#I hate customer service with a passion

[farfromstrange]

Customer Service | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!reader

Summary: After a particularly rough week, all you want to do is cry. It has you on edge and makes you say things you don’t mean. After letting out your anger on your boyfriend, he makes it his mission to take care of you for a change.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), Matt Murdock eats pussy like a champ, fingering, squirting (I feel filthy), emotional hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, no pronouns, reader has female body parts, 1st person pov (?)

a/n: As someone who quit their job in customer service for the exact same reasons I have stated in this fic, this is very personal to me and self-indulgent, again. I wrote this after a particularly bad day. Sometimes I wish Matt were real so he could actually do this to me.

There is nothing in all of existence that I loathe more than people. Why I chose to work in customer service in the first place has become more and more of a mystery to me. I could have quit after the first week, I should have, but whenever the thought crosses my mind, I tell myself: ‘It’s going to get better. You will get used to it.’ I did not, in fact, get used to it. Or, I did, I just started to hate myself even more. Every day I get home from an eight-hour shift, I’m tired, I’m exhausted and I feel the desperate need to throw myself off a cliff. 

There are days when it’s easier. The elderly couple who comes in every Sunday, for example, to drink their coffee and have a lengthy conversation over a piece of cake, never fails to make me smile. They’re always kind, and forthcoming and they tip, even though I know they don’t have the money to.

Or the woman who likes to pick up lunch for her husband, she always calls me sweetheart, and she’s never bothered if her order takes just a little too long. The regulars chat me up and I like it because it makes me feel less alone behind the counter, as life passes me by and I can’t help to stare at the clock every five minutes to calculate how many hours of the day are left. They make it easier to forget about the overtime I inevitably have to put in every night. They know I don’t eat enough or smile enough or drink enough, and so they make me smile because they’re good people. 

But some continuously want to tell me how to do my job, the one I’ve given blood and sweat for to master down to the smallest detail, and those who treat me like I’m responsible for their bad days and those who don’t care that I’m human, I just have to serve.

It’s so exhausting that some people don’t care about the workers behind the counter. I hate that my boss doesn’t seem to care either, that we don’t get paid enough, and that I’m expected to jump whenever they want me to. I got a life too, but that doesn’t matter because I’m cheap and they love to use those who never learned how to say no.

I physically can’t tell them I can’t work whenever I’m asked to pick up an extra shift, or when I’m sick or have to do anything else. It’s not even my main occupation and yet, here I am! Every day, I tell myself, I should just quit. It’s not my responsibility if they can’t treat their employees right. It’s not my responsibility they’re understaffed. I’m a student, I go to college, and I’m working hard on my degree - why should I prioritize my job over the thing that will determine the rest of my life? 

And yet, every day, I go back. I go back and I work until my feet hurt and I’m sick and I’m tired and all I want to do is just cry. I go back because I, for the life of me, can’t say no. I can’t quit. I want to, but I can’t, and it’s killing me inside that I can’t talk about it the way I want to. In the end, I will always feel like everything is my fault and that I messed up, even though all I did was show up to work and turn into everyone’s punching bag. 

My stupidity is what got me here. Usually, I would be home now, studying, but they asked me to pick up a late shift at the cafè again, and I worked for seven hours with only a fifteen-minute break in between - I look horrible, I smell of coffee and cake, and my body is hurting in all the wrong places. The weight is heavy in my stomach. I’m nauseous. I ate, but not enough. I’m hungry. I feel sick. Even the smallest sounds make me want to jump up the wall, kill someone, or perhaps even both. I’m angry, and I don’t even fucking know why because nothing happened. Other than a rather messy day with too much to do and too few people to do the work, the people weren’t even rude and I’ve had worse days - still, I feel everything at once and it’s ridiculous, really, because I’m an adult and I should know better than to let a rough day affect me. I don’t. 

When he called and asked if I wanted to come over, I said yes. I didn’t want to, but saying no? Not something I would do, especially not to him. I walked into his apartment with a lump already in my stomach. The door creaked - God, I told him to oil it - and that was the first strike. I tossed my key into the bowl and it promptly fell back out. Second strike. My coat slipped from the hanger the second I hung it up. Third strike. I breathed, I had to, then went to the kitchen to make some dinner. Cooking usually works, usually, but the day must have gotten to me because the fourth strike - the fucking milk being expired - happened way too soon and it hit me, hard. After that, I was pretty much done for, and I knew, I just chose to ignore it. 

Of course, I should have known I would screw up everything else, too.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is kind and soft in my ear as he presses a kiss to my cheek. His stubble has never been something to bother me before until that very moment. I flinch away, not sure why. If he realized it - which I’m sure he did - he doesn’t show. 

“Smells good,” he says. 

I put the garlic into the pan. It smells too much like garlic and I hate it. 

“What you making?”

“Pasta,” I tell him. 

He kisses me again. “Mh-hm. How was your day?” the question is stupid, but it’s normal and he always asks. He gets himself a beer - only himself - removes the cap with his mouth and then leans against the counter. 

He shouldn’t infuriate me. He shouldn’t make me angry just by standing there and asking me questions couples ask themselves, but inevitably, he does. And I hate myself all the more for the way my voice sounds when I answer him. 

“Fine,” I say. 

“Fine?” he asks. “How was work?” I feel like he’s getting suspicious. “You only had two lectures today, right? English lit and what was the other one?”

“Linguistics.”

“Ah, yes. Your least favorite.”

Perhaps that’s why I’m angry. 

“You know,” he says and the tangent he goes on after revolves around him and only him, and while I don’t like talking about myself, that doesn’t mean he has to unload all of his stress on me - I don’t know why I think that way and it’s scaring me because I don’t actually feel that way, but at that moment I do and it’s all very confusing.

I just want to lock myself in his bedroom and cry. He looks so good with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. He’s wearing his glasses, still, but his tie is loosened and he smiles because he knows I love that smile. I should love it. I should love the way his muscles tense underneath his shirt or the way his dress pants hang impossibly low on his hips, but for the first time, I don’t. I don’t love anything, I just feel anger, which makes me hate everything, but mostly myself. 

I must have zoned out. Suddenly, he’s calling my name and he’s calling me sweetheart and he’s poking me with his hands - no, he’s stroking my hips, hugging me from behind, and it’s all too much. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lie. He knows I’m lying. He can hear it in my heartbeat. He can feel it in the way I move away from him to rinse the now-empty pan in the sink. 

How is the food already finished?

“You didn’t listen to a word I just said,” he dares to sound offended. 

“No, I did.”

“Really, what did I say?”

“You and Foggy had a case, didn’t go well, bla bla bla. Same as every day.”

He sets the bottle down. “Alright, sweetheart, what’s wrong? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Oh, so just because I don’t care about hearing the same story repeat itself every day and you whining about it means there’s something wrong with me?”

He’s taken aback. Quite frankly, I’ve never snapped at him before, not like this, not out of nowhere, and we’ve been dating for over a year. With his super senses, there is little that eludes the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, especially when it comes to his girlfriend. I hate that it’s like this. I hate not having any privacy, even when I try to. But I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want privacy. Or, I think. I don’t even know what I want. I know I want to be around him, but at the same time, it hurts because the anger is too damn hot to swallow, and his concern doesn’t make it any better. It should be, but it’s not. I’m a lost cause. 

“I was just telling you about my day,” he says. I would yell back at myself if I were him, but he knows me. He knows yelling doesn’t help. He knows I’d cry, but maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I want him to yell just so I have a valid reason to cry, to be angry. 

I want him to hate me the way I hate myself. 

That’s why I can’t help it anymore. “Maybe I don’t want to hear about your day.”

“What?”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Matthew!”

He’s confused. I don’t blame him. The second the words left my mouth, I regret them. They make me sound like the most selfish person on the whole planet. I can’t take them back though. If I did, he’d know something is wrong and then he’d worry, he’d pity me and no, I don’t want that. I want to rile him up. I’m not sure why, but it makes me so angry that he’s so calm and I’m… well, I’m me, but I’m also not me. I’m a stranger in my own body. 

I put the pasta in a bowl. It stinks of alcohol and tomatoes and garlic, too much of it. I wonder how anyone could eat that. 

“Here,” I shove it into his hand, “You’ve been served. I’m gonna take a shower.”

I’m a bad person. I’m pretty sure I am. Who yells at their boyfriend because they can’t deal with their own problems? Who makes the person they love more than life itself feel like shit on purpose for no reason whatsoever? A sane person wouldn’t. We have never been a normal couple, Matthew and I, but we’re trying. Turns out, I suck much more than I thought I would.

It’s not the age gap, I’m sure of it. I’m in my last year as an English Major and he’s a defense attorney. Somehow, we make it work. He loves me, I know he does. He’s afraid of rejection - he thinks everyone he loves will leave him, which is why it took us a while to find together. I should have known my words were going to hurt him unimaginably. He thinks he did something wrong, but it’s not him. It’s never him. He’s damaged, but he’s nothing if not perfect to me, most of the time. 

I’m heavily crying at this point, trying to conceal my sobs, but it’s not working. The water is loud, not loud enough to fool Matt’s hearing, but even if he were to hear it, he knows better than to provoke me any further. He doesn’t know what’s going on and neither do I, so it’s just the two of us silently waiting for the other to come around. He shouldn’t have to feel that way. And so I cry more because God, I do not deserve that man. I don’t deserve his kindness or his love. I don’t. I really, really don’t. 

And once I’m out of the bathroom, I remember why I don’t deserve him. 

The table is set for two. Candles substitute for the harsh ceiling light. He knows it gives me headaches sometimes. He put a bowl out for me and a glass of wine. White wine. The sweet kind. The kind he hates but keeps around in case I ever need a glass. He’s drinking red wine. It’s cheap, but it looks expensive and he likes to feel special from time to time. 

I hug my arms around my body. He has his back turned to me, fixing a salad in the kitchen - I must have forgotten it. The way he moves is almost angelic. He moves as if nothing happened, as if I didn’t just treat him like a bitch. He’s singing my favorite song or humming it, anyway. The room smells of him and me and the food I loathed before, but watching him do all of this for me, even now, is sucking the air out of my lungs and suddenly, I don’t mind the thought of eating with him.

I only want one thing. I don’t want to ask for it and he’s not going to do anything unless I talk. We agreed on that from the beginning, no matter what kind of intimacy it involves. Without consent or a proper conversation, nothing will happen. And I curse myself for not being able to speak without the tears blocking my view again. 

“There’s a sweater on the couch,” he states. He knows I’m cold. “And some fuzzy socks, if you want.”

The clothes smell like him. 

“I put some more salt in the pasta. I think you forgot to salt the water, so I took it upon myself. I hope you don’t mind. Also, I tried to make your favorite salad dressing, but I’m not sure if I managed to get it right this time.”

He smiles and then his glasses are gone and he has an apron on and he looks like he loves me, really loves me, and that’s it. I pull my legs up to my chest, falling deep into the couch and I cry. All the pain just comes exploding out of me like an active volcano. 

The leather dents next to me. “Comfort or solution?” he asks. It’s so casual, I get the feeling he’s not mad at me. 

“I don’t know,” it sounds so broken.

His arm finds around my shoulder. “Is this okay?” I can only nod. Yes.

He moves me gently so I’m in his lap and he can rock me like a baby. It feels good to be loved like this, but it’s also suffocating. Still, I can’t help but fall deeper into his hold because this is, in fact, all I needed. Too stubborn to ask for it, I almost ruined something good. I know I did. He knows, too, but unlike me, he knows the difference between me being mad at him and being mad at the world. He knows I don’t mean what I say unless we’re fighting, and this isn’t it. We’re not fighting. I’m just angry and I want to cry, even while crying, and that makes me cry even more. 

“You want to talk about it?” he asks once I can finally breathe again. 

I blow my nose like a disgusting person and say, “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe.” And that about sums up all of my life. 

“Is it school?”

I shake my head. If it’s not school, it can only be one other thing. 

“Work?”

I nod. 

“Anything happen or just a bad day?”

“Bad day.”

“That’s why you yelled at me? I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No,” I say truthfully for the first time. “I’m just angry. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Maybe next time try telling me though. I was actually scared I did something until I heard you cry in the shower.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I tell him that, to which he only chuckles. 

“You know how many times I acted hostile towards you after a long day?” he says. “It happens. It’s okay.”

“I just… I’m so stressed all the time. I hate work and I hate people and I hate not getting paid enough or on time, but I can’t quit because you know, I’m me and they know that, so they take advantage of my inability to say no, and it sucks because I’m so tired of working more than I go to school, but I need the money, and so I can’t leave until I’ve found another job, but no one else wants me, so now I’m here, trying to see the good in this stupid job, but I don’t. I can’t. I hate it. I hate everything and everyone and I hate myself and I think I’ll get my period soon because this should not be upsetting me this much.”

His hand on my back manages to soothe me. 

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.

He smiles down at me, all loopy, and his sightless eyes are focused somewhere on my forehead, which makes everything so much better. 

“I love you.”

And yes, I love him too. I love him so fucking much, it hurts. 

“I love you too, Matty.”

As soon as I say his name, he knows what I want. He knows I need to destress. He knows I can’t eat until I can forget. 

“Is there something I can do?” he asks, but damn him, he already knows. 

“Can you…” no, I can’t ask him for that.

“Yes?”

“Matt, can…” No. “You know what, never mind.”

“No, sweetheart. Tell me. What do you need?”

“I just…” my chest heaves a frustrated groan. “IneedyoutoeatmeoutuntilIcantremembermyname.”

He enjoys it. He gets off on it, my desperation. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did. Can you repeat that?”

“God.” My face is burning. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just, this is the first time you actually asked me and I love hearing you ask for the things you want. It’s sexy.” 

Somehow, that’s even worse. My thighs clench like I’m some pathetic little schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher. 

“You know, maybe you can ask for a raise tomorrow, or quit altogether,” he says. “But for that to work, you have to tell me what you want right now.”

“I asked you to eat me out until I can’t remember my fucking name!”

“Thank you. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

If there is one thing Matt Murdock is incredibly skilled with, it’s his mouth. And I don’t just mean the words that come out. Essentially, it’s all in his tongue. He’s managed to render me speechless on more than one occasion, and he knows. He knows I love when he touches me, but there are times when it has to be about me, and only me, and he’d gladly suffocate between my thighs. He’s told me that time and time again.

He keeps telling me to ask him if I want something. I never do. I hate asking for it because it’s embarrassing. It’s good that he knows what he’s doing, that bastard because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be cumming and I wouldn’t tell him. Somehow he always gets the job done, no matter how stressed I am. 

That’s why I need it so badly. I need him to take care of me, no matter how long it takes. I know it might take a while because I’m tense and he knows too. He reads my body like an open book. That’s how he knows I’m horny before I even do. 

He doesn’t move for another minute. He just stares at me. “You want me to take care of you?” he asks.

“Please,” I beg. 

“Guess I’ll have dessert before dinner today then.”

