#THIS IS EMBARRASSING!!!! I AM A UNIVERSITY STUDENT I HAVE A CAR

[ambreiiigns]

i . randomly thought abt gojo & geto and my chest started hurting

[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[powermakar]

Slut! (3+1) - LS2

Summary: 3 times you break down and Logan pulls you in and the 1 time he breaks down and you pull him in. Based off of the song "Slut!" by Taylor Swift

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: Swearing, self-deprecation, and Qatar 2023

1- I crashed my car

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Logan, I, Logan…” you try again.

“Y/n what happened? Are you okay? Did you get into an accident? Where are you?” Logan quickly asks as panic builds up inside of him. 

A quick “yes” is all you are able to croak out. “I crashed my car, I don’t know what to do and I need you,” you say with tears rolling down your face. “The other guy is being an asshole and he just keeps yelling and swearing at me.” Wiping your runny nose on your sleeve you say, “I’m scared, please hurry up.”

“I’m on my way, just try to breathe with me, we don’t want you to hyperventilate,” he tries to joke. 

As you mentally go through the checklist of things you know what to look for and ask for when you get into an accident, you can’t seem to think straight. Embarrassment, the fear of failure and disappointment run through your veins. You can’t even imagine how angry people will be at you, and that thought alone just scares you. You walk to the back of your car to reassess the damage, luckily there is a miniscule dent on the back of the bumper. Nothing really worth fixing or paying any attention to. When you turn to the man’s car you cringe inwardly as more tears prick your eyes. You look back at the man and say, “I am very sorry sir, I really do not know what happened but I am willing to pay for any of the damage.” 

The man looks you up and down before telling you to shut up. At his abrupt comment, you turn away from him as more tears begin to run down your face. “Don’t you walk away from me you bitch!” the man yells. 

Unfortunately for the man, Logan heard his comment as he was getting out of his car. “Do not ever call her a bitch ever again, do you understand?” he says as he walks towards you. You see the man awkwardly turn away from the two of you.

Logan turns to you as you quietly call his name and engulfs you in a hug. “It’s okay, we will figure this out, don’t worry about it, angel,” he whispers as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.. All you could manage was a little hum. 

And I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in. In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

2- I’m tired 

Being a university student is exhausting. Add in a boyfriend, a social life, and a job, all of your days seem to blur together. As the weeks went on, assignments and projects stacked on top of each other in a never ending loop. Once you finished one project, you were assigned another one along with some long-term assignments you needed to constantly work on. This week in particular seemed extra hard. Two projects, one discussion, and five different assignments were all due in a span of three days and you haven’t even started on some of them. You knew it was going to be a long week of sleepless nights. You were fine with it though, this is what you wanted anyways. Right? 

“Hey angel, do you want to go out to the theater and go to dinner after?” Logan asks as he walks into the kitchen area. 

“I would love to, Lo, but I really have to work on all of these assignments. They are all due pretty soon and I don’t have much done,” you sigh.

“Oh come on Y/n, you’ve been working extremely hard and you deserve a break. Please, for me?” 

“I deserve a break after I finish these. It is important that I finish these. Please just let me finish.” 

“Ok, how about we just go out to dinner and skip the movie?” 

“Logan, don't you understand that I’m tired and I just want to be alone so I can finish these assignments. God, you are so annoying. Just stop bothering me, please.” you abruptly say. Logan, who was taken back by your rude outburst, just looks at you before walking into your shared room. 

You couldn’t focus on your work after Logan left, all you could think about was the look on his face after you yelled at him. You were running on a few hours of sleep and you knew that wasn’t an excuse, you felt awful. 

Walking to the bedroom you gently knock on the door, “Lo, can I come in?” 

“Go work on your assignments, I don’t want to talk” he says muffled. Ignoring his comment, you walk into the room anyway. 

“I’m really sorry Logan. You aren’t annoying, it was a bad thing for me to say. I’m just really tired and overwhelmed so I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have.” The tiredness suddenly hits you like a train and emotions are running high. 

“I’m really sorry Lo. I did not mean it and I really feel awful. I’m so sorry” you say, feeling a tear roll down your cheek. 

“Come here Y/n. I know you didn’t mean it, I also know how serious you take your studies so I shouldn’t have really asked you to step away from it for some stupid movie,” Logan says while pulling you into his lap. 

Burying you head into his chest, you can feel more tears fall. “I’m sorry for getting your shirt all wet”. 

“It’s okay. How about we get some take-out and I will try to help you with some of your work?” 

“I would really love that Lo, thank you.”

And I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in. In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

3- I read the comments

You knew that you would have to deal with all of Logan’s fans and others when you first started dating him. You knew that, you understood that, but what you couldn’t understand was the fact that they will scrutinize every single little detail about you. You didn’t understand why they didn’t do it to the other girlfriends, not that you wanted them to experience it, it just felt like you were singled out. Maybe the others did get all of this hate but they just hid it or covered it up well. That is something you would never be able to do. The comments were on your mind 24/7, it was all you could think about nowadays. 

Looking into the bathroom mirror, all you saw was the few stretch marks on your thighs and how much more you weighed compared to everyone else. Now you did not blame Logan for posting the picture of you two on a beach over the summer break. You blamed yourself. Why did you have to look like that? Why did you have to weigh what you did? Why did Logan date you and not someone skinnier? 

It was like a never ending spiral. Soon you were taking off your shirt to look at the ‘lumps’ on your stomach. Gently grabbing the skin, you pulled on it, imagining how much less you would weigh if you were to cut it off. Your eyes made it up to your boobs where some of the upper flesh was spilling out of the cups of your bra. ‘Tiger stripes’ were what Logan called them, you called them stretch marks and were embarrassed of them. Logan said that they were one of his favorite things about you, they were probably your least favorite thing about yourself. 

You didn’t even register the bathroom door opening until you made eye contact with Logan in the mirror. “What are you doing?” he asks as his eyes make their way over your breasts. 

“Oh, I was just- uhm, just…” you say, clearing your throat. 

“Doing what exactly?” 

“Do you ever read the comments on your Instagram posts?” you ask abruptly. 

“No not really, why?”

“Well I read the comments. Are you not embarrassed about me? To be seen with me? To post a picture of you beside a person like me?” 

“What are you talking about Y/n? I would never be embarrassed about you. I love you, don’t you know that?”

“Logan you shouldn’t be with someone who looks like a whale when they go to the beach or with someone who has stretch marks all over their body.” These were just two of the comments that seemed to run like a broken record in your mind. 

“What the hell? You look perfect, angel. In fact you are perfect Y/n. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you. Whoever put those silly ideas in your head should be embarrassed and ashamed of themselves for saying such things about a beautiful person. Now let me show you how much I love you.”

You can feel a faint blush rise to your cheeks as you turn off the bathroom light off, leaving your discarded shirt laying on the floor, and the bad idea in the air. 

And I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in. In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

+1- I crash and burn constantly

Another DNF in the books. Another podium for Oscar in the books. You felt torn between sickness and happiness. You felt awful for Logan as he wasn’t able to finish the race due to the bad conditions and felt sick to your stomach as his F1 career could be on the line, it was all he really dreamed about. But you felt happy for your long-time friend Oscar as he seems to be finding his spot within F1 with McLaren. 

You grab a water bottle on your way into Logan’s driver’s room. You don’t even knock. You just walk into the room and sit down on the couch. You look over to Logan and you don’t even dare to utter a word to him. You know he doesn’t want to talk about it so you don’t even bother with it. He looks up at you but quickly turns away and looks at his shoes resting in the corner of the room. 

Clearing his throat, he asks, “Did you go watch Oscar’s podium celebration?” 

“No” is all you say. 

“You should have. You should be out celebrating with him and Lily. Go and congratulate him, you shouldn’t be in here with me.” 

There was something just…off about him. “I doubt this would be the only opportunity to congratulate him.” 

“You’ll never get to congratulate me.” 

“You know that is not what I meant. I congratulate you after every race. There aren’t enough words to tell you how proud I am of you.” 

“You aren’t proud of me. You are proud of Oscar. You are just embarrassed of me. I’m lucky if I get to finish my race, let alone fight for a podium. I have been out-qualified by Alex every single damn time. I crash and burn everytime I get in that car and I’m fucking tired of it.” He lets out a shaky breath and runs his hands through his hair. “I’ll never be like Oscar, I’ll never be that ‘once in a generation talent’ and I don’t even have a chance at being the best rookie since Lewis. It’s too much pressure to even keep the car from hitting the wall,” he continues.

“I know I will never fully understand the pressure of being a F1 driver but I at least want to help. Help me understand what you are going through and we can work through this together. Please let me help you Logan, please,” you whisper. 

He walks over to the couch and takes a seat next to you, resting his head against your shoulder. You take a hold of his left hand and begin playing with his fingers. 

“I was fighting at the top with Oscar when all of a sudden I found myself being glad that I finished the race or even finishing P19 instead of P20 is a miracle. I just feel like I need to prove to everyone that I am capable of competing and having a seat in F1. I hate seeing how upset the mechanics get when I crash and the fact that they have to rebuild a whole damn car in a single night. And the memes and jokes, I hate seeing them. I know what a fucking kilometer is and I know that me and Oscar are now at total ends of the spectrum when it comes to results. It’s fucking hard to see everyone comparing me to him is those stupid videos.” Throughout his whole speech, you could hear multiple voice cracks. 

“Love, we all support you. Me, your family, your friends, the whole team, even Oscar supports you and only wants the best for you. Please believe that we are all so proud of you and what you have been able to accomplish.” You can feel a wet spot growing on your shoulder, when you look down you can see Logan trying to wipe his face. “It’s okay Lo, you will get the results that you want, you work so fucking hard and I know, with out a doubt, that you will achieve something great.” 

You kneel down infront of him and take his hands into your own. “Please trust me on that Logan, please.” 

“I trust you Y/n, 100%” 

And he breaks down, then I’m pullin’ him in. 

[calciumcryptid]

Things Arc Has Done so Far

Arc rapid-fire angrily texted the admin of a site he does not know for putting his photograph up without his permission (this is the only valid thing he has done in the entire show so far).

When the admin wasn't quick enough to take it down, Arc then sent a photograph of him flipping them off with full view of the middle finger (valid, but give the admin a second mate).

His response to Arm spraying water all over his face was to fall in love with him even more (fine, I am not going to kink-shame). He even allowed this guy to wipe off his face for a bit despite his scary and elusive exterior.

As soon as it was suggested Arm was cold, Arc made an excuse to go to the bathroom so he could give his jacket to Arm. He did this by throwing his jacket in Arm's face.

After Arm offered his jacket back, Arc told him to keep it so Arm could have some pre-relationship boyfriend clothes. Arc did this by claiming he doesn't wear anything after anyone and he couldn't stand Arm's perfume.

He routinely drives Arm around, even though he was asked to do it roughly three times (the first time he outright rejected). One of those instances was driving him to and from the hospital after Arm embarrassed himself on stage, so Arc has interesting taste.

After Arm remarks Arc wouldn't want his perfume to stink up his [Arc] car, Arc responds by very blatantly sniffing Arm in public. He does all of this to prove that Arm wasn't wearing any perfume, so he was free to get in his car.

He told Arm to find the site admin (which is Arm) as a return favor for a car ride, which is a very disproportionate return favor and yanked on Arm's tie to pull him closer.

As soon as Arc returned to his condo, he demanded his friends give him their keycards back because he doesn't want to be cock-blocked in the future. Arc has only interacted with Arm three times at this point.

Side Note: It is not canon in the show, but the previous point leads me to believe Arc has masturbated off-camera at least once during the first episode.

Arc showed up the next day, unprompted, to drive Arm (+ his friends) to campus.

Arc, presumably, made Arm sit in the passenger seat, even though backseats are made to hold at least three people and Arm and his friends are a total of three people.

Arc left the food and drinks his football fans gifted him to go and get food at the resident cafeteria so he could bother Arm. In order to do this, he missed the second half of a football game to all of his friends confusion.

Side Note: Does he have Arm's schedule memorized? Though, as a fellow engineering student he probably is going off his first-year schedule if it is all gen eds and base courses (of course, Thailand's university system is probably different than the States).

Arc paid for Arm's drink (and presumably food) unprompted. When asked why, he called Arm a dog (fine, if that is what you are into).

Arc walked away after stealing Arm's drink to ensure Arm would have to follow and sit by him. To keep Arm with him, he made it a stipulation he would not accept a random girl's friend request if Arm left.

Arc fed Arm food with a spoon.

Arc took Arm's phone, unlocked it with Arm's face identification, and called one of his friends so Arm could say he was leaving on his own and Arc could monopolize his time.

Whatever the fuck the dorm scene was.

Instead of taking a shower in the football field showers or at his condo, Arc decided he wanted to take a shower at Arm's dorm.

While taking his shower at Arm's dorm, Arc asked Arm if he could use his shower gel. Despite, you know, all the previous scenes of him complaining about Arm's smell and blatantly sniffing him public.

