#chicago pile 1

[lindahall]

Chicago Pile 1 (CP-1) – Scientist of the Day

Exactly 80 years ago today, on Dec. 2, 1942, at precisely 3:25 PM, the final control rod was removed from a pile of graphite blocks laced with uranium, hidden beneath the stands of old Stagg Field at the University of Chicago, and the world’s first man-made, self-sustained nuclear reaction began.  

read more...

#Chicago Pile 1 #CP-1 #Enrico Fermi #Manhattan project #histsci #histSTM #20th century #history of science #Ashworth #Scientist of the Day

[mostlysignssomeportents]

No, Uber's (still) not profitable

Going to Defcon this weekend? I'm giving a keynote, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse," on Saturday at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

Bezzle (n): 1. "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it" (JK Gabraith) 2. Uber.

Uber was, is, and always will be a bezzle. There are just intrinsic limitations to the profits available to operating a taxi fleet, even if you can misclassify your employees as contractors and steal their wages, even as you force them to bear the cost of buying and maintaining your taxis.

The magic of early Uber – when taxi rides were incredibly cheap, and there were always cars available, and drivers made generous livings behind the wheel – wasn't magic at all. It was just predatory pricing.

Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar they brought in, lighting $33b of its investors' cash on fire. Most of that money came from the Saudi royals, funneled through Softbank, who brought you such bezzles as WeWork – a boring real-estate company masquerading as a high-growth tech company, just as Uber was a boring taxi company masquerading as a tech company.

Predatory pricing used to be illegal, but Chicago School economists convinced judges to stop enforcing the law on the grounds that predatory pricing was impossible because no rational actor would choose to lose money. They (willfully) ignored the obvious possibility that a VC fund could invest in a money-losing business and use predatory pricing to convince retail investors that a pile of shit of sufficient size must have a pony under it somewhere.

This venture predation let investors – like Prince Bone Saw – cash out to suckers, leaving behind a money-losing business that had to invent ever-sweatier accounting tricks and implausible narratives to keep the suckers on the line while they blew town. A bezzle, in other words:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber is a true bezzle innovator, coming up with all kinds of fairy tales and sci-fi gimmicks to explain how they would convert their money-loser into a profitable business. They spent $2.5b on self-driving cars, producing a vehicle whose mean distance between fatal crashes was half a mile. Then they paid another company $400 million to take this self-licking ice-cream cone off their hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Amazingly, self-driving cars were among the more plausible of Uber's plans. They pissed away hundreds of millions on California's Proposition 22 to institutionalize worker misclassification, only to have the rule struck down because they couldn't be bothered to draft it properly. Then they did it again in Massachusetts:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/15/simple-as-abc/#a-big-ask

Remember when Uber was going to plug the holes in its balance sheet with flying cars? Flying cars! Maybe they were just trying to soften us up for their IPO, where they advised investors that the only way they'd ever be profitable is if they could replace every train, bus and tram ride in the world:

https://48hills.org/2019/05/ubers-plans-include-attacking-public-transit/

Honestly, the only way that seems remotely plausible is when it's put next to flying cars for comparison. I guess we can be grateful that they never promised us jetpacks, or, you know, teleportation. Just imagine the market opportunity they could have ascribed to astral projection!

Narrative capitalism has its limits. Once Uber went public, it had to produce financial disclosures that showed the line going up, lest the bezzle come to an end. These balance-sheet tricks were as varied as they were transparent, but the financial press kept falling for them, serving as dutiful stenographers for a string of triumphant press-releases announcing Uber's long-delayed entry into the league of companies that don't lose more money every single day.

One person Uber has never fooled is Hubert Horan, a transportation analyst with decades of experience who's had Uber's number since the very start, and who has done yeoman service puncturing every one of these financial "disclosures," methodically sifting through the pile of shit to prove that there is no pony hiding in it.

In 2021, Horan showed how Uber had burned through nearly all of its cash reserves, signaling an end to its subsidy for drivers and rides, which would also inevitably end the bezzle:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/10/unter/#bezzle-no-more

In mid, 2022, Horan showed how the "profit" Uber trumpeted came from selling off failed companies it had acquired to other dying rideshare companies, which paid in their own grossly inflated stock:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/05/a-lousy-taxi/#a-giant-asterisk

At the end of 2022, Horan showed how Uber invented a made-up, nonstandard metric, called "EBITDA profitability," which allowed them to lose billions and still declare themselves to be profitable, a lie that would have been obvious if they'd reported their earnings using Generally Accepted Accounting Principles (GAAP):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Like clockwork, Uber has just announced – once again – that it is profitable, and once again, the press has credulously repeated the claim. So once again, Horan has published one of his magisterial debunkings on Naked Capitalism:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2023/08/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-thirty-three-uber-isnt-really-profitable-yet-but-is-getting-closer-the-antitrust-case-against-uber.html

Uber's $394m gains this quarter come from paper gains to untradable shares in its loss-making rivals – Didi, Grab, Aurora – who swapped stock with Uber in exchange for Uber's own loss-making overseas divisions. Yes, it's that stupid: Uber holds shares in dying companies that no one wants to buy. It declared those shares to have gained value, and on that basis, reported a profit.

Truly, any big number multiplied by an imaginary number can be turned into an even bigger number.

Now, Uber also reported "margin improvements" – that is, it says that it loses less on every journey. But it didn't explain how it made those improvements. But we know how the company did it: they made rides more expensive and cut the pay to their drivers. A 2.9m ride in Manhattan is now $50 – if you get a bargain! The base price is more like $70:

https://www.wired.com/story/uber-ceo-will-always-say-his-company-sucks/

The number of Uber drivers on the road has a direct relationship to the pay Uber offers those drivers. But that pay has been steeply declining, and with it, the availability of Ubers. A couple weeks ago, I found myself at the Burbank train station unable to get an Uber at all, with the app timing out repeatedly and announcing "no drivers available."

Normally, you can get a yellow taxi at the station, but years of Uber's predatory pricing has caused a drawdown of the local taxi-fleet, so there were no taxis available at the cab-rank or by dispatch. It took me an hour to get a cab home. Uber's bezzle destroyed local taxis and local transit – and replaced them with worse taxis that cost more.

Uber won't say why its margins are improving, but it can't be coming from scale. Before the pandemic, Uber had far more rides, and worse margins. Uber has diseconomies of scale: when you lose money on every ride, adding more rides increases your losses, not your profits.

Meanwhile, Lyft – Uber's also-ran competitor – saw its margins worsen over the same period. Lyft has always been worse at lying about it finances than Uber, but it is in essentially the exact same business (right down to the drivers and cars – many drivers have both apps on their phones). So Lyft's financials offer a good peek at Uber's true earnings picture.

Lyft is actually slightly better off than Uber overall. It spent less money on expensive props for its long con – flying cars, robotaxis, scooters, overseas clones – and abandoned them before Uber did. Lyft also fired 24% of its staff at the end of 2022, which should have improved its margins by cutting its costs.

Uber pays its drivers less. Like Lyft, Uber practices algorithmic wage discrimination, Veena Dubal's term describing the illegal practice of offering workers different payouts for the same work. Uber's algorithm seeks out "pickers" who are choosy about which rides they take, and converts them to "ants" (who take every ride offered) by paying them more for the same job, until they drop all their other gigs, whereupon the algorithm cuts their pay back to the rates paid to ants:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

All told, wage theft and wage cuts by Uber transferred $1b/quarter from labor to Uber's shareholders. Historically, Uber linked fares to driver pay – think of surge pricing, where Uber charged riders more for peak times and passed some of that premium onto drivers. But now Uber trumpets a custom pricing algorithm that is the inverse of its driver payment system, calculating riders' willingness to pay and repricing every ride based on how desperate they think you are.

This pricing is a per se antitrust violation of Section 2 of the Sherman Act, America's original antitrust law. That's important because Sherman 2 is one of the few antitrust laws that we never stopped enforcing, unlike the laws banning predator pricing:

https://ilr.law.uiowa.edu/sites/ilr.law.uiowa.edu/files/2023-02/Woodcock.pdf

Uber claims an 11% margin improvement. 6-7% of that comes from algorithmic price discrimination and service cutbacks, letting it take 29% of every dollar the driver earns (up from 22%). Uber CEO Dara Khosrowshahi himself says that this is as high as the take can get – over 30%, and drivers will delete the app.

Uber's food delivery service – a baling wire-and-spit Frankenstein's monster of several food apps it bought and glued together – is a loser even by the standards of the sector, which is unprofitable as a whole and experiencing an unbroken slide of declining demand.

Put it all together and you get a picture of the kind of taxi company Uber really is: one that charges more than traditional cabs, pays drivers less, and has fewer cars on the road at times of peak demand, especially in the neighborhoods that traditional taxis had always underserved. In other words, Uber has broken every one of its promises.

We replaced the "evil taxi cartel" with an "evil taxi monopolist." And it's still losing money.

Even if Lyft goes under – as seems inevitable – Uber can't attain real profitability by scooping up its passengers and drivers. When you're losing money on every ride, you just can't make it up in volume.

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/09/accounting-gimmicks/#unter

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #bezzles #hubert horan #uber #rideshare #accounting tricks #financial engineering #late-stage capitalism #narrative capitalism #lyft #transit #uber eats #venture predation #algorithmic wage discrimination

[nicromancytarot]

WHAT IS YOUR STRONGEST PSYCHIC ABILITY

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD

I asked my spirit guides what your strongest psychic ability is, pick a pile and find out what they had to say.

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

Alchemy.

Alchemy is the act of turning metals into silver and gold, it was created in hopes of being able to find cures to diseases and therefore extending the longevity of life. Now obviously I’m not saying that you are able to physically turn a base metal into silver or gold, however I am saying that you mentally have the ability to turn something dull, into something great. You might find yourself to be an incredibly positive person, or perhaps you are very optimistic, this is due to your ability to fix whatever is going wrong in your life.

I am getting the message that you need to learn how to harness this ability so you can use it intentionally rather than on accident.

An example of this ability could be shown when someone is super depressed, everything’s going wrong for them in life, but all the sudden they rise like nothing even happened, they are able to turn a shitty situation into one of their greatest accomplishments, and all it takes is their mind and soul.

Extras: The Weeknd, The moon, Green, White, America, Bisexual

PILE 2

Clairaudience.

Clairaudience is the act of being able to hear things that exist in a paranormal matter. An example of this could be your own voice in your head, like a little internal narrator which is talking to you and telling you random things, perhaps they are reminding you of something you forgot, or maybe they are telling you not to do something. These voices can sometimes appear from outside of your body, you may hear them as though they are existing within the physical realm. However, do not get this confused with other mental health issues, if these voices tell you something disturbing or uncomfortable, those are not to be mistaken as an awakening or guide trying to reach you.

Now that being said, since you have the ability to hear things, you may go to a location that has unknown paranormal activity, and you could possibly hear something that no one else does, like footsteps, a scream, a screeching chair, the list goes on.

Your greatest ability is to take in those messages in which you receive, and using those to your greatest advantage to learn and understand more. This is one of the best ways to communicate with the higher beings (Spirit guides, The universe, God, etc)

Extras: Stars, James Marriott, Chicago, Boxing, Yellow, City man

PILE 3

Mediumship.

Mediumship is known for its ability to be able to see beyond the physical realm. It is greatly understood for being able to see spirits and even communicate with them. It may be that you can see those spirits clearly as if they are like real people who you can interact with. Or it could be that you see them in your minds eye, as if you can describe them, but they are just a projection of a thought that has been placed into your brain.

The ability itself is certainly one of the most interesting, you may find yourself able to beckon upon these spirits, you may feel as though they are called towards you or vice versa.

You could even have the chance to speak to and meet yours, or others higher selves, having introspective conversations with them to learn more about what you need to know for the future.

This could be something you grew up aware that you could do, or possibly something that comes to you with time. It may not appear obvious at first, perhaps it’s just shadows in the corner of yours eyes, or visual premonitions, if so, you can totally begin working on it, if that’s what you desire.

Extras: loud, Blue, Blueberry, Saturday, Molly, Beer, Madison Beer, Montell Fish

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #free tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile

[icyg4l]

Pick-A-Meme: What Is In Store for You in April 2024?

Hello beautiful people. Tonight marks the beginning of a new month, April!!! I am so excited to be delivering a new PAC reading. I will continue to be as consistent as possible. Please book a personal reading with me here! And without further ado, please pick your pile!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right (1-4):

Pile One: I feel like you’re going through a rebirth, a spiritual purification. You need to purchase some hyssop, Pile One. I feel like you’re going to be looking at life from a different perspective. There’s a decision that you’re going to have to make in order to be content with your life. You have to choose yourself! I also feel like this month you’ll be focused on going outside into the city! You could get invited to some type of festival or a cooking class perhaps. It seems like this month you should be focused on taking risks and getting out of your comfort zone, Pile One. But even with all of this happening, you should keep your eye on the prize. Discipline yourself and keep your head on straight to the narrow path. Don’t get distracted by the bs, Pile One. 

Cards Used: Death, The Fool, Knight of Cups, Judgment, Nine of Cups, Temperance, Queen of Swords, Four of Discs. 

extras: white clothes. chicago. tundra. icicle. party girl. 

Pile Two: After I pulled some cards for this pile, I saw the vision of someone parting a moving mountain, like holding two mountains to avoid being crushed. I see that you have a big heart, Pile Two. You would do something like this for other people. But there’s someone in your life that is taking advantage of that. There is a connection, particularly love, where the efforts you put forth aren’t being reciprocated. It’s time to know your worth, babe. This is especially true if you are in a long distance relationship. I see that you will be meeting someone new who appreciates your energy and is willing to take care of you. But in order for this to work, you need to keep an open mind. This person is a bit eccentric, Pile Two. I also see that if you have been searching for apartments, you will be preparing to move out of your neighborhood by the end of the month. 

Cards Used: King of Wands, Five of Cups, Justice, Two of Wands, The Lovers, 4 of Discs, The Fool, 4 of Cups (RX), Two of Cups (RX), The Emperor, Page of Cups. 

extras: playing cards. heartbreak hotel. dracula. pity. sarcasm. brooklyn. candlelight dinner. mardi gras. 

Pile Three: This pile has been having hangups about a certain situation. Perhaps, you’ve been having dreams about something that occurs in your waking life. These dreams are in fact premonitions. You need to be taking note of them so that you can make the best decision. You may have been drawn to Pile One. I feel like this pile is getting settled in with something, maybe ‘it’ has to grow on you. Don’t let anyone affect your decision making at this time because you are the one that has to live out the effects of it. You could be going off to college, making the decision to move or stay in your hometown, deciding whether or not you need a new car or should just get it repaired. Either way, you need to lean into your intuition. Depend on yourself. I feel like this pile has been listening to the new Beyoncé album heavy. So if you resonate with that then this is definitely your pile. Don’t make a decision that you will regret. Watch your environment closely. 

Cards Used: Temperance, The High Priestess, Knight of Pentacles, Seven of Cups (RX), 8 of Swords, King of Wands, Five of Cups. 

extras: “blinded by tradition.” lilith. yodeling. partition. oracle cards. eye for an eye. watermelon. “my precious.”