He lifts my head and then he’s suddenly on top of me. He’s sliding me up the couch so he can fit in between my legs. I’m dressed in shorts, a t-shirt, and his sweater and for a second I wonder if it’s even worth it. I’m ovulating, I’m bloated. I feel like shit. My hormones are all messed up. I can feel the weight of my boobs tear on my back and I’m pretty sure the hairs on my legs prickle his cheek as he kisses them. It’s making me want to take back everything I asked of him. 

My confidence has taken a low blow this past week. 

Though Matt doesn’t care, he never does. He digs his nose between my thighs and takes the longest whiff I’ve seen him take in a while. To be fair, the last time we saw each other, he was busy with work. We didn’t have time for intimacy, which hardly ever happens. He moans. 

Smug bastard.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me. It melts my heart. The compliment means so much more knowing he can’t physically see me. To him, I’m beautiful. He couldn’t care less about what I looked like. Although sometimes I wonder what picture he has made up of me in his mind. 

His lips are on mine fast. I can’t help but sigh. They’re so soft. He doesn’t rush, he just kisses me and then kisses me some more. I tangle my hands in his hair. I’m sure, this is what heaven must be like.

“Let’s take this off.” His sweater joins my shorts on the floor. “May I?” He hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of my panties. “Or do you want me to keep them on?”

I have no doubt he could do it with five layers in between and still make me cum.

“Off,” I say. I want this. I have to remind myself that my insecurities mean nothing – he loves me. He wants to do this for me. He wants to do this because he likes it, or else he would say it. 

Matt is vocal, but I’m not. If he doesn’t want to do something, he’ll say. Can’t say the same about me, which is why he asks repeatedly, even after I already told him it’s okay. He wants to make sure I’m on board, that I don’t feel pressured and can pull out any time I want, but I don’t, because the second the cold air hits my bare cunt, all I want is him. 

I can feel his eyes searching for me. “Hey,” he says my name. “We’re not playing this time, okay? You can cum when you need to and how many times you want to. You just have to lay back and relax. I’ll take care of you.” 

He intertwines our fingers on either side of my spread thighs before he dives into me. It’s slow and steady. He doesn’t care about fucking me with his tongue like he usually does. He licks and bites, but mostly, his tongue and lips stay around my clit and they suck. They suck so good, I see stars behind my eyes. His touch sends shocks down my spine. My sensitive walls clench around thin air, but his head is so far between my thighs, I still manage to feel full. 

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t focus. It feels so good, way too good, and on any other day, I would’ve come by now. His beard burns into the inside of my thigh as I rock against him. I try to, but it’s exhausting. I can feel the coil in my lower belly clear as day, and yet it’s too far out of reach. I need it, I crave it. 

I can hear myself saying, “This could take a while.” And he laughs because he finds it funny. It’s not funny though, it’s serious. I hate the fact that he makes me feel so good and I can’t find it in myself to enjoy. 

“Close your eyes,” his breath fans hot against my folds. “And just stop thinking.” 

He makes it his mission to ruin me. I close my eyes and as soon as I do, he’s on me. It’s not just his mouth. One of our joined hands reaches up to touch my breast – he twists my nipple through the shirt until it’s hard and has his attention. The other reaches behind me and lifts my hips. The next thing I know, he has me propped up on a pillow. The muscles in my lower back relax. I sigh. It’s so good. 

He’s given up on slow and steady. His head moves in circles as he abuses – I don’t have another word for it – my clit and eats the rest of me like a man starved. I realize I need it fast and I need it hard. He knows it before I do. His tongue expertly parts my wet folds, a mix of arousal and spit trickling down my thighs, but I could care less. He’s inside of me and then his thumb is there and it’s rubbing and rubbing and rubbing and I’m so fucking close, the knot in my stomach feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and it’s applying sweet, sweet pressure on cunt. 

“Fuck!” I throw my head back into the leather. My back arches impossibly high, and his head squished tightly between my thighs. I need him closer. His hair is so soft, it makes me want to cry, and I do. I cry, but not in a sad way. I cry out because yes, God yes! and then I’m cumming, suddenly and without warning, hard, all over his face, and it doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop.

The growl is animalistic. It vibrates perfectly through my pussy and I can’t help it – it barely takes two minutes until his lips start hurting so good as they keep sucking my clit, a series of ‘one more’ leaves his lips in a plea, and I’m rocking against him hard. I’m begging him, “Matt,” but I’m not sure what for. 

“C’mon,” he says, “you can give me one more.”

He’s right. God, I hate when he’s right. My toes curl and I push his face so deep into me, I’m convinced he’s running out of air, but that’s what makes him moan and it sends me over the edge.

I’m pretty sure I passed out. The pleasure is so intense, my stomach feels like it’s being torn apart and then put back together. The world is dark and for the first time today, quiet. 

Something nudges my cheek softly. It’s his hand. Matt kisses me and I can taste myself on his lips. “Hey,” he coaxes me back into lucidity. “There you are. Are you okay?”

I nod.

“You need anything?”

It’s a reflex, reaching for him. He gasps slightly when my hand touches between his thighs, expecting to find a visible bulge, but there is none. I’m not sure if it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but there is a visible wet spot where his dick is supposed to be. 

“Did you-“ I finally open my eyes. He looks so drunk in the candlelight. I realize then that he is drunk on me. 

He buries his head in my neck. “You’re not the only one who’s been worked up all week,” he says. 

“You just- oh, my God.” I never thought it possible that it could be enough for him. “Thank you.” 

“No, thank you. You’re always so good to me. Good girl. But I think-“ his finger steals my breath as it circles my entrance and promptly slips it inside of me. “You can cum for me again.” 

I arch into him. My chest brushes against his. Our shirts suddenly feel like too much clothing and I’m desperate, so I tear at the buttons until they come apart. He has his arm back underneath me, holding me flush against him as if he’s afraid I might slip away. 

A wanton moan escapes me. “That’s it,” and his praise is even better. “Think you can take another one?”

He adds a second finger. It burns but only because even after a year, I’m still struggling to take any part of him. His fingers are thick and they’re rough and they’re scratching my inside walls just right. They massage the flesh. He’s pumping his fingers in and out and in and out, and he adds his thumb back on my clit because he knows I won’t be able to cum without it.

All of the stress falls off my shoulders. I feel him everywhere, his kisses, his touch, his hard nipples against mine. He’s hard again, poking against my thigh. I reach for him and he whines, he whines into my mouth. I’m not sure which one of us will come first. I suppose it’s me, it’s always me. He makes sure it will be me.

He hits as deep as he possibly could. His fingers curl inside of me and then, “There it is!” Is so victorious, it makes my eyes roll back. He keeps hitting that particular spot over and over again. My hand clutches his shoulder. I want to scream, but all that comes out is a series of whined and pathetic moans. I can’t help it, my muscles contract around him. 

“Damn, you’re gonna break my fingers,” he says. His chuckle is breathless. “You close?”

I hum.

“Do me a favor,” and I expect him to tell me anything but what he requests, “Don’t cum.” 

It’s rude. It’s cruel and it’s vile and I want to murder him because just as he says it, the coil tightens impossibly tight and I need to let go. It’s painful to hold it in, especially now. But I do as he tells me nonetheless. I want to please him. 

“Matt,” I moan. He’s so unfair and he knows it.

He smirks. “Just hold on a little longer.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I know you can.”

“St- oh, fuck!” He hits my sweet spot with twice the intensity. I almost cum, but only almost. I keep it together, no matter how much it hurts, and it’s making tears prick at my eyes. “Please, just let me cum,” I hate begging him. “Please, Matty.”

“Shhh. We’re almost there.”

His thumb speeds up. I can see heaven. God is reaching his hand out for me. My stomach is in a tight knot, so tight, the silk might rip any second. The pressure is unreal. My muscles have been trained by him, I admit, but nothing can prepare you for this. Nothing can prepare you for the times when Matt has his mind set on something and he’s going to take it. He’s going to take you. 

I can’t think. It’s too much. I know I’m going to disappoint him. The animal inside of me is beyond satisfied and she wants out. She wants to let go. She loves the feeling of his fingers buried to the hilt inside of her. She loves him, and loving him tends to turn into sweet, sweet torture.

I moan his name again. His cock twitches underneath his dress pants, hot against my fingertips. 

“Almost,” he promises. “I just want to try something.”

What could he possibly want to-

“Cum.”

I’m flying. My back lifts off the couch and if it wasn’t for him, I would be dead by now. My body is shaking. It’s earth-shattering and it’s wet and it’s everywhere. I can feel the orgasm tearing me apart from the inside, blood rushing in my ears. My senses go black. I can’t see, feel or breathe. Everything is too much. It’s burning, it’s heavy, but it’s amazing.

His fingers don’t stop until he has milked the last drop of me until even the last ounce of stress has left my body and I’m limp. I’m a corpse. I’m barely breathing, a wet sack of potatoes in his arms. 

God, the look on his face. He’s cumming too. The wet patch on his pants has doubled. It’s not from me, although I’m suddenly very aware of the fact of what he just made me do.

“Oh.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “That was amazing.”

I never expected to have it in myself. “Oh, Jesus.” My words are highly blasphemous but I don’t care. I’m not even sure how to feel. The blush creeps up my cheeks and I close my legs a little. Everything is so wet. It’s all me and some of him, but mostly me. Just spurts of cum all over his hand and his couch.

He clicks his tongue, shoving my thighs apart. “Don’t go shy on me now,” he says.

“No, it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? Sweetheart, I’ve never felt more proud of myself.”

“I just- your couch. Oh, God.”

“I’m pretty sure the couch will survive it. Leather is easier to clean. How do you feel?”

I sigh, snuggling against his chest. “Better,” I have to admit. “Much, much better.”

“Good.” He kisses my neck. “Can I have my fingers back now?”

“No.” I like the feeling of him inside of me, even if it’s just his fingers. It makes me feel complete, almost. 

“Okay.” 

“Just gonna rest my eyes now.”

“You do that, sweetie. I’ll be here.” 

And he is. He always is. I wake up, and he’s there, and he always will be because he promised me this is forever. Us. Me and him. And I realize then that I’ve never been more in love with another person than I am in love with Matt Murdock.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil smut #smut #fluff #matt murdock angst #hurt/comfort #stress relief #I hate customer service with a passion #I also hate retail #I hate work in general #Matt Murdock rail me challenge

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I called in sick today, and while it was good for my mental health I don't know if it was worth $100 off my next paycheck, and I still have to go in tomorrow, so all I did was kick the can down the road and piss my boss off.

#what I need is passive income #or at least an active job that doesn't make me want to kill myself #i need things to do #i need tasks that fill the time #tasks that don't have to deal with tourists #i hate customer service #with a burning passion

[mushroomrry]

Job hunting literally makes me want to kms

#especially since all of the jobs are basically customer service and i hate customer service with a passion

[sri-rachaa]

First day back to work in 2 weeks!

…I am so screwed :)

#I….don’t like my job #in fact I hate it with a passion #honestly #being bitched at and getting stuff thrown at me for 8 hours #it’s not good for the psyche #like customer service is basically like you having to be as nice as you can be for 8 hours as middle aged adults yells at you for minor #inconviences you have no control over #:3

[dearmura]

daydreamin'

☆ cw. reader uses she/her pronouns + is referred to as girlfriend, a teensy weensy bit of cursing, the reader is hit on by some creep at one point, not proofread

☆ pairings. non-idol! riki × fem! reader

☆ genre. fluff, strangers to lovers

☆ synopsis. summer would've proven to be monotonous, the greatest thrill being the audacity of the ice parlor's customers. that is until a new face walks in, leaving you daydreamin'

☆ a.n. enhypen exists in this au but let's pretend that riki isn't an idol for story purposes

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"one scoop of mint chocolate ice cream, one of cookies and cream, one of rasberry, and one of chocolate in a sugar cone with rainbow sprinkles, chocolate drizzles and Oreos on top. and get it right, it's for my kid" they end with a forced smile, not even bothering to say please or thank you, not that you weren't used to it. sadly, you wish you could say that was the weirdest order you've gotten but, one thing this job has taught you is that kids, and parents alike, are weirdos. nevertheless you make the salty parent's order with a feigned smile and don't bother when they snatch it from your hands, throwing you the cash and not even bothering with the change

one would think that working in an ice cream shop in the hot summer heat would be ideal

if they didn't have the job, that is

but you were in no place to complain. while scooping questionable orders for ipad kids and karen parents all summer wasn't your passion project per se, it did help bring money in, money you desperately needed to afford tickets to enhypen's tour. with your unfortunate luck last year, you couldn't afford to not see them again this year. therefore, you were left to deal with a customer service job you hated where you feigned smile all day, motivated by the motto 'enhypen's worth it'

you wish you could say you at least made a friend in the process, though, your co-workers consisted of retired old folk who were too much of overachievers to at stay home and bask in their retirement money and kids around your age who you can only assume were too popular to be in your league

mentally cursing as the rude woman walked away, you compose yourself before serving the next customer who only makes you double take. a boy around your age with a height no one other than a k-idol could bear. he spoke in a low voice you'd be lying if you said wasn't attractive

"wow, that woman seemed really rude umm...y/n" he eyed your name tag before meeting your gaze, making you furrow your brows and shake your head on instinct

"no no no it's alright, I'm used to it" you reassure him. though, your answer doesn't seem very convincing to him. he frowns

"no, no it's not, no one should be used to that, I'm sorry" he apologizes, albeit, you don't know what for but, nevertheless, you nod

"thank you, babe. I'm sorry, what can I get for you?" you mentally curse at yourself for the term of endearment that slips past your lips. though, he doesn't seem to mind

"it's alright. actually, that woman speaking to you like that rubbed me the wrong way. what would you recommend, y/n?" he asked, looking at you with expectant eyes, which only make you blush

"um, I usually like to order a chocolate and vanilla swirl with rainbow sprinkles" you giggle a little

"it's the best of both worlds I guess, no need to choose a flavor when you have both" you reason, looking up at the boy whose eyes crinkle in joy. a warm laugh comes from the boy that only warms your heart

"valid. I'll take that then, please" he ends with a smile, which you return

"coming right up!" you say too giddily, as you turn around to make his ice cream you mentally curse at yourself for being so excited for no reason. though, you don't stop yourself from swirling the ice cream a little slower than usual to ensure his cone was perfect and a little higher than you're supposed to serve them

smuthering his cone in sprinkles, you hope he actually enjoys it considering you gave him extra of everything, not that he needed to know

"here ya go. that'll be $2.50, sir" you say, carefully handing him the cone, your fingers grazing his. your ignore the quickening of your pulse at the contact

"thank you so much" he hesitates a little before he continues

"and you can call me riki by the way, sir makes me sound way too old" he jokes, handing you a $5 bill as he laughes. nodding, you take the bill, your fingers failing to touch much to your dismay. upon handing him back his two bills and quarters, he doesn't even look before immediately placing them in the tip jar. thanking you again, he turns to leave, beginning to lick a stripe off his ice cream. though, you couldn't quite catch his reaction

as the door closed behind him, you catch your smile lingering a little too long for your liking. clearing your throat, you attempt to compose yourself, eying the clock until the very last minute. wiping down the tables and cleaning the ice cream machine kept you busy until closing. you wish you could say the thought of the sweet boy didn't entertain you through those last few hours but you'd be lying. in the back of your mind, you secretly hoped he would return soon

to let you know if he liked your recommendation of course...

