#on a walk and that i was working on my dissertation and had gotten in the zone

[fingertipsmp3]

That last post just reminded me of something honestly mind-boggling that that friend did

[girderednerve]

i am now about three-quarters of the way through my book about credit cards (plastic capitalism by sean h. vanatta), which means i have gotten through a good part of the early credit card fraud stuff, and i have two main thoughts about it, which are: a) this shit is completely fucking bananas and b) the supernatural guys making their living by credit card fraud is much funnier than i realized

the reason it's very funny to me is that credit card fraud started out being sort of not technically illegal, because credit cards were novel technology & weren't immediately directly covered by the law. banks that issued credit cards were committed to unsolicited mailing as an advertising strategy, beginning with the bankamericard launch in 1958. i knew that credit card junk mail is a big old thing but i didn't realize that they just mailed out ACTIVATED CARDS???? like tens of millions of them over fifteen years???? so people, obviously, stole them out of other people's mailboxes, because the intended recipient didn't know it was there to contact the bank and cancel the card, and it was more or less a free money card. banks for some reason did not foresee this problem, and struggled with combating it: in rabidly pursuing market share, they neglected to ensure that they had adequate infrastructure to respond promptly to fraud, which was technologically difficult anyway because credit card processing went through the mail. law nerds will at this point go, "oh? it went through the mail? well it sounds like credit card fraud was, if nothing else, perhaps covered by the notoriously broad mail fraud statute," which credit card companies did successfully convince a few federal prosecutors & judges to pursue. [FUNNY TO ME because by the time that supernatural decided to bring up how dean's revenue streams are basically all illegal, i.e. season three, which aired in 2008, it was transparently illegal to steal someone's credit card and unsolicited mailing of activated cards was banned, but banks still mailed preapproved credit card applications, which dean would steal and fraudulently fill in, so. you know. mail fraud!]

actually for a while one of the circuits decided that credit card fraud necessarily used the mail, so anyone with a fraudulent credit card could be found guilty of mail fraud out of hand. some hardworking defense lawyers elsewhere managed to argue successfully that their clients were, in effect, too incompetent and careless to have ever considered how credit cards worked, and thus had no criminal intent with regards to the mail. some people walked away from thousands of dollars of fraudulent charges on the defense that they were clueless. beautiful. (sidebar, the book spends in my opinion objectively too much time on case law, probably as a symptom of having begun life as a dissertation, but it's also pretty funny, so i get it.)

because credit cards were processed through the mail, all of the advice for criminally using credit cards was like, 'don't spend more than a thousand dollars in one place, and use out-of-state cards, because those banks will be slower to realize what's happened.' really funny shit, honestly. because the whole enforcement system was, extremely on purpose, deeply regional! usury laws were set at the state level; fraud laws varied by state; federal courts mostly didn't think it was their problem, unless prosecutors thought credit card fraud was being used to fund organized crime, which it sometimes was; individual credit card companies made different investments in internal fraud prevention (american express went long on this, apparently). the whole system of interchange between banks was super slow & pretty goofy, because the system for interstate credit cards required an issuing bank to work with a local agent bank through a whole wacky series of relationships. for example, a bank americard might be issued by an omaha bank, and mailed to a consumer in minnesota (as occurred in the landmark marquette case!); the consumer would take their bankamericard to local merchants, who accepted the card at point of sale, then sent an invoice to the omaha bank through the mail. the omaha bank would pay the merchant, minus a service fee, charge bank of america's account through the fed's system, and then veeeery slowly bother to process and mail the transaction slip so bank of america could charge them. the unprocessed transaction slips, which at one point accounted for millions of dollars in 1969 money, was called "float." this shit is so stupid. i can't believe they did that. they did change it up in the early '70s, by restructuring how the interchange system worked. but it still ran through the MAIL. you can see why those guys were all hyped up on the idea of mainframes, not just to cut labor costs (it was also to cut labor costs: margins on early credit card programs were very low or often negative because the processing labor was so high).

there was a huge regulatory fight where credit card companies wanted to keep doing stupid shit and make the government responsible for enforcement, and the government wanted to apply consumer protections and not shoulder the expensive project of fraud enforcement. the post office must've hated those guys, they caused so many problems & kept acting like it was USPS's fault that the credit card fraud was happening. the reason i bring this trend up is that that's the story of financial regulation in the united states: private actors want the right to innovate around the rules, and then hand over the responsibility for the risk generated to the state, which is to say to taxpayers. i was, nonsensically, astonished by how set the playbook is. it's easier to see why the crypto guys keep acting like this is going to work out when you know how much shit finance guys have historically gotten away with.

there was a lot of back-and-forth about interest caps, too. consumer groups wanted cheaper credit; some people pointed out that cheaper credit required lenders to only service less-risky borrowers, which meant that credit availability for lower-income borrowers would dry up. the obvious solution, i.e. just providing social goods to lower-income borrowers, was off the table because we had to be Tough on Communism. labor unions were really into consumer protection, because they understood the availability of cheap consumer credit as clear to driving the demand that sustained union jobs. really american perspective! the american economy was more or less uniquely reliant on private credit to effect social policy.

anyway it's very appropriate stupid crime for the winchesters to do, because it points to the fragmented regulatory environment in the united states! which maps neatly onto their whole rugged individualism thing! and it's also coded as clever in a lazy, petty-crook way, which works really well for their whole deal. did this sidebar need to be there? yes & i make no apologies. well. very little apology.

if you have read something fun about financial history please feel personally invited to tell me about it!!!

[skyjasper]

Don't call me crazy

Professor!Az X Student!Reader Modern AU

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N has been lusting after her new British professor since the first day of class, what a perfect coincidence he also becomes her private teacher in all things war and torture.

Warnings: vulgar content, smut, 18+, age gap romance, oral (Fem and Male receiving), choking, praise, dom!az.

Word count: 4207

The first time I stepped into Mr. Singers' classroom I was expecting an old white man who thought he was funny.

What I wasn’t expecting as I took my seat in the front row was for a mid-age, tan skin, handsome man with tattoos and a thick British accent to walk out of the office. I wasn’t the only girl who sighed at his devastatingly handsome face.

“Good morning class. Let’s start with basic attendance so I can put faces to names and then we will get started.” The words rolled out of his mouth with the most sensual deep British accent.

The professor for War and Peace in Historical Perspective was not at all what I thought. Not with his crisp black button-up that had to top button undone and the sleeves rolled up. Not with the inky shadows that peaked up the collar of his shirt and down his very muscular forearm.

I was too busy daydreaming about those muscular forearms holding my waist to hear him call my name.

“Mrs. Y/N?” He asked again, which I only heard because of my seatmate elbowing me.

“Here.” I hesitantly lifted my hand, slowly sinking back into my seat out of embarrassment. His gaze fell upon me with his golden honey eyes.

“Next time, if you choose to be in the front, be more present.” He scolded me before moving on. A blush rose over my cheeks with the stern words.

~~~~

My War and Peace class hadn’t necessarily gotten better but also not worse. My work excelled and I never got below a B. So one could imagine my disappointment when my latest paper on Torture Tactics in War got a C-.

Mr. Singers' hand stayed on my desk as he whispered into my ear.

“See me after class or during office hours today.” His deep voice rolled through my body, shooting straight in between my thighs.

Was it inappropriate to have a huge sexual crush on my teacher who was 20+ my senior? Absolutely. Did it stop me? No. Goosebumps rolled down my bare legs and under my pleated white skirt. I nodded my head quickly as he moved to the next student.

After mentally going through my schedule I decided it would be best to stop by during office hours later.

~~~

My fist lightly knocked on Mr. Singers' office door.

“Come in.” He rumbled.

I opened the door before stepping into the dark space. His dark mahogany desk was neat and organized with papers and notes. The room only being illuminated by a tall lamp in one corner and a smaller salt lamp in the other corner.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask as my hands pull at the end of my navy sweater.

“Ah, yes Mrs. Y/N I wanted to discuss your last paper. Sit.” He nodded to the chair across from him. My feet moved on their own accord to sit, as if aching to obey his every word.

“Yeah I saw I got a C- and I was pretty confused. Is there any way I could revise the paper? I planned on using the topic for my dissertation.” I pulled out the printed paper from my bag.

He watched my every movement very closely. His eyes raked my body from my white headband, over my navy blue sweater and white skirt, and down my bare legs that were currently crossed.

“Yes, the topic is very good however the research is not accurate which in turn made most of your paper inaccurate. I was very disappointed to have to give you a C. You are a bright girl Y/N. I know you have a bright future in history, so I do want to work with you so you can gain better research skills and a better understanding of the topic.” He spoke, moving his dark round glasses back onto his face.

The glasses gave him a nerdy Clark Kent look. The glasses made me want to rip off his shirt and ride him. My thighs squeezed a bit tighter at the warmth that pooled in the lowest parts of me. I nodded with understanding before he continued.

“I specialized in War Torture when I was in school. I interviewed real victims and studied the methods and techniques.” He paused pushing up his sleeves and leaning back before continuing. “In the least creepy way possible, I became a master of torture and its history. When I decide I want to know something, I won’t stop until I devour all I can about it.” He finished.

I think I was delirious because I swear that last phrase was an innuendo. My toes curled in my black boots.

“I understand, and I would love your help since you’re so knowledgeable about it. I double majored in History and Journalism so I could research. How would this work? Should I stay after class or come to office hours?” I asked with a tilt of my head, I felt my hair fall off of one shoulder as I did so.

“How about it this, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday you stop by at let’s say 5:30? Right after office hours so that way we don’t take time from other students.” He asked with his eyebrows raised.

“That works for me! Is there anything I should bring sir?” I asked as I gathered my things.

“Maybe a notebook and your laptop for notes. Other than that we can wing it as we go.” He finished with a small smile and a shrug of one shoulder.