After taking said shower and using said shower gel, Arc walked out of the shower, half-naked, with only a towel around his waist in a dorm that was not his infront of his gracious host [Arm] without the permission of his gracious host or his gracious host's roommate.

Instead of answering Arm's question of where his shirt was, Arc answered by figuring out which bed was Arm's and lounging across that bed like a slutty self-satisfied cat.

After Arm accidentally fell onto Arc and tried to pull-away, Arc pulled him closer to him in a generally romantic way.

Then, Arc flips them over so Arm is on his back and leans in real close while confessing he doesn't want to mess with anyone else.

Arc appears to sniff Arm again.

Finally, Arc watched Arm walk away with his eyes firmly on his ass (you cannot convince me Arc was not staring at Arm's ass).

I need to remind everyone this is only episode one.

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — minjeong's deal

aeri uchinaga's mansion, gangnam-gu, seoul, korea. 2:43 am.

WARNINGS ; cheating, drug/alcohol imparement, manipulation, slut shaming, incel behavior, suggestive (3.3k)

kim minjeong had met y/n about an hour after jang wonyoung.

the younger girl had strayed from the viewing group, wanting a more in-depth tour than the one kwon eunbi was offering her. she had read about the school online, and her connections (read: BTS' jin) had told her the best place to view the campus was in the first year's dorms, at the very top of the building.

it was minjeong's favorite place too, seeing all the cars scattered and all the students lingering.

y/n wore a red suma sweater that day, sporting it as if she had already been admitted to the university. her hair was lazily tied into a high ponytail, stray strands littering her face, all signs that indicated she was already part of the suma student body.

but minjeong could tell that she had never stepped on the school grounds until today. the amazement in her eyes seemed to shine brighter than the sun itself, and minjeong felt almost hypnotized.

"um, are you supposed to be here?"

y/n looked at her and minjeong swore she had never seen someone so pretty until her.

she looked like a movie star, one of the ones you saw as you browsed through the menu of a streaming platform. her face was flushed with embarrassment, coating the tip of her nose which lay a singular beauty mark, and minjeong could feel her cheeky smile radiating with an innocence that she wanted to have for herself.

"please don't tell anyone." even her voice was pretty. "i promise i was just looking."

kim minjeong could feel her heart beat out of her chest.

this was their secret, hers and this stranger's.

"i won't tell."

y/n nodded, smiling at the older girl as she looked down at the group she was supposed to be a part of.

minjeong could feel herself getting more and more nervous being around her. she wondered if this could finally be it.

"what's your name?" minjeong asked.

"mine?" y/n hummed. "my name is y/n."

y/n.

she was gonna make y/n hers, no matter what it took.

"i'm minjeong."

the suma student watched as y/n looked away from the crowd, her cat-like eyes staring into her dark irises. the air of the vents seemed to breeze along the hairs on minjeong's neck, the girl forcing back a shiver.

y/n...

y/n smiled at her.

jimin glared at the shorter girl crying into her hands.

the party was slowly dying downstairs, albeit at a snail's pace, and the smell of weed was starting to become less pungent. jimin had sobered up quite a bit, the vase full of her vomit leaving a reminder. her stomach still hurt from huh yunjin's constant kicking, but all that pain seemed to dull out as she saw kim minjeong whimpering sadly in the corner like a stray dog.

she hated kim minjeong.

"she chose wonyoung over you again." jimin snickered, speaking in a loud voice over the music.

minjeong looked up, glaring at the volleyball player as she gripped her stomach.

y/n didn't know what she was doing. it was just because she was frantic, and she didn't want to bug minjeong, the latter deduced. she should've asked her best friend, and minjeong would gladly carry her off to a safer place, away from wonyoung and jimin.

what did wonyoung have that she didn't?

"shut up."

"you'd think that you'd let go of this stupid crush on her by now." jimin loved pushing minjeong's buttons. she could practically see the steam coming off her head as the girl gritted her teeth. "she doesn't love you."

y/n did. minjeong was sure of it.

the older girl had done everything by the book. she had taken her out to dinner, paying for all her food and ordering any extra things she wanted despite barely having money to scrape by. she had always let y/n vent to her, listening to all her problems even when it bored her out of her mind. she had even put up with wonyoung for a couple months, allowing y/n to engage in sexual activities with the girl, knowing it was just one of those slutty phases.

minjeong was perfect. y/n had to have loved her.

"she does!" minjeong stood up, marching towards jimin as the older girl stood up. she grabbed her by the collar of her shit, the high making her mind swirl. "you have no clue what you're talking about!"

jimin snickered, the smell of puke and beer making minjeong wince. she pulled back, her eyes dull from the drugs in her system.

"you're delusional as hell."

minjeong needed to clear her head. y/n would hate it if she got hurt, like the caring person she was. she just needed to relax, and surely tomorrow morning, the younger girl would embrace her and everything would be the way it should be.

wonyoung wouldn't get in the way. y/n wouldn't do that to her again.

minjeong's stomach churned.

jimin could read minjeong like a book. she was everything she was. ambitious, volatile, a perfectionist. if minjeong hadn't been so aggrevating to be around, jimin would've gladly ruined her then and there.

"it doesn't feel good, does it?"

minjeong covered her ears, trying to ignore the volleyball player laughs. jimin was just saying things to annoy her. she had no idea what she was talking about.

"why would she date a fucking virgin anyway?" minjeong flinched. "you know nothing about her. how are you gonna find her-"

kim minjeong hated yoo jimin.

"don't talk about her like that!"

"why?" jimin took a step forward, leaning down as she looked minjeong in the eye. "are you mad that i got to touch her first? that she moans my name instead of yours?"

minjeong shook her head, screwing her eyes shut. sure, y/n had her rebellious streaks. she would comment about things that minjeong would internally disapprove of, and would post photos wearing outfits that minjeong didn't like, but she wouldn't fuck jimin willingly.

y/n was hers. she was minjeong's y/n, and no one else's.

"shut up!"

jimin could see the girl spiraling, the volleyball player's presence too hard to ignore. she understood all the younger girl's worries and fears, even if minjeong didn't know she had any.

god, jimin loved ruining pretty girls.

"she wouldn't do that!" minjeong clenched her fist. "she's just trying to make me angry."

jimin burst out laughing, and minjeong could feel herself overheating from anger.

"she doesn't even love you." jimin's could feel tears starting to form in her eyes from laughing so hard. "why would she care?"

y/n loved minjeong. she had to.

"she does love me!" minjeong could feel her heart racing, drug-laced hatred filling her veins. "she just-"

"keeps choosing people aside from your loser ass?"

minjeong flinched.

she wasn't a loser. she was quiet, yes, but she was pretty. she knew how to talk to girls, and she got decent grades without even trying. she held doors open for them, and smiled at them. she always offered her train seats to the elderly, and always walked on the side closest to street.

she was nice. she wasn't a loser. girls didn't like losers.

"she's just trying to make me angry." minjeong was a good person. she deserved someone as good as her. "she's just playing hard to get. you would've fucking understand since you're easy."

jimin clenched her jaw. it wasn't her fault that girls just threw themselves onto her. she was only human. by the third person, she just couldn't resist. jimin was still loyal to y/n emotionally.

but y/n wasn't, and deep down jimin knew that maybe she never was. it gutted her knowing that her girlfriend was probably thinking of wonyoung every time the two of them kissed.

"easy? i'm easy?" jimin scoffed, leaning closer to the girl with the bloodshot eyes. "i bet that slut under some girl right now."

minjeong's stomach churned.

"no, she doesn't!" she couldn't. y/n knew better than to upset her. "she wouldn't do that to me! she loves me!"

jimin rolled her eyes. "she went home with wonyoung, remember?"

minjeong shook her head once more.

"no, she didn't!" minjeong didn't hear it, and even if she did, she knew she heard wrong. y/n was hers. only hers. "you're lying."

jimin paused.

she looked at the shorter girl, her eyes red and system full of whatever lay in aeri's kitchen. jimin wondered if minjeong was actually this deranged, or if it was all because of the weed.

"are you deaf all of a sudden?" jimin laughter halted. "she asked wonyoung to bring her home. not you."

minjeong hated jang wonyoung.

she hated the way the taller girl could make y/n smile. she hated how wonyoung could come in, and sweep her off her feet. she hated that no matter how hard minjeong tried, y/n would always notice wonyoung in a room before her.

"no..." minjeong shook her head, watching as jimin smiled at her. "she wouldn't hurt me like that."

y/n kept hurting her. it wasn't fair. she did everything. it wasn't fair.

"she doesn't give a shit about you, minjeong."

minjeong could feel the weed hitting her system full force, the pressure in her head almost unbearable. her eyes felt like it was about to pop out, and everything seemed so distant.

if y/n wasn't gonna love her, if y/n wouldn't learn to love her, she would just show her how much it hurt. minjeong would make y/n understand how badly it gutted her to see her with another girl that she wasn't supposed to be with.

y/n would understand then. she would stay away from jimin, from wonyoung, from everyone and be with her.

pain was all minjeong could feel, and all minjeong could teach.

"fuck you."

minjeong had had her first kiss with a girl named miyawaki sakura.

she was pretty, with big, doe eyes and a smile that anyone would kill for. they had met during minjeong's first year, and the journalism major had ensured that minjeong wouldn't ever be left alone. it could've been great, if it weren't for lee chaeyeon getting in the way.

minjeong had pressured the older girl, even when sakura had told her to leave her alone.

but minjeong had always been persistent.

she lunged at jimin, her lips colliding with the older girl's like two stars forming a black hole.

everything felt like fire.

she could feel the pads of jimin's fingertips, and how the chilling sensation sent shivers up her spine. the younger girl could feel their teeth clashing messily, jimin's tongue forcing its way down her throat. all she tasted was a concoction of jin, rum, and vodka as jimin's hands found their way under minjeong's shirt.

she pulled away with a gasp, letting the volleyball player strip her down into nothing but her underwear as she fumbled with the buttons of jimin's pants.

she pushed jimin onto the bed, letting the garment pool to the older girl's ankles before straddling her.

minjeong was gonna ruin her, just like jimin had ruined her life.

she leaned down, marking the volleyball player's shoulder with a bite. she didn't care if y/n saw, minjeong wanted her to see. she wanted the younger girl to know how awful it felt to know the girl she loved fucked someone else.

minjeong wanted y/n to feel her pain.

jimin's hands wandered as minjeong took off the ace's already crumpled shirt, hurrying to take off her bra along with it.

"you can't get the girl so you fuck her ex?" jimin propped herself up on her shoulders, smirking at the girl above her. "you're fucking psycho."

it felt good to know that y/n was going to regret her decisions, but it felt even better to know that minjeong would have yoo jimin wrapped around her finger in a matter of seconds.

"fuck you."

aeri uchinaga wondered why the party had died down so suddenly.

mere minutes ago, crowds of people had gathered in her living quarters, getting drunk and high out of their minds. now, there were only a few people left wandering the halls, gathering their drunk friends and ushering to get them home.

(she had seen yujin passed out in front of the laundry room door, and judging by the bottles surrounding the younger girl, she was most likely gonna stay there all night.)

she had shot her not-yet-but-hopefully-soon girlfriend, baek alex, a text, hoping that the younger girl hadn't gotten herself in another one of yena's brilliant ideas. aeri had only been met with one reply:

jimin's upstairs. i saw her an hour ago.

the message held many meanings, a couple of which ended with jimin drinking herself into a puddle of her own vomit. though usually, it had been jimin breaking a random assortment of her things in a fit of rage.

yoo jimin had always been an angry drunk.

aeri sighed, going upstairs as the remnants of the partygoers started to disappear more and more. she turned the hall, expecting to see a broken painting or a smashed-up vase.

she didn't expect to see jimin two fingers deep in a random girl.

aeri covered her eyes, looking away as she screeched. no matter how many times jimin brought a girl over, she was never gonna get used to seeing her butt naked.

(come to think of it, jimin was never naked. she hated it when people touched her.)

the mystery girl shot up, pushing jimin off of her as she covered her entire body with the only pillow left on the bed.

jimin could feel herself reeling back to reality, her face heating up. most times, she would get angry at aeri for walking in, but she usually wasn't naked most times.

"shit," jimin looked around. "um..."

aeri glanced at the two girls wide-eyed, before grabbing the door handle. she had no idea how long jimin had been up here with her, but she could take a couple guesses based on the marks that littered their bodies.

"wait," jimin called before closing the door. her heart was pumping in her chest. "please don't tell anyone."

toying with minjeong was an experience that jimin didn't think she'd enjoy. it was like striking a match and throwing it into a pool of gasoline. watching minjeong throw away everything just for her pleasure made jimin ten times more excited.

but jimin wasn't gonna let anyone know. not when minjeong could easily hold it above her head and threaten her loving relationship with y/n.

aeri nodded, eyes clenched shut.

"i'm not going to!" the uchinaga just wanted to leave and erase... that image from her mind. "why the hell would i?! it's not like she's your girlfriend or anything!"

the room rang silent, and minjeong could feel her heart suddenly drop at the thought of y/n finding out. she looked over to jimin, the exact same expression on her face.

oh...

minjeong could use this (but so could jimin).

aeri listened to the lack of protest, the air hanging dead.