✧

the next sale will begin in:

34 days 9 hours 0 minutes and 5 seconds

as if checking every hour would suddenly make them appear, you couldn't help but stalk the ticketmaster page, desperately waiting for seating charts, vip packages, or just prices in general to drop. with your entire happiness this summer being determined by whether or not you were going to enhypen's concert, you couldn't help but be utterly paranoid

with a heavy sigh, you peel your eyes away from your phone, dragging your feet slightly as you add the ingredients into the ice cream machine. as if the stress of ticketing and insensitive customers had not been enough, you'd been assigned the opening shift, a time you thought was ungodly to buy ice cream, but, you couldn't complain. overtime did mean more money in your pocket, so you opted to keep your complaints to yourself

as the day continued, you couldn't deny that the boy was on your mind again. even amongst tamer regulars, he was the one person you genuinely wanted to see

"um excuse me. I don't know why it's so hard for you to get it through your thick skull, but I ordered my ice cream in a waffle cone, not sugar cone" a woman spat out, shoving the cone in your hands before you could begin to unpack that statement

"I'm sorry ma'am but you ordered your ice cream on a sugar cone so I made it that way" you tried to reason, knowing damn well that she specified sugar, not waffle

"well the customer is always right! so quit the sass and do your j-"

"ma'am, I know this is none of my business but this young woman said she made your order to the 't,' so would you please have some human decency, admit your sorry, and leave her alone, please" the voice you'd been waiting yearning for all day rang out, interrupting the bitter words that came from the woman's mouth. looking up, your eyes meet his, which only give you a look of reassurance. completely stunned by his actions, the woman finds herself at a loss of words, grumbling as she stormed out of the parlor like a child throwing a tantrum

giggling as the door jingled behind her, he stepped forward, now directly parallel to you across the counter

"you never seem to catch a break, now do you?" he almost laughs, still amused at the woman's childlike nature. trying to keep your composure, you only shrug with a smile

"thank you, again. for caring I mean. you didn't have to do that" you insist, unable to meet his eyes, a little nervous being around someone you deemed way too out of your league. he only frowns

"y/n, this is only my second time meeting you but I swear if someone tries to disrespect you again, I will defend you towards the ends of the earth. who else is gonna recommend me ice cream flavors?" he ends with a teasing smile, which you only scoff at, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach at the implications of the beginning of his statement

his smile grows, a contagious expression which only reflects back to you

"speaking of ice cream recommendations, that was quite possibly the best ice cream I've ever had. when I got home, I couldn't stop thinking about coming back here. please share some more of your ice cream secrets, oh wise one" he teases, making you giggle. you ignore how your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him thinking about you like you had him

no

it wasn't like that

right?

you tap your chin comically as you think. the whole time, he bears an expectant look on his face, giving you his full, undivided attention, making you a little nervous if you do say so yourself

"you fancy me as a cookie dough kind of guy" you joke, playing along, making him smirk

"is that so?" he gives you an amused look. you don't miss the way his eyes rake you before returning to yours

"I'll take your word. I'll have that then, please" he smiles, sitting down on a stool in front of the counter, still parallel to you, watching as you make the treat

"so, if you don't mind me asking, what brought you here? there must be a reason why you wanna stay here even after all these fussy customers" he asks curiously, eyes never leaving you. as you scoop a few spoons of the cookie dough, you smile to yourself

"just trying to save up for a concert that's all" you tell the truth, opting to not elaborate, guessing he wouldn't care to ask anyways. your answer seems to pique his interest as he rests his chin in his hand, eyeing you with a curious look

"ooo what artist?" he questions, much to your surprise. you decide to tease the boy a bit, feeling oddly comfortable with him already though you just met him the previous day

"you sure do ask a lot of questions don't you? definitely cookie dough" you don't miss how he smiles to himself at your comment. he lifts his arms in defense with a warm smile

"got me there. now who are you seeing?" he continues. at this point you hand him his ice cream, making sure to add rainbow sprinkles on top. though he didn't ask for them, you did so nonetheless considering how he seemed to enjoy them the previous day. your guess seemed to be correct as his eyes lit up immediately

"oh thank you" *gasp* "how'd you know I love sprinkles" he takes a spoonful of the treat, humming in delight as his eyes shut, his head thrown back dramatically

"you're a genius, y/n, I swear" he says through mouthfuls of ice cream, making you laugh

"thank you, and, to answer your question, I'm seeing enhypen. have you h-" he immediately lets out a gasp, almost choking on his spoonful. bracing his chest, he swallows his bite before looking at you with wide eyes

"you like enhypen?" he speaks in a hoarse voice which you only guess is from the coldness he quickly swallowed. you nod questionably, still confused as to why he had such a visceral reaction. he throws his head back in disbelief before craning his neck back to face you, leaning forward over the counter, resting his chin in his hand once more

"I literally religiously listen to their music it's not even funny" he jokes, taking another spoonful of ice cream

"what can I say? only hot people love enha" you state, not even processing your words until they come out of your mouth. eyes widening, you immediately regret it after seeing him look up from his ice cream with a teasing smile

"so are you implying I'm hot?" he teases, cocking his head to the side as he raises his eyebrows, making you freeze, scrambling to come up with some witty response to save yourself

"well I was implying I was hot actually but I guess you're included in there too" you state, masking your nervousness with feigned confidence. he bursts into a fit of laughter, throwing his head back and clapping his hands, a habit you found way too cute for your liking. calming down, he wipes away the tears that formed in his eyes, giving you an approving nod

"touche, touche"

high from your sudden boost of confidence, you continue playing along, matching his energy

"so then you're implying I'm hot. touche, am I right?" you say with a look way too innocent for your intentions. giving him your best does eyes in an attempt to amuse the boy. you could see his act falter a bit as he scoffs taken aback by your words, low-key finding it really attractive

"if the shoe fits" he states simply, as if his words weren't going to replay in your mind the rest of the day and keep you up at night pondering their intentions. taking one last spoonful of his ice cream, he walks toward the counter to pay, immediately putting his change in the tip jar just as he did the previous day. before leaving, he didn't forget to bid you a goodbye, promising to come by the next day to see you

a jake stan you presume

✧

the next sale will begin in:

12 days 6 hours 0 minutes and 2 seconds

though the shop had it's flaws, one thing about it you adored was the days off. with every employee being part time, the manager decided to just give everyone a day off every week to meet the hour requirements for part timers. having a day to yourself to escape the antarctic temperatures and even colder people was essential

normally, you would have stayed home and basked in your ability to sleep in. though, you ultimately decided against it when finding out the local pool was open. now you weren't a fan of public pools, infested with children who fail to control their bladders. but, with your oddly good luck, you arrive at a time earlier than most head for a swim, ensuring the pool all to yourself

slipping your towel off your skin, you gently make your way into the water, hissing at the cold temperature. sighing in relief as your muscles seemed to relax, you bask in the sunlight. bracing yourself with your arms off the edge of the pool, you sway your feet up and down, almost like a mermaid. you laugh to yourself. suddenly getting an idea, you slide yourself into the water fully, gripping onto the edge of the pool with just your hands. dipping your hair in the water, you wip back singing "part of your world~" as water splashes all around you dramatically

as you look up, your smile slowly drops as a heavy blush takes over your face

"hey, princess" that same voice you found yourself replaying in your mind rang out just above you. he gives you a smile but you only widen your eyes at the name, making him suddenly go into a frenzy

"no no no, I didn't mean it in like a player, f-boy way. like princess as in princess ariel. and you were just ariel so I-" you only giggle at his panicked stage, finding him increasingly adorable by the minute

"are you gonna keep rambling or are you gonna join me?" you tease, suddenly getting confidence boost. you immediately pat yourself on the back when you see a blush take over his face. you pretend not to notice. he shyly slips his way into the pool beside you, albeit a few feet adjacent to you, only amusing you more

"don't worry, riki. I don't bite on fridays" you slip your sunglasses down your nose, giving him a teasing look which he only returns with a shy smile. for a few minutes, you two sat in silence like that. it was then when it finally occurred to you that your conversations never went beyond the shop. desperately trying to think up a conversation, he thankfully starts

"I really like ariel" he finally speaks up, meeting your gaze with an unsure look. you smile warmly at his comment. he continues

"my older sister, konon, had this bright red hair when we were little. I always told her she looked like ariel" he laughs at the memory, almost making you feel like you were there too

"I guess she kind of became my favorite Disney princess 'cause she reminded me of her. you know how younger siblings kinda idolize their big sisters at that age. and my little sister, sola." he smiles to himself "gosh she's a character"

"you and your sisters must be close" you say, orienting yourself to face him, giving him your full, undivided attention. he pretends not to be flustered by the sudden attention, nodding with a smile

"what brings you here by the way? I WAS planning on having the pool all to myself so you at least owe me an explanation" you joke. he hesitates a little before responding, refusing to meet your gaze

"well, I was gonna get ice cream butsawyouweren'tthere so I decided to come here to cool off" he mutters his words in the middle but you understand nevertheless. with a smile, you lightly push his side a little. you don't miss the way he tenses at the contact

"it's not like scooping ice cream is a skill. you could've gone in even if I wasn't there" you tease, seeing him smile to himself a little at your words

"I dunno, it's not the same without you there" he finally meets your gaze as he speaks. you panic a little at his confession

"ya! you ruined ice cream for me. now I can't have it without you" he complains dramatically, making you giggle. you don't notice his smile forming at your happy state

"well I'm sorry I let you down today. how about we have some now, my treat" you offer, seeing the glimmer in his eyes at your invitation. you can practically see the cogs turning in his head as he contemplates the right response. deciding to tease him further, you gradually climb the steps to get out of the water

"I'm not getting any younger~" he is immediately snapped out of his thoughts at your words. without thinking, he gently grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks

"it's a date" he gives you an unsure look, biting his lip a little in anticipation. you try to keep your composure but the look on his face was too priceless. giggling like a teenage girl, you shake his hand away playfully

"don't get ahead of yourself now" you tease, flashing him a smile as you run off playfully. searching for you things, you rummage through your bag in search of your towel. mentally cursing at yourself, you realize you had forgotten it at home. pouting at the implications of you walking around town all wet, you sigh

emerging from the water himself, riki quickly takes notice of your frustrated state. searching for his towel, he wordlessly approaches your wet figure

"may I?" holding the towel just before it made contact with your back, he gives you a warm smile. giving him a shy nod, you quietly thank him, not missing the way he tries not to touch you out of respect as he helps drape it around you

"let's go, yeah?" waiting for you, you stop dead in your tracks at his actions. inhaling, you didn't miss the boy's scent hitting your nose, soothing you. in a weird way, you felt a gravitation towards the boy you couldn't quite explain. felt so safe with him though you'd only met him not long ago. shaking your thoughts, you hold the towel around yourself, nodding a shy thank you before following him

upon reaching the ice cream parlor, he insisted you choose for him, requesting you "surprise" him. with a playful roll of your eyes, you order for the both of you, reaching for your wallet to pay only for him to hand his own bill to the woman behind the counter, much to your surprise. with a smile, he insists its his treat as an apology for interrupting your pool day

making sure to hand you your ice cream first, you thank him before you begin to walk. about to leave himself, the employee stops him before you notice

"your girlfriend is beautiful by the way, you're a very lucky guy" the old woman gives him a smile as she hands over the soft serve. blushing to himself a little, he returns her smile

"I know"

"riki!" you call after him after noticing he wasn't next to you. beckoning him over, he takes one last glance at the woman before running to catch up to you. smiling as he slowly reached you, your eyes catch an arcade down the street. both giving each other a challenging look, you wordlessly agree to head there

✧

"but you already bought me ice cream. that's not fair" you complain with a pout, refusing to let riki pay for your tokens. trying to stop him from inserting his bill only proved to be fruitless, using your height against you. raising it above his head, he smirks as he sees you struggle. fingers gripping onto his shirt as leverage, you use the other to futility reach for the bill. he masks his blush with a smile, pretending as if he wasn't internally screaming at your touch

"come on! you're holding up the line! just let your boyfriend pay already" a bystander stresses, causing a blush to come over both of you. suddenly aware of your proximity, you let go of the boy, stepping away as you let him slip the money into the machine. collecting the tokens, you two walk away together, trying desperately to hold your laughter but mutually breaking after only a few steps of silence

with a gasp, he immediately pulls you to two basketball machines adjacent to each other off to the right of the arcade. giddily inserting the tokens into their respect slots, you shoot him a smirk

"watch and learn pretty boy" you tease, knowing VERY well you were all bark and no bite. you can see his tongue poking at the side of his cheek, amused

"we'll see about that, babe" he challenges, his voice dropping an octave in a tone too attractive than you'd like to admit

as if on cue, the clock starts and basketballs roll down the ramp. your eyes widen at the boys lightening reflexes, immediately grabbing a ball. taking a gulp, you swiftly pick up a ball yourself, shooting and (thankfully) succeeding much to your surprise

with new found motivation to beat the boy, you keeping shooting, glancing over at his score every so often as you waited for balls to roll down. as if feeling your eyes on him, the boy turns his head, throwing you a wink

"this one's for you, y/n" he says in a voice you assume was supposed to sound flirty. rolling your eyes, you watch as he dramatically dribbles the ball, flicking his wrist as he throws it only to completely miss the net. a wide-eyed look comes over his face, absolutely crushing his ego. you can't help but burst out laughing, doubling over as you brace yourself against the boy

soon enough, the buzzer goes off with you two only making a couple of shots, not that you cared. eyeing the scoreboards, you smirk. turning to the boy, you bat your eyelashes mockingly at him, rubbing your win in his face. with a smile, he accepts defeat, satisfied enough by seeing you have a good time. with a giggle, he watches you flaunt the tickets you won

with a gasp, you tap the boy excitedly, pointing toward a claw machine just a few games down. you (of course) take the opportunity to tease him

"if you get me something from there, maybe we can all forget about that excuse for a shot back there" you cock your head, giving him a challenging look. he hates the way your attitude worked wonders on his mind. how it makes it much harder to resist looking at your lips. how it turns his mind into putty and makes him eager enough for your attention to instantly take you up on the offer. though he would've done it anyway if it meant your happiness

"which one do you want?" he asks, scanning the plushies for himself, mentally playing a guessing game of which you would choose. as soon as you laid eyes on the machine, you knew exactly which one you wanted. with a smile, you happily pointed to a little duck plushie. he gives you a questioning look but inserts the tokens nonetheless

being places in be middle of two games, the claw machine had only the facet facing you visible. combined with his tall frame, you found it hard to watch. with a pout, you searched for a way to observe him play, eyes lighting up when you see an opening just in front of the boy

slipping just under the boy's arms, you feel him freeze a little before resting his chin on your forehead, continuing to jut the switch "strategically." the same feeling took over yourself. you were nothing to him but why did it feel right to be this close to him? why did you feel so safe at this proximity and crave more than just the contact of his chin on your head?