We said goodbyes before I walked out of his office, my thighs now slick in anticipation.

~~~

“Today I figured we could work on the actual technical details of the methods. It is important to understand the thought behind each movement.” Azriel spoke as I walked into his office.

We have been doing this mentorship for the last two months so far. It’s been going well, both of us flirting now and again but never quite crossing the line. He asked me to call him by his first name outside of class, and what a beautiful name he had. Azriel.

I felt his eyes take over my outfit choice for the day. With the warmer weather, my skirt and sweater combo has become more rare. Today I wore a tight white skirt with a cropped white tank top with a thin dark blue cardigan over it and some platform boots. even with my platforms Azriel still stood over me.

“You-you want me to torture you?” My breath hitched with the statement. He let out a small chuckle under his breath.

“No, I’m going to see if you can handle the most basic form of torture. If we can’t understand what torture feels like how can we accurately report it?” He said while moving close to me.

“So what are you going to do to me Mr.Singer?” I asked looking up into his eyes.

“Sensory deprivation. We start with sight, sit down.” He voices as he walks behind me and gently pushes on my shoulder to sit me down.

I took deep breaths as his large hands brought a thick strip of black fabric in front of my face. I felt his presence all too well as he placed the cloth over my eyes and tied it behind my head.

“They start with sensory tactics because there is nothing quite like the paranoia of not being able to see your capturers and what they are doing.” He spoke, his voice drawing quieter as if he moved across the room.

“For example,” He whispered in my ear, easing a small jump out of me. I hadn’t heard his come back, his footsteps silent.

“You have no idea what I’m about to do to you.” He whispered in my other ear, running his fingers over my shoulder. Goosebumps appeared in his wake.

“Can I remove my cardigan? It’s warm in here.” I asked before my fingers fumbled to find the bow holding the top of my cardigan closed. I felt a pair of hands wrap around my own small hands. His fingers slide over mine, quickly pulling the strings of the bow and slowly sliding my cardigan off.

“How are you feeling?” His voice rumbled thick with an accent as he took my cardigan out of my lap.

“I’m ok, it just feels like everything is heightened. Like I can feel everything around me, every breath, every touch. How is this torture?” I whispered with a shaky breath. I know his touch could be innocent but with the massive want between us, every touch feels like he’s about to fuck me.

“It isn’t yet, the next thing they would do would be take away your hearing, they would play sounds that would drive you insane. I’m not going to subject you to that however I am going to create certain sounds and I want you to identify the sounds and objects. Knowing how to use the heightened hearing to your advantage is something that could be very useful in a situation like this.” This time I heard his steps, like he purposefully made them louder.

I gave a nod, moving my hands under my thighs to keep from fidgeting. The first sound I heard sounded like glass. I waited another second before responding to be sure.

“Is it a glass? Like a cup?” I tilted my head towards the sound.

“Yes very good. Would you like some water Y/N?” I felt his approach to my front. I gave another quick nod, sticking out my hands for the cup.

“Ha, knowing you if I tried to hand you this glass you would spill it all over yourself.” He chuckled under his breath.

“You’re not wrong, but how else am I supposed to drink the water?” I lifted a curious brow even though he couldn’t see it.

“Tilt your head back.”

A simple command, yet hearing it set my body alight. I felt warmth gather low in my belly as I did what he asked. As I felt his fingers grasp my chin, pulling open my mouth, I felt that warmth seep out of me. I tried to cross my legs, not realizing how close he truly was.

“Is something wrong Y/N?” He asked with what sounded like knowingness in his voice. I tried to shake my head but couldn’t because of his grip.

“Use your words.” He spoke again. More heat seeped into my panties at his command.

“Nope, nothing's wrong.” My voice came out more breathless than intended.

He hummed before touching the cold rim of the glass to my bottom lip. I felt him tip back my head some more before pouring in the water.

“Would you like to know something Y/N?” He asked as he closed my mouth, allowing me to swallow with a gulp.

“What’s that Mr.Singer?” I asked, feeling his thumb coming up to wipe a small dribble of water that escaped my lips.

“You look divine like this, I can only imagine what you would look like if I could see your eyes.” He whispered as his hand moved from my jaw into my hair.

I sucked in a harsh breath before lifting my hands to remove the blindfold that prevents me from seeing him.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I didn’t say you could take it off just yet.” His voice was light and full of amusement. Then the entire room shifted as his hand fisted my hair and brought my face closer to his.

I felt his heated gaze take over my body as his breaths gained speed. Then I heard the most torturous sound leave his lips. A groan that sounded like I hit him. Then his heat was gone, all contact broken.

“I shouldn’t do this. You’re my student.” He spoke with anguish. I stood quickly, a little too quickly by the way I swayed. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, steadying me. One hand found the tie holding together the blindfold, I quickly undid it and let it fall to the floor.

My eyes raked over his chest as I adjusted to the light. Did he get hotter while I couldn’t see? His shirt was messy like he had been raking his hands over it. And when I tilted my head to meet his eyes, a whole head and a half taller than me, the hunger I found there was insatiable. And whatever he found my eyes must have changed something for him.

“Fuck it.” He whispered before pulling my head closer to him, smashing my lips into his. I melted as he kissed me.

He kissed me like he was a man dying of starvation and I was his only food source. The hand that was holding the back of my neck moved into my hair pulling it tightly. He ripped his mouth from mine with a gasp.

“Fuck.” He muttered with a new horse and raspy voice. There was a war in his eyes, a conflicting battle.

I decided to end that battle by slipping one of my fingers over his black button-up, slowly undoing each button. When his chest was fully revealed I took a second to marvel at the gorgeous tattoo that spanned his entire muscles chest before pressing a kiss into his pecks.

“Please, Mr.Singer?” I asked, looking up at him with doe eyes and using my softest voice. I saw the battle end and that hunger take over again.

“Jesus fuck, you will be the death of me, baby.” He grunted as his hands slid under my thighs and lifted me onto his desk.

A smile overtook my face as his hands gripped my ass. I gently tugged on the open shirt, asking for him to remove it. I almost let out a cry at the loss of his heat. He pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion, stepping back in between my spread legs.

Azriel slants his mouth over mine once again, his hands grazing over my bare thighs, reaching under my skirt. I let out a small moan when his fingers gripped my thighs.

“Do you like that Y/N?” He asked with a raised eyebrow before sliding his hands under my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the desk.

“God yes, Mr. Singer.” I moaned as he continued to manhandle me. His hands roamed from my thighs to my waist pulling my chest into his.

“Fuck I love the way you say my name. But I love your beautiful tits even more.” He grunted out before pulling my tank top down.

“You have no idea how many times you’ve distracted me in class. Prancing around in these tiny skirts without any tights and your tiny tops. The number of times I’m lecturing and all I can look at are your beautiful thighs.” He ground out as he brought his mouth to my nipples.

A wave of pleasure rolled through me as his tongue swirled my nipped. A loud moan fell out of my mouth when he lightly bit it. My hips bucked forward, almost causing me to fall off the desk but his hands were there, sliding me back onto the steady table.

“Careful there baby. Tell me what you need.” His breath whispered over my nipples with a shuttering sensation.

“You. I need you Azriel.” I whined, grinding my hips into the air. He fell to his knees, his hands pushing my skirt up.

“How do you need me? Do you need my tongue?” He asked as he licked a line from the base of my core to my clit, letting his tongue linger with an audible groan.

“Do you need my fingers?” His strong fingers followed his tongue, drawing a line through my wetness and swirling around my clit, causing me to gasp. My hand reached for my nipple as he paused, leaning back to look at me. After a beat of silence and direct eye contact, he said,

“Or do you need my cock?”

I’m pretty sure I almost orgasmed from those words alone, but I still replied.

“I don’t know, just please. Touch me. Anything, please.” I begged as my hips writhed against the desk. A wicked cruel look came into his eyes.

“Please what? If you’re gonna beg you might wanna address who you’re begging too.” An eyebrow hitched as he slowly brought the finger that hand wiped my wetness to his lips. Rubbing my arousal onto his lips.

“Please, Mr.Singer. I don’t care how but I need you to fuck me.” I whined out.

“Good girl.” My body came alive at the praise and the sight of him moving forward, face into my pussy.

His tongue licked another stripe before sucking on my clit over my panties. One of my hands fell to his hair, holding him into me as he continued to eat me like his life depended on it. His fingers slid up my thighs before grabbing the waistband of my panties and tugging them down. The cold air sent shivers down my spine as he hesitated.

“Mr.Singer?” I asked, looking down at where he sat with his eyes locked on my bare core.

“You are so fucking beautiful. I haven’t stopped thinking about this since the first day of class so I’m going to enjoy it,” he whispered in a daze. His hand forced my legs open even wider, completely exposing me to him.

His thick fingers traced every part of me as one of his hands fell to his hard erection in his pants. My gaze slid down to stare at the now bulging point in his black briefs. I took a moment to truly appreciate the sight before me.

One of the hottest men sitting on his knees, palm rubbing himself, his lips glistening with my arousal, hair a tossed mess from my fingers, and those damn tattoos that moved with each of his breaths. I nearly came at the sight.

I closed my legs, nimbly sliding onto the floor in front of him. My knees hit the hard floor as his gaze dragged over my bouncing tits. One of my hands found his belt and tugged, trying my best to convey what I wanted without words.

He stood quickly, one hand unbuckling his belt and pulling it off in a fast and clean motion. He took a second to wrap up the belt and place it on his desk, not once breaking eye contact. My thin hands slid up his legs, quickly unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down.

His cock sprang free with a small bounce. A small gasp left my mouth as I beheld the sight of his long and thick cock that has barbell piercings along the shaft. I rubbed my thumb over his head, collecting the small bit of pre-cum, and sucked it into my mouth.

Azriels head fell back with a groan, one that became even louder as one of my hands wrapped around his length. I let my lips softly kiss the head of his cock before sucking it into my mouth. I took a minute to warm up to his size before looking up at him.

The second I made eye contact his hand flew to my hair and forced me down on his cock. Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to take it all.

“Come on, be a good girl and take my cock, pretty girl.” He ground out as his thumb from his free hand smudged my mascara with my tears.

I moaned around his cock and I forced myself up and down him. He was too long to fit in my mouth so with what I couldn’t swallow I used my hand. I pulled off of his cock with a pop, leaning forward and spitting on it before using two hands to jerk him. I moved his cock over my chest, savoring the professor's low groans and curses.

I felt two strong arms slid under my arms, stopping my movement. He picked me up until I was face to face with him and my feet were dangling. He started at me with so much heat to anyone else it might seem like anger. He slid his arms to my waist and pulled my body against him as I kissed me. On instinct, my legs wrapped around his waist, lining me up perfectly to feel the head of his cock push against me.

We both gasped at the contact. It didn’t take him long to walk us over to the wall by the chair, pushing me against it and thrusting his cock so he slid through my folds. A loud moan leaves my mouth when he hits my clit.

“I need you. I’m clean, please fuck me Azriel.” I begged.

A long and overdrawn “Fuck” left his bruised lips. One of his hands guided his cock to line up with my hole.

“I’m gonna fuck you, it’s not gonna be sweet, and it’s not going to be slow. It’ll be hard, and dirty, but fuck will it feel good. Is that ok baby?” He tormented me by nudging the very tip of him into me.

“Yes, god yes.” I threw my head against the wall. I would do anything to just put him inside me.

“Good, I want you to ride me, I wanna see those beautiful tits bounce as you struggle to take me in your little cunt.” He whispered into my ear before moving us so he was sitting on the chair and I was sitting on his thigh. I rubbed against his thigh for any friction I could get.

“Fuck you’re killing me.” His hands ran up and down my sides, as I readjusted myself so I was hovering over his cock.

One of my hands gripped his shaft helping me to sit on his cock. I did it slowly, letting myself feel each inch, feel the stretch of him. We both moaned at the sensation, and he didn’t give me much time to adjust before his hands were moving my hips.

I moved with his hands, grinding on his cock, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt something as good as this. You are perfect.” He said as he tilted his head back. I started to move up and down on his shaft, every so often switching to grinding against him.

His head snapped back to lock me in the eye before his hands found my hips with a bruising grip, stopping my bouncing. He thrust his hips up, hard and fast.

“Oh fuck.” I screamed out as he continued to fuck me.

His arms enclosed my waist fully, holding me to his chest as my fingers raked the strong muscles.

“You’re so good, thank you sir.” I moaned and pulled my nails down so hard I left marks.

His replying hum was more than enough for me as he moved his lips to suck on the sensitive spot between my neck and ear.

I felt a tight tension run down my spine as my orgasm grew closer. He let me grab one of his hands, and I guided it around my throat, gently squeezing to signal what I wanted.

“You want me to choke you? Maybe you did pick the right field.” He muttered with a condescending laugh. But still, he obliged, squeezing the sides so I got that beautiful blood rush. His pace quickened as I tightened around him.

“Cum baby, milk my cock with your cunt. Be my good girl and cum.” He said before he licked a strip of my neck.

My orgasm shook my body with a force that I hadn’t felt before. Frat guys are notorious for not making girls cum. My cunt squeezed him as he jerked up into my cunt before pulling out. I whimper at the loss of contact before I felt ropes of his cum paint my stomach, just where it would be if he were inside me.

As I came down from my high I felt his fingers dragging up my stomach, collecting his cum onto his digits. He brought them to my mouth and pushed them into my lips. I took no time licking them clean of his cum and sucking them like they were his cock. I kept my most innocent eyes as I swirled my tongue around them and popped them out of my mouth.

“One day I want to see your mouth full of my cum. For now, I need to clean you up and get you back to my place.” He gently lifted me and sat me down on the couch before turning and getting a rag out of his office cabinet.

He sunk to his knees before me, gently wiping me clean and muttering praises. My mind was a puddle and my body was spent. He gently pulled my tank top back up and covered me with his suit jacket. We made sure the coast was clear before walking to his car and driving to his apartment where we spent the rest of the night fucking, cuddling, and getting to know each other better.

~~~

A/N: here it is!!!!!! Next up, chapt 4 of S&S!!!!!!!

Taglist: @littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibelle

[lillaydee]

One More Try Part 2

Landlord Joel Miller / Reader

They say a woman is tested when her man has nothing. But a man is tested when he has everything. What happens if you both passed the test, but your partners did not?

WARNINGS:

Unplanned Pregnancy, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), SO MUCH FLUFF, Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Reader was pregnant before meeting Joel, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Miscarriage (Not OC), Landlord Joel, No Outbreak AU

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 1

---

Joel knocked on your door one Friday night about two weeks after you first moved in, quite aggressively, too, you thought. You opened the door, still in the clothes you were wearing to campus, a box of Chinese in your hand. He held up a cheque that you had slipped under his door on your way up. You had finally gotten your bank account sorted and got your first weekly pay as Frank’s RA, so you wrote a cheque as first payment for the medical bill he paid for you. You had budgeted it properly. If you clocked in eight hours a day for work and paid him half your weekly pay every Friday, you would finish paying him in four months. You could still do your dissertation work after that and on the weekends.

Damn he looked good. He was all dressed up. His usual t shirt swapped with a flannel, his usual light jeans swapped for a darker pair that looked newer, his hair styled a bit and combed neatly, and was he wearing cologne? You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. You leaned against the door and joked,

“Wow Miller, you look good. Hot date?”

He flushed, slightly, but ignored your question. “What the hell is this?” he asked instead, waving the cheque in your face.

“It’s a cheque,” you answered, “You cash it at the bank for money.”

“I’m aware miss Smarty Pants, but what is it for?”

“Well… I have to start paying you back. For the hospital bill.”

“Did I ask you to pay me back?”

“No… but I got my first pay today, so I’m paying you back.”

He took a deep, controlled breath and tore the cheque before depositing it in the trash can beside your door, telling you to keep your money.

“Hey! What was that for?” you asked, a little bit annoyed.

“Keep it. For the baby. Don’t even think of paying me back.”

“Joel… I can’t…” but he held his hand up.

“Not taking no for an answer. I said keep it,” and walked away.

You went to the window in the corridor, watching him get in his truck and drive away. You didn’t know why, but you felt a bit deflated. Was it because he refused to accept your money? Or because you didn’t see him as often as you thought you would? After he went with the group to talk to Max, he came to your place once to fix your window, but Maria was there so you two didn’t talk much. You didn’t see him around much after that, you only got home after it’s dark, and left early in the mornings. You needed to, to fit in the eight working hours and still get a few hours of work done on your doctorate. He lived right below you, and yet you never saw him. And now, the first time you saw him in ten-ish days, he was dressed up, smelling so good and looking so delicious you could eat him alive. You heaved a sigh you didn’t know you needed to release. It had to have been a date, right? Men looking like Joel Miller do not sit around at home on Friday nights. They go out for single, non-pregnant ladies to flock around and swoon over.

You went back inside when his truck drove out of sight. He won’t take your cheque. Fine, you’ll just write him another one. You finished eating and got your laptop out. Time to do some work.

You woke up just after dawn broke that Saturday, your neck stiff from doing your work hunched over the coffee table. You needed to buy a proper desk if you were going to do your work at home, but that’s a bit beyond your budget right now. So, you quickly showered and left for the campus, your laptop bag on your shoulders, your trusted sling bag crossed over your body, a piece of plain toast in your hand for your breakfast. Joel’s truck wasn’t where it usually was. Of course he didn’t come home. Men looking like Joel Miller do not come straight home after a date, what stupid self-controlled women would let men looking like Joel Miller go home after a date? Your feet suddenly felt a bit heavy, trudging along to begin your few miles hike to campus. Your apartment was just outside the compound, but the campus was huge. You stayed in your study room all day, eating ramen and an apple for lunch. When you got home after sundown, his truck was still not there.

For the first time in years, you had no one to wait for. No one to call and check if they’re okay, or if they’re coming home for dinner. No one to wake up to when they come home late. It’s just you now. It’s only been two weeks, you thought. This was normal. You needed time to adjust to being alone again. You had ramen again that night, knowing that you probably needed to eat healthier stuff, but you didn’t have the energy to cook, not that you had anything to cook in your small kitchen. You had been surviving on cafeteria food and takeout, and whatever bits of groceries you could buy from the small store on campus. You thought about going to the farmer’s market the next day, but the thought just made you tired. You were simply not ready.

