#applying for college and applying for a job are my first steps

[usmsgutterson]

realizing that I’m actually going to have to go to college and accrue student loan debt but thinking “I need this. I need this. I need this.” because I want to live successfully and away from home. I want to get life experience and I can handle student loan debt if it means I’ll be having a good life in the aftermath. 

[ybklix]

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: ��what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

[dreamsteddie]

Steve H.

Part Two, Part One

Okay, I started the last post with a "Haha wouldn't it be funny" which turned into a long, not-so-funny rant. So! Here is the funny part!

Steve is Dustin's brother and Claudia's son in all but law. He lives with them, calls Claudia mom and refers to Dustin as his brother, takes them to all his school events until he graduates and helps pay the bills after high school. Claudia never pressures him to apply to colleges he doesn't even want to get into or makes him feel like he has to move out any time soon when he turns 18, so he stays and gets a part-time job at Scoops where he bonds with Robin for life.

At the same time, drop out Eddie and his uncle Wayne move to town when the power company transfers him to the plant in Hawkins. It serves them well since Eddie needs a fresh start after getting tossed out of school without a degree for unjust reasons. He needs some place where he can make friends and get a job without his reputation hanging over his head, and Wayne would never abandon his nephew.

So they land in Hawkins and Eddie finds his feet by visiting the library and happening upon a gaggle of kids commandeering one of the reservable conference rooms for DnD. They're are a few older kids closer to his age there too, but the curly-haired one is definitely running the show.

Meanwhile, Wayne has failed to mention to his nephew that the main reason he agreed to the transfer uncontested was because he hit it off with one Claudia Henderson at a diner after a fishing trip and has been dating her without Eddie's knowledge for 8 months. He breaks the news to his Nephew when he starts making plans to propose and wants to introduce Eddie to Claudia and her sons before he does. Wayne loves Claudia but Eddie comes first and he wants to make sure they'll all make a good family.

So they go over to the Henderson household for dinner one night, Wayne having wrangled Eddie into a black button-down and jeans without holes so Claudia doesn't think he raised a ruffian.

Dustin answers the door and immediately freaks out because he's so excited. He's met Wayne before and so has Steve so he knows things are serious and there's a good chance Eddie becomes family down the line.

Yelling in excitement the whole way Dustin drags both men into the kitchen where the root of all Eddie's troubles can be found.

Steve.

He immediately starts bitching at Dustin about acceptable volumes, towel over his shoulder and hands on hips and Eddie is Gone. Sent. In the stratosphere and immediately smitten. He's lost in the clouds planning their own wedding until reality crashes back down on his head as Steve extends his hand and introduces himself as Dustin's brother.

Eddie, of course, does not know that Steve is not actually related to anyone in this family legally or otherwise and no one thinks to clue him in since they're all so accustomed to the family dynamic.

If Google had been around in the 80s Eddie's search history would be full of "Is it illegal to date my uncle's step-son? NOT RELATED BY BLOOD" "how many degrees of separation in the family tree is acceptable?"

Que Eddie desperately trying to suppress his crush and not ruin his uncle's happiness by wooing his almost step-cousin ew like he really wants to.

But it's so hard! Steve is so beautiful and kind and dorky and a little weird and basically everything Eddie could possibly want in a boyfriend! Eddie wants to bite his freckles and hold his hand so badly but he won't ruin Wayne's future marriage because he kissed his future stepson like they're characters in those soap operas Claudia likes. He won't!

And then to make matters worse Steve seems like he really wants to bond with Eddie. He's always asking him to hang out wether that's going to the mall to hang out with his best friend Robin or swapping tapes at Claudia's house or showing Eddie all his favorite spots in Hawkins. (Steve is very much dropping hints that he wants to date Eddie who he's 96% sure is into him but Eddie is too caught up to notice)

It comes to a head on the day of the engagement. Wayne enlisted all three of "his boys" to help set up a nice dinner party with their closest friends, something Claudia has always mentioned wanting to host, while Joyce invites her out for some shopping and girl time. Steve and Wayne do most of the cooking while Eddie and Dustin are on set up picking up the flowers and pulling the nice table setting down from the attic before separating to get dressed in their nice outfits.

It's like a moment from a fairytale when Steve walks down the stairs and smiles at him. He's so fucking handsome it makes Eddie's heart ache with the cold realization that he's fallen completely in love with a man he can't have. Eddie can feel a prickling behind his eyes but he brutally shoves the sensation down. Today isn't about him.

Eddie puts on a happy face. It's not hard, he is truly happy for Wayne. His uncle deserves the world and both him and Claudia looked so in love when she said yes. He just wishes it didn't have to mean never having the man of his dreams. Eddie sticks the party out and he thinks he did a pretty good job hiding his mood right up until Dustin barges into the basement where the hideaway bed lives. The plan was always for the whole new family unit to stay the night so Eddie heads down as soon as it is acceptable to fall face-first into the pillows and trash around a little bit. Maybe even scream. Sue him, he's heartbroken.

That's how Dustin finds him and he immediately starts crowing that he knew something was up with Eddie. He starts pestering in true Dustin fashion until Eddie inelegently blurts out "I'M IN LOVE WITH MY FUTURE COUSIN IN LAW!"

Dustin blinks at him for a few minutes while Eddie freaks out because he's been so good only for Dustin to bully a confession out of him the day his uncle got engaged like a jerk!

But then Dustin is literally rolling around on the floor howling with laughter and Eddie has never wanted to strangle someone and disappear at the same time in his whole life. He's about to start asking Dustin what the fuck is up when the younger boy sits up and says "He's not my real brother!" at which point it's Eddie's turn to blink at Dustin in silence.

Dustin explains that while Steve is definitely his brother in all the ways that matter he's not actually related to Dustin or Claudia, nor was he ever legally adopted.

Eddie hardly lets Dustin finish his story before he's booking it up the stairs to Steve's room with a truly unprecedented display of athleticism on his part. He franticly taps on the door, aware enough to avoid banding on it like he would like to lest he disturb the newly engaged couple down the hall.

Steve opens the door, eyes wide and slightly frantic. As soon as his eyes meet Eddie's they disappear from his eyeline because Eddie has dropped to his knees, hands clasped together, and begs "Mary me!"

Of course, they don't get engaged that night. Eddie kind of just panicked and said the first thing that came to his head, but they kissed and began to date with the full blessing of their weird little family.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | i. the return

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter rating: Mature [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), reader is described as curvy & only has one parent--all else is open to interpretation (we are POC friendly over here okay!!), sarah exists but isn't a main part of the story]

summary: now that you've moved on from college, you're ready to start the newest chapter of your life--adulthood. but when you move back home and are swept back into the magnetic pull of your neighbor, Joel, you find that maybe moving on has nothing to do with leaving the past behind and everything to do with embracing it.

wc: <2k

the masterlist | joel’s pov | next chapter

Undergrad had been a thrilling, difficult, eye-opening experience—one that brought you new friends and new love, along with fall-outs and breakups—but now that you’d earned your degree, you were determined to move on to the next stage of your life. 

Step one, move back home until you landed a job. Step two, move the fuck out.  

Step one was currently underway, your dad hauling the contents of your jam-packed tiny sedan into the house you’d lived in for the better half of your life, while you unpacked the last four years into your old bedroom. It seemed tinier than it had four years ago, but perhaps it wasn’t the room that had changed. Perhaps it was simply that you’d outgrown the space. You tried to fit your new life into your old—shoving your clothes from high school into bags to drag down to the thrift store so that you’d have room for the clothes that fit your new, curvier body—and attempted not to mourn the loss of your old self. 

But wouldn’t this always be the case? With each step you took forward, the more distance you’d put between you and your youngest self. Some days, you wished to plant your feet and refuse to move at all, the comfort of the past too soothing and the uncertainty of the future too unsettling. But most days—like today—you forced your eyes to fix on the image of all that could be, of all that you could be, even when it ached to do so. 

“That’s the last of it,” your dad announced with an exhausted sigh, sweat beading down his forehead as he set the last box down in the middle of the room. 

“Thanks,” you managed, your mind busy with planning. It seemed to never stop, the constant sorting out of your situation. You had to plan the new arrangement of your old furniture, which friends and relatives you’d visit first, which jobs you’d apply for, which apartment complex looked the safest, how you’d manage to make rent, and so on, until you had to plan your funeral. What a joy life was. 

“I know you’re probably busy, but I thought it’d be nice if we went out for dinner tonight,” he suggested, likely able to see the nonstop churning of the wheels inside your mind. He was always oddly aware like that. “Beats you having to eat my cooking.”

You let out a chuckle, nodding your head as you allowed yourself to rest from all the organizing and plotting. You set your hands on your hips and turned to give him a small smile and shrug. “Sure.”

“Alright,” he smiled back, something soft and barely there. “Just, uh, pick a place. I can invite Joel and Sarah, if you want. I know they’ve missed you.”

You laughed at the prospect of your gruff neighbor ever missing you. His ten-year-old, Sarah, likely did, the two of you forming almost a sisterly bond over the last two years that you’d known her. You were her babysitter during your summer and winter breaks from college, mostly because you didn’t mind the work and because you lived right next to the Millers. 

But her father? No, he never seemed to care much for you. Or anyone, for that matter. Except Sarah, his brother, Tommy, and your dad. 

“Sure,” you said, the word slowly becoming your new mantra. “I’ll, uh, just finish unpacking and then I’ll get ready.”

“Alright,” he said, taking one last look around the room before moving to the doorway. He stopped, ever the old sentimental bastard, and turned your way. “Good to have you home, kiddo.” 

You gave him another pursed smile and nodded, fighting the urge to tell him that if things worked out in your favor, you wouldn’t be home for long. “Yeah, dad.”

After a much needed shower and a bit of makeup, you nearly felt like yourself again. You wore a pair of denim shorts and a nicer tank top to combat the late summer heat, nothing too scandalous for a family dinner. Your dad drove the two of you to your favorite mexican spot in relative silence, the dull hum of the radio lost to your ears as you watched Austin pass by through the passenger window. 

Joel and Sarah were there when you pulled into the parking lot, the two of them standing in front of their familiar old pick-up. Sarah was wearing a summer dress, her tight curls now in rows of boho-braids. Joel, in a worn-in t-shirt and a pair of jeans, hardly looked much older than he had when you first met him two years ago. At thirty-two, he was handsome, but at thirty-four…well, he was enough to make a girl drool. 

You never liked to admit it to yourself, but you’d always had a bit of a crush on him. Back then, at twenty-two, you assumed it was simply the allure of an older man during a time in which all you wanted was to be a “real adult”. And as the last couple of years went on and the prospect of growing up began to dim, you expected that your little crush would dim along with it. But looking at him now, the only thing time did was make him all the more handsome and desirable. From the way he treated his daughter to the fact that not once during your stint as babysitter did he ever try anything creepy with you, you were forced to believe that he was a stand-up man. And what was more desirable than a good man who looked like that?

Sarah’s squeal pulled you out of your admiration of her father as she ran over to you, hugging your waist. You squeezed her right back, making up for the last five months you spent away at school. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you said, giving her a smile as she pulled away to look up at you. “I like your braids. Did your dad do them?”

She gave you a look that screamed get real. “Please, he can’t even manage a ponytail.”

You laughed, lifting your eyes to meet Joel’s as he stood a few feet away with your father. You were surprised to find him looking at you, though of course he would be, given that out of the four of you here, you were the only one who he didn’t see every single day. Still, the eye contact was enough to get your stomach fluttering with something both anxious and eager. 

“Welcome home,” he said, his voice hitting you just as hard as his gaze. You tried not to react, to behave like you always had before, but now that you were reaching your mid-twenties, had earned your degree, and had experienced your first dry spell in your adult life, it was difficult. Every womanly part of you screamed with the urge to flirt, to put everything you learned at college to work for him. 

“Thanks,” you said instead, trailing your gaze to the restaurant behind him and then to your father. “Should we go inside? It’s hot.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, taking the lead. He and Joel walked in ahead of you and Sarah, her hand in yours, and you tried not to admire the broad expanse of her father’s back as he stood right in front of you in the restaurant lobby, close enough that you could smell the warm spice of his cologne. 

A wild, rogue part of you wanted to reach your hand out and smooth it across the soft cotton, tracing the line of his spine and the curve of his shoulder blades. In fact, the urge was almost unbearable, as if he were a siren and you were a sailor lost in the current. But somehow, you managed to keep your hands to yourself. 

After getting seated by the host, you ordered yourself a giant frozen margarita to take the edge of sitting directly across from Joel off and busied yourself with the chips and salsa. Your dad, meanwhile, seemed completely at ease as he chatted with Joel, filling him in about his plans for building a deck in the backyard of your house. The conversation didn’t interest you or Sarah, the two of you more focused on clearing the first basket of chips so that you could start on the next. 

“So,” Joel said, something in his tone luring your eyes to his. “You interested in babysittin’ over the summer?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, masking your inner beast who felt nothing but disappointed over the fact that even after all the growing up you’d done over the last two years, all he saw you as was a babysitter to his little girl. Some college kid. The daughter of his friend. 

“I’m gonna be busy applying for jobs, but sure,” you said, glancing at Sarah with a smile. “Not gonna pass up a chance to hang with the coolest kid in the neighborhood.”

To your surprise, Joel smiled at the interaction. “Good. She’s been on my ass about askin’ since we heard you were movin’ back home.”

You nodded, smiling as you drank your margarita from a straw. You kept your eyes averted from him for the most part, not trusting yourself to not melt right there in your seat under his gaze, but on a chance glance his way, you caught Joel’s eyes slipping to your mouth as you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. He seemed to realize what he was doing the exact instant you had and quickly turned away to scan the busy restaurant. 

If your father and Sarah hadn’t been there, you might have tried to be bold about things. Perhaps you’d brush his leg with yours under the table, or maybe you’d simply tell him it was alright to stare if he wanted to—that you didn’t care what he did as long as he kept looking at you with those dark eyes. But as it were, you couldn’t do anything but mourn the loss of his gaze and listen as he began talking to your dad about his own summer project—renovating his master bathroom. 

Thrilling stuff, really.

By the end of dinner, you were more than tipsy and equal parts antsy to get home, or at least to get some space from Joel. You hugged Sarah goodbye with the promise of coming over the next afternoon, ignoring Joel’s attempt at a goodbye in favor of sliding into the passenger seat. Your dad gave him a pat on the shoulder and waved goodbye to Sarah before climbing in beside you with a soft exhale. 

“What’s up with you?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition. 

“Nothing, why?” 

“You’ve been quiet all night,” he said, whipping his head around as he pulled out of the parking spot. “And drunk. Even just now, Joel was trying to say bye, and you blew him off.”

Ironic, that wording. 

“I’m just tired,” you said, shrugging. “It’s been a long day.”

“I can understand that,” he said. “But just…Joel’s had a rough go of it lately, breaking up with that woman he was seeing for a while and having to raise Sarah by himself, so just…take it easy on him.”

The fact that Joel had been dating at all was news to you. Last time you were around, he didn’t seem to have any interest in dating. Sarah said it was because she asked him not to, her parent’s divorce three years ago still too fresh, but perhaps she’d changed her mind in the last few months and he’d gone and found himself a girlfriend. 

Your stomach curdled at the thought. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” you said, picking at the frayed hem of your shorts. “But I’ll make a better effort to be nice.”

“That’s all I ask,” he said, giving you a smile. “And I know you’re tired of hearing it, sweetheart, but I really am glad to have you back. There’s no rush for you to land a job or move out, you know. Just…enjoy the summer. Go make some new friends. Have some fun.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’ll try my best, pops.” 

“I’m gonna be busy with work and seeing Vic, so I won’t be up your ass all summer,” he said, mentioning the girlfriend he went and got himself during the last year of you being off at college—one you still hadn’t met. “Just don’t want you getting lonely by yourself at the house.”

“After sharing an apartment with five people for the last three years, I think a bit of alone time would do me well,” you said, chuckling. “So don’t worry about me. I’ll occupy myself.”