"...is she your girlfriend?"

minjeong could still feel the weed in her system, and the intensity of the situation wasn't helping clear her head. jimin's gaze burned into the side of her head, turning around before she opened her mouth.

but minjeong was faster.

"um..." minjeong whispered, her heart threatening to leave her throat. "i... i am."

jimin whipped her head to look at the younger girl, mouthing 'what are you doing?' before clenching her jaw. she needed to clear this up, before aeri had gotten the wrong idea.

the ace looked at the frightened minjeong, who seemed to regret ever meeting said girl, and all she could do was smirk.

minjeong had no choice but to come back, and god, did jimin love ruining pretty girls.

"jimin settled down?" aeri furrowed her eyebrows, hand still gripped on the half-closed door.

minjeong shot jimin a questioning look. had aeri never heard of y/n?

jimin cleared her throat. "leave, aeri."

aeri nodded, eyes still clenched tight. her manicured nails snaked its way to the inside doorknob, twisting the lock before she slammed it close. she was in no way, shape, or form ever gonna mention anything about tonight to anyone. she needed that image out of her head.

she turned around, a chill of disgust running through her spine.

aeri wished she could've met jimin's girlfriend in a different way, but she was glad that her best friend finally let go of the shadow that was hwang yeji.

jimin glared at minjeong as soon as the door slammed closed.

part of her was happy that minjeong would come crawling back to her from time to time, but her stomach churned at the idea of y/n finding out. she had always been careful to not hurt her girlfriend with her rendezvous, keeping her contact names vague enough for her to know, but for y/n to never find out.

but she knew aeri loved to snoop, and she was good at it too.

"are you fucking stupid?" jimin spat out. "what if y/n finds out?"

if y/n found out, there were only two things that could happen; she would run to jimin, or she would run to her. minjeong knew that y/n would always take her side, but her gut seemed to churn at the possibility of y/n going to someone instead.

she needed this to stay quiet, to use it as leverage, to bring her y/n closer to her and away from everyone else. when the time came - if the time came - minjeong would tell her, but by then, she and y/n would already be together.

minjeong could feel the haziness starting to fade.

"do you want your friend knowing i'm your ex-girlfriend's best friend?"

"you're not special." but she was. she was everything jimin hated about herself, everything that jimin wanted to change. "you're just a body."

jimin watched as hurt spread through her face.

"was y/n just a body to you too?"

jimin had never wanted to punch someone more.

"that's different."

"i know her more than you ever will." minjeong knew every breath that y/n took, she knew which places she frequented, which food she was allergic to. she knew. "she doesn't love you either. she never has."

she was right. jimin knew she was right.

"shut up!" y/n was hers. she was her trophy. the shiny proof that jimin had stayed a good person despite every curveball life had thrown at her. she wasn't ruined, she had y/n. "you're the fucking freak sleeping with her ex!"

minjeong looked away, her face contorting to something jimin had only seen in a mirror.

"she hurt me!" minjeong gripped her pillow tighter, raising her voice. "i'm just trying to teach her a lesson, okay?"

perhaps it started as a lesson, but minjeong couldn't deny everything that had transpired between them.

"this wasn't a lesson." jimin smirked leaning down in front of the girl's face. "you enjoyed it. i know you did."

"shut up!"

minjeong did her best to push the taller girl away, but jimin was much stronger than her. all she could do was face the consequences of her actions, and how much she truly enjoyed it.

"how's y/n gonna feel about that, huh?"

but she was y/n's forever, emotionally and physically. jimin wasn't gonna stand in the way, even if she was a good fuck.

"i fucking hate you."

jimin was addicting as she was annoying.

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[inkbyajm]

of kindling sparks

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tropes: fluff, slow-burn

warnings: 11 year age-gap (reader is 23, joel is 34)

word count: ~6000

author’s note: so this chapter as well as the next one basically serve as one long exposition before the main story (aka the prequel). i realise this is lengthy as hell but i needed to flesh out the relationship between joel and the reader for the upcoming chapters to hurt, you know?

(p.s. there's mention of joel carrying the reader. i know some people might be put off by this, but joel is quite buff. i mean the man works in construction, i promise he can handle carrying an adult for less than a minute)

————-　❈　————-

The air was getting chillier, the change of seasons not going unnoticed. (Y/N)'s focus was razor-sharp as she drove through the streets of Austin, making sure to take in the ever-changing leaves on the trees she passed by. As an exchange student, it wasn't cheap to be renting a car, and the money her parents were generously providing her could only last for so long. She desperately needed another source of income. Her prayers were answered the week prior when she stumbled upon an advertisement near the exit to her university. It was for a babysitting job with a decent pay and convenient working hours. She wrote an email to the address written on the poster:

Dear Mr. Miller, Is the babysitting job still available? I'm a student currently on an exchange program at the University of Texas. And while I haven't had prior experience in babysitting, I used to be an assistant teacher in a kindergarten. I'm very good with children and at keeping them alive (this is a joke, but I am pretty responsible, my mother can attest to this). If there is any need for it, I can also cook and clean up after each visit. Thank you for your consideration and I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely, (Y/N) (L/N)

To which, much to her surprise, she received an answer shortly after:

Dear Ms. (L/N), Yes, the babysitting job is still available. It's for my 12-year-old daughter Sarah. And while I appreciate all that you have to offer, there's nothing much to do but keep her alive, so your skill would be useful here. You can come by our house on 1411 Sullivan DR any day of the week after 5pm, we'll go over the details then. If you're still interested, you'll be able to start right away. See you soon!

Best regards, Joel Miller

After half-an-hour of driving, the house finally came into view. Just as she parked the car in the vacant driveway, and before she went to meet some stranger she hoped wouldn't turn out to be a creep, the girl gathered her wits and courage with a clasp of her hands, a deep breath, and a firm nod as if to say 'There's no going back now, and if I die, it is what it is'.

Her three knocks on the door were followed by a long pause which made her believe she had arrived either at the wrong time or the wrong house. But as she was about to turn around and flee in embarrassment, out came a middle-aged man with disheveled hair.

"Hello. Is this the Miller's house?"

"Yes, hi! I am so sorry I kept you waiting. (Y/N), right?" he said, wiping his hands on a rag.

"That's me."

"Great. I'd shake your hand, but mine are a bit dirty. Please, come in." he stepped out of the way to let her walk further into his home.

It was decently spacious and cozy, which temporarily put her at ease. They walked through the living room into the dimly lit kitchen. It smelled of spices and garlic.

He gestured around, "Welcome to our humble abode. Pardon the mess, I didn't exactly have time to tidy up," While it wasn't exactly messy, they could benefit from an extra set of hands. "You said you weren't from around here?"

"No, I'm quite a long way from home," (Y/N) said, taking a seat at the dining table. "I wanted to see other places, gain a bit of independence. Austin was one of the first to accept me, and since it seemed like a fine city to live in, I packed up my things and arrived at the beginning of summer."

"I'm Texas born and raised myself. Wouldn't dream of living anywhere else. How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-three, sir."

He proceeded to rummage through the fridge that was almost full. "Alright. Would you like a beer, then? And please, call me Joel. You're making me feel old."

"Right, Joel. And sure, I'll have one if you do."

Joel handed her a cold bottle as he sat down across from her. She was familiar with the brand, they served it at the bar she worked at part-time on weekends. For the next hour-and-a-half, the two discussed (Y/N)'s life, her studies, Joel's job as a contractor, and Sarah. At some point, the attacks on 9/11 came up, unpacking the nation-wide terror they had brought. She recalled the panicked calls she received from her parents, begging her to come home. She had to explain that she was alright, that there was nothing to do about it now, and that she couldn't leave the city when she had already formed ties and taken on responsibilities.

Just as Joel was getting into another anecdote from Sarah's childhood, they heard keys jangling in the front door as it opened and shut.

"Speak of the devil. Done playing already?"

A soft voice rang through the house, "Yeah, I'm really tired." Then a pigtailed girl stopped abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen. She was wearing a soccer kit, carrying both a purple backpack as well as a blue duffel bag.

"Sarah, this is (Y/N). She's gonna be your nanny from now on."

The little girl hesitated at first, then gently approached the table and extended her small hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you." she said with as much courage as she could muster, earning a smile in return.

Getting up from his seat, Joel kissed his daughter's head and told her food was ready, which prompted the child to run upstairs to her room. Feeling like it was her cue to leave, (Y/N) followed suit and slung her bag on her shoulder.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? I'm not much of a chef, but I have to admit I make a mean chili." said the man, pointing at the steaming pot on the stovetop.

The smell of a homemade meal was making her mouth water, but she hadn't known them for long enough to get comfortable. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I should really get going. I have some reading to finish before morning."

The two made their way back to the front door. "Alright, then. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, yeah?"

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Miller- Joel, sorry." she corrected herself, waving him goodbye as she swiftly got into her car and began the drive back to her apartment. She hadn't even begun the job, yet (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy about her small success.

————-　❈　————-

A couple of months had passed and (Y/N) was really enjoying her new gig. Sarah turned out to be the sweetest girl the young woman had ever had the pleasure of knowing. She wasn't fussy or troublesome, was very well-mannered, oh-so-friendly and kind, and a fan of using sarcasm here and there, which seemed to be something she picked up from her father. Joel, too, was accommodating to the new addition of their little family. (Y/N) could sense, however, that he was somewhat more reserved - closed, even. It was harder to get to know her employer, but she didn't mind, these things took time.

Leaning against her car, the young woman read her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' for the 4th or 5th time. Something about it brought her great comfort, especially during the colder months. The festive season was quickly approaching and she wasn't sure if gifts would be appropriate so early-on in her employment. She had zoned out for so long, she didn't have time to register her name being called nor a pair of arms swiftly wrapping around her waist.

"Hey, kiddo." she laughed, hugging the curly-haired girl back.

She let go and stared up at her babysitter with her big round eyes. "Did daddy send you to pick me up?"

"No, I just finished classes and thought I'd swing by."

"What are you reading?"

(Y/N) turned the book to show the cover, "Pride and Prejudice. It's an old book."

"What's it about?"

"Uh- well, it's about a lot of things, but mainly it's the story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy who have to overcome their differences to end up together. Hence the title."

"That sounds kind of interesting."

"Yeah, but it takes a lot of hatred and pettiness to get there."

The little girl shook her head in disapproval, "Adults. Why do they have to complicate things?"

"Alright, wise one. Get in before you get cold."

The car ride gave them more time to bond. They sang to Sarah's favourite songs and talked about whatever was on the little genius's mind. It was a unique experience for both of them, two feminine energies collided, something each of them longed for dearly.

At home, (Y/N) spent a significant amount of time helping Sarah with her homework: a bunch of English grammar exercises, essay writing, as well as some algebra. Following their arduous work, the girls decided they deserved some fun and made creamy pasta (one of Sarah's favourites) for dinner. Whilst waiting for the patriarch to come home, they got comfortable on the couch to watch 'Mrs. Doubtfire'.

Unsure if she should speak during the movie, Sarah poked her babysitter's arm. "Do you have siblings?"

"I don't, no. Why do you ask?"

"I don't have any either. Do you ever get lonely?"

(Y/N) wasn't sure where these questions were coming from, but she decided to entertain them anyway. "I used to, growing up. Though my parents did a very good job at making sure I felt loved at home. I miss them a lot, but I'm happy here too."

There was a long pause as Sarah was visibly deep in her thoughts. "I never knew my mom," It shouldn't have shocked the young woman, she assumed Joel and his wife had separated after noting the absence of a maternal presence in their home, but it still came as a surprise. "Daddy said she had her own reasons and that they both agreed for me to live with him."

"Adults always have their own reasons for things, even if it may seem dumb. I'm sure it was a very difficult decision to make for her and that she loves you very much."

"I don't think about her often anymore. My dad can be busy, but he does a good job. He comes to every game, takes me to fairs and carnivals, helps me with school projects. He's also extra cool on vacation."

Something about her remark pulled at (Y/N)'s heart. "I see. He seems like a really great dad." The girls went right back to watching Robin Williams dance around while doing chores, as if they hadn't just touched on a thought-provoking subject.

It was almost 11pm and Joel was nowhere to be seen. Instead of letting the girl pass out on the couch, (Y/N) let her hold onto her back as she carried the sleepy child all the way to her room. Making sure all was right, she put her to bed, closed the window, turned on the night-light, then made her way towards the door.

"You're really cool," Sarah said sleepily with her eyes closed. "I hope you stay for a long time."

No compliment in the world could compare to a kid's heartfelt approval. "I hope so too, sweetie. Good night and good dreams."

Walking back downstairs, the young woman took one look around the house and decided she could pass the time cleaning up here and there. She started by tidying up the living room: folding the throws, fluffing up the pillows, putting the board games back on the bookshelf. Then she moved onto the kitchen where she took the trash out, scrubbed the surfaces clean as silently as she could, put the leftover pasta away, and washed the dishes. Satisfied with her work, she went back up to Sarah's room to leave a glass of water by her bed in case she got thirsty in the middle of the night.