your thoughts are interrupted by him pulling away, much to your dismay, shouting in celebration at his win as he happily danced around like a child. swiftly grabbing the duck plushie from the slot, he handed it to you with a smile, which you only returned

"okay, okay, I'll forget about that lame shot. thank you riki" you smile, eyes lingering a little too long as they meet his. giving you a playful nudge, you giggle as you watch him feign annoyance. hugging your duck plushie, you hold it up next to his face, using your other hand to caress your chin in a pondering manner

"hmm there's definitely a resemblance" you tease, looking up at the boy who only gives you an unamused look. you giggle as he pouts a bit, further proving your point

"you're too cute" you say with a laugh, only further annoying him

"not cute" he mumbles under his breath, crossing his arms like a child, earning a chuckle from you

"if you insist my little duckie" your voice raises in a teasing manner toward the end, already sensing his annoyance growing

he was too easy

"oh you're gonna get it" he threatens with a scoff too attractive for the situation

"not if you can't catch me~" you tease, running off before he could realize it, searching for a hiding spot amongst the neon lights and laughing crowds, face lighting up at a perfect spot just behind the basketball machines. being on a slant, you'd be under the upper portion of the game, giving you enough space to hide without being too claustrophobic

you almost laugh at how childish you were being but he didn't seem to care, eagerly searching for you through the crowds. with the spot in sight, you try to slip your way through the many people huddled around the arcade machines, running as fast as you could. your tunnel vision didn't seem to take notice of a quite everything in front of you, though. you immediately stop in your tracks at a figure in front of you just before you ram into them

"hey hey what's the rush pretty girl?" a boy around your age stood before you, a smug look on his face. your breath quickened a bit. for some odd reason, you couldn't help but feel disgusted at his words. like they were wrong to hear. like you were betraying riki in a way but letting the boy very obviously flirt with you. flashing him a fake smile, you try to slip through the crowds to lose him but he persists, taking hold of your arm with a vice grip

"let me go!" tears start to well in your eyes in fear, no one seeming to notice. scanning the crowds of people for the boy seemed futile

"relax, babe. we can talk this over somewhere else, yeah?" he smirks, starting to drag you toward the door. hot tears roll down your eyes as you try shaking his grip away

"hey! she told you to let her go" a familiar voice appears. with a hopeful look, you lock eyes with riki whose face bares a petrified expression. you can see the pain in his eyes as he feigns a confident look

"and who are you?" the stranger asks bitterly. you see him hesitate before he speaks, giving you a look beforehand, almost an 'im sorry'

"she's my girlfriend, so if she told you to let her go, then let her the fuck go" his voice shakes, his anger not masking his fear entirely, but you suppose the boy doesn't notice, immediately letting go of your arm, lifting his arms defensively before walking out the door

as your eyes finally meets riki's, his gaze softens, enveloping you into a tight hug. hit with the gravity of the situation if he weren't there, you cling to him, letting your tears dampen his shirt as he holds your head, massaging your scalp

"I'm so sorry I let you out of my sight, angel. I promise it'll never happen again" his voice was soft, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as his arms never left your side. you ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the name, too focused on his warm hold seemingly washing your worries away. cupping your cheek, he looks into your eyes with a soft smile as he rubs soothing circles onto your skin as he gently wipes a tear away

"how about I take you home" he whispers, looking down into your eyes as he towered over your figure. nodding wordlessly, you let him lead you towards the door, hand still around your waist, too afraid to let you go. you knew by now he was a man of boundaries, one of respect. but he couldn't bring himself to leave your side. placing a hand over his on your waist gave him the reassurance he needed that he had your consent

in that moment, you realize he never corrected himself when he addressed you as his girlfriend

you didn't seem to mind

walking through the streets as he led you home, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. the fact that a bystander would probably mistaken you two for a couple and you wouldn't correct them. you couldn't help but shake the thought that you could get used to it

upon reaching your door, you could see the hesitation in his movements, slowly dropping his hand from your waist. he scans you before speaking, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear

"are you sure you're okay, y/n" his voice softens as he searches into your eyes for any sign of discomfort

"never been better" you smile, slipping your hands around his neck, embracing him as an expression of your gratitude "thank you." you close your eyes as you squeeze him tighter, knowing he would never truly know how grateful you were for him through words alone

"my pleasure" he watches intently as you pull away, pulling your keys out to unlock your door. as your back faces him, he can't shake the one thought he had on his mind, couldn't let you slip away from him once more. with a gentle grip on your wrist, he pulls you back into his arms. hands coming up to cup your cheeks, he tilts his head, lips colliding with yours

for a second, the world stopped, the only thing running through your mind being the sweet taste of vanilla on the boy's lips. as the reality hits you, you follow his movements, tangling your fingers through the boy's soft locks. you feel a hot tear roll down your cheek, feeling utterly complete at the contact you've been craving for too long. as if this very moment answered all of the burdening questions and doubts that previously ran through your mind

and just like that, it got stripped away from you

he pulls away abruptly, eyes shifting frantically as his hands came up to his hair, pulling at the strands you once touched. you can hear his breath quicken as he speaks

"fuck, fuck, fuck, I didn't mean to do that. I didn't even ask for your consent. you were just hit on by some creep and this is what I do. God, I'm such a horrible person" you hear his voice shake as he paces back and forth

"please don't hate me" he locks eyes with you. only then do you see the streaks of tears rolling down his cheeks and the bloodshot nature of his eyes

"oh, ki, I could never hate you" tears begin to well in your own eyes. you attempt to approach the boy, cupping his cheeks in reassurance. he only feels disgusted with himself at your actions, feeling as if he manipulated you to feel that way. knowing you would never feel the same as he did you, he mutters an 'im sorry' before leaving

in that moment, it was as if every foot away from the boy was another one you'd never get back. you wish you could blame someone, something, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were part to blame. like sand, you let the boy slip right through your hold. only the remnants of what used to be remained, leaving you completely empty

✧

the next sale will begin in:

8 days 18 hours 9 minutes and 26 seconds

"one scoop of mint chocolate ice cream, one of cookies and cream, one of rasberry, and one of chocolate in a sugar cone with rainbow sprinkles, chocolate drizzles and Oreos on top. and get it right, it's for my kid" they end with a forced smile, not even bothering to say please or thank you, not that you cared. every day felt like an endless loop, a time without meaning ever since the boy left you that day. how much you wished to see his puma eyes and tall figure walk through those glass doors. how you wish you could've hugged him tighter that day, then maybe he would still be here with you

forcing a smile became increasingly difficult. anybody could see you were at your breaking point. as the days passed and the voicemails accumulated, it felt as if you deserved to be ghosted, deserved the rude treatment, only pulling yourself through the day by pure muscle memory

eyes flickering to the clock, you began to lose hope that the boy would ever walk through those doors again. taking your last order, you greet the family goodbye with a feigned smile before you heave the heavy mop onto the tile floor emotionlessly. hearing the bell at the door ringing, you take in a sharp breath

"sorry we're closed" you force out, not even feeling like feigning a peppy voice. hearing a pair of shoes shuffling closer, you clench your jaw, ready to break at any point. looking up, your eyes meet the ones that have kept you up on sleepless nights, haunted your thoughts

wordlessly, you run to the boy, not even bothering to stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks. immediately doing what you dreamt of doing these past nights, you tiptoe to reach the boy, cupping his cheeks softly and letting his lips meet yours. your breath hitches and you taste the saltiness of your tears as you feel the boy's soft lips you missed dangerously. letting his forehead meet yours, you whisper painfully

"please don't leave again. please, ki" you breath out, interlocking your fingers in his hair as you did that day

"I promise, angel. I promise. I'm so sorry for being such a coward" you only shush the boy, relishing in the warmth you missed oh so much. you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when his hands find purchase on your waist. you can't help but think the fit was too perfect for it not mean to be

"angel" he whispers sweetly into your ear, making your breath hitch. you only hum in response, not wanting release your hold on him just yet

"will you be mine?" he caressed your cheek softly as he whispers. you only giggle through tears

"only if you come see enha with me" you smile, leaning into the touch. wiping the tears from his cheeks, he chuckles

"you got yourself a deal"

fin

author's note: I hope you can tell I love angst but only to a certain extent cuz this one lasted a grand total of 5 seconds😍

also this is my first longer fic so pls let me know what you think!!! I would really appreciate it<3

@hachimarii 🤭🤭

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #ni ki enhypen #niki fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #nishimura niki #enha x reader #enha imagines #ni ki #ni ki imagines #niki soft hours #enhypen niki #enha #enha fluff #niki enhypen

[laguezze]

PAC: What's your ideal career path?

(This is for the career oriented people that got absolutely no idea what to do with their lives or have an idea but are so overwhelmed and lost with all the possibilities. I salute y'all bc same)

More piles this time because why not lol

Here are the piles:

Pile 1

Pile 2

Pile 3

Pile 4

Pile 5

Pile 6

Ready? Let's go!

Pile 1

I'm so into you, I can barely breathe ~

👩‍🍳🏖️🩴🍹🚣‍♀️🤝👩‍💼🕴️🧳

There are two subgroups within this pile so I will read them differently right now.

Seems like Group 1 is actually free spirited and out there and independent. You guys don't need anyone and you hate being restrained by boundaries or rules. Thus, I think a career that best suits you is one where no one rules over you but yourself. And of course not a high stress environment. I'm seeing you, group 1 fellows might thrive in a customer service position. Some of you might open your own bar or something, I'm seeing a lot of entrepreneurship here. Do it. Start that business and be happy.

And now onto group 2

For group 2, seems like you guys have some things to work on. You say your dream is to be a hippie by the beach that is free spirited and carefree but you are nothing like that. And that is ok. You're not less cool or more boring or ordinary. You being yourself is already unique, there is nothing to complete in you.

I'm seeing some of you guys are quiet and shy, but actually love people. Wouldn't be hurtful to try out some customer service as well! Weirdly enough I see the same career paths as group 1 for you guys. Entrepreneurship, having your own company, etc.

In general, for both groups I see these:

culinary arts (big on this one), Chef, waiter, bartender, owner of any place that serves food or drink, secretary, CEO, business management, HR worker, meeting mediator, etc

Pile 2

You like my hair? Gee, thanks! Just bought it ~

🎹👮‍♀️⚖️👩‍🔬🔭🔬💅

You guys seem like a bit of an airhead but in a wonderful way. I can't stress how positively I mean that. People seem baffled by the way you act and say things and you surprise them everyday. Seems like you really don't care about who you're talking to, there is no filter or personality switch. You're just you. And it's genuine. And it's enough. You seem to have some issues with people because of that, but also you attract wonderful opportunities as well. Think Elle Woods from Legally Blonde. Big Elle energy for real.

I think you guys might even be in a male dominated industry, which is tough considering your personality, but not impossible. And especially not impossible for you. Absolutely not customer service, though. Some people hate your personality (f them ngl) but your ideal career is probably one where your work speaks for itself and they can't deny your talent.

I see careers such as STEM, law, IT, music, biology, forensics, investigator, nail tech and criminal Justice.

Pile 3

Wrote some songs about Ricky, now I listen and laugh ~

🩰🪩🕺🏠👩‍💼🎭💵🤑😎

You guys are powerful. When you enter a room, people notice you. Which is why you could either do great in the performance arts or in a position of power within an organization. This is so short and straight forward, but so are you so...

Careers I see: dancer, CEO, event planner, actor, real estate agent.

Pile 4

She might've let you hold her hand in school but imma show you how to graduate ~

🏖️🤑🧳✈️🍹🍔🍕👨‍🍳🧥🚣

Ok you guys, this is gonna be a bit straightforward so beware.

A lot of you guys think you're hot s*-#, which you can be but you are not right now. What I mean by that is you seem like the type of person that says: yeah! I'm gonna have a private jet and a thousand cars and blah blah. Very materialistic. But you're not putting in the work at all, you probably don't even know what it is you're passionate about or want to do with your life (which is so valid). You just want to be rich, which honestly I get it, but you need some drive other than "i want a Maserati" you need to want something bigger. You need to be good at something and you don't even know what that something is. And something tells me that you are not even thinking about what that could be. You fantasize about being rich without wondering how to get there. Why do you want that? Status? Relationships? Reevaluate.

That said, I see two types of outcomes. If you put in the effort I'm seeing you can achieve that level of richness you're looking for. Some of you might start a company or climb up an existing one. Some of you might become travel vloggers or influencers.

If you keep doing what you're doing I see you're working at fast food chains (i literally channeled that I'm not gonna lie to y'all) as a manager maybe retail too, that type of jobs.

Careers I see: McDonald's worker, fast food manager, retail worker, makeup store worker (I'm seeing Sephora), mall business owner, souvenir store owner, business owner in general, travel vlogger, boat driver, tourist attraction worker, marketing specialist, hotel worker, hotel owner.

Hope it resonates and my apologies for the bluntness, seemed like the pile wanted to call you out. Maybe you needed it.

Lots of love 💕

Pile 5

I've been here all night, I've been here all day ~

🎤🩰🏡📚🧑‍🍳💐👨‍👩‍👦‍👦

You guys are actually going to be successful. I'm seeing some of you have bigger dreams, some of you have smaller ones (which is cool too!) But all of you will definitely achieve them in some way or another.

I see someone with a family and a big house. Some kids running around. Some of you want to be stay at home partners to a rich person (respect to you guys, every dream is a valid one) and I see you'll get that and be fulfilled. Vacation is a given. You don't struggle with money. None of you guys do.

Some common themes you all have is that your career will allow you to be calm and chill. There are no problems. Money comes easy and secure. And you're living the dream, whichever dream that may be.

A lot of you guys here are here for confirmation of an ideal life you have. Let me say, yes. It's happening. Maybe not in the way you think, maybe not in the amount of success you want it. Or maybe it does fully! But it's happening. I'm seeing some of you might want to act? You'll be an actor and have work but maybe you won't be a big Hollywood star. Or maybe you will!

Some of you may want to be singers. Again, you might not win a Grammy and become Beyonce, but you will work as a singer and it will pay your bills. Like singing at events, hotels, etc. (Or maybe you will win a Grammy! Don't let tarot discourage you from achieving anything! It's just a tool, not a strict rule to follow)

Anyways, you will be whatever it is you want to be.

I know this reading might be confusing but that's what I channelled.

Careers I see: actor/actress, stay at home partner, flight attendant, singer, dancer, librarian, real estate agent, restaurant owner, chef, coffee shop owner, flower shop owner, bakery owner.

Pile 6

A feeling that you can't fight, my one ~

🥖🇫🇷🌍✈️📸

You guys are travelers, no matter what you do you will be up in the air and onto a new place. Kinda chaotic, but you like that.

I'm seeing some of you might work in the fashion industry, models, designers, makeup artists, etc. You all are here gathered. I hear Milan, Paris, London, Fashion Week.

Some of you could just be a flight attendant and that's why you travel so much.

A couple of you might be touring for some reason, you might play in a band or you might sing backup for someone or you might sing yourself or play.

I'm seeing such chaos, though. Like a lot.

