#would I be an asshole if I asked for a refund??

[moony-t0ast]

I went to get a pedicure today and the lady scrubbed the top of my foot raw with what was essentially a Brillo pad for feet.. there are literal cuts all across the top of my foot and it feels how a fresh tattoo feels.

[noroamenial]

100 YEAR CURSE FOR YOU!! 100 YEAR OF CURSE!!! DONT BE A DICK AND TRY TO GASLIGHT ME!! 100 YEAR CURSE UPON YOU!!

[portugalisinsa]

The terrible moment when Reddit can read between the lines and most of the comments on Tumblr can't

[topazadine]

On Fandom Entitlement

It seems every week, there's a new spate of ungrateful fanfic readers complaining about fanfic, whether that's whining that their favorite story hasn't updated or that the work isn't of the same caliber as they would expect from a book they paid for.

"This hobbyist wrote horrible dialogue! Pillory them!"

"Oh no, fic writers use this as catharsis! How horrible!"

I believe this stems from a fundamental misunderstanding of who they are as a reader and what fanfic is as a whole.

Entitled fanfic readers like this have a specific problem: they think they are consumers rather than fellow hobbyists.

Consumers are allowed to expect a certain level of quality from the item or experience that they purchased. (Note well the purchasing aspect.) They have protections under law, are encouraged to leave feedback for the benefit of other consumers, and can demand a refund if necessary.

With fanfic, no money is changing hands - in fact, no money CAN legally change hands, because the writer is dabbling in someone else's intellectual property.

Readers didn't purchase anything, have no legal protections, and can't take recourse if they're dissatisfied, because they willingly chose to engage with the work without any expectation of quality. The reader lost nothing whatsoever by opening that fic other than some of their free time. (Note well the "free" time aspect.)

Many people use this analogy, and I completely agree: reading fanfic is like getting a free meal from a family member or friend. It's not going to be restaurant quality; you wouldn't expect it to be, even if that person is a great cook or professional chef. If you didn't like it, you don't demand they make you something better or refund you, because that'd be insane. You eat it, thank the person who graciously made you something, and keep your opinions to yourself unless they ask you for feedback.

And if you act like an asshole and tell them to their face that their cooking is awful, you shouldn't expect them to make you anything else. Same as fanfic writers often leave their fandoms because entitled readers complain about their work and demand tailor-made fic for free.

Some complain that they'll just read professional work from now on because fanfics are so awful, a la this gem:

What they don't seem to understand is that every writer needs to practice, and fanfic is one of the best ways to do so because there are no consequences.

No one springs from the womb as a literary genius; you need to spend years honing your talents. I've been writing for well over 15 years now, but I only started to become really confident in my skills after writing over 1 million words of fanfiction as practice. I wouldn't have bothered creating my own OCs and writing a trilogy if I hadn't gotten so much positive feedback from readers of my Touken Ranbu fics.

When you're a bitch to fanfic writers and castigate them for imperfections, you are directly limiting the professional literature you'll have in the future. You're telling people that unless they're perfect, they might as well not try at all, and then they don't reach that level. You expect free, professional-grade work that matches your current special interest, then wonder why your stock of new fics to enjoy is dwindling.

YOU are the problem when you waltz into AO3 with a consumer mindset. Not the fanfic writers providing you with free content. YOU.

And frankly, I wish someone would take your internet away until you take a course in fandom etiquette. Get out.

[pickledonyun]

𝙞 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙟𝙤𝙗 - 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨

genre: crack (technically yeosang x fem!reader but it's complicated?)

warning: blood mentioned (someone has a knife and they're stupid), also.... everyone is stupid

summary: you don't hate your summer job at the ice cream shop, you just hate that you're working this shift practically alone-- that's all. it doesn't help that the new guy struggles in the brain cell department and the most beautiful man you've ever seen is in line.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: would you believe that I usually only write angst? l o l. thanks for reading my first ever tumblr fic and I hope you enjoy it (: thanks to my actual wife @bangchxnnie for helping me figure out how posting here works <3 marry me (again)

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

There’s no real reason that working at an ice cream shop should be hard. It’s not good for anemic hands, maybe, or anyone who hates to see children smile. But the job itself, aside from the annoying intricacies of any food service work, should not be hard. 

That’s what makes sense to you, anyway. But alas, here you are— at ten before midnight, elbows deep in Beach Day while the himbo you’d had no time to train attempts and fails repeatedly to refund a particularly angry lady’s money. 

It’s fine. You absolutely will not cry— not when there’s a line of people out the door, their skin sunkissed and sticky from sea spray. You’d love for them all to leave, but you’re not an asshole. 

“Breezy, I need you to swap with me.” You say. 

“Nah, it’s breezy.” The kid answers. That’s where his self-inflicted nickname came from. You don’t even know his real name. The register beeps again, the red error message popping up. He’s trying to— what? You’ve never even seen that error before. In your four summers here, you’ve never seen it a single time.

You peel your gloves off and approach the register. “Go help the group of boys at the back.” You say, gesturing to a group of particularly pretty friends that just walked through the door. 

The kid, obviously unable to read the room, shoots you with finger guns. “Breezy.” He says. He walks as leisurely as possible towards them. You’re going to kill him. 

After the rush, though. 

You step up the register, a very fake and very apologetic smile on your face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Just give me one second.” 

“I’ve been waiting for this refund for fifteen minutes!” She snaps. It’s a lie, a complete exaggeration, and her voice carries. You can feel the stares of the other patrons on you, their conversations dampening just slightly at the commotion.  

You apologize again and click the proper buttons. Her refund receipt prints just a moment later. “I’m sorry again, ma’am. Have a blessed night.” 

That’s food-service for ‘fuck you’. 

Breezy walks over after a few moments, emerging from the back. “Yo, ice-mommy, I cut my finger.” 

You can do nothing but blink at the mortifying nickname. And then you look at Breezy’s finger, which is hardly attached at the tip. Your eyes widen and you usher him back into the back of the building. “Breezy, what?” You ask. “Why did you even have a knife? Why were you back here?” 

Breezy just shrugs. You grab your cell phone and call your boss, quickly explaining the situation. Your boss tells you that she will call Breezy’s mom. After you ensure that the kid isn’t going to bleed out, and that everything is sanitary, you wash your hands and return to the front. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologize. Your body is tense with the anxiety of now being a one-woman show. The line, at least, hasn’t gotten any longer. That group of boys are the last ones in line. You do your best to help everyone quickly and efficiently, but you can only move so fast. By the time you get to them you are nearly in tears and your hands are shaking. At least Breezy already gave half of them their ice cream before he cut off his finger. You finish up their orders, careful to avoid eye contact because one of them in particular is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, and then meet them at the register.

The especially pretty one pays, and you only charge him for six of the eight ice creams. It’s sort of an apology for them having to wait so long. ”I’m really sorry.” You say again, thanking him for his patience. 

He shrugs, a sweet smile on his face. “It’s okay. They’re like toddlers, they entertain themselves.” 

You glance over at the others, who have claimed a slightly too-small table by the window. The two tallest are arguing over something, and they’re doing it rather intensely. 

“They tried to drown each other at the pier this morning.” He adds, “I promised them that if they behaved I’d buy them ice cream.” 

“Effective.” You laugh, and it’s a pleasant sound. You’re about to say something else when you feel a tap on your shoulder. 

“The bleeding won’t stop.” Breezy says. 

“Breezy, you can’t be up here if you’re bleeding—” You begin, placing your hands on Breezy’s shoulders to usher him to the back again. “Did you apply pressure?” 

“Mom says I’m not supposed to pressure people into things.” 

“Applying pressure to your wound is not the same thing.” You say, and for some reason there are tears welling up in your eyes because how is he this stupid? 

“But what if it doesn’t want to?”

“Doesn’t want to what, Breezy?” 

He shrugs. He just shrugs. You can’t help the frustrated whine that escapes your lips. “I’m going to fucking kill Jongho for taking this weekend off.” 

“Isn’t he graduating from magic school?

“What did you smoke before your shift?” You ask. It’s a genuine question, unfortunately. 

Breezy shrugs. 

You’re crying when you return to the front. You don’t cry at work much. But you can’t help it.

And then you see the pretty guy from earlier, except now he’s standing there with an ice cream cone that you’re sure wasn’t his. He smiles kindly at you. “I’m really sorry for bothering you, but I think this may be peanut butter instead of caramel. I wouldn’t care but it’s Yunho’s and he’s got a really severe peanut allergy.” 

You can’t help it. You start weeping. Absolutely sobbing. The boy blinks at you, face distraught, but you can’t stop. 

“I’m sorry–” He apologizes, but you hold up a hand. 

“It’s not even you.” You blubber. “It’s just, Breezy’s being peer pressured by his fingers and Jongho’s graduating magic school and I’m pretty sure he’s going to need an amputation.” 

“Oh my god, he’s having an amputation?” He gasps.

You cry a little bit harder and walk away. The interaction is too far gone, anyway. It only takes a few seconds to fix the nutless ice cream cone, and you return it to him with high hopes that he doesn’t report you to the health department for crying in the front of house. “Here you go.” You say. “You know Jongho, right? Tell me your name so I can let him know you came by.” 

“Yeosang.” He answers, and fuck, it’s precious. He’s precious. You’re going to slam your head against the wall. 

“Okay, Yeosang. I’ll let him know. Just, if you see him, maybe don’t mention magic school. Or the amputation.” 

Yeosang nods, a slightly-amused, slightly-terrified look on his face, and then he goes back to his table to give Yunho his nut-free ice cream cone. 

As if summoned, your phone begins to ring. It’s none other than Jongho, your best friend and least favorite coworker. You step to the side so that you’re hidden by a cooler and wipe at your face. “Hello?”

“I buried the body but I dunno what to do next.” 

“What body?” You grumble.

“Your mom’s.” 

“Fuck off.” You say, a hand pressed to your eyes. “What do you want?” 

“I was just wondering how Mingi was doing on his shift.” Jongho says. You rack your brain for a face to attach to the name.

“Mingi?” You say. “Who the fuck is Mingi?” 

“You know? Tall blonde guy, a little disturbed.” 

“Breezy?!”

“Who the fuck is Breezy?” 

“I can’t talk to you right now.” You snap, tears already welling back up in your eyes. “I just sobbed in front of the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life and told him you were getting an amputation by accident.”

“You’re really nothing without me, huh? I leave for one day–”

You hang up on him. Jongho can suck your big–

“Excuse me?” 

You shove your phone in your pocket, mortified, and smile kindly. Your face is still damp from your tears. “How can I help you?”

“I just felt so bad for making you remake my ice cream that I wanted to repay the favor.” He says. It’s Yunho, then– a big puppy dog looking kid. He’s adorable. 

“It’s okay, really.” You promise, and you mean it. “Your health and safety is more important!”

He shrugs. “Still, thank you.” He says. He holds out a folded piece of paper.

You take it hesitantly. When you open it, a phone number is scrawled inside. You’re just about to politely decline when he points in Yeosang’s direction. “It’s a gift on my behalf for being difficult.”

Did he just give you Yeosang’s number as an apology? You glance between at the paper, then Yeosang, then the paper. Yeah. He did.

Your face grows hot, and you shove the paper into your pocket. He was absolutely not supposed to hear you say that Yeosang was the hottest man you’d ever seen. “Thank you.” You murmur, desperate to crawl in a hole and die. 

Yunho leans closer. “Promise me you’ll text him?” He asks. 

You hesitate, but then you nod. 