Pile Four: Oh, Pile Four. You’ve been working on yourself big time, haven’t you? Because of this, I feel like April will be the month where you receive recognition for your efforts. I feel like this pile participated in Lent or Ramadan, or you’ve just been disciplined and staying out the way. I feel like you will be introduced to a new lover soon that you’ll meet through friends but you’ll be uber cautious of them because you’re used to being by yourself. Lots of people will try to get your attention during this month but I feel like you’ll continue to stack your coins and enjoy your time as a bachelor/ette. There’s many opportunities for you to make money, especially if you’re a young entrepreneur. I see the image of someone scanning through a brochure. So please, do what you have to do to make that money! But don’t let it make you! I also see that you could meet your mentor at some type of conference as well. You really need to network, Pile Four (to my fellow introverts, all will be okay, love).

Cards Used: King of Pentacles, 9 of Cups, The Tower (RX), The Sun, Ten of Cups, Ace of Discs, Nine of Wands, Wheel of Fortune, 3 of Cups, Princess of Cups (RX).

extras: BLT. hummus. pilates. health conscious. “please don’t partake in that.” suburban. office hours. sneak peek.

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #tarot #tarotreading #hoodoo #astro notes #pick a card #pick a pile #divination #spirituality #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #tarot deck #tarotblr #tarot pac #pac reading #pick a reading #tarot pick a card #pick an image #pick a picture #free tarot #tarot pull #intuitive readings

[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 1, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: sexual content, mention of unprotected piv sex, swearing, workplace relationship. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 1.4k+

a/n: guess who's back... back again... natty's back... tell a friend.... hey besties lol ik its been a year but i've been obsessed with the bear so i decided to write this. it will be a multichaptered fic and i will update it as soon as i've finished writing the chapters lmao. inspired by the song "jaded" by miley cyrus. pls pls pls enjoy

summary: fresh off of his breakup with claire, carmy needs a rebound. he just doesn't expect it to be his pastry chef.

masterlist | chapter 2

It starts with a ride home after service.

The sun had fallen down over the horizon, painting Chicago black with night. It’s chilly, middle of February, and you and Carmy are the only ones left at the restaurant. You’re both at the lockers, grabbing the last of your things and turning off the last few lights, leaving it behind you as you step out into the darkness of the street. Only amber lights are above you, illuminating Carmy’s face, along with the glow of his lighter around his cigarette. “How are you getting home?” He asks, looking down the alleyway. “Just the train,” you reply, gesturing towards the station a few blocks down the road. “Let me drive you,” he smushes the cigarette underneath the toe of his shoe, looking up at you, rather softly. “Oh, it’s not far,” you try to step the other way, before he grabs your shoulder lightly. “It’s cold, and fuckin’ dark, and there’s murderers. Just let me drive you home.” He was nothing if not protective. 

It really had been a short drive, slow tunes coming from his old car’s radio, drowned out by the sounds of the city around you. It was generally silent, Carmy’s hand on the gear shift. “It’s just up here,” you gesture to the building up the street. “Just take a right.” He does, obeying your action, pulling up in front of a 3-floored walk-up. “Thanks,” you grab your backpack by your feet, opening the door and giving him a small look before stepping out. “Hey, listen,” you start. His eyes are dark, sunken, tired. He’s wearing his usual wool jacket around a cozy navy blue sweater. “I was working on something before work this morning. A… a dish. Can I show you really quick? And you can tell me what you think?” He looked at the time on his phone, and then up at you. Baby blue eyes, peering from under thick lashes. “Sure, chef,” he says quietly as he puts his car in park and unbuckles the seatbelt. 

When you walk him up to your apartment, he’s endeared. You let him in, and your place smells of vanilla candles and laundry, from the load you’d done before work earlier that day. “Sorry about the mess,” you gestured to small pile of plates and spoons in the sink, and the aforementioned unfolded laundry on the couch. “You’d lose your mind if you saw my place if you think this is mess,” he laughed, pushing a hand through his soft golden hair. Your own coat comes off as you make your way into the kitchen, and he has to stop himself from staring. Your tight jeans fit your body perfectly, white t-shirt coming up over your hips only enough for him to see a dark tattoo on the back of your hip. You poured him a cup of cold water and put it in front of him, before firing up the burner on your stove and putting a stainless steel pan on the orange-blue flame. “Make yourself at home.”

He wandered around your apartment a bit, peering into your bedroom. Soft white bed, soft sheets, big fluffed pillows. An open window, letting a chilly breeze in, curtains slightly swaying with the night air. It reminds him of her, her soft sheets, big eyes, the nights he slept next to Claire and kissed her supple cheeks and pink lips. She was like this too; eager, clean, happy, simple. Easy to be with, and easy to like. You’d given off a similar energy the same day you walked into the restaurant on your first day, and you had reminded him of her. Kind eyes, warm presence, but with a different demeanour that chefs almost always had. A jaggedness, he thought. 

The sound of the plates being put on your small kitchen table snapped him out of his daydreams, as you held out a fork for him. “It’s a, uh, mango custard, bit of toasted cardamom and coconut cream in there, and, um, a coconut macaroon with a homemade chutney.” He raises his eyebrows at the dish before him, plated beautifully, and takes a small bite of each component. You seem to wait for hours as he takes his time, feeling every ingredient on his tongue before setting down his fork on the small white plate. “It’s tremendous, chef,” he says quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Almost perfect. Could use maybe an acid, it’s a little sweet, but, wow,” he looks up at you to see your wide eyes, excited at his answer. This was, essentially, the highest praise from Carmy you could get. “Thank you,” you say quietly, watching as he takes another forkful of the dessert. 

“What’s the tattoo on your hip?” he asks, pointing at the right side of your body, where your shirt had ridden up before. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he caught a glimpse. “Oh, um,” your cheeks turned a soft shade of red, standing up to lift up your shirt and show him. “It’s, uh, a snake. It goes down my leg too,” you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to show him a bit more of the ink, further exposing the thin strap of the black thong you had on. “Got it a long time ago, in school. Just wanted to feel cool I guess.” He stands up, slowly, coming to lightly pin you against the counter. It’s safe, it’s easy, and suddenly it feels so fucking right to have him here under the dim kitchen light. “Can I see the rest of it?”

All bets are off, then. Your jeans are pooled around your ankles in a second as he’s feverishly kissing your lips, hands everywhere, his calloused palms against your soft ass. His sweater is off, along with his signature white tee, showing off the glistening gold chain against his bare chest. You’ve managed to push his jeans down just enough to slide a hand into his waist band, eliciting a soft, breathy moan from him into your mouth.

When you stumble back into your bedroom, it’s all a blur. It’s hot skin against hot skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as his hands work their way in between your wet folds. They’re so gentle, yet he knows what he’s doing, so the slow circles on your clit as he lets himself rut against you are making you unbelievably wet for him. “I want you so fucking badly,” he pants into your ear, letting a finger easily plunge into you as you open your legs wider for him. “Is this a good idea, Carmy?” you let your fingers thread through his hair, allowing him to look up at you. His usual baby blues were dark again, lustful and wanton. “No,” he says matter-of-factly, but the smirk on his lips is so unbelievable, a cruel man above you. “Should we do it anyways?” You ask, your own smile playing on the corners of your mouth, allowing your hips to rut against his fingers, fucking yourself to feel more of him. He takes a large hand to your breast, letting it slide up, thumb slipping onto your lower lip and into your mouth. “Yeah… yeah, of course we fucking should.”

It’s so easy with him, which is what makes it so hard. He knows right where to kiss, where to touch, where to love on your body. He knows to take his hands to your sides, pushing you into the mattress as he laps at your clit and kisses your inner thighs, looking up and watching you take your own tits in your hands, squeezing them together, looking down at him with such need. He knows to slide up between your legs, and to cradle your neck in his hand, his thick cock plunging into you and making you weak, making his thumb wet with his own spit and bringing you to your orgasm, spasming around him, moaning his name into his mouth like a prayer. It doesn’t take much longer after that for him to spill inside of you, warm and deep, lips locked around his as you helped him ride his orgasm out. And it feels right, and real, when he lays next to you and kisses your chest and arms before falling into a deep sleep, your soft comforter over his chest. It all feels so fucking right, that first time.

But the next morning, all you have is an empty bed. And it doesn’t feel right anymore.

#carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfic #the bear fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fx fanfic #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy x you

[carmybears]

Assembly Required

or - The Inherent Eroticism of Swedish Furniture

This started as a joke and quickly spiraled out of hand

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: What's a new apartment without a trip to Ikea? Building Ikea furniture with Carmy and christening a new apartment

word count: 3.8K

warnings: explicit content, 18+; oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, mentions of carmy's gold chain, established relationship

There’s nothing quite as humbling as assembling Ikea furniture.

For such a young man, Carmy had already accomplished a lot more in his life than he ever really expected he would – not just graduating culinary school but excelling in it, working in some of the finest dining establishments in the world, winning a James Beard award, and reopening the family restaurant essentially from the ground up. But god help him if the assembly instructions for this Ingolf dining chair weren’t just going to get the best of him.

Over the course of the past several months, you and Carmy had been in the whirlwind process of moving in together. Deciding to get a place together was one of the easiest decisions he had made since returning to Chicago – he already essentially lived in your apartment, so it only made sense to find a place for the both of you when his lease was up. Apartment hunting had been something of a chore, and he shuddered to think of some of the places you’d seen in listings before stumbling across a shockingly spacious 1 bedroom with a decently renovated kitchen, a surprising amount of natural light, and a relatively easy commute to both the restaurant and your office.

House Hunters, eat your heart out.

As your move-in date came ever closer, every spare moment of your time together had become dedicated to preparing for the move. Many nights, the two of you had shared stories about your own respective days at work over piles of clothes to donate or cardboard boxes lined with packing paper and bubble wrap. Not exactly the sexiest of dates, but he knew that he’d have you all to himself before long.

The day of the actual move went surprisingly well, despite the long hours you’d spent moving boxes from one apartment to the other. Carmy already had very little stuff to actually move, and you’d talked him into hiring professional movers to take the furniture and heavier items to the new place. It left the two of you with plenty of time to methodically move from room to room, unpacking as many boxes as you could before absolutely running out of energy at the end of the day, collapsing on a hastily made bed. It was only at sunrise, when the light began to stream directly into Carmy’s eyes, that you realized you needed to buy curtains.

Well, you needed more than just curtains. In fact, you needed several pieces of furniture and had planned to use Carmy’s second consecutive day off as an opportunity to drive out to the Ikea in Shaumburg and check several items off of your shopping list.

You arrived shortly after opening, and Carmy sipped a gas station coffee lazily from a paper mug as the two of you wandered side by side through the store, occasionally sidetracked by a display featuring items you most certainly did not need. If he hadn’t been with you, he wouldn’t have necessarily enjoyed the shopping process – He had always chosen his furnishings based more on function than form, which he supposed was how he had ended up with a tattered, striped couch that you deemed “fit for a frat basement” and insisted was not allowed in your shared apartment. Still, seeing your eyes light up as you strayed away from his side to pinch the fabric of a throw blanket between your fingers or inspect a set of glassware was surprisingly endearing to him as you leisurely meandered your way through the labyrinthine showroom.

You returned home that afternoon with a bounty of flat packed treasures – four ingolf dining chairs, a Fjallbo coffee table, Hemnes dresser, plus whatever other odds and ends you had thrown into the bright blue and yellow canvas bag. The rest of the day had been spent assembling furniture, a growing mountain of cardboard and Styrofoam amassing along the outskirts of the living room with each item you constructed. The coffee table and dresser had come together with little difficulty, although now Carmy was suspecting that he had met his match as he struggled to comprehend just where exactly he was supposed to be placing a screw in the first of four dining chairs that remained to be assembled.

“You look stumped. Lemme take a look,” you offer, crawling across the new area rug to him.

“Take it,” he relinquishes the instruction sheet to you readily. “I think it’s scrambling my brain just lookin’ at this too long.”

You study the instructions for a moment before pulling the miscellaneous pieces closer to you, brow furrowed in concentration as you pick up the allen wrench and begin the assembly process

He watches in admiration as you work, the chair starting to take form before his very eyes as you hum along to the song playing on the Bluetooth speaker you had set on your newly assembled coffee table. You’re dressed in an Original Beef of Chicagoland t-shirt that you’d stolen from the back office at the restaurant shortly after the grand opening of The Bear, and your crossed legs were bare, save for a black pair of athletic shorts that left very little to the imagination. For a moment, he’s entranced by your thighs, the thought flitting across his mind how he wouldn’t mind being in between them right about now, when he notices a garish mark near your inner thigh.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asks, fingers automatically reaching out to brush across your skin where an angry looking bruise has formed.

“Hmm?” you glance away from your work, down to your lap. “Must just be from moving around all these boxes. It’s no big deal.”

“Sure it doesn’t hurt?” His hand rests on your bare thigh a moment longer and it’s practically Pavlovian the way his mind starts to wander, thinking of all the ways you still have yet to christen the new apartment.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You’re hardly paying attention to him, your eyes glued once more to the page. “Do you see a screw laying around somewhere?”

His mind is lost in thoughts of you – your skin against his, your breathy moans in his ear – when he sees you looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A screw, Carm. Do you see one laying around here somewhere?”

Without waiting for an answer, you rock forward onto your knees, crawling all around the half assembled chair. He starts to look halfheartedly, idly picking up random pages and pieces of cardboard in search of the missing screw, but mostly he’s just eyeing your ass as you crawl around.

A part of him thinks that maybe he should feel just a little bad that he’s not being more helpful in your search – it had been a long weekend after all, and you still had a long way to go before you were fully unpacked and settled in. But on the other hand, he could easily count on one hand how many times the two of you had been intimate in the past two months – busy work schedules, packing lists, and the occasional bickering about what furniture to keep or sell always seemed to get in the way whenever you two had time alone. Or plain exhaustion – can’t forget about that.

Eventually, you give up, sitting back up with your palms pressed to your knees as you let out a groan of frustration. “I can’t believe we’re missing a fucking screw.”

“I think I know where you can get a fucking screw,” Carmy mumbles, not quite sure what devil on his shoulder has clouded his better judgement.

You look at him incredulously, immediately clocking the innuendo. It’s not like you two don’t talk dirty when the occasion calls for it, but damn Carmy can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck as he realizes how crude his thoughts sound when spoken aloud.

 “Sorry, I’m as surprised by that as you are,” he apologizes quickly. With fidgeting hands, he starts to rifle through the debris on the floor again, struggling to meet your eye.

When he hears you start to laugh, he steals a look back over at you, noticing that the tension has left your shoulders as you melt into his side, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. He looks down at you and allows an uncertain smile to cross his face as he admires the way your eyes crinkle in laughter as you try to catch your breath.

“That has got to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said me,” you wheeze. “Please say more.”

You don’t give him the opportunity to say another word because you place your hands on his cheeks and pull him into a kiss, still giggling when your lips first make contact. As he wraps an arm around your waist to draw you closer, you melt against him, kissing him in earnest now. Something stirs in the pit of his stomach and he wants more – especially when he feels your fingers twist and tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck. He pulls you flush against him and you groan into his mouth, planting your knees on either side of his hips. You’re all warmth and softness in his lap, and he swears the very blood in his veins turns molten as he realizes how badly he wants you underneath him.

With a swift arc of his arm, he clears the miscellaneous debris from the rug before easing your back down to the floor. His lips are working their way along the line of your jaw when you hear the clatter of something small and metallic skittering across the hardwoods. And just like that, the spell is broken.

“Do you think that was the missing screw?”

