#at least my paycheck is gonna be FAT AS FUCK

[kickbutts-singsongs]

Guess who’s working an eight hour closing shift on Christmas Eve??? 😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃

[macabre-crab]

In preparation of having to work another Black Friday shift tomorrow, I decided to start a collection

[dex-starr]

Oh god right I got work tomorrow fuck me I guess

I’m not used to this office job schedule at all yet

[stevie-petey]

episode one: MADMAX

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.  “I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.  It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything. 

Summary: what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, descriptions of PTSD (slightly), swearing, and general angst and exhaustion

Words: 5.2k

Before you swing in: hello ! welcome back to the rewrite, hope yall are well :) heres chapter 1 of season 2 !!! so so so excited and ready to dive into this new season. things get a bit darker, feelings get even MORE complicated, and poor reader just really needs to take a fat nap and maybe some reassuring words. shes more angsty this season, so buckle up

-

October 29th, 1984

You originally gave Dustin the phone number to Bookstrordinary in case of any emergencies.

Now, you’re really starting to regret it.

For the fifth time this week, Dustin calls you at work to beg for money. Him and the boys recently started going to an arcade that’s opened up in town and have spent practically every day after school there this year. Sure, you don’t mind loaning your brother a few quarters, but at the rate he’s going he’s gonna drain your next paycheck.

Just as you’re thinking this, the phone rings.

Right on cue.

Alex, your coworker, smirks. “How much do you think he’ll ask for this time?”

“If I’m lucky, only a dollar.”

“Will asked me for three tonight, so I wouldn’t jinx anything.”

You gape at Jonathan, who has started hanging around your job after school just to have something to do. “No fucking way.”

“Way,” he laughs, pointing towards the phone on the counter. “Answer before Dustin sends a drone our way.”

You sigh and pick up the phone, which is on its second round of calling, and put on your best customer service voice. “You’ve reached Bookstrordinary, may I ask who is calling?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

“Aw, I’m doing well tonight. Thanks for asking, Dustin.”

“I need five dollars.”

“Ya know, ‘please’ has such a nice ring to it.”

“... if I say please, will you give me the money?”

“No.”

Silence fills the other end. Alex and Jonathan are hunched together, trying to stifle their laughs. You send them a thumbs up, and they give you one back.

“You’re a horrible sister.”

“What!” You scoff at Dustin. “I think you owe me like, at least ten bucks now. Yet you don’t see me complaining.”

A loud groan, then an obnoxious scream. “I promise I’ll clean Mews’ litter box for a week straight if you just give me the money.”

“Tempting, and honestly I’d take you up on that offer, but I already spent my last paycheck on my Halloween costume. You’re outta luck.”

Dustin gasps. “You were gonna say no this whole time? You just wasted like, at least five minutes of my time! I could’ve been digging through the couch for coins by now!”

“Jesus,” you pull the phone away from your face as Dustin continues to shout. Jonathan lets out a loud cackle and Alex just shakes his head. “I can give you some money next week–”

The line cuts off. Dustin has hung up.

What a little shit.

“You remind me why I’m grateful I’m an only child.” Alex says, now walking from behind the counter to begin stacking some books. Technically your shift ended almost thirty minutes ago, but you and Jonathan prefer to hang around for a while. It’s rare to have some time with just the two of you (even if Alex is there as an unfortunate third wheel).

“Glad I can help.” You respond. Once he’s gone, you turn to Jonathan. “And you were right, Dustin indeed wanted more than Will’s measly three bucks.”

He laughs. “Figured as much. The look on your face was genuine disbelief when he asked.”

“Mhm, I’m scared these boys will turn into horrendous teens. The lack of gentlemen in Hawkins these days is astounding.”

“C’mon, I’d say I’m a gentleman. I mean, I’m riding on your bike pegs tonight to keep you safe.” Jonathan says, waving an arm in front of his body as if to present all his gentleman-ness to you.

“Sure, bee.” Although, he has a point. Joyce has the car tonight so she can drive Will to the arcade and Jonathan doesn’t like you biking home in the dark. After what happened last year, none of the Byers are particularly keen on letting their loved ones go off alone at night. So, to ensure your safety, Jonathan has started riding on your bike pegs all the way home.

It’s endearing really, wholly unnecessary, but endearing.

Jonathan flicks your nose. “Who else would be such a gentleman to you? Steve?”

Hearing Steve’s name sends a wave of varying emotions through you. Guilt, shame, remorse, longing. You miss him. You really, really miss him.

“I thought we agreed to stop talking about Steve.” You mumble, now busying yourself with a piece of paper on the counter.

After Will was found last year, you and Steve had gotten really close. He’d spend hours bugging you at work, he’d gotten you such a lovely Christmas gift that still hangs on your wall, and you’d grown close with him in a way you haven’t before with anyone else. He would’ve done anything for you, he cared about you with such genuineness, and you couldn’t handle it.