You’re met with a bright smile, and then Yunho’s gone. The paper feels heavy in your pocket, but it’s a weight you find you don’t mind carrying. 

“Yo, ice-mommy.” 

When you turn back around, Breezy is standing there with a smile on his face. “I didn’t peer pressure my finger, but we talked it out. Consensus gentium and all that. It stopped bleeding. We’re cool. It said, right on, Mingi, right on. ”

There’s not even a way to begin to process what he just said. You gesture at his hand, which he has a paper towel wrapped around. “You’ve literally cut a piece of your finger off.”

Breezy just shrugs.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for sabotaging my friend's gaming account?

I, Yuki (18F), play a game that has an optional coop mode with my friends. I'll start out with who is involved in this. My friends are AJ (18TF [Trans female for those who can't tell]), Andy (18M), Mary (17F, she is also my cousin), and Nina (16F).

Another context is that this is a gacha game.

AJ has a thing where she doesn't like it when we have similar characters on our accounts. At least during the character's first run. She is fine with us getting them on their rerun but not during the first run. We had all promised that we wouldn't pull on characters she claimed if she didn't pull on characters we claimed. AJ agreed.

Now here is where I may be the asshole. Since the characters have a trail quest where we can try them out, I did the trails and discovered that I actually really liked one of the characters AJ claimed. Since I had saved a lot of the in-game currency, I used them to pull on the banner but did not tell the others. I was only caught because two months later when the character did not have a rerun I had joined coop with my friends as said character accidentally.

AJ was livid and spouted on and on about how I broke my promise. Mary and Nina agreed with her and said that this meant the character I had claimed that was coming soon would be AJ's only. I said no and that I would still pull for them. AJ called me a jerk but Andy defended me saying "it is just a game. Yuki is not wrong to do this. Plus, AJ always claims the most characters and usually doesn't get them the first time around. Sometimes we have to wait up to a year before the rerun happens and it isn't fair. Let's just stop claiming characters and let everyone pull freely on everything." I agreed with what he said, but AJ did not like the idea. We all moved past the conversation after Mary and Nina begrudgingly said that claims were no longer valid (Andy spoke to them in dms over it).

Fast forward to a few weeks later. I had let Mary play on my account for a little because I needed to do somethings. I returned a few hours later and found out that all the 5 star equipment I had was gone. All the good weapons? Also gone. I asked Mary what had happened, and she said that she let AJ log in to it. When I confronted AJ, she smugly said that she went in and used all my good equipment to enhance the 1 star equipment she grabbed for me in chests. I yelled at her for doing that and said that she had no right to do that. AJ then said "well you shouldn't have pulled for the character I claimed and broken your promise. You deserve this." Andy helped me get everything back without inviting everyone else. But that took over 9 months to do. I decided to plot my revenge during that time. I told the group I forgave AJ eventhough I hadn't/

another fast forward. Nina had been given access to AJ's account to help her do some quests. I asked Nina if she wanted to rest and offered to do the quests. She accepted. When I got into the account, I went through all of AJ's characters and unequipped their 5 star weapons + equipment. Then I used it all to enhance 1 star equipment. I also decided to spend $100 on the game to get the gacha currency and then called my bank to get a refund, setting AJ's account in the negatives. Knowing AJ, she would refuse to put $100 into the game to fix it since the money she has saved is for her transition. Nina must have realized what I was doing because I got booted out of the account and AJ had angrily messaged me about it. I said "you reap what you sow."

Mary and Nina are all calling me an asshole for doing that. They ended up contributing to help AJ save her account due to the negative funds. Even Andy says I went too far. But I feel like I am justified.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[ominoose]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Pairing: Android!Nathan Bateman x GN!Depressed!Reader Summary: Your therapist advises you buy an android as a companion. He's a pain. Warnings: None, just fluff. WC: 1.5k Thank you @jinjersnapz for beta reading :*

The moment he stepped out of the box you wanted a refund. Thinly veiled disappointed creased his eyebrow and tugged down his lips as the android, Nathan, took in the cabin. It wasn't much, that you'd concede, wooden floors, walls and roof with a bathroom, office, kitchenette, living room and bedroom. The basic rooms filled with what one needed to live, or as your therapist called it “bare essentials” and “not willing to take up your own space”. Bullshit, essentially.

And now the result of not listening to said bullshit was taking in your abode like it was a one star Air BnB that posted fake five star reviews. He probably wanted a refund as much as you. That was an accurate description of life since he was shipped into it, ‘I want a refund.’

“You're wasting time.” Said the most annoying alarm clock since the creation of alarm clocks.

You only responded by turning over and pulling the covers over your head before they were ripped off the bed and cold air attacked your now exposed and cold skin.

“Stop spending all your time in bed just to go bitch to your therapist about how you're worthless and your life has no meaning. Either get your ass up or I'll dismantle the bed and hide the screws.”

The petty, blunt asshole would. Last week he messed with the dryer's wiring, leaving your bed sheets wet until you finished your book (that he'd recommended, ordered on your Amazon and held you at laundry point to read), citing “intellectual enrichment” as the reason.

Getting out of bed was rewarded with him asking for a cup of coffee while he worked out (apparently the extra use of his metal tendons strengthened them over time), knowing full well he'd only complain about it being cheap. It was a hellish routine, but a routine nonetheless,  as your therapist annoyingly felt the need to point out every session. Begrudgingly, you'd also be forced to admit it was the truth. He got you out of bed, engaging with the house, energizing yourself and having some sort of start for the day. 

“Why don't we go out for a hike?” Nathan rounded you to grab the steaming cup of coffee, grimacing at the taste. 

Broad shoulders rolled openly, clad in simple grey tank top and black joggers. Despite knowing he had no skin, no actual flesh underneath the tanned synthetic layers stretched over his biceps looked soft enough to bite. Not that you'd let the android know.

“A hike? Outside? Today?” The spontaneous request caught you off guard, already openly reluctant. 

The deadpan stare he gave you behind the silver frames wasn't fond. 

“You live in Butt-Fuck Nowhere and want to just sit in this shitehole. Wasting your innate opportunity to explore nature's beauty.”

“Yeah, I do. Have a fun hike Nathan.” That statement was meant to be closed by you swiftly turning and walking back to your room, but a warm, calloused hand gripped your arm sternly and rooted you to the spot.

“How am I meant to have fun if you aren't there to bug? A walk in nature is an easy hack to ease your disease riddled brain and you don't take advantage of it. It's a wonder androids haven't taken over yet.” 

The way he refused to handle you and your depression like a porcelain doll was something you loathed to love about him. How odd that an arrogant android treated you with the most humanity.

“I'll upload a virus into your cloud if you don't let me go, see who has a ‘disease riddled organ then.”

“An STD threat, how cute. Try successfully updating your Sims mod folder and I'll personally walk you through the virus myself.” Logically, there shouldn’t be a lively spark in his eyes, but it was there all the same, goading you into spats with him, time and time again.

“I bought you, the least you could do is fix my Sims!” Another thing you hated needing from him was the way he fed and stoked your fire, turning you from dying embers to a roaring bonfire. It always happened before you were aware of it, always when he got that cocky smirk as if this was exactly what he wanted.

And following routine he simply walked away, rolling those ridiculously handsome shoulders to add salt to the wound and leaving you to seeth.

“Hurry up and get ready.”

When you finally crested the hill, sun shining down through dark pine trees, birds chirping around you, part of you conceded it was worth it. The other part was whining over the stitch aching at your side.

“God I feel like death.” The panting breaths came out as a fog in the cold forest, but Nathan paid no mind to the temperature or your whining. 

You never once questioned his ability to enjoy the cold whistle of the wind, whether or not he could feel the numbing chill in his finger tips. Why did it matter why his favourite spot was the waterfall, always cold no matter the season, a hint of a smile plucking at synthetic lips when the mist tickled his beard. It didn’t occur that it should matter, but it was noticed by him the way your mouse didn’t entertain the news articles discussing the ethics of how closely androids now resembled a human, drawing comparisons to fictional history of Dune.

Nathan knew more than anyone that you weren’t the academic, whizzkid genius he was. Your mind physically could not scramble through numbers and piece together advanced mathematic equations. You weren’t book smart, but it wasn’t something he considered lacking. 

You dismissed stupid opinions (like the aforementioned article) as if they didn’t exist to you as easily as you stood toe to toe with him to defend other stupid opinions (Aristotle was just some annoying old guy). You were acutely aware of your depression, the way your mind functioned against you and plodded on, taking it in your stride your own way.

As you keeled over, huffing out cold whisps, his dark brown eyes scanned every inch of you. There was no part of you he hadn’t cataloged and stored carefully in his memory banks, no quirk or habit was unfamiliar to him. Yet it always felt like a small surprise to see them unfold in the intimate privacy of the small bubble you both shared.

“Why’re you staring? You better not say I told you so, I’ll ship you back and enjoy going back to my solitude inside.” 

“You wouldn’t have to be alone. You’re pretty enough to coax someone into your little hovel.” Said like a passing comment on the gathering clouds.

“Pretty?” Said as a reaction, completely caught off guard.

“Yeah? How many times do we need to go over how your mind will distort how you perceive reality before you finally listen to me, sweetheart?” How was he managing to still be so condescending while arguing about how beautiful you were, how the softly filtered sunlight through the trees settled against your hair like the sun was made to do just that

No wonder humans had wasted so much time on artsy poetic bullshit since the BC’s, beauty really could be all you had the capacity to think about.

“Based on what? I thought you didn’t abide by societal constructs Mr Bateman?” It was a shoddy attempt at acting normal, but the supercomputer android would’ve already noticed the quiver in your voice and the red dusting your face. Maybe if you pretended you didn’t know he could do that, he just wouldn’t. 

“I’m abiding by my standards.” His eyes stared right into you. The words words hit you right in the stomach, no time to brace.

And he takes advantage of the hesitation.

“We both know I’m capable of noticing when you ogle me when I work out. We both know I'm equipt to sense when your heart rate picks up, which it does every time I lean over your shoulder to correct your shitty work. We both know I can literally measure the heat in your cheeks right now, want me to?” 

The speed at which your head shook had your hair lashing your face, something that only grew his smirk.

“You sure?”

“Fuck yo-” 

His lips were warm when they cut you off, subtly soft in contrast to the calloused hands cupping your face. Your mind instantly jumps to satisfaction that you’d been right in your assumption about the feel of his lips until the actual realisation that he was kissing you kicked in, and by that point he was already pulling away. You didnt even have time to savour how the cold metal of his glasses pressed against your nose.

“Lets go, it’s gonna start pissing down and I hate fogged up glasses.” 

Nathan was already walking back home, back turned until he realised you weren’t already trailing after him. He turned. You were still staring, lips slightly parted and wide eyed, not yet finished processing what had happened. His smirk turned soft.

“C’mon sweetheart, I need my shitty cup of coffee.”

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,066

A/N: Shoutout to my hubby for helping my break through my writer's block on this chapter 🥰

“Who was that?” Benny asks despite likely knowing the answer. When you’re born and raised somewhere, it’s pretty easy to spot someone out of place. And for Dean to approach an apparent stranger pointed to one person.

“That’s the woman staying in my guest house for the next month.” Dean confirms as he retakes his seat, starting to pick up a fry but throwing back onto his plate as he thinks about your smug smile as you ate your fries in his face. 

Benny looks over Dean to where you’re seated at the counter, now enjoying a sandwich as your legs swing underneath you, too short for the stool you’re sitting on. Benny had watched the whole interaction, and when you had turned to Dean a few times, Benny got a good look at your profile.

