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amourane · 7 days

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sweeter than candy

pairing: baker!james potter x baker!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 1.2k

summary: six years ago you left the small town you were trapped in and you would have never thought that the cute boy next door would be the one running the bakery your family once owned.

warnings: none

a/n: CUTE!

Since the very beginning of time you’ve always loved baking. Baking was your one true joy, your one true love. Ever since you could remember it was always you in the kitchen. The first thing you held was a spatula, the first thing you said was cake. There was something so amazing and fascinating about being able to whip up baked goods. You simply loved the satisfaction it gave you whenever the delicious treat was finished. Whether it be a cake or a pastry. You grew up surrounded by sweet treats and the scent of freshly baked goods in the air.

Both your parents co-owned a bakery and it was their pride and joy. You were often behind the counter helping to whip things up and it couldn’t have made you happier. The customers always commented on how one day you would be running the bakery, stepping into the shoes of your parents.

As you grew older you started to look at baking in a more professional way. You wanted what your parents had and you were going to achieve it. You went to culinary school, became an apprentice for bakers all around the world. Yet now it all seems to have failed as you find yourself back in the small little town you grew up in, living with your parents.

You were dragged away from your job to help your mother move into her new house. Ever since your father died, she had sold the bakery and it was just you and her. Being the great daughter you were you decided to assist her with whatever she needed but it seemed in vain considering how your mum was adamant she could do things on her own, a trait you inherited.

So now you were left to wonder about the small town and how it had grown while you were away. Most things had stayed the same and by most things you meant that the same old, dusty shops that had been there years prior. It was the same town you left six years ago. The nostalgia hit you like a tidal wave and suddenly you were experiencing memories you had thought you had forgotten.

You hadn’t been back in so long and now, being back, it was overwhelming. The only new thing was the bakery that had once been your parents was now taken over by a new owner. It had been renamed and completely remodelled. It now bore light pastel blue walls and a bright red door that only seemed to draw you in. Curiously, you made your way towards the new bakery. Your mother hadn’t mentioned any of this to you and you were curious as to why.

As soon as you opened the door the smell of baked bread and frosted cupcakes hit you. The interior was the same as when your parents had owned it. The same beige chairs and wooden tables. The same cream walls that had beautiful flowers painted onto them. The outside had changed but not the inside. You spied the spectacular crafted pastries. The tarts that looked unreal and the cakes that were frosted perfectly. There were name cards indicating what was in each item and you saw how they were handwritten, a chicken like scrawl but still legible - you recognised that from somewhere. A deep voice cut through your thoughts.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

Your eyes darted up to meet with a familiar face.

James Potter.

You’d recognise him anywhere but he looked so different. Was this the same James Potter that would squeak and run to hide whenever he saw you approaching? James’ cheeks went bright red once he registered it was you. Yep, it definitely was.

You bit back a smile at the reaction. James was the boy next door and he never failed to make your day brighter when you were younger. The two of you knew each other but you weren’t ever close as friends. You’d always wanted to get to know him but he’d run away or find an excuse to not talk to you. Your friends had always said it was because of the raging crush he had on you - which was true.

“Hi James.” You waved your hand and gave him a beaming smile. “Finally decided to visit and decided to pop in, you’ve got a nice place here.” You never remembered James being into baking and yet here he was. “When’d you get into baking?”

“Um, a while ago, I can’t exactly remember. After your mum sold the bakery it was just an empty shop until I bought it. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “It’s just something small I run, nothing like you of course.”

You were pretty sure everyone in town knew about how you had upped and left to the big city to pursue your dreams. They obviously knew that you had made it since your mum was one for gossip. There were a lot of things different in the city than in the town you grew up in and honestly the first few months you cried yourself to sleep but now you were happy - not really though. You thought you would have at least opened your own bakery by now but you’re still working in a tacky restaurant. Your dreams had halted.

James cleared his throat and gestured to the array of treats that were laid out. “So what would you like?”

Carefully, you eyed each one. They all looked so delicious. It was so hard to pick. You read each label with care and saw how much detail was provided. You could tell how much love was poured into it and for some odd reason it made your heart swell. You’ve always been indecisive so choosing something to have was hard.

“Just give me your favourite, whatever you like I’m sure I will.” You smiled at him and rummaged through your bag to take out your card. You didn't notice the way James’ cheeks lit up fire truck red again and how he was staring at you like you were the light of his life.

James caught himself staring and quickly muttered okay and made sure to grab his favourite strawberries and cream tart for you. He charged your card and packaged your order. He could feel your eyes as they watched his every movement and he couldn't help but burn bright pink. He’d had a crush on you since the first moment he had laid eyes on you and right now, seeing you after so many years, it made his heart speed up with joy. He’d never tell you but he had started baking because of you. He missed you so much when you had gone away.

You took your order gratefully, thank James one last time before heading out and back home. You peeked into the box to see a beautifully baked tart and it made your mouth water. The smell wafted to your nose and the sweetness comforted you. When you had tasted it it was even better. The flavours exploded in your mouth and you savoured the sugary taste that was left on your tongue. Everything about it made you happy. There was some unknown love that had been dedicated towards this and it made your stomach and taste buds so ecstatic. This was definitely more delicious than anything you had tasted before.

You were definitely going back.

#james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x you #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #marauders imagine #marauders fluff #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #fluff #marauders

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natalievoncatte · 1 year

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It was just a night, much like any other, when everything changed. Kara was tired- between the apartment fire and her work that day at CatCo and mopping up another alien crime ring, she’s barely slept in four days and had been skipping meals. It was a rare thing indeed when Lena was pestering Kara to eat lunch.

As soon as she reached the house, she glanced up and tilted her glasses down. Lena was in the kitchen, hard at work. A quick scan of the countertop revealed the mess she’d made putting together her homemade gyoza. As with everything in her life, when Lena decided to learn to cook, that she might pamper her girlfriend and her superhuman appetite, Lena went into it fully, taking culinary classes and equipping the remodeled kitchen of their suburban homestead with every conceivable gadget. Lena’s first change to the house was a bump-out that turned the already expansive “chef’s kitchen” into a near-commercial level culinary laboratory, and she threw herself into making dumplings with the same gusto with which she had set about solving the energy crisis, as if the freshly made potstickers awaiting the oil heating in the gas-powered commercial wok were as vital to humanity’s future as the fusion plant she was building in the desert.

Kara stopped in the entryway to the kitchen and drank Lena in, enjoying the fleeting moment before she was noticed. Hands covered in flour the elbow, Lena hunched over her cookbook, expression furrowed in deep concentration. She’s dressed down in a baggy flannel and patterned leggings that hugged the inviting curve of her hips that cried out for Kara’s hands, and wore her hair in a simple, loose ponytail. Everything about her was soft and cozy and home, and Kara would trade a king’s feast for one taste of those soft lips.

The whole scene played out in her mind. She’s sidle up behind Lena, who’d crack a joke about Kara being dressed as the CEO, and pretend she hadn’t noticed Kara’s return. Kara would let down her hair and bury her fingers in it, then her nose to devour Lena’s scent. As soon as Kara’s lips found the curve of Lena’s jaw, dinner would be indefinitely postponed and Kara would sate her hunger in other and better ways.

Then, she heard it. Beneath Lena’s heartbeat, strong and steady and safe, was another. A tiny, racing thing, like a baby bird. Kara stood there dumbfounded for too long a beat before she understood and let out a soft cry.

Lena looked up.

“Darling? What’s wrong?”

Kara fought to keep her voice from choking but failed. “I love you.”

“Did something happen?” Lena said, turning from the counter. “Kara, what is it?”

“I love you. I’m not angry and we’re okay. I just need Alex. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Lena nodded. “Okay.”

Kara was out the door and in her suit and flying just fast enough not to endanger Lena. They’d been trying for months for this; dozens of visits to the Fortress, tests, experiments. She knew that, eventually, it would work.