Some of you might do film! Or photography! And probably need to relocate for shoots a lot. So cool.

Careers I see: photographer, filmmaker, model, magazine editor, security guard, flight attendant, pilot, makeup artist, wardrobe assistant, set decorator.

The End

#tarot readings #free readings #tarot #tarot blog #pick a card #tarot pick a card #tarot pick a pile #pick a pile #ask game readings #free tarot reading

[localgremlinboy]

I have been sitting on these for a long time because I wanted to have some more varried stuff but I haven't had time to write anything! So here's what I've got! Honestly these are some of my favorites

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6]

- Whenever he's kicked out of an area or event, Oswald proceeds to start shoving anything not taped down into his pockets. He doesn't need the stuff, he just likes to be petty and ruin it for everyone else

- Bane has done a series of infomercials for various products & services that only air on late night product channels. Alfred is the only batfamily member who knows, he was doing laundry late one night and nearly lost it

- Mr Freeze writes restaurants/companies when they wrong him. Like nice formal letters, signing them and everything

- The Joker has an imdb page. Actually a lot of the villains do but like the Joker has one he updates with fun facts. Who says they're accurate but they sure are fun

- Riddler freaking hates puppets. Their soulless eyes say it all. He refuses to or "work" with puppets. That being said, Scarecrow has chased him around with Scarface once or twice "for science"

- Scarecrow has and still does write letters of recommendation for his ex students. He freaking still has Gotham University letterhead paper and everything. Honestly some of his students have gotten the job from his letter alone (maybe it's out of fear but like it's still a win), and they 100% send Jonathan thank you gifts in Arkham. He's got one of those dorky teacher scrapbooks where he keeps the thank you letters. One of his students even crocheted him a little plush scarecrow. It's like, they don't love his crimes but you know that was ol kooky professor Crane for ya

- Harvey kind of has a soft spot for sitcoms, he used to watch them with his mom growing up. One of their favorites, ironically, was night court

- Bane has a famous chili recipe and he makes one batch a year. It's fucking delicious! He makes an edition with meat and a vegetarian version too. Of course consults Ivy for home grown excellent quality vegetables and she gets first dibs in return

- the Joker has not one but TWO released albums. One is essentially a mash up of all the serenades he's made Batman listen to over the years and the other one is called "The Holidays with the Joker: Christmas selects edition"

- Scarecrow's car is a mess. He's got a work truck of course but his main car is like a wood panel sedan that he's been driving since he was a professor and refuses to get a new one. It's a fucking mess, he has like clothes, papers, garbage all over the place. He still has term papers he forgot to grade under the seats. Riddler HATES his car, with a passion

- Riddler has gone through the pain and suffering to teach all the rogues how to use discord, he had once hoped it would make their crimes more efficient. They have a group chat but it's mostly suffering on his end as all chaos ensues

- Scarecrow owns a Halloween train village he has set up in one of his lairs. It plays instrumental versions of Halloween songs as it goes around the track

- Joker will push open cups off of tables because he can. He's got the chaotic energy of a cat awake at 3 am

- Riddler and Scarecrow's friendship starts like super formal and co worker like but after like a year and a half, evolves into a weird symbiosis. Jonathan points at random ass objects or books and goes "you" when he's with Edward. Eddie has a habit of fixing or picking debris of Jonathan, usually when they're crimeing. Also one time, they were both startled so bad by Batman that Scarecrow jumped into riddler's arms like Scooby & shaggy, except they both held onto each other for a second before toppling over. Robin then unmasked them like scooby doo

- Harley & Ivy are frequent Panera customers and often get pick up orders there under "codenames" given by Harley. All the workers know who "Plantmamma" and "the quinnanator" are but like they tip great and everyone should get to enjoy soup

- Bane has one CD in his car, it's a 2010 greatest hits CD that someone accidentally left in there. Who you ask? He has no idea

- Harley has a getaway playlist preloaded in her phone for car chases

- Riddler and Scarecrow watch reality tv/game shows together. They binged all of survivor and the amazing race in a year. It was a joke at first but they both got really into the shows. They have both applied to be on amazing race together and unfortunately haven't been called back

- Joker still uses cassettes (and vinyls probably) except he mixes them himself and labels them all stupid titles like "Birthday bash #9", "Baty's mix", "what's the deal with airplane food?", "etc". But he also has a tape recorder and makes notes to himself and labels those ones too, so he gets his personal notes mixed up with his music jams all the time. He goes to put on some epic clown music and instead it's a twenty minute recording he made of himself eating fruit loops

#dc #silly rogues headcanons #edward nygma #riddler #the penguin #oswald cobblepot #bane #two face #harvey dent #the joker #poison ivy #pamela isley #scarecrow #jonathan crane #look i will defend cool teacher scarecrow until the day i die #he was a rad dude except for like the extreme fear stuff #harley quinn #harleen quinn #scriddler #it's implied a little because they're kinda married

[acherontiarchivist]

Hii! So the reader some how, some way, meets our boy Gabe. And they’re really into men with sexy long hair and yummy voices and the reader is just like mmmmm oooooo ahhhhh

And Gabe is just standing there like 🧍“ Bitch, be so fucking fr.”

Hiiiiii, thanks for the ask! I went with a kinda mixture of Gabriel being totally fucking oblivious and also not believing anyone could see him that way. He comes around, though :) thanks for your patience, Anon, and I hope you enjoy the fic!!!

Warnings: people being mean to Gabriel, reader is also kind of an asshole to Gabe ngl, mentions of masturbation, unsolicited flirtation by the reader, mentions of choking kink

Word count: 2.7k, including a bonus teaser ;)

Closing shifts were always your favorite. Your other coworkers hated them with a passion, and always asked to switch your morning shifts with their nights. At first they would give excuses along the lines of having to attend their kids' baseball games or attending family events, but that quickly fell through when you pointed out that they both couldn't possibly be that busy every closing shift.

"OK, You got me. Honestly, I'm surprised it took you this long to protest. You're definitely braver than us." Del was restocking the freezer with novelty ice cream bars as you sent reminder texts to renters informing them of their upcoming due dates and waited for a customer to ring.

"What do you mean? " you replied, smacking on a thick wad of hubba bubba between pauses, "I'm just saying if you guys don't like closing I'm more than happy to talk to the boss about scheduling me for the late shifts."

"You- you like the closing shift?" He seemed too astonished to multitasking, as he'd almost dropped a box onto the floor.

"Yeah, it's pretty easy, and I'm more of a night owl anyway."

"Wait, so you haven't noticed anyone… unusual coming in on your night shifts?" His hands were now too preoccupied on carrying the conversation than work.

"No? Just the same regulars that rent a porno and grab a few beers. They never make any advances on me, and I don't really give a fuck about their purchases." You continued to pay just as much attention as you had been to your work task.

"No, no, that's not what I mean." He shook his head and pointed to you, earning you a slight glance in acknowledgement.

"Well, what do you mean?" What else could he possibly mean?

He sighed, " Well, there's this… guy?" He gestured vaguely, "Eh, that comes in every now and again. He always wears this big ass trench coat, smells like pennies and has this fucked up face."

You turned your head to the side and sucked a bubble inside your cheek, "That's a bit rude."

"Hey, if you saw the guy, you'd agree. Anyway, I don't like him, and he makes Fernanda uncomfortable. Besides, he never buys anything. Just walks in, stares at this section or that, stands there for minutes at a time, and eventually leaves. And he scares other customers away!"

"Have you ever talked to him? Customer service is part of our job, you know."

"Nahhhhh, fuck that." He turned back to his task at hand.

You rolled your eyes, "It would get him out of the store quickly. And make us some money."

"Well, sounds like you can handle him perfectly well yourself. Don't come crying to us when you're stuck with all the night shifts and eventually run into that guy."

"You're so melodramatic. I doubt it's anywhere near as bad as you make it out. Y'all have probably already ran him off with your shit people skills, given that I haven't ran into this guy the entire two weeks I've been here."

"Oh, shit. I hadn't thought of that." He had stopped a moment to think, then looked at you and shrugged.

"No take-backsies. Night shift's mine."

It was another two weeks before you finally saw him enter the store. You had already taken care of clean up and restocking routines as usual and were left with most of your shift to act busy until it was time for closing. This time was perfect for getting a little bit of drawing done between customers, your boss didn't mind as long as you made a few sales throughout the night. You were so focused on your drawing that you hadn't noticed him enter. He was quiet, the only thing that tipped you off to his presence was the smell of pennies that Del had warned you about. When you looked up, he was standing in front of the miniscule horror selection, his back towards you, head almost entirely obscured by a tall standing collar reminiscent of something one might see a villain clad in a noir or giallo film. It took you just a moment to muster up the courage to approach him.

"Can I help you find something today?"

There was a moment of silence, almost as if he were hesitating, then a nearly unnoticeable nod, careful to obscure his face behind his messy dark strands.

You glanced at the titles before you, considering what might fall into his taste. "If you're on the hunt for a horror recommendation, you've found the right person to help." You ignored the fact that you were the one who approached him. After a moment of careful contemplation, you grabbed two movies, one to your left and one you had to excuse yourself to grab in front of him.

"We don't have a huge selection right now, but these are two classic giallo films I think you might find an interest in," you showed him Deep Red and The Bird With The Crystal Plumage. "Oh! Actually, I have one more recommendation from our thrillers."

He observed the covers of each DVD before flipping them over and reading the back as you perused the adjacent aisle.

"Here it is!" You grabbed the movie and brought it to him. "No Country For Old Men is more of a personal favorite," you said, pointing at the 'Employee Picks' poster by the register, "but I have a feeling you'd like it, too."

He studied the back of that case as well. The opportunity to peek at his face while he was distracted was not wasted. Admittedly, he was an individual that oozed mystique. When he caught you staring you tried to deflect with more customer service as an excuse.

"Um, if you like, we have rental versions. So you can watch them all before you commit to buying any." There was no way he hadn't caught you blushing. "I'll just give you a few minutes to think about it," you said, hiding behind the register once again. He was silent approaching the register with the rental copies of the movies you had shown him and through the completion of the transaction.

"The rentals are due on the 25th, you're all good to go."

He nodded and turned for the door.

"See you in two weeks," you smiled, and he was gone.

The next two weeks were uneventful, just you counting down every day until the 25th of the month. In the meantime, you badgered your boss to expand the selection of horror films and thought of what to show him next time he came through. When the day finally came your coworkers noticed how unusually chipper you were, and you brush it off as it being your weekend after today. The night turned late without any sign of him, and you worried that he returned the videos earlier in the day, or on a night you didn't work. Just as you were losing hope and thinking of closing a few minutes early, a call rang the store phone.

"Hello, thank you for calling Marty's Movies and Munchies. How can I help you tonight?"

The voice on the other line was strained and slow at first, deep and raspy in a way you found incredibly sexy. "Are you closed? I need to return some videos. I'm a bit later than I expected to be."

You lean in to the counter, feeling generous enough (and hopeful that he'll come by) to let the sexy-voiced customer in after close. Not like you had plans, anyway. "Nope, you still have about ten minutes 'till doors close, but since you called ahead I'll give you an additional ten minute grace period. Any later than that and you'll have to bring it in tomorrow and pay a small late fee."

"No need, I'm already here."

Before you could question the caller, the ringing of the bell hung above the door caught your attention. Immediately, you recognized the gangly form of the man your coworkers had not-so-affectionately dubbed The Creeper. Your gaze lingered on him, trying to get another glance at his piercing eyes through the curtain of hair that he made sure masked his face. He must have picked up on it and became self conscious, as he pulled his high collar up and sunk further behind its shadow. Odd enough, but you also noticed that he didn't appear to be holding a cell phone.

Feeling particularly brave, and maybe a bit too confident, you leaned over the counter and smiled at him, "So that's what you sound like, huh?"

His posture noticeably stiffened.

"Or is it a voice modulator? Either way, it's kinda sexy."

"Just…return these, will you?" It was quite cute how he would avert his eyes and take half a step back out of embarrassment. You didn't take him for the shy type.

Though he stumbled over every word, you had forgotten the landlines propped between your head and shoulder and the sudden noise in your ear made you jump back. "Yeah, sure thing."

"And," he hesitated for a moment, "I think I would like to purchase my own videos."

"Ok, DVD or blu-ray?" You already had them picked out and waiting for him under the counter, and held them out for him to choose.

"I… don't know the difference."

"You don't know which you have?"

He looked embarrassed and almost shrank right where he stood, "I watch them on my sister's device."

"Well does she have movies like this," you shook the bigger case in your left hand, "or this?" shaking then the smaller blue case.

"Both?" Incredible. You had no idea how anyone could just not know the difference.

"OK, I'm choosing for you," you said, stuffing a plastic shopping bag with blu-ray copies of each film. "You're getting blu-ray. They're better."

"What if I'm wrong? Will a DVD player work with these movies?"

His questions were honestly the most interesting ones you would get from customers, even if just for the sheer unawareness he had demonstrated in... pretty much everything. "Jesus Christ dude. Have you been living under a rock for the past 25 years or something?"

"Something like that," he answered a bit too readily, "And a bit longer."

You blinked and chose to ignore the statement. He was weird, odd looking, brooding, and now, obviously, a bit socially inept. God, he just became more and more your type, and you were dying to score. "Well," you started, "DVD players are the older video player and therefore not backwards compatible, but blu-ray players can play both. If your sister has both kinds of movies, she most likely has a blu-ray player, but," you wrote your number on a notepad kept at the counter and tore the page off, sliding it into the bag with his purchase, "if you have any questions or run into any problems you can call me. I might just let you come over and use mine." You ended with a wink to give it what you hoped was an extra layer of obvious courtship.

"Why would I use your device? I'll just buy my own." He pulled out a loose debit card from the right pocket of his coat and shoved it in your direction expectantly.

You sighed and took his debit card, ignoring your initial glance at the name– certainly not the name he had given for his customer account– then prepared to slide the card through the reader. "God, you are oblivious," you rolled your eyes. "Ok, your total is–"

"Wait," he quickly interrupted, then hesitated for a fraction of a second, "I want to rent another movie."

Of course! You had forgotten the movie you had previously selected for him. "Anything in mind?"

"I trust your judgment."

Your grin couldn't be wider as you grabbed the last rental copy of Possession from your 'Employee Picks' cubby. "You'll love this one. I feel a particular kinship with Isabelle Adjani's character, Anna. I think you'll like her too." With that, you rang up his total and saw him out the door.

By the time he left it was fifteen minutes past closing and you had to rush to finish up routines. You couldn't wait to brag to your coworkers that you had made a big sale to The Creeper. There wasn't much time to revel in your victory and plan your next move, however, because he had returned the following night. As it turns out, you didn't need to. He practically fell right into your lap.

When he entered, you immediately noticed that he walked with much more confidence than before. Ioday, he wore his coat open, and the standing collar limped to the side, putting his face, though still partially obscured by his gangly hair, almost proudly on display. You were so distracted by his drastic change in demeanor that you almost didn't notice him speaking to you.

"I want my own copy of this movie."