You decided to go to campus again that Sunday. If you were going to graduate on time, you needed to get your act together. You didn’t have time to mourn your relationship with a man who left you as if you hadn’t been supporting his hopes and dreams for the past ten years, you had your own future to think about. One where you would be a single mother, so you needed to complete this dissertation as fast as you could, while working as much as you could, so that you can make enough money to prepare for the baby’s arrival, and get a reliable, full-time job to support them and give them anything they needed growing up.

When you left for campus that Sunday morning, Joel was still not home, not that you were checking, or knocking on his door while you were slipping a newly written cheque under his door. But his truck was not out front, not that you were looking for it. You spent the entirety of your walk to campus wondering why you cared. Was it because he looked out for you even before he knew you? It had to be, no way you felt a certain way about him, right? If you did, and that was a big IF, it must be because you were feeling vulnerable. You couldn’t really be catching feelings for some man you just met two days after you got dumped, right? Plus, even IF you were indeed feeling that way, the man couldn’t possibly be available. He was out the whole weekend – he must have a girlfriend or something. One that he spends his weekends with. Yeah. That’s it. That’s where he was. So, get him out of your head, you pathetic, dumped, single pregnant lady. No need to imprint on the first man who was nice to you.

When you left for work on Monday, his truck was finally back. He must’ve come back late Sunday night; it wasn’t there when you arrived after spending more than 12 hours on campus. You felt great that day. No nausea at all, for some reason. Maria stayed with you after work for dinner, but you declined her offer to drive you home, thinking that you should get some more work done while you were feeling great. You promised her you would get an Uber to go home. But of course, you didn’t. You could walk the distance. You need exercise anyway. When you got home, Joel was standing outside the apartment building, his arms crossed across his chest.

“Did you just get back?” he asked. His eyes scanned the road. “Did you walk?”

“Erm… no… I went out for groceries. I took an Uber.”

“You don’t have any groceries with you, and I literally just saw you walk down the street.”

“What were you doing out here at this time?”

“I was taking the trash out, throwing some cheque someone kept writing for me when I specifically told her not to. Also, I am perfectly safe within the vicinity of my apartment, and not walking alone and pregnant in the dark,” he said.

“Joel, you have to take the money okay. Please cash my cheque. I can’t be relying on you like this,” you pleaded, ignoring his other statement.

“Have you been walking home alone at night all this while?” and… he ignored you right back.

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, opening the door for you to get in. He walked you up and shut the door behind you when you walked into the safety of your apartment without saying another word.

The next day, after work, you were planning to go up to the study, when a wave of nausea hit you out of nowhere. Maria, concerned, offered to drive you home. But you told her that you couldn’t – the nausea will go away, you hadn’t been hit with it full on yet, so far. You had to use the study, you said. The coffee table was too low, and the kitchen counter was too high and too narrow for you to do your work comfortably. Okay, she said, let’s go to Ikea then, get you a proper study table. You kept quiet and shook your head, no. You paid for the study room; you are going to use it. You didn’t need to worry your best friend with your financial woes. Sure, the small settlement Max gave you had helped ease the burden off a few things, but you didn’t see why you needed to spend money you could save for the baby on a desk you didn’t really need, when you had the option of using the one at the room you paid for. So, you went upstairs, had a little nap in your chair, and did your work for a few hours, Maria having left only after you promised her you would Uber home if you felt too ill.

When you got to the apartment compound, your ridiculously good-looking landlord was right where he was the night before.

“Taking the trash out again Miller?” you asked playfully.

“You definitely walked,” he said. “It’s fucking far. It’s not safe,” he said.

You just rolled your eyes at him. “I’m a big girl Miller. Gonna be a mom soon, I can take care of myself.”

He rolled his eyes right back at you, silently opening the door, again, walking you up before shutting it closed behind you.

You were not at all okay on Wednesday, Frank telling Maria to drive you straight home after work, despite your many protests. She ordered food for the both of you, and you fell asleep before she even left. You had to take Thursday off, nausea hitting you full blast it woke you up. You spent the day in bed, falling in and out of sleep, running back and forth to the bathroom to empty your empty stomach further. Around lunchtime, a knock sounded at your door. You were too out of it to even get up to open it, and decided to ignore whoever it may be.

“I have a key, you know. So, you either open up, or I will open it myself,” your landlord’s voice came through.

Shit. You look around your small apartment, the full trash cans, the clothes from last night all over the place, your bags, your laptop, your plates… Shit.

“I can hear you moving around. You have one minute to open the door, or I’m coming in,” he warned.

Shit. You took the three steps from your bed to the door and opened it a smidge.

“Hi Joel.”

There he was, you handsome landlord, arms full of takeout bags and groceries.

“What’s all this?”

“A little bird told me you were too sick to work today, and that your place is woefully devoid of food. So, here I am.”

You were going to kill Maria. Tattle tale.

“You’re going to let me in?” he asked. “I promise I’m not a creep. Just trying to put my brother’s girl at ease. She’s going to kill me if I don’t help you out. So will my Mama.”

You took a deep breath and opened the door wider for him, cringing on the inside at how messy your place was. But he just shut the door with his elbow, made his way to the small kitchen before plating up some food for you, placed it in front of you at the coffee table, and told you firmly to eat. As you did, he moved about the small unit, picking this and that up, washing the dishes in the kitchen that was so small it made him look gigantic, and stored all the groceries he brought away. You didn’t even have the energy to protest, having used up all your energy to throw up all morning. You finished your food, placed the plate on the coffee table, pulled your feet up onto the loveseat and fell asleep, already feeling better than you did when he walked in.

You woke up about a few hours later in bed. How the hell did you get here? You could’ve sworn you fell asleep on the loveseat. You sat up and was immediately struck by the wonderful smell of something simmering gently on the stove, and, oh my God your apartment was spotless. All the mess you were worried about when Joel knocked were gone.

Shit. Joel. Did Joel clean up while you were sleeping? Your dirty laundry was gone... did he pick up your dirty underwear too? Oh… the horror.

The door unlocked, and Maria and Frank walked in. Both smiling at you, asking you how you were feeling.

“How did you get in? Where did you get my key?”

“Ran into your very good-looking landlord downstairs. He gave me a copy,” Frank said, his eyes naughty. “Maria called him before we left. Didn’t want to wake you if you were sleeping.”

Maria placed the key and her purse on your coffee table, looking around the place, her eyes lingering on the pot on the stove. “Well, I was going to cook you something, but I see Joel took care of that.”

Frank got a spoon and sampled a bit of whatever it was on the stove. “Damn, that man can cook! He’s a good one darling. You should keep him,” he said, winking at you.

Maria snorted, while you just threw yourself face first onto the bed again. “How are you feeling babe?” she asked, stroking your hair softly, your mumbled ‘better’ into the mattress making her smile.

Frank sat on the loveseat and told you to take the rest of the week off. No use coming to work when you can barely stand, he said. Work can wait. You kept quiet, deciding to not share your worries with him, or anyone, for that matter. He stayed for a few more minutes before leaving you and Maria alone, saying he will only see you on Monday, and only IF you were feeling better, his finger pointing at you as a warning that he was serious. There was no use protesting anyway, you could hardly get off the bed.

Maria laid in bed with you, you two watching some show on Netflix on her tablet as she waited for Tommy to pick her up. Her car was at the shop today, and she insisted on staying with you until Tommy came with dinner, wanting to make sure you eat well, at the very least. She had known you since you both started your PhD journey, and she knew how neglectful you can be about food when it came to yourself, often opting to eat whatever you could get your hands on rather than putting much effort, especially when you were feeling sick. She turned the stove off, taking the pot off the burner. She took out some disposable containers from the cabinet, and ladled the contents into them, before leaving them on the counter to cool. You just watched, feeling thankful that you would at least have something to reheat and eat the next few days, unsure if you had the energy to do anything much.

When Tommy arrived, Joel came in with him, a basket of cleaned and folded laundry in his hands, placing it on the floor next to the closet after softly nudging the door shut. The four of you ate dinner amidst mild chit chats and laughter, Joel sitting cross legged on the floor with Tommy, you and Maria on the love seat. Somehow, you felt extremely comfortable, despite not spending much time with Tommy before your breakup, and only knowing Joel for a couple of weeks. Conversation flowed smoothly, and when dinner was done, they helped you clean up, before leaving you for the night.

You hugged Tommy and Maria goodbye, and turned to Joel, who was the last to leave the unit.

“Thank you, Joel. I don’t think I can thank you enough. I am mortified you cleaned up if I’m honest. I’m not usually this messy. And you did my laundry too!! Oh God… I’ve just been… anyway, I’m so sorry to be so much trouble. Thank you again Joel.”

“It’s no trouble. We all need some help from time to time. Like I said, I’m just downstairs. If you need anything, I’m right here. Okay?” he said, taking your hand in his for a bit, gently squeezing it, before quickly letting go.

You slept hard that night, your hand still feeling the ghost of his small touch earlier. So hard, you didn’t wake up until noon on Friday. You spent the day doing some work, hoping to make some progress even if a little, despite not feeling so good. The nausea had lessened for now, thank God. But the lethargy lingered. Too tired to do anything. God, you were not even three months in yet.

You had some of the soup Joel had made for you for lunch, man oh man the man could cook. You were contemplating heating up another serving for dinner when he knocked on the door, with a bag of takeout in his hands, all dressed up, just as he was last Friday. He told you he would be out for the weekend, but he won’t be far away, so if you needed anything, just give him a call, and he will be right over, okay? He handed you the bag, the smell of Thai food invading your senses. You told him he didn’t have to do this, you could order your own food, you feel better now, but he waved you away, and shut the door behind him, but not before reminding you to call him if you needed him.

You put the bag on the counter, and suddenly just felt… tired. You picked at the food he left you, feeling a different sort of nausea than you felt the days before.

You spent the entirety of the weekend at the study, putting in as much work as you can, so that you don’t think about your landlord spending the weekend at his girlfriend’s, instead of with you.

Shit. Pregnancy had made you delusional, hadn’t it?

---

WARNING - SOME MENTIONS OF BLOOD

You spent the next week avoiding Joel, spending more time at the study after work, walking home extremely late at night. It’s not right, you thought. He had someone; you were sure of it. Why else would he spend weekends away? And here you are, a hormonal, recently dumped mess of a woman, looking at some lucky lady’s boyfriend with heart eyes, all because he was a decent enough man to help you out every now and again. It’s not right. Max left you for someone else, you were going to make sure you didn’t contribute to another woman’s heart being broken if it was the last thing you did.

You found out from Maria that he and Tommy used to run a small but successful construction business, which went belly up when a developer for a big project that hired them ran off without paying them. Luckily, Joel had purchased the apartment complex with ten units to rent out before that happened, so they had a fallback income to rely on. Tommy helped out, managing the property, fixing this and that when needed, and eventually the two opened a small workshop, taking custom furniture orders. It started doing really well too, however, they had to cut back, a lot. They were no longer making the kind of money they were making when they had the construction business. Tommy was already living with Maria, but Joel had to sell his house and move into the complex, and that’s when his…

At this, Maria shook her head and stopped talking. You were sure there was more to the story but decided that with your newfound determination to avoid the man, it was none of your business.

Not that the plan worked, he was always at the entrance every time you got home. When you got home later and later, he took a chair out, and whittled at some wood under the light of the doorway while waiting for you. You limited your interactions to small smiles and a hello, but he didn’t falter. He would still walk you up, and closed the door behind you once you were in.

You went about your life for the next month or so, going to your appointment with Tess, working, fending off morning sickness, writing your dissertation, going home. And with the exception of his weekends away, Joel would be there waiting for you to get home safe. You wrote him a cheque for your medical bill every Friday, and every time, he would return them to you, or tear them up. Either way, no money was ever deducted from your account for that. It’s exasperating. It was as if he was determined to make your life hell, if hell consisted of thirsting over your ridiculously good-looking and gentlemanly landlord who wouldn’t take the money you owed him.

By the time your pregnancy hit four months, you were becoming more and more lethargic, falling asleep if you so much as sat still for a while. You were awoken one Thursday night at your study, a very worried looking Maria and Joel looking at you as if you’d died. He had gotten worried that you hadn’t come home, called you numerous times, but your phone was on silent. So, he called Maria, who flew out of her apartment to check up on you. He drove you home that night, not saying anything, but walked you up as usual, closing the door behind you.

The next morning, he was waiting for you at his truck when you left for work. He opened the passenger door for you, silently asking you to get in. You hesitated, but he pointedly told you he would drive alongside you the whole way over if he needed to, so you got in. He buckled you up, and drove you over, not saying anything as usual. When you left the faculty building late that night, his truck was right there, him whittling away on a piece of wood at the entrance, sitting on a folded chair he had brought along with him, all dressed up as he normally would be on Friday nights.

To say you were stunned was an understatement. It was almost ten at night, what was he doing there? Had to make sure you made it home safe, he said. Can’t have you falling asleep alone in that study again now, can we? You felt horrible. He was still obviously going to his girlfriend’s place, but he was delaying it to make sure you got home safe. You kept quiet during the short drive but stopped him before he got out of the truck to walk you up.

“Joel, you don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself. I refuse to be in the way of your life. Someone’s obviously waiting for you, Joel. How would they feel knowing you were late because you were picking up your pregnant tenant?”

He looked stunned for a little bit, but then smiled and said “well, I know for a fact that she’s proud of me.”

Huh???

“Where do you think I’ve been every weekend?”

“Er… I don’t know. Your girlfriend’s place?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Oh. Fuck, why are you blushing? You can’t see blushes in the dark, right?

“So where do you go every weekend?”

“These past few weekends? I take my mom out to dinner, and then spend the weekend with her. She lives alone, about 10 minutes from here. I usually only do that once a month, but she broke her foot a few weeks ago, so I went every weekend. Tommy joins too sometimes.”

Aww… shit. Good-looking, gentlemanly and kind to his mother. What the fuck were you going to do now?