It was hitting her now. Kara landed a little too hard on Alex’s back porch and knocked on the glass.

Alex was there in an instant. “Kara? What’s wrong? Is everything…”

“Lena’s pregnant.”

Alex’s face went briefly blank. “Oh.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Kara stepped into the house, sat down. As she took a seat, sweeping her cape to the side, Alex poured them both glasses of seltzer water and joined her. They sat quietly for a long time.

They were both quiet for a few minutes before Alex said, “How did you find out?”

“I heard it. I don’t know if she knows.”

“Kara,” said Alex, “did you run?”

Kara looked up sharply, eyes stinging with tears. “What have I done?”

“I don’t understand.”

“We made a baby, Alex. A little person, a living being we’re bringing into the world. What have I done?”

“Kara?” Said Alex, resting her hand on Kara’s. “Slow down, okay? Breathe. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Lena and I talked about this,” said Kara. “This life we have, being together, all the risks. We agreed to it. This little baby didn’t. She’s going to see her mom getting her head punched in on TV. What if I get sent to the Phantom Zone again? What if I die?”

“You won’t-“

“I already have,” Kara snapped, surging to her feet. “How many times, Alex? How many? What if there’s no magic grass to bring me back next time? What if I leave them alone?”

Alex stared at her, face an unreadable mask, heart racing.

Kara turned, frantic, and paced Alex’s kitchen, her eyes drawn inexorably to Esme’s drawings on the fridge, to the pictures of Alex and Kelly on the living room wall.

“So don’t,” said Alex.

“How?”

“Maybe it’s time for Supergirl to hang it up.”

Kara froze, and this time it was her own heart she heard hammering in her chest, batting against its cage of ribs as if it might break free. Her eyes found the mirror above the living room sofa and she saw herself now in the colors and crest of her house.

Her house.

“What do you mean?”

Alex stood up. “You have died three times,” she said. Clinically dead. I was there. Maybe it is time for it to stop.”

“I can’t do that to them again,” Kara agreed.

“No, but I’m not saying this for them, Kara. I’m saying it for you. You paid. Whatever debt you think you owe, you’ve paid it.”

Kara covered her mouth in her hand, biting back a sob as the tears came.

“Why should I have this, huh? Tell me why I should have it? Just because they all died and I didn’t?”

Alex stood there, stuck silent. Kara knew the hug was coming before it arrived, and melted into it. Alex gripped her firm and strong.

“I have so much to lose now,” Kara sobbed.

“No, Kara. You have so much to live for now.”

Kara’s eyes flicked open. She stared last Alex, ignoring the sting of free flowing tears. The thought of all that had come before. The sight of Krypton, crumbling in a green flash as if devoured by some great primordial dragon. Reign and Red Daughter, the darkness that has gripped her between death and Sol’s loving warmth, gifted by the soul of this Earth herself.

They were not grave markers but way stones, not portents of doom but a map. A map that led only one place.

“I have to go. Lena.”

“It’s okay,” said Alex. “Go home to your girl, Kara. Call me when you’re up for it, and maybe you can talk to Kelly, too.”

“I’d like that.”

A few minutes later, Kara came to a gentle landing on the upstairs balcony and entered through their bedroom. She could smell dinner, and a quick glance told her that Lena had finished cooking and was waiting for her downstairs with a glass of juice- not wine. Lena turned it in her fingers, her face a mask of worry. Beside her sat the potstickers in a big bowl, kept warm by a damp towel. Another look revealed a pregnancy test hidden in Lena’s shirt pocket.

Kara reached up to slip on her glasses and dissolve the suit, the stopped.

Instead, she took it off, slipping out of the suit before changing into a threadbare sweater and some joggers. Later, she would fold it, put it in a box, put it away.

Right now she slipped into the kitchen, padding silently behind Lena on bare feet, savoring the quick flutter of Lena’s heart when Kara embraced her from behind. Kara made sure to press a kiss to her cheek before deftly sliding the test from Lena’s pocket.

“You used your super senses, didn’t you?” said Lena. “That’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair?” said Kara. “Being the most beautiful woman in the world, and in my house no less. The audacity.”

Lena gave her a crooked smile. “Technically, this is my house.”

Kara placed a hand on Lena’s belly and spread her fingers in an wide, protective grip.

“Our house,” she whispered.

The potstickers, unfortunately, went cold.

Seeing their partner make them a meal.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #waff #angst and waff #angst and fluff

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geneticdriftwood · 1 month

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lost and found pt. 1: missing pieces (dickroy wip snippet)

Summary:

"In the photo, Roy’s head hangs backwards over the arm of their old couch. His face is covered in doodles that Dick had helped a tiny Lian draw, all in multicolored permanent marker. He’s trying to look dramatically outraged, but the effect is ruined by the bright grin he can’t quite suppress. His gaze is directed off camera, to where Lian is giggling delightedly in Dick’s lap, a bright streak of blue smudged across her right cheek. The look in his eyes is full of such intense love and devotion that Dick forgets, for a moment, how to breathe."

Or: Dick thinks about the past and fails to change the future.

A/N: this is a little snippet from pt. 1 of lost and found, my wip au where Lian and Damian become friends while she's running around gotham still "dead". they get themselves stranded half a galaxy away, and in the process of rescuing them, dick and roy finally work through their issues and figure their shit out. takes place shortly after bruce returns from the time stream, pre-nu52 canon but with lian's current death plotline

---------------

The last kid from his gymnastics class has finally been picked up, so Dick heads to the staff locker room to rinse off before going home.

Honestly, Dick hates this locker room. It’s nothing like the tiny one at his old gym in New York, with its cracked mirror, and its shower with shit water pressure, and its photos and stickers and children's artwork on every locker. This one is too big, all shiny and new and impersonal, remodeled, like the rest of the gym, with money from a generous anonymous donation. Because Bruce can’t resist shoving himself into every fucking corner of Dick’s life.

That’s probably enough bitching about Bruce for now. He doesn’t want to hit his daily quota before he even finds out what happened last night with Damian.

Dick finishes his shower and towels off, changing into a clean pair of sweatpants and an old Wonder Woman t-shirt. Gym bag over his shoulder, he waves goodbye to his coworkers and steps out into the soft light of early evening. He throws a helmet on, hops on his bike, and pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of his apartment.

The fog of stress and exhaustion has finally cleared from his head, and he’s feeling more like himself than he has all day, but something in his chest still aches.

His last group of the day had been the tumbling class for 5-6 year olds. It's one of his favorites to teach–– it’s mostly just playing games, and he loves seeing how carefree and comfortable in their own skin the kids that age still are. But there’s moments when he looks at them and chokes on the air in his lungs, unable to swallow the grief.

Sophie had landed her first cartwheel today, and all he could see was Lian, running into the tower kitchen to proudly show him that look, she finally got the feet right! And he and Donna had applauded, and let her lick the cookie dough off the spoon, and listened as she’d sat at the kitchen island, kicking her feet and telling them all about some new animal fact she’d learned.

He thinks about calling Roy and sharing the memory. But he doesn't know if he should, hasn't talked to him recently enough to know whether the thought of past joy would be a comfort, or just a painful reminder of loss.

It aches down to his bones, that he doesn’t know. The distance between him and Roy feels so wrong, like he’s missing a limb.

Dick pulls in and parks in front of his favorite little corner grocery store. Dick wants to say he doesn’t know how all this started, but, well, he definitely does. He just doesn't particularly want to think about it.

This is his own damn fault, he knows. Roy’s been trying to reach out, lately. They see each other semi-regularly, at Justice League meetings or during the occasional mission. Out of costume sometimes, too, at someone’s birthday dinner or a West family cookout. But Dick’s had a lot of practice dodging conversations he doesn’t want to have. And normally Roy doesn’t let him get away with that, but they both know better than to start this fight in public.