“She’s cute” Benny notes as he takes a bite of his own meal, washing it down with a gulp of coffee and a grin. 

“Don’t even start, Ben.” Dean shoots him a pointed look. Dean had eyes, it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed that himself, but he was too annoyed to care. “If you think she’s so cute, why don’t you have a go at her?” Dean jabs as he picks up his burger and takes a wide bite, sauce splashing on his cheek. 

Benny just chuckles and shakes his head.

“I got enough women in my life.” Between his ex and his daughter, his hands were full. “And I’m not looking to get washed up in your mess.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Fucking Lisa,” he grumbles before taking another bite. Couldn’t even enjoy his lunch break. It’s like Lisa knew exactly what to do to get under his skin. Which isn’t a surprise.

Back when they were happy, Dean and Lisa knew everything about each other; what they each liked, what they loved, what drove them crazy. It’s why Dean would bring home white chocolate and flowers after Lisa had a rough day at work, or why Lisa would bake a variety of pies in the early days after Dean’s father, John, had passed away, knowing Dean didn’t want to talk about it but it was a way to offer him comfort without being too touchy feely, because Dean hated that when he was younger.  

But now, Lisa was weaponizing the information she had, knowing Dean liked his routines and his personal space. She had thoroughly invaded them without even stepping foot in town. Instead she sent this woman, Y/N, to do her dirty work for her. 

He drops his burger with a sigh and glances over his shoulder; you’re scrolling through your phone as you take another bite of your sandwich. 

He briefly wonders if you’re texting Lisa, the two of you laughing about how now that you’ve taken over his guest house, you’ve also wormed your way into his lunch spot. But Dean knows better. He knows he’s been the aggressor in his run-ins with you. You’re either a great actress or truly were just an innocent pawn in Lisa’s slimy scheme, and Dean’s pretty sure it’s the latter. 

It makes him think back to this morning, how you mentioned you were out of work and couldn’t afford to go anywhere else, even if Dean refunded your stay. You’re likely going through some sort of shit if you’re willing to use whatever money you have to get away for a full month. 

He sighs through his nose. You had offered a fresh start, and he had brushed past you like an absolute asshole. 

He likes to think he wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time he would have happily shook your hand, giving you a big grin in the process hoping to maybe get to know you better, find out what you like to drink and buy you one and then see what would happen next. 

But that was youthful innocence then, back when Dean didn’t realize that when you gave your full self to someone, it gave them the power to use it against you one day.

He’s about to consider going back over to you and apologizing, taking you up on your offer, but Billie steps in his path, dropping off a check and a box for his unfinished burger. 

Dean blinks hard out of his thoughts and gives Billie a big smile before reaching into his wallet and dropping enough money to cover his meal and tip, adding it on top of Benny’s own pile. 

“See you boys again soon.” She gives them a wink before they gather their coats, Benny affixing his cap before zipping up his jacket. 

Benny lets Dean lead the way, Dean’s eyes glued to your back as he passes by before he steps back out into the wintery overcast and heads back towards the garage.

After you finished lunch, you continued your stroll down Main Street, restraining yourself to just window shopping during your inaugural visit. You would have four weeks to shop, and you didn’t wait to explore everything the town had to offer on the first day. But now you had a good idea of all the places you would be spending your days for the next month; BILLIES was the only restaurant on main, but there was also a coffee shop, and bar that opened at 2pm. There was a vinyl shop, a bookstore, a few thrift and antique shops, as well as a modern apothecary and a fifties-looking pharmacy. Overall, the town was charming. It’s one of those places that if you were to leave the city, you could envision yourself living here. There was just enough to do to keep you busy and it felt nice to be away from the constant noise and hustle that typically filled your days. You were looking forward to decompressing and maybe even getting to know some of the non-Dean locals while you were here. 

Once your in-town exploration was complete, you headed to the nearest grocery store, only five minutes off Main Street. You loaded up on food for the week, toiletries, some basic cleaning supplies to use during your stay, and a few magazines to keep you busy. You also stopped off at the liquor store to grab another bottle of wine as well as a bottle of whiskey for nights you wanted something a little stronger. 

You were settled in the living room, dusk overshadowing the forest around you, when you hear the rumble of an engine. You peek through the floor to ceiling window, catching headlights flick off as you hear a door slam. 

Honey, I’m home. You smirk to yourself, thinking about a grumpy Dean stomping up the stairs of the front porch. 

You meant what you said about a fresh start, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him to yourself. Afterall, he was an asshole, and you didn’t owe him anything at the end of the day. You had gone out of your way to be nice to him and offer an olive branch, and he shoved it back in your face. 

Your phone vibrates next to you, and you smile as you see your best friend’s face pop up on the screen. 

“Helllooooo.” You answer, your smile growing when you hear her voice.

“Hi!” Sydney chirps. “How’s the getaway?” You snort through your nose. 

“Not exactly what I was picturing.” You glance over your shoulder, back to the now-dark driveway. 

“Let me guess, the pictures of the cabin are super outdated and it actually sucks.” Sydney speculates.

“I wish.” You roll your eyes and turn back to the muted tv. “Turns out the woman who rented me this place doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“Soooo, you got scammed?” 

“Not entirely.” You sigh. “Her husband still lives here – ex husband.” You correct yourself, Dean’s voice ringing in your ears.

“I’m still confused?” You chuckle, picturing Syd’s scrunched face. 

“So was I. Turns out the renters are going through quite the bitter divorce. The husband still lives in the main house but sounds like she left. I guess she rented this place out as a way to piss him off or something. That’s why it was so cheap.”

“Shit,” Sydney hisses and you raise your brows, even though she can’t see you.

“Yeah, shit. The guy almost gave me a heart attack my first night. Came storming in with a gun while I was in the hot tub, thought I was trespassing.” 

“HE PULLED A GUN ON YOU?” Sydney screeches and you have to move the phone away from your ear.

“He didn’t point it at me or anything, he just had it.” You clarify, knowing that Sydney is about to spiral into worst-case what-ifs. 

“Still.” 

“Regardless, he hasn’t pulled it out since. But he has been a massive dick.” You recount your run-ins with Dean so far. 

“No wonder she left him, sounds like an asshole.” Sydney chimes in after you finish telling her about lunch.

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’s much better. I reached out to get a refund for my stay so I could get out of here and she’s refusing. And also, who does something like this?”

“A bitch and a dick, sound like a perfect match.” Syd quips and you laugh. This is why you loved Sydney. The two of you always kept each other laughing, no matter the situation. 

After another twenty minutes, you and Syd say goodbye and you settle in for the night.

Before you know it, your first week is coming to an end. You’ve thoroughly enjoyed sleeping in every day, grabbing coffee in town before deciding which shop to hit. So far you’ve spent most of your time in the bookstore, getting to know the owners, Carrie and Richard Owens. The two have been married over forty years, and this bookshop was their post-retirement dream after working in the city most of their lives. They had been here for almost ten years now and loved every single moment of it, though they missed their children who still lived in the city. Seeing them happy and living their dreams, even in their sixties, gave you hope. There were definitely nights you couldn’t sleep, wondering what you had done and thinking about what you were going to do. Your doubts outweighed your hope at times, but chatting with the Owens left you with a sense of calm and a new book recommendation with each visit. 

Now it was Sunday evening. You had cooked dinner and were trying to focus on the local evening news, but you felt antsy. You hadn’t accounted for just how lonely you would be. You would talk to your mom and Syd most days, either calling them or texting during the times they were busy with their lives, but when you found yourself “home,” there was only so much tv and books to keep you company. 

You pop yourself off the couch and head to the bedroom, trading your sweats for jeans and throwing on your cutest top. You hadn’t yet visited the local bar, Max’s on Main, and figured it could be the perfect cure to your boredom. You could enjoy a drink or two while being around actual people. And hey, you were single, maybe someone would catch your eye and you could live out a whirlwind vacation romance. 

When you get downtown, the street parking is completely full, so you take a few spins down the side streets until you finally find a spot, about three blocks down from the bar. Apparently Sunday evening was popping. 

As you step into the bar, you’re surprised at just how busy it is, but then you notice a hockey game on a few of the screens and patrons wearing matching white and blue jerseys. 

As your eyes roam the room, you notice a few spots at the bar, which was exactly what you wanted. This wasn’t the first time you were going to a bar when you were lonely. If nothing else, usually the bartenders were friendly enough to chat with you here and there and take an edge off the isolation. 

You settle on your stool, unfurling your scarf and zipping off your jacket, letting it rest against the chairback. 

A man about your age throws a coaster down in front of you and places his hands on the bar.

“What can I getcha?” He asks as the crowd roars. You peek at one of the screens behind the bar, seeing a team celebrating. 

“Any chance you have hot toddies?” The weekend had been freezing, and it was too cold for your usual cocktail. You needed something that would warm you, ideally with a splash of bourbon. 

“Sure thing.” He nods and steps away to turn on an eclectic kettle. 

You rest against the bartop, a dark wood that runs down the length of the bar. As you look around, you notice the layout is very similar to BILLIES, but flipped. There’s more high top tables, but the booths back along the opposite side of the room. But whereas BILLIES was more updated, this bar looked like it hadn’t been decorated or remodeled in a good fifteen-plus years. 

Most of the patrons are men of various ages, almost all of whom are watching the game. There is one table full of women, but they too don the same hockey jerseys and are just as invested as their peers. 

“Start a tab?” The bartender returns with your drink, placing it carefully atop your coaster. You reach into your wallet, pull out your card, and hand it to the bartender. You’re not expecting to have more than two drinks since you’re driving, but it was just easier to start a tab versus get a bill for each order.  

After the bartender walks away, you wrap your hands around the crystal, humming at the warmth as your shoulders drop. You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes as the sweet aroma of honey and bourbon steams your senses. 

“Good drink?” You open your eyes to find a man smiling down at you, and you feel the warmth of your drink spread to your cheeks. He takes the seat next to you, his smile never fading underneath his five-o-clock shadow and a swoosh of blonde hair.

“If it tastes as good as it smells, then I hope so.” You return his grin. 

“I’m Nick,” he puts his beer on the counter and raises his hand towards you. You take it, his skin a cool contrast to yours.

“Y/N.” You offer.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” His eyes almost have a twinkle under the bar lights, and his never-fading smile highlights his sharp jawline. 

“It’s my first time here.” You relax into your seat. “I’m visiting for the month.” 

“Family?” He takes a sip of his beer, and you match his movements with your drink, feeling the bourbon settle soundly in your stomach. 

“Renting. I’m from the city, taking a sabbatical.” You keep it vague. No need to spill your life story to a complete stranger in the first minute of meeting him. 

“How’s your visit so far?”

Dean pours the last of the beer into his cup, emptying the group’s pitcher. He takes a big gulp, putting back about half the pint before he stands. 

“Gonna grab another round. Anyone need anything?” Dean offers the enthralled group as he stands from the table. It wasn’t that he didn’t like hockey, but despite growing up here, the Rangers weren’t his team of choice. He grew up watching the Blues with his dad, and continues to cheer for them to this day, so he doesn’t mind stepping out during a power play to grab another drink. It likely meant there would be no wait at the bar. 

He grabs the empty pitcher and carries it with him, resting along the curve of the bar as he flags down Jacob. 

“Another pitcher?” Jacob assumes, and Dean hands over the empty container.

As he waits, he taps his fingers against the wood, taking in the crowd when he notices someone at the end of the bar and his shoulders tense. 