“Hmm could be,” he mumbles into your skin, pressing his lips into that spot at the base of your neck that usually makes you squirm. Instead, you’re craning your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the screw among the small mountain of trash, saying something under your breath about how you should check it out.

He inches away from you as you begin to prop yourself up on your elbows underneath him.

“The chair’s really that important right now?” he asks, just barely leveling the twinge of annoyance in his voice.

“We need someplace to sit, Carmy,” you counter.

He snorts just a little at your reasoning. “I can think of someplace better for you to sit right now.”

His remark earns him an eye roll from you, but you pause for a moment in hesitation. He takes that moment as leverage, gripping your hips tight in his hands and drawing them up to meet his, groaning in the back of his throat as your bodies make contact.

“You feel what you do to me right?” he asks, shamelessly incapable of stopping himself from rocking his hips against yours in a desperate search for friction. A small whine escapes the back of your throat and his gaze softens as he looks down on you. “I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

He strokes your cheek, fingers grazing down your cheekbone and along your neck, where he can feel your pulse fluttering rapidly. He knows you well enough that he swears he can see your thoughts happening in real time as realization washes over your features.

“We’ve just been so busy,” you offer weakly. “It’s been hard to make the time.”

“I know, I know,” he presses his lips to yours briefly. “Just be here with me right now, baby. I’ll build you all the chairs you want after.”

You nod furiously, balling his shirt up into your first as you pull him back down to you in a searing kiss. He slips an arm underneath you, pressing you ever closer as his fingers slip underneath your shirt, gliding against soft skin until you’re breathless underneath him. He feels you clawing at his t-shirt and together you both move in a flurry to discard your clothing onto the ground beside you. He’s planting open mouthed kisses onto every accessible inch of feverish skin until he has you bare underneath him.

Your fingers are fiddling impatiently with the zipper on his jeans, pushing them lower down his hips until he kneels back on his heels to finish the job for you. You sit up too, pulling his shirt over his head in a hurried motion before grabbing his arm and coaxing him over to the couch with you.

“Floor not good enough for you?” he asks, leaving a trail of kisses over your collar bones as he presses you down into the cushions.

“I’m just already sore,” you protest, your fingers tracing idly across his shoulder blades.

“But I haven’t even done anything yet,” he croons into your ear, bringing a hand up to knead at your breast.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

And he does know – the subtle aches in the back of his legs and in between his shoulders have been present all day after the grueling hours of moving in the day beforehand. That’s not going to stop him now though, not as your legs fall open under his hands. His dick twitches at the sight of your pussy, evidence of your arousal glistening at the apex of your thighs and he’s like a man enchanted.

“This all for me, baby?” he asks you softly, reaching out to stroke your folds, wetness gathering on his calloused fingers as you squirm into his touch.

“Yes,” you gasp, pleading with him as you grasp his wrist in a feeble attempt to guide his fingers where you so desperately want him. “Carmy, please.”

You don’t have to ask him twice as he sinks two fingers into your snug walls. He studies your face as he touches you – the way you bite back a groan as his fingers stretch you out, admiring the way you tilt your head back, baring your neck to him as the pad of his thumb brushes roughly against your clit.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Carmy.”

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this for me, baby.” It’s true, you do. He thinks you’ve never looked prettier than you do in this apartment, with your proudly thrifted couch, half-built Ikea furniture and granite countertops that he could fuck you on every night if you wanted. With his free hand, he palms heavily over the front of his Calvin Kleins and makes a mental note that the kitchen is next in line for christening. But he has something he wants to do first.

You whine when he removes his hand from between your legs, but before you can protest, he’s maneuvering your thighs closer to the edge of the couch and angling your hips toward himself as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

He can feel your thighs trembling already in anticipation around him and you’re swearing under your breath before he’s even had his first taste of you. He starts with a few furtive licks, allowing the smell and taste of you to invade his senses before delving in deeper, lapping at your drenched pussy with languid strokes of his tongue. Wrapping one arm around your thigh, he pulls your leg over his shoulder, causing a shift of your hips that has the tip of his nose nudging against your clit. He steals a look back up at you just in time for you to cry out in pleasure, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair. Increasingly frantic, you tug at the roots, guiding his mouth where you want him, hips grinding senselessly into his nose and wanting mouth.

“Oh my fucking god,” you groan above him as his lips close around your clit, humming softly. He glides two fingers back into you, thrusting them in and out of you in time with the tight circles he’s making around your clit with his tongue.

“Carmen,” you sob his full first name – not Carmy, not baby, not Chef – Carmen. “Don’t fucking stop. JesusfuckingChrist don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop – wouldn’t dream of it. Even as your thighs clamp together around his head, he’s dizzy with the taste of you, groaning into your pussy as he pushes his tongue into you, big nose pressed into your clit in just the precise way that has you falling apart for him. You’re babbling incoherently as you cum on his face, and he doesn’t hesitate to lap up every wave of pleasure that rolls over you until you’re squirming, oversensitive under his lips.

“Too much, Carm,” you beg. “Please.”

 He nuzzles a kiss into your inner thigh, lips pressed right above the bruise he noticed earlier, before crawling back up to you. Your chest is heaving against his as you limply wrap your arms around the back of his neck and he drags his lips along your throat.

“Absolutely insane that we haven’t done this in so long,” you pant, curling your fingers tightly in his hair to angle his mouth back toward yours. He swallows the groan you make when you taste yourself on his tongue and his dick twitches in his underwear at the sensation of your fingernails scratching at his scalp, raking down his back.

“C’mere,” you mumble against his lips, and in an awkward tumble of limbs, you both maneuver so that he’s laying prone on the coach with you sitting at his hips. He can feel the heat of your core so easily through his briefs that he thinks he may go insane. You drive a merciful hand under the waistband of his underwear and grab his aching cock so firmly in your hand that it makes his head spin just a bit as your thumb grazes over the tip. You pump the shaft expertly once, twice and he’s not even quite sure that he’s speaking English anymore.

“Wanna be inside you so bad, baby.”

“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor?” You’re easing his underwear down his thighs, all the while looking him directly in the eyes, your gaze heated. He knows right then and there that he wouldn’t last 5 seconds in your mouth.

“Another time,” he rasps, reaching toward you in a desperate attempt to feel your delicate fingers or the soft curve of your hips – he’ll take any little bit you have to give him. “Just want you now.”

You rock your hips against him, coating the length of him in your wet heat; a low groan in the shape of your name escapes his throat. He wants to chastise you for teasing him, but before he can find the words, you sink down onto him with a soft “Oh.”

There’s a moment of stillness and he drinks in the sight of you, eyes fluttering shut and lips thoroughly kissed and swollen. He can’t help the way the words tumble out of his mouth – “I love you.”

“But I haven’t even done anything yet,” you grin cheekily.

And that’s when you move.

You’re hot and wet around him and he’s absolutely mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing into you repeatedly as you move above him.

 “Fuck, you ride my dick so well, baby,” he praises, cupping one breast in his hand, kneading the soft flesh there in time to the rhythm of your hips rocking against his.

There’s a slight tug at the base of his neck as the hand you’ve leveraged against his chest catches on his golden chain, your fingers curling around the glistening metal as if to tether yourself to him. Something flips like a switch then and he needs more of you.

He grabs your hips roughly on the next thrust, pulling you back down onto him so that he’s buried to the hilt. You cry out and grasp at the back of the couch for balance but let him continue to guide your hips, doing everything you can to keep up with the rougher pace he’s setting for you.

“You good?” He checks in, praying the answer is yes.

“Fuck, Carm,” you groan, digging your fingers into his arm and he can feel the stinging sensation of little crescent moons pressing into the skin. “s’good.”

He can feel how badly your legs are shaking as you match his every move. Heat pools in the bottom of his stomach and he knows he won’t be long now. Maintaining the pace as best as he can, he slides a hand between your bodies, swirling his fingertips around the swollen bud of your clit in a way that makes you swear out loud.

Your thighs clench hard on either side of him and it’s all he can do not to fall apart immediately. You’ve all but collapsed onto his chest and your breath is hot on his neck as you whine to him that you’re close.

“I gotchu,” he promises, fingertips still working in time with his hips. “Come for me.”

And you do.

The sensation of your pulsing walls around him is all at once too much and not enough as he digs his heels into the couch, thrusting erratically into you several more times, chasing his high. With a throaty groan, he screws his eyes shut as a wave of euphoria washes over him. For just a few brief seconds, it’s as if there’s nothing in his world but you.

Limbs heavy and bodies absolutely spent, you lay facing each other, just barely able to fit laying side by side on the couch. If he had the foggiest idea which box a throw blanket had been packed into, he would have pulled one up and around your shoulders. Instead, he settles for curling himself around you, skin still flushed and heated from moments before as you tangle your fingers idly in his hair, gazing at him through heavily lidded eyes. He kisses the tip of your nose and runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone as your eyes flutter shut.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he jostles your shoulder lightly.

“Mmmh,” you harrumph. “I know, I know. We should get cleaned up.”

“No, I was gonna say we have some chairs to build.”

The smack he receives to the chest is well deserved. Nevertheless, you allow him to coax you from the couch to a warm shower. Afterward, as you finish dressing and preparing for bed, he pads back out to the living room, sifting once again through the pile of cardboard until the glimmer of something silver catches his eye.

You step into the room just in time to see him setting the lost screw atop the coffee table.

“A project for tomorrow,” you promise.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, pressing his lips to your forehead.

He thinks of all the tomorrows you have ahead of you – together in your shared apartment, in your shared lives. And he can’t help but be excited for every single one.

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmy x reader smut #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto x reader #mine #pardon a cheesy ending and the fact that I got lost in the exposition sauce #would you believe the exposition was longer before i made edits?

[skxllz]

“ 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧’ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. ”

lip gallagher x fem! reader

warnings; swearing. “creep” scene in the beginning. suggestive joking between minors. shameless humor and descriptive writing?

side note; I usually would write for 18+ characters, like... lip in the other seasons, but I find season 1-2 lip so cute (this is season 2, he's 17). plus I feel like the feel of the atmosphere from the earlier seasons match up with the tiny plot I had in mind?? idk. but like, enjoy my shitty writing 😗✌️🏻

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It was chilly in the midst of october. the cool air was turning rather crisp and shiver-y to the feel. while you despised the feel of jeans snuggly fit against you, hot or cold weather, you figured today was a day as good as any to wear ‘em. it was going to rain soon, your other clothes were dirty in a growing pile on the swivel chair in your bedroom - and it was either jeans or pajama pants. although pj's weren't a bad choose, you rather not get soaked in that type of material. if just felt icky.

so friggin’ jeans were the go to in this bitter weather.

you wished summer would've stuck around a while longer, that way you could hang out in the sun in nothing but bikini bottoms, a ratty t and bare feet; but alas, the season only lasted like... three months. four tops, if you counted may. It was a bitch.

and so, due to your luck and the earth going down hill autumn came way too fast. it was actually your favorite season, you just preferred the warmth of the sun over the jittery winds that blew during this time of year. fuck temperature drops.

as of right now, with jeans riding up your ass from the fucking tightness - god it was annoying -, you were walking your behind to the high school that was about a mile away from your house. you lived between the southside and westside, which was both a blessing and curse - a blessing, since it was... a bit more relaxed than the southside, but a curse because you had to deal with the damn calvary of chicago. west and south did not get along, and the punches packed between could be brutally irritating.

so honestly, it was no surprise you got catcalled by some creepy fuck along the way past the bus stop. you ended up curling in your lips and flipping him off over your shoulder, but no queso dude. he still tried to bother you.

“ hey- that's not nice, little lady! ” the stranger cackled, only for his steps to fall in line behind yours. you could feel your teeth edging to grit together, but resisted; knowing you had to keep your cool in this situation.

“ bro, it's- ” you spared a glance at your flip’, squinting at the digital time that could barely be seen,“ — 7:24 in the am. go bother someone else. ”

the man cackled - only to place a rather chapped hand on your shoulder. you instantly made a face of disgust. “ but i- ”

“ didn't she tell you to fuck off, dickhead? ” a new voice entered the conversation. you recognized the owner as you turned your head; no other than phillip gallgher himself.

he had reeled the man back by his shoulder and got right in his face, shoulders squared and fists on edge by his sides. you could tell by the curling motion of his whitening fingers that lip was ready to throw down with this jackass.

the guy looked dumbfounded as he stared at lip - his eyes wide, jaw slack, exposing his chipped teeth. “ i- ” he stuttered - but, then his eyes instantly narrowed and he sized lip up with a squinted gaze. “ who the hell are you, man? get out of my face! ”

that wasn't the response lip was looking for, because before you could even blink, he threw his fist towards the guy in a swift motion; knuckles connecting right to the strangers jaw and knocking him on his ass. you inwardly winced from the gasping cough the guy let out, as he grabbed as his face immediately to cradle it.

“ fucking pig... ” lip muttered, before his frosty eyes turned onto you. he looked angered still, but the emotion began diminishing after you two locked gazes.

lip approached you, only to grab your arm and tug you along with him. “ come on, you're walking with me. ”

“ when the hell did I agree to ditch? ” your voice, filled with annoyance, bounced off the aluminum roof of the pavilion lip led the two of you under. it was one of those public ones that belonged to a church - but could actually care less for whoever used it. both of you ended up walking over to one of the few rickety picnic tables that sat benched out from one another, only to take seats on the table-top surface itself; you, criss-cross-apple-sauce, and lip sitting in a lazy man spread with one of his hands tucked into the pocket of his coat.

his eyes flickered up to glance at you, acknowledging your statement to him before they shifting back to the lighter he began flicking, “ th’minute you left with me. ” he mumbled over the roll of his cigarette.

“ huh? ” you raised a brow in question.

lip took his cigarette between his fingers once he sparked it up, blowing smoke out from between his lips as his gaze locked onto your figure again. “ I said, you agreed to ditch the minute you left with me. ”

those blue eyes of his seemed to be studying your expression, but you either didn't mind or just didn't seem to notice - given, of course, that you were looking out at the empty road; simply watching the cars pass by. “ technically, you forced me out here with you. ” you snarked back knowingly, finally turning your head to give the gallagher a smug smile.

he managed a half-assed smirk. “ is that necessarily a bad thing? I did save you from that fucking creep - he was ready to grab your ass. ”

your nose scrunched up and wrinkled in distaste. “ oh, yeah... thanks for that. ”

looking away, you coughed into your fist. “ but I could've handled myself, ya’ know. ”

the brunette-blonde rolled his eyes, taking another inhale of his camel light. “ sure. ”

you scoffed, looking at lip with pinched brows. “ right - and you only came to my rescue because you thought you'd get some pussy, right? ”

lip, who was now looking out at the road now himself, cracked a grin and said nothing. you shook your head in disgust, only to curl your lips in from angered disbelief and shove him.

“ hey! ” the gallgher boy laughed, putting his hands up in mock surrender once he stumbled from the bench, “ I didn't even say anything! watch it. ”

“ I saw that look, gallagher. ” your eyes rolled before pinning ahead once more. “ you're a real dick, ya’ know? ”

“ I know. ”

your half-lidded gaze moved onto him, mirroring annoyance. lip was wearing a cocky grin - the one he always seemed to have on whenever he pissed off someone. he truly was an ass.

“ fuck you. ” you spat, sticking out your tongue childishly. lip's brow raised in response while he tucked his bic away.