So Dick avoids being alone with Roy, and Roy stares at him from across the room, eyes burning holes in the side of Dick’s head. Between the two of them, silences have always been so much louder than screaming matches.

Dick glances down. He’s a little surprised to notice that he has his phone out and opened to Roy’s contact, where a much younger face looks up at him. Donna had taken the picture, one afternoon when it had just been the three of them and Lian in the tower.

In the photo, Roy’s head hangs backwards over the arm of their old couch. His face is covered in doodles that Dick had helped a tiny Lian draw, all in multicolored permanent marker. He’s trying to look dramatically outraged, but the effect is ruined by the bright grin he can’t quite suppress. His gaze is directed off camera, to where Lian is giggling delightedly in Dick’s lap, a bright streak of blue smudged across her right cheek. The look in his eyes is full of such intense love and devotion that Dick forgets, for a moment, how to breathe.

It’s not like Dick wants things to stay like this. He misses his friend so much it burns inside. But he doesn’t know how to fix this. He’s afraid to try. Dick feels stuck, frozen. Why the hell is this so hard?

His thumb hovers over the call button on the screen. He really, really wants to hear Roy’s voice.

Suddenly his phone vibrates, and a text from Tim pops up at the top of the screen.

dropping itty bitty bat off at ur place, eta 20min. if u arent home to stop me i WILL be stealing all ur zesti.

The tension of the moment breaks, and Dick is back to being just a guy in a parking lot. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and pauses for a moment before pocketing his phone and turning to head into the store. He’s got a kid he needs to make dinner for, and he should probably restock on Zesti.

As he pushes the door open and is hit with cool air and the sounds of shoppers, a little voice in his head whispers “coward”. It sounds uncomfortably like Roy’s.

#this is the first piece of fic i've actually posted since i was like 12 #so please lmk what you think!#dick grayson #roy harper #lian harper #shes not actually present in this bit but the impact of her death features strongly here #dickroy #my fic #lost and found au #wips #dc #mine: dc #roydick

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snelbz · 1 year

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Better Or Worse {Chapter Three}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Chapter Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of sexual acts and is NSFW. 18+ ONLY.

Cassian -

Knowing that my loving wife is at Az and Elain’s, I make my way home after the gym. I’ve spent the last two nights with Feyre and Rhysand with no contact with Nesta. I should feel guilty for just walking out, but I don’t. If anything, I’m still pissed.

The worst part is that she hasn’t even tried reaching out. I know I was the one to leave, but she hasn’t called, hasn’t sent a text, hasn’t scoped me out. It’s almost like unwelcome validation, further proving my point and fears.

Once I’m home, I unlock the kitchen door and make my way in from the garage. The house is quiet and perfectly clean as if no one had been living there in my absence. If I were to guess, Nesta had been spending long hours at her office in the city. She hasn’t had anyone bitching at her to come home on time and I’m sure she’s been taking advantage of that.

The bed is perfectly made and a basket of clean laundry sits on top of the blankets, none of it mine. Greg, our cat, is sprawled out on my pillow, sound asleep.

I raid my closet, pulling together a new heap of clean clothes that I toss in a bag. It doesn’t feel right, but I ignore that feeling. I have to ultimately do what’s best for me and my happiness, even if joy is the last thing I’m feeling right now.

After getting my shit together, I take a look at the time and start stripping down, tossing my sweaty workout clothes in the hamper. I wonder if she’ll toss them in with the next load of laundry or just let them rot as I walk into the master bathroom and start the shower.

I missed my walk-in shower. It was my only request when remodeling our bathroom a few years back. I’m bigger than the average man and our previous shower never let me forget it. In this shower, I was never cramped and it relaxes the hell out of me.

I stepped beneath the hot water and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, then another.

It wasn’t that long ago that Nesta’s eyes shone when she first saw the shower. She hadn’t fought me hard on its design, only bemoaning the cost once or twice, before realizing just how worthwhile it was. It was big enough for not only myself, but room for someone to join me as well, something she’d taken advantage of often.

If I had a particularly early morning, Nesta would almost always get up with me. While I’d get in the shower, she would go downstairs and start the coffee pot, refill Greg’s food bowl, and check her email, reading over them, but never replying. Sometimes, it took two minutes, sometimes, it took ten, but without fail, before my shower was over, I’d feel her arms wrap around my waist and she’d join me.

It wasn’t always sexual. Sometimes, her emails frustrated her and she needed to vent. Listening and rinsing her hair was something I became good at. Even when I wasn’t inside of her, being with her in such an intimate setting, nothing but our souls, naked bodies, and the water running around us, there was nothing to distract and take away from each other.

But then she started to take longer and longer in the mornings. An email needed an immediate reply or she had to read through some quick edits. Those excuses made sense, they were related to her work, the only thing she loved as much as she loved me. I understood.

Then coffee pot wasn’t working, until I got downstairs and then it worked perfectly. She had been watching a news story and got distracted, but could tell me nothing about it. She had a migraine, four days in a row, that only affected her when I touched her.

By the time she stopped joining me in the shower, I’d stopped hoping she would.

I’m not sure when it all started changing. When I stood with Nesta on our wedding day and said our vows, I never expected to end up here. She was the love of my life, and still is, I think, but it’s…different. Every time I look at her now I feel a sense of sadness, pure loss, like looking at an old memory of when I used to feel alive and invincible, but realizing that it ended in heartbreak.

We had a hell of a love story, though, while it lasted. We’re too much alike in all the right ways, which resulted in sexual tension that almost always ended in mind blowing fucking.

It wasn’t just the sex. Nesta understood me, and I understood her. We had a bond that I had always thought was too good to be true, and maybe it was.

I miss her.

I miss the woman that I had fallen in love with, and even though we were married young, I had no doubt of my love for her, and hers for me.

I miss joking around with her, hearing her laugh because I said something stupid and profane.

I miss just talking with her about nothing and everything, comforting her, having her comfort me. I miss waking up in the morning to her watching me, still gloriously nude from the night before, with messy hair and a soft smile. I miss the little things that I took for granted, like holding her hand or laying with her on the couch while we watched a stupid movie.

I miss the sex. Not just because the lack of it has me horny and aggressive, but I miss the connection. I miss getting lost in her body that was completely in my possession. Sometimes I still let my eyes linger on her body, and I’m not sure if she doesn’t notice or just pretends not to, but I can’t deny that my wife is gorgeous. A beautiful face, of course, but her body…

Strong and curvaceous, her skin so light that even my fingerprints left soft pink tracks behind them. Her ass was one of my favorite places to grab, to smack, to hold onto while she rocked her hips, while she bounced on my cock, but nothing compares to her breasts. I still catch myself looking at them, catching her peaked nipples through those little tanktops she wears around the house. No bra, never at home, not since we started dating, and I sure as hell never complained. Even now, when she hates me for some unknown reason, it’s still no bra, and my eyes can’t help but drift to how they bounce with every step she takes.

Thinking of those showers we used to take together, of the feel of her skin, of tight tank tops with no bras, sent my imagination into overdrive and suddenly, in my mind, I’m not alone under the spray anymore.

I’m remembering one of the last times we had sex, when I’d come home and found her in the shower. Deciding that surprising her was a good idea considering how tense she’d been, I undressed and slipped into the bathroom without making a sound. I’d startled her and she yelled at me for a solid ninety seconds before I had her back pressed against the cool tile and was balls deep inside her.

The decision to take my cock into my hand wasn’t one I made on my own, but as I remember how good she’d felt, how tight and wet, her nails digging into my shoulders, I’m powerless to stop myself.

The sounds she made, the sounds she always made, the gasps and moans and yelling of my name strung with curses. I swear in the quiet as I pump myself, faster and faster, as I lean my forehead against the cool tile. The image of her head leaned back in ecstasy is all I see behind my closed eyes, the way her brows furrowed as that sensation in her core kept building.

Fuck.

