because neither of these people know when the fuck to quit and have a long history of stalking and harassment.

However, I’m finally writing again. I’m trying to get back on my current projects, as well as the newer project I’m working on. I’ve completed some commissions, I’ve made a couple self indulgent artworks, and even some art for friends. So I’m being productive.

I’m finally back to watching the shows, although this migraine the past few days has put a rather sudden pause on that. Hopefully I can get back on schedule within the next couple of days. I’m once again finding enjoyment in taking them apart too, which is always a good sign. A large part of why I went on a sudden hiatus was due to the harassment the past few months, but I’ve had some sense knocked into me about the matter by my everlasting and ever loving parents that had me seriously questioning why I was letting it affect me to the point I couldn’t function?

I moved back in with my parents last month. I haven’t fully unpacked, my executive function has been lacking when it comes to sorting boxes. Especially since the last time I was here it was only for a month before I had a fight with my folks and had no option but to leave. However we’re reaching that one month mark so fingers crossed that history won’t repeat itself.

In all honesty it’s been going a lot smoother than I expected. I’ve done a lot of yard work while I job hunt, and so I’ve been left relatively alone and to my own devices since I’m sacrificing so much of my time to clean up the property. It’s been a good distraction, and I’ll be honest I needed the vitamin D.

Unfortunately I’m running out of things to do around the property to prepare for winter. No more Vitamin D for me. Probably for the best, I don’t want to burn out.

Speaking of jobs, I have one now. I need to go in tomorrow and turn in the hiring paperwork, and then yippee I will have a steady source of income. It’ll probably only be part-time pay, but that’s okay. A job is a job.

I managed to reach my goal for donations, thanks to my friends and this wonderful community. All of my bills have been secured, with a little excess that I’ll use to buy new pants for work (can’t go in pantless). I cannot be more grateful to this community for handing together to help me reach my goal so I can afford to keep doing things like drive (which is extremely necessary when you live in the middle of rural countryside) and live in a house (as much as my parents love me I do have to pay rent since my dad is disabled and cannot support the family anymore).

My social life is fine. I’ve made a lot of close friends over the past few months, misery loves company and all of that. It’s ironic how we were all more or less strangers to each other, and yet these series of events have made us extremely tight nit as a little online village. I’ve made quite a few new friends too, just by being obnoxious. It is what I do best after all.

There isn’t a really an easy answer to questions like this when you have a busy life. I could just say “oh I’m fine” but that’s not honest. That’s not transparent or real, and I try to be both of those things. I’m not entirely sure what “fine” would look like, and by society’s standards I’m definitely not fine in any fashion. But we all make do with the hands we’ve been dealt.

I’ve become extremely close friends with a malignant narcissist (short term would be narcopath) and I find their presence a comfort. I continue to work on projects with friends, and abstain from creating new ones. I’ve caught up on a few different fanfics while I’ve been sick these past couple of days, and that’s always nice. I’m trying to do my best to give back to the community what was given to me (metaphorically), but being bedridden these past couple days has prevented me from achieving that very well. I’ve grown a fondness for TikTok animations and animatics, and have been considering making a few of my own.

Oh yes, also a month or so ago I bought a graphics tablet for my laptop and am looking into learning 3-D modeling. It would be fun to make my own VRChat avatars, plus it’s always handing to have more skills under your belt.

And my apologies if this runs long, or stops making sense at some point, I’m still fairly delirious and it is late as I write this, even though it will post sometime in the morning long after I’m asleep.

I’m doing well, to put it simply. Nothing in life will ever be just right, and I frankly don’t expect it to, nor do I wish for a perfect life. The only way we learn is through hardship, after all. I could always be better, but I could be much much worse as well. I’m just glad I’ve got plenty of time on my hands to swindle away even between writing, and art, and videos, and work. Due to a fairly rigorous sleep schedule I’ve about 16 hours of the day to spend at my leisure, and that already feels like too much excess time.

To the point I’ve taken to playing mobile games simply to pass it by.

So hopefully getting a job in town, one with a paycheck, will help manage some of that boredom. I’m sure I’ll still have plenty of excess time regardless, I always seem to be swimming in it.

And I’m sure I’ve concluded this post multiple times by now, but I truly am doing well enough. Talking about it helps me figure out and rationalize my mental health. It’s a bit like psychoanalyzing myself, for the word to to witness as if I’m just another one of the silly characters dancing on the screen. It is truly a beneficial experience for myself, however, since I’m able to truly process any emotions that might have been hiding behind triggers.

And here I go on another tangent, so I’ll cut it off here.

[foster-the-world]

Fun!

Oh Mary play was fun. Bizarre fun. Not sure it was my favorite but def some clever moments. My husband was a big fan.

A few years back I mentored one young mother through a very small nonprofit that helps former foster youth. Its basically two middle aged ladies who helped out a group of 8-10 former foster youth. They act as the informal support most people would receive from their family + recruit mentors. Anyway, they reached out today because one of the people in their current group has a ten year old whose struggling in school. Apparently her's in a not great school in the Bronx. Asked if I had any resources since we aren't that far. Neither of the group leaders have school aged kids. Wanted to know if a charter school would help him. So hard to know. If he's just having trouble because the schools not great then most charter schools will provide extra hours support to get him caught up. If he has a learning disability then most charter schools are going to counsel him out. They don't want kids who are going to bring down their test scores :( So depressing.