“In that case, would you mind if I went down to San Antonio to see Vic this weekend?” he asked, giving you a hopeful look that he only pulled out when he assumed you’d protest to whatever it was he was asking. But this time, you really didn’t care. You meant what you said about wanting some alone time to decompress and settle in without constantly being asked how you were doing. 

“Go ahead,” you said, giving him a soft, encouraging smile. “I’m just going to be unpacking all weekend anyways.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, dad,” you laughed at the roundness of his eyes, at how concerned he was about you. Eventually, he’d come to know the new you, the person who thrived on independence and didn’t need to have someone around all the time. “I’ll manage to survive on my own for two days, I promise.” 

“Alright, smartass,” he laughed. “Don’t be afraid to shoot me a text if you need me to come back, alright?”

“For the millionth time—okay, dad.”

[underestimated-heroine]

The fact that radfems spread this post around is actually really interesting--infuriating, but interesting. Because what they've really done here is tell on themselves.

This is the shrimp guy story:

From an anonymous green text called "shrimp saved my life" [emphasis mine]:

>be depressed, suicidal xanax- addicted incel >one day I go to my /aq/fag uncle's house for some shit >he has pet shrimp, never seen anything like it before >he offers to get me some 53 KB JPG >throw them in a barely cycled tank with some shitty rock >several shrimp die >realize that I killed them with my apathy >realize I need to take responsibility for once in my life >do research, learn about water parameters and so on >eventually I have a beautiful planted tank with no more deaths >notice a female shrimp carrying eggs >haven't felt this excited about anything in almost a decade >the eggs disappear and I once again think I fucked up >a few days later I see a tiny transparent baby shrimp >l suddenly know how the shepherds felt as they gazed upon the newborn Christ >by this point I live and breathe shrimp >all my spare time is spent on shrimp research and watching shrimp videos >l spend most of the money I had saved from my last job on shrimp products >quit the Xanax to support shrimp spending >start putting effort into college in hope of getting a good job for my shrimp >grades improve, no longer facing the prospect of dropping out >relationship with parents improves since I am finally passionate about something and applying myself >l see genuine happiness in their eyes when I talk excitedly about my shrimp >for my birthday my mom makes me a shrimp cake >it even has fondant legs and little chocolate eggs >cry like a little bitch when I see it >mom hugs me and tells me she's always been proud of me >college dorm neighbours demand to see my shrimp >shit they're gonna think I'm autistic >they actually think my shrimp are really cool >they start inviting me to their social events >start interacting with girls, get told by girls for the first time in my life that I'm fun and smart >l think my shrimp would be proud of me if they knew >We're gonna make it bros. Even if you can't do it for yourself, do it for the animals that depend on you.

He did address his relationship with women. By finding a hobby and passion and working on himself--"touching grass"--he stepped away from the echo chamber that filled him with all this rage and convinced him women were to blame for all of his problems. As someone once wisely observed, "the cure is going offline and realizing it's just. really not that big a deal."

And that is what radfems have not done, so of course they didn't spot the quiet flashpoint of shrimp guy's personal development within his story.

Edit: it's been brought to my attention that the version of the greentext post I lifted the text from was censored by someone else. My bad for not realizing that, tbh it was done so well I thought shrimp guy had done it himself, but that's an important part of the post. I've gone back through and un-censored it. The reply which was spread around with the original post addressed the words themselves well, I think; however distasteful and fucked up the incel rabbit hole is, it doesn't diminish his growth.

[spacexgrl]

Bittersweet ! 🎀

mdni <3

series masterlist

~ in which Ellie breaks up with you and you go a little crazy ~

ex! ellie williams x fem! reader , abby anderson x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: angst, break up, cheating!!, cursing, toxic behavior, smut in future chapters <3 feminine and girly reader ,not proof read!!

To say that you were nervous was an understatement, you and Ellie have been on edge ever since you moved to seattle for college. At first you weren’t going to apply for this university in particular but Ellie begged you to because she didn’t want to do this without you, there were times in your relationship where she couldn’t even breathe if you weren’t in a 2 meter radius from her. You’ve been together for almost three years now, it’s been roughly four months since you’ve moved in together and every day was hell for you since then, not because she treated you badly no..quite the opposite she did nothing, fucking nothing. You noticed her lack of impact in your relationships on a random wednesday when she left for her morning classes without saying anything , she didn’t even spare a single glance at you not even a simple hug. At first you tried not to overthink it, maybe she just didn’t get enough sleep, maybe she was stressed it was an exams week after all!! Right?? Fuck.. how wrong you were.

So you tried your best to take care of Ellie, you cooked her favorite meals, took her out to see the newest superhero movies, massaged her feet after a long day at her side job, got her some clothes she had been eyeing at a local thrift store, showered her with all your love and affection at all times!! Only that she didn’t seem to perceive your efforts at all. It’s not that she wasn’t thankful, you know her she definitely was but still… something was very different.

Every time you tried to hug her she kind off..shrugged you off, always trying to find a reason to escape your acts of love. You wanted a kiss? “Uhh sorry my lips are too chapped” “I don’t want your lipgloss on me” “actually i have to go” you could go on and on. No matter how hard you tried she always pushed you away.

A few minutes ago she texted you that she’ll be home from work soon and that you needed to talk…your heart dropped to your ass but before you suffered an anxiety attack you decided to do your nighttime routine and make yourself look presentable for your talk with Ellie.

“How the fuck did this go so wrong??” you asked yourself for the 80th time today as you stepped out of your steaming hot shower and wrapped yourself in your soft pink towel. A small laugh escaped your lips as you relived the memory of you as you showed Ellie the things you bought for the apartment, you wanted everything pink and white with a hint of leopard print and Ellie just went with it, no complaints just pure love for you and your girly things. It left a bittersweet taste on your tongue as you locked eyes with your reflection in the mirror while you worked your skin care products into your skin, you were so effortlessly beautiful one would never notice that you were in an unhappy relationship. Your skin was smooth, lips plump and glossy after applying your dior lip oil. You were a true bombshell, you thought to yourself. And damn..you were so right.

You’ve just slipped into your silky pijamas as you heard the front door creak open. You took one last glance in the mirror and fixed your hair before meeting Ellie in the kitchen. She sat by your dining table, the food you’ve warmed up for her remained untouched like almost every day. “‘m not hungry..” she mumbled, almost too quiet for you to hear so you just put the food back in the fridge. Now you’re sitting right in front of each other, in silence . No one dared to say a word, even though you expected Ellie to start the conversation. You studied her, the way she manspread on the chair, how she was fidgeting with her hands..oh her hands..god you were gonna miss them..though you haven’t felt them in months. Okay focus now.. you noticed her troubled facial expressions, she was nervous and scared to look you in the eyes. You loved her eyes so much, they definitely were your favorite shade of green.

“Ellie please” you finally spoke up, your heart raced, daring to jump out of your chest. Your voice has never been so weak, you barely made it without tearing up. The tension only thickened the more she thought about what to say, but you knew exactly what was happening.

“I’m so sorry i just..” she stumbled over her own words, finally meeting your teary eyes. Her heart ached as much as yours but she knew that it’s better this way.. “I can’t give you anything back because i.. don’t know why but i don’t want to anymore i think i’ve lost feelings for you a while ago and it’s just.. i can’t explain i’m so sorry” she swore she heard your heart shatter in the exact moment she spoke.

“is it because of your best friend? What’s her name?? Dina? Is she the reason for all of this?”

You sobbed, remembering the day Ellie introduced you to her new best friend Dina. She was so nice to you and you got along so well..until Ellie stopped bringing her to your apartment to hang out at her place instead, she claimed that they studied better that way. Yeah studying was definitely what they were doing..no wonder Ellie refused to touch you once Dina was in the picture..it all made sense to you now..fuck this bullshit

“i think i have feelings for her..i’m sorry”

Ellie couldn’t look at you anymore, shame eating her alive as she admitted to her feelings for her best friend. How could she do this to you? She felt crazy and would do anything for your forgiveness. She couldn’t stand the thought of not having you in her life anymore, even if it’s just as friends. She liked Dina and she’d ask her to be her girlfriend soon but.. you didn’t need to know that.

“wow..” you scoffed and got up from your seat, tossing her duffel bag in her face. Ellie flinched and you almost laughed at her pathetic attempt to catch the bag before it hit her.

“pack your shit then, i want you gone in the next few minutes and leave the keys. I’m sure Dina has a nice place for you to stay.”

Ellie noticed the way your eyes darkened, she knew that she was in for a ride after breaking your kind and beautiful heart…

“oh fuck”

she created a monster

…

to be continued 🎀

pt 2

[holylulusworld]

Their little maid (1)

Summary: Mafia business is dirty. The brothers need someone to clean up their mess and more.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader x Nick Fowler

Warnings: shy reader, flirty brothers, mafia business, money trouble, Walker is the worst, injured reader (nothing serious), blood

Their little maid masterlist

Catch up here: Their little maid (Prologue)

The brothers flank your sides, while you try not to hiss with every step. Your knees hurt, and you can feel blood dry on your skin. They told you to follow them down the hall and to their office.

Honestly, this house, or rather a mansion, is a maze. If you get the job, you’ll need a floor plan to find your way back outside.

“So, how did you find our job offer?” Bucky asks. He dips his head to watch you wring your hands. “Doll, you don’t have to be nervous. Walker is an ass; forget about him.”

“I found your offer on a website and applied to the job offer,” you cringe at the sound of your voice.

“What did you do before you decided to become our maid?” Nick throws in, stealing your attention when he places his warm hand on your shoulder. “Do you have experience in cleaning private homes?”

“N-o,” you sigh deeply. Of course, they’d ask about experience first. “I mean, I cleaned my home, and I helped an elderly lady before she moved into a nursing home. Does that count?”

Bucky chuckles because you look like a lost lamb surrounded by two big wolves. He watches you squirm under their gazes, feeling something more than amusement.

“I think that counts,” Nick furrows his brows at his brother. “Right, Bucky?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky clears his throat. He unlocks the office and holds the door open for you, murmuring your name as you walk inside. You stop in front of the large, mahogany double desk. Expectantly looking at the desk, you wait for Bucky and Nick to sit in their comfortable chairs.

“Have a seat,” Bucky gestures toward the leather couch. “Do you have your job references, resume, and cover letter with you?” He asks, looking at your empty hands. You start to sweat. Fuck, no. Out of all the days you could have messed things up, you chose this one.

“Oh-no!” You hide your face in the palms of your hands. “I left the Manila folder on my bed when I looked for a different shirt, and then I had to catch the bus and forgot about the folder.” You cringe because you’re so pathetic; the men try to calm you.

“Hey, that’s not the end of the world,” Nick says and places his hand on the small of your back, making you feel warm. “You can just tell us what you have done so far and bring us the folder next time. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Nick guides you toward the couch. He sits next to you, eyes glued to your knees.

“Before we begin, let’s get your knees clean. Maybe you need a bandage.” Bucky is fast to open a drawer in one of the cabinets to get a first aid kit out.

“No—no!” You raise your hand. “I can do this at home. I don’t want to waste your time, Mr. Barnes.”

“You can talk while Bucky cleans your wound. He likes playing nurse,” Nick teases while his hand moves up and down your back. You whine, feeling hot all of a sudden. “So, what was your last job?”

“Librarian,” you hastily say before your voice fails. “Uh—that’s the only job I ever had. Oh, and I sold ice cream during college, and I had a lemonade stand when I was a kid.” You curse under your breath. Why do you always have to babble and tell people things they don’t want to know about?

“A librarian,” Nick almost purrs the words. “Bucky, she was a librarian.” He hisses his brother’s name when Bucky doesn’t respond. Said man just stares at your bruised knees, lost in thoughts. “Buck, did you hear?”

“I got a problem to handle here, brother,” Bucky bites back. He doesn’t mean your bruised knees, though, but the twitch in his pants. Bucky knew the moment he laid eyes on you that you were the one they were looking for.

“I can see that,” Nick laughs, watching Bucky tug at his slacks. “You should finish what you started. Fix her knees, and we can talk later.” Nick moves a little closer, his hand dropping to the couch to brush your bottom. He hums when you squirm the moment his brother starts cleaning your wound. “Shush, sweetness. It’s all good.”

You wince because the sanitizer stings like hell. Biting your lower lip, you watch Bucky crouch down in front of you to get a better look at the damage Walker caused.

“Did you like your job?” He asks while swiping a cotton ball over your wound. “At the library.”

“Yeah.” You nod. “I liked it very much, but,” you heave a sigh. “They had to close because no one came to the library any longer.”

“You will like your new job too,” Bucky murmurs as he puts a bandage on your wound. “We need someone to clean up the mess we make daily. The house is huge, but don’t worry. We only want you to take care of our bedrooms and our clothes. The rest of the house is not your problem. We have people take care of it.”

“Oh—” you wrinkle your forehead. That’s odd. Why do they need someone to clean only their bedrooms and to take care of their wardrobe?

“You see,” Bucky grabs your hand to stop you from fidgeting. “We don’t trust anyone near our bedrooms or with our clothes. You’ll get a room next to your bedrooms, so you can take care of this part of the house and sleep over a long day of work.”

“Sleep…here?” You splutter. “But...I got an apartment...and...you want me to live here?”

“Oh, that’s part of the deal,” Nick whispers in your ear. “You must prove to us that we can trust you, sweetness. If you live here, you cannot tell anyone about our secrets.”

You still don’t understand a thing but nod. If you get the job now, you can ask questions later. Your landlord won’t wait another week for you to pay rent.

“That makes sense, I guess,” you lie. This doesn’t make sense at all, but you’re willing to do almost anything to get this job.

“It’s settled then,” Nick claps his hands. He looks at Bucky for confirmation. Well, the bulge in his brother’s pants tells him he’s more than willing to hire you. “Buck?”

“Yes.” Bucky looks at your knees one more time. He hums and gets back up. “We can discuss the details tomorrow. Welcome to our team, Y/N.” He holds out his hand, and you eagerly shake it. “I’ll call Barton and Romanoff to get her things.”

“Get my... what?” You stammer. “You want me to move in today?”

“I told you,” Nick places his hand on your thigh and flashes you a stunning smile. “Do not worry about a thing.”

Tags in reblog.

[engeorged]

The Conference Part One

Chapter One: 2018

Kit had taken the job not knowing that my first week would be the company’s annual sales conference. He was always painfully shy and preferred to stay at home with his nose in a book or playing some online strategy game in his darkened room. He had done well at school and college and eventually university where he had picked up his qualifications easily and ahead of schedule. But after finishing he moved back in with his parents and rarely went out. At first it was perfect, his parents left him alone and his noisy brothers were all off living their lives. But at 26, he began to feel a bit trapped. He needed to change something.

Tackling it in his usual academic way, he booked some time with a life coach. The first few meetings with the coach were painful but eventually he began to come round to the idea that he had a lot to offer the world. He was smart and funny and even though he would never admit it, quite attractive in a bookish way. Kit was tall and athletic looking for someone who didn't do any athletics. The coach had encouraged him to put himself out there into the world and so he applied for a job with a huge international shipping company. Well, shipping was their business on paper but in reality they dabbled in most markets making billions every day. The analytics job he applied for suited Kit down to the ground, he would be based in an office ploughing through numbers but would still be in contact with colleagues in person.

The day of the conference arrived and Kit had every intention of trying to interact with some people and had even practised some conversation starters in advance. As he stepped into the lobby of the huge hotel his heart began to pound, this was going to be even harder than he had feared. But he was determined to not bail. He joined the queue for check in and once he had his key card, he hurried off to his room for safety. After nesting and getting unpacked, he gave himself a little pep talk in the mirror and ventured to the first session. There was no way he would be able to avoid talking to people in a crowd like this.

Unfortunately, the reality was very much that he was able to attend a national conference and not speak to a single person. Everyone seemed to know people already and Kit just blended into the background, like normal. Sessions came and went, meals happened and Kit managed to not have a single meaningful interaction except ordering the odd coffee.