I’d kill to make her react like that again, to make her feel good, to give her exactly what she wants, just the way she likes it. I know her. I know what she likes. I know what makes her scream, what makes her knees shake.

I can’t help but groan as I near my release. It’s embarrassing how quickly it’s approaching. It’s been too damn long since I’ve orgasmed, too damn long since I’ve been touched. So long that I’ve settled for myself, but I’m feeling too good to care.

I imagine it’s Nesta’s lips wrapped around my cock, her tongue exploring as I fuck her mouth with no hesitation. She shows no resistance, she never has. She loves it, loves the taste, loves the tease, loves sucking me dry.

At least she used to.

I ignore the fact that she won’t be down on her knees before me again and relive the memory of it. I groan and my hand finds the wall beside my head, grounding me as I jack off to the lust of something that no longer exists.

I breathe her name, or maybe I yell it, I don’t know.

All I know is that all I can think about is her name, her body, her eyes on mine, the love and desperation in them as we fucked. It’s been months since this day, months since this memory, and I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of anguish and guilt as my release comes.

Nesta -

It’s hard to enjoy time with my sisters when my heart isn’t in it.

I feel guilty. I haven’t seen either of them in forever, save for when Feyre has come to pick up Nyx on the days that we watch him, and now that we’re all finally together, I can’t keep my mind in the conversation.

I tell myself to focus, but I can’t. It’s been days since I’ve seen my husband, days since I’ve talked to him. I know he’s staying with Feyre, but I can’t convince myself to ask her about him. Even though I want to.

I want to know if he’s as miserable as I am.

I pop a strawberry in my mouth before taking a sip of my wine. “Oh, that reminds me,” I begin, even though I’m pretty sure they had moved the conversation along a few minutes ago, when I started to tune out, “I ordered two swings so I can keep one at my place. Because, you know, I’m going to steal this baby as much as possible.”

Elain chuckled, rubbing her growing bump lovingly. “I’m sure she’ll love spending time at her Aunt Nesta’s…and I’m sure me and daddy won’t mind having an afternoon or two to nap.”

“Why do I feel like you call him daddy way too often?” Feyre asks, and Elain nudges her with a scowl, which makes me chuckle.

My sisters fall back into a comfortable, lighthearted conversation, but I don’t hear much of it. My mind is elsewhere. I wonder what Cassian is doing, what he’s been up to, what he’s been thinking, what he’s been saying about me. I doubt any of it has been good. I’m sure he’s been cursing my name and wishing I was nothing more than a woman of his past.

“Nesta?”

I blink, unaware of how long I’ve been staring at my wine glass. I look up at Elain and clear my throat. “Hmm?”

Her eyes were soft, full of worry. “You can talk to us, you know.”

I look to Feyre to try and gauge where her thoughts are at. After all, she’s the one that’s been talking to my husband. Yet, her eyes are just as full of worry, which I hate.

“I’m fine,” I say, and they know it’s a lie the second it slips off my tongue. The room drops into silence, and I close my eyes. “Has he…said anything?”

My sisters remain silent until I open my eyes, but then Feyre says, “He misses you.”

“He has an odd way of showing it.” The hostility in my tone isn’t directed at her, but I can’t help it.

“He’s sad.” Feyre shrugs. “He hasn’t said much in detail, and I haven’t pried, but I can tell that he’s sad.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing. I sip from my wine. I didn’t think that it was possible to feel any more guilty, but now I’m drowning in it. It doesn’t help that my sisters stay completely silent, letting me dwell in my misery.

“Has he…mentioned when he’s coming home?” I ask, ashamed of how small my voice sounds.

It’s quiet for another moment longer and when I drag my gaze from my glass, I regret it. They’re both looking at me with pity.

I hate it. I hate feeling weak, but the sadness in their eyes isn’t just for me. Cassian has been a staple in their lives as long as he’s been in mine. He’s family to them both, but he and Feyre have always been close, almost stepping into the role of the older brother for her that none of us ever had.

I wasn’t surprised when she was the one who took the lead on this particular conversation.

Clearing her throat, she adjusted her seat on the couch, wrapping her arms around a throw pillow. I couldn’t get the image out of my head that she was putting a shield between us. That made me all the more worried for whatever she was going to say.

“I don’t know that he plans to,” Feyre finally admitted.

I waited for her to go on, not wanting to push, but her silence, and Elain’s, continued. “But that doesn’t— Why wouldn’t he?”

“He asked for a divorce, Nes,” she said, voice gratingly gentle, as if she were speaking to Nyx or one of her students. “That’s a pretty big indication that something is wrong.”

“I don’t need you telling me that something’s wrong.” Neither of them flinch at my sudden fury. They continue to watch me, carefully. I take a deep breath. “He’ll come back. He’s just pissed off and needs to cool down.”

Even as I say the words, I taste the lie.

“He’s given up, Nesta. He’s unhappy,” Feyre said, not unkindly. “And so are you.”

Such simple words, a secret that we tried to hide for so long, but here it is laid out bare: the truth.

“I know,” I say, quietly, because my anger has faded and now I’m at a loss for words.

“What about you?” Elain asked, and at my confused expression, she says, “Have you given up?”

If I were to tell the truth, I would say that I had given up a long time ago, I just didn’t realize it. Instead, I shrug.

“Have you two ever talked about marriage counseling?” Elain asks, adjusting herself on the couch with a cringe. Deep into her last trimester, I can tell that she’s constantly uncomfortable. An annoyance, but a luxury.

I shake my head. “I can’t remember the last time we had a meaningful conversation, much less a conversation that’s involved any sort of reconciliation.”

The confession flows out of me and my sister's frown deepens. “Well, remember Az and I did couples therapy when we were engaged. It helped so much.”

Azriel used to have a difficult time opening up, talking about his past, and it had created separation between the two of them in the beginning. I remember them doing couples therapy for a few months and only being happier and closer together because of it.

“I don’t really see Cass as…the therapy type,” I say, staring at a loose thread on the blanket thrown across my lap.

“Az was opposed to it at first,” Elain says, “but as soon as our first session wrapped, he already wanted to continue with it. Maybe suggest it. If you want to find your way back to him…” She shrugs and her eyes line with tears. I know it’s her hormones, but I still feel guilty for making Elain cry. She quickly shakes her head. “Don’t mind me. You know I’m an emotional mess.”

Feyre chuckles but I lean over and squeeze Elain’s hand. “I know. Don’t worry. I’ve cried so much the last few days that I don’t think it’s possible for me to cry anymore. Greg has gone into hiding, surely scared shitless that every time he sees me I’m going to be bawling.”

I try to make it a joke, but it’s just pathetic.

“We know you love him,” Feyre says, sipping from her glass. “And he loves you. He really does. He’s just…tired. You know?”

Yeah. I know.

“Do you want to save your marriage?” Feyre asks.

I don’t have the energy for anger anymore. “Of course I do. But I feel like…” Apparently I lied. I do still have tears left to cry, and they come now, appearing so quickly that I can’t even try to stop them. “I feel like so much damage has been done. We’ve drifted too far apart and I have no fucking clue how we’re going to find our way back to one another. I don’t think love is enough anymore. And I feel like I’ve made one too many mistakes.”

“No such thing,” Elain said, dabbing at her eyes. “There’s no such thing as too many mistakes. I’m telling you, marriage counseling works wonders. If you want, I can give you the information of the woman we saw. Suggest it to Cass. See what he thinks.”

My eyes drift back down to that loose thread, although my vision is now blurry. I’m scared of suggesting such a thing and having him laugh in my face.

“What if he doesn’t want to?” I ask, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve. “What if he’s just done? For good?”

This time both of my sisters spoke at once. Elain, trying to comfort as she always did, and Feyre, unafraid to speak the truth, no matter how much it hurt, their words jumbled as they spoke over each other. They gave each other an apologetic smile before turning back to me.