Nick Olszewski.

Dean went to high school with Nick. Grade A douchebag then and grade A douchebag now. He may have even broken Nick’s nose once senior year.  

He’s chatting with someone, definitely a woman.

Poor girl. Dean thinks as Jacob returns with the pitcher, and Dean thanks him. 

Dean heads back to the table, dropping the pitcher right in the middle before, for some reason, he takes a glance back towards Nick. And from this angle, he can see exactly the poor girl he’s talking to. 

Shit. 

It’s Y/N. 

Dean turns away, shaking his head. 

He should stay out of it. He and Y/N hadn’t crossed paths since their lunch run-in a few days ago, and he had planned to keep it that way. 

You’re an adult, and free to chat with whomever you want. Even if he’s a complete dickbag. 

But then he thinks back to a few days ago. How he was a total asshole to you, and he had regretted it. He was better than that. This wasn’t the guy he always was. 

Maybe this was his chance at redemption. 

“You good, brother?” Benny looks up, realizing Dean hasn’t sat back down. 

Dean licks his lips and runs a hand down his face.

“I’ll be right back.”

Nick’s hand relaxes easily on your thigh, and you’re leaning into him, your elbow resting on the bar top. 

He was telling you a work story; he’s a real estate agent in the area, and how a couple decided to get a divorce in the middle of a showing. 

“Wait, so did they actually get divorced, or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Oh big time. I reached out a few weeks later to see if they were still interested in the house and the guy told me.”

“Wow,” you take a big sip of your second drink, courtesy of Nick. 

You’re about to ask him a follow up question but you’re interrupted. 

“Thanks for keeping my seat warm, Nick.” A large hand pats Nick’s shoulder, and you both turn towards your uninvited guest, your eyes widening. “But think it’s time for you to go.” 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Keep reading

NEXT TIME:

“You’re welcome for saving you.” Dean’s voice has you turning back in your seat. He’s now next to you, literally and figuratively having taken Nick’s spot. 

“Saving me?” You sneer. “More like ruining my night.” You grab your drink and take your own big gulp, needing the bourbon to do more than just warm you now. 

“Tell me, Dean.” You narrow your eyes at him. “What have I done to you that you just think it’s okay to bother me whenever you want?” Your voice quickens as you feel the liquor settle. 

“Because I’ve stayed out of your way, like I promised. I tried to be nice to you. It’s not my fault your ex-wife dragged me into scheme of hers. So if you have a problem, take it up with her!” Your voice raises but is drowned out as the Rangers score another goal, the bar erupting in whoops and cheers as patrons high-five one another. 

Dean runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, nodding his head at your words as you stare him down. 

“I was saving you from the biggest asshole in town.” He responds once the bar settles back down, his voice calm and even. You raise your eyebrows.

“Are you sure about that?” You challenge. From where you were sitting, he seemed to be winning that award himself.

Forever Tags

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[justmeinadaze]

Pushing the Barrier Part 3 (Eddie X Reader) 

A/N: Like you guys I am extremely invested in their story. My brain has been all over the place so please excuse any grammatical errors. Holiday seasons are always harder for me. I love you guys and your thoughts on this story. I read them all <3

Warnings: I don't want reveal too much and spoil things but still got stripper Eddie here. He does talk and break down in great detail his trauma and the things he deals with. :(. Word Count: 3967

You slipped out of his apartment early in the morning while Eddie was still sleeping. You couldn’t sleep at all. The entire cab ride to your apartment you thought about last night. Everything about Eddie and the way he made you feel was amazing. That look in his eyes and the tone in his voice though remained front and center in your brain. 

“I’m waiting for you.”

No matter what, you would end up hurting him. Hell, you were hurting him now. You were married to someone else. Your last name was someone elses. You did not belong to Eddie. Yes, your husband was an asshole but he was a good man once, right? Why else did you marry him?

“Excuse me, can you take me here instead please?”

You gave the cab driver the address as he swiveled around. 

#############

When you walk into your husband’s office, his head is buried in paperwork. His eyes flick up towards you as you enter but he doesn’t move to greet you. 

“Must have had a good time last night. You didn’t come home.”

“I stayed with a friend.” He answered with a sarcastic hm. “What did you expect? You yelled at me and said I looked like a whore.” Your husband exhaled as he leaned back in his gigantic chair. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even noticed I didn’t come home. You’re never there.”

“Here we go again. Look—”

You raise your hand to silence him. “Please. I… I’m your wife. I miss you, honey. Don’t you miss me when you’re here?” His eyes softened as he watched you speak. “Do you remember our first date? We stayed out all night walking around the city and just talked till the sun came up.” You both chuckle at the memory. “I miss that. I miss how we used to be. I’m so sick of being alone.”

You husband rose and walked to your side of his desk, leaning down on his knees to get to your level. “I miss you to, baby. I know I’ve been really busy here. I’m trying to make it to where soon I won’t have to work so hard. I promise I’ll do better, sweetheart.” 

Eddie flashed in your head at the name and you tried to shake the image. You craned your neck, planting your lips on his. “Ok, I trust you. I love you.”

“I love you to, baby.”

###################

“Hello?” You answer the phone and are surprised when Mira’s lyrical voice comes through. 

“Hey mama. It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve come by. Is everything ok?”

“Yes? Do you do this check up with everyone who stops showing up?” You try to keep your voice low so your husband doesn’t wonder who you’re talking to. It was a Saturday and to your surprise he was actually trying to make good on his promise. You two had been watching television when the phone rang. 

“No, baby. I actually have a favor to ask. Can you come by and see Eddie?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Wha…I…um…”

“I don’t ask questions. I told you; we pride ourselves on privacy so I don’t know what happened between you two but since you stopped showing up his entire attitude has changed. He’s a lot more feisty than normal. I actually had to give out a refund for a client experience and send him home the other day. He’s a good man but if this keeps up I may have to fire him.”

“No! Mira, don’t do that.”

“He’s working a short shift today. I don’t have anyone booked for him and I won’t even charge you for this little counseling session. Just please, get his mind right.”

You sigh as you hang up the phone. 

“Who was that?”, your husband asks as you head back towards him. 

“One of my friends needing a pick me up. Her boyfriend broke up with her.”

“Oh no. Well, baby, you should go check on her. Bring some of the hard stuff.”, he points toward your liquor cabinet. 

You climb into his lap and kiss him on the forehead making him chuckle. “I’ll be right back.”

#################

You feel extremely nervous as you open the door to Eddie’s room. When your eyes land on him your heart breaks in half. While he still looks handsome in his jeans and Metallica shirt, his eyes look worn as if he hasn’t slept in days. His head was leaning against his fingers as they pressed into his temple. He stared into his own reflection angrily. 

“Hey Eddie.”

His eyes widened as he quickly got to his feet and marched toward the glass in front of him. 

“Turn this fucking thing off NOW.” When you don’t respond or do what he asks he slams his palm into the glass causing you to jump. “You snuck out of my apartment. No note or anyway to reach you. You disappear for two weeks. I think I earned the right to see your face. Unless you’re too much of a fucking coward.”

He laughs to himself as he sits back down. “God damn, Sweetheart. What the fuck was I thinking? I guess we both had each other pegged wrong, huh? I thought you were different but, nope, you’re just like everyone else. I’m surprised you didn’t leave some money on my nightstand before you left.”

“Eddie, please. That’s not what this was.”

“Then what was it!?”

“I really do care about you but I owe it to the man I married to try.”

“Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about? He doesn’t give a fuck about you. With everything you’ve told me what makes you think this time is going to be any different?!”

“Eddie, you don’t know me or my relationship! He was a good man once and he really has been trying.”

“Oh yeah? Then why are you back here with me?”

“Because Mira told me that she was going to fire you if you didn’t get your shit together!”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Eddie, you can’t afford to lose this job.”

His eyes angrily turned towards the front of the cube. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to pretend like you care about my well-being. Just get the fuck out of here and go back to your ‘blissful’ marriage.”

You flick the switch, turning off the two-way mirror and meet his fury filled stare. “I’m doing this because I care, Eddie.”

“Naw, baby. You’re doing this because you care about you. I should have known better. Selfish just like everyone else who enters my life.”

“I don’t want you to wait for me.” His head turns abruptly at your words. “I can’t have you waiting for me. It’s not fair to you.” You hug your arms around you. “You deserve to be with someone who puts you first.”

“So do you…” He sighs before you notice his eyes light up with an idea. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Can you grab Mira for me?”

Without question you leave the room, grabbing Mira, and bringing her to Eddie. You wait outside in the hallway as the talk. After a few minutes she exits, smiling. 

“Man is crafty; I’ll give him that. This way my dear.” She takes your hand in hers and leads you towards the back of the building but instead of going out the back door, you two pass it looping around to another hallway. Mira digs in her pocket for a set of keys and opens the door in front of her gesturing you inside. “If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can just open the door and leave. It’s only locked to keep people out, not in.”

When you step inside the lights above you automatically turn on. You glance around taking note of the familiar throne chair and the guitar leaning next to it. Taking a seat, you look in front of you and are met with only your reflection. 

“It’s a bit odd at first, I know.” You glance above you at the sound of Eddie’s voice. “I have to admit, I’ve never been on this side before. It’s kind of empowering.” You smile softly as you stand up and move towards the front of the glass. 

“I thought maybe it might help a bit to put you in my shoes. In the corner there is my jacket. You can put it on if you want to.”

You do put on his leather jacket, inhaling the smell of his cologne. 

“Go ahead, Princess. Take a seat.” Doing as he asks, you sit in the throne again, gazing at your image in the mirror. “Now, picture this. You’re a 20 something year old man from a small town in Indiana. You left your friends and uncle, the only family you care about, behind to move to New York to make something of yourself.”

“What about my parents? Where are they?”

His silence is tearing you apart. You would give anything to just be able to see his face. 

“Your parents don’t talk to you anymore. Your dad is an abusive dickhead who’s in prison for pretty much the rest of his life and your mom surrendered you over to your uncle when you were a kid because she didn’t want to deal with you.”

A tear escaped your eye and you quickly wiped it away. You suddenly hear a soft knock on the glass in front of you and your eyes move towards the sound. 

“You’d been struggling to make ends meet so you do some research and find Mira’s place here. You start doing this gig for strangers and 98% of them you can’t see. Some of them are extremely dirty.” His tone changes to much more gruff, authoritative one. “Take off your pants.”

You look up at the glass, your eyes searching frantically for him. Eddie’s voice comes through a bit more sternly. “I said take off your pants.” You do as your told, rising off the chair and pushing off your jeans, kicking them to the side. 

“Good girl. Keep the shirt and jacket on. You look fucking sexy like that.” You felt your pussy start to drip at his words but something still felt off. It wasn’t the Eddie you had come to know. He wasn’t in front of you with that soft voice, telling you how beautiful you are. This really felt like someone else behind a window that only wanted one thing. 

“Spread your legs open. Atta girl. Move your panties to the side so I can see that pretty cunt.” You did as he asked as his heavy breathing echoed into the cube

“Eddie, please tell me what you’re doing over there.”

“Oh no, Princess. You don’t get to ask me questions. I tell you what to do. Come here, babe. Crawl to the front on your hands and knees for me.” You hear the sound of his grunts as you move towards him. You place your palm against the glass and you can’t see it but he does the same. 

A string of expletives including words like “slut” and “whore” leave his mouth as he pants. You suddenly hear his breathing slow and then nothing but silence. 

You feel yourself start to panic. “Eddie?” You smack the glass. “Eddie, are you still there?!”