---

That Sunday you decided to skip any form of work at all. You cleaned, ordered some groceries online and went downstairs to do your laundry. Your neighbours mostly consisted of single university students, usually much younger than you, with the exception of Mrs Adler, an older lady staying there while her house was being fixed due to fire damage. She was chatting you up while you were folding, when two younger tenants came in, girls in their early twenties, wearing next to nothing, showing off their perfect bodies. They were both expressing their disappointments that a certain older man was not around that day.

“Awww… looks like I’m gonna need to break my shower on purpose…” girl one said.

“Not if mine breaks first!!” girl two interrupted, before they both erupted in good natured laughter.

You couldn’t blame them. He was a good-looking man. And if being in his mid-30s made him older then you were old too. Except, when a woman is in her mid-30s, she’s old. When a man is in his mid-30s, he’s mature, at least according to the early twenties like these two. You couldn’t help but stare at their exposed body parts, the young, cellulite free body parts with supple skin that you used to have over 10 years ago. Nowadays, whatever crash diets that worked like a charm in your early twenties no longer worked, and you being pregnant was not helping. Those bodies of theirs were but a dream of what you used to have and can never ever have again.

No wonder Max left you for a younger model. And what would Joel want with you if he had these two stalking his whereabouts wearing next to nothing?

“You know dear, Joel is a very mature man. He won’t fall for those girls, no matter how hard they try. Joel is… sensible.”

You stared at Mrs Adler. Huh? Did you think out loud or something?

“I’ve known that boy since he was two. His mama is a good friend of mine. He’s a good man. He was raised right. And I know that he has been paying attention to you my dear,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Oh, come on Mrs Adler, why would he want someone like me,” you pointed at your small baby bump, “instead of those hot student bodies? He’s just a man you know.”

“Darling, the way those girls talk about him, if he wanted them, he could’ve had them. All he had to do was ask. He doesn’t. I think you should give him a chance.”

“He has never asked me out or flirted with me, Mrs Adler. I think you’ve been thinking too much,” you joked, laughing to hide your blushes.

“Oh… I don’t know… his mama told me he hasn’t shut up about a certain tenant of his…” she said, winking at you. “Oh honey, I’m just messing with you,” she coaxed, seeing you blush. “But that boy is shy dear, he is not one to flirt with you outright, if he does ask, give him a chance. God knows that boy deserves a good woman… after what he’d been through…” she shook her head sadly, before going to get her stuff from the dryer.

Okay, you need to know what it was that he’d been through now. Maybe you’ll ask Maria.

---

That week, he dropped you off on campus every morning, and picked you up every night, Monday and Friday being the only exception. After the calamity that was the previous Friday night you made a point to leave by eight that Monday, worried that he might wait for you like he did then. But he wasn’t there. Although relieved, there was a small part of you that felt a bit disappointed, but you brushed it off. After Max, you couldn’t afford to fall for someone so quickly. Once bitten, twice shy. He was just your landlord, he was nice. He helped you out the way any decent man would. That’s all.

When you arrived at the apartment an hour later, he was just about to leave to get you. He looked a little disappointed that you were already there, but walked you up anyway, again, silently closing the door behind you. The next day, he made sure to ask you what time you plan on going back, and when you tried to protest he raised his eyebrows at you. So, you told him 9pm. You saw his truck in the parking lot by 830.

On Friday, Maria stayed back with you, both of you deciding to go to the library after work. You texted Joel telling him your plan, so that he could go to his mother’s without having to wait for you. To your shock, his truck was still there when Maria dropped you off. He was sitting at his usual spot in his t shirt and shorts, waiting for you. He stood up when you got there. Maria saw and hid a smile from you, but recovered by asking you if you’d like to go to the farmers market with her and Tommy the next day? They’ll pick you up at eight.

Joel walked you up as usual. You asked him why he’s not at his mom’s, and he just shrugged and said her foot was better, thank you for asking. He’ll see her over the weekend.

The next day, Joel was waiting for you in his truck, and not Maria. You two will meet them there, he said. The drive to the farmer’s market was quiet, but you had never felt awkward when in silence with Joel. He was that comforting to be around. When you got to the market, you were met by both Tommy and Maria, both grinning at the sight of the two of you together, Joel helping you out of the truck as usual. He took the tote you had brought and refused to give it back to you.

As the four of you went around the market, Joel walked silently beside you, his presence bringing you warmth. Anytime you purchased something, he would take the items off your hands and placed them in the bag, but not before trying to fight you off paying the vendor. Over the next hour, this became a joke for the both of you, each competing to pay for something you wanted to buy before the winner eventually pumped a victorious fist and the two of you laughing as if you had known each other forever. Without realising it, you two were standing closer and closer together, and he began placing his hand on the small of your back to lead you away from vendors once you were done shopping. Tommy and Maria walked hand in hand behind you, both exchanging meaningful looks and satisfied smiles with each other.

You stopped for brunch at the café near the market before going home. You and Joel had gotten comfortable enough to share a menu and lean into each other as you perused it, wondering what you wanted to eat. When the food arrived, the four of you ate and chatted. You were feeling so comfortable for the first time since you had moved in, and unthinkingly, you took a piece of fruit from Joel’s plate. Once the fruit had entered your mouth, you paused, horrified at what you just did, and turned to look at him, an apology on your lips. You looked across the table, and Maria was just beaming at you, Tommy smiling so brightly at Joel you thought his face was going to crack. When you turned to look at Joel again, he just had the biggest smile on his face, and he pushed the plate nearer to you, before spearing a piece of omelette from your plate onto his fork and ate it. All the while, he was looking at you with a smile, daring you to chastise him.

Of course you didn’t.

After the meal, the four of you walked back to the car, still chatting and laughing as if you had known each other forever. When you got to his truck, he opened the door for you, making sure you were sat and buckled, before moving to put the tote you had brought in the back seat.

“Joel”, a voice called out.

Joel turned and went stock still. A lady with blonde hair was standing a few feet away, a man holding the hand of a little girl behind her. The little girl looked to be about five years old, her eyes and hair a carbon copy of her father’s, clearly distracted by a toy she was holding in her other hand.

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stared. His eyes on the little girl and the man holding her hand, the man who was averting his eyes, looking annoyedly anywhere else but at Joel.

“How have you been?” the lady asked, her face nervous and unsure, her eyes flickering towards you.

Tommy and Maria reappeared, Maria going to the lady, and had a quiet but obviously heated discussion with her. Tommy took Joel by the shoulder and encouraged him to get back in the car. After some wild hand gestures from both ladies, Maria walked back to Joel’s truck, and the lady walked away, looking defeated. The man with her quickly handed the little girl to her, and turned away, his face unreadable.

After some quiet talks from Tommy, Joel started the engine and drove away.

It was as if someone had pushed the reset button on Joel. He shut down, hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, his face tight, jaws clenched. You didn’t dare ask him anything, so you kept quiet. He didn’t speak at all, even as he pulled the door shut behind him after walking you up, placing the tote in your hands.

You spent Sunday morning cooking a big batch of your favourite meal. The small room had begun to feel like home to you, and cooking in the tiny kitchen made it even more so. You made enough for you to freeze and reheat over the week and decided to put several servings in a container to give to Joel. He did cook for you when you were sick, maybe it’s time you did something nice for him. He didn’t answer his door, so you placed the container on the doormat, hoping he would take it when he was available. Just as you turned around to leave, the door opened, so you quickly picked up the container to hand to him, but it wasn’t him at the door.

A kind-looking, older lady was there instead, and you just paused. She took one look at you, smiled, held her hand out to you and said,

“You must be Julia from 1A. Hi. Anita Miller. Come in! I’ve been dying to meet you.” She opened the door wider, and waited for you to come in.

“Sorry I was late answering the door,” she said, hobbling alongside you once you were inside. “My foot is still not 100%. Joel is at one of the apartments fixing something or other. Come sit, we can get to know each other,” she said, sitting down, patting the seat next to her.

You sat down and took in the apartment. You had never been to his apartment before. You realised quickly that it was nothing like yours, obviously renovated to create a bigger space for him. There seemed to be more than one bedroom, the place exceedingly clean for a bachelor pad. You understood now why Joel was so comfortable picking up after you that one time you were sick.

You and Anita chatted, getting to know one another. Her husband died about fifteen years prior, passing his construction business to Joel and Tommy to handle. They were young and made some mistakes trusting the wrong people. But they got back up, doing what they really wanted to do, using what skills they had learnt to supplement their incomes. She had a very proud mama look on her face when talking about the two. She had come to visit Joel after she had heard about the encounter at the farmer’s market. She planned on staying a few days, just to make sure Joel was fine.

You so wanted to ask her what that was about but didn’t want to seem nosy. She asked you about your pregnancy, reminiscing on when she was pregnant with her two boys while doing so. You liked her. She was very easy to talk to, but you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she was measuring you one way or another, and you couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or bad. Still, you found yourself telling her everything. It was the first time you did so. When it first happened, you told Maria and Frank the gist of it, and hadn’t had the energy to tell her anything more. Anita listened, and at the end, pulled you close to her, enveloping you in a hug.

The door opened, and you pulled yourself away from Anita’s hug. Joel walked in, a toolbox in his hand, his shirt and hair soaking wet. You guessed one of the young ladies showerheads had broken after all. He took a look at you and his mother on the couch, and turned slightly red. He muttered a quick hello before going into his bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him. You began to make excuses to leave, but Anita held your hand – don’t you dare, her eyes and raised eyebrows said, eerily like Joel’s. You took the container you had brought and suggested that you serve them lunch. Joel must be hungry.

Joel came out freshly showered and changed to his dining table set with lunch. He took a look at how you and his mama were talking easily to each other, his heart feeling fuller than it had been in years. He sat down, and the three of you ate, Anita complementing you on your cooking, Joel helping himself to a second serving, you and Anita talking about the little things going on in your lives.

Anita couldn’t help but look at her oldest boy, reading his minute body languages that she had known so well ever since he was in her belly. He was calm, relaxed. He didn’t say anything, but the silent looks he gave you told her everything. And this Julia from 1A, you seemed guarded, but somehow at the same time at ease with Joel. She liked you. You and Joel were quietly chancing looks at each other, something neither of you realised you were doing. But Anita saw. And she was happy about it. Tommy and Maria were not wrong, it seemed.

Mrs Adler came by after lunch, and the two older ladies went into the spare bedroom to catch up on their gossip. You helped Joel clean up, something that felt backwards to you. Max had never helped out in the kitchen. And you felt like you just saw a glimpse of the past that you hadn’t seen before. You thought back to the time Joel spent with you at the hospital, and remembered why you didn’t think of Max when the ultrasound session was going on. When your appendix burst a few years ago, Max only visited you for a few minutes every day, always having somewhere to be, important, money-making places. But you were the supporting girlfriend, so you didn’t mind.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Joel, asking you if you would join him for a walk. He had eaten a bit too much and needed one to avoid sleeping the evening away. Someone’s cooking was too good, he said, giving you a small wink. The two of you spent the next forty minutes or so walking around the area, you told him about your work and research, and in turn, he told you about the apartment building and his workshop. The Joel you saw back at the farmer’s market was back, it seemed. The two of you bantering and exchanging stories with each other, comfortably walking, shoulders brushing every now and again.

When you got back to the apartment, Mrs Adler was just leaving. You hugged Anita goodbye, feeling as if you had known her forever. She gave you a long and tight hug, telling you not to be a stranger. Joel walked you up as usual, but instead of silently shutting the door behind you, he took you by the wrist, and leaned in for a quick kiss on your cheek, thanking you for lunch. You kissed him back, also on the cheek, and asked him if he will drive you to work the next morning. His shyly nodded, his face blushing slightly, before turning around to leave.

You caught yourself smiling a lot for the rest of that day, even as you were mopping the floors, cleaning the bathroom, wiping the kitchen down. You felt silly, but you liked what you were feeling, just like a little girl with a crush. You went to bed smiling that night. You were still smiling when you got ready for work the next morning.

That was until, you looked at your feet in the shower and found the water red with blood from between your legs.

PART 3

[aurumacadicus]

I finished binging Miss Fisher again:

"So why did you fall out with Howard, anyway?" Steve asked, slouching down in his seat as the car inched up the driveway. He hadn't asked before, and as he'd watched Peggy's hands tighten on the steering wheel as they passed through the gates to the Stark mansion, it finally occurred to him to wonder why he wasn't still involved with SHIELD after being one of the founders of SSR.

Peggy worked her jaw delicately. "We had a disagreement about values," she finally said.

"I can't imagine why," Steve muttered, and relaxed a little when the corner of Peggy's mouth curled up.

"Well, he'll surely enjoy me coming to him for help," Peggy added with a sigh, pulling to a stop. She took a moment to take a deep, fortifying breath, then let it back out slowly, giving Steve a glance out of the side of her eye. "And that I'm bringing you."

"I can thank him for looking for me so long," Steve agreed, and turned to unfold himself out of the car as Peggy did the same. Even though she was in her sixties, she was still sprier than he was; cars had gotten smaller while he was in the ice, somehow.

The door opened before they could knock or ring the bell, and Peggy brightened a little, greeting, "Mr. Jarvis."

"Ms. Carter," Mr. Jarvis answered, voice clipped, and her smile faltered as quickly as it had arrived. He bowed slightly, motioning toward the sitting room on the left. "Mr. Stark will be down to see you presently."

Steve took it as the dismissal it was, wondering at Peggy's reaction. There was so much about her that he didn't know. So much about the world he didn't know. His years in the ocean had done him no favors. He stared at a painting of peaches and tried not to think about how much he'd lost. Then his ears caught the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and he turned, clasping his hands behind his back as he instinctively fell into parade rest.

The man coming down the stairs was not Howard, Steve realized, even though he looked a lot like him. Anthony, he remembered the file saying. Howard's son. Steve hadn't believed Howard would ever settle down, but here was proof, walking casually down the stairs as if they had all the time in the world. To their surprise, he used the post at the bottom of the stairs to swivel directly to face the sitting room they'd been directed toward, walking over like he was meant to be there.