By the third day he was done hiding and decided that he would use some of the techniques he’d practised with his coach and approach someone to initiate a chat IRL. He scouted round the room and saw one of the guys he had met at his interview. He was in the same department Kit would be working in, and seemed friendly, so he approached him with a drink in his hand. He waited for a few minutes before the guy turned round and half smiled at him. Kit opened his mouth to say hi and ask how he was finding the conference and nothing came out. The guy waited for a few seconds before nodding his head awkwardly and turning round to continue with his friend.

Kit had blown it. He slipped away, holding back tears and found a quiet bathroom at the back of the hotel. Fortunately, there was no one in there and he shot into a cubicle and closed the door behind him. His head was spinning. Who did he think he was, taking a job like this? He should have taken something in a smaller company where there were just a few people and no annual sales conference. This was too much too soon.

As he sat there, berating himself for being so stupid, he heard the door to the bathroom crash open.

‘Fucks sake!’ he heard a deep voice exclaim. The man was clearly annoyed at something and went to the taps, which he turned on. Kit tried not to breathe as the figure stomped around the bathroom trying to do something. All at once the door to the stall began to swing open. Kit froze. He’d not locked it. As it opened further Kit saw the source of the swearing. The guy was huge. 6’6 easily with huge shoulders and a thick neck. He was frantically scrubbing something off his front. Kit prayed he wouldn’t turn around and see him but it was too late. The hulk of a man looked up and saw his reflection in the mirror.

‘Hey man, help a bro out?’ He said as he saw Kit sat on the toilet.

Kit, now spotted, knew he couldn’t get out of this. He stood up and ventured out of the toilet.

‘What happen? Er I mean how happened? I mean . . . (Sigh). What did you do?’ Kit stammered

The bear turned round and the hint of a smile crossed his face, although it didn’t feel unkind. As he turned, Kit saw what was wrong. He’d split a load of marinara sauce down the front of his white shirt. Now Kit could see him fully, he saw how good looking the giant was. He was as tall as he looked with dark messy hair, pale skin with a hint of freckles across his nose and piercing blue eyes. His face was neatly covered in dense stubble which framed his face and made him look incredibly handsome. The man was furiously scrubbing at a large marinara sauce stain that had spread across his crisp white shirt only making it worse.

The man glanced around the bathroom and his eyes landed on Kit again. “Could you give me a hand with this? I’m making it worse.” he asked, his tone surprisingly friendly despite his obvious frustration at himself. Kit froze, unsure how to respond. There was something about his easy confidence and open demeanour that made Kit feel a bit braver.

“Uh, sure,” Kit replied finally, stepping out from behind the stall. Together, they worked on the stain, but it quickly became apparent that it wasn’t coming out. Kit bit his lip, thinking quickly. “You could borrow my sweater?,” he offered hesitantly. “It’s oversized on me so it should fit you!’ Kit’s cheeks went red as he realised what he just said. ‘Shit. Not that you’re oversized, you’re perfect obviously.’

Fortunately for Kit, he ignored his babbling and his face lit up with gratitude. “That would be amazing. Thanks, man.” Without hesitation, he began unbuttoning his ruined shirt. As he pulled it off, Kit couldn’t help but notice his muscular physique. His broad chest and shoulders were covered in a neatly trimmed but strong layer of dark hair, which trailed down to a surprisingly rounded, but muscular furry belly. Kit felt a strange, unexpected attraction stir within him. The contrast of the man’s strong, imposing build and the firm, rounded belly was surprisingly captivating, making Kit’s heart race.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Kit handed over his sweater. He promptly slipped it on, the fabric stretching taut across his chest and stomach. It fit, but only just, highlighting his muscular frame in a way that was both impressive and slightly comical. A slim line of furry flesh visible just above his waistband was distracting. “Perfect fit,” he joked with a wink, his friendly demeanour putting Kit at ease.

“Thanks, Kit,” the man mountain said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver. I owe you one.” Kit managed a shy smile, feeling a strange sense of relief. As quickly as he had come into Kit’s life he was gone again before Kit could say anything.

That evening, Kit lay on his bed in the dim light of his hotel room, unable to stop thinking about the encounter. His mind kept drifting back to the sight of that muscular, rounded belly and the way it had felt to see him so close, so real. There was an undeniable magnetism there, an effortless charm that drew people in and made them feel seen. Kit had never met anyone like him before—someone so full of energy and creativity, who could transform even a mundane bathroom encounter into a moment of genuine connection.

Kit felt a strange mix of admiration and longing, but also confusion. He had known he was gay for a while, but it wasn’t something he had ever bothered to tell anyone. It didn't seem important really. But this attraction, particularly to the man’s firm, rounded belly, was new. He had never thought he could be drawn to a man with a belly, and the intensity of these feelings left him a little unsettled. As he replayed the events of the day, Kit realised that something had awakened in him, a desire to break free from his shell and experience life with the same vibrant intensity. Yet, the novelty of his attraction and the strength of Kit’s introversion, made everything feel even more complicated, leaving Kit with a mix of excitement and uncertainty that he couldn’t quite resolve.

The next morning, after very little sleep, Kit shuffled into the hotel’s breakfast area, still feeling the echoes of his turbulent thoughts from the previous night. He chose a quiet corner table, hoping to remain unnoticed. But as he picked at his food, he felt a sudden presence and looked up to see the same giant from the bathroom striding toward him with a broad smile. Without a hint of hesitation, he plonked himself down at Kit’s table, a plate heaping with scrambled eggs, bacon, and pastries in hand.

“Morning, Kit!” The man’s voice was warm and full of energy. He dug into his plate of food with gusto eating like he hadn’t eaten before, the smell of the rich breakfast filling the air. Kit realised that now was his chance to ask the guy's name. He tried to formulate the words in his head but as if the man were a mind reader he offered his own name. ‘I’m Odin by the way. I know what you’re thinking, but before you ask, my parents were hippies!’

Kit laughed at the confession. With each bite, Kit’s eyes were drawn back to the sight of Odin’s belly, the firm, rounded shape becoming even more pronounced as he continued to eat. The fabric of his shirt stretched tighter over his growing midsection, which seemed to be rounder that last night.

Fortunately, Odin didn’t really need Kit to say much as he chatted animatedly, his enthusiasm making it impossible for Kit to remain withdrawn. He was just very present in the space he occupied and seemingly at ease with everyone. He seemed to not notice Kit’s intense stares or his bumbled words, he just accepted him as he was.

As Odin piled more food onto his plate at the buffet table, and took large, hearty bites, his belly pushed outward, growing more pronounced with every helping. Kit found himself unable to look away, captivated by the way Odin’s midsection seemed to expand and stretch with the volume of food he consumed.

Despite the vast amounts of food Odin consumed, he managed to exude an infectious energy that kept Kit engaged and entertained. Odin’s effortless charm and the way his belly visibly filled out, becoming rounder and firmer, drew Kit in like a magnet. ‘Are you gonna eat that?’ Odin pointed at Kit's uneaten waffle. ‘Take it!’ Kit obliged but Odin had already reached over and taken a bite.

By the end of breakfast, Kit was unexpectedly energised, his thoughts a whirl of admiration and fascination, all thanks to Odin’s remarkable ability to connect and draw him in—even amidst the clamour of a busy buffet. His appetite sated, Odin stretched his arms high into the air in a big display of a stretch. This showed off his well developed biceps and triceps perfectly. As he made the gesture his shirt rode all the way up, exposing the whole of his hairy bloated stomach. Kit made every effort to not let his jaw drop as he got a glimpse of the full glory of his overstuffed middle. The curve of it framed by his muscular torso, his adonis belt still defined at the edges. Odin, apparently oblivious to his belly display, shook himself off and stood. ‘Right. Gotta catch a train see you next year buddy?’ And with that he'd gone leaving Kit with a mind full of questions and visuals he would no doubt be revisiting.

Chapter Two - 2019

A whole year had passed since Kit had last met Odin at the conference. In that time, Kit had spent countless moments scanning rooms at work events, hoping for another chance encounter with the man who had left such an indelible impression on him. Although he hadn't seen Odin, the experience had spurred Kit to work on his own confidence. He attended more networking events, pushed himself out of his comfort zone, and found himself slowly becoming more at ease in social situations. He would use the phrase, ‘Be more Odin’ in the moments where he lacked confidence.

That evening, at the same annual sales conference, Kit's heart nearly stopped when he finally spotted a familiar figure across the room. Odin, looking even more formidable than before, was chatting animatedly with a group of colleagues. His already impressive physique had bulked up considerably; his chest and arms were more massive, and his belly, while still firm and round, was noticeably smaller. As Kit approached, his eyes took in Odin's transformation. The man had clearly dedicated himself to work on his body, his muscles taut and defined under his fitted shirt.

Kit hesitated, his nerves getting the better of him. What if Odin didn’t remember him? What if he was just another face in a sea of conference attendees? What if he would remember him as the nerd who oggled him all through that breakfast. Doubt got the better of him, and he decided to turn away, retreating back into the crowd.

“Kit!” a familiar voice boomed behind him. Kit stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding. He turned around to see Odin striding towards him, a broad smile lighting up his face. “I thought that was you!”

“Odin,” Kit said, his voice a mix of relief and excitement. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“Of course I remember you!” Odin laughed, enveloping Kit in a hug. Kit marvelled at the sheer solidity of his friend’s body pushed up against him. As they pulled apart, Odin’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I’ve got news. Decided to go part-time at work and pursue bodybuilding seriously. Aiming for the Olympics next year.”

Kit’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The Olympics? That’s incredible! I didn’t know body building was an Olympic sport?’

Odin laughed, a deep, resonant sound. “I'm pretty sure it is! Well, it’s a dream of mine anyway. We’ll see how far I get.” His laughter and the casual confidence in his voice were infectious, and Kit couldn’t help but smile back.

Later that night, Odin suggested they hit a nearby bar to catch up properly. As they sat down with their drinks, Kit found himself falling deeper into conversation with Odin. They talked about everything—work, life, and Odin’s rigorous training regime. Kit was in awe of Odin’s dedication and the sheer positivity he radiated.

Midway through the evening, Kit accidentally stepped on a man's foot as he moved to get another drink. The man, clearly drunk and looking for trouble, began to mock Kit loudly. “Watch it, you prick! Can’t even walk straight, huh you fucking piss stain?” Kit felt his face heat up, the familiar sting of embarrassment threatening to ruin his night. But before he could react, Odin was on his feet, towering over the douchebag with an intimidating presence.

“Back off,” Odin growled, his voice low and menacing. “You’ve had enough to drink, and you’re out of line.”

The drunk guy, suddenly realising the size and strength of the man confronting him, backed down immediately, muttering an apology before slinking away. Odin sat back down, his expression softening as he looked at Kit.

“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

Kit nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude and something deeper—admiration, affection, perhaps even something more. “Thanks, Odin. That meant a lot.”

Odin smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Kit’s heart flutter. “Anytime, Kit. You’re a good guy, and nobody should make you feel less than that!’

As the night wore on, Kit found himself hopelessly in love with Odin. The way Odin had stood up for him, the ease with which he navigated life, and the sheer kindness and strength he embodied—it all combined to make Kit realise just how much this man meant to him. By the end of the night, Kit knew he was no longer just looking up to Odin; he was falling for him, deeply and irrevocably.

Chapter Three - 2020

Kit was once again eagerly anticipating the annual sales conference where he could finally meet up with his friend again to see his progress. As the year marched on however, the dreaded covid hit. The conference was cancelled and replaced with a virtual event on Zoom. Kit was both disappointed and relieved—disappointed because he wouldn’t get to see Odin in person, but relieved because he could still potentially see him, even if only on screen.

As the conference began, Kit saw Odin’s name logged on and scanned the various breakout rooms, hoping to spot Odin among the sea of faces. Finally, he found him in a room dedicated to a team-building exercise. Kit quickly joined in, his heart racing with anticipation.

The breakout room was filled with chatter as everyone tried to navigate the awkwardness of virtual icebreakers. Odin’s familiar face appeared on Kit’s screen, and Kit’s breath caught. Odin looked more muscular than ever, his shoulders and chest filling the frame impressively. His biceps bulged as he gestured animatedly, the camera catching every detail of his powerful upper body.

Kit tried to focus on the task at hand, but his eyes kept drifting back to Odin. He was desperate to ask him how the olympic dreams were going but couldn't find an opportune moment. Midway through the session, Odin stood up to grab something off-screen. As he did, his shirt lifted slightly, revealing a glimpse of his belly. Kit’s eyes widened as he saw that Odin’s belly was fully back. It still retained that firm, round shape he remembered but it was a striking difference from the toned hunk he had met last year. The sight of Odin’s much larger belly sent a thrill through Kit, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

Odin, oblivious to the effect he was having on Kit, returned to his seat, readjusting his shirt casually. He then glanced at the camera and sighed, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face.

Later on that day when zoom fatigue was truly setting in, Kit received a private message with a link to a google meet session. “Alright, Kit!’ Odin said sheepishly. ‘I guess you saw how my training has been going!’

With that, Odin stood up again and pulled his shirt up fully, revealing his sizable belly in all its hefty glory. It was much larger than last year, firm and round, jutting out proudly from his otherwise muscular frame. “This,” Odin continued with a chuckle, patting his belly, “is what happens when you mix a love for food with a bit too much fun.”

Kit’s eyes were glued to the screen, his heart pounding. Odin’s nonchalant attitude and confidence as he displayed his body were incredibly captivating. The juxtaposition of his sculpted upper body with his prominent, tight belly was both surprising and intensely arousing for Kit.

“Anyway,” Odin said, sitting back down and readjusting his shirt, “I’m trying to get back on track, but it’s a work in progress.” He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that Kit found both endearing and incredibly attractive. “I’m thinking the Olympics are maybe for another time!’

As the unscheduled breakout session ended and the pair to the main conference zoom, Kit found himself barely able to think straight. His mind kept replaying the moment when Odin’s had shown him his belly. It was so round and inviting. And so perfectly covered in hair! As the event drew to a close, Kit knew one thing for certain: his feelings for Odin had only grown stronger, and he was more determined than ever to find a way to express them. He had a plan.