In a house that was dead silent, she heard heavy footsteps. In a short panic, she grabbed a pair of scissors that were lying on the desk and crept up closer to the door. The steps were agonisingly slow and calculated. The woman felt like she was in a slasher movie. Babysitters always die first. The only indication she had of the intruder's whereabouts was from the shadow that was created by the light from the kitchen. This is what you get for not turning on every single light in a house where you're all by yourself. One of the most important rules in horror movies, she thought. The shadow approached closer and closer to the door, and just when she hoped the distance was close enough, she leapt out of the room and went straight for the stranger. Unfortunately, her blow was blocked and her body pushed up against the wall. In a blink, she realised what had happened.

"What the hell, Joel?" she whisper-shouted.

"(Y/N)? What are you still doing here?"

"Doing my job. Couldn't let Sarah stay all by herself with no indication of when you'd be back. That would be irresponsible of me."

He let go of her arms, lazily rubbing his face. "You're right, I'm sorry. I got held up and my cellphone died. I'm so exhausted, I completely forgot you were here."

"It's all good, I didn't hear you arrive either," she paused, noticing the blood running down his left hand. "Oh my God, Joel, you're bleeding!"

He looked at the wound like he hadn't even felt it until then, "Oh, this is nothin'. I had worse accidents at work."

"Still, it could get infected. Please, take a seat in the kitchen, I'll be right back."

She went straight to the bathroom to fetch the first-aid kit. It was essential to know where it was, what it had and how to use everything as someone who had to watch a small human being. She went back downstairs to start working on Joel's injury.

"I'm so sorry. I was so caught up in my own mind, I thought you were an intruder, and it was the only weapon at hand-"

"Please don't apologise. It was my bad, really. I should have announced myself," he spoke as he watched her gently clean the cut with a saline cleansing wipe. "Can't blame you for doing your best to defend yourself. Takes courage."

(Y/N) realised that upon closer inspection, her employer was quite handsome. Dark messy hair, a somewhat upkept beard, broad build, crow's feet that indicated how often he smiled, as well as nose wrinkles that indicated how often he frowned. She carefully applied medical tape to close-off the wound and went to put the kit back where it belonged. On her way down, she noticed him looking around in slight confusion.

"Did you…clean the house?"

"Oh, you know, just lightly tidied up. I'm not a fan of leaving the places I stay at messy. Kind of a habit," she noted the silence and her hands instantly became cold. "God, I'm sorry. Again. I- I didn't even ask if you were okay with me touching your belongings, I got-"

"No, you're good. You're good. Don't sweat it. It's just that," Joel chuckled at her need to be so polite after months of working together. "You didn't have to do this. I can't ask you do to things that aren't part of your job description."

"I know. And I don't mind. Really. It's not like I'm playing Cinderella day and night," she said as they shared a laugh. "My job is to take care of a kid and the environment plays a big role."

(Y/N) picked up her bag, ready to leave for the night, "See you on Monday, Joel."

He reached out to touch her shoulder, then just as quickly removed his hand as if she had burned him. "Uh- do you- are you- um," She looked at him with furrowed brows, it's almost as if he was…flustered? "What are your plans for Christmas? Or, you know, holiday season? If you celebrate anything at all-"

"I won't be able to fly out to see my family this year, so I haven't made any other plans yet. Why do you ask?"

The man scratched his neck sheepishly, only then realising how long he had kept her standing on his porch when it wasn't exactly warm outside. "Would you like to celebrate with us? Sarah would be ecstatic to have you."

Warmth blossomed in her chest at the sudden invitation. So gifts are appropriate. Noted.

"I would love to celebrate the holidays with you guys. But only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Excellent, then I'll be here."

"Great."

"Good."

They stared at each other for way too long, the nanny realised, bearing the slightest of smiles. "Well, then. Good night, Mr. Miller."

He shook his head at her teasing tactic, "Drive safe, Ms. (L/N)."

There she was again, driving back to her apartment, giggling to herself like a maniac and for what? They invited her to celebrate a holiday. People did that all the time. Office workers, family members, casual friends, new and old lovers, it was truly nothing exceptional. But to her it felt different and she couldn't tell if it was because Sarah liked her enough to want her there or if it was because it came from him. Christmas was three weeks away. Three. Weeks. Away. Gifts. She needed gifts. What would she give them? What did they like? It came to her that she didn't know them that well, which meant she had some investigating to do in the little time she had left for shopping.

————-　❈　————-

When Christmas finally came, (Y/N) simply could not contain her excitement. She thought long and hard about the presents she would give the Millers, and while they may have appeared simple, she hoped that they would be appreciated. She personally wrapped them up in brown paper and decorated them with stamps, ribbons, and tags, firmly believing in the art of gift-wrapping. Austin had yet to see snow, she didn't think it would ever happen, yet the city was nevertheless bursting with festive spirit. Various lights decorated the trees and bushes in public parks. People hosted diverse markets in the streets where they sold artisanal goods and delicious foods. (Y/N) had gone ice-skating with the Millers a couple of weeks prior. Joel was as bad as she thought he would be; Sarah, however, was a natural. They enjoyed a lively Christmas parade that same day.

After parking in front of the house that was very tastefully decorated with her help, the young woman made her way towards the door, her homemade chocolate tarte in hand, and knocked, taking a second to register a male voice she did not recognise. The door swung open to reveal a man not much older than her, wearing a plaid shirt and dark blue jeans.

Looking her up and down, the stranger gave her a smirk, "And who might you be?"

"Hands off the babysitter, Tommy!" she heard Joel yell from deep inside the house.

"Ah, the famous babysitter!" he exclaimed, opening the door further. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

It smelled of oven-roasted turkey, of cigarette smoke, and of pine from the christmas tree. She found all of them moving about the kitchen: cutting vegetables, setting the table, washing the dishes. She felt like she'd arrived a tad too late.

"Can I help with anything?" she said, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"Nah, everything's good to go," Joel replied as he scrubbed the remaining pots, "(Y/N), this is Tommy, my brother."

Said brother took her hand and placed a tender kiss on the back of it, "Very nice to meet you." Sarah couldn't hide her look of disgust if she tried.

"I didn't know Joel had a brother."

"You didn't tell her about me?" Tommy asked in exaggerated disbelief.

"Was I supposed to? Didn't know I was running a datin' agency."

"Thought that was part of the deal when we agreed to be each other's wingmen."

"Mm, don't recall us ever doing that."

"Well, we did. Spiritually. When we went to Buddy's Place? It was just around the time when Cat-" Tommy's monologue cut short with one sharp glare from Joel. (Y/N) could practically taste the tension emanating from him. Not a big fan of reminiscing the past, she noted.

"You know what, it's no problem. It's the perfect occasion to get to know each other, eh?" the younger brother flashed her a smile. They sure had impressive genes in this family.

Once the eldest Miller was done cleaning, all three adults cracked open a few cold ones to start off the evening. Tommy had the brilliant idea to teach Sarah a few card tricks, peaking their guest's interest.

"What are you teaching a 12-year-old cards for?" (Y/N) amusedly asked. Sarah seemed excited, she was one of those kids who loved to learn, it didn't matter what it was.

"First of all, every member of the Miller family knows how to play cards, we start young. And second, if not me, then who?" He made a good point. Tommy was, after all, the fun brother. "Wanna join in? I'm told I'm a great teacher."

She caught onto the subtle flirt and found herself wanting to return the energy. He was tall, he was dark, he was handsome. He smelled of cigarettes and beer with a hint of citrus notes. Not bad with kids but he wouldn't want any of his own anytime soon; very friendly, which for him also meant outgoing, ballsy, and prone to getting into trouble; charming to the point that he might seduce a few dozen women in one night; funny enough to make people like and maybe even trust him. She didn't mind flirting, but that was the extent of her intentions, and something told her Tommy Miller felt the same way.

They spent some time watching as Tommy performed the most outrageous tricks seen to man, to which his sole excuse was "I'm a bit rusty". He also tried to teach Sarah the art of cheating which, much to his disappointment and sorrow, his niece refused to take part in for moral reasons. (Y/N) noted the elder Miller's absence and excused herself from the oh-so-riveting demonstration of a disappearing card to go look for him. After searching the kitchen, his bedroom, as well as the garage, she stepped outside with a throw blanket and found him sitting on one of the patio chairs.

"What are you doing here? You'll get cold." he said, glancing at her from the side.

"I'm tougher than I look," she answered, nevermind the blanket tightly wrapped around her frame. "Came to keep you company."

"Who said I need any?" She sensed a hint of a playful tone.

"I don't know, you look awfully lonely sitting next to that empty chair." This earned her a light chuckle as she sat down. He didn't look very warm with one hand in his jacket pocket and his collar lifted up to his chin. She proceeded to awkwardly move her chair closer to his and slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, reached out to wrap the throw around both of them, thankful that it was big enough for the job.

Sensing how still and tense he was, (Y/N) felt the need to talk to lighten the mood, "So, do you always sit outside all by yourself? In the dark? And in complete silence? Brooding-"

"I get the picture, and no," he took a sip from his bottle. "Sometimes I like to sit in my car."

He was capable of humour, which was a refreshing discovery after countless weeks of being formal. She understood wanting to define clear boundaries between employer and employee, but when she was essentially tasked to bond with his child and regularly invited to family activities, the lines naturally blurred, and her curiosity intensified.

"Who's Cat?"

Joel was silent for a second, then let out a reluctant sigh, "Cat was…a girl I knew way back when I was young."

"You're talking like you're in your 50s."

"I'm 34 to be precise, but fine, back when I was younger," he said grumpily. "We dated for a bit, then we didn't. That's how it went with most women I met."

"Oh, is this a Casanova situation?"

"No, more of a 'not ready to commit to a kid' situation," The silence that followed was loud, (Y/N) didn't want to make a sound, afraid he'd realise what he was doing and shut himself off. "I was 21 when Sarah was born. She's the joy of my life, I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without her, truly. But...it was hard back then for a single dad with a newborn. Never went to college, had to take on side jobs to sustain both of us. My love life wasn't exactly a priority, and when the opportunity presented itself, they fled as soon as they heard the mention of a child."

The next question was risky, but she couldn't think of anything else, "So you haven't dated since your younger days? Not even the hot single moms in your area?"

This made Joel laugh heartily, a sound she loved to listen to, something she wanted to hear more often. "Not really. I mean I've flirted here and there, but Sarah and I are good the way we are now. She's my priority, and I want to make sure my partner's good to my kid too, you know?"

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened to Sarah's mom?" (Y/N) probed further, "Sarah told me-"

"Nothing happened. She left and that was that." The wall was back up. You pushed your luck.

Luckily for them, Sarah called for everyone to play cards. Which was then followed by board games. What they discovered that evening is that (Y/N) was either incredibly skilled at them or simply unbelievably lucky. She and Tommy got on well, making innocent physical contact here and there, high-fiving each other, sharing a lot of laughter, too much laughter for the man that sat across from them. Joel wasn't jealous, he was never jealous, but the sight didn't make him feel happy either.

After a while, the oven beeped, indicating that the turkey was ready. The four of them prepared the table with bowls of salads, bread slices, side-dishes, making space in the centre for the bird accompanied by roasted vegetables. (Y/N) joined in their prayer before they dug into their food. They shared all sorts of life stories: Tommy's time in the army, the most frustrating clients Joel had ever had, more embarrassing anecdotes from Sarah's childhood, funny and dramatic events that occurred while (Y/N) was on vacation. The young woman then brought out the tarte she'd made for the occasion, much to everyone's delight. It was as silky as she hoped it would be, tasting notes of coffee in her chocolate dessert covered in walnut crumbs. The ambience was relaxing, they sat under the dim light of the scented candles dispersed throughout the kitchen, bathing in the sounds of laughter and utensils scraping against the food on their plates.

When all was devoured, they moved the party back to the living room and Tommy decided it was time for presents. Sarah received hers first, which turned out to be a collection of CDs of her favourite musicians from Tommy and a skateboard she'd wanted for a long time from her dad. She hugged each of them very tightly, already excited to put both of her new belongings to use. Then it was Joel's turn to unwrap a brand new wallet gifted by his brother (apparently, he had complained about his old one he owned for more than a decade) and a second-hand guitar from Sarah that she acquired from a friend's cousin then paid for a cleaning by a professional with her own pocket-money (with a little help from uncle Tommy). Tommy received a steel lighter from Joel, who claimed the custom engraving – a hand-drawn cowboy hat on the front and T. Miller on the bottom – was Sarah’s touch. Just when everyone thought they were done, (Y/N) cleared her throat, calling for their attention, whilst dragging her bag closer to where she sat on the floor.

