tie slide

A really harrowed-looking man who was probably in his 60s came into the shop today. He was wearing a gold-colored tie that kept sliding down the side of his neck because it was tied very poorly, and a rumpled light blue dress shirt. I did not see his legs or shoes. Part-time cashiers are sometimes just not afforded the luxury.

We said hello to each other as I scanned his items (diet coke and a nature valley granola bar- $2.69), me sounding more interested than usual just because he sounded so out-of breath and very engaged in his purchase. Also maybe because I could not see his shoes.

“How’s your life going?” He suddenly asked, swiping his card, not casually but almost pleadingly curious.

“Uhm, all right I s’pose” I said, too startled to think of a more cheery lie. 

He nodded somberly. “Me too… I guess.” He paused and looked at me for a minute and then just said “it’s a Monday, ya know.”

“Mondays are like this sometimes” I supplied, feeling like we were having a really weird conversation hidden under the one that was actually taking place.

And then he left. I forgot to look at his shoes.   

Narcissus

Each breath comes
easier than the last
as I slide my tie into place,
and the suit jacket settles,
a firm weight on my shoulders.

Finally, in my reflection I see
the man of my own dreams.
Cool, clean-shaven, collected, confident,
perfect.
With such beautiful eyes, and a smile
that would put a nymph to shame,
and those gentle waves of hair
that echo-

My reflection snarls.
Echo.

In sharp,
jerky
motions,
I dab on more makeup to disguise those
marring
dark circles,
the results of this ridiculousness,
these charges,
this early morning hearing.

Echo, Echo, Echo.
Who even cares?

It’s what she gets for trying to touch me.
Murder? No. Not my fault, that girl couldn’t keep her balance.

Echo, Echo, Echo,
ugh, just had to scream.
Echo, Echo, Echo.
Can’t even leave me be when she’s dead.

Deep breaths. Smooth your jacket-
no, leave it unbuttoned,
you’ll look even better.
Oh, Nemesis, Nemesis, prosecutor…
Don’t you know who my parents are?
There, smile, don’t look so afflicted,
no one could possibly condemn such a beauty.

Spider Sense

Anonymous request for Spencer’s reaction when the reader asks him to kill a spider.

I have a ritual when I go about taking a shower. It has specified steps, and while I’m not OCD or controllingly organized, my own personal rituals are somewhat sacred to me. I take my shower at five thirty every morning. When I crawl out of the bed that I share with Spencer, I grab my robe from it’s hook on my bedroom walk and make my way to the adjoining master bathroom. There, I shed my clothing from top to bottom; shirt, bra, pants, panties, socks. I tend to face the mirror and unbraid my hair. I almost always sleep in a braid because I like it out of my way. I slide the tie onto my wrist and shake out my wavy hair. I brush it, and then I put my hairbrush away. For some reason, I like to brush my teeth before I shower, so I do that. I get my towel and lay it out, within arms reach for when I’m done. Then I take the bath mat down off the side of the tub, where it hangs.
That’s when, this morning, my routine went awry.
I screamed bloody murder and Spencer was there in seconds, gun drawn. His hair was wild and his face was red on one side, his clothing wrinkled and one sock missing.
Well, at least I know he has good reaction time.
“(Y/N),” he said, looking around wildly. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Kill it!” I shrieked.
“Kill what?” He asked, waving his gun.
“No, Spencer, not with the gun!” I yelled. I jumped back as the spider started to crawl, pointing at the small black predator on the bath mat.
“You can’t kill a spider with a gun!” I said.
“A spider?” Spencer squeaked. “Where?”
“On the bath mat,” I replied, skittering back again.
“Ewww Spencer please kill it,” I begged.
“(Y/N), did you know that there are over-” he began, but I cut him off.
“Not now, Spencer, please kill the damn spider!” I said.
“Oh, right,” he said, setting his gun down and stomping the little nemesis. He turned back to me, as if seeing me for the first time.
“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?” He asked, sounding confused.
I stared at him.
“Thank you, Spencer. You can go back to bed now.”
He shrugged, but nodded and kissed my cheek before shuffling off back to bed.
Like I said, at least he has good reaction time.

Famous Last Words

Summary: In a world where the last words your soulmate will say to you are written on your wrist, fearful and introverted Phil works in a bookstore. His greatest fear? The words counting down the seconds until he meet his soulmate, someone called ‘Dan.’ But it isn’t until he befriends a university student that he nicknames ‘Bear’ that Phil realizes that surviving through fear isn’t the same as living.

A/N: After almost four months it still hasn’t really set in yet that this is the last time I’m going to do this…


                                                Masterpost


Chapter Twenty

       Phil stared at his reflection in the mirror, tightening his tie and sliding his feet into his shoes. He tried for a smile as he shrugged on his coat, but the result was a forced expression that he thought was probably a little too much like a grimace for the occasion. He abandoned the effort a few seconds later, releasing a long breath and turning away from his reflection. He couldn’t particularly say that he liked what he saw very much.

         As he walked past his desk Phil swept the index card off of the surface and folded it. He folded it again, another time, and then again. He paused in the entryway of his bedroom door, unfolding the card and staring at the completely blank paper as though it held the answers to all the world’s questions.

         Phil closed his eyes, willing the card to have a speech magically appear on it by the time he opened his eyes again. After waiting a minute or two he cracked an eyelid open, staring at the predictably though disappointingly blank card.

        He refolded the disappointingly blank index card and shoved it into his pocket as he closed the door to his flat, forgoing the stairs in favor of the lift. He had never been much of a fan for exercise as it was, and as he already felt like he was skating the line a little by not having written his speech the last thing he needed was to fall down the stairs and get his suit all bloody.

Keep reading

archiveofourown.org
i love you, honey, i'm ready to go by thorduna - a Thor/Loki fic
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Additional Tags: Daddy Kink, Sibling Incest, Shower Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Rimming, Felching, 69 (Sex Position), Pseudo-Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Alternate Universe - Human

Series: Part 2 of Million Dollar Man

Summary:
Sequel to one for the money, two for the show. A very happy and porny one.

“Are you happy it’s Friday?” he asks, sliding the tie from Thor’s neck. Thor laughs and pulls him close, hands slipping to his ass in the same way they always seem to these days.

Thor and Loki settle down into what they are to each other and celebrate. With shower sex. And bed sex. And some more.