“He won’t be,” Elain promised, taking my hand. “He loves you and he misses you. I’m sure he’d be willing to do anything to get back to how you were.”

“But…” Feyre took my other hand, squeezing once. “If he doesn’t, if this is the beginning of a different chapter of your life, we’re here. You aren’t alone.”

The smile I gave them didn’t reach my eyes, nor do I think it fooled them. I’d been alone for months, but no one said anything, no one noticed.

What would make this any different?

After another hour of talking, clearing my head, and making sure I was good to drive, I headed home. I was avoiding it now, far more intentionally than I had before Cassian left.

Before, I hadn’t been there because I was busy. I came home late, but I always knew the porch light would be on, that my husband was waiting inside, despite our distance.

Now, when I come home, it’s empty. It’s dark and every sound, day or night, makes me jump.

I hate being alone.

But as I approach the house, I see the porch light is on and my breath catches in my throat. When I raise the garage door, it isn’t empty, as I’d expected.

There’s a familiar black truck parked in the spot opposite mine.

He…came home.

For a moment I just sit in my car, surprised and uncertain, not because I’m not happy he’s here, but because I wasn’t prepared.

After a deep breath, trying to calm my newfound nerves, I open the door and head inside. It’s ridiculous, being nervous to see my own husband, but we haven’t spoken in days and our last conversation left too much unsaid. I don’t know if I should be expecting a gentle reunion or preparing for a fight.

“Cassian?”

The house is quiet. Greg is nearly asleep on the kitchen table, looking like he’d just gotten there and isn’t quite comfortable yet.

Cassian's keys and wallet are sitting next to his phone on the island. It’s not where he usually puts them when he comes home. I’m finding it much stranger than I probably should.

When he doesn’t respond to me, I start making my way through the house, calling his name once more. I take to the stairs and hear the shower running as I approach our bedroom.

It must be a good sign, right? That he’s making himself at home?

It looks like he came here right after the gym. His shoes are discarded on the floor, his sweaty clothes sitting on top of mine in the hamper. I drop my purse on the bed and slip out of my boots. I’m just about to sit, to wait for him, to take a few minutes to think about what I’m going to say, but then I hear my husband moan and my entire body locks up.

It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve heard him moan.

He’s having sex in there.

He may be pissed, but to bring some slut into our house—

My entire body is shaking and I feel like I’m going to vomit. I feel a panic attack coming on, feel my face burning in embarrassment. We’ve had our issues, but I never imagined Cassian to be the cheating one, never imagined he could be unfaithful.

And then to rub it in my face like this?

Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m storming towards the bathroom and throwing open the door.

A room filled with steam greets me, and before I can start screaming and cursing his name, I freeze.

Cassian’s alone. His back is to me, one palm opened flat against the tile wall, his head thrown back as his body starts to tense. The glass is fogged up, but I can still see enough of the body that I used to explore and pleasure. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him naked, since I’ve let him touch me in any sort of way, since I’ve touched him.

Which seems to be why he’s touching himself now.

He hasn’t heard me come in, and I should walk out, but my feet are stuck just across the threshold, my hand clinging to the doorknob.

He works himself quickly as he moans again, and curses low.

He says my name as he comes.

I must have gasped, must have made some noise as the shock of hearing him groan my name in ecstasy flooded my body, because he turned on his heel, staring at me through the fogged glass. His hand was still around his cock, his chest heaving with each breath that rasped from his lungs.

If I hadn’t been expecting him to say my name, I surely hadn’t been expecting the ire in his eyes when his gaze landed on me. Any heat at what I’d walked in on dissipated as he looked at me.

He may have been thinking of me, but clearly he didn’t want to see me.

My chest felt cold and hollow and empty.

Without a word, I left the bathroom, closing the door behind me, and walked into the bedroom.

#nessian #better or worse #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #acotar #acomaf #acowar #cassian #acofas #acosf #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #snacmc collab

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leggerefiore · 1 year

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Invasion II

cw: yandere, alien au, death mentions, poly (ingo/reader, emmet/reader)

summary: Everything you both strive to do comes patiently unwound with horrifying realisations.

Part I

this au has more potential, I think.

Everything had become eerily quiet since the base had been invaded.

It only made sense, after all. There were only three living organisms that remained. You could only ponder the question of where your crews' remains went for so long before deciding to leave the topic behind. It was pointless. Most things were here. Attempts to make contact with other ships would only end badly. A single mistake you made while desperately trying to free yourself from the parasitic lifeforms had proven that.

You were stuck here with them.

They had made many attempts to better their relationship with you. Often times, the one who called himself Ingo took to trying to prove himself something like a domestic husband. Meals were made for you, and he attempted normal conversation with you desperately. His behaviour was the better of the twins. The other, Emmet, was much more aggressive. Something about his idea of love was primal and domineering, in opposition to his counterpart. Conversation was rare in comparison to clinging to you as if something would happen to you should he let you go. Nothing would happen.

Most of your time was spent locked away in your previous quarters as they wandered the base doing “remodels” that you pretended not to see. Better gardens for long-term living, shifting more and more of the general areas into more homely looking spaces… Additions of a nursery. You chose to pretend they simply needed to bide their time doing something, since you had taken to avoiding them however you could. Escape was unlikely, but you refused to give in.

Sneaking into what used to be the canteen, which had become more of a domestic kitchen due to their intervention, you observed food supplies. Most perishables had since gone, leaving only preserved food to remain. None of it was quick and easy to make, yet you refused to eat anything of which they prepared for you. A dried power dish of something that was supposed to be a beef stew would have to do. As you opened the door of the storage, however, a tentacle suddenly grasped your wrist. It failed to squeeze or harshly move you, telling you exactly which of them had caught you.

“... I put your food in the refrigerator, dearest,” Ingo's voice was always a bit loud, yet terrifyingly gentle, “Did you not like it?” His hand came to rest on your shoulder. He appeared nearly human, if you ignored the tentacles that protruded from his back and the glowing gem embedded in his chest. You remained steadfast in your silence while refusing to give further attention to him. Usually, he would give up after a few minutes. If given the choice, you preferred dealing with Ingo over Emmet. A sigh came from him after a few moments of waiting.

“I hate being aggressive with you, my dear,” you flinched as he turned you around to face him, “You need to eat properly. We are parts of your body, too now. I know that you are growing weaker.” You felt disgusted every time they reminded you of how they existed. On an expedition, you had picked up some of their stray, dying cells, and they have used your body to incubate and create more cells of their own. Apparently, they still remained inside you. Ingo's arms came around you as hiccups suddenly bubbled up from his mouth. “Are we failing to be proper mates? I provide food and comfort… Do I need to act as Emmet does?” he begged you for answers, “You give him more attention than me.”

“I don't want either of you,” you told him, “I want to leave. Let me go.” His grip only tightened. A chill ran down your spine as echoing steps rang out into the air. The other twin appeared in the doorway soon after, standing tall and menacingly. They were connected, you knew. Their communication was something seamless and impossible for you to comprehend.

“Darling, you can not!” he declared while approaching you and his brother, “We are bonded to you! It is thanks to you that we lived at all! Let us adore you.” His grin was ominous and filled with teeth as he gazed at you. “Brother and I love you verrrry much!” You wondered if it was possible to force them from wherever in your body they had taken up residence. It seemed to be something that you needed to put more consideration if you planned on ever truly escaping from here.

As if he read your thoughts, Emmet's face grew even darker. His glowing eyes seemed to zero in on you more than before. “We are inseparable,” his voice was something overly saccharine and cooing, “Your body is as much us as ours is as much yours.” A strange pain began to spread in your head as tears involuntarily began to form in your eyes. The pain was indescribable. It hurt somewhere that you could not even begin to understand. Ingo's hand quickly moved to massage your temple, easing the pain somewhat.