“Now, imagine,” you breathe a sigh of relief as he continues in his soft Eddie tone. “One night, this beautiful voice comes through. She just wants to talk to you about things. Mostly about how her husband abandons her at night to fall asleep alone. Sometimes he doesn’t come home and one night when she was feeling particularly beautiful, he told her she looked a whore.”

You feel the anger slowly rise into your chest as your bottom lip begins to tremble. He knocks again a little further to your left so you shuffle towards it, knocking back. 

“This beautiful voice finally allows you to see her face, taste her lips, feel her body. She falls asleep in your bed but then the next morning you wake up and she’s gone. You could try calling her but you don’t have her phone number and Mira won’t give it to you because ‘we pride ourselves on privacy’,” he mimics her voice. “You can’t go to her apartment because you don’t know where she lives. The only place you’ve ever seen her is in there,” Eddie points to the glass, “and at a restaurant. Every day for the next two weeks you check in that restaurant thinking she may show up but she doesn’t. You play your gig at the bar she saw you at praying she may show up looking for you but nope.”

“You sit in that glass confinement for two…weeks… waiting,” Eddie flips the switch and his upset eyes meet your sad ones. “Then she finally shows up and says she owes it to her husband to try because she cares about you.” He tilts his head, watching your face.

“Eddie, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Why do you stay with him?”

You shrug as the tears start to fall. “He’s my husband. I—”

“Don’t say that again. Don’t say you owe him. You owe him shit especially with how he treats you. Do you honestly believe he’ll change? You need to leave him.”

 “Would you?! What if the tables were turned?” You stand up and tower over him. “What if I told you this bothered me? You being naked and jacking off in front of people made me angry? What if I said I couldn’t be with someone who does something like this? What if I said ‘Eddie, it’s me or this’? What would you do?” Eddie glares up at you as you yell through the glass and you don’t even wait for an answer. 

“Yeah. That’s what I fucking thought. So don’t you dare stand there and tell me what to do with my life!” You watch was he turns with clenched fists and exits the room slamming the door. “Oh, that’s nice. AND I’M THE FUCKING COWARD!” You scream after him as you repeatedly slam the barrier in front of you.

The door behinds you suddenly opens as Eddie flies through it until he’s in front of you. His hand reaches out to grip your chin, making you look directly at him. 

“I would choose you. I would choose you every fucking time. No questions asked.” His hand released you but his body remained where it was. “If you want to go play house with your husband go ahead. That’s not going to stop me from waiting for you.”

Your jaw tightens as you swallow and Eddie sees it. “Oh yeah? And how many girls have you said that to? How many times have you sat in here and said something that to someone you’re attracted to?”

His face visibly flinches as his chest rises and falls heavily.

“I’m not going to stand here and pretend like I’ve never found other women I’ve seen in here attractive. The ones that have actually allowed me to see them. You, Y/N, are the only person I’ve actually ran after when they walked out of this room. You are the only woman ever since I moved here that I’ve invited to see me play with my band. YOU are the only person on this fucking planet that I would stick around for even though I know I’m her second choice.”

“Eddie, fuck! It’s things like that. You deserve better than being someone ‘second choice’.”

“And so do you. Look, whether it’s work or…something else that man is always putting you second. No matter how you choose to defend it.”

Eddie reaches his hand out to gently caress your cheek with his thumb. “Y/N, you were just gone.”, his voice comes out barely above a whisper. You tackled your arms around his waist and his arms came down around you, pressing you against him. “If you want to try with your husband, I respect that. I don’t agree with it but I respect it. Just… please don’t disappear again.”

####################

You left Eddie that day with a mutual agreement of remaining friends. You even exchanged phone numbers with him and on days you were home alone you called him, telling him about your day and vice versa. 

One day you invited him to your school to have lunch with you. Eddie marveled at you from outside your classroom door. You looked so cute sitting on your desk swinging your legs as you talked to the glass. When you glanced towards the door and saw him, you eagerly waived him in. 

“Who’s that?” a girl near the front row giggled as he came in.

“Guys, this is my friend Eddie. Eddie, these are my pain in the butt freshman.” They laughed at you as he gave them a small wave. “Go ahead and sit down. The periods almost over.”, you whisper to him. 

You continue with your lesson on the book in your hand and after a few minutes a bell chimes. “Please, for the love of God, keep up with your reading. On Monday, we’re going to talk about your next project, okay?! Have a good weekend!”

You smile as they murmur goodbyes before speeding out of the room. 

“You good at this stuff.” Eddie grins as he grabs the book from your hands. You take the food out of the bag he brought, crossing your legs on your desk as you dig in. “The Great Gatsby. Did we have to read this in school?”

“Well, I’m not sure about Indiana but here it is part of their freshman curriculum. Have you read it?”, Eddie shakes his head as he places the book on the desk. “It’s about a man named Gatsby who loves a woman named Daisy. She’s married to this rich aristocrat guy so Gatsby spends his life trying to become rich enough for her. Her cousin moves in next door to him so he uses him to his advantage.”

“Oof. Sounds complicated as hell.” He laughs as he starts eating his own food. “Tell me more. I like hearing you talk about it.” You flash him a questioning look. “The way you talk about the material, you get more animated. If I was their age and you were my teacher, I may actually have read the book.” Eddie smiles as you laugh at him. “What happens in the end?”

“It doesn’t end happily. Long story short, Daisy stays with her husband and Gatsby dies.”

You both avoid eye contact as you pick at your plate. “So, um, how’s work been? Better?”

Eddie chuckles. “Mira didn’t fire me if that’s what you’re asking. Yeah, everything’s gone back to normal, I guess. What about your husband? Still being good?”

You scrunch your nose at his word choice. “Yeah. I mean, there have been a few nights he’s stayed late at work but it’s not as bad as before. He actually took me out to this really nice restaurant the other night.” You dare to sneak a peek at him as you talk. Eddie continues looking down at his food, nodding his head. 

Reaching towards him, you tenderly place your hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

He gently grazes your fingers with his own, almost as if he’s afraid to touch you too much. “Not a problem, Princess.”

#################

“Honey, you alright?” Your husband taps your arm. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I just zoned out for a bit.” You laugh at yourself as you shake your head. 

The phone on the wall rings and he leans back to answer it. His eyes flick towards you before he makes a small��mhmm noise and pulls the phone from his lips. “It’s my boss. I’m going to take it in the other room. Would you mind hanging this one up for me?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He doesn’t see your face cringe at the name as he kisses your forehead before jogging down the hallway. “Ok! I got it!”

“Ok!” You don’t know what possessed you in that moment but instead of hanging up the phone, you put it up to your ear covering the mouthpiece with your hand. 

“I can’t, baby. Not tonight. I already told you. I’m on thin ice with my wife.”

“Don’t you baby me. I thought you said you loved me!”

“I do, Sarah. I do but—”

“But you love her more!”

*sigh* “Look, don’t move, okay? I’ll be right there.”

You hang up the phone and thirty seconds later your husband rounds the corner. “Honey, I’m so sorry. They need me to come down for a few hours to work on this project. I shouldn’t be there to long.”

You stare at him with wide eyes as your brain runs a mile a minute. “You should go. Definitely don’t want to keep your boss waiting.”

##################

The moment Eddie opens his front door your lips are on his as you jump into his arms.

“Whoa! Sweetheart…hang on…a minute.” He barely gets the words out as you keep trying to keep his mouth on yours. “Please…Jesus H. Christ.” 

He somehow manages to tear you off him, placing your feet on the floor. Eddie’s long fingers brush your hair back and out of your eyes. They were extremely worn and heavy from crying. The whiskey on your breath hung around you like a storm cloud. “What happened, Princess?”

You reach towards him attempting to run your hands along his bare chest but he catches them in midair to hold them in his own. “Talk later. Fuck me now.”

“Okay, that would be the alcohol.” You swayed drunkenly in his grasp. Rolling your eyes, you pull away from him and throw yourself down on his bed. You reach for him with little grabby hands. “I’ll make you deal. You take a nap and then when you wake up, we’ll revisit this conversation, ok?

You giggle, nodding your head as your heavy eyelids start to droop. Eddie sits on the edge of his mattress beside you, delicately removing your shoes and socks. “I’m going to take off your pants to make you more comfortable, ok? This is not a sexy invitation.” He smiles and you nod again.

After he completes his task, he maneuvers your body so you’re under the covers. “Should I call your husband and let him know you’re here? I can say your friend is with you and I’m her boyfriend or something.”

With your eyes still closed, you scoff as you turn your head towards the sound of his voice. “Fuck him. He won’t even be home. He’s with Sarah.” You giggle but Eddie notices your bottom lip shake as your voice cracks. 

He blinks into the void as his mind pieces together the little information he has in front of him. “Oh Princess. I’m so sorry.”

You were silent so he assumed you had fallen asleep. He rose with the intention of sleeping on the couch when your hand flew out in his direction. “Eddie… please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll just be on the couch right over there.”

You shook your head, pulling at his arm. “Please. I’ll fucking break the glass if I have to.”

It took him a moment to understand what your drunk mind was trying to convey. “Y/N, there’s no glass here.” Eddie crawls into the bed beside you and you immediately press your small frame to his side as your head falls to his chest. He reaches for your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours. “No barrier. I’m right here, Sweetheart. I’ll be right next to you when you wake up.” ###################

@Munsonsuccubus @samunson83

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[theboywithburninghands]

Alright. Tentative Comm Info Under the Cut. I’m at work rn so it will be a while before I can talk in depth

18+ commissions only: I only take commissions from adults. No ifs ands or buts.

Will Do:

TADC Content: Yup. Might expand to other fandoms as time goes by.

NSFW: Also yup. This includes any ship and character x reader. Within reason. Do NOT make me have to report you for requesting something illegal.

Heavier Themes: A lot of my work deals with mental health, so I’m okay with writing about things like depression, anxiety, dark thoughts and the like. I also don’t mind discussing addiction, discrimination or certain kinds of trauma. Again though, within reason. See what I won’t do below.

Might Do:

AU’s: If I’m familiar with the AU or it’s one I’ve created, yes. If it’s one I’m unfamiliar with and would take a ton of extra work to get correct, no.

Won’t Do

Dead Dove: You know what I’m talking about. Extremely toxic relationships, graphic death or torture, noncon/SA of any kind. I do this stuff for fun, people, I’m not writing misery.

Kinks/Fetishes: Sorry, but I don’t want to become known as “the x guy” or “the y guy.” I’m sure there are other talented authors that could write you the perfect niche fic, but I am sadly not that author. I MIGHT make an exception for close friends, but those will be strictly private.

OC’s: Nnnope. I don’t really feel equipped to write anyone’s character unless I’m familiar with them. The last thing I want is to do a disservice to your intimately crafted character. That said, I will make an exception for close friends.

General Rules:

I work full time so please be patient.

Please don’t cancel at the last minute. I’ll make it clear when I’m working on the story and how progress is going, so please don’t ask for your money back when I’m almost finished. I’m more than happy to refund people, but if you try and pull this, you may not be refunded.

DBAA (Don’t Be An Asshole). If I say no to your request, the answer is no. Begging will get you blocked. Harassment will get you blocked and reported.

I don’t mind doing rewrites, but I will charge extra for excessive rewrites.

One-shots only atm, yeah? I’m not ready for another novel like Primum Peccatum…

I’ll only take your money when I’ve gotten started, and I will only get started when I receive your money. If you’re in line, I won’t take a dime from you until I actually begin writing.