“ when? ”

“ never. ”

he shook his head, smile never fading. though, he didn't say anything else; choosing to sit beside you once more. you didn't say anything either, but you were eyeing him from your perennial vision to make sure he didn't try anything.

the both of you sat in silence for what seemed like eternity, but it was really only ten minutes or so. lip had decided to gaggle around, tapping a beat with his foot for no apparent reason other than to rid the silence away. he wasn't used to sitting in a quiet setting for too. although it could be nice, it just wasn't.

“ so, ” lip spoke while snuffing his butt out into the wooden table. “ what're you doing? ” his eyes moved onto you, only to see you looking out into the road again.

“ admirin’ the early morning. ” your voice came out soft - way softer than the tone you had spoken to him with before.

lip just... stared at you. It wasn't creepy, nor weird, he was just admiring you for a moment. taking note on how your baby hairs curled around the base of your ear, and how your lips parted just enough to let out a small puff of air once in a while.

It was cute.

you were cute.

“ why? ” he questioned finally, tearing his gaze off of you and pointing it to the ground.

a gentle smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “ because, ” you chuckled lightly, “ it's always nice out at this time. just- the hour of the day, the fog and rain around us. you never took any time to take this in? ”

why would he? “ no. ” lip spoke with a scoff, almost like what you were saying was a joke. he never had time to do that shit.

“ you should, ” you didn't sound bothered that he took your words with a grain of salt. he was lip gallagher after all. you didn't know him that well, so you couldn't fully judge him, but everyone knew how the gallgher's were like. “ it's therapeutic to appreciate the little things. ”

in lip's mind, he knew you weren't necessarily wrong - but at the same time, he didn't have time to just sit back and relax. a lot of people in the world didn't, because they had shit going on and things to do. right now, he shouldn't even be where he was; he should be in calc. in school. both of you should be, but he figured a day off wouldn't hurt.

but now that he thinks it over... it's probably hurting his grades right now, and he can only imagine how bad fiona is gonna’ chew his ear off for missing.

the thought made him internally swear, unintentionally balling up the fist that sat downright on his knee. his bottom lip had even curled in and he didn't take notice.

“ hey- ” that was until your voice called out to him.

he blinked- once, twice, in a manner that brought him back to earth.

lip looked at you - then down at your hand, that had moved over top of his from concern. why were you concerned?

“ you okay? ” your words made lip lift his head and inhale, “ you seemed mad, for a moment. ”

“ yeah, ” he nodded his head, wiping at his nose with his other hand out of habit. “ ‘m fine. just thinkin’ about some shit. ”

you stared at him for a moment - it's like you were contemplating his words, which you were - before nodding slowly. “ okay. ”

you paused. “ wanna’ go get something to drink? the stores should be open by now, it's past eight. ”

lip stared at you for a moment.

“ I don't have any money, ” he said finally, after a minute of hesitation. It was embarrassing to admit that - being a kid form that southside and all, just struggling to get by.

a sideways smile pulled at your mouth. “ don't worry about it. I got you. ”

lip swallowed at the words that rolled off your tongue as if it was nothing. he surely wasn't used to kindness. I mean - steve came into their lives, sure, but lip always seen him as sketchy. there's not really someone who exists that's so willingly nice unless they get something in return.

“ what's in it for you? ” he was was now defensive, and you noticed.

so, you did reverse psychology.

“ okay- ” you shrugged, and got up from your spot on the picnic table. “ since you wanna’ be like that, don't come. but the offer still stands. ”

It wasn't like you were a bitch, you just knew how boys like lip were. always thought a single sliver of kindness was dropped onto the table just to fuck them over ten fold. but, you didn't have those intentions. lip helped you out, so why not help him out?

maybe it wasn't with a blowie like that karen chick would offer him, but it was still something.

“ hey! ” you heard lip call after you, after you had walked off. you were half way down the road when you turned around, only to see him jogging after you.

“ uh- ” he breathed out awkwardly once he came to a stop in front of you. his hand raised to scratch at the back of his head. “ listen- I could actually use that drink... I'm pretty thirsty. ”

you smirked at him, “ I knew that. ” your head tilted in the direction of the gas station. “ so come on, I don't feel like standing around all day. ”

lip looked dumbfounded, but you didn't stay to watch how his mouth dropped open to catch flies. instead, you walked off once again; hands in pockets and a certain beverage in mind.

... okay. maybe appreciating the little things in life wasn't so bad. that was lip's last thought before he ran after you.

he was getting that cola he had in mind.

#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x y/n #shameless x reader #shameless us #shameless #phillip gallagher

[0fth34byss]

(Un)welcome Distraction | Part 4

Nick Folio x female reader

Minors, please DNI

🔞⚠️: references to sex, some fluff

776 words

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You woke with a start to the sound of raised voices, almost hitting your head off the top of Nick's bunk.

“Dude! Shut the fuck up! She's still asleep,” you heard Nick hiss.

“Seriously, Folio. Fucking your girl on the bus while we're all in our bunks, like, metres away? Not cool.” Noah spat back, not bothering to keep quiet.

‘Shit. Fuck’, you thought, breaking out into a cold sweat. After a chill day off in Nashville, you'd all piled back on to the bus for the long drive up to Chicago. All but Nick and yourself decided to go straight to the bunks to get some sleep. You'd settled down in the seating area towards the back of the bus, wrapped up in Nick's arms. After a few soft kisses on your neck and your hand making its way up Nick's thigh, one thing led to another, and you ended up naked from the waist down with him between your legs. You thought you'd been quiet - at least by your standards - but apparently not.

“She's an unwelcome distraction, that's what she is,” Jolly huffed.

Jolly seemed to have the biggest problem with you being around; you’d caught him staring at you or making snide remarks when you were within earshot since you'd arrived. The others had pretty much come round to the idea of you joining them, quickly realising you had good intentions for Nick. Even Matt was warming to you now he'd discovered Nick played better when you were close by, but he was still somewhat convinced you were a fame-chasing wannabe.

“First of all, don't talk about my girl like that ever again. Yes, we had sex. We're sorry, we didn't exactly plan on it and we made sure we cleaned up after ourselves.” Nick said, getting agitated.

“Were you guys safe at least?” a genuinely concerned Matt asked.

You could hear Nick giggle, and it warmed your heart, “We've got it covered, don't worry. Thanks, Dad!”

“Let's not change the subject, especially not to Folio's sex life which, let's face it, we will literally be hearing a lot of while she's around!” Jolly piped up again.

“Jolly, chill out. Just make the effort to get to know her like the rest of us have. She's not a bad person and she's clearly madly in love with Folio,” Nicholas responded.

“I love her too. A lot. Please, guys, don't make her leave me. I promise I won't fuck her on the bus again, well, not while you guys are present anyway, but -” Nick started.

“Come here,” you heard Nicholas say, followed by some shuffling about and what sounded like hands being affectionately slapped on backs. “Group hug. We know man, we know.”

It went quiet for a while, and then you heard footsteps moving away from the bunk area. You debated getting up, but you felt your cheeks were flushed after you learnt your late night romp with Nick had most definitely been heard. At least the guys seemed okay with Nick - and you - now. Jolly, on the other hand, was clearly not a fan of yours, but you couldn't figure out what made him hate you so much. You thought it would be best to lay low, at least while you were in such close quarters.

You rolled over, facing away from the curtain, which offered the only privacy, letting out a deep sigh as you turned. What could only have been a few minutes later, the curtain was drawn back, and you felt the familiar presence of Nick climb back in the bunk. He pulled you back towards his chest and buried his head in your neck. Warmth radiated from him. He was your safe place. He was your Nick.

Allowing yourself to relax, you whispered, “Hi baby, I love you a lot too. Um, if it's going to be better for everyone I don't mind leaving after the Chicago show. I -”

“Hey, hey. Shh. No, you don't have to leave. The guys are okay now. They understand us. I'm guessing you heard that, uh, discussion. How much did you hear?"

“From Noah announcing they heard us last night when we, you know,” you let your voice trail off.

“We'll just have to work on being quieter. Well, you do anyway,” he joked.

“Hey! You're louder than me, sunshine.” You paused for a moment, then continued, "Anyway, I don't even know how or if I should ask this but, what's Jolly's problem with me?”

A deafening silence fell between the two of you, and you felt Nick's entire body tense.

“I don't think he has a problem with you, and that's the problem,” Nick finally said.

Part 5

#nick folio #bad omens fanfiction #nick folio fanfic #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio fic #nick folio x reader #nick folio x female reader #reader x nick folio #bad omens fic

[palmtreesx3]

ACT 4 GOING ALL THE WAY - Steve’s Chapter OUT NOW!!!!

SexShop!Steve x Reader : SexShop!Robin x OC

Summary: Steve and Robin have about had it with Hawkins, so on Robin's 25th birthday, the pair decides that there's nothing holding them there anymore and they start packing their bags. The friends move to Chicago and quickly find an apartment to call their own. As luck would have it, within hours of arriving to the city, Robin stumbles on a no-strings-attached job offer for both of them - what could be better?! Now just to break the news to Steve…. This multi part story will both explore their platonic relationship and their chaotic experience working at the sex shop together as well as their own paths of self discovery as they plant their roots in their new city and finally deal with the invisible baggage they drug along with them when they moved.

Warnings: Eventual smut (f/m, f/f and both m+f masturbation); a whole lot of sex talk, sex toys and NSFW topics; LGBTQ+ but in the late 80s/early 90s; inexperienced Robin; reformed King Steve; exploring topics or implied reference of ADHD and anxiety. Some non cannon in this AU but cannon themes and Easter eggs a-plenty. Chapter specific warnings will be included. 

Prologue  (7.9.23)

The-V-Card (7.14.23)

Act 1: Foreplay - Aphrodisiac (Robin’s Chapter) (7.24.23)

Act 2: Exploration - Lube (Steve’s Chapter) (8.18.23)

Act 3: Getting Lucky - Praise Kink (Robins Chapter) (10.16.23)

Act 4: Going All the Way - Queening (Steve’s Chapter) (1.26.24)  

Act 5: Right on the Edge

Act 6: Climax

Aftercare

Acts will be comprised of separate Steve and Robin-centric Chapters, but they will not be standalone stories. They are co-existing. Bits and bobs of Steve’s storyline and character development will occur during Robin-centric chapters and visa-versa. These two are co-dependent, just like our favorite guy and gal. 

Extras Below the cut!

Playlist

Click Here to get in the mood!

Mood Boards 

Prologue  

The-V-Card

Act 1: Foreplay - Aphrodisiac (Robin’s Chapter)

Act 2: Exploration - Lube (Steve’s Chapter)

Act 3: Getting Lucky - Praise Kink (Robin’s Chapter)

Act 4: Going All the Way - Latex (Steve’s Chapter)

Act 5: Right on the Edge

Act 6: Climax

Aftercare

Blurbs 

Yeah, I know I’ll write these, too... I hav too many head-cannons already piled up for these two in this AU. Don’t hesitate to share your thots or questions with me on these two and you may get yourself a little freebie in your bag straight from the sex shop. 

*AU Note: Cannon events from their past are still laced in their character experience. Hawkins is weird and they have experienced Upside Down related events, however not to all characters you know and love. If characters exist in Chicago in this AU, they’re not connected to Hawkins. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley #steve and robin get a job #steve and robin 4L #robin buckle x oc #sexshop!steve #sexshop!robin #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #robin Buckley smut #joe keery #Steve Harrington fanfic #robin Buckley fanfic #Steve Harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington AU #stobin fanfic #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 6

Am I going to tease you with more reconnect before WIP Wednesday? Why, yes, yes I am.

This chapter was a blast to write. We get some of the petals of the past to unfold, just a little.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5  

***

Robin began her grovelling by making french toast with homemade whipped cream and strawberry jam.

Both Steve and Edie were drawn out of their rooms as the sweet smell of vanilla and spices filled their home. They made their way to the kitchen and sat down at the counter.

“Looks fantastic, Aunt Robbie,” Edie said.

Robin smiled timidly. “Can’t let my favorite people go hungry, now can I?”

Steve and Edie shared a glance and grinned.

“We definitely won’t say no to french toast,” Steve agreed.

She piled them them up on two plates and handed each one to Steve and Edie. “This is me saying I’m sorry about earlier. Eddie Munson, for all his problems, is not an emergency.”

“How did Viv react when you told her you were going to storm the castle?” Edie asked around a large mouthful of food.

Vivian Knightley was Robin’s most recent girlfriend. Tall, gorgeous. An actual fucking model. They had met in New York last year when Nancy had done an expose on the dangers of the fashion industry and Robin had tagged along to ogle the pretty ladies. No one was surprised when she took the prettiest one home with her.

“Uh...” Robin said, blinking slowly. “She was supportive but annoyed?”

Steve clicked his tongued. “Annoyed that the plan was for her to come out to Indy with you and suddenly you’re leaving her in New York for the next couple of days?”

Robin blushed. “I’ll pardon me, while you eat the fruits of my grovelling for you two, I’m going to go grovel to my girlfriend.”

“Send her flowers,” Steve called as she exited the room. “Spare no expense. I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah, Romeo,” Robin said. “I’ve got this.”

Edie just shook her head. “I don’t know why people think Romeo is the height of romance. Dude couldn’t keep either of the girls he was crushing on.”

Steve laughed. “Rosaline sure dodged that bullet.”

A few minutes later Robin came back with blush high on her cheeks. “Yeah, I’m going to have to get flowers at the very least.”

Steve raised an eyebrow and then shook his head. “We’ll go out for dinner tomorrow and you can lay out your plan for making sure you don’t get dumped this weekend.”

Robin sighed dramatically. “I really screwed the pooch this, didn’t I? I got everyone made at me.”

Edie and Steve shared a glance and Steve sighed, too.

“I know you meant well,” he said tersely, “but I don’t know why you think it was Eddie’s fault. It never was. I have told the same story over and over. He confessed, I turned him down, my parents came back and said they would do better. I was at a low enough point in my life that I believed them.”

Robin sighed. “He really didn’t hurt you?”

Steve pursed his lips and shook his head. “Really. I know Addison is a bitch extraordinaire but I’m the idiot that fell for her charms, okay? Plus, I think I got the best part of that deal. I got a beautiful daughter, I’m the CEO of a tech company worth hundreds of millions of dollars, and I’m happy. You want to know what she got?”

“Nothing?” Robin asked with a grimace.

“She’s got my parents,” Steve replied, “and is living miserably in Chicago where she can’t find a man that will take her with bad dye job and sagging breasts.”

“They say the best revenge is living well,” Robin said with a smile.

Steve smiled back. “Exactly.”

Robin threw her arms in the air in defeat. “You win.”

“It’s nice to win once in a while,” Steve said with a happy sigh. “You should visit more often.”

Edie scoffed. “Like you don’t win when she’s not around.”

“Are you kidding?” Steve asked. “Between you and Dustin, I always lose.”

Edie cocked her head to the side and then nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Steve and Robin laughed.

*

Edie went to school the next day, grateful it was Friday. She wished middle schools and high schools had early out days like the elementary schools. It would make her life far more pleasant. But as it was she still looked forward to the weekend.

Mandy came up to her at their lockers. She chewed on her lip nervously. “So I talked to my dad…”

“I hope you got farther along then I did,” Edie grumped. “My Aunt Robin came to visit early and threw a bomb into getting information out of either of them.”

Mandy sighed. “Not really,” she said, slamming her locker shut and leaning against it. “All Dad would say is that was just a series of missed connections and that neither one is at fault.”