I tried to provide the DOE process of getting special need services but that takes months to even get an assessment spot. Compared to 99.9% of places there are a shit ton of resources. You can get literally hundred of thousands of dollars of services provided by the city. I know so many people who get over $200,000 of services per year free of charge from the city. Top notch/can't be better services. But its a fulltime job to figure it out and you've got to be first in line or its not happening. Or you need the cash to pay for assessments, etc that prove your kid needs these services. I have some friends that work in charter schools so if she's in the right neighborhood I can see if they still have room. I provided info on an organization that helps. But its all going to take so much time. For example today I've spent at least 2.5 hours researching, talking to other parents and texting with his providers. Its not an abnormal day. I'm not currently trying to chase down any new services. It just what is normal. I mean a little extra as its only the second week of school but still. I'm lucky I can do it at work/lunchtime. Anyway its all depressing. I don't know a solution. I'm thankful services are there but there has to be a better way.

I'm touring a school geared for ADHD kids next week. It would be for Kindergarten next year. Looks good for him. My only fear is they don't accept kids with behavior issues. He's a four year old boy with ADHD of course he has behavior issues. Why else would we be there? I assume they mean aggression? Going to find out. I read they require the kids to be medicated. I'm assuming that's for older kids. I can't imagine its a requirement for 5 year old. The APA doesn't even recommend until 6 unless there are extreme issues. We are unfortunately in the extreme issues territory hence looking for a school for kids with ADHD. I'm surprised private schools can make that requirement but I guess private schools can do whatever the hell they want. Seems fishy considering I'm sure every kid there has sued the city to have them foot the bill.

Baby boys doctor wants us to try Flovant to stop the asthma. Its the normal protocol. Not excited that some people have behavioral issues as a side effect. Not what my kid needs more of. Of course, as his doctor pointed out kids behavior gets much worse when they are feeling bad because of an asthma outbreak. Also, nervous because we are thinking of trying ADHD meds next month. I don't want to mix new things. Also, don't want to wait on the Flovant because Oct/Nov are his problem asthma months.

Feeling stronger about trying the ADHD meds. Every medical provider I've talked to has encouraged us to try. I know some people would take that as doctor's wanting a quick fix. I don't agree. I think they've seen it work from other kids and don't want our kids to suffer unnecessarily. Our ADHD parent coach- whose a big wig that's done a ton of published research on ADHD was very supportive of the idea.

Baby boy has also been using some language that is so sad. "My body feels wild. I can't stop it." "I'm mean to my friends. I don't know why." "I'm bad." He's only four. We don't use "bad" language. I don't want him thinking these things about himself. He has a really hard time controlling his body but he has the sweetest little heart.

Parent Teacher night for the girls. Excited to hear from Bee's teachers - as they are both new to the school. Bee had Rebel's teacher last year so that's not new.

The very kind teacher at the school who produces a morning announcement video created by/with the kids every morning announced she was pregnant today. I happened to be in the office. The kids were so excited. Very sweet.

[sirianasims]

My father pulled some strings and called in a few favours. We managed to find the perfect place in Brindleton Bay, all the way across the country.

We bought the most adorable house in a quiet neighbourhood. It was far away from my parents, but also far away from the scandal. Katherine and I needed a fresh start.

The most important thing, however, was that the house was right next to a vet clinic, and the owner was interested in selling it. My most important dream could still come true.

Katherine, being pregnant and newly fired, was not finding any jobs, and I was struggling to get the vet clinic up and running after years of neglect by the previous owner, but I finally felt a little optimistic about the whole thing. Maybe we could do this.

Soon after we moved in, some of the neighbours came to welcome us to the neighbourhood. I was very surprised to recognise them – Colten and Kailani, two of my brother’s closest friends in high school. My brother had even mentioned his secret crush on Kailani before he left.

Kailani was touched when she heard about our situation, especially the fact that Katherine was pregnant.

She told Katherine to ask if she needed anything – Colten and Kailani had just discovered that they were having their second child. I was glad that Katherine seemed to be making new friends already. I didn’t want to be her only support.

They were my friends too, of course – but I was mostly smitten with their beautiful dog.

I was still adjusting to being a proper adult – being a house owner was expensive and we wouldn’t have made it without the seemingly endless support from my parents.

The next few months passed, and we slowly settled in as Katherine’s belly grew.

I tried to be excited, but I was mostly filled with dread. Katherine was thrilled, decorating the nursery and constantly bugging me about baby names. She’d given up on ever having kids since Antony didn’t want any, but it had always been a secret dream of hers.

Kailani was also getting bigger. I’d often meet her when she walked Sansa as I was going to the vet clinic, and she was only a month or so behind Katherine.

I was much more relaxed around her – at least that baby wasn’t my responsibility.

It was harder to relax around Katherine. She was hormonal and frustrated with her new, heavier body, worried about her future job situation, and it didn’t help that Antony was dragging out their divorce.

Arguments seemed to erupt out of nowhere. I would be lost in my own thoughts for a bit, not paying attention to something she said, and she’d snap.

I tried to explain that I was thinking about important things, like how to make the vet clinic profitable so at least one of us could bring in some money. I didn’t really mean to be hurtful, but the money situation stressed me out. I hated relying on my parents for everything.

She obviously didn’t respond well to the low blow about her lack of career, and called me out for being immature.

She made me feel like a child. It was hard not to retaliate and say something that made her feel old, like how she clearly had all the maturity in this relationship – and then I was the bad guy.

I hated arguing with her. She clearly had more experience in that as well.

After an argument, I’d usually go for a run to clear my head and give us both some space. Sometimes I wondered what would happen if I just kept running. I was sick of worrying – about the bills, the clinic, the baby, and our strained relationship.

At least Katherine’s divorce was finally happening.

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