"I'm sorry, but we don't have any more for sale. You can always come in and renew your rental every two weeks, though that limits the number of other movies you can–" 

"Order it for me."

"I can't do that, unfortunately, but–"

"Yes? But what?"

You prop your elbow on the counter and rest your head in your palm, looking up at him from just below, "I have my own copy in my personal collection. You can come by and watch it anytime you like."

"Tonight. I'm coming home with you."

You laughed at how forward he was suddenly being, "Sure. I'm closing up in a few minutes," you tossed him your keys. "Wait for me in the car."

A few minutes later, you locked up the store and entered your car, where he sat nervously waiting for you.

Bonus!

You had waited all day for the unknown call with steadily declining patience. It's not that you were annoyed. You were just excited for your weekly visit. Every week the routine was the same: he comes or calls, spends hours with you holed up in your room and leaves you shivering under your sheets, eagerly awaiting his next arrival.

 Your work day crawled by at an agonizing pace, not helped by the slow business this time of year– and in your particular line of retail. The number of customers that came through the small video store could be counted on one hand, and the number that actually made a purchase even less. As usual, most of your shift was spent doodling in your sketchbook. Lately, they would all be little sketches of him. His hair was your favorite thing to draw; the contrasting textures of his wavy, dry hair and bloody wet tangles looping around one another, the cracked leather coat he always wore, drawing special and precise attention to his bright eyes and the exposed muscles of his face. Your sketchbook was littered with countless finished and unfinished pencil and ink sketches alike. Sometimes, you would add a splash of color, usually red or blue.

He never came into the store anymore. Instead, he would pick from your personal collection and give you money for a copy of his own if he really liked the film. Once or twice, you had tried to set up a cute movie marathon date night, but he would often get...  distracted. It was nice, though. Sneaking him in through your window so your roommates didn't freak out and fucking with the lights out and a movie on in the background made you feel like a teenager again. The butterflies he would churn up in your stomach and the heavy feeling in your chest when you thought of him made you absolutely giddy, though you would have a hard time admitting it if pressed.

It wasn't often he would leave you hanging. If he couldn't make it, he would at least call you and let you know ahead of time. At least then you'd know to set time aside to take care of yourself.

Tonight was one such night. No call, no cancel, no sign of him. By the time you would usually have heard from him, you had had enough of waiting and decided to pleasure yourself. Earphones plugged in with your background noise of choice, lube in hand, toy at the ready, you went to work. As you moved your hands over your body, you imagined they were his. Admittedly, only he could tease you the way you really needed it, from with feather-light touches that tickled your inner thighs, to his hands wrapped around your neck in a vice grip; but tonight, your own would have to do. Just the thought of him touching you like that had you crying out his name. It wasn't until you were nearing your peak that your session was interrupted by an incoming call.

You let the phone ring as you stared at the ID on the screen.

UNKNOWN

It had to be him. It always was. You let the call linger for a few more seconds before you finally picked up the line– you just had to tease him a little bit. A few seconds of silence greeted your ears and planted a seed of uncertainty. "Hello?"

Nothing to be heard on the other line. You considered hanging up before the familiar feedback pierced the line. He said nothing at first, leaving you shivering in anticipation.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line, or perhaps a dark stifled laugh.

"Starting the show without me, sweetheart? What, no more ten minute grace period for me?"

#gabriel may #slasher fucker #gabriel may x reader #slasher x reader #malignant 2021 #malignant #gabriel malignant #post content

[arcielee]

Wait So Long

Summary: You are trying to surprise your boyfriend and it does not work out like you had planned. Pairing: modern Aegon Targaryen x FemaleReader   Word Count: 2279 Warnings: Implied sexy times, but this is purely fluff. Author’s Note: Here is another part of my series-that-isn’t-really-a-series. This is a collaboration piece I did with the darling, talented @f4ll-for-you ♥ Her work is amazing and I cannot thank her enough for her help with this piece! And a shoutout to my amazing beta reader @foxee-d-or.  Taglist (my Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aspen-carter @aemondx @fan-goddess​ @babygirlyofthevale​ @randomdragonfires​

“Yeah, I know, Cree, but I keep telling you and Jace that I fucking suck at this game,” you heard Aegon whine into his headset, animated with his hands and wielding the controller as an emphasis to his words. “And, yet, I still play with you all, only to be verbally abused by you cunts-” his eyes rolled over and he saw you. 

One of the many things you cherished about your relationship with this man was his ability to read you like a book, to such a degree he seemed more aware of the emotion you were feeling before it registered with yourself. Aegon moved in a fluid motion, beginning with the words, “Hey, I’ve got to go right now,” before he tore off and abandoned both the headset and controller on the couch; he pushed from his seat and moved towards you, his brow furrowed with concern.

Then you felt it, the tears that spilled from the corners of your eyes and bunching your lashes together. You did not know when it started, perhaps the frustration that had been building since you first took on this contract role, something you have been adamant about six weeks prior.

In the beginning, you saw his hesitation, but you coaxed him into believing it was a good idea, and in theory it had been. You promised him this job would allow you to polish your portfolio and you promised to quit that customer service role you currently worked. You explained your excitement to finally do something with your damn degree and how you could use the extra money to upgrade your equipment.

“I can buy you new equipment, though,” he had argued and you vehemently refused, continuing on about your independence, how this was your career, your passion.

And he listened to your every word, watching you in a way that was so uniquely him and you loved him for it: the slight tilt of his head, how his lips pursed together when he was not quite yet convinced, how his lavender eyes moved back and forth with your presentation. 

“Only four weeks?” was all he had asked when you were done. You swore yes. 

Now you were on to your seventh week, dealing with a client who was unhappy with everything you presented, with their ceaseless revisions that kept prolonging the contract; yes, the pay was nice, but you were unsure if it was worth your sanity.  

In truth, you did want to utilize your degree and this opportunity would allow you to be rid of the customer service role you had since uni, to finally transition to remote work life. You also had an ulterior motive: a gift for Aegon. 

He had always spoiled you and you loved him for it, but you were also frustrated that any gift you managed seemed to pale in comparison. “Babe,” he laughed the one time you tried to bring it up to him, “I’m a fucking trust fund baby. Just allow me to pay it forward, since you have already done so much for me as it is!”

This only made you all the more determined to contribute, as meager as your income seemed prior to this contract, but Aegon never breathed a word of complaint, other than he hated you being away from the apartment you shared. 

It was the selling point. “If I take this, I will quit that job,” your tone honeyed and your eyes doleful. “This way I can work at home and be with you.” 

But also, you desperately wanted to buy him a dog. 

The idea came from his friends, Jace and Cregan, when you had a moment alone to press them for an anniversary gift for Aegon. They hemmed over their words and finally Jace mentioned getting him a dog and Cregan nodded enthusiastically. 

“He sends us clips all the time,” he continued. “Specifically a golden retriever.” 

You squealed your excitement at the possibility to outshine your boyfriend gift wise. “This is perfect! There is no way he can top that!”

They had exchanged looks, but said nothing. 

Fate presented itself with a text from Cregan, letting you know his half-sister’s dog was pregnant from a dog park mishap, which also happened to be the same dog that began Aegon’s fixation on them. You texted Sara immediately and she offered your pick of the litter, letting you know her dog was about five weeks along. 

It felt like everything was falling into place: the contract job would finish a week after, you could take Aegon to choose his pup, then go to Cregan and Jace’s apartment to collect the pet paraphernalia you had been hoarding there. 

There was a moment when Cregan stopped by to grab the royal purple collar and leash, that Aegon happened to return home sooner than you planned. 

Your relationship had a rocky beginning, but through his rehabilitation came an unwavering trust between you both. You considered yourself lucky to have Aegon as your boyfriend in that regard; there was no hint of jealousy when he found Cregan at the apartment, but his confusion was apparent when he saw him holding the leash and collar. 

“I was showing her the collar,” his friend stammered. “I bought it for this…girl I am dating-uh, fucking,” Cregan had a white knuckled grip and you watched Aegon for his response.

“Uh,” he narrowed his eyes on him for a moment. “That’s good for you?” 

Cregan was quick to leave. 

Sara let you know the puppies had been born but that was four weeks ago and you were three weeks extended into this contract with the most unpleasable, nit-picking cunt clients. You wanted it to end; you had already sneaked away to pay the pet deposit and all that was left was to bring Aegon to be surprised by the litter, but instead you received your umpteenth email of revisions needed and it would damn you to another week of this never ending misery. 

At first, you felt confident when you accepted this contract; you always had a knack to gauge colors, pigmentation, and you were software savvy to pick up on whatever the client was using. The interview left you feeling like they would value your expertise, but instead the weeks whittled away at your self-confidence, having you second guess your every attempt to begin this damnable career. 

You thought to quit it all and just accept being spoiled by Aegon. 

“Hey, pretty,” you heard Aegon coo and it returned your attention to the kitchen. He was rounding the counter and moving towards your spot; you worked here because the lighting was what you wanted and you appreciated how it overlooked the living room, where the curtains were drawn and allowed whatever sunshine was available to pour in. 

Aegon would crash onto the couch when he knew you were at the end of your workday and you liked looking up from your laptop screen, exchanging glances with him. 

“What’s going on?”

His arm wrapped around your shoulder and you allowed your head to fall to his chest; silent sobs of your budding frustration wracked your body. You felt him tuck you under his chin, wrapping both arms around you, with the whisper of, “Come on, sweet girl, I know you need to cry, but remember to breathe…” 

The tears eventually subsided and he pulled you from the counter, bringing you back to the couch. He pulled you into his lap and held onto you still, while he hummed one of the many songs he seemed to have on repeat in his mind; his singing, his musical talent was a newer habit he discovered during his rehabilitation and was something you adored, along with his sobriety. 

When he finished his chorus, you pulled back from his chest and he reached to grab your chin, turning your head to meet with his eyes. 

“Quit the fucking contract,” he repeated, time and time again. “I will pay you whatever they will pay you and you can stay right here in my lap, but, you know, without the tears. Perhaps lingerie instead? It would be purely professional, of course.” 

Your laughter felt groggy from your tears and he moved his large, warm palm to wipe your face dry. “Aeg,” your voice cracked, but you could not help your smile. “I’m gross.” 

“Yes, you are,” he agreed with a smirk, wiping his hand dry on his jeans and moving to your other cheek. “Quit these cunts, they do not deserve you.” 

“But…” and you faltered for a moment, realizing it was best to come clean with your true intention with the job. “But I also wanted this because I have a surprise for you.” 

He groaned, falling back into the couch and pulling you against his chest. “How many times must I tell you that I already have everything I want,” and he wrapped his arms tight around your waist, nuzzling into your neck. “Must you make me repeat the cliches? That your presence in my life is present enough? That you, pretty girl, are my gift?”

You giggled and squirmed from his hold, the stubble on his jawline tickling your neck. You pulled back to look into his beautiful eyes and his wide cheesy grin on display. “I know, but I wanted to something more, give you something you really want-”

“I am dead serious about my contract opening,” he dead-panned. “About the pay and the underwear.”

You looked at him, his smile so contagious, and leaned forward to capture his lips with your own. His fingers combed through your hair, holding the back of your head; his lips felt warm and soft against your own, his beard growth tickling still. You giggled and he moved to rub his face against your neck again, goosebumps rippling over you.

“But what about a puppy?”

He stopped his movement and pulled back to take you in. “That was the gift?” The excitement bubbled in his voice, his eyes bright as they looked over you. “You were really going to get me a puppy?” 

You nodded, smiling from his reaction. “Sara’s dog had a litter and I already paid all the fees, I have been getting the supplies, then we would go and pick you out a new furry friend…” 

His hands cupped your face and he pressed a kiss to your hairline, then tilted your head back to find your lips again; you melted against his chest. “This is why you have been working this shit job?” He pulled away, his tone accusing. “I have been absolutely heartsore watching you slave away for these ungrateful swines who cannot tell the difference between azure or cerulean-”

“...you couldn’t either when we first started dating,” you remind him with a grin. 

He held up a finger. “True, but if I hired a brilliant graphic designer, I would listen to your expertise and learn.” You blush and he sighed, pulling you against his chest for another hug and it was your turn to sigh, loving how well you fit against him.  

There was a moment of silence and he continued. “A dog is a big responsibility and I would need your help,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your neck. “I am also not a fan of the stress they have been causing you, your anxiety has been in overdrive since this contract keeps being extended…” 

You sighed again and he shifted his legs, catching your chin to bring your eyes to meet with his own. “I know you want this for your career and I will support whatever you choose,” he began, his eyes wide and watchful, the hint of a smirk to his lips. “I feel I must repeat myself and let you know I will happily fund you to be my perfect girl.” 

You cannot help but roll your eyes, but giggled knowing that he would actually pay you to be a homebody, if it meant he got to be around you all the time. 

The evening was spent with your laptop off, your notifications muted, and cuddled up with Aegon while watching some TV show you had been binging together. There is comfort being curled up, a pleasant warmth shared that inevitably lulls Aegon to sleep and you listen to his soft snores. 

You were careful to pull away, creeping towards your laptop and reading the emails missed; not one included a thank you for your effort shown thus far, or any indication that your supposed contract would be over any time soon. Rubbing your eyes as if it would wipe away your frustration, you decided you had enough, that there were other jobs, other opportunities, and you didn’t deserve to be treated like this. 

After pressing send on your resignation email, you slammed your laptop shut and felt a mixture of relief and worry wash over you. The sound caused Aegon to stir, his sleepy eyes barely open. “Babe?” he sounded confused, almost delirious. 

“After careful consideration I have decided to accept your offer,” you joked, doing your best to mark the worry that brimmed beneath.

Aegon smiles, your words registering and waking him up. “Wonderful,” he breathed, pulling you in and sprinkling kisses over your face. “We start tomorrow with picking up our puppy,” and he giggled in a way that made your heart swell in your chest. “Then, we have to pick out a uniform…”

You giggled and grinned with how he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows, feeling a sense of relief washing over you and letting you know that you made the right decision; you could trust that, together, you would figure it out.

Arcie’s Masterlist // modern Aegon Targaryen masterlist

#mordern au hotd #aegon targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii fanfiction #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #this is just fluff #modern aegon targaryen

[raginginkedslut]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕒��𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕘

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

This is my first fic everyone so please feel free to give advice, this will be a series, I hope you enjoy 💕

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Warnings: slight mentions of mental abuse if you squint, infidelity.