"Tony," Peggy said, and she was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

"Aunt Peggy," Tony answered, voice measured. He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. "Or should I be calling you that?"

Peggy sucked in a sharp breath and closed her eyes, looking vaguely annoyed, then opened them again. "Tony, I'm here to see your father."

"I'm the only Mr. Stark here," Tony told her flatly, scowling. "You'd know that if you ever called. Mom said she wanted to take a trip around the world while they still had their health, and they left three months ago. You'd know that if you read the society papers." He waved his hand dismissively. "And just so you know? I'm not really inclined to help. You didn't make it to a single one of my dissertations even though I invited you. You stopped coming to my birthday parties. You didn't even come to my coming out party," he added, and that last part was where Steve finally heard perhaps the first real emotion Tony had shown since he appeared on the stairs--hurt.

Omega, Steve remembered suddenly, at the mention of a coming out party. Tony didn't carry himself like the typical omega, he thought, tilting his head a little. But then, high society always carried themselves a little differently, he remembered. Howard had never carried himself like any of the alphas Steve had grown up with. It stood to reason that Tony would be much the same.

"Tony," Peggy began gently. "I'm sorry that my falling out with Howard affected you, too. I should have tried harder to stay in touch. But you were a child when that happened."

"And I was just as much of a pain in the ass then," Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes. "If they made a fuss about me talking to you, I would have just screamed the house down. I was good at it," he added with a huff.

Steve figured with the way Peggy winced, he was telling the truth.

"Whatever. I don't want to hash this out. What does SHIELD need from my dad? I'll pass the message on when they call next week," Tony continued before she could say anything else. "Maybe. If I feel like it."

Peggy looked like she was considering pressing him, but whatever she saw in his face, it made her back down. "It's about your mother's gala, Tony."

At that, Tony's gaze sharpened, shoulders straightening as his posture changed from dismissive to alert. "I'm in charge of the the foundation while Mom's on vacation," he said, sharp-edged and stern. "What would Dad have to do with that?"

"Hydra is trying to reestablish a foothold in New York," Steve finally answered, taking a step forward. "They intend to slither in through charities, because they believe it's easier to launder money that way. We believe several members will be trying to infiltrate the Maria Stark Foundation, and the gala will be where they make their move."

Tony swiveled to him, eyes calculating. "And who the fuck is this?"

Peggy glanced at him sharply, silencing Steve from answering. "This is the lead agent on the case, Agent Roger Stevens."

Tony pursed his lips, and the look he gave Steve wasn't entirely disgust, but it wasn't... not entirely disgust, either. Steve found himself sweating a little, and he couldn't quite figure out why.

"I suppose if I tell you that I'll take care of it, you'll poke your nose in anyway. Omega can't handle it," Tony said, lifting his chin at him aggressively.

Oh, Steve thought, wondering if this was how Bucky felt when Steve had raised his chin at him and asked, 'You wanna fight, too?' Tony thought that Steve believed he was incapable. "I'm sure you can handle it," he answered carefully when Peggy simply raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat when Tony rocked back on his heels, clearly skeptical. "I just wonder. How you're going to arrest anyone. You need... authority from a governing body to do that."

Tony stared at him, unimpressed. Steve let the moment hang there, waiting. Adding anything else would be too risky, too likely to offend him. Steve had, unfortunately, not gotten any better at interacting with omegas. The only tried and true way to stay on their good sides, he'd found, was to shut the fuck up.

"So citizen's arrest doesn't count?" Tony finally asked.

"You have to hand the person you arrested over to a judge or police officer. I can detain them at SHIELD," Steve answered, and he thought he sounded pretty reasonable.

Tony scoffed. "Why? What can you do that the police can't?"

"Waterboard them, obviously," Steve deadpanned, then winced when Peggy's elbow rammed into his kidney.

"We do not waterboard our prisoners. We are not the CIA," Peggy told Tony sternly.

Tony's mouth dropped open into a surprised little 'o.' Then he threw his head back and laughed, loud, and Steve saw Peggy's shoulders relax, just a little. Maybe this would work out, Steve thought, allowing himself a small smile.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my sister that I didn't find her instagram post funny and that I didn't want her to send me things like that again?

I (32f) have never had a good relationship with my sister (34f). We have gotten somewhat better over time, but we have always had a strained relationship. We are about as opposite as you can be. Social rights issues? No compromise. ACAB? Constant disagreements. Politics: best never mention them. TV Shows? No interest at all. Music? We cannot stand each other's music. We genuinely have nothing except our blood and the fact we were raised by the same people in common.

I am currently in the process of finishing my PhD and live on a different continent to her. We have been vaguely trying to talk and maintain a cordial friendship from afar.

For the past four months I had been preparing for a conference that I was organizing, leading, and moderating. It was a massive project that will be a huge part of my dissertation research, and it went very well. The day after the conference I had a long career planning discussion with some academic advisors, and spent about three hours talking in my second language with my own advisor. The combination of everything left me genuinely exhausted to the point that I woke up the day after it all still too tired to move.

After I woke up, I realized I had a text from her containing an instagram link - no comment, no notes, no context, just the link. I know I wasn't in a perfect headspace and still needed more sleep, but I clicked it because usually she just spam sends me instagram videos about random baby rearing things she finds funny. I don't find any of them amusing, but tolerate them because she seems to enjoy it. I usually just nod my head or offer a few responses to show I've seen it and move on.

But this video was different. This video was, as far as I can tell, an influencer attempt at selling an AI. It had a young woman walk into a classroom with the onscreen text describing how "my professor is the same age as us and she has her phd!" and when she was asked how she got it, the video shows how the "teacher" went onto Youtube, put Youtube videos into this AI which created an algorithm to summarize the video. It ends with the words "University is a joke in 2024".

I was....genuinely offended. After everything I had been through working on this conference and with years of thesis work, I was just hurt. I watched it a few times, trying to understand what it was even trying to say, and could come up with no good reason for why she would just send it to me. So I wrote back to her "idk how you even want me to respond."

She said she thought it was funny, and I asked her if she understood why I wouldn't find it funny. She wrote back "because you lack my sense of humor smh." I tried explaining why I was upset and reframed it in the context of her job. She doubled down that she thought it was funny, but that it was because she thought it was amusing anyone would think they could get any kind of degree like that.

I explained that AI is genuinely a problem in universities right now and that our students are using it to get through their classes and it's causing a lot of chaos with profs trying to crack down on it. Then I told her it felt like she sent me something just to annoy me.

The argument continued from there. I asked her not to send me stuff like that again, and she asked how she was supposed to know I would be triggered by an AI video, and that I was being oversensitive, and how it was my fault for always assuming that she is plotting to piss me off and that she can never show an interest in my life without me having a "feelings dumpfest" and calling her out for being a bully.

I don't understand how she could think sending a video to me saying "university is a joke in 2024" with no context at all would be taken as a joke in the first place. And I felt like if I didn't tell her I didn't like this kind of video and why it made me upset she would keep sending things like this to me I'd have to keep seeing and ignoring future posts.

AITA for telling her I didn't think it was funny and to stop?

Should I have just ignored it and gone back to sleep? (At this point that's what I felt like I should have done...)

What are these acronyms?

[jezabelle9299]

Dissertation Day S.R x FEM! Reader

Overture- Spencer completed his engineering dissertation, and you got him a vintage car to work on over the summer.

Cws- Kissing

A/N- First of 32 fics for October! I'm very excited. Also I've never gotten my doctorate, so there might be some inaccuracies with that, but we'll just pretend for now. Also the picture is Spencer's car in the show, but this was the only one I could find with him in it? Any way, it's a Volvo Amazon P130, manufactured from 1956 to 1970.

You were so excited, today was the day Spencer was up for his 3rd doctorate. He had to go up in front of a board to present his dissertation, which when he was accepted, he’d receive his final doctorate (for now) in engineering. You got up early this morning to cook him his favorite breakfast, help him rehearse his speech (again), and helped him choose an outfit that made him look as studious as he was adorable. 

He was a nervous wreck, even though he’d done this twice before, it never got easier. You weren’t worried one bit though. Your boyfriend was a genius, and you knew it. The only thing keeping you filled with nervous energy was your gift for him, such an accomplishment needed to be celebrated in a big way, and you were having trouble finding something to fit the theme. 

That was, until a trip to the other side of town last week had you driving past an old Volvo with a for-sale sign in the window. What could be a more perfect gift for an engineering major? The car wasn’t in too rough of shape, you bought it as-is, then took it to a mechanic to get a breakdown of what was needed to fix it, and ordered the parts. You emptied your bank account, but Spencer was worth it. 

You had talked before about needing a car, you could get away with buses and trains right now, but in the fall he was moving to Virginia. He was contacted by an agent after he completed his chemistry PHD, and it was time for him to start. After a long conversation about opportunities for both of you, here and on the east coast, you decided you’d go with him. There were career opportunities there for you as well, and Spencer was the love of your life, you’d never forgive yourself if you walked away. 

It was a few hours after he left when he was finally walking back up the stairs to your small off-campus apartment. The grants and stipends he got from his programs allowed him to not work during school, and you’d completed your bachelors program the first semester of this year, so you were working to pay your share of the rent, no matter how many times Spencer said that he could cover the space for both of you. You wanted him to put his money towards his future, it was bright, and college wasn’t cheap. 

“Hey babe! How'd it go? Did they love your dissertation?” 

“They approved it! I'm officially a doctor in the field of engineering!” He picked you up to spin you around your living room for a second, using all the strength in his body for that short time. You didn’t love him for his muscles, but once in a blue moon he’d do a show of strength like that, and it just made you melt. 

“Oh my god that’s amazing! So Doctor Reid, what would you like to do first, celebration dessert, or your present?”

“You got me a present? Y/N that’s so sweet, you really didn’t need to, I don’t expect you to get me anything when this is like my 5th graduation, and I don’t want you to have to spend your money on me.”

“Well it’s too late now, so do you want dessert or your gift first?” He had a faint blush going from his ears to well past the collar of his button up. 

“Let’s do dessert first, I want to hear about your day.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that, because that is my first surprise of the evening.”  You pulled a cake-shaped dessert out of the fridge, but it was made entirely from Jell-o. You weren’t sure what it was with Spencer and Jell-o, but you knew it was his favorite, so you made the dessert special as soon as he left this morning. 

“Jell-o? Did you make that for me?” 

“Of course, anything for my favorite genius.” You gave him a kiss on the forehead when he sat down, and ate with him while he talked about how his presentation went. When he was done, you cleared the plates and got yourself ready to present his final surprise. 

“Alright Spence, time for your surprise!” You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door.

“It’s not here?” 

“Nope! Just follow me.”

“May I ask where we’re going?”

“No you may not.” You quietly led him all the way down to the parking lot.

“Look straight up so you don’t see.” He walked alongside you, reluctantly following your wishes instead of letting his curiosity get the best of him. You led him around the corner, stopping only to pull the tarp off the car.

“Ok, no peeking but stick your hand out.”

“I’m getting more nervous about this plan by the second.”

“Just do it, alright?” You pulled his hand out for him, and planted a small peck on his neck while he looked up. 

“Ok, 1,2,3…Look!” On the count of three you dropped the keys in his hand. 

“Oh my god, honey you got us a car?”

“Yeah, I figured we’d need one for the trip to Virginia, and what better person to fix it than my newly named doctor in engineering boyfriend. I got all the parts, and I read a few books so I was thinking we could put it together over the summer.”

“You are amazing” He pulled you into a hug, and even though the keys ever so slightly dug into your shoulder blade, you were perfectly comfortable in his arms. When he ever so slightly pulled away to press small kisses to your face, you pulled his hands from your back to hold them. You just wanted confirmation that he liked his gift. You were a little worried you’d overdone it when he got so excited over the jell–o. 

“You like it?”

“I love it. And I love you, and I’m so excited for this.” 

“I love you too. There are a few books in the trunk that’ll help us get started”

“Can we start now?” He got that puppy dog look on his face, that you absolutely couldn’t say no to. 

“Absolutely.”

[omegaprotocol]

The Truth

A few days later Hailey is in her home at the dining room table on her laptop. She is open to a website with job listings for anything robotics related. She gets a text on her phone, opens up the message and sees that she has been rejected for the job. She lets out an aggravated groan. This was the third rejection today and it wasn’t even noon. She had never been rejected from a job before, but now it seems like it’s the norm. After she puts her phone down it begins ringing. She checks the caller ID to see that it’s Jason. She hangs up the phone but Jason calls again almost immediately. Hailey rolls her eyes and answers the phone.

“Hello?” she says in an annoyed tone.

“Yeah. Hello. What’s the deal, you just drop off your stuff at my apartment and bail?”

“I have a ton of important stuff to do right now and I just need you to watch Omega for a little bit. After I get this all sorted out I’ll get her and be out of your hair.”

“No, you can’t do this to me again. You always say that it’s something important. Well you know what, I’m important too and this ain’t fair, not to me, or your sunshine toy.” Hailey places a hand on her temple.

“Please tell me you aren’t saying these things in front of her.”

“What, that’s what you care about? And no I’m not, right now I’m in my car driving.”

“Ok good, I don’t need to explain to Omega that she isn’t a toy.”

“Why does that matter?”

“I have to curate the information she hears, she is a learning AI meant to save the world. I can’t have her data corrupted because I can’t build another one of her, I only get one shot.”

“One shot for what? Why not just tell me what’s happening?”

“If I tell you, will you stop complaining about her being in your apartment?”

“The reasoning had better be great, but sure I will.”

“Ok I’ll meet you at the fareway for coffee and tell you about it.”

Hailey then arrives at the fareway, a golf themed coffee shop with green walls made to look like terf and little flags at every table. Hailey walks in and looks around and finds Jason with a cup of coffee slouched in a booth toward the back of the shop. Hailey walks over, sits down and pulls out her laptop to continue applying for jobs. Jason looks around the laptop with a tired expression.

“Couldn’t even say hi first before ignoring me?”