“I brought gifts of my own.” She declared and pulled out a box and gave it to Tommy, whom she'd met only hours ago. “I’m sorry, I took this just in case someone else would be here, but I wish I had gotten to know you sooner to customise the present to your taste- “

“Oh my sweet God,” he muttered, staring at the large crystal bottle of whiskey. “This is one of the fanciest kind around, it ain’t fuckin’ cheap either!”

“You’re lucky Tommy here is a whiskey connoisseur.” Joel said from his laid-back position on the couch.

The younger brother engulfed her in a warm hug soon after, “You got my taste just right, sweetheart, thank you.”

The room was silent as she extended a purple envelope to Sarah, who sat across from her. It didn’t seem all too exciting. The kid in question opened the envelope, eyeing her babysitter, who herself seemed a bit nervous. The silence in the room was suddenly broken as the 12-year-old squealed her hardest squeal, forcing both Millers to cover their ears.

“It’s two VIP tickets to the Halican Drops concert in Houston next year!” she exclaimed, launching herself at the now grinning woman. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“How’d you get those? I thought they were sold out.” her father asked, clearly having gone through the struggle of standing in long queues to make his daughter happy.

It was difficult to breathe with a prepubescent child sitting in your lap as she held you in a death-grip. “I have an old friend who happens to work at the venue.” she replied, accepting the kiss on the cheek from Sarah who sat back on the ground, practically buzzing as she stared at the pieces of paper in her hands.

Lastly, (Y/N) got up to stand in front of Joel as he looked up at the object she extended in complete surprise.

“You really didn’t have to- “

“Just open it.”

So he did. What he found inside was a Prussian blue knit scarf.

“I noticed you never wear one, and it’s pretty chilly out, so I figured I’d knit you one myself. Finished it just in time a couple of days ago. The color looks flattering on you.” she explained, blushing deeper and deeper with every word. She failed to notice that he, too, was heating up.

“Well, I’ll be damned. This woman can bake, she can knit, she’s smart, and she plays cards like a pro. I mean what can’t you do?” And while she knew Tommy was teasing, she couldn’t help but redden even more.

“I’m pretty proud of my mixing skills,” she added, making him pause with a face that read ‘no way’. “I’m a bartender on the weekends.”

She had barely finished her sentence when she yelped as Tommy scooped her up and over his shoulder. “That’s it! I’m taking this one with me. It was nice to see ya, big brother!”

(Y/N) squealed and wiggled around as much as she could to try to get him to let her down whilst Sarah did her best to save her friend by clinging to one of her uncle’s legs in protest. It was one chaotic scene unfolding in front of Joel, who had not moved from his seat, still staring at the scarf in his hands as he ran his thumb over the soft wool.

After all that excitement, the household members spent a few more hours watching ‘Home Alone 2’ and ‘Jingle All the Way’, DVDs Joel had bought earlier that week. During the viewing, he caught himself glancing at the woman curled up against the arm rest less than a few feet away from him. She remained completely oblivious, amused by the tomfoolery happening on-screen. He left the room for a moment to dispose of his empty bottle in the kitchen. On the short way there, he realised he was slightly tipsy. While he was rummaging through the drawers, he heard someone come up behind him.

“Looking for this?” he turned around to see (Y/N) holding up the bottle-opener. She walked up to the counter and opened the bottle in his hand, brushing her cold fingers against his warm ones in the process.

“You’re cold.” he commented bluntly.

“Yeah, my extremities get cold easily. That’s why I walk around in gloves and thick socks as soon as the temperature starts dropping.”

She threw away her own empty bottle and swiftly turned around to walk back into the living room, when she felt his hand wrap around her wrist ever so gently.

“I didn’t get to thank you back there. You know, for the present?” he spoke softly, giving her a rare smile. “It was real nice of you.”

She noticed the way his pupils were slightly wider than usual and his stance that seemed to swing back-and-forth ever so subtly. “Joel, are you…are you drunk?”

“It takes a lot more than a few bottles of IPA to get me there. I’m just fine.” he whispered, for what reason she wasn’t sure, then unexpectedly walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t leave her to contemplate her next actions for too long because he emerged not even a minute later, holding his right hand behind his back.

They found themselves standing closer than they should have, but neither of them seemed to care as Joel revealed the mystery object.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

It was the most beautiful edition of ‘Jane Eyre’ she had ever laid her eyes on. Red leather hardback with golden accents all over it, including the fore-edges, it looked like something out of a royal library.

“How did you know?” her question was vague, but she knew he knew what she meant.

“Sarah told me about the books that you like, said you haven’t read this one in a long time.”

Her warm embrace came to him as a surprise, but in the state of mind he was in, not only did he accept it, but it felt good, it felt right to hug her back.

“It happens to be one of my favourites, so thank you. Really. For all of the things you’ve done for me so far.”

The two held onto each other for longer than needed until Tommy’s call brought them back to reality. The other Miller eyed the returning pair suspiciously as they took their respective places on the couch and went back to watching the movie in comfortable silence. Only he noticed the red book in her possession and fought hard to stop himself from smiling.

Later that night, after all the dishes had been washed, the leftovers put away, and the only child put to bed, Tommy reluctantly sat in the back of the cab Joel had called for him. I am not fetching my brother from a jail cell on Christmas Day, he'd told him. When he walked back into his home, he saw a sleeping figure on the couch, covered by one of the throws.

He went into his bedroom and took no more than 10 minutes to replace all of his linen with fresh ones from the closet in the hallway. He wasn’t going to let his guest sleep on a couch, especially not under a row of windows or next to the entrance door. Carefully picking her up, and she was one deep sleeper, he made his way back to his bed to lay her down on the new sheets.

My extremities get cold easily.

He changed his usual blanket for a thicker one then grabbed a pillow and went to make his bed downstairs. He picked up the scarf lying on the coffee table once more and unfolded it entirely, only then noticing the tiny initials embroidered in grey into one of the ends – J.M. Upon an even closer inspection, he realised it smelled of vanilla and flowers.

————-　❈　————-

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

tags: @elliaze @joeldjarin

[barksenji]

Kidkiller modern/real life (?) AU: College or something, idk.

Holy, this is my first time writing on Tumblr lol. This was originally in Spanish but I decided to translate it because it's cute. Anything that doesn't make sense is there for narrative purposes. Also, this is how college works in my country (Venezuela), I have absolutely no idea how it works in the US much less other countries. Lol. Anyways. Enjoy.

Sitting in the bleachers of the gym, the two guys watched as the ball skidded across the feet of the students playing football. The game, meant to be a simple friendly match, had devolved into what resembled a WWE brawl, complete with the loud thuds of bodies hitting the ground.

"I'm way better at sports than these losers," the redhead boasted, his thick Scottish accent sharp with arrogance.

"I know, Kid," replied the blonde, equally as Scottish, if not more.

"I'd have my team winning every damn game."

"I know, Kid."

"I'm gonna be the best football player in the world."

"...You're studying robotics engineering."

"That's beside the point, Killer."

"I know, Kid."

Both men had classes later in the day and lived quite far from the university, often finding themselves with long stretches of idle time between lectures. Their days sometimes began with a class at 7 AM, followed by hours of nothing until their next class at 4 PM. Rather than wander aimlessly around campus or venture out for errands, they found amusement in watching the medical students attempt to play sports, often failing miserably. Or more specifically, they enjoyed watching Law making a fool of himself.

The funniest part? It was an elective. He chose it himself.

"Hey! Trafalgar! Keep eating dirt like that, maybe it'll improve your grades!” Kid mocked.

“FUCK YOU!” Law shouted back, red-faced and indignant.

Kid threw his head back in laughter, oblivious to the enchanted eyes fixed on him. Killer watched Kid’s antics, a soft smile playing at his lips. He couldn't have asked for a better companion. Having Kid by his side made him feel incredibly fortunate.

“What are you staring at, bozo?” Kid asked, breaking Killer’s reverie.

“Nothin',” Killer replied, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness despite his attempt to sound nonchalant.

“Wish I could see behind that motorcycle helmet to know just how much you're judging me.”

“I'm not judging you! I'm just... contemplating.”

For a moment, silence hung between them.

“Uh-huh.” Kid arched an eyebrow, then laughed again.

Killer blushed beneath his helmet, trying to hide his embarrassment. They were bros, and such feelings were out of place.

“So, what's your next class?”

“Confectionery and ice cream,” Killer answered.

“Confectionery and ice cream?! Is that a real class?”

“Well, I am studying gastronomy.”

“Do you have a super hard exam on how to make a sandwich? Like 'Oh no! I failed my toast exam! I'm toasted!' Haha, get it? Toasted... because of toast."

"You're so hilarious, Kid,” Killer said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But they actually teach you how to design amazing products using sugar, icing, chocolate, and other ingredients. You know, the kind of things I cook for you that you love? Like that Dundee cake you ate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?"

"Ok, you should've led with that. Never stop making those, they’re delicious,” Kid said, practically drooling at the memory. “Nothing beats the pasta though."

"I agree, nothing beats the pasta..."

They both fell silent, lost in thoughts of food, debating whether their lunch money should be spent on actual lunch or saved for a taxi. No, they did not have a car. No, they didn't have money for one.

"So... what's your next class?" Killer asked, snapping them both out of their pasta-induced coma.

"Physical fundamentals of mechanics.”

"...Confectionery and ice cream does sound kinda funny next to that,” Killer admitted. “What do you even learn there?”

"Well, we study kinematics, point dynamics, work, power, mechanical energy, that kind of stuff." He was still baffled by the fact that Kid could comprehend all that.

"Yeah, I'm sticking to the ice cream," Killer laughed, but as soon as he noticed, he quickly covered his mouth over his helmet. "Ahem. Sorry about that. Uh—when did you say that class was?"

Kid frowned, noticing Killer's reaction to his own laugh. Killer had something called "PBA," or something along those lines; he didn't know—he wasn't that smart. What he did know was that it caused uncontrollable bursts of laughter in inappropriate situations. It had started after a brain injury from a mishap they got into together. Killer was self-conscious about it; he was already insecure before, but after the accident, he grew absolutely sick of it, even when it was genuine. Kid felt guilty; if he hadn't dragged him into that, he would feel okay. First, he lost his arm to stunt riding, giving Killer the biggest scare of his life, and now this—

"Uh...Kid?"

"Oh yeah, yeah," Kid snapped back to reality. "It’s at 3 PM."

"Kid."

"Yeah?"

"It's 2:56."

"Fuck, you're right!” Kid said, scrambling to gather his things. “Sorry, dude, don't want to leave you here all alone but—y'know."

"Yeah, no worries. I have to get to class soon anyway," Killer reassured him. "Plus, you'll need to study hard if you want to make that giant metal arm you showed me."

Kid paused, surprised that Killer remembered. A blush crept up his cheeks, followed by a wide grin. "Hell yeah, Kil! I will! I'll make you some sick cooking utensils too. Like—knives that spin like chainsaws."

"Why would I need knives that spin like chainsaws?"

"Because they'd look cool. And they'd be faster. Plus, there's the risk of adding a finger to the menu, which is metal."

Killer let out a soft giggle and a sigh. "God, I love you, Kid,” he muttered under his breath.

“HUH?!” Kid turned as he walked away, cocking his head.

“I said you'll miss your class, Kid!" Killer corrected himself, blushing furiously.

Kid raised an eyebrow. "...Love you too, bro, I guess," he responded with a smirk, then dashed off.

Fuck.

[asturniolos]

you too - matt s.

chapter 2 ; you going up?

chapter 1

chapter 3

chapter 4

warnings - just slight swearing !

9:27am

".. and be prepared for friday's lecture; your study on creative expression in poetry. your completed assignments for this will be expected.."

my professor's voice beaming through the lecture hall is muffled by the sound of bolder feelings by the ivy playing in my airpods as i stand up from my seat, grab my bag, and neatly place my things in it. i let out an exhausted sigh and make my way out of the lecture hall, followed by a few other students heading to various other facilities. i glance out of the huge windows of the building i'm in and feel my mood instantly improve at the sight of the heavy rainfall hitting the concrete like bullets. i love winter.

as i approach the stairs leading to the bottom floor of the university, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

annie!🧸 : u ready to be picked up? i'm out front!!

my eyes light up as i remember the coffee date annie and i had planned.

i unlock my phone as i walk and begin typing my response when suddenly i feel a hard shove to my side. my bag slips off my arm and lands at my feet, leaving my textbooks and macbook scattered on the floor in front of me.

i hear a gasp followed by a warm, masculine voice, "holy shit i'm so sorry- are you alright?"

i go to pause my music but realise it has already stopped playing. my jaw drops as i look at the ground and see my phone. my shattered phone.

"what the hell? watch where you're walking!"

i step forward and start gathering my things off the floor and placing them back into my bag, cheeks burning red with anger and embarrassment. i feel a hand place itself on my shoulder.

"fuck i'm so sorry. here, let me help you."

"no, it's fine i've got it.", i reply, shrugging the hand off of me in annoyance.

regardless, the boy bends down and begins grabbing my notebook and pencil case which landed next to him. he passes them to me, apologising a few more times.