Your commission can be public or private. I will never make anything you want not out in the open available to the public.

We can talk about your idea as much as you feel like we need to, but I might dip in and out of the conversation. Doesn’t mean I don’t like you, I either forgot to respond or I’m busy/tired/depressed.

Rates start at $30.

Two close friends already have slots secured already. I’ll keep another one open.

DM me if you’re interested, but remember, I only accept commissions from adults.

[nonexistent-introvert]

Hug Me (2)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reaader

Word count: 3.5k

Content: Joel making amends. Angst, hurt with comfort. Read Part 1 for context. not proofread

A/n: WOO I just realized i reached 400 followers thank you so much, guys!! I'm also very exhausted, this was kinda messy.

Part one

  The news of you returning to Jackson spread like wildfire throughout the small community. Especially when you brought back many supplies and resources. You weren’t planning on returning but when you stumbled upon the jackpot of resources, you figured that it was better off shared with the community. You would be a sitting duck if you ventured with that many supplies anyways, not to mention, it would be a waste if you only brought a fraction of the supplies with you. 

   Maria had kindly let you move back into your old accommodation. It made moving back easier, plus, you had grown attached to the tiny house you lived in. You fell back onto your bed, letting out a sigh of relief as you sunk into the comfortable mattress. The moonlight that shone into your room made your heart ache with a sense of familiarity. The times when you had been in the same position as now, your vision blurred with tears. The time when you would watch the moonlight slowly turn to sunlight. 

   You simply pursed your lips at the memory. It has become a distant memory now. You had reached a stage of acceptance when it comes to Joel. You figured it was what most people have said, it doesn’t always work out when it comes to relationships. Everyone tends to have their own heartbreak story, it was how people learn. You were thankful to Joel for the memories, the good ones and the bad ones even if it had destroyed you. Speaking of, you hadn’t seen Joel since you returned, it’s not like you have been actively searching for him. Spending your time keeping to yourself while you decorated your home that was too bare for your liking. 

   Did Joel move on? Maybe he found someone, a relationship that worked out. A woman who loved him and stood by his side. Honestly? You would be happy for him, but it would hurt ever so slightly. Just because there was a period of time where you would give anything to be that woman for him. 

   Joel was a figment of your past now. However, a small part of you will always care for him. After all, he will always occupy a place in your heart, because you had given him that place. There was no return or refund policy on that. 

====

   The mention of your name made his breath hitch. The news of your return had made it to him way faster than he expected. Ellie was the first to tell him, then he heard it from the town gossip and finally, Tommy had confirmed the news. His heart lifts at the fact that you were ok, that you didn't lose yourself out in the wild. However, he also felt torn down at the mention of you. Knowing that you probably still hated him. That he will never see that adoring look on your face again when you see him. Your tear-stricken face, your trembling hands, and the desperation in your voice while you tried to fight for the both of you. It still haunted Joel whenever he closes his eyes.  

   “This is your second chance, Joel! You can finally fix things up.” Ellie encouraged. Joel grunted, strumming on his guitar while on his porch. “There’s nothin’ to fix. We drifted. That what times does to ya.” This was the story Joel told anyone who bothered to ask. He didn’t want people poking their noses into the matter, also because he knew how much of an asshole he was to you. Ellie rolled her eyes at Joel, “You can fool everyone else but not me Joel. We both know that you fucked up and pushed her away.” Joel remained silent, plucking on the strings harder. “Instead of playing your guitar here every night and talking to the moon, how about you actually get your ass up and do something?” Ellie scolded, getting frustrated at Joel. Joel took a calming breath, “It's complicated.” 

“It is not. You fucked up, she got hurt and left you. You’re a wreck because of your mistake. Now, she’s standing right in front of you again but you’re still too busy throwing a pity party for yourself.” Ellie snapped. Joel felt his patience thinning but deep down, he knew Ellie was right. 

   “What do you reckon I do huh? If I was her I will hate myself. So what am I supposed to do now?” The anger in Joel’s voice was evident but he had stuck to playing his guitar loudly and angrily to vent out his emotions. “Get her to forgive you then. Even if she no longer wants a relationship you still have the responsibility to make things right. Even if you have to get on your knees and leave yourself completely vulnerable. She’s the most fantastic woman I know Joel, she deserves at least that.” Ellie scolded, it was foolish and ironic to her, how she needed to teach Joel such a simple lesson. When you mess up, you ask for forgiveness and solve things. Isn’t that practically common sense? 

   Joel continued strumming to the late hours of the night. Having long lost himself to his own thoughts. Ellie is right, she always is. He had to do something. Your return was a second chance and he would not let himself make the same mistake of losing you again. 

=====

   Seeing Joel Miller at your door at 9.30am in the morning was not something you expected. Your eyes were bleary from having woken up just a few minutes ago. Your hand came up to shield your eyes from the sunlight that was forcing its way into your retina. 

  “Come in.” You beckoned, sleep still embedded in your voice while you stifled a yawn. Joel was a nervous mess however, he was always a morning person. Joel had woken up at 7am and had spent his whole morning planning how he was going to fix things with you. Eventually, bouncing around in anxiety in his own home was too much to bear which was the reason why he sat on your couch at 9.35am In the morning. 

  “You’re still a creature of habit right?” You handed him a cup of coffee which he happily drank. A grin forming on his lips, the coffee that you made was always perfect for him. The thought that you still remembered his preferences in coffee was enough to lift his spirits. “Heard you’re back,”Joel muttered while taking another sip from the cup. “I’m sitting next to you aren’t I.” You pointed out. He chuckled lightly. There was no evident tension between the both of you. Joel was tempted to just enjoy his time with you, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere by bringing up the sensitive topic. However, he knew that it was better to rip the bandaid off and get straight to the treatment instead of letting it have the chance to rot and get infected. He owed it to you to at least make things right instead of leaving it to be unresolved. 

   “I won’t beat around the bush.” Joel started, staring at you. “I want to resolve things between us, even if I took longer than I should have.” You sighed, “I figured.” You placed your mug onto the coffee table, stretching your limbs. “You couldn’t pick a better time? Maybe in the afternoon?.” You joked lightly, wiping the sleep from your eyes. He shook his head in amusement, “I’m sorry, I had to do it soon before I chicken out.” 

   “Joel Miller, chickening out! Who would have thought?” You teased, a smile on your face. Joel grimaced, “I have always been a coward, but you already knew that didn’t you?” He admitted. You frowned at Joel. “I don’t think you’re a coward.” You assured him. Joel simply shook his head, wiping his face with the palm of his hand. “I get scared easily. I’m terrified of losing people and forming attachments. That was why I pushed you away, and said some of the worse things I wished I could take back. I’m sorry.” Joel apologised once again. You took another sip of your coffee. “I- there’s no bad blood between us Joel. Honestly. You don’t have to do this.” You told him.

  “But you deserve it.” Joel replied without missing a single beat. Your eyes widened at Joel’s words, you averted your gaze away. “I still don’t think you’re a coward.” You simply told him. Joel gave you a questioning glance. “First of all, a coward wouldn’t be here apologising.” You started, staring at the additional wrinkles that has appeared on his face in the time you were away. “After leaving Jackson, I got a lot of time to reflect on what had happened. Honestly? I get it. I mean we never established what we were so you had every right for acting like that I guess. I just fell for you too hard and too fast and that overwhelmed both of us.” Joel wanted to laugh, you fell for him. He never thought you would ever fall for him, maybe that was why he pushed you away so cruelly, because he never had the time to entertain the possibility of you reciprocating his feelings. “It wasn’t your fault, you tried to fight for us but I walked away from that possibility.” Joel insisted, your heart clenched. The phrase ‘us’ being uttered from him brought back memories. He once told you there was no such ‘us’ but now he’s using it to refer to the both of you. His eyes bore into yours, Joel wants you to listen to him. “So-um.” He fidgeted, wiping his palms against his thighs. “Give me another chance. Give ‘us’ another chance.” Joel asked. 

   The urge to tell him what he told you that day was unbearable. To show him how deep those words could cut. You inhaled a shaky breath. 

   “I can’t” 

   Joel's eyes flashed with disappointment as he looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I-I get it,” He told you, forcing out a smile. “I’m not willing to take the risk again Joel. It was hell the last time.” You admitted softly to him, folding your arms over your chest. “I hurt you really bad huh.” Joel sighed, leaning back on your couch. You smiled, looking at the man who had broke your heart. “Yeah, you did. If it didn’t hurt it probably meant I didn’t love you that much.” 

  That statement haunted Joel in his sleep. He tossed and turned on his bed. Sorting things out with you was supposed to make him sleep better, and provide an ending to the chapter that has gone on for too long. He was missing something. His body was on full alert, prompting him to do something. 

  Joel sighed, listening to the stairs creak under his weight. He poured himself a cup of water. “Why are you up?” Ellie’s voice made Joel flinch slightly. Ellie smirked, she would not let Joel live this down. “I should be asking you the same question.” Joel snarked. Ellie chuckled lightly, “So- you got her?” Joel shook his head, “I made a grave mistake, it was a miracle she even forgived me.” 

   “You didn’t try?” Ellie questioned, disbelief in her voice. “I got rejected.” He replied, not wanting to have this talk with her. “Then try again.”she replied like it was the most obvious in the world 

   “That’s not how it works Ellie.”

   “I wouldn’t be encouraging you if it wouldn’t work.” Ellie said. “How did she reject you? Her reaction matters.” She continued. Joel pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Is he really obliged to tell her how he got rejected? He was pushing 50 years old for gods sake. Ellie continued whining and he let out a defeated sign before repeating the exact words you said to him. Ellie’s eyes lit up, “Joel! You’re an idiot!” Joel almost snapped at her, he didnt need to add salt to the wound. “She isn’t willing to take the risk. That’s the only thing holding her back Joel. You just need to prove to her that she can trust you again.” Joel shook his head, “Stop giving me hope Ellie.” There was frustration in his voice. Ellie merely continued, Joel no longer scared her. “It’s true! The underlying meaning is that she is not denying that she still has feelings for you but she’s too afraid to let herself fall again.” Ellie adviced. 

   Ellie’s words was enough motivation to give Joel an epiphany. He had already made the mistake of letting you go once. Now, he will fight for you and prove to you that he will not make the same mistake twice. 

======

    A smile formed on Joel’s lips when he caught a glimpse of your figure. He was so excited that he fumbled a few notes on his guitar. Joel took a breath to calm himself down, glancing down at the fretboard to better position his fingers, hoping you would stop and talk to him about the music like in the past. 

    His chest tightened when you walked past his porch with a dazed look on your face. His music no longer brought you to him anymore. There were earphones in your ears, perhaps it was a sign that you really moved on, that he shouldn’t bother you anymore.   “Hey.” Joel couldn’t help himself from calling out to you. The smile that appeared on your face was one out of politeness instead of the grin you used to give him. Joel’s mind went blank when you did stop in your tracks to take out your earphones, wondering the purpose of him calling to you. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and cleared his throat. “I was just wondering if you wanted to join me. ” Joel felt himself turning red, why was he so awkward? You shifted your weight from one foot to another. What could go wrong right? You nodded before settling on the chair beside him. The chair that Joel had started leaving out for you.

   You were startled when Joel handed you the guitar in his hands. “Hold on, I have something for ya.” He reassured you upon seeing the panicked look on your face. You relaxed a little as you watched him return to his own home, trying your best to not ponder too much on what Joel had for you. Your fingers absentmindedly strummed the guitar you were holding. 