Daddy Elvis in the 70s

Although there is no smut (yet) this is not appropriate for minors so if you are under 18 do not read!! 🔞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Chapter 1: Drinks on me

After leaving your ex fiancé for cheating you find yourself at a dead end job, saving for a way out until you meet Elvis, he is persistent to take you out and you agree but will it end in romance,lust and passion or Hate,Heartbreak and Tears?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The Memphis air was hot, unreasonably so, you were used to it being hot but this was something else, you had been working all day at the diner you’d been at for the past few weeks, you’d been saving up to get your own place and move out from the apartment you shared with your ex fiancé, things had ended horribly when you walked in on him on top of some floozy he met at the club he did security for, now it wasn’t the best paying but it was better than nothing,

You where just cleaning the last table before the end of your shift when the door swung open and a group of men came in laughing and joking, you sighed as your boss gave you a look pleading you to serve this last group, you put on your best customer service smile walking over to the table, as your eyes saw a familiar face in the group beautiful black locks slicked back with a few strands falling down his forehead and big sideburns trailing down the sides of his face, the bridge of his nose held black sunglasses with gold frames, you froze realising why he was so familiar, Elvis god damn Presley you thought, you realised you had been stood there slack jawed for a little longer than you had hoped, before you could speak Elvis piped up “you okay there…” he hesitated bringing his sunglasses down to read your name badge “y/n?” You snapped out of your trance, “sorry sir, what can I get you fellas” he chuckled “I’ll have a Pepsi darling” you blushing at this pet name, his cronies gave you there drink orders not ordering any food and you walked to make everyone’s drinks, you could here laughing and joking but as you looked up Elvis wasn’t engaging, he was just sat staring at you, feeling those pools of blue burning into your skin, his mouth turned up into a wink smile, you rush over red faced with the drinks, “anything else I can get yous” one of the pals perks up and teases “ your number would be nice baby” looking embarrassed Elvis rumbled and glared at the man quickly shutting him up “ that’s all for now doll” he purred at you, causing you to smile as you walked away.

after a little while longer they finished up there drinks.

Getting ready to go leaving there money on the table, the men began piling out of the diner until it was only that tall Adonis of a man, now, he was significantly older than you and didn’t look how he used to, looking his age a bit now but that’s how you liked him, a little chunkier, those sideburns, those gold adorned fingers , everything about him made you mad “hey darling” you snap back once again staring at him for too long “yes sir “ you replied with a shy smile “sir?…” he groaned “that makes me sound old honey” he then chuckled lightly “guess I am, well I was wondering if you wanna go out for a drink sometime” he spoke hopefully you looked up at him and sighed “ I can’t I’m…” before you can finish you see the disappointment in his face “ oh it’s fine honey I’m probably to old for ya any way” he tried to deflect his embarrassment with a laugh, you grew closer, closing up the gap between you whispering slightly “ it’s not that i don’t want to, because trust me, I couldn’t think of anything I’d want more” he smirked at you “then why doll” he closes the gap even more “ I’ve just broken up with my fiancé not long back and I’m trying to get out, I can’t be getting myself tangled up in a mess when I’m just getting out of one” you see a sense of relief on his face knowing that you do want to see him again “you can come live with me” he half joked “only if there’s enough room” you chuckled back his face then lit up “ d’ya know what, i might just have enough room for you “ you giggled putting your hand on his shoulder“ look, get off work in 5 mins, think you could wait for me then we can have that drink” he grinned a crooked smile, you wagged your finger at him and semi sternly “ nothin too serious though “ he laughed and put his hands up in defence “ I’ll try, but I can’t help it if you fall for me” you bite your cheek to stop a smile forming on your face , going to turn back around it hits you and you grumble “ I have to go back to my apartment and get changed “ realising you where a sloppy mess from your shift “ ah no worries darlin, I’ll just come with ya” you looked at him and grimaced “ I don’t think that’s a good idea, a still live with my ex fiancé “ he laughed “ yeah ex… don’t matter none I won’t embarrass ya” you sighed grabbing your purse “ it’s not that it’s just…he’s a bit of a fan, he’s loved your music since he was young” your face looking saddened, Elvis saw this and pushed his finger gently under your chin to look at him “ he hurt you baby doll?” He questioned, you tried holding back tears as one escaped, that was all he needed, a wicked smile crossed his face “ all the more reason to make him jealous y/n baby “ you looked up at him and smiled wiping away the lone tear “ okay…”

You linked arms as he escorts you to his sleek black car, opening the door for you, the drive was nice, filled with chatting and laughing after a while you sighed, “ it’s just here “ he pull into the carpark of your apartment block, you brace yourself and get out of the car, he smiles reassuringly at you, this does little to comfort you as you open the door , your ex sat there cigarette in mouth, young blonde floozy on arm he starts to speak as he notices you come in “y/n you get my smokes” you hiss “ no you didn’t give me the money “ he grimaces at you “you’re such a bitch that’s why I left you…” his words trail off into mumbles as Elvis walks in glaring into your exs soul “ that ain’t no way to be treating a woman” he growled, your ex stood up standing there in shock and disbelief for just a moment when the excitement hit “god damn you…you’re Elvis Presley!” He put his hand out to shake Elvis’s looking down at his hand in disgust he replied “ last time I checked” he put his hand down hiding the embarrassment, “baby” he nudges the young blonde “ this is the singer I was showing you “ she looks up and is not fazed, she was far too young to know exactly the impact Elvis made on the world , looking back down at her magazine your ex introduces himself “ I’m Ronnie it’s such a pleasure to meet you, what’re you doing here “ Elvis smirks and looks down at you , wrapping his thick arms around your waist, “ just waitin for m’girl to get ready so I can take her out” Ronnie’s face drops “ your girl?” Elvis pulls you closer, you blush as he spits l” yeah you got a problem with that boy” he shakes his head “ n…no Elvis…it’s just she….” He gets cut off as Elvis interrupts “ it’s Mr Presley to you, and she what, hm, you two still together?” Ronnie mumbles “no mr Presley” Elvis smirks “ right well then, my girl will be getting ready” you looked at him and smiled.

You ran to your drawers and picked out a cute little number a short cut pink dress and pink kitten heels you fixed your hair and makeup before making your way back to Elvis “are you ready to go” you mewled at him “yeah baby let’s go “ his hand travelling to the arch of your back, leading you to the door “what time will you be back” Ronnie shouts “ Elvis whips his head round “ I don’t think that’s any of your business boy ,but since you asked, she won’t be “ you smile as he guides you out shutting the door behind you.

You look up at him and gently peck him on the cheek”

How funny, sticking up for you to your ex and making him sweat

How cute, calling you his girl and making you feel safe

How hot, claiming you as his own…..and you were, you just didn’t know it yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Thank you so much for reading I hope you liked this!, if you want to be added to the tag list for the next chapter lmk!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

#elvis fans #elvis #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis smut #elvis imagine #70s elvis #elvis x reader #daddy elvis #elvis fic #fanfiction

[jointpainfaggot]

I hate working so much. Just. Doing the same shit for eight to ten hours every day with a shitty 40 - 60 minute break and for what? So i can barely affort to live? So that the bank thinks I’m responsible enough to go into debt for thirty years so i can buy a shitty house? So i can be told I’m not gonna get a raise because I’m not passionate enough about customer service? So i can be told by a doctor that im no burned out I’m just unfulfilled because i don’t have children and also my biological clock is ticking? What misery

#dear god. it’s me. #what the fuck #anti work #anti capitalism

[gainingfiction]

Lifetime Supply: Chapter 1

That’s right: gainerstories and I are back at it again with another big, fat collaboration. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Ryan, a svelte computer science major, thinks he’s hit the jackpot when he wins a lifetime supply of snacks. Turns out there’s no such thing as a free lunch... or free snacks, for that matter.

~

“You’re not gonna eat all those, are you?”

“I will unless you plan on helping,” Ryan said. He turned to face his roommate, who was still sweaty from his trip to the gym. Ahmed just shook his head and stepped into the bathroom. When Ryan heard the shower running, he unfolded the letter at the top of the box.

We take our commitments to customers seriously. So when we promise you a “lifetime supply”, we really mean it. How much we send will depend on your feedback, and our customer service team is happy to listen. Adesco is passionate about….

Ryan smirked and put the letter aside. They must have spent a lot on marketing. When he entered the stupid competition advertised on the inside of a candy wrapper, he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. So when he won a lifetime supply of the company’s snack foods he was more than a little surprised. He was even more surprised when he returned home two weeks after the win to find a large cardboard box on his doorstep.

Inside were products he knew (chocolate bars, pretzels, popular snack cookies) but also products he had never bought before, like mini donuts and snack cakes with fruit fillings. With a shrug, he opened one of the lemon cakes and took a bite. Pleased with the result, he grabbed another pack and put his feet up on the coffee table.

Ryan opened his laptop. He mostly did freelance jobs, which he preferred to a more traditional set-up. He decided to work on a few projects he had been meaning to finish up. By the end of the afternoon, he realized that his stomach was hurting. Looking around, he saw that the couch was strewn with wrappers. Once he had gotten into a groove, he just kept eating snacks out of the box without even thinking. Realizing the mess he had made, he gathered up the wrappers and tried to toss them in the trash before Ahmed could see.

Except his roommate was already waiting in the kitchen as Ryan approached garbage with handfuls of plastic. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about eating all those,” Ahmed said, arching an eyebrow. “I was just about to head to the library. I have a bunch of school stuff due way too soon.”

Ryan saw Ahmed off, and then thought about what to do with himself. He had been wondering that a lot since his ex, Jason, had broken things off a few weeks earlier. Jason hated being at home, and so the two were always out getting coffee, jogging, or shopping downtown. Before they had met in college, Ryan had felt at ease doing nothing, but that was a side of himself he had pushed aside for a couple of years now. Since Jason fled to Europe with his “yoga buddy”, Ryan had a lot more downtime on his hands.

Where in the past he might have gone for a jog, Ryan decided to say “fuck it” and fire up some porn. Since he had the place to himself, he decided to really go for it, stripping off his clothes in the middle of the living room. After finishing, Ryan cleaned himself up, realizing he had room for another snack cake. Sighing contentedly, he opened up a fresh box.

Two weeks later, when Ryan returned from a cafe where he had been working, he was surprised to see another large cardboard box sitting in front of his house. He brought it inside and placed it on the floor of his bedroom. He was still only about halfway through the last box, and he already felt like he was snacking more than he should have been. He usually couldn’t afford to have so much food just lying around.

Ryan took out a pair of scissors and opened the new box. Amid new and familiar snack packages, he removed another letter. This one was a survey, listing products and asking him to rank them based on his preference. There were other questions about his usual snack choices, flavours he liked most, and his satisfaction with the quantity and variety in the boxes. At the bottom, there was a phone number with a note: If you have any questions, please contact your Adesco customer service representative, Luke!

Sighing, Ryan decided to crack open a bag of pretzels. Who knew that winning a contest could be so much work?

#weight gain #male weight gain #gay #weight gain story #wg story #realistic gain #gaining fiction #belly #bhm #lifetime supply

[nohoperadio]

The date for my annual performance review at work has been set for one month from today. The review day itself is not a big source of stress, it's the management's opinion that I'm good at my job, it's a mildly awkward thing to go through but it's very unlikely to "go badly" on the day.

However!

I gotta fill out the paperwork first, which consists of seven pages, each page representing one of the abstract work virtues ("teamwork", "initiative", "customer service" etc), and for each of these I have to write 3+ concrete examples of things I did over the past year that exemplify that virtue, followed by a description of how each thing I did impacted the business, followed by explaining what lesson I took from each thing.

This is a chore that combines several things I hate hate hate and am bad bad bad at:

homework (the paperwork doesn't have to be done at home, you can schedule work time to do it and this is considered fine, but this doesn't work for me at all for reasons we'll get to in a bit), I'm not even good at structuring my free time when the only things I'm trying to fit into my schedule are nice things I enjoy doing, let alone this

bullshitting, the whole thing is premised on an abstract dreamt-up-by-HR model of how people's jobs work that bears so little relation to reality that it's basically impossible to complete the form without a lot of bullshitting. You have to take utterly mundane and routine moments from your job that don't mean anything and write them up in a way that emphasizes how brilliant and special and passionate you are; also because they ask for an absurdly large amount of examples, you find you spend a lot of time and mental effort figuring out how to reword stuff you've already written elsewhere in such a way that it's not too obvious you're repeating yourself. I am extremely averse to bullshitting to an extent that I fully acknowledge is irrational and unhealthy but I don't seem to be able to do much about it: at uni I would occasionally miss deadlines because I couldn't figure out what my actual opinions were about the thing the essay was about, and I couldn't bring myself to just write an essay endorsing a conclusion I wasn't sure about. I hope that doesn't come across as even slightly a boast, there is no virtue there, it's an extremely fucking stupid attitude to have, I knew that at the time but I couldn't seem to change it. And I'm still kind of like that unfortunately, I can write bullshit but it feels horrendous and takes a ton of will power and progress will be comically slow.

expressing positive sentiments about myself, this one's self-explanatory I think

The result of these points is that I find writing these things so emotionally draining that it often takes like literal hours of psyching myself up/calming myself down just to find the right state of mind where I can even get started, and then often that leads to like, two or three bullet points worth of progress and then I'm exhausted. If this sounds dumb to you, well, yeah. That's why I can't realistically do it during work time, what am I gonna do request a whole day's worth of time and then produce like 30 words by the end of it? I'm not doing that. On top of these setbacks resulting from my unfortunate personality, there's also the fact that my particular role is quite different from most people's in the company but I still have to fill out the same standard form as everyone else, e.g. I rarely deal directly with customers so I have to really reach to argue that stuff I'm doing counts as "customer service", there's a lot of that kind of thing.

I'm not sure if I'm really conveying what I find horrible about this very well, but basically it's: 1] a lot of work, which 2] relies on skills I am extremely weak on and 3] aggravates my weird neuroses in various ways, and all the while 4] the whole thing is manifestly pointless and dumb. That's a recipe for aaaaaaaaaaaaa. If this year goes like the previous two years, I'll spend the weeks leading up to it feeling guilty and panicky for a significant portion of every day and doing that thing where I procrastinate the productive task constantly while not being able to really enjoy the things I'm using as procrastination either; I'll make ludicrously small amounts of progress on a handful of good days, but ultimately somehow force my way through most of it all in one go just before the deadline.

Maybe it won't be like that this time. My general being-a-person competence has been improving year on year for the past several, maybe this is the year I only moderately suck at this type of task. I shall let that sentiment have the last word here, not because it's especially plausible but because it feels virtuous to do so.

(I feel like it would be unjust to write this post and fail to say: I like my job. A lot! It's nothing very glamorous, I work in a bookshop and get paid marginally more than minimum wage, but: I find the work satisfying, I virtually never have the "ugh I can't wait till I can go home" feeling, and there's a small number of people there who I like very much and who like me in return. All three of those are things I literally could not conceive of being true of any job before I started here; when I said above that my being-a-person competence has improved the past few years, my job is a huge part of that. I have more positive feelings towards my work than a lot of people ever get to experience and I feel lucky for that. But this one particular aspect of it which comes once a year always kind of ruins my life for the better part of a month and I really wish it didn't exist.)

#uninteresting #and a bit too long #I put the readmore there because I respect your valuable time #this one's only for the hardcore ventpost fans

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hello,

I remember one of your posts about how you said you loved your job. I’m 18 and I’m sooooo lost on what I want to do for a job. So I was wondering what you do for a living and how you were able to figure that out.

(feel free to not respond btw I know this is personal :P)

This is a little hard for me to answer since my first two jobs was me working in customer service. I went to collage for medicine then dropped out once I received my associates.

To be honest, I got lucky landing the job that I did. I now work at factory that creates medical filters and me loving my job factors in the people I work with and the supervisors I have.