"i'm so sorry about your phone. i promise i'll pay to get it fixed, just give me your number and i'll sort it out. is that alright?"

i so desperately want to yell at him for running into me, but his considerate offer convinces me otherwise. i pull my bag back over my shoulder and tuck my thick hair behind my ears. glancing up at him and meeting his eyes for the first time, his slightly wavy brown hair falls perfectly as he brings a hand up to his face and pushes it out of his eyes. he scratches the back of his head while waiting for a response from me.

"um.. yeah that's fine. thanks."

i grab a pen from my bag and tear a piece of paper from my notebook to write my phone number down. i pass the paper to him when i'm finished and watch him read it, fold it in half, and place it in the front pocket of his blue hoodie. i take a deep breath in to calm my nerves and can't help but notice the strong scent of aftershave coming from him. i glance back up at his freshly-shaved face and feel my cheeks glow pink. i redirect my eyes to the floor in an attempt at distracting myself from how attractive he is all of a sudden.

"you going up?", he asks, motioning to the stairs above us.

"down, actually.", i reply.

"you're blushing."

"i am?"

"mhm."

he chuckles.

"let me carry your bag for you.", he asks, the sentence coming across more as a statement than a question.

"it's fine really, you don't have to-"

he cuts me off by reaching for my shoulder and taking my bag from me.

"it's the least i can do."

he grins. i think about taking the bag back from him and walking to annie's car alone but figure it would give me an excuse to walk with him for another few minutes. as we walk, i can't help but stare at the veins covering his hands, completely losing track of the conversation. before i know it he's taking my bag off of his shoulder and handing it to me at the doorway.

"i'll give you a call when my lectures over. should be about an hour or two.", he states, taking his phone out of his pocket and checking the time.

"what are you studying?", i ask.

"filmmaking. what about you?", he replies.

filmmaking. oh my god. could he be the guy annie was telling me about?

"english literature."

"oh so like.. shakespeare and shit?"

i lightly chuckle at his stupid response, trying to come up with another question to find out more about him.

"yeah, i guess you could say that. is this your first year here?"

if he says yes i swear-

"yeah actually, i just moved here from boston with my brothers."

i pause.

"brothers?"

"yeah. i'm a triplet."

no. way.

"my names matt.", he continues, "what's yours?"

"y/n. nice to meet you, matt."

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 48: Two Degrees of Separation - Comparing notes with Sasuke and Shingen leads to more questions about the multiverse.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

“I brought these in from the car.” Sasuke slid open the door to the bedroom wide enough to pass a few shopping bags through.

“You can come in. We’re both decent.” I took the bags, noting one of them was from a high-end lingerie store. That… had the possibility of going very very wrong, in a number of ways. I dropped the bags on the foot of the bed, as Sasuke settled in a chair by the window. “You let Shingen loose in a lingerie store?”

There was a rather embarrassed cough from the ninja by the window. He looked away from us.

“I was fine. He’s the one who can’t be trusted around women’s underclothes. I may be scarred for life.” Shingen shot a glare at Sasuke, who seemed to take great interest in the parking lot outside.

“I thought it was a mannequin and not a live model,” Sasuke muttered.

“Nope. Don’t need any more details there.” Instead, I dove into the bags, finding a couple pairs of jeans, some t-shirts… “Oooh, Black Widow, nice.”

“Figured Natasha Romanov would be your jam.” Sasuke sounded more confident now that we’d left the subject of underwear.

“Oh yeah… and I’ve got about seven years of MCU to catch up on. And I don’t know how many seasons of Game of Thrones.” It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that I’d finally learn how some of these continuing stories ended.

Shingen and Sasuke looked at each other, then Sasuke shook his head. “Um… about the Game of Thrones conclusion… you might actually find the story of my adventures in ladies lingerie categorically less traumatic.”

Huh. I returned my attention to the bags and pulled out a hoodie! I hugged it to me. It was red, not the blue-grey shade of the one that I had been wearing on the day I had initially gone through the wormhole, but it was soft and warm and felt like home in a way that no other article of clothing had. “How did you know?” I slipped it on and zipped it up.

There was a tug on the hood. Shingen flipped it up over my head. “Red hood. The better to see you with.”

“Alright, Sasuke, are you ready for all the wormhole weirdness I need to tell you about?” The three of us had relocated to the living area of the hotel suite to eat lunch that Sasuke had picked up from one of the hotel’s onsite restaurants. He’d asked me if I wanted pizza, but until I was sure how my digestive system would readjust to modern food, I’d decided to stick with soba noodles and a light soup. I was wearing my first pair of jeans in nearly seven (or was it eight now?) years, and they fit surprisingly well (Shingen: “I know every inch of your body, it wasn’t difficult”).

“Before we debrief, I have something else for you.” Sasuke handed me a sealed manila envelope. He didn’t say anything else, so I went ahead and opened it, pulling out identification papers, including a passport as well as a bank card. The accompanying account information made me do a double, then a triple take to make sure I was reading the amount correctly.

“Sasuke, do you have previously unrevealed connections with the Yakuza?” I took a second look at the passport. Yes that was definitely me in the picture – it looked like my old student ID photo, had been “aged up” slightly. The birthday was correct as well. Someone clearly had skills.

“No. Not that I am aware of. This came from a Professor I know.” Sasuke glanced over my shoulder to look at the paperwork. “Holy mother forking shirtballs.”

“From your advisor? The one who arranged my hospital stay?” Shingen examined the passport. “Nice picture… but not as nice as the real thing.”

“No. Different professor. My advisor in Kyoto who helped get you into the University Hospital is Professor Sakaki. These – as well as Shingen’s papers and bank account … which did not have nearly this many zeros – came from a friend of my parents. I’m certain they have nothing to do with the Yakuza.” He laughed off the idea. “Actually, their friend, Professor Yamaoka was the man who gave the initial idea that led me to study wormholes and their relationship to temporal anomalies.”

Wait…what? Who?

“Professor Yamaoka.” I said it slowly, to confirm I had heard that correctly.

Aki, you have some ‘splaining to do.

“Yes.” Sasuke took the envelope and folded it up. There was a rattling noise within. “There appears to be something else inside.” He shook it. “Given the amount of money in your account, I can only surmise it’s a key to a safety deposit box that contains the Holy Grail.”

“The what?” Shingen apparently hadn’t worked his way up to European literature – or the Monty Python film (the latter was something I would make sure to correct before we went back to the Sengoku era).

“No.” I already knew what was rattling around in that envelope. “It will be a shogi piece. A lance… or maybe a knight.” It had better not be a pawn after all he’d put me through. I turned the envelope upside down and dumped the item onto the coffee table. It landed with a clink, spun a few times, and landed tokin side up.

The knight.

Sasuke blinked at me a few times. “How did you know?”

“I’ve been working for Yamaoka Akihira for the past seven years. Shogi is his… calling card.” I sank back into the sofa cushion. On the day he’d left me with Shingen, he’d kept his face in the shadows. Later, when I’d thought about it, I’d figured that he’d been trying to keep Shingen from seeing his face… but no… he’d been hiding from Sasuke.

A lot of explaining.

“Your old master… the man in the woods. He’s the same?” At my nod, Shingen turned to Sasuke. “You said this man is a friend of your parents?” Shingen quickly put things together, and I was sure he could tell this information had unsettled me.

“Yes… I mean, they aren’t besties, but I know he’s consulted them on history.” He picked up the tile and examined it. It was a modern tile, made out of some kind of tempered porcelain, and not one of the wooden ones we’d used when we played at The Mountain. “They might, possibly have some old photos of him that I could try to get my hands on.”

“Anything they have would be terrific. I feel like five mysteries just got solved, but five times that many new mysteries appeared.” Popping in and out of time would explain Aki’s many disappearing acts. But why had he never told me he was a fellow time traveler? Why had he never sent me home? And what was he doing in the Sengoku era to begin with? ‘Putting things on the right path’ seemed a lot more ominous now that I knew he was from the future. “Can they scan what they have and upload it to the cloud?”

Sasuke shook his head. “They’re mysteriously attached to paper. The last time I tried to talk my father through attaching a file, he emailed me his entire hard drive and crashed my laptop.”

I put the questions about Aki aside for the moment. Possibly Sasuke and Shingen, once I told them about my detour into another timeline, might be able to help put the pieces together when it came to Aki’s involvement. “Sasuke, remember when you said you thought Togakushi might lead to a different timeline than this?”

“Theoretically, yes, though I suppose since you made it here, that must not have been the case.” He was typing up notes on a tablet faster than I’d ever seen anyone type before. He glanced up and caught the expression on my face. “Ninja fingertips. I didn’t used to be able to type this fast.”

I led him back to the topic. “Yeah, about that. My trip through the wormhole was not like the original trip. I felt like I sort of… well, stuck.” And even though I was trying to be so totally blasé, like, ‘oh yeah, I got trapped in a temporal anomaly, NBD,’ I could feel my lungs tighten at the memory of the feeling of that fog sifting through my body. Shingen put his hand on my shoulder and gave me an encouraging squeeze. Yeah… he could tell I was upset.

“Given that the passage of months here and according to Yuki, in the Sengoku, was the same, you may actually have been stuck in there a year.” Right, Sasuke had gone back and for the between here and the Sengoku while I was missing. “But you didn’t experience that physically – or that wound on your arm would have healed completely – and you’d have starved to death.”

“Thanks Sasuke.” That time I did shudder. And the mental experience had been unsettling enough without throwing in starvation. “When I did come out of the wormhole, I was told I was in the wrong timeline.”

Sasuke stopped typing. He looked like he was trying not to bounce up and down on the couch. “Do you know what this means?” He hurried on before either of us could respond. “Proof that the timelines are connected to a multiverse. Who told you that you were in the wrong timeline?”

“You did.”

“I did? I did! That is… that is frakking awesome!” He pumped his fist, then bent over his tablet and did that supersonic speed typing again. “What did I say?”

Shingen and I looked at each other, exchanged a silent mental shrug, then back at Sasuke.

“You… or I guess technically Sasuke Mach 2, looked surprised to see me, and I asked you where Shingen was, and that’s when you – he said I was in the wrong timeline.” While Sasuke seemed to be having his nerdgasm, I glanced at Shingen to see how he took that. Aside from holding me even tighter, he appeared to be following along fairly well.

Sasuke continued to fire questions at me faster than I could process them. “Were you still at the Togakushi shrine? Were you in present time or the future of that time? What was I wearing? Did I have any cool tech? Did anything unusual happen before you got stuck?”

“Yes. Present, as far as I could tell. A parka. A cell phone – I think it was a cell phone. And…” Right before I got stuck Iekane had pushed me and told me… wait, before that. In my head, I rewound things back to when I was in the tree. “Shingen, have you ever heard the phrase don’t bring a knife to a gun fight?”

He pondered for a moment. “No. However it makes sense.”

I turned to Sasuke who was already typing into his tablet. “Yes, but not sure… ah. The Untouchables. 1987.”

“I’m pretty sure Iekane was already familiar with wormholes… and has been to the present before… in fact… he said… ‘I came here with him’ … him being Aki. I thought he meant he was with Aki before Aki based himself on the Mountain. But he could have meant that he came from this time with Aki.” Before Sasuke could ask more questions, I told my story from the moment Yuki and I had spotted Iekane. “Iekane looked happy to have gotten into the wormhole. If what Sasuke Mach 2 told me is true, maybe Iekane is the one who is messing up the timelines.”

“It wasn’t this Sasuke who talked to me at the flood site?” Shingen stared at Sasuke, as if he were trying to determine what was different about the other version of him. “I do remember thinking something was strange about you, but after all that happened, I’d put it out of my head once he said a child had fallen into the water.”

Pushed. The child was pushed. The boy… what was his name? His father had said it, hadn’t he? I tried to put myself back into that moment, but my thoughts were interrupted by Sasuke.

“Huh. I wonder how I travelled there without a wormhole… no wait, you said I told you that getting back here was ‘lateral jump’.” Sasuke turned his tablet into a sketch pad and began drawing some kind of schematic. “That would mean we could jump between different points in the multiverse, and-”

“Sasuke!” He looked up me, started by my tone. “You told me not to let you investigate. It sounded like getting me here stabilized this timeline. Maybe we should do as little interfering as possible.” For my part, once I was back in the Sengoku, I was going to stay as far from the wormhole nodes as possible.

“Agreed, Devil.” Shingen pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “The wormhole stole you from me once. I do not intend to let it happen again.”

“Investigating is not interfering.” Sasuke pointed out.

“Sasuke. I know you. You wouldn’t be able to resist poking around in alternate timelines… but, from what I can tell from the conversation I overheard,” I decided not to mention that I was pretty sure Sasuke Mach 2 had been talking with Katsuko Mach 2, “there’s a timeline where Kenshin is running around modern Toyko, causing all sorts of mayhem.”

Both Shingen and Sasuke were silent at that.

In fact, Sasuke literally turned pale.

Sasuke erased the schematic he’d begun to sketch on his tablet. “New plan. We stick to this timeline, and only use the wormhole to go back to the Sengoku era when it reopens – which should be in about three months.”