“I know you want my world to revolve around you right now but at the moment I have to apply for new jobs.”

“New jobs? What happened to your old one?”

“I lost it.”

“Ok, the world is ending. How did you get fired from a job? You're like the most insane work-a-holic I know.”

“You want to know what’s going on or not?” Jason puts his hands up as if to surrender and sits back in his seat. “Ok, so, it started a few months ago, I had gotten the government to pick me for the grant for their ‘International defense program’ or whatever. After I got picked they gave me a document detailing what they wanted. They needed a defense system from… something. It was really vague and didn’t talk about defense from what. It just kept saying ‘the target’ over and over again.

“The target? Like, as in, an alien that is coming to destroy Earth?”

“Right? It was weird and I couldn’t make sense of it. I made a few prototypes of things that might work but they were not impressed. I got another document saying more about ‘the target’ but as I was reading it became clear that the government had no idea who or what was coming to hit us. So, because I can’t solve a problem I can’t even figure out, I decide to build Omega Zero and a few other systems to help her out in defending us from this thing.”

“What!” Jason gets low and whisper-yells to Hailey. “Omega isn’t a nuke right? You did not put a nuclear bomb in my apartment!” Hailey rolls her eyes.

“No, she isn’t a bomb. The government wishes I just built a bomb, but that doesn’t solve the issue. No matter what I build, the mysterious target could have a potential answer to it, and if they do, the world is doomed. So instead I put my dissertation’s money where its mouth is and built a true AI. An AI that could learn who the target is and defeat them no matter what it is.”

“Woah, that is like, a really big deal.”

“Yes it is. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Anyway the government was not happy that I wouldn’t build them a weapon of mass destruction, so I grabbed Omega and ran. No doubt the government has me on a watch list, and on top of that I for some reason can’t get hired right now. All the jobs I apply to reject me.”

There is a pause as Jason looks down at his coffee and Hailey continues to type. Jason realizes he may have overreacted now knowing how much stress Hailey is under.

“Hey, I’m sorry about the phone call earlier. I didn’t realize what you were going through. Omega can stay at my apartment for as long as you need.” Hailey looks up from her laptop and makes eye contact for a brief moment.

“No problem, I know it was probably hard to not get any information and just have this dropped on you. Especially in the middle of your music career.”

“Yeah well, I’ve mostly just been working at the movie theater these days.”

“Oh, that’s cool too I guess.” Jason and Hailey finish their coffee in silence before returning to their homes.

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Two, Part 5

"Yeah, he got here, like, an hour ago?" That was Amber's only flaw. The word like. Yeah, I get she was young and that seems to be one of those things with every generation, but it always drove me nuts then. It drives me nuts now. Anybody else does that, I'm liable to just walk away. And then people think I'm rude, not knowing walking away is better than letting out my inner asshole. I don't like letting that out. I like it too much. And that scares me.

"Oh cool. This been it since you've been in?" I motioned around the room.

"Pretty much. And they were done eating when I got in. So about a half hour of making whiskey cokes." Amber liked her job. When she got to be what she thought a bartender was. She should've been working at seem theme bar, where the bartenders have stupid games and stupid little dances. Not making the same five drinks for the same five type of people that came here.

The five types? First dates; we're affordable for the type of food we put out. Be fancy without actually being fancy. Show off without destroying any chance to do anything for the rest of your night.

Celebration tables: some kid just aced his dissertation, so the friends and family wanted to celebrate. At least once every couple of weeks we have a table of at least ten people. And a lot of those times, these people don't understand how to make a reservation.

Quick business meetings: even on the edges of Riverwest and the Eastside, there sat the people who wore three-piece suits to work and made deals with five digits at the least. They ate fast, efficient and never left a mess. Or a good tip.

The tourist; this person has no idea how they got here. They wandered in somehow, and just said fuck it. They'll stick with the flow. They'll love the place for the night, and usually their waitress got a pretty bad ass tip from them. Tourists, are honestly the best to work for. I love them. No matter what, they will love the food. They care about nothing but the experience.

And finally, the middle-aged date night; these are depressing to watch. Two people who at one point loved each other and got married. Now they've gotten old, and busy, and life isn't this bright and full of opportunities. The spark died, and they don't want to admit it. So they try every trick in the book. And one of those, and it never worked, was weekly date nights. And every so often, they would show up here.

Those were the main five types. I mean there were other sorts that came in. But those were the five. The table right now, drinking? Business meeting that apparently went very well.

We clacked our shot glasses together and downed them. Amber made a gross face. She never was a fan of whiskey, and I was not a fan of vodka, which was usually her choice. I, on the other hand, enjoyed the smooth shot. Good whiskey is good whiskey.

I hopped off the stool. "I'll talk to you later. I should go see what Skeletor is doing." I said, grabbing my jacket and heading for the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the building.

"See you later," Amber said, going back to marrying bottles and wiping a spotless bar down even more than she needed.

"Skeletor!" I shouted as I came into the kitchen. I was officially and fully in the work part of my personality. The loudness, the living. The things you have to be to be a good manager.

"'Sup!" He shouted back from the line. He was there, a black t-shirt and blue jeans covered with a black apron. An apron that stopped above his knees. We only had one apron that fit him and it had gotten covered by a spilt pot of tomato sauce. Our laundry was done on Thursday nights, so he'd always have it on the weekend. Maybe you don't think of how your kitchen looks, but we do, and we do have the uniform. Burns and cuts lining the forearms. Pen or pencil in the ear. A sauce covered apron covering our clothes,

"How we standing?" I asked, walking into the back office, where the three desks stood. One was mine, the most covered in paper and it looked very messy to the untrained eye. But I knew where everything actually was so don't fucking touch it. Angela's desk was spot less and clean. Not a paper clip out of place. Just like her. We didn't get along all that well. And then Amber's desk. It was covered in little nick-nacks that she'd brought in. Even her laptop had a dorky sticker on it. I threw my jacket on the desk, grabbed an apron and headed back to where Justin was chopping up an onion.

[watermelonsvgar]

July 2026 goals

Have a three bed, two bath home with large master bath, amazing kitchen. Amazing closets. Twice the size of my apartment now (2000 sq ft at least). Got it for a deal 500k and under due to unique circumstances. Pumpkin and Lily are in amazing health. Zak and I have a schedule where we take them on walks regularly (down to the same time every week/day! Wednesdays at 5, Saturdays at 10, Sunday’s at 11, for example…). I take them to the best vet and I always have enough money to secure their absolute comfort and joy in life.

I am finishing my dissertation, it could be finished already, but I have ample funding to do more experiments with for the next year or so. I have a part time job on the side doing something I enjoy very much (something related to my major, carbon capture… etc) that I travel for. They treat me very well when I travel and I am a distinguished member of the company. Zak and I have already gotten married in Mexico. It was brief, amazing, precious, I was very skinny and I had a minimalistic dress (like Becky’s lol). Hannah helped decorate our home and it is perfect, between cozy and posh.

I go to the weekly Sunday Al anon meeting. I don’t mind the drive at all. My car is exceptionally clean. I have very long, healthy blonde hair. Ashley doesn’t do it now - someone else does who always does a special hair mask or something lovely that makes me feel pampered - and they do it for the same price as Ashley. I have all the right cosmetics and skin care that work for me. I get facials four times a month. My nails are so healthy that I don’t even need to get a pedicure/manicure for them to look great!

I’ve invested so much in the foundations that my life may look.. I don’t know… boring (?), but it’s so peaceful. I have healthy friendships. Emma has visited me in the east bay. New friends and old have come into my life and I’ve welcomed them without judgement of any type. Only love and acceptance! And they are inspirational and we go on short vacations together.

[3wrongsmixtape]

Side One, Song Fourteen "If I was Invisible..."

If hearts were unbreakable

I could tell you where I stand

I would be the smartest man

If I was invisible... wait, I already am.

During the summer of 2002, a singing competition television show erupted like wildfire amongst my household, much like yours if you were a teenager around this time. In July 2002, American Idol debuted... and just a few months later, Kelly Clarkson was crowned the first American Idol. Her life has undoubtedly changed because of it.

Well, by now, you know that my dream at this point was for a pair of boobs, a boyfriend, and a recording contact to become an international pop star, headset & pigtails included. I was too young for American Idol, so I lived vicariously through the contestants.

Season two debuted January of 2003. There was not much to do in my little town. Since I was forever grounded and stuck in a walking boot for much of my ninth grade year, television was my escape. And American Idol became my hyperfixation.

I had just been diagnosed with ADHD and little was known about the disorder. Now, there are so many subgroups and terminology used, I often get confused within myself. That is very on brand. One thing neurospicy (if you don't know what that term means, you can google it at any time, just please, earmark this page or remember your place. this story gets really good.) Wait, what was I saying? OH YEAH.

One thing my brain actively does is hyperfixate. I get stuck and cannot focus on ANYTHING ELSE until I figure out exactly how and why something works. I take things apart, set them up so I can figure out their function, and prepare myself to provide a doctorate PHD level dissertation on my newly researched topic at the drop of a hat.

In 2003, whenever the show was mentioned, my ears perked up. I inserted myself into any conversation to talk about which singer sang what on which week and who the guest judges were on that episodes. I made charts to connect contestants in certain states to which songs they picked or could overlap. I tallied how I thought America would vote week to week. If you've gotten to this point and you haven't watched American Idol specifically from the early 2000s, let me explain it. You might be confused and, well, I consider myself some what of an expert. I may not be an expert of thing that make a LOT of money but I can tell you about American Pop Culture and television.

American Idol was a American singing competition series created by Simon Fuller. He created the original version of the show, Pop Idol, based in the UK. Believe it or not, this singing competition show produced many of the best musicians and artists and was a smash hit. They went to five or six cities to audition HUNDREDS of people to give out the golden ticket to Hollywood. (I assumed it was Hollywood as I had never been... but it really was Hollywood adjacent.) During Hollywood week, the judges, Simon Cowell, Paula Abdul, and Randy Jackson, would put the singers through series of tests to narrow down the hundred or so competitors to a top 24. There, the semi finals starts... and live television. America was encouraged to vote using their cellphones to TEXT or call the toll free number on which singer they wanted to continue into the next round.

Texting was expensive... and I didn't have my own cellphone. The toll free lines were constantly busy... but we would try for HOURS to get our votes in. The next day, the show's producers would tally up America's votes... and eliminate the person with the least amount of votes.

It never occurred to me these shows could be produced or that they weren't actually tallying up their votes. I believed EVERY week... whether or not America and I thought the same. American Idol never showed the exact number. They never showed their work. They never released their tallying numbers. We just blindly believed the results echoed by Ryan Seacrest. He was the vote for America, and we believed his charming smile.

Some weeks, America just got it wrong.

On February 12, 2003 (detailed notes, people!!) Clay Aiken, a tall skinny red haired GEEK from North Carolina, whom I knew there was something magical about him from his audition, was eliminated from the semi-finals. I was CRUSHED. He had the star power, the voice, not the looks, but he could sing the phone book and steal my purse. I was devastated... until they revealed he was going to be given a second chance at the wild card. And three weeks later on March 5, 2003 (!!!), Clay Aiken sung a cover of Elton John's "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" and was safe into the top 12.

Week after week, I watched the Tuesday, voted up until midnight by redialing the toll free number, and suffered with anxiety all through Wednesday waiting for the results that night. I imagine I was insufferable. As someone who processes things by speaking, I know I only talked about American Idol... and Clay Aiken. I printed pictures of Clay Aiken from Google to tape to the inside of my locker. I would memorize the songs song week after week, further researching each composer or guest judge's song catalog. Gladys Knight was the guest judge and mentor for the contestants one week. That week, each contestant sand her music... so all I downloaded from Limewire were versions of the contestants covers or that week's guest judge's original music. These days, I can't remember if I've taken my medication or where I put my car keys but I can name five Gladys Knight songs or why Lamont Dozier was pivotal for music as we know it today. (He's the father of Motown... every Motown song you know, that's Lamont Dozier.) Well, Clay Aiken mat it to the finals along side Rueben Studdard, America's Velvet Teddybear. Everyone at school would pass me by my lockers and heckle me about Clay Aiken. "He looks like a nerd. No way he will get votes." "He's ugly. He'll never make it." "Ew, doesn't he look weird and creepy? Why do you have a creepy guy in your locker?"

"He's clearly gay." I wasn't unfamiliar with bullying. I was an awkward kid in a private school full of blonde beautiful rich kids. Both of my parents had jobs, my mom having multiple jobs, while my peers all came from money. Any ounce of difference was almost immediately exposed. It's a ritual. If you're like me, you took your bullying and became funny instead. If I got to the punchline first, they couldn't use my difference as ammunition. This would unfortunately be a running theme into my adult years... but we will save that for later.

I know now that the bullying isn't something I should be been resilient towards. I shouldn't have had to use sarcasm as a weapon to dodge the cruel nature of asshole kids. I was never taught how to stand up for myself.

On May 21st, the American Idol finale was to air. For weeks, I had been focused on nothing else but this singing competition show. I felt like the contestants were my friends. I posted one last picture, this time on the outside of my locker. I said a prayer for Clay Aiken. And if God loved me, he would let Clay Aiken win so I would stop the bullying at least until the end of the 9th grade.

Well, May 22nd... and I was living in a world where Clay Aiken lost to Rueben Studdard... by a mere 124,000 votes.

I walked into school to giggles and whispers behind my back. No one spoke to me... that was until I got to my locker.

My once decorated locker with ballons, ribbon, tape, and hand written lyrics... was vandalized. I walked into first period and everyone sitting down laughed as I walked in to class.

Mrs. P rallied the class quiet and we went through that day's assignments. I got sent to the office because my vandalized locker was clearly my fault. Someone had taken sharpie and drew devil horns on my Clay Aiken picture I printed from the computer lab. The Devil Clay Aiken had a quote bubble that said, "I'm a F A G" The sharpie had bled through the cheap printer paper and onto the locker itself. I was told to clean out of my locker instead of going to class. I was advised to not have a locker for the rest of the school year. I was being punished for being passionate about a singer.