I applied to places but my advice is going into a job that suits your passion and never stay at a place that makes you miserable.

I did it and it was horrible, it took a toll on my mental health, I was not doing good health wise { I was forcing my body to make it's self sick so I wouldn't go into work }

I was getting verbally assaulted at both jobs while getting sexually harassed at the other with my boss telling me to suck it up and smile.

I hated myself.

You come before any job, your health becomes before any job. I know it's hard to even find jobs but never force yourself to stay in a place that makes you miserable.

[paintedgrilledcheese]

The DOA/RITHOTD preschool au!!!

(Writing this because I feel inspired ✨️)

These are the "rules"/"world building" of this au and fun facts about it. I might write an actual story story of this one day. Anyways, the setup:

Ivan is the teacher.

Members of the DOA & RITHOTD are the students/children (ages 3 to 5). This includes Fyodor (5), Nikolai (5), Sigma (3), Bram (???), Nathaniel (5), Mushitaro (4), & Pushkin (4). Expect Fukuchi because of bias.

Surprisingly, most days at the preschool aren't too chaotic. Though wildness is bound to happen.

Sigma is the youngest. He's a little shy, but he is PASSIONATE about playing pretend. If they were playing pretend restaurant, he would be the manager dashing around the room and making sure that the customers in his pretend restaurant are satisfied with the service.

Sigma also likes story time and snack time.

Fyodor is more mature. He likes to read by himself a lot, but he will still interact with the other kids. He is the intelligence of the group, so doing stupid stuff is less likely to happen.

When playing pretend castle or kingdoms, just like Sigma, Fyodor will become passionate about the game. Make him king of this pretend kingdom, and he will become a dictating ruler.

Nikolai is more silly and hyperactive. He can't sit still for long, always making jokes or messing around with his classmates. He's outgoing, and chaos is more likely to happen from him.

Nikolai hates nap time, but after being given a second snack from Ivan, he might go down.

Bram, on the other hand, loves nap time. The moment Ivan pulls out those nap time mats from the closet, he's already knocked out. (Feel free to add some suggestions for Bram because I don't know his character well)

Pushkin is sorta chaotic like Nikolai. He will mess with the others by chasing them around with bugs (Sigma doesn't like it). During recess, he has a fascination with collecting bugs.

Nathaniel, he's sorta of the same as Fyodor, mostly likes to read, and he's on the more quieter side.

Nathaniel likes the swings because he gets to swing with Margaret, who is in a different class.

Mushitaro is either very well-behaved or very mischievous, depending on the mood of the day. Sometimes, when Ivan has his backed turn, Mushitaro will probably do something he isn't supposed to do before acting all innocent and well-behaved when Ivan turns back around.

Mushitaro also loves story time. It can be Ivan reading to the classroom or his friend Yokomizo during recess since they're in separate classes as well.

#Bsd au #Ivan Goncharov #Fyodor Dostoesky #Nikolai Gogol #Sigma Bsd #Nathaniel Hawthorne #Bram Stoker Bsd #Mushitaro bsd #Pushkin bsd #Took me a hour to write #Bsd Preschool Au

[x-ladyathena-x]

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: smoking/drinking, language, sad!tommy, Thomas Shelby needs a hug, vulnerable Tommy Shelby, PTSD episode, angst, fluff, comfort

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: When your family’s pub is in danger of being overtaken by the Peaky Blinders, you’ll do anything to keep your family’s welfare intact, even marry your worst enemy. As passions and tempers run high, you realize that you might not hate Mr. Shelby as much as you think you do. There are NO spoilers for the show in this fic, don't worry!

Note: Season 6 of Peaky Blinders has FINALLY hit netflix(US) and I am so excited! To celebrate I made this sweet, angsty, comforting little oneshot. Enjoy!!!

the title of this piece is a quote by George Santayana (1922) —although some accredit it’s origin to Plato, but that’s a whole can of worms I’m not opening here—Santayana said this, referring to the slaughter that was WWI, meaning: because of human nature, peace will always be finite. Since our boy, Tommy Shelby left France with nothing to show but ghosts en tow, I figured this title was appropriate.

“Another!”

You ignored the slurred drunken voice of the man seated at the bar behind you.

He pounded his drinking glass against the bar top so hard, you were surprised it didn’t shatter. “Girl! I said another,” The man yelled at your back. “What are you? Fuckin’ deaf?” He grumbled, but was interrupted.

“Arthur,” a deep steady voice cautioned, “that’s enough.”

You froze. He was back. Thomas Shelby… head of the infamous crime syndicate, The Peaky Blinders.

“Please forgive my brother,” the gravelly voice said, “he doesn’t always use his manners.”

“Fuck you Tommy,” Arthur slurred.

You glanced over your shoulder, and looked back to Tommy, indicating that you’d heard him. Still, you didn’t say anything and went back to pretending to polish glasses behind the bar.

The sound of a barstool raking across the wooden floor made you grit your teeth. Tommy was sitting down. Now you had two Shelby brothers seated at your bar. One Shelby brother was enough to run out all your good paying customers, the respectable ones at least, but two Shelby brothers would ensure that nobody at all respectable would stop in for the rest of the day.

“Don’t even bother sitting down, brother,” Arthur began, and you heard him rake his glass across the bar, picking it up, “the service here is shit,” and he threw his lowball glass full force into the mirror back of your bar.

The mirror shattered everywhere. It cut your hands as the pieces fell. You were enraged at the blatant disrespect of your property and reached for the pistol hidden under the bar and pointed the barrel at the eldest Shelby brother.

Arthur never flinched, but Tommy was on his feet in no time.

“Let’s take it easy, yeah?” Tommy calmly said to you, “don’t need to be shooting anyone today.”

At that moment, your father entered the room. His face was that of shock and panic, seeing you threatening a member of Birmingham’s most notorious gang at gun point. The next few moments were a bit blurry, but they involved your father disarming you, scalding you, and then locking you in the back room.

You spent an unknown amount of time picking at the lock to the store room with no luck. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours, and when it finally opened, you saw your father standing there with his hands on his hips.

“We need to talk.” He said. But he wasn’t angry. He sounded grief stricken, sick, and nervous.

The two of you walked back into the pub, which was empty now. He went and locked the front door and turned the open sign to closed.

“What’s going on?” You asked, growing more nervous.

Your father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “they’re taking over the pub. They want to make it another one of their family businesses.”

Anger flooded you, “no. They can’t do that, they can’t kick us out onto the street, they can’t just take it from us without paying. where will we go?”

Before you finished talking, your father had already begun to shake his head, “they don’t wanna kick us out. And they’re not planning to just take it.”

Your brows furrowed, “what? But you said they want to make it a family business. Are they paying you to buy it?”

“The pub will be your dowry,” he said without meeting your eyes.

You laughed, still confused, “my dowry? But I’m not engaged.”

“You are now,” your father said gravely, “to Thomas Shelby.”

———————

You spent the better part of the next three days sulking. Still, you tended to your bar keeping duties, like the dutiful daughter you were but inwardly, you were angry.

In all honesty, you didn’t blame your father. They’d have probably shot him on the spot and taken you and the pub anyway, had he refused them. No, your anger and hatred was aimed at Thomas Shelby.

The bell at the door tinkled and you looked up to see who entered… speak of the devil.

It was morning still, so you hadn’t fully opened for the day yet. It was just the two of you.

Tommy leaned against the bar in his effortlessly casual manner. You ignored him as you set up chairs and buffed tables with a rag, getting ready for the impending after work crowd. He didn’t speak, he just watched you with his ice blue eyes.

“Can I help you with something, Mr. Shelby?” You said to him when you could ignore him no longer, “we’re not open yet.”

He pulled a cigarette from the inside of his coat, and ran it over his plump lips before placing it between them and lightning it. You gripped the rag in your hand tightly as you watched the action. You were annoyed with yourself for how disarmingly handsome you found him.

“Just came in here to get a better look at my property.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke in a huff

You hated this man.

You walked around the table you’d been cleaning to better face him and crossed your arms, “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you mean the pub, and not your newly betrothed.” You said with as much venom as you could muster.

He took another drag of his cigarette, “no, Love. I mean you.”

You felt your face get hot with anger, but you couldn’t speak. His calm gaze never left your face, which infuriated you further.

Tommy blew out a cloud of smoke, “I mean no offense. Just business.” He snubbed out the cigarette in one of the ash trays on the bar top and turned to walk away.

You watched him go, and if it weren’t for the love of your family and the fear for their safety, you’d have lobbed the nearest chair at the back of his head.

He paused before opening the door to leave and looked over his shoulder back at you, “For the record, I consider myself the real winner in this deal.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help yourself. Damn your sharp tongue, “pretty barmaids are a dime a dozen. Why not go solicit one of them if you are that desperate to fuck someone over.”

You could’ve sworn you saw the ghost of a smile dance over his lips before he stilled his expression. Tommy crossed the floor and over to where you stood in just a couple quick strides.

He never touched you but had you moved even a hair’s width, you’d have brushed noses with him. Your senses were engulfed with him. The tang of sweat and gunpowder mixed with the sooty air outside and his cigarette still on his breath filled your nose. He could kill you right now for disrespecting him if he wanted to. You’d heard stories of him killing men for less.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he said in his deep velvety voice.

“No,” you said, your anger still speaking for you, “you’re worse.”

“Hmm,” he hummed a laugh, “maybe so. And maybe,” he leaned closer, brushing passed your nose. You felt his lips barely brush against yours as he spoke, “maybe you’ll find out soon enough.”

The absence of his warmth made you open your eyes. You didn’t even remember closing them. You licked your lips involuntarily as you stood there and watched him walk out of the pub and back onto to street, closing the door behind him.

You breathed out a heavy sigh and felt your stomach flutter and hated Tommy Shelby even more.

—————

All night, as you worked, you felt Tommy Shelby’s eyes on you, no matter how you tried to ignore him. He ordered a whole bottle of whiskey through the window of his private “meeting” room and if you had to guess, he wasn’t in a sharing mood, so the bottle was for him alone.

The crowd was a rowdy one tonight, spurred on by the Shelby brothers and all the type of people they attracted. Your feet ached and so did your back, you’d be glad when the night was over and you could finally crawl into bed.

The hours waned and the crowd thinned until the last customer left and your pub was empty. You were about to begin sweeping the floors when you heard a noise from the Shelby’s private room.

You pushed open the door to the room and heard the clink of a bottle on the floor. You picked it up. Empty.

Just as you were thinking the wind had blown it down, you heard something stir from the bench seat against the wall.

Through the dim light, you were able to make out the outline of a pair of shoulders and a back. Someone was asleep on the bench. Passed out, from the night’s drinking.

You looked down at the bottle in your hand and saw the unmistakable label of the whiskey you’d given to Tommy Shelby earlier in the evening. You considered leaving him and shutting the door behind you, he wasn’t your problem. But something stopped you.

You heard the tiniest whine escape his lips in his sleep.

“No,” he whimpered quietly, followed by a resounding “NO!” he called out as he began to thrash, “they’re coming.”

Your indifference to him faded and was quickly replaced with concern.

Your father had explained to you a while ago about the ghosts that the men brought back with them from the war.

You remembered seeing the previously bright, alive eyes of old, regular customers return as hollow and dim. They drank a little more deeply from their bottles than they did before and carried an air of somber sorrow that was hard to put into words but you knew it when you saw it.

Or, rather, you felt it.

This is how it felt as you watched the man before you, lying vulnerable while the ghosts he carried with him reared their ugly faces.

You walked over to him, tentative to touch him in his panic.

“Thomas,” you whispered gently, “Thomas.”

You reached out your hand to touch him. He wrapped his hand around your wrist and gripped it tight. He stared at you with blank eyes before rolling off the bench and collapsing onto the floor, his entire body heaved with sobs.

You didn’t know what to do, so you sat down on the floor beside him and wrapped him in your arms. You held him for a long time, held him until he finally stilled. All the while, he clutched onto you for dear life.

————

The next morning came too early. You arose for your daily chores and opening tasks for the pub but last nights events still weighed heavily on your mind.

You were lost in your own head while cleaning the bar top until the sound of someone clearing their throat made you look up.

It was Tommy.

He stood with his usual formal, commanding posture and lit a cigarette before he began speaking, “I uh, wanted to apologize for my behavior last night.” He took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled the smoke, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shook your head and looked back down at the bar as you absentmindedly buffed it, “Nothing to apologize for, Mr. Shelby.”

“Please, call me Thomas,” he hesitated for a moment, “I rather liked hearing you call me Thomas last night.” He looked up at you with his striking blue eyes but he didn’t look as harsh as the previous encounters you’d had. There was a softness there as he looked onto you.

You felt your cheeks flush and looked down.

He chuckled, “It’s that easy to fluster you, is it?”

He put out his cigarette and looked up at you, “thank you for being so kind to me, last night. Even though people like me don’t deserve it.” He turned to walk away.

You found your voice, “why?”

He paused but didn’t turn to face you, “why what, Love.”

You ignored the pet name and didn’t let it deter you, “why don’t you feel you deserve kindness?”

He laughed under his breath and turned around, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. He looked amused, “You said it yourself, I’m the worst kind of lowlife.”

“I didn’t call you a lowlife,” you countered. Though, you did call him the worst, you thought guilty to yourself.

“You didn’t have to, but it’s what you meant.” He took a step toward you until the bar top stopped him from walking any closer, “and i am.”

Your heart hammered in your chest.

His eyes flickered from your wide eyes down to your lips, “if this bar weren’t here, I’d have already shown you what kind of lowlife I am.”

You ground your teeth at the hollow threat, “don’t act like the bar top is stopping you. You’re not the act you portray in the streets: Thomas Shelby, the notorious gangster, taking what he wants.” You could feel your confidence growing with every word you spoke, “I saw the real Thomas Shelby last night. Your heart bleeds just like every other poor soul that returned from France. You’re not a hardened criminal, you’re just a man, a broken one, that’s too stubborn to ask for what he wants. You’ve gotta make a big show about taking what you want: the pub, and me.” You emphasized the last word.

You realized too late that you’d overstepped an unspoken boundary. Tommy smashed his fist on the bar and made you jump. But you maintained your ground.

You thought he was going to yell, you were surprised he didn’t leap over the bar. But he just stood there soaking in your words until he could hold your gaze no longer.

He wilted under your unwavering confidence, “Yeah, Love, you did.” He conceded,” You did see the real me.” He hesitated, “I just hoped that you wouldn’t have to see it so soon. I had hoped that I’d be able to win you over before scaring you away with all that.”

There was a tense silence in the room as Tommy stood there, allowing his true self to be revealed to you. A true act of vulnerability. His darkness laid bare for you to either accept or judge.

After a moment he spoke again, “I’m gonna be a good husband to you.” His beautiful eyes locked onto yours, “I’ll treat ya right. No, i’m not perfect but I swear to always do right by you.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand. You gave it a light squeeze, “I know you will.”

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby x reader #sad!tommy shelby #angst #fluff #comfort #x ladyathena x #only the dead have seen the end of war #the peaky blinders