   You immediately halted your movements when Joel returned, feeling embarrassed for your lack of skill compared to him. Joel didn’t seemed to mind, his eyes shining with childlike excitement. He sat down, unzipping the guitar case that was once over his shoulder. 

  “For you.” Joel carefully held out a guitar for you. Your eyes widened, “What? Why?” Joel shrugged, “I said I’ll teach you guitar. You need one to learn.” You swallowed, not expecting Joel to remember that promise from years ago. You took the guitar from his hands, a grin forming at the sight of the guitar. You always wanted to learn the guitar. ��Did you make this?” You asked, strumming the new guitar after giving his back. He nodded, “Just finished it yesterday” he announced proudly. “Shit, how can I repay you?” ‘Give me another chance’ was what Joel wanted to say but he figured that was too straightforward. Seeing the happiness on your face was payment enough for him. “You don’t need to. It was just some spart parts I had lying around.” It was a lie, Joel took weeks before he managed to scavenge the materials needed. You let out a squeal as you admired the guitar in your hands. “Thanks man. I fucking love you for this.” You blurted out in excitement. Not knowing the effects that it had on Joel’s heart. 

   “So, I guess I’ll be seeing you more often? For the lessons of course.” He clarified. “Anytime Joel, I’ll surpass you in no time.” You told him confidently. He chuckled at that. “I bet darling.” He drawled. 

   This was the first step to Joel righting his wrongs.

=====

   “So,” Tommy started from beside you during patrol. “You and my brother?” He let out a teasing whistle after that. You simply hummed, “Friends.” Tommy let out an exaggerated groan. “We have eyes. Everyone knows.” You trudged along the path. “Know what?” “That you’re probably more than just friends.”

   “We are friends.” You stated. Tommy side eyed you. “Yeah right, I bet Joel thinks that too.” He replied sarcastically. You nudged Tommy in the side. “He does.” His eyes furrowed at your response, he let out a laugh. “Are you playing dumb? Or do you really think that he treats you as just a friend?” Tommy asked. “We are friends.” You repeated again. Tommy scoffed at your response. “You’re blind.” He shook his head in disbelief. “He's trying to get you back. He wants to be more than friends.” Tommy stated plainly. You opened your mouth to argue but it was like deep down, you knew he was doing just that. You just preferred to be dense than misunderstand his intentions. You cursed lightly, your heart clenching at the thought of him. It wasn’t going to work out, you weren’t going to put yourself in that vulnerable position again. 

====

   “Joel!” You knocked against the wooden door. Your heart pacing against your chest. The door swung open, revealing a surprised Joel. “We need to talk.” Joel stiffened visibly, his mind running with all the possibilities. He moved to a side, inviting you into his home. “Would you like a drink?” Joel asked. You shook your head, trying to gather the words in your head. Joel rubbed the back of his neck, anxiety creeping up onto him. 

   “Everything you did for me, was it all just for another chance?” 

   Joel’s eyes widened at your words, his mouth opening before closing. His reaction was all you needed to know. All this time, you thought he was someone who could put the past behind him. Why can’t he understand how much he had hurt you? “Joel…” The disappointment in your voice made Joel’s heart shatter. He swallowed the lump in his throat. The next emotion was almost unrecognisable to him, it was pure fear. The fear of losing you again. “I can’t give you what you want.” You told him coldly. He closed his eyes, looking away from you. “Why?” He gritted out. “Do you really hate me that much? Why can’t you just give me another chance to prove myself?” He continued desperation in his voice. The desperation that mirrored yours almost a year ago. You clenched your jaw, trying to numb the pain in your heart. “It was not worth it for the heartbreak.” You spat heartlessly. Joel stumbled back at your words. “After everything. The past few months, hell even the years we spent together before that fight. I guess it meant nothing.” Joel muttered. You stepped closer to him, jabbing your finger into his chest. “You’re the one who said there was no ‘us’ and there never will be. Don’t pin this on me, Miller.” Joel grabbed your hand, “I thought you were more mature than this. I know my apologies don’t mean shit but I would like to think that for the past few months, I have shown you that I want there to be an ‘us’” You took a few shaky breaths, you won’t allow yourself to cry in front of him again. “It’s too late Joel.” You replied, your voice breaking. You stared at Joel’s eyes, regret and longing swirled in his eyes. Joel took a breath before lowering himself onto his knees. “Must I beg for a chance?” Your jaw dropped, Joel Miller was on his knees in front of you. 

   “What is this supposed to mean?” you cried out in exasperation. Joel placed his hands on his knees, staring up at you. “We were happy together are we not? All I’m asking is for that chance to make you happy and not break your heart again.” The only sound was the heartbeats of yours pounding against your eardrums. “Fuck.” You cursed out. “Please, give me something to work with,” Joel begged. 

   The memories you have with him surfaced, as though your brain was trying on Joel’s side. The lingering touches, his laugh, the way he stares at you adoringly. The way he will listen to you ramble about anything for the entire day and how he is willing to drop anything for you. Everything made sense now, it always have, you just decided to turn a blind eye to it. 

  “Joel, I can’t take another heartbreak.” Joel shook his head, “Never again. I’ll protect you with my life if I must.” With the determined look in his eyes, you knew he would never live it down if you went through any kind of pain, both emotional and physical. The eyes were the window to his soul and your biggest weakness. You always were a victim to those eyes of his. You gently placed your hand on his cheek, “Get up Joel.” Joel’s eyes lit up, “So you’re willing to try?” 

   You nodded. Joel let out a delighted laugh. He took your hand in his and gently pressed a kiss to each knuckle. When he stood up to his full height again, he pulled you to him and embraced you. 

   “I love you. I’m sorry for everything.”     “I’m glad to have you back Joel.” 

[teawitch]

For the ask game:

6. What do you think of Aleister Crowley?

31. What post have you seen recently that makes you wanna scream?

6 - for better or worse, I don't think the witchcraft and neo-pagan movement would be where it is today without Crowley. Not necessarily because he was a brilliant occultist but more because he was the exact type of asshole to fascinate the repressed Victorian press, which increased the interest in the occult.

Or as a wise witch once told me - a lot of the people we hear and read about when study the craft seem to be egocentric assholes because the quieter, more thoughtful minds weren't out there publishing books, doing interviews and showing off on tv.

So Crowley was the witchtok of his day. As was Gardner.

31 - more shriek with laughter than scream but I recently saw an intro post where someone gave their age based on their past lives, putting them at over a thousand years old.

Which is relatively young for tumblr, a site populated by people who are stilled owed refunds from Ea-nasir for his terrible copper.

[delicatefury]

I’m pissed. I am so pissed right now. (Super long, very personal rant below)

I’m an attorney. A lawyer. My job is to advise my clients to the best of my ability of what legal options they have and which acts may be in their best interest. That’s why one of the other names for my job is counselor.

It is not to get more clients. It is not to file more bankruptcies. My job, my ethical obligation, is to provide my professional expertise to clients in relation to pursuing a bankruptcy.

Which means sometimes my ethical duty is to advise clients that filing a bankruptcy is the worse option for their situation and other steps would serve them better to reach their goals.

So when a client who makes less than the median income (which is fairly low, especially with inflation) comes in owning their house in full (meaning lots of value in the house to pay off debts), it is my job, my ethical obligation, to warn her that filing bankruptcy will mean she has to pay every single cent of her debts back. That she will be handing over almost half of her pay every month to the bankruptcy court to pay back her creditors. Or else the bankruptcy trustee has the right to sell her house.

And after discussing her situation with the senior attorney, turns out that it’s actually a better option for her to take out a small home equity loan and negotiate for lower debt payoffs for her credit cards and personal loans. It’s a lower interest rate, she gets a lot more leeway before her house is at risk, it’s quicker, and it will preserve her credit score. In every conceivable way it’s a better option for her.

So I call her to discuss that there are other options for her before I sink hours into preparing her case.

This woman freaks the fuck out. She’s convinced the loan will lead to her losing her house. She demands to know why I would even suggest it. She implies I have no clue what I’m doing and am just trying to take advantage (which is… no? I’m telling you that you’d be better off not using our services). I try to calm her down and ask for a few days to put together the numbers to show her what her options will look like. She agrees to a phone call in two days.

Two days later, she sends me a basic email saying she no longer wants to go forward with the bankruptcy. Silly me thinks that means she’s given thought and realized that a 3.5-5% small loan and negotiating payoffs is better than 5 years at 8-18% interest plus attorney fees.

Wrong! She also emails one of the partners and writes a nasty message about me and how “incompetent” I am! Because I suggested a home equity loan! Because I did my ethical duty! And I found this out because I went to add a note to her file about giving her a refund and found a note from the partner about her complaints about me.

And I do not trust the partners to take my side. I did the right thing. I took the right actions. I know I did. And the Senior attorney will back me up! We literally just had a discussion that legal ethics requires that at times we have to advise clients not to file bankruptcy, even if that means we lose their business.

But I cannot believe that the partners will stand behind my actions. I can’t. Not after the last year. Too many times have they assured me that they have my back only to throw me under the bus the moment they actually have to prove it.

A client is rude and combative to me and my paralegal? Makes me deeply uncomfortable and keeps on insisting on coming into the office so he can attempt to railroad me by physical intimidation into doing what he wants instead of the actual correct legal actions? Partners says he understands and that he’s okay if we turn this client away. Then he calls the client, tells them I’m also on the line, and immediately rolls over because the asshole isn’t rude to him. And I have another month of near constant harassment and arguments and passive aggressive insults.

A client gives off creepy vibes? Again insists on coming into the office for every little thing? Has a criminal record for domestic issues and an active criminal case open against him for pedophilia? Oh well. He paid a lot up front so guess I have no choice but to keep representing him. For the next 5 years.

Client starts being threatening and aggressive to our paralegal before we even meet with him? Demands to be seen and threatens to come into our office even though we are booked all afternoon? Gives the former criminal prosecutor senior attorney bad vibes before she’s even seen him? Meet with him anyway! Oh he just lost his job because he threatened his HR? Has been arrested for domestic violence? Just attempted to physically intimidate his now former boss and had the cops called him? That’s fine! We have security concerns? Oh well, they’ll think about it during the partners meeting next month.

I’d like to take the time to learn how to do post filing work or how to file bankruptcies in the neighboring district that I actually live in? Tough. More front end work for a court that’s literally on the other side of the state! And if that doesn’t keep me occupied, they’ll send me front end stuff from the other side of the country!

So I really don’t trust that when I tell them I was doing my ethical obligation and making my client aware that there are better options that they will take my word over hers. I can’t. They’ve shown me that’s not how they think. It’s being a business first, with being a law practice a distant second, and mentoring new attorneys a far away third. Caring for our staff is barely a blip on the horizon for them.

But I know I did the right thing. And if that client wants to go to another firm and pay most of her paycheck to the trustee every month, fine by me. And if they try to lecture me about how I “handled it poorly” and should have just filed it without saying anything, I can’t guarantee I won’t just walk out.

I’ve got contract work. I’ve been approached by headhunters. One literally emailed me this morning. I like this work, but for once I’m not scared to walk away.

[cordria]

Need some help

I've found myself in a little pickle, and I need some thoughts from people who are not involved. If you'd like to read and answer the ending poll, please read more. Poll at the end.

Necessary backstory part 1: When I first met my brother in law (BIL), my husband referred to him as an 'asshole'. BIL was raised in a family with very 1950's thoughts of how women are supposed to be, drank all that kool-aide, and got a huge dose of 'I get everything I ask for' on top of it.