“Emmet,” the older twin's voice turned harsh, “I explicitly asked you not to cause them any harm.” Your pained hiccups reverberated off the empty room as the pain slowly faded away into nothingness. They were in your brain, you came to understand. They truly were impossible to remove if that was the case. Distantly, you were aware that Emmet's words implied they took your cells and made them their own. “My love, I am sorry my brother has treated you so callously,” Ingo's eyes held such gentle, tender emotion, “See, our species lacked your human concept of emotions, and it has only been since our joining that we have began to understand them ourselves.” You felt more tears bubble out from your eyes.

This only led to Ingo clinging to you more desperately. Emmet sighed. “I am sorry, darling,” he backed away slowly, clearly trying to gauge how Ingo was going to react, “I am still learning. I will learn more! I will make you verrrry happy! Ingo and I both will! Yep!” His grin shifted into something deceptively sweet and loving. Soon, he was gone from the canteen, leaving you alone once more with Ingo.

“... If you just learnt of emotions, then why do you think you love me?” you asked, wondering if maybe there was a way to convince them otherwise. Ingo's face twisted into a grin, much like the one his twin just wore.

“It is because of you that we have learnt all these things,” his voice was something like a croon, “Our hearts can only belong to you.” The glow of his gem grew momentarily brighter. It finally dawned on you that this was all your fault. You brought them on board and refused proper treatment from medbay, assuming it had just been a cold. The crew had died because of your foolishness and being stuck with the aliens was your punishment. You rested your head against his shoulder. His tentacles came out from his back to hug you tighter. Ingo was obviously desperate to comfort you in any way he could.

“... I guess that's fine,” you wanted to cry more, “W-what did you make?” One of his hands came to lift your chin up to meet his eyes, they swirled with something obsessive.

“I'll make something for you right now,” he easily replied, “I'll make your favourite.”

Your personal hell was to be a loving one.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #yandere x reader #yandere pokemon x reader #yandere ingo x reader #yandere emmet x reader #yandere #yanstuff

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anamoon63 · 26 days

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People You'd Like To Get To Know Better

Thank you so much @marcishaun for the tag! 💗🤗

Last song: These Dreams - Heart Favorite color: Purple forever. 💜 Currently watching: (Not currently but most recently) My Life with the Walter Boys. (Netflix) Sweet/savory/spicy: Sweet and salty, mostly. Relationship: Married for 25 years now. Current obsession: In real life: remodeling my kitchen. In The Sims: trying to take better pictures (and failing most of the time, especially in Sims 4). Last thing I googled: TS3 Horse Ranch. For one of my Sunset Valley families (the poor branch of the Landgraab family, yes there's one in my game).

ETA: The tags, cause I forgot, lol. I'm tagging: @berrycactus @beresimsdreamworld @miss-may-i @dandylion240 @matchalovertrait and everybody else who wants to do this. 😉

#tag #tag game #personal stuff #text post

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czenzo · 1 year

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Revenge

[ao3]

summary: Lucy tried to muffle her snort of glee and failed miserably. “Need a scarf?” The sequel to Consequences, in which Lucy enacts the revenge she so kindly promised.

words: 1514 rating: T

note: I hadn't initially planned to write this when Consequences was first posted, but I had a few people asking for the revenge sequel – so, here you are! enjoy ;)

Anthony Lockwood had a list of his favourite places to kiss Lucy Carlyle.

It stayed confined to the safety of his own brain – George would forever take the piss if he found a piece of paper full of cursive bullet points listing off Lockwood’s favourite makeout spots – which meant in times of great boredom, he could keep himself entertained by mentally recalling each entry on the list.

“So, Mr Lockwood…” his current client droned on, “we’ve been thinking of remodelling the master bedroom, see, but…”

It was remarkable how often clients insisted on recounting their whole life story before getting to the details of the haunting they’d called up about. From the comfort of his armchair, Lockwood could see both the middle-aged couple looking for help with a suspected Visitor, and Holly Munro neatly jotting down all of the key information. Judging by the wistful look on the man’s face, he had no intentions of getting to the actual ghost sighting for at least a few more minutes, which meant Lockwood had ample time for some memory exercise.

The basement, in the space between Joe and Esmerelda.

The office, sprawled across one of their desks.

The shadows of an alleyway, on their way to examine a haunted property.

“What do you think, Mr Lockwood?”

Lockwood blinked. Muscle memory kicked in, and his polite smile increased in brightness. “Come again?��

“Doubles versus kings,” the old man said. “The missus insists kings leave far too much mattress space between a couple, but I rather enjoy—”

“Mr Franks, if I could ask you to stick to the key details?” Holly interjected. “A death glow in the master bedroom, yes?”

“Yes, indeed… We’d like to remodel, but the workers refuse to do their job until it’s been looked into. We hadn’t noticed it ourselves, really, but we are getting on a bit, aren’t we, Janet…? But anyway, we were trying to decide on curtain colours when…”

Behind the buildings of the furnaces, faces still flushed from the heat of the flames.

“Mr Franks. Back to the death glow, please. Has the room temperature changed recently? Any unexplained feelings of dread?”

“Ooh, dreadful is just the word to describe our daughter-in-law’s idea of a good carpet colour…”

The back garden of 35 Portland Row, under the shade of the apple tree.

The door to the living-slash-client-meeting room cracked open, and when Lockwood saw the face that peered through, he resisted the urge to beam.

“Hi, sorry for interrupting,” Lucy said, lips awkwardly stretching into a polite smile. “I’d like to speak with Mr Lockwood for a moment. It’s— er, urgent.”

Lockwood hopped up from his chair with excessive eagerness. “Of course. My apologies, Mr and Mrs Franks. I will return as soon as – but in the meantime, our dear assistant Holly will take all the details.” With another smile and a subtle look of apology in poor Holly’s direction, Lockwood slipped out of the room and into the hallway.

He kept his voice to a whisper. “Everything alright, Luce?”

“Yeah. Just heard bits of the conversation while I helped George in the kitchen, and it sounded”—she took a breath—“God, Lockwood. It sounded awfully boring. Thought you’d appreciate a short break from it.”

“Lucy Carlyle,” he said, resisting the urge to grab her face and kiss her squarely on the lips (George had a full view of them from the kitchen). “You are the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“Bit extreme,” she replied with a wobbly smile, cheeks blotching red.

“Fucking rude,” George called out. “What about me?”

“Keep it down, George!” Lockwood hissed. “The client will hear you.”

“The client will hear the two of you getting all mushy and gushy if you’re not careful. Would blow your urgent talk cover right out of the water. Hey – this Swiss roll’s almost done, I’ll take some to Holly before she keels over. Want a slice?”

“Ooh—”

“Save some for us. Be back in a few,” Lucy said, before grabbing Lockwood by the arm and dragging him along with her up the stairs. She hurriedly lead him to 35 Portland Row’s highest standing room – the attic, adorned with posters and polaroids and various jumpers and skirts strewn around the floor. It was a room so undeniably Lucy’s that Lockwood almost forgot to breathe every time he entered.

He watched as she softly shut the door behind them. “Why the hurry?”

“They’ll get suspicious if we’re gone for too long.”

“And why are we so busy?” he asked, a smirk creeping onto his lips and betraying him completely.

Lucy caught sight of it and scoffed. “You know why.”

“Wait,” he said, stopping her before she could reach him. “Is the skull jar in here?”

“He’s down in the basement. I’m not keen on being observed, either.”

Before he could even think of a witty reply, she grasped the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to her lips. It was quite remarkable how all but his most basic brain functions ceased to work the second he began kissing Lucy Carlyle; it was also amusing that despite everything, he still could recall his all-time favourite spot on his mental list:

Lucy’s bed, tangled up in her patterned bedsheets.

It was history’s greatest misfortune that they were in a rush, and couldn’t afford to move to that spot.

Hands came to rest at the soft dip of her waist and Lockwood gently tugged, pulling her body flush against his while they took a simultaneous gasp of air. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, making him woozy and warm and completely drunk on his feelings, and oh, God, she was kissing him so fervently he thought his lips might bruise.