Edie slammed her own locker so hard it bounced back in her face. She slammed it again and this time the lock engaged. “That’s not what it feels like. They didn’t talk for nearly twenty years. This just doesn’t make sense.”

They walked to class together in stony silence.

*

At lunch Harri was able to shine some light on the situation.

“Dad said that Harrington had three strikes against him,” he said.

Edie raised her eyebrows. “He really called my dad by our last name?”

Harri nodded. “He only told me the first one, but I can guess the other two.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow. “What’s the first one?”

Harri picked at his food again. “My Dad confessed that he was in ‘love’ with ‘Harrington’ and that he had brushed it off. That said that all they were was friends and maybe not even that. They had both had near death experiences and hadn’t really had time to get to know each other.”

“Harsh,” Mandy said softly.

“Wait, I have a theory it might not be harsh as we think,” Edie said, chewing at her bottom lip. “Harri do you know when the witch hunt for your dad was?”

He shrugged. “Spring of ‘86 approximately.”

“And what was your dad’s band name?” Edie asked, pulling out her phone.

“Oh!” Mandy said. “I know that one. It was Corroded Coffin.”

Kenny nodded appreciatively. “Bitching band name.”

Edie and typed into the search when Corroded Coffin got their start. “Well shit. It was completely dick move on my dad’s part, but an understandable one.”

She turned the phone around to where it showed they got their record deal in July of that same year.

“Dad said him and Harri’s dad became friends after the witch hunt,” Edie explained. “Which means...”

“Holy shit,” Kenny said, “that’s a really narrow window.”

Harri was silent for a moment. “I–I think my dad was in love with yours before the witch hunt.”

The whole table fell silent.

“That would explain why Mr Munson took it so hard,” Mandy said, her shoulder hunched up around her ears. “To love somebody and then have them narrow your relationship down to trauma bonding? I’m not sure I would recover either.”

“But that doesn’t sound like my dad...” Edie whined. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Harri chewed on his thumb. “I don’t think it was like that. I think Dad’s angry. Because I’ve seen pictures of him before and after they got famous and there is this ring that Dad used to have on his right hand. He said he lost it and I believed him until band practice.”

Edie nodded. “Dad doesn’t like talking about the ring, though Aunt Robin used to argue for him getting rid of it or pawning it, but he always refused. I think we just figured out why.”

Mandy nodded. “Like my dad said, I think that they just kept missing each other. But it’s obvious that Harri’s dad has some real bad hang ups. And I don’t think we should get involved.”

Edie frowned. “I know, but what about the other two incidences that made Mr Munson so upset. Because Harri said he mentioned three.”

Harri sighed heavily. “I think he’s referring to the funerals. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think Mr Harrington made it to either one.”

“Funerals? Plural?” Mandy asked. “I know about the one for their bandmate Brian Martin. Dad said that something came up and Mr Harrington couldn’t make it.”

Edie’s frown grew deeper. She wasn’t sure but she had an idea when that was and if she was right...she would blow Mr Munson’s fucking mind.

“Hey, Harri?” she asked. “Do you think I could come over to your place after school?”

Harri shrugged. “I don’t see how it would be problem. What’s up?”

Edie looked down at her hands. “My mother is, as my Aunt Nancy said, a grade A bitch. And I think I have a piece to the puzzle your dad didn’t have before.”

Harri looked at her for a moment. “And you want to tell him? Why not let your dad tell him?”

Edie shrank even further on herself. “Because he doesn’t know.”

Everyone shared a shocked glance.

“Then how would you know?” Kenny asked.

Edie licked her lips and pursed them. “Dad doesn’t know that sometimes she’ll call me up out of the blue and try to turn me against him. She’ll throw insults and bring up horrible shit he did. Her favorite thing to do is tell me how easy he was to manipulate.”

“Fuck.” Harri was so glad that his papa hadn’t been like that. “Yeah. We can go over to my place after school.”

“Thanks.”

***

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9  Part 10 Part 11  Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @thylatrek @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #reconnecting years later AU #ladykailtiha writes

[buckyarchives]

EARTHQUAKES CAN BE A FLIGHT RISK, TOO. [1/3]

modern obi-wan kenobi x female reader

w/c: 8k

!!!: obi-wan is referred to as ben. family trauma, jealous asshole men, anakin is dead and it comes up a lot.

heavily inspired by im with you by wkemep

ao3 / masterlist

“...ladies and gentlemen, can I please have your attention? We regret to inform you that the current blizzard in Chicago has delayed several flights… for more specific information, please go to the customer service desk for your respected airline assistance. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”

The airline speaker announces like a mantra to a less-than-pleased crowd at O’hare international airport. 

Watching as sun-kissed families that are more than ready to go home sit around barricaded by the feet of snow piling up on the floors, and behind and ahead of you people with permanent scowls as they come to the realization they'll be stuck in this airport for more than expected.

The line to the few customer service desks has loomed and looped around the place, from where you stand it looks like it never ends. You look forward and at the back of a pitch-black head of hair, a tall man in a suit taps his fingers on his leather briefcase and groans for the 10th time in the past few minutes, (yes, you're so bored you began to count). The snowfall outside was more of a blessing rather than a curse for you, you wear a small smile, completely unbothered by the long line ahead of you.

New Year's Eve is tomorrow, and tomorrow is your annual new year's party. 

Your friend group has done it since high school, it's like a sort of reunion, and the only thing keeping your friend group alive. It seems no matter how far apart or distant any of you've grown, everyone manages to make it back to this party. You’re sure some of the reason is for the fact the girl, your best friend, that throws it every year is absolutely loaded. You're less than excited to go this year, though.

A loud, stressed yell of a man in a tacky Hawaiian button-up makes your head shoot up. You'd been watching the family at the front desk for a moment now, the stress of the toddler whining and the teenager complaining has probably gotten to the father. You understand, yet it still doesn't give him the right to yell at the customer service attendee just doing his job. You shake your head in disappointment. 

“A bunch of barbarians.” is whispered with a thick accent behind you, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to where it might have been directed at you. 

You think to turn around to find out, but you don’t and keep looking ahead at the father yelling and successfully keeping the line looping around the airport.

“Honestly, I can't tell if the yelling is more embarrassing or the absolutely disastrous excuse of a shirt he's wearing.” the man behind you comments and even if he isn't speaking to you, you can't stop the snort that leaves you unprovoked.

“The socks and sandals combo, I think,” you mutter back, hoping in lands. It does, a small breathy laugh comes from the man behind you. Smiling to yourself, you still haven't turned around, yet.

You do - instead - shift your eyes to the large windows. The world is covered with snow and the bright lights of the city. A dystopian feeling washes over you that you're sure only comes from being at an airport this late, or so early in the morning. Time is irrelevant in the sense you only need to know how long it will take you to grab gum and some caffeine while also being able to make it to your boarding gate on time. 

You snicker to yourself, accepting the fact you'd be completely okay with your flight being canceled or missing your boarding time. 

The line erupts into chaos, it happens so quickly. The Hawaiian shirt must have blown his top, taking a step back and causing a domino effect to the line. The businessman with no bits of patience falls back on you and before you can even get a yelp out, hot coffee pours down your sweatpants and solid arms brace your fall. 

The world moves on though, everyone's eyes don't stop looking annoyed, at their phones or flight board. The man in the Hawaiian shirt continues to yell, and apparently, so do you.

“Asshole! I spent a good 4 dollars on that!” you push yourself out on the arms of the mystery funny man behind you and barrel forward like a goddamn tank, you'd barely got a few spits out of that drink! Grasping at his shoulder to get his attention, the man whips back fast.

“You got your coffee on my shoes, you bitch!” his finger raises to your face, he's tall. You should feel intimidated but irritation blinds you and your rage doesn't stop your shouts.

“Me! You're the one with no sense of surroundings and bumped into me!”

“Listen here, young lady – “ he begins to step into your space, tower over you and fear suddenly washes over you. Flinching as his pointer finger waves around, you shut your eyes and an arm from behind you brushes past your shoulder. 

Blinking your eyes open, 5 fingers are spread out and pushing the businessman back, whose gaze is looking past you now.

“Please back off the girl, sir.'' His voice is stern, an interesting contrast to the sarcastic tone from moments ago. It sends a chill down your spine and you haven't even seen his face yet. 

Your eyes trailed from his hand down to his cream hoodie sleeve, slowly he steps in front of you and between the man. You notice his side profile, a large mole on his cheekbone and then the back of his sandy blonde hair as he speaks to the man.

“Do you know how much these shoes cost? Just for coffee to be spilled all—”

“I suggest you settle down, turn around or you'll have to argue about your cheap shoes to airport security,” he speaks with a stern, calm tone. “And with this layover, you do not want to be stuck in airport security.”

You're not sure if it was the threat itself or the intimidating aura this man suddenly gave off, but the businessman turns around with a stank in his eyes and a grumble leaving his lips. You're impressed, to say the least.

“Are you alright?'' The sandy blonde hair turns around once the threat is seemingly gone, his voice is less stern and replaced with a surface-level worry. You notice his eyes, they're piercing through you. 

Your fingers run down your wet pants, it's warm but bearable, not noticeable. 

“Uh, yes, I think so.” just startled and damp, you almost say.

“I'll get you another cup of coffee once we survive this line,” his Atlantic blue eyes dart from your hands to the head of the line, and then back to you.

“You don't need to, you weren't the one to bump into me.” you wave his offer off, “anyways, you did enough with that dude.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, with a surprising amount of concern in his voice for a stranger that literally fell into him.

“Yes, I'm sure,” you say, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights as he stares at you. You reach your hand out, offering your name.

His smile catches you off guard, it's warm and reaches his blue irises, and the sides of his eyes crinkle. It's genuine and very, very pretty. 

“Ben Kenobi, it's nice to meet you.”

The line moves, thankfully, and you're reminded of the fact Ben had technically stolen your spot. He notices as well.

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry, I didn't mean to step in front of you.'' He gently pushed you in front of him, with a gentle hold on your upper arm. His hands are impossibly warm, you don't like physical touch, much less from a stranger at an airport. But this was okay. He coughs and you turn around, he might as well disappeared then, except for the fact his presence loomed over you to an uncomfortable extent. 

Time is still irrelevant and you notice how quickly the line begins to move now, the airport has seemed to get a grasp on the situation as the flight plan board begins to flicker with dots of green and another customer service worker starts a new line. You almost forget about your coffee-soaked pants until you begin to move to break off into a new line, conveniently having a suitcase full of clothes. 

The boy behind the desk looks barely eighteen, maybe just a babyface. Either way, you can tell the stress of the situation is getting to him. His ears and cheeks are tinted red in stress and his eyes dart wildly in anxiety, you do your best to be considerate. 

As he begins to punch in the number for your flight, you wait patiently, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Ben at the desk next to yours. Glancing over, he glances back with those piercing blue eyes. Have you ever seen something so blue? You smile kindly, one of those smiles you give to someone whom you're not friends with, but not strangers. It's fitting. 

“Thank you for your patience, ma’am.” you hear, he clears his throat and you notice his anxiety diminishing. “We are still watching the blizzard before we can get a confirmed time of departure for your flight from Chicago to San Diego. Please be patient and keep watch on the flight information boards and announcements going forward. We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

You nod and thank the man for his help, he smiles at you, watching his shoulders slack a little. Honestly, you'd rather stay camped out around cranky kids than step foot in the state of California right now. You have no complaints and an unusual bounce in your step as you go to find a place to rest until you hear more news about your flight.

A part of you wonders why you even agreed to go this year, a moral obligation to the unspoken tradition that's been going on for over a decade now? Probably. To see your best friend? You see her normally, you don't need a stupid New years party to see her. You know he will be there and just for that fact you're dreading it. 

Seeing him by choice should be considered self-harm at this point. Especially since the last time you saw him, because you know once you see his stupid smile the cycle will repeat and you'll be head over heels. Your eyes dart back to your flight schedule. Delayed. Good.

Your name is shouted from behind you, faintly you hear it and have to let yourself hear it again before turning around. Ben comes walking close with a military backpack slung over one shoulder. He's still calling out your name before you ground yourself enough to respond.

“Hey, Ben. Updates on your flight?” 

He shakes his head and wears a bittersweet smile, he doesn’t seem so down about the blizzard either. You wonder for a moment if he too is versed in the art of balancing on earthquakes just to fall, because that's what this is, whatever you're doing right now. 

“Nope, off to terminal D to wait it out.”

Your eyebrows perk up in surprise, “terminal D, huh?”

“Would that be where you're headed as well?” he catches on, the end of his lip quirked up slightly. You notice the freshly groomed beard. It suits him but you also notice the razor cuts lower on his neck, it makes you want to laugh.

“It would be.”

“In that case,” his eyes darted to the terminal entrance, a sense of familiarity was in his eyes. “I think you should let me buy you a new coffee.”

Wow, this man is stubborn.

An amused smile paints your face, and you almost laugh. Not sure why. Thinking to protest, but you remember a conversation you had with your therapist. Looming over your shoulder telling you to say yes to good things more, even if you believe you don't deserve it. This could be a good thing, or this could be nothing and you steal a latte from this man and never see him again. Either way, caffeine does sound good. 

“Okay, Ben. Lead the way,” you say and Ben smiles, he tells you there's an okay coffee shop in this terminal he swears by. You trust him and watch the back of his head as you walk down the terminal. 

Your palms are slick as you grasp at your suitcase handle, the clicking sound as the wheels hit the grooves in the airport floor turning to white noise. Trying to cast out any thoughts of this party, or actually attending it.

“Where are you going? If you don't mind me asking,” he asks, the sounds of the world come rushing back and Ben’s walking next to you now. 

He must have slowed his steps for you, his eyes are still so blue even under the dull lights. You didn't realize you made it to the cafe already. It smells warm of vanilla, a stark contrast from the artificial smell of cleaning products the rest of the airport gave off. Ben is still looking at you.

“San Diego,” you answer plainly as you step into line. Two blonde-haired teen girls stand in front of you, giggling about something. In Front of them is a college-aged student with heavy bags and headphones over her ears, she's ordering something with too many shots of espresso.

Ben laughs, “Me too. La Jolla.”

“Clairemont.” 

A beat of silence. Ben rocks on his feet and puts one hand over the other in front of him, his eyes darting to the menu. “What will you be having?”

You hum, overwhelmed by all the options. Maybe this is the time to try something new, you think. 

“just an iced latte with espresso.” old habits die hard. You always get that drink, no matter the cafe, no matter the state, no matter if a handsome and polite stranger offers to buy you anything you’d like. Maybe you should have gotten a matcha or a cappuccino to make yourself more interesting.

“Alright.” he nods. 

“Thank you,” you mutter.

“It's no problem,'' Ben smiles and it's so genuine, it feels strange to be on the receiving end of such a genuine smile from a man you met only a few moments ago. “If you want – you can grab a table or change out of those pants while I order.”

You look down at yourself, the sweatpants are practically dried now and you really didn't feel like digging through your bag in the middle of this cafe. “Thank you, again.”

Ben just nods and you roll your suitcase and yourself to a table, it's sitting next to the glass window and looking at a middle-aged man passed out on a bench. You hope he doesn't miss his boarding time. A group of adults with fruity drinks laugh together, surrounded by luggage. 

your fingers brush your hair out of your face, taking a deep breath in and just settling, only for a moment. Glancing back to the front, Ben is ordering and the barista has a smile on his face. With a look of familiarity in his eyes as he speaks to Ben, it's obvious they are speaking about more than just coffee order, he must be an old friend. 