If hearts were unbreakable

I could tell you where I stand

I would be the smartest man

If I was invisible... wait, I already am.

The rest of that school year was a blur... and somehow everyone remembered that I loved Clay Aiken so passionately that year but never recalled the obvious bullying I faced for being passionate about something I liked. To my developing brain, I was being told that my passions aren't worth being expressed as I could risk being mocked.

The only person who supported my passion and adoration for Clay Aiken was my mother. She took me to the American Idols concert that summer where I saw him for the first time. We won tickets to his tour the following year along with American Idol Alum Kelly Clarkson. It's where we went backstage... and I completely embarrassed myself. I couldn't SPEAK at all in front of him.

And that's just how i felt... I felt truly invisible.

And honestly, being invisible felt like a waste of a life, if you ask me.

[aquata-the-champ]

The Next Chapter | Self Para

Date: June 2023 Warnings: None

Aquata follows up on an opportunity she was pretty sure she had in the bag.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be better than the feeling of walking out of Swynlake Secondary for the last time. Finally getting out from under Prickly’s thumb. No more stupid staff development days. No more punishments in the form of after-school activities she did not want to run. The recommendation was sent, the dissertation was submitted, Aquata’s desk was cleaned out. When the head coach suggested Aquata consider returning full-time, Aquata wanted to laugh in her face. No way. She was getting out of here.

Especially because she was pretty sure she had a job lined up. Her former assistant coach from her Pride U days had just gotten promoted, and now there was a vacancy on the swim team staff. Surely the reason she’d mentioned that fact to Aquata was a sign she was going to recommend her, right? Why else would she have brought it up?

So Aquata walked into Becca’s office feeling pretty good about this. “Hey!” she said, looking around. “Wow. This is crazy. This is all yours now?”

“Right? I can’t really believe it either,” Becca admitted. “You want to have a seat? Want anything to drink? I’ve got a fancy new water cooler now.”

“Very fancy,” Aquata agreed, letting herself actually start to get excited about this thing she had imagined for a long time. Finally working on the Pride U coaching staff. And now she’d get to do it alongside Becca, whom she’d always looked up to. 

Becca was grinning, her eyes wide. Aquata couldn’t help but smile too. “So what’s new with you?” 

“Oh, y’know. Got my degree. Got out of Swynlake Secondary. Got the summer off before I start my dream job.”

“Dream job?” Becca’s eyebrows shot upward, like she had no idea what Aquata was talking about. Okay, weird...

“Well, yeah,” Aquata replied, like it was obvious. She gestured vaguely around. “You’re hiring the assistant coach, right?”

Becca’s expression faltered.

“Yes. Er, about that...”

“Wait, what?” Aquata laughed, but there was an edge to her tone. She wanted to believe that Becca . “We always said, once you became head coach, I’d be your assistant. We’re the dream team.”

“Aquata...”

“What?” Aquata demanded. She hated that look on Becca’s face, like she was trying to soothe a tantrum-throwing child. Like this was such a ridiculous thing to expect. Becca had been dropping hints all spring, hadn’t she? Ever since she’d found out she was taking over this job? Why was she suddenly being cagey?

“We’ve already filled the position. I’m sorry.”

“With who?!” Aquata blurted out.

Becca sighed. “Jess. Look, I’m sorry, Aquata. It’s out of my hands. And Jess has got a really good record, she was an alternate on the national team. It looks good for the program.”

“She was an alternate. And I’ve got a bloody master’s degree,” Aquata argued.

“Aquata, I had a feeling you were going to react this way,” Becca said wearily, rubbing at her temples. “It’s why I wasn’t going to lead with it. But there are a lot of opportunities in the athletic department. And I’m sorry, but if you want them, you’re going to have to do something about your attitude...”

“My attitude?!” Aquata snapped. “Is that what this is really about? My personality?”

As soon as she said it, she realized... well, it actually probably was. At least partially. And could she really blame Becca for that? Her face burned with shame.

“I... sorry. Forget it,” Aquata grumbled, standing up. “It’s a really nice office.”

“Aquata—”

“Congratulations. And tell Becca I said so, too.”

Once she left the office, it occurred to Aquata that, if she had just put her hurt feelings and indignation aside for a moment, she probably could have gotten some solid career advice from Becca. Considering her only option at this point seemed to be begging Herc to let her work at the gym full-time. But she was too embarrassed to turn around and go back into Becca’s office. And she had a feeling Becca was done with her anyway.

She sighed and went home. She had a shift to get ready for later, anyway.

[winchesterandpie]

Try Again

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader

Word Count: 2534

Warnings: sooo self indulgent, for which I will not apologize. A little bit of angst, but a happy ending. Bradley is perhaps overly forgiving, but we'll allow it.

A/N: I'm not entirely sure where this came from. As a quick summary, you were in your grad school program and the danger of Bradley's job was just too much on top of everything else. Then you see him again a few years after finishing your program when he gets called back to Top Gun. Actually, it's probably my own nerves about my grad school that drove this, but it's fine.

Anyways, my first week of being a PhD student has gone well!! I've been super busy, so I'm trying to write around everything going on. I'm definitely slowing down from this summer (not from a lack of ideas) and I feel a little bad. I'll do what I can to write some more this weekend. Hope you guys are doing well!! Thank you for all the love on my fics--you guys are what keep me posting! You all allow my self-indulgence in fics, and I really appreciate it!

You were sitting at the bar when you heard the piano start. Even before you looked at the pianist, you had a guess who it would be so you took a sip of your drink. Looking just confirmed your suspicions. 

Seeing Bradley Bradshaw again knocked the breath out of you. It reminded you of the last time you had seen him.

“Bradley, I… I can’t do this right now.” You hated having to say this to him, especially when he’d just gotten home from an assignment.

“Can’t do what?” Despite his confusion, he was still grinning at you as you walked down the beach. When he saw how serious you looked, however, the smile faded. “Honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen with your experiment?”

You were a little taken aback that he was so on top of your dissertation work even though he had so much going on in his own assignment. “Not exactly… Which is part of the problem.”

“What can I do?” He turned to you immediately, his hands squeezing your upper arms reassuringly.

“That’s the other part of the problem.” You dropped his gaze, unable to handle the concern in his eyes. “I messed up. There was a part of the procedure last week and I was distracted. I didn’t do it right, so now we have to start over.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was distracted because of you. You know my anxiety has been really bad lately and…” you hesitated, fiddling with your fingers, “and it’s not your fault at all, and you’ve been amazing, I just… I can’t. It’s not fair to you if I keep holding on.”

He said your name and the hurt in his voice broke your heart. “We can get through this. Please just let me try.”

“I want to, baby, I just keep getting too worried when you’re gone and I can’t be distracted with my comps exams coming up and then the pressure only goes up from there with my research.” You looked up at him then, hating how his eyes glistened with unshed tears. Worse still was the understanding that was there too. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Bradley tugged you into a hug then. You couldn’t stop apologizing, even as his arms wrapped around you. His cheek rested on the top of your head, and you tried not to cry. “I know, honey, I know. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, Bradley.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” he assured you, giving you a tight squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And then he had let you go. Bradley kissed your forehead one last time and he let you go. You had never done anything so hard as walking away from him when every fiber of your being begged you to turn back. But you couldn’t.

The pain of walking away from the only person you had ever loved hadn’t really gone away, even now. Seeing him just brought it all back.

You may have broken things off to avoid distraction, but still it lingered the whole time. Quietly, you regretted not sticking it out with him. Now, though, you had no right to Bradley or his feelings, so you finished your drink and asked Penny to settle your tab.

Maybe a small, rebellious part of you that wanted to see him again made you walk slowly, kicking at the sand. If that was the case, it won. You were maybe halfway to your car when you heard familiar footsteps.

“Hey.” The call was quiet, but you could have picked that voice out of the noisiest crowd.

“Hi,” you replied as you stopped and turned to him.

“It’s good to see you again,” he offered.

“You too.” You meant it, however painful. “You look good, Bradley.” He did. If anything, he’d only grown more handsome since you had seen him last, but something in his gaze was wrong.

“Thanks.” He smiled softly at you. Unlike the last time you were on the receiving end of one of his smiles, it cracked your heart further. “You finished your program?”

“Yeah, a couple of years ago.”

“That’s awesome, congratulations!” You saw the way he had to stop himself from reaching for you as his grin flashed brighter but dismissed it as wishful thinking. 

“Thanks.” You grinned in return before silence lapsed between the two of you. You weren’t used to silence with Bradley being so awkward, so you tried to keep the conversation alive. “So what brings you to North Island?”

“They’ve called me and a handful of others back to Top Gun. They haven’t told us much of anything.”

That didn’t sound good. You reminded yourself that you had no right to worry about him anymore and said instead, “Well, at least they’re smart enough to see you’re the best of the best.”

He chuckled as you huffed a laugh. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as claiming to be the best.”

“Come on, you’ve always been good at what you do. They’d better recognize how lucky they are to have you,” you told him. There was too much truth in the words, not just about his newest assignment, and you knew it. You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying more, biting back the urge to apologize. Instead, you forced yourself to breathe. “So how long are you in town for?”

“One of the details they haven’t told us,” he said, watching you in a way that suggested he knew what was behind your words.

“Price of the Navy, huh?”

“Something like that.” He turned to walk further down the beach and you followed. “So how have you been?” 

You could tell he was probing gently, but you allowed it. “I’ve been okay.” I’ve missed you. “I took a job over here not long ago and it’s been busy.” I’ve been trying to keep my mind off you. “I think I’m getting my feet under me, though.” Means more time I can’t help but think of you.

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.” You wondered if he heard what you couldn’t say. You wondered how he might reply.

“How about you?”

Bradley didn’t answer right away, letting the sound of the waves fill the space between you. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“About what?” you prompted when he didn’t continue.

“About us.”

You turned to look at him only to find him already looking at you. You tried desperately to quell the flutter of hope in your heart. It was, after all, entirely possible that he was thinking about it because he was angry. The insistent voice in your head whispered that Bradley being angry at you was inconsistent with everything you knew about him and how you split. It whispered that maybe, just maybe, he still loved you like you still loved him.

You opened your mouth to speak but no sound escaped you. The part of you that didn’t want to allow the hope quieted the sound. You bit the inside of your cheek again.

“Is this okay?” he asked, reaching toward your face. 

When you nodded, he cupped your cheek carefully. Without even realizing it, your jaw unclenched, relaxing into the touch that had always meant safety.

“How are you really?” he repeated his question from earlier.

You answered honestly this time, still afraid that you were reading everything wrong, but you trusted him to catch you. “I’ve missed you. Never quite stopped thinking about you.”

“Me neither.” He did catch you. As he always had. “Can we do this? Try again?”

“You mean can I do this?” you asked wryly, shaking your head at yourself.

“Well, sort of,” he huffed a laugh that you joined good-naturedly. “I didn’t want to put it quite like that.”

“It’s a fair question.” You were the one to start walking this time. “I’ve got the anxiety under a lot better control now, so I think so. I mean, I know I’d still worry when you have to leave, but more at a normal level.” Then you hesitated, wondering if you were assuming too much, moving too fast. “Sorry, I… Do you want to try this again?”

“I--”

“Because I would totally understand if you didn’t,” you interrupted without meaning to, nervous about how he might respond. “It wasn’t cool of me to end things the way I did or when I did and--”

“Honey, slow down.” Bradley reached for your hand, pulling you to a stop.

“Right, sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“Right, s--” You stopped yourself this time, grinning ruefully at the sand. “Right. Please continue. If you want to.”

“Thank you,” he said, nudging your chin up with his free hand before he continued. “I do want to try again.”

“Even though I gave up on us?” 

“You did what you needed to do. I’ve always understood that.” Bradley’s eyes were so soft it was painful. You didn’t feel you deserved his understanding, let alone his forgiveness.

“That doesn’t make what I did right. I wish…” you paused, yet again wondering if you were unloading too much onto him. Something in his eyes told you to trust him again, so you forced the words past the lump in your throat. “I wish I had stayed. I should have turned back.”

His thumb brushed across the back of your hand. “I’m going to repeat myself for a second here. You did what you needed to do. You did right by what you needed to get through grad school. It’s okay.” 

You leaned your forehead against his shoulder and his free arm curled around you. With his lips pressed into your hair, he murmured the next words as a secret just for you. “You did turn back, you know. Maybe in a little roundabout way, but you came back all the same.”

That was what made you cry at last. At the first shake of your breath, Bradley pulled you fully into his arms. You grieved then. Grieved the life you might have had if you’d stayed. Grieved everything that might have been, everything you might have built with Bradley Bradshaw. And at the same time, you were so grateful that somehow the two of you had found your way back together. Relieved he didn’t hate you. Hopeful for everything you might still build together.

He was crying too--you saw the tears running down his face when you pulled back to look at him. Softly, hesitantly, you reached a hand up to his cheek. You brushed away the tears delicately, offering a small smile. Bradley smiled back, covering your hand with his own.

“I am so sorry for everything I put you through, Bradley. And if you let me, I want to make it up to you.”

“I don’t need you to make anything up to me.” He shook his head, just a little.

“I really, really love you.” You couldn’t help but tilt your forehead to his.

Bradley beamed, the sight warming you from the inside out. “I really love you too.”

“So are we going to try this? Us?” Hope seeped into your tone and you knew he heard it by the light in his eyes.

“We’re gonna give us another chance,” he affirmed.

“I’m not going to let go again, I promise.”

He kissed you fiercely, barely a moment after you finished your thought. Just as well. The moment his lips touched yours, you couldn’t think of anything but him. His hands weren’t even on your skin and they still ignited a fire along the path they traced. You reveled in the feel of his hair between your fingers, pulling a deep groan from his throat that you swallowed gladly. 