Part Two here

For more of my stories click here

[mania-sama]

iwaoi, but's it's iwaizumi who had always wanted to leave japan. he found his every day life in miyagi stifling. he hated seeing the same classmates over and over again with their disagreeable opinions and close-minded worldviews, hated the way the people in his neighborhood all knew each other and their business, hated the way it rained and hated the way the sun rose every single day. he hated the very idea of staying in miyagi more than he had to.

he talked to oikawa about this regularly, ever since they could form thoughts that ventured outside of their little realm in japan. first, he told oikawa he'd move out of miyagi. he'd find an apartment in tokyo, or a job as a farmhand in hokkaido, or anywhere else that isn't miyagi and the life he's had to grow up in. then, as he got older, he went a step further.

china, he'd mumble oikawa during the first class of the day in middle school.

the phillippines, he'd shout at oikawa while peppering a volleyball.

somewhere further, he'd finally admitted to oikawa while walking home from a late-night home court game, his gaze trained on the ground with the most vulnerability he'd shown in years. like america. i've applied to a college in america.

oikawa had laughed at him on most times. iwaizumi knew oikawa liked life in miyagi; he got along with his classmates fine, girls liked him, he loved his family and their neighborhood, loved the sunrise and the rain. iwaizumi knew this because oikawa had always disagreed with him on those subjects.

but liking life wasn't enough when oikawa's goals were set further than what he would be constrained to at home. loving japan wasn't enough when japan didn't love him.

argentina, oikawa had whispered, miserable, to him for the first time near the end of their first year in high school. he'd seen kageyama around. he'd seen the way his serves had gotten better and better and better.

their planes left mere weeks from each other. oikawa first, to argentina, with tears in his eyes and a sharp call to not be stranger. iwaizumi left second, wishing his family a farewell with his heart full to finally leave.

iwaizumi had liked california enough. he was entertained, if not occasionally confused, by the manner of young adult americans. he had thought, originally, that he wouldn't miss japan. maybe he'd miss his family and the two friends he'd left, but nothing else. he thought the pang in his chest when his american roommate and newfound friends went out for a chicken wing restaurant and not onigiri, when they spoke exclusively english (sometimes spanish) and not japanese, when there were beds and air mattresses and not futons, that he was missing familiarity, is all. he only missed not feeling out of place.

oikawa had shared with him, over their many calls, his own struggles with homesickness. but, oikawa had told him over grainy Facetime, my team has done everything to make me feel at home. spanish isn't as hard as i thought it'd be! i'm going to make this work. even if i miss you and japan. i just... i need this. i need argentina.

both he and oikawa managed to make it home for christmas after only a few months into their respective journeys into the americas. they arrived at different times, though, so iwaizumi made the trip home from tokyo alone. he took two trains, then a taxi closer to his house. he saw the billboards in his own language. he watched people that looked like himself. they went to restraunts with onigiri. their seating would be chabudai and not high tables and booths. he saw familiar streets and familiar faces in his neighborhood.

he came to his house, where he knew exactly where the patch of grass his childhood cat was buried in the backyard. he could see phantoms of himself riding his bike up and down the road. he could see where he caught butterflies, where oikawa chased him with a handful of worms.

he came home, and his family was waiting for him. it all rushed over him, when he saw them again. all the anxiety of not being able to get to them fast if they got into an accident. constantly wondering what he'd be doing if he was in japan and not at uc-irvine. thinking about how much he preferred his home culture to the strangeness of the united states.

he met with oikawa next, who regaled him on his adventures in argentina as if they hadn't talked nearly everyday since their planes took them away from home.

i'm going to stay, oikawa told him during a late evening stroll after dinner, his eyes alight with happiness and success. i love it in argentina. it's everything i want and need.

iwaizumi was happy for him. but, iwaizumi knew he would not be content doing the same.

i'm coming back home after i get my bachelor's, he told oikawa after a second's pause, letting the coldness of the evening wash over him, watching the sun set in the way he'd spent hating his entire life. america is nice, but japan is where i'm meant to be.

he found that he didn't mind the rain when he was no longer seventeen and hating his classmates. he didn't mind staring out the window of the house he grew up in when he wasn't sixteen and desperate to leave. he'd been to the other side of the fence, and the grass simply wasn't any greener.

and he knew he'd be okay with that, eventually, even if a part of him wondered if he was giving up. even if that part of him wanted to riot and rage and scream at the idea of staying in the place he'd always told everyone he'd leave.

oikawa looked at him, then, with his eyes still bright but shining with a different kind of light. and that's perfectly fine, oikawa said to him, his voice low and earnest.

there was not a hint of condescension. nothing that said, you gave up. you are worth nothing. you will be nothing. oikawa meant it when he said that it was fine that leaving wasn't all iwaizumi had chalked it up to be. his tone said, in every way, nothing has changed. you will be just as good here as you would be anywhere else. you have not given up. there is nothing wrong with letting yourself be happy.

somehow, that was more reassuring than any of the faux comforts he'd been trying to console himself with.

[rafedaddy01]

Summary: reader works at a strip club to pay her bills because she’s a pouge and Rafe and her are old friends but haven’t seen each other in a while. He runs into her while she’s working and requests a private dance to “help her out”

Warnings: no actual smut, lots of sexual tensions, mentions of child abandonment, mentions of death, pervy innuendos

Notes: this was a request. I’m slowly starting to write each one, please be patient with me and don’t forget to comment and reblog!

“Busy night”

“Yeah” you breathlessly laugh as you tie your bra in the back.

“We got some younger guys coming in tonight, families loaded. Make sure you treat them right” you sleazy boss snacks your ass and shoots you a wink before grinning in walking out.

“Pig” you mutter to yourself as you apply some finishing touches to your makeup and fluff up your hair.

***

The lights go out as you enter on stage. The best to the music picks up and a spotlight shines down on you.

You stride over to the pole and start getting to work.

The tiny triangles covering your nipples and the thin thong grip your body in all the right places.

You see the pervy faces of some of the men and take a deep breath, reminding yourself of why your doing this. It’s not easy to make money on the cut and once your brother passed away, your only family left, you had no savings and couldn’t afford college.

You finish up your first set of the night and hear the crowd woo as you twist on your heels and head to the changing rooms.

As you change into your second outfit of the night your boss walks in “someone requested a private dance. Don’t disappoint me.”

You sigh deeply. The last time you got requested for a private dance the jerk tried to rape you, even though it’s totally illegal your boss didn’t do a thing about it. Instead he took your tips from that night to himself, said a whore like you doesn’t deserve to get paid.

You powder your nose and fluff your hair before fixing your white underwear set and heading to one of the private rooms.

In the private rooms there is no cameras. Just a black couch with some plants and a black table. There’s not even a door, just a curtain to conceal the images.

As you walk in there’s a tall man with a muscular physique facing towards the wall, his hands in his pockets.

“Someone request a private dance” you say as you pull the curtain shut.

You turn to the man and your eyes grown in shock.

“I knew it was you”

“Rafe?” You take a step back.

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Me? What are you doing here y/n. In a place like this?” His voice is angry as he takes a step closer, his arm reaching out to grip your upper arm but you pull back.

He scrunches his eyebrows at your reaction.

He takes a deep breath before speaking, “look… I know we haven’t seen each other in years-“

“You abandoned me Rafe, you left me when I had nobody. My brother died and my parents were nowhere to be found and you left me!” Your on the verge of tears but you don’t let them slip, you can’t. He can’t know how much he really hurt you.

“Y/n I’m sorry, please. You have to understand, it was a dark time for me too.” His eyes plead as he looks at you with such compassion and mercy for you to forgive him.

“Please…” he asks again as he steps forward and clasps both of your hands in his.

“It started after my brother died, I had no money and a friend of mine mentioned that her job was hiring. She said they were looking for dancers, and you know how much I used to love to dance. Once I found out what it really was I didn’t want to do it, but she showed me all the money she made from just one night and- and I needed the money. I still do”

Rafe looks at you with a sort of pitty, “don’t do that” you say as you laugh and shake your head, pushing his hands away.

“Do what?” He asks.

“That look, don’t feel bad for me”

“Y/n…”

“No Rafe! Please… just leave.”

You turn around to pull the curtain open when your tugged back by your arm and slammed into his chest.

“Not so fast, I paid for a private dance. I think I deserve one, don’t you?” He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Rafe…”

“Shhh, I’m paying a lot of money. Dance” he positions himself on the couch and watches as you roll your eyes and walk up to him.

His eyes never leave yours as you squat down between his spread legs, placing your hands on both of his thighs and pushing your ass in the air as you slowly stand up and lean in closer to his face “as you wish mister Cameron”

He leans in and you completely push off him and you turn around, wiggling your ass in his face and pearing over your shoulder to see his eyes watching your every move.

You smile to yourself as you sit on his lap, straddling him backwards and grinding your ass onto his groin. His hands come up to your waist and you slap them away “no touching”

He groans as you stand up and straddle him facing him this time. “Your killing me” he speaks out, his voice gruff with arousal as you rock back and forward on his erection. “Touching costs extra” you say slyly as your lean to whisper in his ear, biting the love as you pull away.

Just before your able to face him again he grips the back of your neck and pulls your ear to his lips causing you to gasp. “I’ll pay the damn fee”

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 1

Paring: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 8.8k+

Warnings: (for this chapter) mentions of stress & anxiety, mentions of a broken home, mentions of an ill, disabled parent, mentions of an oxygen tank & medications, jake is an asshole, (if I missed anything, please let me know)

a/n: it's here! i can't begin to express how excited i am to share this with everyone. this story has been in the works for quite some time now, & it's been such a joy to write. i sincerely hope you all love it. please don't be afraid to let me know what you think. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor, & being my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

As you walk up the stone steps of Angell Hall, you feel as though you’re walking into a book filled with ancient Greek Mythology. The pillars that resemble the Parthenon temple, the delicate stone work motifs that portray Athena's owl and Pegasus; you’ve truly never felt more at home than you do at this very moment as you take your first steps inside the building that houses the English Literature courses. The inside is rich with artwork personifying poetry and myth. The intricate neoclassical design of the ceilings, complete with gold leafing and imperial medallions. The most incredible building you’ve ever seen, and one of the many reasons you decided to make the transfer to the University of Michigan.

It’s been no easy feat to get here. In fact, it’s been damn near impossible. It’s by the skin of your teeth that you’re here today, walking the very halls of your dream school.

The road to get here has been hell. Pure, unadulterated hell. You’ve saved every last penny to afford the move here, while trying to take care of your mom and her declining health. It didn’t help that your dad decided it was all too much for him and left a year ago, leaving the two of you alone with hardly the means to afford even the bare necessities. With two full time jobs, online classes at some bullshit university, and tending to your mom’s every need for the last year, it’s a fucking miracle you’re standing here today. 

It’s only been a month since you received your acceptance letter in the mail. You worked your ass off the last two years maintaining a 4.0 gpa to be sure you’d be accepted. You’d applied back in January and waited six excruciating months to hear back, obsessively checking the mail at least three times a day. 

One day, you noticed a rather large, crumpled envelope stuffed in your tiny mailbox. It was wet from a rainstorm that had hit earlier that day, but you could still make out the sender information. 

The University of Michigan

515 East Jefferson St. 

1220 Student Activities Building

Ann Arbor, MI 48109-1316

You knew that the contents of this envelope would seal your fate for the next two years. You were hesitant at first to open, scared of rejection. You let it sit for a few hours before finally ripping it open as quickly as your fingers would allow.

You pulled out the sopping piece of cardstock, stamped with a golden “M” at the top left corner.

Congratulations, y/n! 

You’re in! We are pleased to inform you that you are admitted to the University of Michigan College of Literature, Science and the Arts Junior class entering fall of 2023.

Within two weeks of receiving the letter, you and your mom packed up what little you had and left the sleepy town of Cherry Tree, Oklahoma. 

Up until now, you’d lived in this tiny town your entire life. You’ve been so ready to leave, to find adventure elsewhere that would allow you to spread your wings. You’d been held back there for so long. You knew it was time, and as much as she could, your mother supported your choice to leave and she was eager herself to get away.

You managed to secure a low income apartment in Ann Arbor that has accommodations for those with disabilities. It’s a shithole. But it’s your shithole. 

You’re solely responsible for any and all bills as your mom isn’t fit to work. You’ve got enough saved up to last about a month, so one of your first priorities is to find a job that will sustain you. 

Right now, though, your current goal is to find your first class in this massive building. It’s intimidating. Everyone here is walking past you in a hurry to get where they need to go as you’re stuck, still trying to figure out where room 3182 is. There aren’t signs anywhere to help guide you through the utter maze that is Angell Hall. You haven’t the slightest clue of where to start.

You try asking a few people, only to be met with vague points in general directions, or people simply telling you ‘up stairs.’

Where are the damn stairs? 

You start trekking along in an attempt to find them, when you see a large wooden door that’s cracked open just enough to see, finally, a staircase. 

Some progress.

Making your way to the third floor, you assume you’ve finally found where your class will be when you look at a room number… and it says ‘2548.’ 

Dammit. 

You head back to the stairs to make your way up to the next floor, and to your relief, the class numbers all begin with a three. 

You head down the long, dimly lit hallway in frantic search for room 3182, to no avail. The hallway has so many twists and turns with no guidance for direction. There may as well be a scarecrow with arms pointing in all directions saying ‘this way!’

You’re stuck yet again, unsure of where to go. You assume everyone is in their respective classes as the hall is barren, so there’s not a soul to ask. With only two minutes until class begins, you’re nearing the point of giving up. 

Anything is better than waltzing into class late on your first day, no less your first day at a university where no one knows you. What a fantastic first impression to make.

Suddenly, a man comes barging down the hall towards you. He looks a bit unapproachable, wearing a large brimmed black hat on top of his shoulder length hair, sunglasses that mimic ones worn by John Lennon in the seventies and a matching all black ensemble of linen pants and a button up, with only the last few buttons actually secured. He jingles as he moves due to an obnoxious number of necklaces sitting on his bare chest.

You’re not sure you want to bother him but desperate times call for asking strange men for directions.

“Hi, excuse me. Could you tell me where room-”

Without even acknowledging your basic existence, he seems to be in a hurry as he slams into you, knocking your brown canvas bag off your shoulder and effectively dumping everything out of it. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he quickly turns the corner, not even bothering to help you pick up the mess he’s created.

“John Lennon wannabe motherfucker,” you mutter under your breath as you bend down to gather your belongings. 

You hear footsteps coming closer to you, thinking just maybe he's decided to come back and make amends.

“Sorry about him, girl.” 

You glance up just as she’s kneeling down, offering to help with your scattered books.

“Don’t pay him any mind. He thinks he walks on water,” she says as she helps you shove the last of them in your bag, now all disheveled and out of your perfect order. 

“God, thank you so much. Would you happen to know where room 3182 is? I haven’t the slightest clue where I’m going.” 

“Just keep going down the hall until you reach the bathroom, take a left and it’s the second room on the right,” she says, with a warm smile.

You thank her again and quickly head in that direction.

At last, you breathe a sigh of relief as you approach room 3182.

With a deep breath, you open the door to the massive lecture hall that appears more like an auditorium with its pitched floor.  

All eyes are on you, the room dead silent as the professor glares at you. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I had the worst time-”

“No matter. Just take your seat and do it quickly,” he cuts you off.

You scan the room in search of an empty seat as everyone continues to silently stare at you, eyes burning holes in your soul.

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid.

Finally you spot one on the far right corner of the room. Swiftly heading towards it, you make a horrid discovery.

Mr. John Lennon wannabe is in the seat right next to the empty one. 

Of fucking course.

Grudgingly, you take your seat next to him. He shifts his body slightly away from you as you situate yourself, letting out a long, dramatic sigh once you're settled.

You decide to try and humble him with your southern hospitality, asking his name with a kind smile, to which he only responds by cocking his head in your general direction and not bothering to answer you.

What an ass.

“Now that it seems we finally have everyone here, let’s get things started. Welcome to English 450, The Quest for King Arthur. My name is Dr. Movack and I will be your instructor throughout the semester.” 

You start pulling out all of your books on King Arthur, annoyed that some of them now have bent pages thanks to the mysterious man wearing all black sitting to your left.

“One of the requirements to be accepted in this class, aside from the prerequisite courses, is to have more than just the basic knowledge of Arthurian lore.” Dr. Movack continues, “Taking that into account, there is no need to waste time in starting from the beginning. However, I would like to take a moment to test your knowledge. Each person who answers correctly will receive a point towards extra credit.” 

Dr. Movack begins going around the room, asking everyone basic questions and facts about King Arthur when he finally gets to you.

“I would like you to tell me which text offers the earliest reference to Arthur.” 

With booming confidence, you answer, “I believe it’s around the 7th century when he is briefly mentioned in the poem titled Y Gododdin.”

The John Lennon look alike on your left lets out an obnoxiously loud chuckle while shaking his head.

“Dr. Movack, it’s a well known fact that Arthur isn’t specifically mentioned until Historia Brittonum in the 9th century. She’s clearly wrong,” he blurts out. 

You know your stuff when it comes to this lore. You’ve studied it for the better part of your life and you’ll be damned if you let this man who, for whatever reason has developed a vendetta against you, try to outwit you.

“No, you are wrong. You obviously haven’t read the poem or you’d know he’s named when referencing the bravery of Gwawrddur.”

He waves his palm in your face in an attempt to silence you, the gesture causing your lip to curl in frustration. “Tell her, Dr. Movack. Tell her she’s wrong and has no idea what she’s talking about.” He asserts.

Talking about you instead of to you is a great way to piss you off and he’s on the right path towards it. His refusal to even look at you has you nearly in flames with rage.