In the years I've known BIL, I've found my husband's initial description to be apt. Always needs the best stuff, saves no money at all, bounces between jobs, gets everything he wants but never seems to be happy. Took up drinking about ten years ago and never looked back. Haven't had a sober interaction with him in years.

Necessary backstory part 2: Every year, my in-laws do a big family reunion at the end of December. Plan it a year in advance. Put down a deposit on a large party room. This year, in early-ish December, BIL texts and says he got the greatest tickets ever to go to Mexico - super cheap flight and resort stay. Only the plane leaves the day before the big family get-together... so can we move it?? Everyone reorganize their schedules instead of him just not come?

And... yes. Apparently my mother in law bent over backwards to move this family reunion for him. Everybody lost our non-refundable deposits. Had to do the reunion at my mother in law's tiny little house. Had to listen to my husband complain for a week about the whole thing.

Necessary backstory part 3: BIL was married and had two kids (currently 18 and 21), then divorced and found this new girlfriend and had two more kids (4 and 6) with her. When he got these tickets, he had framed it as a 'family vacation' and said 'the kids were going to have a blast'. Apparently when he said 'family' he meant him, his girlfriend, and his two newer kids. Not his older kids, who had thought they'd be invited as well, only to find out they don't apparently count as family anymore.

So we're walking into this reunion with feels, right? And lots of people are walking into this reunion with FEELS. Tense would be a good word for it. Ready to punch BIL into oblivion if he says the wrong thing would be another way to describe it.

SO. Story time.

Holiday gifts are being exchanged. We get BIL and family a gift card for a dinner out, and get nothing in return (as usual). Towards the end, BIL pulls out his wallet and grabs a bunch of money. Calls his two older kids over and hands them each a hundred dollars. That's it. That's their entire holiday present. Then he calls over (most) of the rest of his nieces and nephews and hands them each fifty dollars. My son gets skipped.

Normally, I'd call him out on it, because he's drunk and probably forgot my son (who was quietly playing with his new Lego set in the corner) even existed. But the atmosphere was tense and I was definitely on the side of just let it go. It'd take more than $50 to stick my hand in that hornet's nest.

Nobody really noticed. My daughter did, even offered to split hers with him, but I shook that idea off and just gave her a hug for being awesome. Repeat the phrase I've said plenty: gifts are given, not demanded to be received. BIL is under no obligation to give everyone a gift - even if he's an asshole for skipping just one kid, it's his choice.

Party goes without too much of a hitch, but everyone is definitely happier when BIL leaves early to go to a different party. (although the amount of bitching about how we had to move the whole thing and he left early?? was just insane to listen to)

Afterward the party is over and we head home, daughter goes shopping with part of her money (donated some to the food shelf near our house, saved the rest) and gets some doll thing she's been wanting. Son picks out a dinosaur that roars when you squeeze it. (They ended up with a significant sum of money from several relatives.)

We go home, write thank you cards. (yes, I'm old fashioned. If you get money or a gift in the mail, you send a thank you card.) Daughter writes out her cards (she had five to send), son does his four (same four, then not one to BIL). Thank you cards are getting too expensive to send for not getting a gift. Mail them off, think nothing of it, move on.

About a week later, I get a text from mother in law asking when my son's thank you card to BIL would arrive. I reply back that he's not getting one. If one does not give a gift, one does not get a thank-you card.

CUE DRAMA. OMG levels of drama. BIL was too drunk to remember what happened, and thinks he gave my son some money, and refuses to be talked out of it. Thinks that if he really missed someone, he would've been told at the time. He's dug himself a deeeeeep hole and nobody's going to be able to get him out of it.

Current situation, which is now almost six weeks of this insanity: My daughter's birthday is coming up, and BIL is threatening not to come and bring a gift if we don't send him a thank you card from my son. My instinct was to respond 'you were not invited; I don't want your drunk ass in my house ever again', but thought better of that before I clicked 'send'.

MIL is on BIL's side, thinks I should just send the thank you card and keep the peace, that it's just a silly little card and it doesn't mean anything. Husband is on my side, thinking BIL is throwing a man-child sized fit my three-year-old is old enough to know not to do.

Nobody's arguing that I'm in the wrong here, btw (other than BIL). I'm not the asshole in this situation. Nobody thinks I am.

HOWEVER. Sometimes you can stand on the moral high-ground of one battlefield and watch the war fall apart around you. Makes you wonder what's the bigger goal? I'm not 'fixing' my BIL with this. I'm not making a dent in the toxic hell-hole of a FOX-riddled black hole he calls a brain.

So now I have to make a choice - a bigger choice than just the stupid $2 thank you card. And here's where I need your thoughts.

Option 1: send the stupid thank you card. I'll likely hear about this later when he tries to lord his 'win' over me, but it'll stop the family rift. My children will not have to be in the middle of an almost-50-year-old throwing a tantrum any two-year-old would watch in amazement. Even though I and my husband would be willing (and happy) to never see BIL again, it's harder to unilaterally cut that tie from my children's lives. They deserve to get to know their family, and understand their family - the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Option 2: send an essentially blank thank you card. He'll get his card, but I am not sinking down to actually thanking him for anything. 50/50 on whether this would solve anything or make it worse, though. Would simply depend on his mental state when he gets it.

Option 3: hold onto my moral high ground, disinvite him from a party he wasn't invited to anyways, and wait for the chaos or for BIL to forget about it. This could possibly be the stake that drives BIL away (not sad at that thought). My worry is that where BIL goes, my children's nana will go as well. And the ultimate worry would be that we (me, my husband, and our kids) stop getting invited to family functions, since MIL coordinates most of them and she has zero backbone when it comes to BIL. It's a not-unreal possibility that this could cut a good portion of my husband's family out of my children's lives for some time (and most of the rest are wonderful people). And even if the worst was not to happen, this'll be a constant source of stress and strain on everyone.

So I'm... not sure really what to do. My family thinks I should hold my ground because morals are more important than having a relationship with a drunk asshole - and that there are more relatives to fill the hole. (all true) My in laws think I should just send the card because I'm not 'winning' anything here and I should look at the bigger picture. (also true) One even offered to purchase, fill out, and mail the damned thing for me.

I just... I dunno. This is just stupid. So, so, very, very stupid. Stupid enough it makes me want to cut BIL out of my life just because I don't want the anxiety surrounding this any more.

I'm trapped in a stupid, bizarre situation and I'm to the point where the thoughts of random internet people I do not know apparently mean something to me.

tl/dr: My asshole of a brother in law forgot to give one of my kids a gift, and is now causing major family drama by demanding a thank you card.

[tarynisbunhead]

So, Adobe decided to be absolute scum. I hate when these shit for brains corporations are like "Well, we have this idea and our customers will just have to go with it." Let's look at how many brands have tanked or lost billions as a result of that - yeah the list is huge. I also hate that ever since that dumbass Ubisoft CEO said "Gamers should just be comfortable with not owning their games" other companies have decided that's a great idea - Ubisoft is bankrupt now. Now Adobe has decided to be a shady asshole.

Okay think of how many jobs and businesses need Photoshop. There are writers who design their own book covers, every business creates their own logo or ad, photographers, the list goes on. Naturally, you buy the program but what if Adobe decides to shut down the server that caters to those older serial numbers? Reason being Adobe now has a subscription set-up in which you re-buy the product and it shows up in your account. Yeah, it all boils down to making more money. When my copy stopped working after 13 years I started reading forums and EVERYWHERE people said the same thing - the subscription side is a total scam, you pay for the programs and sometimes they disappear but when you ask for a refund Adobe gives you the runaround. That's illegal because it is theft. Ubisoft was pulling the same crap, people would pay for games only to have them disappear from the account and now Ubisoft is dead.

Also, fuck every person who goes around being a massive dick rider for these shady companies. Get bent. How much are you getting paid to try and defend illegal actions? Some lameass actually said "Well, it's true we don't really own anything." Okay Genius let me explain it and I'll use small words - I buy Prince of Persia over on Steam, then Steam places the game in my account. If the game leaves my account with no reason as to why and I'm not refunded that is theft. Are you really saying to my face that a Lego set I bought in 1987, the Lego company still has control over? They don't make pirate and castle sets anymore, not like that.

It's this King of the Mountain complex, these companies truly believe they can say and do whatever they want and customers will go along with it. Look at Etsy, refusing to pay merchants and when I left that site was trying to take control of my bank account with a company that was in court for identity theft! Adobe isn't special, it's annoying that myself and others who bought the program can't use it anymore because a dumbass CEO has a stick up his ass but there are alternatives. That's the worst part, I'm backed up because my computer died, I had to buy a new one and when I thought I'd finally get back into working on patters and restoring photos - can't because Adobe is shady as hell. I read other accounts of people almost getting fired simply because they were trying to set up an Adobe subscription and missed deadlines. Don't defend this shit.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am i the asshole for not inviting a friend to my birthday event?

For context, my birthday is in the week between Christmas and NYE so as a kid, I always had to celebrate with my friends either before the holidays or after because everyone (including me) would be travelling to see family at Christmas.

Since my late teens, the only thing I've done for my birthday is have lunch with my family and then dinner with my best friend. (Not the friend this story is about.)

In the past year, I've made four new friends: A, B, C, and D. In 2023, they all invited me to their birthday events (all in August) and I went.

In September, I asked all four of them if they wanted to do an escape room. (Not for my birthday, but just for like something to do on a Saturday.) A and B declined because they didn't like the idea (fair enough) so I went with C and D.

All three of us had agreed to do it again and I'd mentioned it to another friend, who also wanted to go. So I thought we could go for my birthday.

I didn't invite A and B because they said they didn't want to go to an escape room in September and I couldn't imagine that their feelings had changed in three months. Plus, you can only have a max of four people for the room that I wanted to do.

Now, I did try to plan a meal with A, B, C, and D but when I asked in early December, none of them were really sure when they could make it because they didn't know when they were working that week or when they were seeing family and I asked for them to let me know.

However, but the time everyone could let me know when they were free, I had injured my my arm and was on a lot on painkillers. It was a pretty scary time but I didn't want to worry anyone going into Christmas, so I just said it was too complicated to arrange stuff that week and we could sort it in January.

After Christmas, A suggested a date for my birthday meet up in December. It was a date that B couldn't do anyway, so I told the group chat about the injury and that I wouldn't be up for meeting up until I was better.

I also messaged C, D, and my other friend to tell them that I would have to let them know on the day if I could make it because of my injury. Because the deposit for the escape room was non-refundable and I could manage to get about, I decided to go. Although, it would have been more fun if I hadn't been hurting.

Then, I stopped taking the stronger tablets because you're only allowed to take them for so long. And I spent the rest of the week and the first week of Jan in the house resting as much as possible. I even felt confident enough to make birthday plans for mid-January.

However, I never told A and B that I did go out for my birthday with C and D. I never actually told them that I had these plans because I didn't want them to think that we were making plans and not including them. (for context, I've definitely previously made non-birthday plans with both A and B without including the others.)

A was feeling bad for me about me not celebrating my birthday. (I didn’t tell her that I hadn't done anything but it's a reasonable assumption.) She didn't say this to me though. She said it to C, who reassured her that I'd enjoyed my birthday at the escape room.

Now, C did tell A that the reason I hadn't said anything about it is because I knew A and B didn't like escape rooms and C thinks that A understood.

But A isn't responding to my texts now and I'm guessing it's because they think I was excluding them from my birthday event for no reason, like I didn't want to have them at my birthday.

What are these acronyms?