You had missed this, missed him. Now, faced with the opportunity to learn him all over again, you took to the task like a duck to water. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, then your collarbone, where he sucked a mark. He was re-memorizing you too, though he clearly hadn’t forgotten how to make you melt.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him back to look at you. He grinned lazily at you, then kissed you again. His mustache tickled your upper lip and made you giggle. This kiss was far too short for your liking, but the way he looked at you made up for it a hundredfold. Besides, you had all the time in the world now.

So for now, you let him pull back and take your hand as the two of you started walking down the beach again. You reached your car too soon, but Bradley only let go of your hand to pin you gently to the side of your car. He smiled softly when you tilted your chin to offer your lips to him, leaning in to kiss you one more time.

“Do you still have my number?” you asked when you broke apart.

“Of course I do,” he assured, reaching for his phone to show you how you were still saved in his contacts. “I do, however, need a new lock screen photo.”

You laughed and the last knot in your chest came undone. “I might have some time tomorrow. I could do with a new picture too.”

His eyes crinkled up at the corners and you wanted to run your fingers over them. You resisted, only for today. There was plenty of time to relearn the feel of his expressions.

“We’ll put it on the books, honey.”

You knew you needed to go, but you didn’t want to leave--not now. He seemed equally hesitant, but he was stronger than you. Reluctantly, he opened your car door, helping you into the seat. You blindly fumbled to turn your car on, unwilling to turn your gaze away from him. He closed the door and leaned against it as you rolled the window down. 

“Text me when you’re home safe?” 

“Always, baby. As long as you do too.”

Bradley tilted your face toward him so he could press a lingering kiss to your forehead. You let your eyes drift closed as you basked in the comfort of his presence.

“Ok, if I don’t let you go now, I won’t be able to.” He murmured the words into your skin.

You hummed in acknowledgment, then in complaint as he retreated. “I don’t want to go either.” You felt the huff of his breath fan across your skin as he laughed lightly.

“I need to get to bed. Training starts early tomorrow.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Both.”

With a sigh, you leaned back into your seat. “Alright, you’re right. I’ll see you soon.”

“You can count on it, sweetheart. We’re going to do something tomorrow night,” he promised as he stepped back from your car.

You backed out of the parking spot, then hesitated, looking at him. Before you could think better of it, you gave him a thumbs up and a salute. He laughed at the imitation, offering a small wave as you finally started driving.

That night was the first time in a long time that you had fallen asleep with a real smile on your lips.

[can-youimagine]

Cooking Class (Aaron Hotchner x Reader)

Summary:  Sean comes over and sees how great family can be

Word Count: 543

TW: Family fluff, they/them pronouns for reader

Part of my Snippets of a Man in Love series!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Sean asks as soon as he comes through the door.

Aaron sighs. “Probably at the library. They’ve been editing their dissertation all month, but at least it’s finally written.” Aaron wishes you wouldn’t stress yourself so much, but he knows if he tells you that, you’ll call him a hypocrite.

The idea of having to write an entire dissertation scares Sean more than anything, and he says a quick prayer for your sanity. “When do they usually get back?”

“Anytime between now and midnight, though, I’m sure since you’re here, they’ll try to make it back by dinner.”

Sean nods and sets his bag next to the couch before walking into the kitchen. Aaron stifles a laugh at his college-aged brother truly living up to the stereotype but stops when he notices what Sean grabs. He pulls out the chicken breasts you had planned to cook tonight. He digs through the pantry, mumbling to himself as he tries to find something.

“What’re you doing?” he finally asks.

“They shouldn’t have to make dinner,” Sean answers before adding, “and I know you’re useless in the kitchen.”

“I can cook.”

“What was the last thing you made for (Y/N)?”

Aaron shrinks, knowing that the last meal he intended to make for you was an omelet, and the last meal he actually made for you was scrambled eggs. Well, egg. He had burned the first attempt, dropped one on the floor, and got shell in the third.

Sean smirks before getting back to work. “Could you turn the stove on for me?”

You come home to see the Hotchner brothers moving around the kitchen. Sean looks more at home than your own husband. It’s rather comical to see Aaron, still in his suit, taking orders from his younger brother. As much as you want to stand there and watch them, you clear your throat, letting them know you’re here. 

Aaron quickly turns around. “Hey,” he greets. He wants to go over to hug you, but his hands are covered in egg. “How was your day?”

You press a quick kiss to his cheek, telling him that your day is significantly better now, before turning to Sean. “This smells amazing.”

He blushes at the compliment, keeping his gaze focused on the pan in front of him. “Thanks.”

“I’m impressed that you’ve been able to cook in that apartment.”

“I actually took a cooking class this semester,” he explains.

“With what time?” your husband interjects. You notice Sean’s immediate panic, and swat at Aaron. “Some people actually have fun in college,” you state.

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Next you’re going to tell me people don’t study on Friday nights,” he jokes.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you comment.

Sean shrugs. “Aaron said the same thing.”

You laugh. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Sean shakes his head, telling you that dinner is almost ready. He can’t stop the pang of jealousy he feels as you ruffle Aaron’s hair one last time before leaving the kitchen. He watches Aaron laugh and lean into your touch. You’ve always been the older sister he never had, and he prays to whoever’s listening that he can find someone that makes him as happy as you make his brother.

[babyboiboyega]

Take a break (Matt Murdock x reader)

Matt Murdock x GN!reader

Prompt: “I knew you wouldn’t go to sleep willingly, so I got you some chamomile tea and a blanket. Twenty minutes of shut-eye, okay?”

Babyboiboyega’s Marvel Masterlist

Babyboiboyega’s Masterlist of Masterlists

beta’d by @cloverrover​

When the front door opened and closed softly, you expected to see a limping and bruised Matt making his way through the living room. Instead of the sounds of his low moaning, you heard the sounds of plastic bags rustling. The difference from what you now considered an unfortunate tradition was enough to make you quickly stand, your books and late-night snack completely forgotten.

“Matt?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s me.” 

Your moves had been rushed at hearing him enter, though you slowly came to a stop as he walked into the front room. Instead of the familiar red and black suit that usually adorned his body at this time of night, he had on a rather casual outfit, especially for him. His typical suit and tie weren’t on; in their place was a v-neck shirt, sweatpants, and a zip-up jacket. 

It made the entire thing a little more confusing for you. Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes glanced at the bags in his hand.

“What’s in the bag?” 

Instead of answering straight away, he simply smiled and started making his way towards you. Your eyes roamed over his entire figure on instinct, trying to differentiate between his old cuts and bruises and any potential new ones.

One thing that was both beneficial and not was Matt’s ability to know how you felt, sometimes before you did. His tendency to catch even the slightest change in your heartbeat allowed for easier communication, because even when you didn’t want to discuss something, he knew when you needed to discuss something.

His free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close in order to press his forehead against yours. Your eyes closed on your own, relishing the feeling of him against you.

“First, I’m fine. I can hear your heart, and I promise I’m not hurt. I wasn’t…doing my second job.” 

He leaned forward, nudging your nose with his in extra reassurance before pulling back slightly. He wouldn’t voice how he heard your heart skip at the contact, but his smile did pull wider.

“Second, I knew you wouldn’t go to sleep willingly, so I got you some chamomile tea and a blanket. Twenty minutes of shut-eye, okay?”

The earlier feelings of anxiety left your body and were replaced with stubbornness as you shook your head. A soft laugh left your mouth.

“Matt, you know I can’t do that. My dissertation still needs some last-minute editing, my consultant is expecting a final draft by the end of the week, and I have to present it next month.” 

You went to pull away because as much as you enjoyed the feeling of Matt’s body against yours, the stress caused by your Computer Science dissertation dictated your decision-making. It had been that way for a few months, but it had only gotten more intense lately. 

You knew Matt had noticed; that much was evident in the way he constantly encouraged you to rest or to take some time off. And sometimes you did, albeit, most of the time it was to please him. 

Admittedly, it had gotten pretty bad, the whole “no sleep” thing you had going on. It had gotten to the point where you couldn’t ignore it anymore, especially after the time you had missed your subway after being too fatigued to notice it until it was already pulling away. You had gotten home 2 hours later that night, shuffling into the apartment to see a panicked and suited-up Matt getting ready to step out of his window.  That time, he had urged you to get sleep, not letting you leave his embrace unless it was to relieve yourself. 

But there were still times where the work in front of you had gained all of your attention, causing you to miss how late it was getting. Your desire to finish something once you’d started didn’t exactly help your lack of sleep either. 

Knowing you almost as well as you knew yourself, probably just as well, Matt could recognize when it was going to happen. If you two weren’t together during the day, he’d remember to send you text messages throughout the day to remind you to take breaks.

“Y/N, it’s Monday. You worked on it all day Saturday and yesterday, and I’m willing to bet you worked on it all day today.” 

He continued when you remained silent, his hand gently squeezing your hip.

“You need to take a break. Just…lay down. Let me make you some tea, meet you in bed, and then you can tell me how good my tea is before getting some rest, okay?”

A laugh tumbled from your mouth and he momentarily wished you could hear how his own heart spiked at the sound. Put simply, it was the sound of his home. Wherever your laugh was, he found himself praying he was always at the receiving end of it. 

“We’ll see about that tea. Still don’t think you can make a better cup than me.” 

Your teasing words were followed by you leaning forward, planting a kiss against the corner of his mouth before pulling away. This time he let you, knowing that he had convinced you to rest, this time. 

“Well…considering that your tea always makes it easier to go to sleep after a night out, I’m a little inclined to agree. But only a little.”

He listened as you cleared your workspace, setting your books and computer on the coffee table before walking back over to him. 

Matt sat the bags down next to his feet before reaching into the larger of the two and pulling out a rather soft, beige blanket. He waited until you drew closer before gently wrapping it around your shoulders and pulling you closer.

“I was serious. Let me take care of you tonight. That’s all I ask.”

With a content sigh and a nod, both of which he could hear and sense, he leaned forward and captured your lips.

Despite your hands being on his chest, trapped between both of your bodies, you grabbed at his shirt, wanting him impossibly closer. A hum reverberated in your throat as he angled his head differently, causing the kiss to deepen.

Before you could make your satisfaction even more known, he pulled back, once again resting his forehead against yours. You spoke through your slightly heavy breathing.

“You do that again and I promise there won’t be much resting for either of us.”

A hearty laugh escaped his mouth, which then connected with yours in a chaste kiss.

“Tea first, rest second. Then I’ll have to take you up on that promise.”

************

I hope you all liked this! I’ve recently started rewatching DD and came to the quick re-realization that I’m a complete wh*re for Matt Murdock. I currently have another oneshot ready to be written waiting in my google docs. 

Stay Safe, y’all!

[teamwestallen]

If Only

Summary: What If Barry woke up from his coma and iris had fallen asleep while visiting him.

Notes: My first published (main focus) Westallen fanfiction. I have written two others that include westallen but it's not the main focus or main part of the story. I did have another idea before this but I haven't gotten a chance to go back to the draft I have set for it on Wattpad and actually start writing it!

Chapter(s): 1/1

Warning: As usual major fluff. Barry also suddenly wakes up from a coma. Nothing very graphic or bad really just a bunch of fluff and cuteness!

Characters: Barry Allen and Iris West.

Rating: K+

Narrator's POV

For the past nine months Barry had been in a coma. Every second seeing him in this state broke Iris heart. Every second seeing him like this made her miss him with every fiber of her being. She was desperate to have him back. She would do anything to have him back. To hear his laugh again and see his sweet but goofy smile, or hear him geek about some science thing again. Oh how she missed him.

She would visit him at Star Labs as much as she could. She would talk to him sometimes hoping he would hear, before the coma he would always be the one willing to listen to her problems and worries. He of course would wash away the worries and be the one to stop her from making irrational decisions. Barry usually always knew what to say. And Iris was always the one who would stick up for him. She always believed him when he talked about what happened to his mother. She always listened when others didn't. To her, he was cutest need. To him she was the most beautiful girl, he loved her before he knew what true love was. They were made for each other they balanced each other out just ever so perfectly.

The day had been dull, she was working on dissertation she hadn't quite gotten the right touches she wanted just yet, there was just something missing. As of late shes felt like that, that there was something missing in her life. And that something was Barry. After work she headed to Star Labs to see him. It had been a few days since she had last seen him, and felt it had been too long already. So she pulled into the Star Labs parking lot and walked into the Labatory. She talked to him for a few hours, she started felt her eye lids get heavy and she leaned her head on his shoulder and fell Into a deep sleep.

"Iris wake up," Barry rubbed her shoulder softly. Iris immediately woke up with a start.

"Barry?" Iris looked shook, she couldn't believe her eyes."Your awake?" Iris hugged him immediately. Barry winced.

"Right, sorry." Iris said apologetically.

"It's okay Iris, don't worry." Barry replied softly. For a few minutes there was a silence but not the kind of awkward silence as some dreaded, it was a comfortable silence. Barry thought how he should word it but finally just thought he'd go out with it.

"Iris..." Barry started, intertwining their hands together. Iris scrunched together in confusion. Barry always thought she looked cute when she did that. She looking down at Barry and hers intertwined hands. "Wha..." she trailed off with a whisper.

"Iris I remember everything you said to while I was in a coma."

Her face morphed from confusion to shock to horror within seconds. "How...?" She asked, her eyes were wide with confusion, shock, and horror. She didn't want him to find out like this.

"Iris it's okay."

"No it isn't! I didn't want to you to find out like this. This-" Before Iris could become flustered and worried Barry crashed his lips against hers silencing her worries. The kiss was long over due after years of pinning after one another. The kiss was soft and slow but passionate nevertheless. Everything both of them ever wanted. All the worries Iris and Barry had were washed away it was like they had no worries all they had was each other and this blissful moment with one another. Barry moved his hand to her cheek and deepened the kiss. Iris leaned closer to Barry placing her hand on his chest. They stayed in this joyous and blissful moment for a few more seconds and then they both pulled away. They both smiled blissfully at one another. Iris moved to Barry's bed and layed her head on his chest, they snuggled against one another.

"I love you, Barry." Iris said looking up at Barry. Barry smiled goofly at her. He answered by proclaiming "I love you too, Iris." And once again they were both engulfed in loving kiss.

The End