“What’s your name, miss?” Dr. Movack asks.

“Y/n,” you respond.

Your heart is thumping out of your chest as you await the professor's response.

“It seems there may be someone here who knows even more than you, Kiszka.” Lennon’s jaw nearly hits the desk beneath him. “Y/n is absolutely right. Y Gododdin does, in fact, mention Arthur. The introduction is so slight that it’s often missed, but scholars argue that this piece does indeed contain the first true reference.” 

Even through his obnoxious sunglasses, you can see the frustration painted on his face. Proving him wrong in front of the whole class serves him right. 

Poetic justice at its finest.

You laugh through your nose and give yourself a metaphorical pat on the back, anticipating more praise from Dr. Movack when he says “However, miss, you will not receive your point for being late to my class.”

Lennon cackles at this, of course, feeling he’s somehow won this educational battle.

He answers his question correctly, receiving his point and commendation from Dr. Movack. 

He sits back in his chair, arms crossed with a smug face, wearing a ‘kiss my ass’ grin on his lips.

You just roll your eyes and look the other direction, envisioning yourself ripping those ridiculous sunglasses off his face. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Something you’re not used to yet, and perhaps will never get used to, is the Detroit traffic. Stuck in your beat to hell ‘92 Firebird in bumper to bumper traffic, you’re at a near standstill as you’re desperate to get home after a long day of classes. What should only be a fifteen minute drive home has already lasted more than thirty, and you’ve hardly moved an inch.

You’re sitting in silence as you don’t even have the luxury of the radio to keep you company. You’re lucky enough that this car even runs with as much shit as it’s been through. A hand-me-down from a hand-me-down, losing parts and gusto after each set of hands it passes through. You figure you’ll be the last to drive it before it meets its timely end in the very near future.  

WIthout much else to preoccupy you at the moment, your mind is wandering with recollection of your first day at the school you’ve had your sights set on since your first comprehensible memory. Feeling like a fish out of water would be the most comfortable way to describe your day. It goes far beyond that. 

You know it’ll take some time to settle. But you’re afraid that time won’t fix the fact that you may not truly belong here. You’ve never really fit in anywhere, even in your tiny hometown that you’d lived in your whole life. You were never fully accepted there, so what makes you think you’d be accepted here? You’d always felt so isolated in Cherry Tree, too small of a town to feel such a way. Now, you have the intimidation of a rather large city to amplify your isolation.

Aside from the nightmare that was finding your first class and the man who made you late to it, your other classes went about as well as you could’ve hoped for. You’d still managed to get lost a fair amount, but on the brightside, you’d found the campus coffee shop so you had been able to stay there for a while this afternoon.

The man, who you can only refer to as Lennon given he so rudely refused to give you his first name, was also studying in the coffee shop today, much to your dismay. 

And the way he’d locked eyes with you for a brief moment before quickly looking away…

You were not sure why, but now, you can’t pry him from your ambulant mind. Something about him, aside from his insolent demeanor, is oddly enticing. He’s dark, almost mystifying. There are secrets in the air he breathes. Whether or not you want to know them, you can’t quite decide. Nonetheless, you’re intrigued.

Traffic finally begins to move at a steady pace, breaking your trance and causing your disoriented image of him to return to one filled with anger.  

Mystifying or not, he was an ass for absolutely no reason. You’ve made up your mind that you will never give him the time of day again. 

You pull into the parking lot of your apartment complex, your car sputtering its cry of exhaustion as you’ve put it to the ultimate test far too many times lately. 

“I need you to hang on just a little longer, old friend.” You say as you throw the gear shift in park. “Just a little longer, then we’ll lay your heaping metal bones to rest.” 

You trek up the stairs to your apartment, stopping at door 264. You smile as you look down to see “Don’t Knock Unless You Brought Wine” stitched on the doormat beneath your feet. Your mom insisted on it, and as ridiculous as you think it is, you’re grateful for the smile it’s brought to your tired face. 

You search through your disarranged canvas bag for your key, silently cursing the fact that it’s not in its designated spot.

Finally spotting the shining silver, you pull it out and twist it in the rusted bolt to open the door.

Your mom is sprawled out on the couch, her oxygen tank filling the quiet apartment with a subtle humming. The living room television is on some old sitcom she loves with the volume muted, as per usual for her.

You don’t want to wake her, as it’s imperative that she gets as much rest these days as she can. You keep as quiet as possible while heading to the kitchen to start dinner for the two of you.

You decide on something simple; bowtie pasta with alfredo and grilled chicken. 

Your mom always had a knack for all things culinary. Her skill remains unmatched, although it’s not as easy for her these days.

You sadly missed out on that trait from her. You’re lucky if you don’t burn the water. But, over the course of her illness becoming increasingly debilitating, you’ve taught yourself some easy and quick recipes to get by. 

You spoon a healthy amount of pasta on each of your plates, even garnishing them with a few basil leaves for a little aesthetic.

You pour yourself a much needed glass of merlot before taking your mom’s plate to her. 

You gently wake her by carefully nudging her hand. 

“Dinners ready, mom. I hope it’s okay.”

She slowly begins to stir awake, looking happy to see you as you sit next to her. “I’m sure it’ll be great. Thank you, sweetie.” You help her to sit up and get stabilized before handing her her plate. “How was your first day?” She tries not to wince as she takes her first bite. Her years of being a culinary expert have made her awfully picky when it comes to food, but she’s never once outwardly complained about your cooking. Although you can tell she’s less than impressed, she would never tell you that. She knows you’re trying your best and she’s so grateful for it, especially since your dad left.

“It was alright, I guess.” You take your first bite and instantly understand her initial aversion to it. Undercooked noodles and over cooked chicken. You’re glad it’s not the other way around this time.

“Just alright?” she asks.

You don’t have the heart to tell her how draining today truly was, so you just tell her that classes were a little stressful but that it really was a great day.

You switch the subject and talk about the beauty of the campus and how badly you wish she could see it. “Maybe someday,” she says.

You want nothing more than to get her out of this dingy apartment for a day and take her around, to show her the wonder of the city. It’s been incredibly difficult watching battle her illness. She seems to grow weaker with each passing day. Although she tries to conceal it from you, you know your mom, and you can see her deteriorate before your very eyes. It breaks your heart in a million pieces, but you still hold out  hope that she will get better someday. 

Hope is all you have.

Until then, you just try to enjoy each and every moment you share with her.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’re situated outside of room 3182 nearly thirty minutes early this morning, drinking your steaming coffee and reading House of Leaves that was assigned to you yesterday in your Classic Horror course. 

The real inescapable horror, however, would be sitting next to him again, so you’re here early to avoid the unnecessary cruelty you faced the other day. 

Taking advantage of your extra time, you allow yourself to become immersed in the daunting novel. 

You read of a man on a slow descent to insanity, discovering a manuscript that details a home that transforms on the inside, yet stays the same on the outside.

Unlit hallways that continue for ages, doors appearing where they hadn’t been before. An architectural conundrum, this house.

The words in the book appear in strange prints, some pages with them upside down, placed in strange patterns; some pages with no words at all.

The word “House” is always in the color blue, even on the cover. 

The novel both fascinates you and terrifies you all at once, having read it twice before. You’ve yet to make your own interpretations on this book as they seem to change with each read. A bit of a mindfuck, as it were.

Just as you’re diving head first into the maddening depths of Danielewski's story, you hear keys jingling followed by the door to the classroom opening. 

You’d been so lost in your book you hadn’t even noticed that most of the students had joined you in the hall, waiting for class to begin.

You’re the first to head inside, much to Dr. Movack’s shock. You take your seat in the front row near the podium, the furthest one away from where you assume Lennon will sit.

The rest of the class piles in, taking their respective seats and gearing up for class. Here comes Lennon, clad in all black once again– sunglasses and all. He walks right past you, humoring you by ignoring your presence. 

Good. Keep walking. 

As more students pile in, you notice one mindlessly walking towards you before he abruptly stops and eyes you in your seat. You simply smile and nod as he stands there with a curious look about him. 

He slowly walks away, leaving you a bit puzzled but you choose to ignore it.

The hands on the antique brass wall clock strike 10:00 am, and you notice Dr. Movack is still out in the hall speaking with someone. Of whom, you can’t quite tell.

You and the rest of the class wait patiently, when finally Dr. Movack walks in, but he’s not alone. He’s with the student who glared strangely at you just moments ago. 

The student is standing near the professor, as if he has something to say, when Dr. Movack clears his throat and begins speaking. 

“I feel I needn't say this, but it’s clear some of you aren’t aware of how things are done around here, so I will say it this once so that we all understand. Once you choose your seat on the first day of class, that becomes your designated seat for the remainder of the semester. It is disruptive to your fellow classmates to decide to take the seat they specifically chose as their throne for learning.”

Your chest tightens and your face becomes flush with unease. 

You know instantly that he’s talking about you. 

“So, I will end this here: if you are not sitting in the spot you chose on the first day of class, I suggest you move to said spot immediately so we can get started with our business.”

Shit.

You’re utterly humiliated as you slowly stand up, you being the only one to stand up and making it abundantly clear to everyone in class that you were the cause of this.

You take your things and move to the spot you so desperately wanted to avoid, right next to Lennon who is covering his mouth with his hand, giggling at your shame.

The student standing by Dr. Movack takes his rightful seat as you take yours.

The class you had been most excited for this semester is quickly turning out to be the one you wished you had never signed up for.

You made a terrible impression on the first day by being late, and now on the second day of this class, you’ve broken an unspoken rule that you had no previous knowledge of. All of that topped off with the man sitting next to you who has made his distaste for you rather clear… the only thought tormenting your mind is how badly you wish you could crawl in a hole and never have to show your face in this class ever again.

“I have an important announcement,” declares Dr. Movack as he takes post behind his podium. “Through the entirety of this course, you will be working on a semester-long project relating to the appropriation of Arthurian legend. This project is fairly at your liberty, meaning there are very few stipulations for you to follow.”

Okay, this is something you can handle. Something to sink your teeth into, something you know you’ll excel at. 

“This will not be a solo project, however.”

Oh no.

“There are exactly fifty students in this class, so you will be paired in twos for a total of twenty five projects.”

Please no.

“As far as who you will be assigned with, that is very simple. The person seated next to you is who you will work with for the remainder of the semester.”

With Lennon being the very last seat in your row, and you being directly next to him, this means…he will  be your partner. For the entire semester. 

You were cursed from the first day you stepped foot in this room and had to sit next to him. Fate would have it so things would not work in your favor, it appears. 

“This project is not to be taken lightly as it is worth sixty percent of your final grade. Everything in this class will lead up to it, so I suggest you take your readings very seriously.”

He will ruin this for you, no fucking doubt. 

He won’t even give you the grace of telling you his first name, and now you have to work on a huge project with him for four months? A project worth more than half of your grade? 

That hole you debated on crawling in is sounding better and better by the minute.

“Well, guess that makes us partners.” To your disbelief, Lennon speaks his first words to you in lieu of his typical 'at you' approach. “The nice thing is that it guarantees me a good grade.” 

“Is that your way of admitting I know more about this than you do, Kiszka?” you snark. He cocks an eyebrow above his black lenses as you dare to utter his last name.  

“Not quite.” He snorts a condescending chuckle, “I can tell you’re the type to work towards the best grade possible, hence, ensuring my success in the process. Shall I thank you now or later?”

Lennon’s got you there.

You take projects like these rather seriously, and this one will be no exception. As much as you’d love to set him up for failure, that would warrant your failure right along with him. 

It’s the perfect scenario for him and a living nightmare for you.

Lovely.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You walk through the open doors of the lecture hall for your next class, spotting yet another familiar face amongst the students, only this one much more kind and welcoming. 

You recognize her as the kind soul who helped you the other day when your bag was senselessly knocked off your shoulder by your favorite Lennon impersonator. 

“Hey!” she says as she notices you, “Come sit next to me!”

You’re nearly taken away by her beauty as you sit beside her, finally able to get a better look at her this time.

Her glowing caramel skin, her eyes light and honest with a sepia tone, her dark brown curls that are unruly yet flawlessly styled, held perfectly on top of her head with the most beautiful satin scarf. 

“Thank you again for helping me the other day. You’re a saint for that.” You hang your book bag on the back of your chair, pulling out its contents for class. “You’ll never believe this, but that guy that slammed into me with no remorse, he’s in my class. The one that he made me so late for. And because of that, we’re partnered together for a semester-long project.” 

“Ah yes, Jake,” she says under a giggle, adjusting her dark green, slouchy sweater off her toned shoulder. “He’s something else, that’s for sure. He’s got a good heart but he covers it with that mysterious, dark facade that he thinks makes him look so cool.” 

Alas, Lennon does have a first name after all. Although, you prefer the nickname you’ve given him. 

“Well, Jake has made it rather clear that I am not his favorite person and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. I’m not sure how we’ll manage to make it through this semester together with his shitty attitude.”

She hums under her breath, slowly shaking her head as if to say ‘just you wait.’

“My name’s Natalia. Where’d you fly in from?”

The way her name rolls off her tongue with her slight accent is nothing short of beautiful.

“Just a miniscule town in Oklahoma. Is it really that obvious that I’m not from here?” you answer in a hushed tone, half embarrassed to admit such a thing.

She grins as she sings a few words from the title track from the beloved Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, showcasing her stark white teeth that compliment her glowing, tanned skin perfectly.

“I hate to tell you Ms. Oklahoma, but you do kind of stick out like a sore thumb,” she quips. 

Having gone from a small, southern town to the outskirts of Detroit, you’re bound to look like an outsider until the culture shock wears off, much to your discontent. 

As much as you wish you could quickly adapt and easily blend in, it’s just not possible. Your face twinges as you remember your first day, specifically that one class you’d care to not mention any further. 

“Welcome, students, to Women in Literature. My name is Dr. Lacey and I’ll be your instructor through the duration of this course.” 

Class begins and you both submerge yourself in a study that’s particularly important to each of you.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“I can’t call you Ms. Oklahoma forever, you know.” 

You and Natalia have the rest of the day free from classes, so you decided to walk with her to the Central Campus library to do some studying.

“I guess you’re right,” you say through a laugh. “My name is y/n.”

You walk across the large courtyard full of lush green grass, intricate steel benches and the most lovely hydrangeas colored a deep purple. 

The Michigan landscape is a far cry from anything you had ever seen in Oklahoma. Everything's so green and flourished, so full of life. Vibrant colors paint the scenery in the most beautiful vision. 

The weather is nearly perfect, with the temperatures never exceeding the mid seventies and the humidity far below the excruciating levels of the southern states. 

You’re in awe as you go day to day with the sheer beauty of the nature that surrounds you. 

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, your curiosity begins to take over your every thought. Jake Kiszka. Your semester-long partner. You need to know more about him, as much as you attempt to relinquish the desire.

You finally build up the courage to ask. “So, how do you know him?”

She looks at you upon your inquiry, squinting her eyes as she studies your face. “Who, Jake?” She says with a sinister grin about her. 

“Yes, Jake. What is it about him that he feels the need to treat people like they’re beneath him?”

“Ah, Sir Jacob,” she says. “He’s a bit of an enigma, I guess you could say. And yes, he is single.” She throws you a wink as you stare at her with utter disgust at her wisecrack.

“I do not care if he’s single,” you respond, causing her to snort a chuckle. 

“I’ve known the guy for years. We go all the way back to the golden days of our youth. He and his twin brother graduated high school a year before me, and their younger brother was a year below me.” A twin? There’s two of him? “I’ve known their family for the better part of my life. Good people, truly. I can’t begin to tell you how much they’ve helped my family and me.”

You’ve only just met him, but the words ‘good’ and ‘Jake’ don’t seem to belong in the same sentence. 

“Incidentally enough, his twin, Josh, and my brother, Malachi, have been partners since they graduated together. So, they’re kind of my family, too.” You walk up the steps to the library as she holds the large wooden door open for you.“I promise you, y/n. He’s not all bad. You’ve just seen what he projects to people he doesn’t know. Like I said, he thinks it makes him look cool.”