“Lucy.” He rested his forehead against hers, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Anthony,” she whispered, and he held back a groan.

“Don’t— Don’t do that to me, you know I have to get back to the client, I can’t stay—”

“I know,” Lucy said, breath hot against the shell of his ear. “One more minute.”

He huffed, knowing he could never turn her down when she sounded like that. “Alright. Alright, one more min—”

And Lucy’s mouth was on his neck, and then even Lockwood’s most basic brain functions shut down. Carefully, she backed him up against the closed door, nibbling and sucking at the tender flesh beside Lockwood’s Adam’s apple. One of his hands clutched at her waist with need, the other was firmly planted over his mouth, muffling the plethora of mortifying noises that threatened to escape.

The moment seemed to last for an eternity.

“There,” Lucy eventually said, backing away with a smile that was far too innocent for the situation. “All done. You can go, now.”

Lockwood blinked owlishly at her. It was as if a switch had been flipped – one second, she was just as needy and clingy as he had been, and the next…

“What?”

“I’m done,” she said, brushing off imaginary lint from her front. “I’d call that decent revenge.”

“Revenge—?”

“I did warn you, didn’t I?” One hand reached up to pat his cheek. “I’m a woman of my word.”

Realisation hit him like a double-decker bus.

“Oh,” he murmured, tentatively reaching for the tender spot on his neck. “Oh, no. Lucy, you didn’t.”

Lucy tried to muffle her snort of glee and failed miserably. “Need a scarf?”

“Oh, no, no, no—” He hurried over to her bathroom, knuckles white as he grasped the bowl of the sink and stared down his reflection. Right there – on almost the exact same stretch of skin as Lucy’s had been – sat the beginnings of a hickey. “No! Lucy! I can’t— how in God’s name am I going to cover that?”

“Plaster? Call it a rapier accident?” Lucy said through bouts of laughter. Lockwood couldn’t help but join her, though he was unsure whether his laughter stemmed from genuine amusement, or pure hysteria.

“No, no,” he said, once they finally calmed down, “what am I going to do? Genuinely?”

“Didn’t think that far ahead,” Lucy admitted. “I promised revenge, but, er… not a good cover-up.”

“They won’t buy the rapier thing again, I’m sure of it.”

“In all honesty, I don’t think they bought it in the first place, anyway. They know we’re a— a… a thing. That we’re, er—”

“A couple?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Yes,” Lockwood said slowly. “But I’d rather they weren’t privy to this. I am their boss, after all. That’d be unprofessional.”

“Holly talks about her girlfriend all the time.”

“I know.”

“And I’ve seen George almost nude more times than I’ve seen my own mother.”

“Yes, well, er— that’s George. And I would still prefer to avoid them seeing this monster of a thing on my neck.”

“Well…” Lucy detangled her hair and checked the colour of her cheeks before opening the door. “Good luck with that, then. Better be quick – don’t want all the Swiss roll to run out, eh?”

Then she left, and Anthony Lockwood stared at the door as it swung shut behind her.

“Shit.”

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co fic #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #locklyle #czenzo.fic

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baronfulmen · 8 months

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I'm buying my first refrigerator, in my mid-40s

In the year 2000 or before, my parents bought a new refrigerator. Then in December of 2007 they remodeled the kitchen, at the same time that I bought a house.*

Now that 23+ year old fridge is showing signs of the freezer failing and has some other issues and we're gonna buy a new one. And man, I have very little hope that it will last a quarter of that time because of fucking planned obsolescence.

*Yes, I bought a house in December of 2007. Sigh.

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 months

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Posted on one of my groups, asking for advice. It's too late- the only thing that will help this hack's work is a sledge hammer.

#construction fail #kitchen remodel mess #other stuff

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philbridges · 2 years

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Things To Avoid Installing A Kitchen Sink

Phil runs through a couple of tips on what NOT to do when you install/reinstall a sink. ⏱️⏱️Chapters⏱️⏱️00:00 Intro00:22 When you are measuring the sink to cut cabinet, want to go back 1″00:55 Don’t silicon the drain to fix leaks01:22 Follow us 🙏 Subscribe, 👍, it helps a lot!!➤❓/ 💬: [email protected]➤ Follow https://straightarrowrepair.com/pipf ➤➤I get a little for the channel-no…

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overworkedunderwhelmed · 2 years

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if you were to have a million quid, what would you spend it on?

Ah! The boring, grown up answer.

Conversion rate to USD would be: 1,151,200.00 United States Dollar

House Updates: Remodel our kitchen and two bathrooms. Recarpet Floors. Replace the Roof. Better Insulation. Update Windows and External Doors. Update Lighting and Electrical throughout. Repair/Replace Concrete. Siding Update. New Garage Door. Total Cost would be around 200,000-250,000 depending upon quality of materials and labor. However, nearly all of this would improve all energy savings and bills to the extent possible, saving a lot more money for us in the long run. We've already got solar panels, but with some of the local regs we can't put it across the whole rooftop, so it doesn't offset the whole electrical bill.

Car Updates to Hybrid/Electrical. Buying used where possible. Likely Cost between 40,000 to 80,000. We have one long distance, larger vehicle and one short distance vehicle that would be optimal for all electric.

Bulk up a savings account, splitting between a High Yield and I-Bonds (short term US savings bonds issues by the US Treasury). Probably would want like 20,000 more in here that we could dip into for vacations and then repay throughout the year.

IVF. It's expensive as hell, and not at all guaranteed to I've had multiple, failed trials of IUI. It's like 10,000 a pop to try and most companies offer no support within the insurance. Barring 2-3 failed attempts, adoption, which is like 40,000-50,000 to get a baby and that's not being picky at all about health or any other status. (We've tried for 8 years since kiddo was born.)

Max Retirement/HSA Investments to Cap. This is only like 5-6K more than we've already invested because I've been slowly bumping it up over the years.

Kiddo's 529 Educational Investment. Capped per year, so better to do to the limit each year (which means I'd probably buffer in savings for 2-3 years to max it out with growth.) 40,000. If we're ahead on investments it would be easier to turn around and help kiddo out of pocket once she gets there.

That leaves about 400,000-500,000 for investments and Real Estate. I wouldn't pay off the house entirely because there is some tax write off to consider, but I might do a lump sum to drop the value lower and easier to manage on one paycheck.

Pick an awesome vacation spot or two to go to with my husband and daughter each year. Put it in a High Yield Savings account until we're ready to reserve and pay bills, so it can rebound year after year.

We do charitable work normally, so I would still look at some places I would like to see supported, especially in a lump sum win case.

I'm pretty frugal with food, clothes, and other necessities and I wouldn't plan to stop working until the investments reach well past a million anyways, so who knows how long that would take.

But it might mean that I am more choosy about any job I would have. (Happy with the current one, but I've learned never to expect it to last long.)

#ask me anything #thanks for the ask #you probably got a way more serious answer

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the-best-url-on-this-site · 1 year

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I posted 13,762 times in 2022

That's 4,550 more posts than 2021!

574 posts created (4%)

13,188 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@assignedslutatbirth

@birdy-bird27

@pisshandkerchief

@posiemania

@smileytalkandquietvoiced

I tagged 2,169 of my posts in 2022

#prev - 49 posts

#posts from 2016 - 21 posts

#amy gets employed - 21 posts

#scream - 19 posts

#family members do not interact - 19 posts

#amy plays vv - 18 posts

#amy relives google plus - 17 posts

#blorbo from my redacted - 13 posts

#spn - 13 posts

#dracula daily - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#cas wasnt actively trying to kill dean throughout his childhood and cas didnt kill bobby or really anyone important to dean that inhave seen

My Top Posts in 2022:

109 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

1,125 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

Hey Twitter people! I'm gonna teach you a quick little thing about your new home Tumblr!!!!