“That sounds like an excellent strategy,” Shingen said.

@bestbryn

[greenlikethesea]

oooh I'm just a tiny little baby trans I'm not even seriously thinking about transitionning yet, but if I ever went on t my singing would be a pretty big concern for me tbh, would you happen to have any kind of resource on the topic by any chance?

I've never even tried to googl- I mean to duckduckgo it so far, so no pressure at all if you don't, I could just not be lazy and try to look it up myself lol

i actually do not have any formal resources and have been sort of diy-ing the whole deal! i am a semi-trained singer, so that certainly helps, but here are a few things that have helped me:

if you are a driver, sing along to your favorite songs in the car. pick a singer that has a wide vocal range -- i would aim for a tenor or a mezzo soprano. sing from your gut and chest and try and keep your singing away from your throat, which will cause straining and nodes.

if you're a college student, chances are your university has practice rooms for music students. rent out time in one of these and don't worry about singing -- everyone there is practicing some form of music anyway. the key is not to be around other people so you can just concentrate on your practice.

here's the thing that's key -- if your voice cracks, roll with it. don't be embarrassed, don't shy away from it, just keep singing.

and sing every day! sing in the shower, sing to yourself, keep your voice active and you'll keep it!

i wish you the best of luck, my young friend, and if transition ends up being the right move for you, i know that you'll be able to sing loud and proud. i love you!

[jerzwriter]

44, 49, 6 and 7 please from the OH asks <3

I am sooooo sorry for being like 3 months late on these! lol and once again, thank you for these wonderful questions, Mads! From this list.

44. An embarrassing secret from their past that will definitely haunt them sometime later?

It's nothing too dreadful. I included this in Delaying the Inevitable, but I love it so much it's also in my HC. Kaycee/Casey did not come from an affluent background, and getting through college/med school was a struggle. In addition to maintaining good grades and volunteering, they had to work, and one of the jobs was pretty embarrassing.

She went to New York University for undergrad and one of her jobs was working at a car wash where employees dressed as Broadway characters and dance/sang while working. She was Little Orphan Annie, and no, she cannot sing very well. lol

In Tobias/Casey land, when he found out, she started with, "I worked at a carwash..." and he jumped in "Bikini and heels?" she was like, "NO!" and I think he may have been a little disappointed. lol

49. (For Ethan-romancers) -> How was it for them to be "out" in public? Former boss/employee relationships are tough to handle, despite now being colleagues and working side by side. And with Ethan being a public figure himself, it is likely things might go sour. (Bonus: If your character is male/non-binary, how do they, as partners, handle public homophobia, if any?)

Well, in Tobias/Casey land, Casey did have a relationship with Ethan during her intern year, it ended after he took off to the Amazon. But their relationship was never public, so while they dealt with whispers and gossip (most of which they ignored), they didn't really have to deal with this.

It was more of an issue for Ethan/Kaycee, but in my HC, they went public after the chemical attack, which nearly ended her life. Traumatic events like that have a way of opening our eyes, hearts, and minds, not only to what we want but also to what we're willing to allow to impact our mental and emotional health.

I believe there were conversations with HR and some adjustments made in reporting structures. There was bound to be gossips, and there were bound to be those who downplayed Kaycee's achievements (assuming "that's why"), and some may have looked down on Ethan a bit, too. But their thought process was... who cares. Those who mattered at Edenbrook were supportive, and they were not wasting time on those who didn't.

Kaycee knew her record as a student and a resident spoke for itself. And, in time, even some naysayers had to admit she was the real deal. Her thought process was that institutional misogyny would have led to many having these thoughts even if she and Ethan were not involved. Being a pretty, young, blonde woman, she was often not taken seriously in the medical field and had to work twice as hard to prove herself. After facing death, neither of them was going to allow small-minded people to steal what they shared from them.

6. Suppose your MC is dealing with a really tough case and would have to break the News to the patient. How would they deal with it? Will they offer a shred of hope or will they be blatant in the severity of the case?

I answered that one here. :)

7. Favourite snack/beverage to munch/drink on while doing rounds or lounging?

If she's attempting to be healthy, it would be infused iced green tea. For a snack, hummus and fresh vegetables or yogurt. Now, while she tries to stick to this, she often falls back on less healthy options.

Drink? Tea, coffee or sometimes hot chocolate. Snacks: CARBS. Bagels, donuts, cookies - yep - not good for her, but she does love them.

Thanks so much for the asks and for your patience, Mads!

[mostafafamily]

https://gofund.me/e36f05ca

Help mostafa Ahmad family survive the war in Gaza

Hello, kind and supportive friends

My name is mostafa Ahmad

A young Palestinian man living in Gaza

Bachelor's degree student in Accounting

For the first time, I had to make a donation link due to the harsh conditions we are going through in Gaza. I do not wish anyone to be in this embarrassing situation, but anyone in my place would do the same to save their family’s lives from the war in Gaza.

We were living a happy life before the war destroyed our homes, our work, our universities, our schools, and our future!

The story began on October 7. It was the worst day in my life. Within days of the start of the war, our area, “the northern Gaza Strip area,” became a dangerous area and a combat zone, and we were forced to flee from our home to the Deir al-Balah camp area, “the southern Gaza Strip area,” where we spent about 200 days. We were sleeping with more than 50 people in a goods warehouse. We were hearing the sounds of explosions, seeing missiles and fire, and warplanes and drones flying over our heads. We were finding it difficult to sleep due to the intensity of fear and the intensity of the heat. There were a lot of mosquitoes in the place, and there was a shortage of foodstuffs: flour, rice. Water, meat... Prices were very high, and we went through very difficult days. Every person ate half a loaf of bread a day just to satisfy hunger, and I lost more than 17 kilograms due to lack of food

On November 11, we received bad news about our family business. The main warehouse in northern Gaza was bombed and completely burned, along with 3 of the family’s cars. We lost all our goods, money, and work.

All family members are in a narrow room measuring 3 meters * 3 metres, where we suffer from cold, lack of food and clean water. We have been exposed to diseases due to poor sanitation.

Shortly after that, the Vandals invaded our neighborhood and blew up and destroyed the building in which our main warehouse was located. They entered our house, destroyed the furniture, broke all our possessions, and tore our clothes. They left the house open and the thieves stole the rest of our possessions, clothes, and money.

Hence, we lost hope for life in Gaza because we lost our work, our home, and our educational future. We did not have any money left to travel and complete our studies outside Gaza. Asking for help is not an easy matter at all, but we have no choice but to turn to you and ask for your help in escaping this tragic life. Your support can save our lives from death and will help us complete our studies. We are very grateful for any assistance that can be provided to my family.

Here is some information about my family. We are 10. The father is “Mohamed.” The mother is “Iman.” I have a married brother named “Wasim,” who is married to “Doaa.” They have two daughters, and my sisters are “Anas, Ahmed, Zein, Farah, and Yasmine.”

The purpose of this donation campaign is to evacuate my family through the Rafah/Egypt crossing, which currently requires an Egyptian coordination fee of $5,000 per person to reach Egypt.

This is our only chance to survive and I am shamefully asking for your help now more than ever.

[easierreadthandone4711]

Rainy Days

I love when the weather matches the vibe.

Last night was a quiet and humbling evening. I've been studying in attempts to learn a new skill set and where I had once felt confident, felt ripped from under me. You know nothing Jon Snow.

Personally - humiliating.

What a strong emotion to come from something that nobody is actually aware of. Why would I feel humiliated? Typically, humiliation would occur in a more public setting but just because that is more common, does not mean the other doesn't exist. With social anxiety already being a factor - you can imagine how annoying this is to feel humiliated...by myself. So - I began to think about the word humiliated. I read once that you should consider the words you use to describe your feelings because more so than you would think, its not the right word. I broke down the word humiliation because I must be using the wrong word.

Humiliated, made to feel a painful loss of pride, self-respect, or dignity; deeply embarrassed or put to shame.

At first glance I think, that's silly. Wrong word. Clearly.

-----

Typically, my evenings are relatively lively. My work shift ends at 2000, not super late but late and if you know how that goes then you understand how much there is to do before bed, despite it being "bedtime". For example, Tuesday nights I have an online class AT 2000. I am jumping in while I am clocking out and walking to my car. Tuning in on my drive and doing my best to stay focused as I get out of my uniform, settled in. Sounds simple enough but I am also a mom. Moms out there know, you don't actually get that time to decompress when you come in, right? The greetings start at the door, sometimes accompanied by questions or requests as if you didn't just get home. Having yet to reach my bedroom - dinner is usually the next topic. Once decisions are made and I make it into my room to really settle into class, the first little bird comes in to go through their day events, then the second and always the third. Sometimes they just come in to see how my day was, which I'm grateful they even think twice about me like that. Yes, I have let them know I'm in class, no this does not deter them and damnit when it comes down to it they're a world of more importance than any class to me. So I listen. Also, I am stupid confident about the class and have yet to not understand the lesson so I'm Gucci. Then we eat, watch something together and hang out until I can't keep my eyes open any longer.

However - yesterday was not a typical Tuesday.

If you've read this far and are expecting a grand finale then let me stop you right here. This ends so anticlimactically I almost feel guilty writing about it. Also, I'm going to keep writing. Sorry not sorry.

Last night at work there was a delay which caused the schedule to shift a bit. Not too horribly, as I was still able to chime into class to at least listen. It was then that I first noticed how quiet my phone was being. Typically, when I'm in my class I have a few friends who will start messaging a bit more, either because they're off work or they know I am but not this time. I took it as a mini gift from the universe, grateful for the opportunity to just focus on the class. On the drive, totally following the class because duh, I already know this. My brain must've relaxed a bit too much. I got home and was welcomed by the grankittens. No little birds, no dinner talk. I received hellos but with no questions or requests I made my way to my room, excited and eager that I might actually get to focus. I quickly get settled in and a little bird shows up. No big deal, I already know the stuff they're talking about. She didn't stay long, gave a little recap and left. Refocus to my class - I am lost. They're throwing a term around that I've never heard and it throws me off completely. I wanted to ask for clarification but for all I know, they literally just explained it and I missed it. I don't want to annoy the educator or the other students so I sat in silence for the rest of the class, hoping to figure out what they're talking about on my own. Class ended and there I am, sitting in silence in my room. No little birds, no texts, no tv, no music or audiobook, just myself and my thoughts.

How on earth did I have all this opportunity for class tonight and this be the night I feel so lost? You know who prevented me from understanding tonight's class? Myself. I've been overly confident, laxed and unfocused.

Humiliated.

We are our own worst critics and I did refrain from beating myself up too harshly but there was a loss of pride, absolutely my self respect and was ashamed. I had to really sit in this when everything was silent. You know, nights are the hardest when you're going through it and I had zero distractions.

Growth moment: There is no point in tearing myself apart over this, the only way this is fixed is to act on it. I need to be better and intentional and follow through with focusing on the work in front of me. I'm grateful for the moment of silence the universe had gifted me, even though I wasn't able to walk away from class feeling great. I was able to hone in on what need to be done with no interruptions or distractions and because of that, I get to grow a bit more.

[cricketrocker]

Time is a Funny Theme Park

The summer after I graduated from college, I moved back in with my parents. My dad gave me a folder filled with newspaper clippings about upcoming “job fairs,” and we had a talk. My job now, after four years of college and a double major in post-modern poetry and in the past, was to find a job. I took to this task like a monkey takes to algebra and immediately started catching up on old movies.

“…’cause you’re dead inside, and you can’t live unless you make everything dead around you…” – Fast Eddie

That’s from the 1961 film—The Hustler—about a pool shark named Fast Eddie Felson, played by a young Paul Newman.  I don’t remember much about this movie except that I watched it three or four times in a row and became somewhat obsessed about the shady world of pool hustling, and maybe I identified with some of the open-ended questions about winning, losing, character, and, well, pool.  I’d played some pool in college down in the basement of the Bill Daniel Student Center of Baylor University, especially when I was an angry young Fast Eddie Warner freshman.  I wasn’t very good at playing pool, but I was pretty good at looking like I was good at playing pool.  So when my job became looking for a job, The Hustler provided me with the illuminating direction that what I really needed—in addition to going to job fairs and circling help-wanted ads in the newspaper—was to hang out every afternoon in a pool hall playing pool like Fast Eddie.  I don’t think I was dead inside, but still “Is there nothing in your head?”  Maybe or maybe not.  In any case, I started playing pool every afternoon at a local pool establishment close to my house jauntily named “Clicks.”  This was a weird phase for me.  Job fairs, want ads, and pool.  Naturally this meant that, in addition to my job finding a job and playing pool all the time, I needed to buy my own pool cue—so that I would continue to look even better than good playing pool—but mainly because in The Hustler, the guys all had their own pool cues in little gun cases.  I hopped in my Ford Taurus one Sunday afternoon, blazed down the Dallas North Tollway on my way to Oshman’s, suddenly realized that I was going to miss my exit, swerved violently and too late to safely make my exit, lost control of my Ford Taurus, destroyed a light poll and 20 feet of chain link fence, and then came to a sudden stop on the concrete embankment separating the exit lane from the little dumb road that runs next to the tollway.