Quickly, the unknown but apparently familiar barista glances towards you, and back to Ben's face once he notices you were looking too. That was embarrassing. His face is painted with surprise, and happiness when he looks back to Ben, just before you could look away and dwell on your own life. 

Ben comes walking back, you sit up straighter so maybe he doesn't get the impression your rethinking all your life choices up to now. You know? Bad first impressions and all. 

Well, you may have already checked that box now. Great.

“So,” he smiles, setting two cups down. A piping hot chai with lavender and honey and your drink, a simple latte. “What's in San Diego that you've decided to travel to during a blizzard?”

“Uh,” you stutter, do you lie so as not to get into the dread of why you wish to not be going? Hmmm, he is a complete stranger as well. “Well, I didn't technically choose to travel during this. Mother nature as her own mind.”

Ben chuckles, “That is true, I guess.”

“A party.” you spit out. “A New Year's party, I've had it every year since sophomore year.” 

“Oh, college or high school?”

“High school.”

He sits back, an amused smile, maybe even a little shocked as you’re in your early 30s now. “Wow, long-time tradition.”

“Yeah.” you breathe, sipping at your latte. It is pretty good, you are glad you followed this stranger into this cafe. Better than Starbucks, god, you could roll your eyes.

“Excited?”

Your eyebrows furrow, “excuse me?”

“Are you excited about the party?” he clarifies.

Are you this out of your mind? Nothing feels real right now.

You pause, almost choking on your own words. Do you lie? 

“Yes.” you keep it short and simple, gritting your teeth.

Ben hums, seeming not too convinced. You had never been a good actor before.

“Sorry,” you say before Ben could even ask if you were lying, “I'm not good at small talk.”

“That so?” his eyebrows quirks up, “big talk then. What first? Politics? Religions? The meaning of life? Pineapple on pizza?”

You smile, “It's criminal, fruit doesn't belong on pizza.”

“Oh, have you tried it?” a cheeky grin falls to his face and he leans forward. 

“I don't feel I need to, I know it will taste horrible,” you say.

Ben just laughs at you and it's warm and genuine and it's nice enough to wear it rings in your ears and for a moment, muffles out any thought of him. You think, maybe you can get used to this. Once again, your eyes find the world around you and you begin to notice more and more stressed passengers scrambling for their brains and flight times. You sigh, a part of you wishes you could care so much. 

Ben observes everything too, he looks almost nostalgic. You've known this man for only twenty minutes and he's been the most interesting or mysterious man you've encountered in a while. You're not sure which word is best to describe him yet, you haven't decided.

“All hell is going to break loose soon, we’ll have to make a game plan,” he says, deadly serious and it makes you smile. It's never been that easy.

“Game plan?”

“Of course.” Ben sits up straighter. “We’ll need to find food, shelter, chargers, and entertainment. In order of importance.” 

The question slips off your tongue, “You seem familiar with this, do you travel a lot.”

An emotion flashes across his face, it's unknown to you, but it didn't seem very positive. You'd wish you held your tongue, instead, you sip your coffee.

“Somewhat, more as a kid than now.” you're trying not to overanalyze the way he sounds sad when he said that like it was a pain to come back. It's probably nothing. You sip your coffee again and so does he. 

Ben's eyes glance to the clock, “well, we should probably get to it.”

It's funny, you don't realize this now but the way he doesn't need to ask, or you need to request teaming up on surviving the O’hare international airport blizzard. But you do, you get up and follow him again as he begins to ask you about your favorite food, if you're vegan or gluten-free. Maybe it is the bonding over coffee and assholes that molded this, an unspoken bond within 30 minutes. It's quite impressive, you think. 

You just hope he doesn't turn out to be creepy or some serial killer luring you in with his charm and blue eyes, it seems like a recipe for another Ted Bundy. But within those piercing blues, you see kindness and a sort of pain you would only be able to recognize in yourself. Maybe you have a strong intuition, or maybe you're stupid, but you continue to follow him into a small convenience store. 

The air still smells like a cleaning product, you catch a whiff of garlic when you walk past a certain aisle and then cold air once you reach the back. You grab a water and soda, a few strides to the right and you turn around, one thing of pringles and gum. You look up and see Ben's hair bobbing up and down as he walks down another aisle, just before he shows himself in front of you with handfuls of his own snacks. 

“All good?” he asks you, checking up on you. It's sweet.

“Mhm.”

The cashier rings you both up, once again, Ben knows the cashier.

“Haven't seen you around her in awhile, Ben.” her raspy voice speaks, she looks to be in her 60s with a head of shoulder-length gray hair. She balanced red glasses on the tip of her nose and wears a soft, apologetic smile as she greets him.

“Can't stay in Chicago forever,” he says, you think about what that means. He said he traveled a lot. Maybe you think too much.

Her hand grazes over the bag of m&m’s, the yellow-colored pouch ones with peanuts. Her face goes sour, a stark and surprising contrast from the happy customer service mask you recognize. She holds them in front of her like it was a flaw, but she doesn't say anything and lets Ben notice it first. He does.

“Oh,” he says, almost like he surprised himself that'd picked them up and carried them all the way here. “Habit. I'll put them back.”

Habit? 

You watch the interaction with a solid confusion from start to end, feeling like an outsider watching from within, an inside joke you can’t seem to grasp. From the apologetic, embarrassed, and solemn faces – it definitely isn't funny though. Ben speeds up, grasping the package all too tightly with his eyes trained on the ground and then he disappears around in isle.

The cashier looks back at you, she doesn't know you but she knows Ben. She smiles, it's a sad smile and she understands your confusion.

“They were his little brother’s favorite.” is all she says, you're still confused and your brain urges you to ask more. It feels way too personal though, and Ben is already back with empty hands.

He pays, you pay. You try not to think too hard about what it means and why she looked so sad telling you that, you don't think to ask either.

________________________________

Ben's palms are hot and sweaty as he wipes them on his pants, he's doing better. He's talking to new people, new people being a very pretty stranger during a flight delay. Only one small slip-up, it wasn't his fault really, muscle memory because normally Anakin would kill him for not getting his m&m’s. Maybe he should have just bought them anyway.

He passed the terminal D sign, he could navigate this place blind. Your railing close next to him looking around curiously, shelter. That was the next part of the game plan. 

“Over here,” he mutters, glancing at you. Show you a mostly deserted corner, a free outlet (rare), and close enough to a flight board so each of you'd be able to keep up to date. Not like Ben really wants to see those red words turn green, shamefully. 

You settle in, you drop your backpack, and park your suitcase against a wall. Ben goes straight for the outlet with his charger, got to hog them before any iPad kids can. You follow and sit next to him on the large window sill, his phone buzzes alive and he's met with a picture of Leia and Luke crawling onto his shoulder. It was when they were only 5 years old and they'd taken a trip to the beach for Ben's birthday, it was also the last time he'd seen either of them. He bites back a frown. 

“Cute kids.” your voice brings him down to gravity, and his head started spinning in the convenience store. Forgetting you were looming over his shoulder. “They yours?”

“Oh, no.” Ben gulps, “my niece and nephew, they're twins.”

You just smile and not, not saying anything else. 

“You should probably change out of those pants. Do you have something else to change into?” Ben asks, eyeing your stuff.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you for reminding me.” you jump down from the window sill and zip open your suitcase. Ben watched as you rummage through your clothes to pull out a pair of black shorts, “I'll be right back, save my spot?”

“Of course.” 

And you headed to the restrooms. 

Ben looks back down at your wide-open suitcase, he's not nosey or creepy, but he notices the short and sparkly dress laid out on the top. It looks incredibly fancy and even a little skimpy. He thinks you'd look pretty in it.

You come back in no time, legs on displacement and Ben notices your beat-up converse, little doodles along the soles. Ben smiles to himself. 

“Do you mind if I ask?” the words leave his mouth without permission, and he glances back to the sparkly fabric absolutely intrigued. He's probably crossing some personal line right now, but his mind can't stop thinking of your face - compared to now, at least – when he asked if you were excited. You say yes with a disappointed look while sitting in a long line knowing your flight will be delayed with a satisfied look in your eyes. It's curious, but Ben thinks he understands fully.

 “Are you actually excited for this party?” 

You look like you've been hit with a brick, for a stranger to be able to suspect your real emotions so well, to be able to read you, to detach that carefully crafted method of acting. You look down at your shoes, clench your fist and look back up at him. Smiling, it's not genuine, but it's what he would call a smile, “no, not really.”

Ben nods, he understands.

You huff and shoulder slack, sitting next to him. The secrets out and the boulders on your shoulder begin to lift, slightly. The overbearing weight that you could still be eating on a slight soon still hangs heavy over your head. 

“It's horrible, but I was actually so excited to find out about my flight delaying.” you laugh to yourself, it's self-depreciative. “It's just…” the words begin to slip out of your mouth, “I've known these people forever and obviously, you go through a lot with people you've known that long, but we still make an obligation to go to this party no matter what. This year though, some of my relationships with people there are a bit shakier than usual.”

“I understand,'' Ben breathed out. His voice shakier than usual, now he won't let the water break the damn, he's sure of it.

“You do?” you light up ever so slightly, looking at him with sudden curious eyes. A sense of understanding and someone to bear your burdens with, your shoulders look even more relaxed. Ben wants to curse at himself when he notices your lip quirked up when you start to speak. “What troubles face you on the other side of this stupid flight.”

Maybe he won't let himself crack, maybe.

Ben gulps, “Yes, uh.” he thinks, should he? “My family–”

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” You seem cautious, but Ben would be a hypocrite if he didn’t even vaguely explain his situation after you practically spilled your guts in the wonderfully terminal D of O’hare international airport. “I know how some family drama can be.”

“No, it's okay.” he laughs off your incredible consideration, breathing heavily. Why does he do this to himself? Just don't mention Anakin, he tells himself that it's going to make any difference once he opens his mouth. The damn always breaks. 

You nod and sit patiently, attentively and it makes Ben's chest thump. What is wrong with him? He frowns with pink-tinted ears because what good has come from learning to pretend? 

“My sister-in-law and I don’t have the greatest relationship, currently…” Don't mention him, don't say his name. “So I haven't seen my niece and nephew for a while.” your eyes widen, not because of the simple fact of what he said. No, you feel bad about asking, obviously, it's a sore subject. You think you should have known, but you didn't. “And no good has really come from that either, I've pretty much been digging myself a hole with her and the kids over the past few years and well, their tenth birthday is in a few days so I'm trying to make steps to apologize for my absence.”

You don't say anything, but you understand. Ben can tell by the way you're looking at him, you know there more though. You don’t push or prod, you wait.

“But it's very scary, as you can tell,” he says, avoiding eye contact and looking at his sweaty palms, he's still sitting on the window seal with blinking city lights just past you two. The cold feeling on the large glass panels calms him and single-handedly keeps him back from breaking down. Ben learns to find comfort in the dangerous blizzard, strange, isn't it? He's never liked the cold before.

“I feel guilty for being happy about the delay, I should be excited to see them.”

A beat of silence, he shouldn't have said that. A failure of an uncle, a bad listener, and a bad person. He's just laying it all out too, ironic. Just as he called himself a hypocrite.

“Well all my best friends are at this New years party and you don't see my moping around about this flight delay, hm?” you say like it's just that easy, maybe it should. “Don't feel too guilty, you are nervous, you're human.”

You're human.

______________________________________

It's been an hour, you think.

Actually, you're not sure about it all. having not checked the time in a while, much more occupied by beating Ben at uno. It's been borderline embarrassing having handfuls of cards as he yells uno for the 8th time. But hey, you're learning things about each other whilst doing it, and how bad is getting to know a charming, handsome stranger with a toothy grin even if he's absolutely killing you with +four cards.

“Uno!” you look up to see a cheeky grin and unfortunately, one uno card in his hand.

“You have to be cheating!” you murmur.

“Sorry, I'm just very good at reading people.” he quips back and you hate the shine in his eye as he speaks, it's making it very hard to be mad at him.

“You know, if the shoe fits.” you nervously put down a green five, eyes glancing up at him as Ben watched you intensely. His face is empty and calm, but Ben puts down his last card and you erupt into a pained groan. “This is horrible for me!”

Ben just laughs softly, grabbing the deck of cards and yours and beginning to shuffle them once more. You originally planned to sleep off or even finish that book you've long neglected during this delay, anything to not think, but this. This was an alternative you were okay with. 

Most of the airport got the memo, keeping watchful eyes on the flight information and listening ear to the announcer. For those that could – slept, read, snacked away. Parents did anything to keep their children quiet or entertained. It was a sort of humility you'd only ever see during such a situation, it helped the doom brewing in your chest.

“So what did you say you did for a living?” you ask, as Ben hands you another seven cards.

A new discovery was made soon after you got to know Ben. Small talk is much more bearable whilst multitasking, so those awkward beats aren't filled with even more awkward little “interesting” or “that's so cool,” which are most of the time, very ingenuine. 

But the small talk you started with had slowly snowballed into big talk, or whatever Ben has called it in the cafe. You'd learned Ben's favorite color was blue, he was thirty-nine. obviously, he's very good at uno. That one you figured out on your own, besides that, it's been purely basics. 

“Well, I am currently unemployed.” Ben swallows, putting down a red nine.

You put down a red-three, “almost forty and unemployed. You're brave.”

“Are you shaming unemployed people?” he deadpanned and his certain sarcastic demeanor makes you giggle.

“No! I've been there once, you know,” you add, leaning back to get a good view of your cards before getting another down. “I just mean, what do you do with your life?”

“Mope.”

“Be serious, Ben!”

“Okay, okay.” he settles, putting down another card. “I am currently living off the government's money, army back pay. I read books, and visit cafes. Read books in cafes, draw pictures in them too, but only sometimes.”

“Army?” that would explain the military bag, the non-humanly straight posture, and definitely the traveling.

Ben looks away, almost embarrassed when he speaks, “Twenty years.”

You want to gawk, but that'd be rude. Should you say thank you for your service? Based on his demeanor now, you don’t think that's a great idea. It's always forced and no one really means it anyways. 

Instead, you ask probably an even worse question. “Why'd you leave?”

Ben's figure taps rapidly on his card in hand, he's trying his best to keep eye contact with you but you can tell it's hard for him. You regret asking him that, maybe you should have stayed in your comfortable small talk area.

“My brother,” Ben starts, barely holding himself together by grasping at the uno card. “He passed almost 10 years ago and I decided then I would leave since he had just had children.”

Oh, that’s what the moment in the convenience store was about. You think about this place and everyone that seems to know him, assuming they knew his brother as well. This airport must bring some conflicting memories.

“That was very considerate of you, Ben.” You answer honestly, your mouth feels dry as the syllable leaves his mouth. 

“It was hard.” Ben looks down at his hands and shuffles the few uno cards in his hands. “I’m not a patriotic person but the military was my life. I left to help my brother's wife and didn’t realize I would need help after making that decision.”

There’s a beat of silence. You feel an uneasy rage for Ben, rage towards the corrupt military system and how it treats its veterans. That’s definitely something that can be hashed out another time. 

“I failed her.”

It scares you how sincere and accepting he is of the phrase that he spoke, too comfortable with his failings like it’s a second skin. 

“What are you doing?” You ask softly.

Ben's head shoots up, confused, caught off-guard. “What?”

You nod ahead, urging his response because you know he heard you.