Your thoughts momentarily stop as you take your first steps into the library. You’re in shock. Though, you shouldn’t be. Every single building you’ve stepped foot into on this campus is absolutely immaculate, and the library is no exception.

It’s almost bewitching, with thousands of books lining the walls, reaching chandeliers that seem to hang from the clouds at their height. 

The alluring musty scent of aged novels fill your senses and take you back to a time long since forgotten. 

It’ll be far too tempting to spend all of your time here, getting lost in the pages that fill the space of grandeur.

You’ve been stuck in a near trance by the beauty surrounding you, you hadn’t even noticed that Natalia moved behind the circulation desk.

“It’s also his way of keeping his guard up. It’s rare that anyone gets to discover the true Jacob,” she says as she types away at the computer sitting at the desk.

“Um, Natalia?” You quietly ask. “Should you be back there?”

She laughs as she takes in your slightly terrified expression, “Well I would say so, ya know, since it’s the start of my shift.”

“You work here?” How could anyone be so lucky as to work in such an immaculate setting?

“It’s a pretty sweet gig. It’s not the most thrilling job but it’s nice and quiet. I get to spend my days among books, and the tuition break is a pretty nice incentive.” She secures her gold plated magnetic name badge to sweater, making her look rather official.

A job on campus would be utter perfection for you. You’ll be spending a vast majority of your time here anyways, and the tuition break would be a significant help in your situation. 

“Do you happen to know of any other jobs on campus that are hiring?” you ask, almost embarrassed, but you have a feeling you can trust her. “I’m kind of in a pinch to find something soon. Desperate, actually.”

She rests her chin between her index finger and thumb, seeming to ponder your question. “I know of a few,” she says. “One that just so happens to be in this very library, if you’re interested.” Her voice carries an almost sarcastic tone, she knows you’re interested. 

“Oh my god, are you serious? I would love to work here!” you say.

“I figured you would.” She rummages through the credenza and pulls out a sheet of paper entitled ‘Employment Application’ and sets it on the desk in front of you. 

“Go ahead and fill this out, and I’ll consider putting in a good word for you.” She winks at you as she hands you a pen. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Classes have become increasingly difficult. It’s nothing you can’t handle, but you find it hard to make time for much of anything outside of work and school. 

You started your new job at the library one week ago today. You pick up as many shifts as possible, mostly evenings and nights as your days are taken up with your classes. The library stays open until ten o’clock, so most nights you don’t get home until at least ten thirty. 

You set aside a little time after class everyday to run home and take care of your mom before work, making her dinner and being sure her nightly medications are set out before you head back to campus.

As busy as you are, you truly love your job and you’re immensely excited about your studies.

Your friendship with Natalia has bloomed beautifully over the last week. 

You’re so grateful for her. She has been your saving grace lately as this last week has been a bit treacherous. Her companionship has been a major help in your adjustment to this new way of life and your somewhat rigorous schedule.

Jake, on the other hand–well, things are about the same. You’ve set aside your pride a few times this week in an attempt to get along with him for the sake of your project, but he just brushed you off, every single time. 

This project is massive, and not having it started yet, or even having a single idea about what you’ll do with it, is giving you serious anxiety. 

The tension with him seems to grow by the day and you’re almost at the end of your rope with it. You don’t know how to fix it, but you need to figure out something soon so you can bury this unnecessary hatchet and focus on your shared assignment.

–

After running home to make dinner for your mom and tend to a few chores, you make it back to campus just in time to begin your shift.

Tonight, you’re in charge of contacting students with missing books and tacking on late fees to their accounts if necessary. 

You’re sitting at the computer, scrolling through the seemingly endless list of students and calling them to let them know of the fees they’ve accrued. 

Most of them are rather displeased with you upon your notice, some of them even giving you a small piece of their mind before abruptly hanging up on you. 

You make phone call after phone call, trekking through the list organized alphabetically by last name.

At last, you’ve made it to the end of the J’s. Your task for the evening was to make it halfway through the list, and you’re nearly there as you begin contacting students whose last names begin with K. 

Upon reading the name of the next student, your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.

Kiszka, Jacob T (1): Le Morte d’Arthur (Norton Critical Edition) - Mallory

“You can’t be serious,” you mumble.

You debate on ‘accidentally’ skipping him, but you don’t want anything to jeopardize your brand new job.

You have to call him, and you’re not looking forward to it.

You suddenly hear the voice of your boss in the back of your mind, “It’s proper etiquette to always state your name when calling students, so be sure to introduce yourself with each call you make.” 

You quickly make up your mind that you will not mention your name during your call to him. The last thing you need is any more awkward air between you two.

You dial his number and wait, listening to the ominous ringing from the other end. 

Your eyes are pinched shut, your palms sticky with sweat as you secretly hope he doesn’t answer. 

Then, the ringing comes to a stop, “Hello?”

Shit. 

“Is this Jacob?” You use your best professional tone, hoping to disguise your voice as much as you can.

“This is he,” he responds, the statement ending in more of a question.

“Hi, Jacob. This is y/n with the Central Campus Library.”

Fuck.

You throw your head in your hand, mentally cursing yourself for letting your name slip through. Maybe he didn’t notice, you think to yourself.

There’s an uncomfortable silence for a moment before you clear your throat and continue speaking.

“I’m calling about your overdue copy of Le Morte d’Arthur.”

“Y/n? Aren’t you in my class?” he asks.

So much for him not noticing. 

Ignoring his question, you proceed “It looks like you checked it out over the summer and it’s now twenty eight days overdue. Per policy, there has been a fee of seven dollars and fifty cents added to your account. If it is not returned by the thirty one day mark, you will receive anoth-” 

He patronizingly cuts you off before you can finish, “You’re in Movack’s class, huh? You sit right next to me.” 

With a sigh of frustration, you finish telling him that he must return it within three days or he’ll receive a much heftier fee.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll see about that,” he says before hanging up on you. His short tone has infuriated you beyond belief.

“Asshole,” you exclaim as you slam the phone down on the receiver causing a booming echo to erupt throughout the building. Luckily, the only other person here with you is Natalia. She’s been in the back sorting books while you’ve been dealing with overdue rentals.

Her boisterous laughter adds to the echoing bouncing off the walls. “I heard that,” she yells.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’re especially dreading Dr. Movacks class today after your phone call with Jake last night. You know for a fact that things will be even more tense with him today, and you’re just not in the mood to deal with it.

The exhaustion from everything piled on your plate has really begun to set in. Jake is the last thing you want to worry about. With each unpleasant interaction with him, your impatience grows to new levels.

With the support of your large cold brew in hand, you gather the nerve to walk into class. 

“So you work at the library, huh?” Jake says as you take your seat. 

“Yep,” you say in response. You pull out your phone and scroll mindlessly, giving him the hint that you’re less than interested in talking with him.

Class begins, and Dr. Movack starts his lecture on Arthurian timelines. You’re trying to pay close attention, but you find yourself becoming increasingly distracted– by Jake. 

He smells so good– a mix of sandalwood and vanilla. You’ve noticed it before, but for some reason it’s particularly exhilarating today. 

You chalk it up to delusion from fatigue and force yourself to pay attention to the lecture. 

But fuck if it isn’t hard has hell to ignore. 

You reach for your coffee, glancing Jake's way when you make yet another intrusive realization.

The way he grips his pen so tightly– the veins in his hand and forearm protrude in the most captivating way. 

Your eyes slowly follow a trail to his pecks, the curve of them seen just beneath his partially open, black—of course—button down. You watch them tense slightly with each word he writes. 

Dr. Movack ends the lecture and you suddenly realize you’ve been staring far too long.  

“Can I help you?”  

You’re instantly mortified at him catching your stare. Desperate to find any excuse, you happen to see his copy of Le Morte d’Arthur sitting underneath his notebook. Thank god. 

“Your book,” you point to the novel. “You need to return it.” 

He huffs a laugh as he takes his sunglasses off, leaving you stunned. This is the first time you’ve seen his face without their obstruction—and the first time you’ve ever seen his eyes. 

His eyes are kind and warm. They glow amber brown like a glass of whiskey on the rocks, intoxicating you just as the smooth drink would.

“I still have two days, right?”

You saw his lips move, but the sound that came from them was muffled in your head as you’re entirely mesmerized by his eyes.

“Right?” he asserts, breaking you from your trance.

You blink your eyes a few times to bring yourself back to earth as your brain registers what he had said.

“What? Y– yes, you still have two days,” you say. “You know it’s not a required reading until later on in the semester, right? Why do you need it right now?”

“Maybe I wanted to get a head start,” he says while tossing it in his black leather satchel. “Maybe it’s not any of your business.” He swiftly gets up and walks away, leaving you completely frustrated yet again. 

Your journey to your next class feels more like a rigorous trudge. You’re walking fast and hard, stomping your feet with each step as your anger towards Jake exudes through your body. 

Not only are you pissed at his stupid fucking attitude, you’re pissed that you find him so damn attractive. 

How could you possibly find someone like him appealing? Appealing to the eye, yes, but that’s where it stops. He’s a walking rain cloud hovering over you, stealing all the sunshine from your day in only a matter of a single class period. 

You’re impatiently counting the days until this class– until this project– is over and done with so you can move on and live a peaceful existence. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

It’s just about time to close the library and you could not be more ready. The last few days have been incredibly draining. With homework piling up in heaps, multiple tests to study for and working nearly every night, your stress is at an all time high. 

Thankfully, tomorrow is Saturday. This will be your first day off all week and you’re beyond ready for some much needed relaxation. You just need to get through these next five, excruciating minutes.

It’s been awfully quiet tonight and you’re grateful for it since you’re the only one working, but the lack of students has made the shift feel much longer than usual. 

You glance up at the clock that says it’s two minutes until ten. Given you haven’t seen any signs of a student in hours, you figure it would be okay to go ahead and lock up a few minutes early.

Just as you're about to twist the lock on the bolt, someone from the other end hastily turns the knob and pushes open the door with great force, causing you to stumble backwards.

Standing before you with their overdue book in hand, and to your utter disgust, is Jake. 

“We’re closed, Jake.”

He takes a few steps inside as he points behind you at the clock. “According to that, you’re still open for one more minute and I need to return my book.”

Of fucking course he waited until the literal last minute. 

You want nothing more than to turn him away and tell him he’s shit out of luck, but technically, he’s right. He’s entered the building before closing and according to policy, you have to serve him.

Son of a bitch. 

You bring your hand up to rub your forehead, trying to relieve some tension before you begin this process with him. “Follow me,” you say as you head back to the desk.

There’s an awkward silence lingering between you two as you sign into the computer, the only sound being his fingers tapping away at the desk as he impatiently waits for you.

“You could’ve just put it in the drop box outside, you know. They would’ve gotten it on Monday morning,” you tell him.

“Yeah, but then it would’ve been late. I’m not letting you all charge yet another absurd late fee,” he retorts.

“You should’ve turned it in on time, then.” 

You seem to have struck a nerve with him given the way his jaw clenched at your statement. You just can’t bring yourself to care– he’s the one forcing you to stay late when all you want to do is go home and go to bed. 

You go through the return process as quickly as you can. You finish, giving him his copy of the document that states he brought the book back. 

“Thanks,” he says. “Now I would like to check it back out, please.” 

Are you fucking kidding.

You know he’s doing this just to spite you.

You throw your hands down on the keyboard, “Seriously? Why can’t you just come back on Monday?” 

“Because I need it this weekend,” he claims.

“What could you possibly need it for?” Any semblance of patience you may have had left has officially walked out the door.

“Didn’t I tell you it was none of your business?” 

You take a deep breath and push it back out in a long sigh. You just don’t have it in you to argue anymore, so you accept defeat and begin checking it back out to him. 

You don’t say anything as you hand him a pen and the checkout slip for him to sign. He grabs the pen, looking at you with a slight guilt-ridden expression before giving his signature. 

“I’m working on a film with my brother, and I need the book to help him write the script.” This is the first time you’ve ever noted a hint of sincerity in his voice. The features of his face have softened– you can tell this is important to him. 

You flip delicately through the tattered and stained pages of the book. “I have my own copy of this out in my car,” you say. “I’ll just let you borrow mine. It’s in much better condition than this one, anyways.”

He agrees as you take the slip from under his fingers and crumple it, throwing it in the trash can under the desk. He waits a few minutes, letting you lock up. 

Then, he follows closely behind you to your car to retrieve the book.

You bend at the waist to dig for the book in the mess of your backseat. When you do so, you hear him take a deep inhale, and then blow it out in an exhale.

Is he annoyed with you having to dig? Because he can get the fuck over it. 

Just as you hear him clear his throat in impatience, you’ve found the book. You stand and hand him the book, annoyed with him and ready to leave. He thanks you, and you nod, bidding him a hasty ‘good night’… you’re just ready to get home. 

He begins to walk away, but stops and turns back around to face you.

Fuck. You’d been so close to being in the car, on your way home. Dammit.

“This film my brother’s doing,” he says. “Its focus surrounds the adultery of Arthur and Guinevere. He asked me to help him, and I was thinking…” You nod your head to let him know to keep going. “Well, if we both helped him, we could use it for our project.” 

Your interest is certainly piqued. “Yeah, that could work. I’ve written a few scripts and designed theoretical sets for a couple film electives before… so I could definitely do that.”

“He could use more help with all of that for sure, but what he really needs are actors, specifically ones to play Arthur and Guinevere. He’s been begging me to play Arthur and I agreed, but now he’s on my case about finding someone to play Guinevere and, well...” He gestures his arms towards you, signaling that he thinks you should play her. 

“Um…,” you take a minute to figure out how to politely turn him down as you feel a blush rise to your cheeks. You’d never admit it, but just the mere thought of interacting with him so intimately in those roles has your stomach doing weird flips. “Jake… I– I don’t know about that. I’m much better behind the camera, acting just isn’t really my thing.” 

“Just give it a try,” he insists. Why does he seem so adamant? Geez. “And if you hate it, you can do something else. But I think you’d be great at it, really.” He smiles at you, the first time you’ve seen a true, genuine smile from him.

Well, fuck.

You want to say no, you should say no. With how he’s treated you thus far, you don’t owe him anything. But– you can’t deny how it would help your project. And this project in Movack’s class… It's important to you. It would be fantastic to have it to back up your own project… 

And, aside from that, his smile is making it awfully hard to turn him down right now. 

If you were alone, you would have slapped your forehead at the utter chaos in your head, leading to your ultimate decision.

With a little hesitancy, you speak up, “I guess I could stop by. Feel out the role…”

His features seem to lift more at that. You pay it hardly any mind. 

And with his final reply, his velvet-toned voice has a brand new, excited, air to it. “It’ll be really amazing, I promise.” Then, he chuckles, almost to himself. “It’ll definitely be interesting,” he shakes his head, a grin still lifting his cheek. “But really… I think it’ll be great. I know my brother and you will get along. He’s also one hell of a director.” 

Minutes later, as you’re climbing into your driver's seat, you take a few minutes to sit in the silence of your car. 

Trying your damnedest to block out the obnoxious fluorescent lighting of the parking lot, you stare through your windshield into the black night sky. 

And when normally, the blanket of black would bring you a sense of peace and comfort, tonight it’s different. Tonight, you can’t help but feel a burgeoning sense of timidness as you fail to find answers to your new predicament in the night sky.

What in the hell had you just agreed to?

taglist:

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love you all SO MUCH

Le Morte d’Arthur Masterlist

Masterlist

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

I also forgot to ask you in my previous message if it's true that the gift Cove gives you in Happiness after your date is related to the objects we choose for the bedroom?

No worries that you forgot! I like having asks separated like this anyway~

I imagine you're referring to the second gift that Cove gives you? Because if so, then yes, you're correct! In fact, all three gifts that Cove gives the MC over the course of the three outings are based on your choices throughout the game on at least some level.