2,294 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

My name is Hermes. I ain't a poet. I stole this poem just to show it. And my. My son died. I can save kids but i can't save mine (what!)

7,736 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Kitchen Nightmares is really just like

Owners: i don't know why my restaurant is failing. Chef Ramsey please help

Ramsey: hello i am Gordon Ramsay. How is the food

Owners: we have the best food

*food comes out*

Gordon: this is an alive rat

Owners: our customers love te alive rat. We have the best food. Every day they order the alive rat.

*dinner service*

Customer: oh my god this is an alive rat

Waitress: is everything okay?

Customer: no it's an alive rat

*food is sent back*

Owner: this has never happened before. Fuck you Gordon Ramsay you should just leave. People love the alive rat

*Gordon goes in the freezer*

Gordon: there are 25 molds unknown to science. The rats have set up a lab to study them. Blimey. Scientist rats. They've unionized.

*later*

Gordon: your food is bad

Owner: no!!!!!!!!

Gordon: yes

Owner: oh my god our food is bad

*remodel, menu change*

Owner: oh my god Gordon Ramsay you saved my life thank you so much

Gordon: promise never to serve alive rats again, yeah?

Owner: yes of course

*end of episode*

Gordon: ratatouille ammirite? *He walks away chuckling*

End card: the restaurant was shut down three months later because they went back to serving alive rats.

30,632 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #ayyyyy its a my mutuals #no surpises here except i didn't know hermes manuel miranda had 8000 notes!!!!!#long post #and NO just because 2 of my top five posts are mcr posts DOESN'T MEAN IM AN MCR BLOG

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incarnateirony · 1 year

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Actually, you know what? No reason to be cryptic about it. Enjoy the journey on Aaron's current life choices.

So I mean, I've not made it secretive that I'm, among many things, a pothead, mostly for pain management. And that I've had an interesting life, and have some surprising influences in rings that I always stood as the Most Unlikely Hobbit in.

But certain things I witnessed, I observed, I learned a great deal, even had the means to get involved with but just, didn't. I had enough chaos in my life, let's not add FBI drug raids to it, thanks.

But on February 6th, weed is legal here.

The first places that were approved on licensing for it were established medical dispensaries. They've already gone through the process and most of them are importing established brands etc etc and so on. And most home growers don't have the mix of knowledge, and time to do all the hinky beaurocracy shit as a backyard operation, so they mostly just grow and quietly share with besties if they got overflow, and it's kind of whatever they got.

I've also lived in a location where it was legal, as it went legal, so I remember watching this process happen before. The first thing that happens is lines down entire blocks at major established medical dispensaries, while the overage joe still smokes something from their friend's potted plant basically, and it's cool, as long as you're not like, busted trying to distribute random shit on the corner.

And then over time the market shifts because since legalization application is open for everyone else in a few months, after it's Roughly Pretended Nobody Planted Early, We Swear, and smaller licensed recreational-predominant dispensaries open, but often struggle and fail on profit margins vs operations vs whatever. Like I have literally seen this circus, I have watched the monkeys rise and then die.

So I hear them asking, well, isn't this gonna bring the cost of weed way down? and I'm like... nyes?

If you mean the demand to have some random shit dropped in your mailbox by your uncle Ben's neighbor, yeah, that's gonna go through the floor. Even if they Swear It's Their Best Shit. Because the market is going to be full of high end prices with menus and educational information that lets customers select what they want, and the prices START where they used to be and only go up from there, plus taxes. So. No. Weed actually gets a little more expensive but the shit you get is hand over fists better.

Like someone I know is all "You know weed is cheap, no matter how good it is right, where do you think I get all my shit." and I'm like. You get all your shit because it's inventory nobody wants, was harvested way too young and is indiscernible from higher end ditch weed dude, this is just what market availability has done.

Then they argue, no, don't order your seeds from XYZ, my buddy in colorado can send you any strain you want, bet.

Nawwwww. NAWWWWWW. That's shit they shook off their plants, best guess at gendering and is probably lowkey hybridized somehow, no I want to know EXACTLY what they fuck I'm starting with and be in control of my plants without having an invasion of boys fucking up the crop.

So then of course there's the issue of competition even if I got the startup equipment. Yeah, lots of people grow for themselves, but expecting to make a profit margin is where people fuck up. Because by the time they pay for space beyond one table in their kitchen, or anywhere to sell it or have space, they're in the hole before they ever open the door.

So considering the remodeling plans I had, the local zoning and other things, I got the operations front covered, and it'd be part of a paid off home. It's just built in cost of living anyway, only now Home Earns Money with the layout I have planned and so on, because again, I need to remodel the basement for disabled living anyway, And This Fits. Wheelchair floorplan and all.

But um. Because of my life path, DESPITE my somehow squeaky clean record, I have seen things. The system will ironically let me coast through application easily as an, awww, look at these two white nerds trying to make a profit margin on their pain management dotting all their i's and crossing all their Ts. When really we have quarterly plans set out for two years as a rough estimate.

We being a friend of mine, a dear real life friend, who has history in realty, accounting and business management that was looking for a way out of the grind too, and is happy to help quickbooks his way through this and match the money I can put in on the 18th.

Because no, no I will never be able to out compete the established big dispensaries. But I got something better. The common sense to know pulling in a quarter what they target in a week is great. The ability to incorporate it to living expenses. The available manpower to handle all the form filling and dotted i's and crossed T's on that end while I handle the production, at no cost to us, no inflation to customer, and everything beyond some essentials really being minimal cost for profit. And cured and treated right you get this sticky bud NO dispensary can match, period.

And then there's where I'm at. I'm in a food desert. How do you think the dispensaries look. If you go up the main road maybe five miles there's one, and I can guarantee you it'll be expensive as fuck, so everyone will keep buying ditch weed.

The point is to be the middle ground of that, to be KNOWN to those people, to have local referrals and community.

Like naw, I don't want a store front. I'll do everything I can to be healthy, legal, maintained, all of that and it won't be that hard with the two of us. But you get me 200 locals that already spend 500 a month in weed you got me 100K/month, bro. And they still get to menu pick That Good Shit like at the dispensaries but because there's no storefront or middle management it outprices them for actual hand reared good shit that aint dried out or whatever.

Yeah. I know EXACTLY what the fuck I'm doing, and to NOT overgrow and to NOT overaim, and to KEEP it small and simple and to NOT expect to be a millionaire overnight, but rather, to be a Thousandaire smoothly for a bit and, then if my buddy does the right business cost writeoffs, we can see about expanding year two or what have you. Yeah, sure, buy the house this year on early profit margins, collateral it against itself for repairs and write it off as a business expense to get started. The room is there but it's not about ever trying to be One Of Those Ones. It's about fitting a local demand in a market and being THE one to set up that demand, and you can't do that if you fuck around waiting a month to invest it.

SOOOO to roll back to the start of this post on the 18th I am Buying Some Shit that will not see investment return for, oh, 10-14 weeks one could say, and then after that things start rolling, at about the rate getting a license approved happens, iykyk.

It's just about 500 investment on either end, scaled to 15 plants expected to drop 15-25 low to high ounces as a start. You can outprice the market and still pull 100K. And after you get round one going next month double it over into a second wave with a few more troughs and again the next month. You only run three. Suddenly it's like when you have too many chickens. That's it that's the sweet spot right there. So give it a quarter.

So that's about where I'm at right now. I'm worried about getting them started first, as I can't fight against time itself. He's gonna work out the licensing and LLCs shit in the meantime and put in his half and we're getting it rolling NOW. I can bat around customer reward and referral programs loosely and whatnot as that's already on the mind, but this is the point of motion I'm at right as my hip literally blew, so there's a lot of chair sitting by force going on right now. [uses cane to push gamer chair around the house] HOLDING FOR INVESTMENT MONEY FIRST CHAIR SECNOD I CAN MAKE IT TILL THE FIRST DAMMIT.

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