“I, uh,” Ben stutters for the first time since you’ve met, which arguably, isn’t that long. “I’m getting on a plane, to see my nieces and nephew for their birthday.”

You smile, not bothering to say anything, hoping he gets what you were getting at. Maybe you’re an optimist for everyone but yourself, or a fool. Ben looks ahead at you, intense eye contact grows and you feel his stare in your stomach. It’s strange. 

Ben knows what you’re saying, knows that you see he’s trying, and do not believe he’s a failure. You see it, and you’ve known him for less than a day. Scary.

“Uno.” 

Ben looks down at your hands and sees one card, he smiles.

_______________________

“Do you have any pets?” 

A few more hours pass, and an empty uno card and another solo trip for caffeine later. The careful question games continue.

“No, but I used to have a husky.”

You gasp, almost choking on your spit since the dynamic of hanging your head upside down off a bench didn’t agree with that exasperation. “That’s so cool.”

“She was very pretty,” Ben says, he sounds a little occupied but not annoyed. It’s nice and helps with your overwhelming boredom. “Do you?”

“I wish,” you say. “I think my landlord would crucify me, my plants will suffice.”

“Do you name them?” 

“What?”

Ben laughs like he knows the question itself sounds a little ridiculous. “Do you name your plants?”

“No, I don’t think I’d be able to keep track.” You look at Ben from the corner of your eye, he lay covered in a tan-colored shawl. 

The airport had started to grow chilly and your choice of camping out by the large windows maybe wasn’t too practical, the pretty lights make up for it. Ben looks comfy, his black sweats and crème colored sweatshirt make him look too good, way too good. A man that knows color theory is dangerous. Hoping he doesn’t notice your lingering glances.

“I’m assuming you name your plant then.” You taunt.

“Oh, yes.” He pauses to yawn, “any sane person would.”

“Are you calling me insane?” You spring up, blood rushing to your head and leaving you a little dizzy. Shooting playful daggers at Ben, failing to hide the quirk on the corner of your lip as you speak.

“What? Never.” He’s dripping with sarcasm. Rolling your eyes, you get to your feet and make small strides to sit next to Ben.  

“I thought about being a landscaper,” Ben adds.

“Oh, so you like plants that much?”

He chuckles under his breath, “I guess you could say that. Being able to design spaces and make nature more beautiful than it already is – deeply interests me.

“I say go for it.”

Ben's head cranes and he looks at you, looking for something in your features. He must have found it because he looks satisfied when he turns away and says, “I might have to.”

Ding!

Both of your heads shoot down to your phone as it lights up, just some random email, probably about work or some store you signed up for sending you more 30% coupons. 

“Are those your friends?” Ben says, eyes still looking at your phone. Not the email, your wallpaper. In photos from last year's party, everyone sat on the couch, some on the floor in front, and some laying on the back above everyone. “I’m sorry if I’m being nosy.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh, despite the sting in your chest thinking about the memory. It’s fair though, considering you were in the same scenario earlier, prodding about his life and generally being nosy. You had forgotten that photo was even in your wallpaper album, the phone turns off and back on to re-notify you of the email, and a new photo is replaced. “And yes, those are my friends.”

“You seem awfully happy and close to dreading this trip,” Ben adds.

“We are close but,” you drag out, contemplating your words. Bens watching you so attentively, almost zoned in on your face and lips. His eyebrow quirks with curiosity and anticipation.

“But?” Ben prods, not that you mind.

“It’s stupid.” You drop your head shamefully.

“I doubt that.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Oh, I doubt that even more.” He says under a breathy life, an amused smile dances on his lips.

“You’re laughing right now!” You accuse him, but Ben's eyes dance around your face first, looking for something. His mouth opens to speak, he knits his eyebrows and draws back.

“Excuse me then, I’m serious and definitely will not laugh,” Ben says, you want to smack the grin on his face.

You also really want to know what he was going to say before that statement.

Groaning, “Fine.”

You breathe in once and another out, “there’s this boy, we’ve had a complicated relationship for many, many years now. Last year it kind of all came to a stop after some… decisions. We haven’t spoken for a year now and I’m just, I don’t know, dreading seeing him.”

Ben hums, and you watch for a response. For him to laugh for being so stressed out over such a silly reason, especially in comparison to his problems. Not that it’s a competition. 

“That’s certainly not stupid.”

You want to roll your eyes, sarcastically you murmur, “Sure.”

“I’m serious,” Ben affirms. He does sound incredibly serious, you shift nervously in your seat. Your knee brushing against his thigh as you sit with your legs crossed, Ben tenses slightly. “Don’t undermine your feelings. I understand your nervousness, I know I do not know the full story but may I share some advice?

“No one is stopping you.” 

Ben yawns once more, excusing such actions before continuing. “This boy, no matter what experiences you’ve had, he’s just a boy. I don’t think you should put so much weight on it and let him ruin your happiness. You shouldn’t worry too much about the past, it’s happened and you can’t change it, focus on the now.”

You snort, “Easier said than done.”

Ben makes a sound of agreement before facing you, leaning in way too close. He raises a hand and taps the temple of your forehead, “It's all up here, once you put in the work, your mind will fill in the blanks and adapt.”

You feel his breath as he speaks, much less focused on his words of advice and rather trying not to drown in the pair of Atlantic blue’s absolutely staring you down. You feel vulnerable and stripped down under his glare, but warm and seen. 

With another yawn, Ben and you share another knowing glance. “I think your mind wants to sleep, Ben.”

Ben purses his lips, as to protest before realizing he is defeated. Before he can reply, you reassure him, “I’ll watch your flight.”

So you do, and Ben sleeps. Pretty quickly he had fallen asleep and your shoulder burned when eventually his head dropped on it. You didn’t mind, quite the opposite, it was just a new sensation you weren’t mentally prepared to hash out in the particular circumstances. 

Looking down you see his scruff, sandy hair with blonde highlights that look way too tempting to run your hands through. His lashes are long, you're jealous. The colors he wears make him look warm and comfy, you see a scar on his forehead and cheekbone, next to his

Mole. If you looked closer and maybe if it wasn’t winter, you’d see freckles littered across his nose.

Thinking about how he called himself a failure, kept his niece and nephew as his wallpaper despite how long it’s been since he’s seen them. You wonder what his plants' names are and if he has a favorite, you hope he gets to become a landscaper. Imagining him in a cozy sweater, at some warm cafe with a cappuccino and sketchbook drawing beautiful gardens and decorated patios, just to turn them into reality.

You fully understand what you're doing is a dangerous game, you know this routine in and out. The wondering, the gawking, and imagining. You’d always romanticize and fill in gaps with romance, it’s what brought you to your current dilemma. Now you sit with a stranger, in a Chicago airport with him sleeping on your shoulder as you imagine yourself sitting across from him in coffee shops.

_______________________

“....Flight 213 to Clairemont airport is boarding at terminal D, gate 2….”

You shifted your head, eyes blinking open to the fluorescent lights above you. 

“Last call for flight 213 to Clairemont airport is boarding at terminal D, gate 2….”

That's your fight, you sprung up, not realizing your head has been resting on a still-asleep Ben’s lap. His neck rolled back onto the edge of the uncomfy airport benches. You ruffled your hair, looked at your watch. You'd been asleep for maybe an hour, your eyes searched for your flight on the board. It was indeed boarding, finding Ben's shortly after. You would probably jump out of a plane right now if you missed it because you fell asleep.

 Ben needs to see his family and if you're the cause of that not happening… you'd never forgive yourself. Your eye found the number 215, Still delayed, which is still unfortunate but good for now. 

You wished you had time to bask in the innocence and calmness on Ben's face before having to wake him up, you were on a time schedule though. 

Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, the fabric of his sweatshirt was way too inviting. “Ben, Ben, come on sleepyhead. Wake up, Ben,” you spoke softly, you saw his eyes begin to lull open.

“Anakin?”

Your eyebrows knotted, reeling back, “What? Ben, wake up. I have to go.”

“Anakin, i'm sorry.” his voice was rough from sleep, and sorrow filled. His voice almost cracked in his dreamlike state.

Looking at your watch again, You need to go, but you weren't inconsiderate enough to leave without saying something. Your hand grasped his shoulder and shook him gently, his eyes shot open and his breath caught up. For a moment, you wondered if you should mention the name, better not. 

The life came back to Ben, frantically looking around to check where he was before his eyes found you, fully conscious this time. His name left his lips quietly.

“I have to go, they did the last call,” you babbled, beginning to gather the small amount of things you had out. Phone, charger, snacks… check, check, check.

Ben was shifting awake and to his feet above you, you noticed him peering at the flight plans as well. “Uh, do you need any help?” he came to your aid as you somewhat frantically stuffed and zipped your bag up.

You found yourself stuck in a gaze with him again, his eyebrows were slightly furrowed with sleep still lingering and he swallowed nervously. Suddenly, your mouth felt cotton dry. 

“Don't forget what I told you, okay?” 

Your chest feels heavy, a strange feeling creeps up your neck that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Reeling up and preparing for this to end, like some fucked up story or abruptly ended song. Slick palms grasp your backpack strap and suitcase handle, as you now stand face to face.

“I won't.” you swallowed, “thank you, Ben.”

Ben smiles, it's small but so genuine and so sweet that your teeth begin to ache.

You think it's appropriate to say goodbye now, but it feels wrong, so wrong. Maybe you’re selfish and the thought of saying bye to him despite the circumstances leaves a bad, yearning feeling in your mouth and doom deep in your chest. 

“Good luck,” you decide, the implication doesn't hurt any less but it feels like you're letting yourself down easier.

“And to you too.” Ben nods.

You begin to turn and find your gate. It feels like your body hit a brick wall, your knees don't move except to let you turn around and look back.

One last look.

“Hey, Ben,” you say, and god, his eyes are piercing. Even with so many feet between you, this was a dangerous tightrope you were balancing on now. “You haven't failed anyone, and don't dig yourself a hole and give anyone a reason to think you have, yeah?”

“I promise.”

Then, you turn back around and prepare for the flight ahead.

-

Comment to be added to the tag list to be the first to hear when part 2 and 3 come out!!

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan my beloved #obi wan kenobi fic #obi wan x reader #obi wan star wars #star wars fic #fanfic

[theficpusher]

Kiwi by dimpled_halo | M | 6080 The last place Louis expects to see Harry again after ten years is performing at a music festival in Chicago.

the one who stays and the one leaving you by dragmedown | M | 10315 Fuck. He had just slept with none other than Harry Styles. ⛸️ OR the stolen hoodie and lost panties AU

A Few Very Good Mistakes by louisandthealien | nr | 12172 He almost wishes there were a better story. "Fucked up pop star ends five day bender by wandering into a dive bar alone and passing out in public." That would've generated press, he thinks, and if there's one thing that's constantly on his mind (or more accurately, on the mind of everyone else around him) it's that all press is good press, and good press is good press but bad press is great press. Besides, he's 25 and trying to do the whole transition from boyband to solo pop star. He's pretty sure a press-fueled meltdown is, like, a right of passage. The truth, alas, is a whole lot more boring. --- Louis falls asleep in Harry's bar. Harry takes him home to hang out.

Prelude to Forever by AlwaysAqua | M | 13503 @StylinHarry: So I kinda fell for a boy yesterday at #ChiPride. Kissed & fireworks went off. Literally. He’s a drama teacher. Goes by “Louis” but I prefer Sunshine. Very pretty. The prettiest. Got separated & I’m a fucking idiot who forgot to get his number. Anyone know him? #helpfindsunshine Or, Louis and Harry meet at Pride in Chicago and spend the day falling for each other before getting accidentally separated.

Soup Of The Day by jacaranda_bloom | E | 19958 It had been the single minded goal for them since college and seemed simple enough. 1. Study hard. 2. Open their dream restaurant. 3. Take the culinary world by storm. What could possibly go wrong? Or the Restaurant AU where Louis and Niall are chefs, Chicago is windy, and cracking the big time is harder than they ever imagined. But when a mysterious man starts grading Louis' soups by leaving little piles of rocks, could it be just the thing they need to get them on the road to success?

i talk out loud like you're still around by vaultingus | M | 24693 photographer!louis / model!harry chicago, u.s. louis sighs into empty air and takes pictures for indie labels and promises himself he’ll be better this time. harry still has pink lips but they used to smile so much more and he does his best work when he’s in a war with the camera. it’s hard to be found when you don’t think you’re lost.

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by allwaswell16 | E | 30164 It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore. Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago

You're the Light by allwaswell16 | E | 31285 Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper and staying with his old college roommate. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

In The Name of Being Honest by sunflouwerhabit, therogueskimo | M | 123563 Back at his desk, Louis closed his eyes for a moment, trying to settle into the reality of this. He was leaving the UK for only the second time in his life. Suddenly, the holiday he took to Spain three summers ago felt like it paled in comparison. He was going to the U.S. - for work, it was true, but still - alone. He’d been all for seizing the moment when his boss had been looking at him with a gaze of steel, but now he felt vaguely nauseous. Louis took several shaky breaths, feeling like the air was being sucked from the room, and opened the manila folder, laying it flat on his desk. His breath caught as he saw the destination, centered in a large, block font at the very top of the first page: Robinson Publishing - Chicago, Illinois, United States of America. ~~~ After two years of living in an everlasting cycle of work, sleep, and regret, Louis finds himself wandering brand new streets perpetually haunted by the ghosts of his past. The Chicago Fic.

#chicago #kiwi #the one who stays and the one leaving you #A Few Very Good Mistakes #Prelude to Forever #Soup Of The Day #i talk out loud like you're still around #Bitter Ends Turn Sweet #You're the Light #In The Name of Being Honest #dimpled_halo #dragmedown #louisandthealien #AlwaysAqua #jacaranda_bloom #vaultingus #allwaswell16 #sunflouwerhabit #therogueskimo

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that involve racing of any kind as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

🏁 pray for some sweet simplicity by delsicle / @eeveelou

(E, 237k, motorcycle racing) an AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

🏁 Something In The Distance (So Close You Can Almost Taste It) by magicalou

(T, 180k, F1) Louis is a Formula 1 driver for Scuderia Ferrari and Harry is a painter and sculptor, one of the most beloved from our time, and Louis's biggest pain in the ass.

🏁 The Finish Line (Is A Good Place For Us To Start) by LoadedGunn

(E, 121k, F1) The first thing Louis does is take him under his wing. From there it’s nine months of slow-burning romance, the past catching up to them, turning into the human puppy pile that is OT5 and a lot of feelings until, of course, reaching the finish line.

🏁 run away home by @hattalove

(E, 106k, horse racing) louis is a successful jockey down on his luck, struggling to get his life back on track after an injury. harry has a horse, a house fit for a prince, and a broken heart.

🏁 Counterbalance by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 44k, motorcycle racing) Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry’s class.

🏁 My Saddle's Waiting by @realitybetterthanfiction

(E, 28k, street racing) When Harry finds himself in charge of Ford's installation at the Chicago Auto Show, there's already a lot on the line. Little does he know that a seemingly harmless bet on the fastest pony car might just up the stakes even more.

🏁 Ten Second Car by orphan_account

(E, 14k, street racing) AU in which Harry goes undercover to catch illegal street racers robbing rigs and instead falls in love with the bad guys brother. Based off of The Fast & The Furious (2001)

🏁 You Made A Slow Disaster Out Of Me by lzcatalina / @harryandlouisarehappilystrong

(E, 13k, street racing) Louis was the king of illegal street racing who rarely lost, Harry was the newcomer who beat him in the first race and nearly ran him over.