The first gift, for example, which is given after Cove arrives at the door on the morning of your first outing with him, is dependent on multiple factors. If you've told Cove your favorite flower in Long Day, are at Crush/Love with Cove, and are not dating Baxter, Cove will give you that flower. If instead you're Fond with Cove, dating Baxter, and/or didn't pick a favorite flower in Long Day, then Cove will give you a gift based on your hobby. The hobby chosen is whatever you picked last when talking to Kyra in the Step 2 intro, or whatever you picked last in the Step 3 intro if you chose that you were into new hobbies rather than sticking to the old ones.

The second gift - the one you mentioned - that's given after Cove arrives at the door before the second outing is indeed based on what objects you have in your bedroom. Some objects also take priority over others, with plants and framed paintings being near the bottom.

The third gift that's given after Cove sneaks through the window before the third outing, regardless of if the MC planned a surprise in return or not, is based on your plans for the future. Specifically, if you applied anywhere, are planning on staying local, and if you told Cove or not.

I put below the break what gifts Cove will give the MC for anyone who wants to know/plan ahead:

First Gift (whichever hobby the MC picked last in the Step 2/3 intro if the MC did not tell Cove their favorite flower in Long Day, are at Fond, and/or are dating Baxter)

if Reading - a new book you'd been waiting for

if Fashion - an accessory

if Sports - exercise shoes

if Music - a poster of a band you love

if Games - a new game you'd been waiting for

if Writing - a writing journal

if Media - a physical series collection of a show you love

if Art - a mix pack of new art supplies

if Ocean - a rare shell

Second Gift (depending on the MC's choices for their room; I've listed them in order of the highest to lowest priority, and I've also marked in parentheses which room colors allow for them)

if Ukulele (blue/green/purple) - a ukulele case

if Teddy Bear (any) - a stuffed animal

if Telescope (any) - a telescope lens

if Galaxy Cloth (blue/green) - a star map

if Volleyball (green/yellow) - a volleyball bag

if Candles (purple) - a candle

if Photos/Corkboard (green/yellow) - a photo collection

if Vase (purple) - a vase

if Plants (any) - a potted plant

if Framed Paintings (any) - a painting

if Foot Stool (blue/purple) - a throw pillow

Third Gift (based on plans for the future; note that if you applied for schools and jobs, the game will prioritize school)

if applied for School, are not staying local, and told Cove - a t-shirt with the logo of the college you'd applied to

if applied for a Job, are not staying local, and told Cove - a t-shirt with the logo of the company you'd applied to

if made plans for Travel, are not staying local, and told Cove - a thick pack of postcards and stamps

if other (meaning you either didn't tell Cove your plans, hadn't begun to do anything/only started to prepare for the future in general, or simply planned on staying local) - a mug matching Cove's, stamped with Sunset Bird's town symbol

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesongfics.

Diamonds on the Soles of His Shoes

May Prompt: Song Released in 1986 | Word Count: 2000 | Rating: T | Characters: Eddie, Steve, Robin | CW: Language | Tags: Post S2, Pre S3, Eddie POV, Pre-Steddie, Pre-Platonic Stobin, Eddie & Robin From Band, Graduation Party

For a song released in 1986, I picked Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes by Paul Simon.

Partially hidden behind the trees, Eddie looks at the house, large and looming. Sure, he's been by it before, did a bit of trick-or-treating here in the rich neighborhood, but he's never actually been inside Steve Harrington's house. Never stepped foot over the threshold, beyond those red double doors.

Said doors are standing wide open tonight, inviting the whole world inside. 

Steve Harrington's graduation bash. Everyone's invited. That's been the mantra all week. 

Everyone. 

Eddie's not so sure that everyone really includes him, and he didn't even graduate, anyway. Not even on his second try, and he's dreading the idea of spending a third senior year at Hawkins High. He'd be able to run Hellfire Club for one more year, but that's about it. The silver lining, small and weak, compared to the dark storm cloud that is the prospect of another year in that hell hole. 

He sees a girl from band, Robin Buckley, also lurking and lingering at the edge of the driveway. 

"You goin' in?" Eddie asks, sidling up to her, making her jump.

"Uh, maybe?" she says, but doesn't sound sure about it. 

"You know Steve Harrington?" Eddie asks.

"Only the back of his stupid head," Robin answers, snarkily. 

Eddie laughs, agreeing, "Yeah, same."

But she doesn't move, and he doesn't either, "Why are you here, Robin from Band?" he asks, like that's her legal name.

She doesn't seem to care, just saying, "Reasons," and it's just cryptic enough that he's curious.

"Do you have a crush on Steve Harrington? Gonna make a move before it's too late and he's off at Harvard or Purdue or wherever daddy's money bought him a spot?"

"More like Roane County Technical College," Robin mumbles under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she says, then turns and looks at Eddie, "just. I saw him applying to Scoops Ahoy, you know, the ice cream shop in the new mall? I don't think he's going to college."

"Maybe it's just a summer job," Eddie says, but that doesn't sound convincing even to his own ears. Why would Steve Harrington need a summer job selling ice cream?

"I don't think so," Robin says, and she's holding back. He can tell.

"Spill it, Buckley."

She cuts a look back at the house, then back at him, "Like, okay. You cannot tell anyone I know this, because, like, I took an oath–"

"You took an oath?" he asks.

"Okay, I didn't take an oath. But there was a lecture. A big lecture, about not repeating anything about what I saw cross the guidance counselor's desk, you know? I was her aide, fifth period."

"Okay, well, what did you see?" Eddie asks, because now he's curious. Very, very curious.

"Steve Harrington didn't get in anywhere. Nowhere at all. And now he's trying to sling ice cream all summer. With me."

"No way," Eddie breathes out, loving that he has this dirt on the little rich boy. Harrington's crown has been repeatedly tarnished this year, and Eddie's enjoyed watching the fallout from afar. 

"You didn't answer my first question: Do you have a crush on Steve Harrington?"

"No," Robin says, and Eddie follows her line of sight. Oh, ew. 

She's looking at the instigator of at least ninety-seven percent of the fallout King Steve's suffered, as he's holding court at the front door, like this is his party instead of Steve's. Billy Hargrove, surrounded by girls. Some freshly graduated, like the perpetually tone-deaf Tammy Thompson.

Eddie rolls his eyes. If he had to choose between the lesser of two evils, he'd take Harrington. 

"Hargrove?" Eddie asks, not even trying to hide his disgust at her bad taste, "I don't even really know you, Buckley, but you can definitely do better."

Robin laughs, but it sounds kind of sad, "I'm not interested in Billy Hargrove, either."

Eddie doesn't get it, then. If she's not here for Steve, and she's not looking at Billy, she's looking at…oh. 

No way.

He should have realized, should have seen himself mirrored in her or some shit. But he says nothing. If he's right or wrong, he'll never know, because it's just not discussed. 

"Glad to hear it, Robin From Band," Eddie says, and offers her his arm. "Wanna go in with me, then?"

And he's surprised when she slides her arm through his elbow.

Robin finds some girls she knows from her own class, and Eddie slinks off towards the pool. He can smoke a cigarette and see if there are any customers out there, so he can make a little bit of money, selling off his shittiest weed.

No such luck, it's strangely empty. Pool drained, even if it's getting warm enough for swimming, especially if it's heated. 

Eddie walks over to the diving board, and tests it, making sure it's not too bouncy. He doesn't want to take a header into the empty concrete, that's for damn sure. It seems safe, so he shuffles out until he can sit on the edge.

Lights a cigarette, and swings his feet.

The party inside is loud, and jam-packed, and Eddie is sure coming here was a mistake. There's nothing for him here, not at Steve Harrington's house. He should have rounded up Jeff and Goodie and found something else to do tonight. He's sure Gareth would have hung out, if he could get his mom to extend his curfew.

"What are you doing out there?!" The question comes, so sharp and hard, that it startles Eddie so much he nearly topples into the waterless void.

He grips the edge of the diving board, but loses his lit cigarette into the pool. Into the pile of dry leaves from last fall. Shit.

"Um, trying to burn your house down?" Eddie teases, and when he looks back, Steve Harrington is standing there, annoyed.

"Get off of that," Steve says, arms crossed across his chest like he needs to protect himself. From Eddie? In what world?

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Eddie taunts, batting his eyes.

"Please get off that," Steve says, dry as dust. No humor to be found. Which is odd. Eddie went to school with Steve for a long time, he is funny, as loathe as Eddie is to admit it.

He crawls off it.

"Just let me get my cigaret-"

"Leave it."

"But-"

"Don't go down there, Munson, are you stupid?" Steve snaps, and Eddie takes a step back. He's not stupid, but he's pretty pissed off now.

Eddie narrows his eyes, "Yeah, I have to repeat my senior year for a third time, Harrington, we all know that already," Eddie snaps, but rapidly loses steam. Steve Harrington's face says he didn't know that, not until Eddie told him. 

Fucking idiot, opening his own goddamn big mouth.

"Uh, well, um…" Steve trails off, "I'm sorry? I didn't get into any colleges if that makes you feel better. I was probably one D-minus in Mrs. Click's class from joining you."

"Ms. O'Donnell is the one torturing me," Eddie answers, off-kilter that he's even having this conversation with Steve Harrington.

And Steve smiles, "Yeah, I hear you. I think she only passed me because of my last name."

Eddie is taken aback, Steve Harrington is aware he gets special treatment? Aware of the diamonds on the soles of his shoes, as well as the noses so far up his ass they'll never see sunshine again?

Well, hell. It isn't good ammo to know Steve Harrington can't get into college if Steve's willing to tell him that himself. Kinda takes all the fun out of it.

"Heard you might be the new King of Scoops Ahoy," Eddie teases, and it is teasing, now. Not taunting.

And that must read, because Steve smiles.

"I'll look great in a sailor suit. I hope we get tips, because I'll kill it," Steve says, hands on his hips. But he doesn't look aggressive, he looks amused. 

And Eddie did that. Hot damn.

"What's up with the pool?" Eddie asks, and wishes he hadn't, when the black cloud passes over Steve's face.

"You know, Barb," Steve says, so soft that Eddie almost doesn't hear him.

Eddie's only heard rumors and gossip. That she went missing. That she didn't, and was instead found killed by everything from monsters, to Steve himself. The former seems more plausible than the latter, and isn't that ridiculous? 

"Did she die in your pool?" Eddie asks. Maybe she drowned.

Steve just kind of shrugs, "I don't know. Maybe. Where you were sitting was the last place she was seen alive, though."

"You're shitting me?" Eddie asks, but he's pretty sure Steve's not kidding.

Steve shakes his head. 

"Sorry, I didn't know," Eddie says.

"I know you didn't," Steve says, "it just scared me, seeing you sitting out there. All alone. Sorry if I was a bit of a dick about it."

And hell has frozen over, Steve Harrington is apologizing to him. 

"Um, you weren't. It's okay. Sorry I just made myself at home."

And Steve laughs, "Well, that's fine," he says, waving his arms around, "look at everyone else."

"And why aren't you with everyone else?" Eddie asks.

"Like who? My only friend these days is thirteen-years-old."

"Say what now?" Eddie asks, because that sounds creepy. Is Harrington, like, a pervert now? He'd heard rumors last winter about Harrington hanging around Hargrove's little sister, but he hadn't given them much credence. He knows the rumors that go around about himself, and the vast majority of them have no basis in reality either.

"Long story," Steve says, "long, long, story. I'm, like, his babysitter? Him and a bunch of other street urchins, I guess?"

"You're a babysitter?" Eddie asks, disbelieving.

"It's as shocking to me as it is to you. I'm not bad at it, though," Steve says, and he smiles.

"You're not like…messing with underage girls?"

"Jesus Christ, no, what kind of freak do you take me for?" Steve says, and he sounds so disgusted that Eddie's sure that's the truth.

"Sorry, I had to ask."

"Unless you mean, like, Nance?" Steve asks, brow furrowed, like he's really thinking this through.

"I do not," Eddie says with a laugh, "I thought you were broken up, anyway?"

"We are," Steve says, "definitely. We are. What about you?"

"Am I broken up with Nancy Wheeler? Yep, have been for as long as I can remember, anyway," Eddie snarks, and Steve Harrington laughs. An ugly, open-mouthed bray.

It's dorky, but real.

And Eddie's heart does a thing that he definitely didn't give it permission to do in his chest. Flipping and flopping, all willy-nilly.

He's not supposed to like Steve Harrington. 

Harrington's a rich boy, who doesn't try to hide it. And Eddie's poor as a pocket, with nothing to lose. 

But right now, standing out here in the near dark, he does like him. God help him.

"Word of advice, from one freak to another, stop saying it like that, or people will think you're a perv. Lead with the babysitting part."

Steve nods.

"If none of these people are your friends, why have a party? Why spend money on assholes that don't deserve it?"

Steve shrugs, "Habit, I guess. Won't be like this much longer, though. My dad's pretty mad about college. He's cutting me off."

Eddie blinks. That's…unfathomable, really.

Steve keeps talking.

"So, I got a job at the ice cream place in the mall. To learn my lesson. Earn my keep, whatever. You should come by, I'll hook you up," Steve offers, and Eddie feels insane. That can't possibly be a thing that they'll ever do. 

Then, Steve tries to sweeten the pot, "Pretty sure I'll be wearing a funny hat."

"And working with Robin From Band," Eddie says, and Steve just shrugs, like he doesn't know who that is. 

Poor Harrington, Buckley'll eat him alive, given half the chance.

And maybe, just maybe, Eddie will swing by to see that happen, live and in person.

Free ice cream and a show. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

Notes: Oh, these kids. If they only knew how important they'd all be to each other just a short time later.

[limabean42]

Hello, I like how you characterize Anxiety and I wanted a headcanon with it, here. Romantic Anxiety x reader, she is a new emotion that embodies indifference and so on, simply put, she is the complete opposite of Anxiety, due to their different purpose, they don't get along with each other, they even quarreled a couple of times, but thanks to other emotions, their relationship improved, gradually their relationship became more friendly, after which, later romantic feelings appeared, and they became a couple, now it's hard to imagine what they were when they hated each other, other emotions tease them because of this. Thanks in advance, and sorry if it's too long, I've never been good at writing short 😓

Anxiety growing closer with an indifference! partner

Thanks for requesting! Don’t worry about it being too long, detailed requests are a treat! Hope you enjoy :)

-

• You arrived in headquarters after Anxiety and her gang, a little further into puberty

• The rest of the emotions were confused because you were alone and not accompanied by a batch of new friends

• Anxiety initially had no problem with you although she found your intentions suspicious

• Indifference? What did that mean? Would it get in the way of Riley’s life?

• Just her usual questioning

• She soon realized after you took control of the panel for the first time that you’d be trouble for her

• Riley was in the middle of making a big choice

• Every emotion was eager to get to the panel to decide what happened next

• “Hold on guys, this is where I come in.” You said

• Everyone paused and watched you walk over to the buttons, letting you do your thing

• Anxiety was nervous. No way everyone was entrusting a single emotion in big decision making, she thought

• You pressed some buttons and Riley said, “I’ll think about it.”

• You nodded satisfactorily and moved back from the control panel

• “What was that!?” Anxiety uttered

• “My job.”

• Anxiety felt like she was going to pass out, “Indifference, we’re quite literally talking about our entire future here, this is college!”