I remember a few things about the moment my car stopped.  The first thing I realized was that I was not wearing a seat belt.  The next thing I realized, aside from that the car was smoking, was that I was wearing Birkenstock sandals. 

Funny story—my brother had asked my Grandpa a few days earlier—“What would you say if I told you that this guy paid $100 for those sandals?”  My Grandpa, without missing a beat, replied, “I’d say he was a damn fool!”  Hilarious moment. 

So there I am in my destroyed car.  No seatbelt.  And then I saw some Addison police officers—who had been working an event at the Mary Kay Cosmetics Headquarters building—running toward my car.  In my Ford Taurus’ tape deck, the tape was playing Howard Jones’ song Everlasting Love

which seemed inappropriate at that moment. I guess I was even a little embarrassed by it, so I turned the music off.  As the officers made it over the destroyed fence, I opened the door and stepped out of the car. I remember one of them asking if I was okay; they could not believe I was OK.  One of them asked me to sit down until the paramedics came, but I did not want to sit down.  Anyway.  It occurred to me after the state police arrived, and also the Dallas police and paramedics, that this commotion would be hard to live down, especially since it was all for a pool cue to make me look cooler when looking for a job while looking like I was good playing pool.  That was a bad day.  I remember having to call my parents to come and pick me up from a state police cruiser that somehow had a walkie-talkie (crackle, crackle) that they patched to some system that could dial a phone number; amazing.  My dad did not think it was terrific.  My parents were glad that I was okay.  Not too pleased about the rest.  I was issued a dubious citation for “attempting to exit at an unsafe speed,” later, they sent my parents the bill for the light pole and the chain link fence.  I did not find a job that summer, but I eventually bought my own pool cue and went back to school for another year to get certified to be a Texas teacher so that I could get a job.

Since then, I haven’t played much pool.  I sold my pool cue at a garage sale, but I wish I’d kept it.  As it turns out, playing pool—or even looking like you are good at playing pool—are skills you lose.  All this happened in the summer of 1995 after I’d finished my first college degree.  As it happens, I am currently finishing what will be my (probably) last degree.  So 29 years later, if my math is correct and it probably isn’t, we went on vacation to the Great Smoky Mountains and rented a luxurious cabin in the mountains.  The cabin was amazing—and there was a pool table—and it was unexpected—but my 18-year-old son was up for playing on Monday night.  Then again, after a day of hiking to so many waterfalls on Tuesday night.  Then again, after a day at Dollywood on Wednesday.  And by the way, I had zero expectations of Dollywood and zero appreciation for Dolly Parton before this trip.  But Dollywood really was fantastic and the cinnamon bread is worth admission—and Dolly Parton really is a national treasure.  Anyway.  Then again on Thursday after more national park and waterfalls.  So much pool.  But really it was pool with my son who is 18 and will be going off to Baylor University in the fall.  We played around 22 games throughout the week—of which I won only six.  I cannot express the peace and joy I felt playing pool with my son.

This whole story is not about pool, but this whole story is about what happened on Friday night.  I passed a parent life moment, and pool was the context.  To set the scene, Friday was a day of rest—although we did visit the World’s Largest Knives Store. (that place is crazy).  And we also went to the Dolly Parton Pirate’s Voyage show.  And then we went back to the cabin.  And I went to the pool table and the kid went into his room.  Totally understandable after a week of doing crazy things with the family, right?  I totally understood.  But this is the moment when it happened.  There I was, standing by the pool table.  I’d racked ‘em.  I chalked my cue (and honestly, that’s the coolest thing ever).  I was ready to play.  And I wanted nothing more than to play pool with my son, right?  In this whole linear journey or voyage or whatever you want to call it, I passed over a boundary. 

The parent and child relationship is special, and plays out and has always played out and is natural.  Our children grow up reaching for us.  To hold them up.  To help them.  To be there for them.  To protect them.  They want us to play with them.  They ask us to play games.  To play Legos.  To read to them.  To spend time with them. To play swords.  To shoot Nerf guns.  To just know you’re there.  To play catch.  To kick the soccer ball.  To go places.  To play pool?  Our children reach to us.  To me.  My son has always reached out to ME.

And sure, I finished my doctorate.  I’m proud of that.  But what I’m saying is that as I held my pool cue, the dynamic between this father and that son shifted.  Naturally.  Heart-breakingly.  Rightly.  Imminently.  I knocked on his door to reach out to him.  This dad reached out to the son.  To play pool.  To spend time with me.  To just know he’s there.  He sighed, he’d played pool all week after all.  He told me he’d play in a little while.  I just went out and waited and reflected about these things.  Life is right, in any case.  The moment passed.  He’s a good kid, he came out and we played a few more games that he won conclusively. 

I have no complaints really about this trip, about this moment, and really about how lucky I am with regularity without even trying because I happened to be born in different circumstances than most of the world's population. That said, there are a lot of similarities to The Hustler and also to The Wasteland in these moments. 

There’s a thread that runs through True Detective, The Hustler, The Wasteland, and, well, life that questions whether or not you know who you are—whether or not I know who I am?  I don’t really intend to get into much of that topic now except to draw the analogy that every one of us is playing pool.  I believe that’s true.  Every one of us is Fast Eddie in that pool hall.  And every one of us plays pool, clicks, sticks, rack’em, chalk ‘em up.  I don’t know about being any good at it.  But maybe looking as though you’re good at it is enough.

[eucalyprhodes]

Today, I was reminded of my dream job and how that quickly turned into my nightmare 😅

I think I've talked about the what and why I pursued it and why I left. But I don't think I've ever talked about the absolute stage of desperation that I was in. I think because frankly, I am embarrassed ... and you'll see why.

January 2021, on my last semester of grad school, I FINALLY got a job interview with a local private Christian University. For context, I have gotten interviews from this university for 2 different roles prior. and both interviews, I have already made it to the final stage. Both roles however, were not academic advisor, so the rejection, though painful, was still bearable. January 2021 was the very first academic advising interview that I had since I started on this journey. Unfortunately, this time, I didn't even make it to the second and third interview. I guess my first interview was not that great? (2 years later, I found out via LinkedIn that my interviewer ended up being let go from the institution. That was eerie). I was so done with this university though.

June 2021, I had just finished grad school and had such high hopes. I thought this time, I surely will get to be an academic advisor. I have years of relevant experience, I have my shiny masters degree, I'm ready! I got an interview with one of my dream university for an academic advisor for the college of business. GREAT! I love business students, I have toured the business building so often, I was so excited for it. I went through 3 rounds of interview only to get rejected yet again. At this time, I have already feeling all the pain and emotion from 5 years of rejection, so I actually wrote an email to the DIRECTOR of that department, asking why I didn't get the job! She gave me some weird roundaround answer that didn't make sense to me at all. Oh , and this whole process took about 2 months so there's that.

September 2021, another interview with the same university from June! Academic Counselor for a special population program. I was so excited because I thought this is exactly what I was hoping for! I'll get to work with underserved, first-gen students and this is exactly why I got into advising! I went through three rounds of interviews and by first week of October, I'm just waiting ..

I remember doing this embarrassing thing. On Sundays, I would drop off my husband at church because he serves and I'd go to the second service. While waiting for second service to start, I would drive to the campus because it's nearby, I would park and literally, PRAY over the school. I would pray loudly and boldly (in my car though), I cried and prayed and cried again. It was my alone time with God to really be honest and cry out to him. I think one time, campus security almost approached me but I saw them coming so I left right away. I figured I have nothing to lose so this is my last desperate attempt to get God to finally give me what i want.

and He did! He loves me that much that He graciously gave me this one thing that I wanted in the past 5 years. Only to find out almost immediately, that this career is not for me and I will never be happy and fulfilled here.

Why did I share this?

Because I want you to know that God does answer prayers, even for things that He knows will not be good for us BUT He knows we'll learn from it. Why didn't God just prevent me from getting my dream job if He knew I won't like it anyways? Because He knows that without that job, I would not be where I am today. He knows that I needed to be in that job, to see the reality of how that career pathway does not align with mine anymore, and because He knew this experience would bring a new perspective in my life, one that would grow my faith in Him. Our God is so good and smart, and today, I was reminded of that.

This is an excerpt from Pastor Jack Hibbs' book

"If what you want is against what God wants but you keep harping on it (basically NAGGING God for it), eventually, you'll probably get it. When you get it, it will be your demise, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself"

If I didn't experience the biggest disappointment in my professional life, I wouldn't return back to HR. If I didn't experience this, my faith journey would be different. God knows every moment of my life and He perfectly crafted this time so that I can grow to trust Him more.

and now, I need to apply it to this season of trusting God about my desire to conceive. These past few months have been difficult to say the least, learning how to deal with my feelings and emotions over the fact that everyone else gets pregnant (might I add, not even struggling to be one) while my husband and I have making all conscious efforts to get pregnant. However, recently, I came to realize AND remember, what we ask doesn't always come into fruition and that is okay because God knows what's best for us.

If I nag and beg and cry out to God for a child right now, He probably will eventually give me one but it might not be the best thing for me in that season. And I know in my heart deep down, we're not ready for a child. Financially, emotionally, spiritually. There's a lot of things I need to work on before accepting the greatest and hardest responsibility in this earth. So today, I can peacefully say I understand. Whether a child will come into my life or not, I understand because it's God's plan and God has the final say. I don't want to force my desire on God, I don't want to force my timeline on God because He is in full control and I am okay with it.

If you have been struggling with unanswered prayers, just know that God knows what He's doing, EVEN IF it is so heckin HARD sometimes. Do you know how many times I cried in August because of pregnancy announcements around me? too much to count LOL But they all had to happen, because they brought me down to my knees, and that's when I find comfort in our Lord, Jesus Christ.

I hope this blog encourages you <3

[cleopatrachampagne]

it’s crazy to me to that parents seem to think paying thousands — or putting their kid in debt for thousands — of dollars for a dorm is paying for their kids safety when it’s the opposite. living off campus you have a much safer environment plus real life consequences for stupid choices compared to dorms where you pack a bunch of naive kids together then leave them unsupervised but cover up their mistakes or baby them. i was assaulted at 18 and i really largely blame the rape culture on campuses and the kids dying of shroom overdoses during orientation week on the way dorms work at colleges. privileged idiot kids with no supervision or consequences packed in like sardines in coed buildings with a microdose of freedom how could it possibly go right but parents seem to think it’s safer for their kids than paying less for a place off campus. yeah, if your kid breaks the law they’ll go to jail instead of getting a phone call home but that kid is a lot less likely to make dumb mistakes because of it.

overdoses leading to deaths, alcohol poisoning and sexual assault are so common but colleges that nickel and dime you for printer ink or a sip of water are eager to fool american helicopter parents into thinking it’s wise to pay out the ass for a shoebox sized room so they can keep their adult kids coddled. so not only is it expensive and restrictive (a lot of private colleges require their students to live on campus for at least two years and buy a pricey but insufficient/shitty meal plan and it’s hard to have a job while living on campus if it’s even allowed) but it’s unsafe.

i did two years community college then went to a public college and now am in grad school at a large public college and am in less debt than my sister who is living on campus at a private college and hasn’t even finished one degree yet. and as a french major at a school that required an immersion experience i can safely say that study abroad exchanges where you attend a foreign college for a set period of time (rather than paying yours an obscene amount for two weeks supervised abroad) often have much cheaper tuition and living expenses compared to the us even when adjusted for the varying exchange rates so although travel can be costly it’s actually cheaper for me to study in lyon than in the usa.

in lyon i had rent at an apartment i didn’t need to share of around 1,000 euros, tuition less than 1,000 euros for a semester and then expenses for a few months of groceries, utilities, etc plus an actual walkable city so no gas or car costs which compared to over 3,000 us dollars for my classes alone here not including textbooks, rent, etc it’s wild how we seem to think it’s normal here to pay 25,000 dollars a year to be less prepared for life.

it feels like a way for parents to conform to the american idea of kicking your kid out at eighteen while still getting to control and baby them. my mom’s family mainly lives in mexico and barcelona where it’s expected for adult kids to live with their families until they’re stable enough to be out on their own. there’s zero shame in it since it has long been normal to live at home until marriage or mid-twenties and i used to think that was weird or embarrassing until as an adult i saw the difference in preparedness for young people to face the real world in both financial and emotional ways.

dorms really just seem like a massive classist cope for parents and their adult kids to have a simulated version of adulthood / having your kid out of the home while it’s simultaneously seen as shameful for a young person to live at home while having a job and/or attending a public university. i honestly think a young adult living at home while paying bills and developing their genuine independence plus avoiding extra debt has a way better handle on real adult life than a young adult living in a dorm room but somehow it’s viewed as the reverse even though that situation is better financially and socially for parents too. the mind fairly boggles, tbh.

amazing your daughter goes to a great public university with spending a dime and u are complaining