🏁 kings of the castle by orphan_account

(M, 4k, horse racing) harry is the son of architects who bet on horse races and louis is the prettiest jockey he might've ever seen in all his betting years.

—Rare Pairs—

🏁 Slow Me Down by @justonebreathx

(E, 55k, Niall/Harry) the one where Harry is a NASCAR driver down on his luck until he meets Niall and suddenly everything in his life is right again.

🏁 Trip And Fall On Me by @fluffypiecake

(M, 38k, Zayn/Harry) You don't do what you're told. Bend and break, bend and break.

🏁 (dressed in black) from head to toe by soundingawkward

(G, 3k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) nick hates the mud and the cold and all things about this stupid dirt bike rally, except for one muddy, grotty, dirt bike riding boy.

#ficrec #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #1dficvillage #1dsource

[stealingyourbones]

DP/DC WEEK DAY FIVE

Prompts for November 18th. @avaritia-apotheosis

My Masterlist of DP/DC Prompts.

A Royal Problem: 

All magic users could sense that something was very very wrong. No one was sure of what exactly but they knew that extremely powerful magic scales of power were shifting and they were shifting fast. Smashcut to Danny. Have you ever suddenly gone from a relatively powerful hero to a being to the power of a god within a day? You probably haven’t but let it be known that it is anything BUT pleasant. 

(Danny, Jazz, or Danielle) have a slight issue. Their significant other has been slowly forming a core ever since they started dating. Asking Frostbite, it’s because of a very powerful and ancient spell that assures the Ruler of the Infinite Realms (and their heirs) to have their chosen lover for the rest of the afterlife. They need to discuss this with their significant other because they did NOT sign up for this.

Someone’s bound to notice all the weird things in Amity:

Oliver Queen heads to Amity to make a deal with VladCo. He’s truly baffled why the JL hasn’t been informed of this town. Genuinely. How the fuck does this place not get constant press coverage? Strangest yet, Why does literally no one believe that he ever went to the town in the first place, much less his stories of strange shit that happened during his stay? Why does no one even acknowledge that the town even exists?! What is happening?!

Amity Park has been considered a deadzone for decades. A subsidiary of Manhattan Project branch Chicago Pile-1 had been located in Amity Park, Illinois. Its main research was to test the substance known as Ectoranium. After The Amity Reactor Incident in 1947, The town was considered a Nuclear Exclusion Zone. Finally in the year 2022, the town was finally declared safe to enter with protective gear. Sure, they expected a ghost town, but not a literal one. Somehow, against any and all predictions, the Town of Amity Park was still alive. Every single resident that was present in Amity on the day of the incident was still living and thriving. Each resident hasn’t aged a day since the reactor core went off. Somehow -there is a lot of somehow’s. Just as much if not more than the Who, What, Where’s and Why’s.- Somehow, the town managed to progress with the rest of society until 2003. After that point modern technology, fashion, everything. It all just... stopped. The town acted like something out of a cheesy tv show. Not a single resident had more than surface level amounts of personality. All besides four teenagers. The anomalies names are the following: Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton, Daniel Willian “Danny” Fenton, Samantha “Sam” Manson, and Tucker Foley. These four teenagers are seemingly the only “real” people in this entire town. They are the only people to have been affected mentally by these Ectoranium entity attacks. These children all show signs of severe mental trauma. Further testing and evaluations by a Psychologist is needed for an in depth examination. Possible causation of the four anomalies: All were present in the Fenton household on the day the Infinite Realm Portal was activated.

Jason goes to Amity and keeps hearing a voice that isn’t his own in his head. The things it says keep getting stranger. From informing him of the fastest and best route to avoid a ghost attack, to informing him of the best place to eat in town without ever being in the area, to encouraging Jason to check out the Fenton household. At first he doesn’t notice it. But after a few instances he can tell that something is speaking to him. Trying to communicate with him. The voice, Amity Park, wishes to protect the young halfa as it reminds them of their young protector.

A Royal Problem & Someone’s bound to notice all the weird things in Amity:

JL goes to Amity from a JL emergency call that they had absolutely no idea who the source of the call was. The caller talks like they’re acquaintances. After talking to their caller in Amity they figure out that they DO know each other… The League just Doesn’t Remember. Apparently Amity makes sure that no possible threat befalls Its Protector and wipes the minds of any outsider that leaves its borders. (Sentient Amity AU)

#FUCK I FORGOT YESTERDAY AND I HAD IT ALL WRITTEN OUT YALL GET AN EXTRA PROMPT AS A SORRY #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dpxdc #DP/DC WEEK 2022 #dp/dc

[cardboardheartss]

Short PAC : What Would NEWJEANS members Think of You

⚠️DISCLAIMER! TAROT CARDS ARE NOT 100% ACCURATE! TAKE EVERYTHING WITH A GRAIN OF SALT! IF MY INTERPRETATIONS ARE INCORRECT FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME!⚠️

remember to take a deep breath, and think about which pile you feel most connected to before you pick a pile to read!

you DO NOT have to resonate with this reading, if it doesn’t resonate with you, you can just leave it.😉

Pile 1 : NWJNS ZINE

Pile 2 : Chicago Bulls Group Photo

Pile 1 : NWJNS ZINE

Groups Overall Thoughts : The Magician, KNoW rx & Strength rx

NEWJEANS members would think you’re a good communicator and you have the resources and the abilities to succeed in life. They would think you often times get frustrated really easily and you could have really scattered energy overall. They would also think you can be overly self critical and you just need to take a rest.

Hanni : KoP & The World

Hanni would think you’re really focused on your career and have a good relationship with your family and friends. She’d think you’d be a good business leader. She could also notice that you could have some hidden insecurities but you’re good at hiding it. Hanni would see you as being really diplomatic and thinks you’d do well with overseas travel.

Danielle : The High Priestess

Danielle would think you’re analytical and have many hidden secrets. She’d think you’re a really balanced person overall and she’d think you listen to your gut/inner voice a lot.

Hyein : PoS

Hyeij would think you’re really talkative and have a thirst for knowledge. She’d think you have many bright ideas and you like reading through social media and news articles too.

Haerin : KoS rx

Haerin would think you have an iron heart, and you seem cold and aggressive in her eyes. She’d think you possibly use people to your own advantage.

Minji : PoW

Minji would think you’re energetic and fearless. She’d think you’re also really competitive and that’s good because you’d continue being mentally strong and empowered.

Pile 2 : Chicago Bulls Group Photo

Groups Overall Thoughts : 8oC, 7oC & 7oP rx

NEWJEANS members would think you’re going through something, they could also think you’re wise and are currently doing some soul searching. They would also think that you have scattered energy as well and you’re emotionally overwhelmed. The members would also think you lack patience and you struggle finishing things off.

Hanni : 4oS

Hanni would think you need to rest, she thinks the stress is getting to you and you should avoid conflicts.

Danielle : PoP rx

Danielle would think you procrastinate a lot and you lack confidence too. She thinks you need to be more grounded.

Hyein : 9oW rx

Hyein would think you’re letting go of something and you lack willpower. She thinks you lack consistency and that has led you to be more overwhelmed and exhausted.

Haerin : The Devil rx

Haerin would think you’re hiding your true self? She thinks you need to seek help and go through some shadow work in order to find the real you.

Minji : QoS rx

Minji thinks you’re overly critical and you hold onto a lot of trauma. She’d think you’re a bit pessimistic and fearful.

Thank you for reading 📦

(this is the only short pac I’m posting today because i had interpreted these cards back in Jan, and I’m only posting it today 😭)

#black tarot readers #tarot reading #kpop tarot #tarot #celeb tarot #tarotcommunity #kpop #tarot master list #pac #pick a pile #pick a card #newjeans tarot #hyein #haerin #minji #hanni #danielle

[nightmaree-eyess]

Orange is the last of us pt 2

Tlou fic based on oitnb

Summary: after abby got released from prison your resentment builds

Tags: prison au, femme reader, y/n, angst

Word count: 1702

Pt 1:

Divider @cafekitsune

Weeks and weeks go by and the letters keep coming in from abby. You can't bring yourself to read them. Maybe you do hold grudges after all. When you look at the envelopes all you can think is she got to walk free and you're still stuck in this piece of shit with stale air that lingers and agony oozing from the walls. It's not fair but that's life. You wouldn't wish her to come back to the personification of hell though. You wouldn't wish prison on your worst enemy. A part of you wants to read the letters she sends though. Gross curiosity about how she's doing. They taunt you.

“y/n mails here” a guard hands you an envelope and it's another letter from abby. This time instead of shoving it in the endless pile in your cabinet you bring it to the cafeteria at dinner to ask Ellie about it. They have history too and maybe she'll give you some advice.

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

“If i can guess what the letter says it probably says *speaking in deep voice* hey babe miss you now lemme eat your pussy” ellie makes a v with her fingers and brings it to her mouth to make a crude gesture

“I’m fucking serious ellie. I don't know what to do. I want to know if shes ok but i also dont give a fuck.” you groan

“Well which feeling is stronger? Your love or your resentment?”

And with that question you knew what you had to do

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

Later that night you end up reading the letter she sent. You take a deep breath to settle your nerves. Your hands are shaking as you take the letter out from the envelope.

Dear y/n,

You probably aren't opening these or if you are, i'm sure you don't really want to hear what i have to say. I doubt if th tables were turned that i would be reading this, but on the off chance that you are still reading, i want to try and explain myself which is difficult in a letter and would be so much easier face to face (even though im terrified that theyll lock me up if i step foot in there) i know that the situation in chicago seems fucked, but i promise i was protecting you.

There was a lot going on that I wasn't able to talk to you about and if I had had even a moment alone with you before the trial, I swear I would have been completely open and honest.

The last thing I want after everything we have been through is for you to feel lied to, or used in any way y/n, i promise.

I love you,

Abby xoxo

You sit there with your mouth agape.She wants to meet in person? What else can she even say? The next morning you ask your counsellor to add Abby to your visitors list. You wanna hear what she has to say. But you also miss having her in the same room as you. You miss sneaking touches under the table and kisses at night. You even miss your mundane conversations. She has a way of making you soft.

Couple days later you call Abby to arrange a Sunday for her to come up and see you. You're nervous but also excited to see her again.

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

That sunday you walk into the visitation room and there she is, sitting at the middle table and she catches your eye. You see a sparkle that wasn't there before and you're happy for her as much as you don't want to be. You give her a quick hug (which got you yelled at) and you sit across from her. Shes wearing that grey sweater that makes her muscles look so fucking good. It's your favorite sweater she owns.

“This is totally weird but, i'm in the wrong outfit”

“I like your sweater.” you reach out to touch her buff arms to just feel that she's real

“Its soft…like your resolve when you're offered a plea deal” you snided

“It came down at the very last minute, y/n. Abby sighed “And they promised me it would put Kubo away for good.”

“But it made me a perjurer and you a free woman.”

“I thought you were gonna tell the truth!” abby yelled

“And I thought you were gonna lie!” you yelled back

“What are we in a fucking novel or something?” Abby said this made you both chuckle.

“It's good to see your face”

You shake your head “I don't know what to say.”

“You have every right to be angry.” abby sits back in her chair and crosses her arms

“I don't know if I'm angry. I'm confused…by you.”

Abby chuckles “I'm confused by me, too. I'm pretty much the master of handling things completely wrong.”

“Well that's an understatement” you say flatly

“Im a fuck-up. And now i get to be a fuck-up in a shithole apartment in Queens. Too afraid to even open my curtains.” abby looks around the room and whispers

“I sleep with a gun.”

“You what?! Abby , what the hell? You're on probation.”

“There is a van parked outside my apartment everyday. He's trying to scare me. I wanna go out there with a baseball bat and smash the fucking windows in.” abby looks scared and defeated

“I should honestly start dealing again”

You look at her in disbelief

“Find a bigger, tougher new kingpin who can beat up my old kingpin”

“That's not funny” you say worryingly

“It's not a joke. What am I qualified to do? Huh? I have…I have no job. I'm scared shitless to leave my apartment. I got so used to sleeping with the lights on that I'm freaked out by the dark. My probation officer, Robert Hill, is a fucking joke. Bobby fucking Hill is my probation officer.” you guys both laugh

“King of the hill?”

“King of sitting on his fat fucking ass eating Little Debbies, hoping to bust me for some stupid infraction.” abby sighs and looks down at the table

“You'd think that part of his job would be to protect his probbies, you know?...Nobody gives a shit about ex-cons.” abby said defeated

“What are you gonna do?”

Abby sighs and presses her lips together “i'm skipping town”

“You can't”

“I don't have a choice. These people know where I live. That's why I wanted to see you. When I go, I can't come back. I have to disappear.”

You feel a sting hit the back of your eyes and everything sounds muffled.

“You- you can't leave me.” you say desperately

“y/n, i'm in danger i have no choice”

“But i dont have anyone left…”

We stare at each other, wishing it didn't have to be this way.

“I'm sorry y/n. I'm sorry for all of it. I know my track record id shit…but I really do love you.”

“Yeah well, I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

You look down at the table to hide your tears ``no… no i don't.”

“Visiting hours are over!” a guard yells and when you get up to leave you look at her one last time because you might never be able to again.

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

For the rest of the day you worry for abby. She can't be serious right? Skipping town is not the best idea but is it the only way to keep her away from Kubo and his minions? You have an idea to keep Abby from danger but it involves calling your ex fiance who slept with your best friend. He could have slept with anyone but he chose your best friend. Asshole. But he owes you at least this favor to make up for it. You would've said you were even and let it go if he didnt sleep with your best friend.

“Hey y/n” Barry picks up the phone

“Hey are you alone right now?”

“No im with holly and you're on speaker phone” holly says hi

“Ugh great, I need a favour.”

“Depends on what it is”

“I need you to call abby's parole officer and tell him shes breaking her parole”

“Why would I do that?”

“I giving you a chance to fuck over someone you hate.”

There's silence on the other end

“Fine if you won't do it holly will you?”

“Sure whats the name of her parole officer”

“Robert Hill. He works for the DOC in Queens.”

You hang up the phone cause you really dont wanna be talking to them longer than you have to. At least the plan is in motion. It might seem a little selfish and you feel a tinge of guilt but with this plan at least you know she'll be safe. You can't let her skip town, start dealing again, or have Kubo find her. So you decide to be selfish. You wish it didn't come down to this. No one deserves to be in this cease pool, especially abby. You'll be taking this to your grave.

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

You're working outside today setting up for a mothers day event and the sunshine feels good on your face. The closest to freedom you have.

“Your little girlfriend is back” ellie says to me teasing

“Wha- what do you mean?”

“Yeah I saw her walking to her bunk from the intake. She looks beat up”

“I-I gotta go see her!” you start to walk away

“Inmate, get back here! You can't leave during work!” a guard yells and I slowly walk back with my hands up in surrender.

“You'll see her around. It's not like she's going anywhere.” ellie said

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

After work you go back to your bunk and see that the bed is finally occupied. Could this be Abby's stuff? That has to be a coincidence right? Many girls get processed through here everyday. What are the odds this is her stuff?

“We gotta stop meeting like this” a voice behind you says.

It's Abby. Fucking. Anderson.

#abby x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson fanfic #abby tlou #abby x y/n #abby x fem!reader #prison au #fanfic #orange is the new black au #fanfiction #abby fanfiction #tlou fic #abby the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #angst #part 2