• Riley was a sophomore in high school but she was looking at colleges to apply for and what to do already

• “There’s always time to think about the future, there’s no rush to make a decision. College is years away.” You said calmly

• Anxiety ripped a chunk of her hair out

• Everyone looked concerned for her, you just stood there with a blank expression

• This was only the beginning of your little feud

• In the following months you and Anxiety were nothing short of rivals

• You always disagreed about making decisions and even quarreled a couple times

• Sometimes you both grabbed a side of the lever and pulled it back and forth, arguing over a specific choice Riley had to make

• You just wanted things to be serene, choices didn’t always have to be made. Sometimes the best route was no route at all

• You believed that Riley should just sit back and relax because there was no rush to anything

• Anxiety was the exact opposite. She was all about making decisions as fast as possible. Securing Riley’s future one step at a time until there was no future left

• The other emotions were growing tired of this constant battle between you two and finally decided to do something about it

• It was an intervention-like situation

• All the emotions took turns on speaking about how your and Anxiety’s relationship was negatively impacting them and Riley

• You both didn’t mean to cause any trouble, you felt guilty

• You both apologized for feuding and decided it was time to resolve whatever bad blood you had with each other

• You and Anxiety had a quick chat about what you two could work on as far as overcoming your rivalry

• You just wanted her to realize that she didn’t have to rush every plan

• She wanted you to know the importance of decision making

• Once you worked out your issues you both became closer

• And closer

• Everyone was starting to notice how you two were basically inseparable, like best friends

• They were so glad for everyone’s sanity

• However, the change didn’t stop there

• You two never stopped growing closer

• The pair of you became more physically affectionate

• You’d throw flirty disses, teasing became a daily routine

• It definitely crossed the line of flirting at this point

• The others grew suspicious about your relationship. Knowing that it had evolved into a little more than just friendship

• Anxiety went as far as to picture a world without you and it almost sent her into a panic attack, unnoticed by anyone

• She started to think, she’d never felt that way before

• Meanwhile you were feeling confused. Did you like Anxiety as more than a friend? You couldn’t decide

• Eventually Anxiety confided in you about these feelings, she couldn’t hold it back anymore. Every time she thought of it she panicked

• You consoled her, revealing you felt the same feelings, just in a different way

• Anxiety asked if you wanted to pursue a relationship with her

• You wanted to but you didn’t know for sure

• You just couldn’t decide

• Now it was time for Anxiety to tell you to not overthink

• You told her to give you a while to think about it and that you’d get back to her

• She was anxious and sad because she thought you’d never make a decision and forget

•However, a few days later you came to Anxiety telling her yes, you wanted to be her partner

• You said you wanted to take a chance and decided, knowing you could go back if things didn’t work out

• Anxiety was ecstatic

• She would’ve never thought she’d be this close to you ever

• As a couple, you two get along pretty well, despite some differences

• The other emotions were happy to know what was finally going on between you two

• They would tease you saying things like, “Remember when you two couldn’t stand each other?”

• Anxiety blushes every time

• Both of you couldn’t even imagine a time where you weren’t in love

• Anxiety learned that anything could happen at anytime, not everything goes according to plan

• You learned that you have to take risks sometimes and decide on things, even if they seem hard or scary

• You couldn’t be happier that you decided to date her

[grandlinedreams]

Hey hey hey! Your writing captures these characters in ways that I could never. I’ve had this idea wracking my brain, of Ace as a mechanic for some reason- but, hear me out. The shop owner is Whitebeard, and Ace meets Pops daughter when she comes in to help out one day at the shop not knowing who she is, and I honestly think you can bring this vision to life.

Thank-you, it really is an honor to hear that and I appreciate it!! But also BESTIE UR BRAIN MWAH MWAH MWAH that is SUCH a good concept and I hope that I can do it justice!!

[Heads up!: mechanic!au, afab!reader/gendered terms]

ㅡ

It's sheer luck that lands Ace the job. He's been looking for a while now, desperate to land something that pays more than pocket change an hour because even with Sabo and Luffy also employed, they've been barely making ends meet.

He won't tell them that though, swipes bills out of Sabo's hand before his brother can even open them. "Not your job to worry about it," he tells him when Sabo glares. "It's mine."

He doesn't want them to have to worry about things like that, not when Sabo's found a good balance in college and Luffy's finally considering college at all. So when he finds the ad for the position while aimlessly scrolling through one of the many job application sites, he offers up a plea to whatever god might be listening and applies.

And he gets an interview.

The shop, aptly titled 'Whitebeard Mechanics' is surprisingly in the nicer end of town, situated at the very edge just before the road leads into the sprawling heart of stores and gated communities.

The smell of motor oil is what he catches first, the muffled sound of voices overlapping from an open garage bay and undercut by the whirr of machinery.

"Are you Ace?" He pivots to find the speaker watching him, a man with an interesting cut of blond hair and blue eyes that evaluate him in a way that makes Ace's nerves all the worse. When he nods, the man holds a hand out. "I'm Marco, co-owner of the shop."

"Nice to meet you," Ace says, shaking his hand. Marco's grip is firm, his fingers calloused and seemingly permanently stained with axel grease.

"Pops is waiting for you," Marco says, jerking his head for Ace to follow him into the main building. There's a waiting area with worn chairs and a coffee machine set onto a wheeled storage cabinet, the only decor that of a tropical plant in the corner. "He's in his office."

Ace follows his gesture, a door with a shiny gold plaque that labels it as such and swallows, moving towards it. Steeling himself with a breath, Ace steps inside.

The man sitting behind the desk is Edward "Pops" Newgate ㅡ or at least that's what the little desk tag says, and Ace can tell that the older man would tower over him if he stood. 

"You must be Ace," he greets, gesturing to the plush chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat." 

Ace does so, hands resting on his knees to hide the nervous tremor of them as he watches the other man rifle through a folder ㅡ his application.

"Your references are acceptable," Pops says, and tosses his folder down. "Background checks out, no criminal history…" He leans forward, staring at Ace over steepled fingers. "But why do you want the job?"

Ace blinks. The threat of my brothers and I going homeless and hungry is a great motivator, he wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead he thinks for a moment, shaping his words carefully. 

By the time he's done, Pops is smiling. "Congratulations," he says, "you've got the job." 

ㅡ 

Settling into his new job is surprisingly easy. There's a natural camaraderie when there's no hierarchy to be found ㅡ and friendship comes naturally.

So it's to be expected when Ace comes into work and stops by one of the garage bays, he makes a beeline for the pair of familiar boots sticking out from beneath the undercarriage of a vintage car. 

"Marco," he says as he approaches and knocks his own boot against the one closest to him. "You should come out with me and my brothers for drinks sometime." 

He expects the blond to answer and when he doesn't, Ace frowns and nudges his boot again before stepping back when the dolly begins to roll from underneath the car.

It's only then that he realizes that the boots are not Marco's, and the person on the dolly is not his friend. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't kick my feet while I'm working."

Ace stares for all of thirty seconds before his mouth starts working again. "You're a girl," he says and immediately kicks himself for both how dumb he sounds and how your eyes narrow. "I ㅡ no, I just mean ㅡ I've never met you before."

"It's because she only shows up when she wants to," answers Thatch from behind him, and he watches you roll your eyes and scrub a hand against a smear of oil on your cheek as you get up from the dolly. 

"More like whenever dad decides he wants me to come in and lend a hand," you huff, taking the towel that Thatch hands you to wipe your hands off before you turn towards Ace. "So you're the new guy, huh?" 

"Yeah, I'm Ace," he says, mentally patting himself on the back for not stuttering. Your eyes flick over him, assessing him with a curious gleam to your eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Ace. I'm [Name]." Your attention shifts to Thatch as you clap him on the shoulder and begin walking away with him. "Please tell me dad hasn't killed that plant in the lobby while I've been gone." 

Watching you go, it's only then that Ace registers that you've called Pops dad.

ㅡ 

"So…is Pops really your dad?" 

Weeks worth of tentative exchange and working together has afforded him the chance to eat lunch with you when you're at the shop and with the way you look at him over your sandwich, it's clear that you still think he's a little strange. 

"It's what it says on my birth certificate," you answer, and Ace catches himself watching the movement of your mouth as you talk, hurriedly averting his gaze before you can call him out. "Most of the guys are like brothers to me since I've grown up around them. Dad has a habit of pseudo-adopting the people who work for him." 

He knows that well, the parental warmth with which Pops has a way of talking to him making him try not to think about his actual parents. It doesn't matter, not when he has Sabo and Luffy. 

"And what about me?" The question is out of his mouth before he can stop it. "Am I a brother to you?" 

For one horrifying moment, you stare at him as though he's grown two heads ㅡ and then you laugh. Not mocking, not teasing, a full bodied genuine laugh that Ace swears sounds better than anything else he's ever heard. 

"You're still the newbie," you say, but your tone is colored with affection even as you raise an eyebrow. "Thought you already had brothers."

"I do," Ace answers. He's mentioned them to you a couple of times, entertained the idea of introducing you ㅡ and then immediately scrapped it for fear of the resulting potential disaster. 

But he wants to know where he stands with you, aware that his own feelings for you are a little deeper than just that of coworkers. He's also aware that his boss is your father, and that there are a thousand ways this could go very, very wrong. 

Doesn't stop him from wanting to try, though. And it gives him hope for the fact that you're not immediately writing him off, compelling him to continue, "Let me take you out on a date." 

Of all the things you'd expected Ace to follow that up with, asking you out is not one of them. It's rare that anyone isn't spooked off by your circle of pseudo-brothers, and even rarer still that they don't tuck tail and run when your father is involved. 

You should say no. You should make it clear that there's a boundary not meant to be crossed, even without the fact that your father is his boss. But you can't deny that he's grown on you, with his spatter of freckles and loud laugh, a magnetic charm that draws people to him, yourself included. 

"Okay," you say, surprising both him and yourself. "But you better not disappoint me, pretty boy." 

Ace grins. "Wouldn't dream of it." 

[randomprose]

a series of texts/letters/notes that mo guan shan has written for he tian but will never send

note: he tian left after high school

—

xx/xx/xx to: chicken dick [unsent]

are you at wherever the fuck you should be at now? hope your flight was as shitty as your goodbye was

—

xx/xx/xx

Decided to give the old college experience a try after all. The high school teachers did say my grades were good enough to apply to some. Thanks for that I guess by the way. Studying wasn’t so bad when you have help.

Tuition costs are gonna be a bitch though so I’ll have to look for scholarship and shit.

I’m keeping my promise and trying my best to be better.

—

xx-xx 01:09 PM to: chicken dick [unsent]

[photo attached: a black puppy]

ma got a new dog. the mutt followed her from the market after she shooed some bigger dogs picking on it. 

xx-xx 01:10 PM to: chicken dick [unsent]

now it switched to following me around it’s fucking annoying. i have to look where i walk or i’ll step on it and then it’ll cry non-stop. stupid mutt. 

xx-xx 01:10 PM to: chicken dick [unsent]

told ma not to name it or it’ll get attached.

—

xx-xx 10:34 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

[photo attached: a black puppy with an orange collar]

named him tian-tian

—

xx/xx/xx

Got accepted to a university in Shanghai. Food science and tech. It feels so fucking surreal.

Ma cried when we got the acceptance letter. I legit thought it was another rejection but the envelope was different. She opened the letter because my hands were shaking. It came with a fucking scholarship. She’s on the phone now telling all our relatives about it. We’re gonna see Pa tomorrow to tell him.

I wish you were here to open the letter with me too, chicken dick.

—

xx-xx 02:38 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

ma said there’s a chance pa could get out on parole. they’re hopeful but i don’t wanna get my hopes up. 

xx-xx 02:40 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

sorry. idk who else to tell this to.

—

xx/xx/xx

I applied for an athletic scholarship too. Track and field. The one the school gave was just for basic tuition. This one will cover the rest. It helped that I won a couple of track meets in high school. Guess all that running from gang’s in middle school paid off, huh?

Did you ever imagine I’ll be in college with not one but two scholarship? ‘Cause I sure as hell fuckin’ didn’t. Holy fucking shit.

Still gotta work part time though. Living expenses in Shanghai is no joke. Fuck. Do you know how much cong you bing costs here? Don’t even get me started on how much a bowl of noodle is here. Unbefuckinglievable. 

It wasn’t even as good as the one we used to eat at after school. I miss eating xiaomian with you.

—

xx-xx 11:21 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

shanghai is fucking big and confusing. and busy. 

xx-xx 11:30 AM to: chicken dick [unsent]

i missed a station and messed up my train switch.

xx-xx 01:19 PM to: chicken dick [unsent]

it’s fine. i still made it to the campus. lots of rich boys here like you btw. you would’ve fit right in.

—

xx/xx/xx

First years have to live on campus and the dorming system fucking sucks ass. And my roommate was an even bigger dick than you but at least he wasn’t a slob. No one will top you in that department I guess.

Rented a cheaper apartment off campus this year. It’s a shitty studio type, a bit cramped, but I like the privacy. It’s also closer to my part-time job and there’s this elderly couple who lives below me. I help them around sometimes and they give me food. The old landlady is a bit of a hardass though but…I think you would’ve charmed and won her over too, you smarmy ass shithead.

Rent isn’t cheap but it’s not too expensive either. If you were here, we could’ve shared an apartment. A regular one, not the high-end one you used to live in. Better for costs and splitting chores—not that you were any good at them, but you would’ve gotten better if you stayed. I wasn’t gonna tolerate your rich boy ass in college.

I know you had to leave but I wish you stayed instead. Would’ve been less lonely here.

—

xx/xx/xx

Finals exams are coming up and it’s kicking my fucking ass. Between classes and my part-time job I hardly have time to study. It’s a good thing sports training and extra-curricular activities are on pause now. But holy fucking shit why is it so hard to study?? It’s like I’m back in middle school and nothing is going in my head. How did I make it through high school?!

Yeah, yeah. I know. You were there. You tutored me and shit. Whatever, you dick. I don’t know why but it was just easier to focus with you around…but also not. It’s…you’re a distraction, but also you help me focus. Does that makes sense?

I guess what I’m trying to say is…you being around made me want to do better. 

It’s selfish but I wish it was just Jian Yi. I wish I got to keep you here with me.

—

xx/xx/xx

Exams are finally fucking done ended. I think I passed all of them. I have to pass all of them. I wanna graduate next year already. I can't be delayed. I’m so exhausted I feel like my brain is running on fumes. Bet you’ll be all smug and shit because you know you aced all your exams, you fucking smart ass. If you were here I mean. Fuck. I’m hungry but I’m too tired to get up. I want those sandwiches you used to make. If you were here would you make them for me? Would you pat my head and tell me I did a good job? When are you coming back? I miss your stupid smugass face. I miss y—

—

xx/xx/xx

I smoked a cigarette tonight. Just one. I was at a party and someone somehow had real cigarettes instead of a vape or those fancy e-cigarette shit. Does your rich boy ass use those? Or do you still prefer real nicotine? Bet you still smoke sticks you fucking edgelord.

I smoked in the balcony while my friends talked shit. Yeah, I have friends, dick head. You pick a few of those up when you do the college experience apparently. The owner of the house and the host is also my friend. Never imagined my punk ass self to hang out with college kids and get invited to honest to god normal college parties, but, fuck it. Here I am.

Zhengxi was there too. We go to the same university. Don’t think I ever mentioned that before, have I? I’m not sure what he’s taking. I think it was business? Something with a lot of math. I don’t fucking know. He’s…he’s been better. He was a fucking hot mess after Jian Yi left but now he’s…still a mess. Sometimes. I am too. After you left. But he’s trying. I am too. And some days are harder than others.

I don’t really smoke. Just felt like it tonight. Maybe it’s the alcohol (no, I’m not drunk, I barely drank) or the company. Maybe I just missed you and thought this is what you’ll do if you were here.

It was menthol. The cig I smoked. It fell cool in my lungs, calming almost, and I kind of understand why you're addicted to this shit I guess. If I didn’t hate the taste of smoke and the aftertaste maybe I’ll be too.

I didn’t hate it when you were blowing it in my mouth though.

The air in the balcony was cold. The smoke from the cig reminded me how you’d sometimes forget you still have a lighted stick between your fingers and just watch the smoke float up. I finished the stick and stubbed it twice on the ash tray before twisting it. Just like how you put it out.

—

xx/xx/xx

‘will he be sad if i leave?’ you wrote that down in your notebook. Before. In middle school. It was scratched over by ballpoint but the ink was blue and the words were written in black. It’s like you didn’t want to erase it after all. Did you want me to read it, you fuck?

Will I be sad if you leave? Guess what, dick head? I’m fucking devastated. Not really. 🖕