Summer came and the heat that came with it scared you.

You’d pushed Steve away, severed any connection you had to him. It was easier when you didn’t have to see him every day at school, but ever since junior year started, you’ve been in your own personal hell.

Steve walks past you in the halls without batting an eye. He doesn’t look your way, like the months you spent learning every inch of his wonderfully unique brain and the moles scattered along his face never happened; he doesn’t give you that smile that makes your knees weak. He’s avoided you like the fucking plague, which you can’t blame him for, but it’s only made things more awkward between him, Jonathan, Nancy, and you.

Jonathan sighs. “I’m sorry, bug. I just… he seemed good for you, ya know? I was actually starting to like the guy before you suddenly stopped hanging around him.”

You play with the piece of paper, hoping that if you don’t respond then Jonathan will just drop the subject, but a thought seems to cross his mind.

“Wait a minute. Steve didn’t like, hurt you or anything, right?” You don’t respond again and now he’s starting to get worried. “Y/N, I’m serious. Did he do something to you?”

The irony of the situation is so comical you want to laugh. Here Jonathan is, demanding to know if Steve hurt you and if that’s why you’ve stopped being his friend, when in reality it’d been Jonathan who hurt you. Jonathan, your oldest and dearest friend, is the reason you’re so fucking terrified of letting Steve in. Of falling in love with him.

You’re already in love with Jonathan, you can’t put yourself through any more hurt.

But fuck, you miss Steve. You’d come to rely on him and his obnoxious sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. The way he so effortlessly filled the room with warmth.

“Relax, bee. He didn’t do anything. I just wanted to focus on Will and the boys more.” You lie through your teeth.

He gives you a funny look. “I know you care about the boys, but you know they’d want you to have some other friends.”

“I have you, that’s all I need.”

It’s all I can afford.

“Bug, I’m worried about you. You’ve all but thrown yourself into school, you work non stop here, and when you finally have some free time you’re spending it researching child psych for Will–”

“Just drop it, Jonathan!” You finally snap at your friend.

He stops, surprised by your outburst. He can see the angry flush in your cheeks now and the slight heavy breathing you do to try and calm yourself down. Jonathan drops his shoulders, defeated. He’s been worried about you ever since junior year started. You’re more withdrawn, you look like you haven’t slept at all, and now you don’t even feel comfortable telling him what’s been bothering you.

All Jonathan knows is that one day you were glowing while telling him a story about Steve and his stupid jokes, then the next day you looked frail and sickly as you told him that Steve was no longer visiting you at work.

Something happened between you two, he’s just not sure what or how to even help.

For once, Jonathan is at a loss.

–

“And then she chased Mike all the way down the street for her money! He got away!” Jonathan finishes his story with a grand flourish, laughing and hitting his steering wheel as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

You let out a weak laugh, exhausted from the night before. It’s early morning and you’re in the school parking lot, hanging in Jonathan’s car as always, and you feel like utter shit. You stayed up late last night reading this journal you’d found in the school library about acute trauma in children. It had been fascinating and there were some things you thought could apply to Will. Before you knew it, it had been three in the morning and you needed to be up soon for school.

Which leads you to now: slouched in the passenger seat, sunglasses over your eyes to block out the annoying sun, tiredly listening to Jonathan’s recounting of his phone call with Nancy from last night. Apparently they’ve progressed to nightly phone calls now.

Lovely.

Without meaning to, your eyes start to drift shut. The car is the perfect cozy kind of warm and the late October air wraps around you as if to lull you to sleep. Jonathan notices you’ve gone quiet and pokes your cheek.

“If you fell asleep I’ll tell your mom and she’ll put you back on house arrest.”

You slap his hand away. “Don’t do that, then she’ll just ban me from your house.”

“You were up all night researching again, weren’t you.”

“If you have to ask, then that’s probably your answer.”

“Y/N–”

You put a finger up, using your other hand to rub at your temples. A headache is forming and you’re three seconds away from just skipping first period to nap in the car. “We aren’t doing this again. Drop it.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “I’m your best friend, it’s my job to worry about you–”

“And it’s my job to tell you to fuck off whenever you’re getting on my nerves–”

Suddenly a loud blue camaro comes speeding into the school parking lot, effectively drowning out whatever you’d been saying to Jonathan. The car revs its engine and almost hits a few students as it jerks its tires and then screeches to a halt, parking right next to you guys.

You and Jonathan look at each other.

“What the fuck?” You look out your window and are greeted with the sight of an attractive blond guy staring at you. His music is blasting so loud you can hear it through Jonathan’s windows.

“Jonathan,” you whisper, getting his attention. “Am I really tired or is there a guy with a god awful mullet staring at me right now?”

“He’s real.”

“Cool.” You continue to stare at the guy, unsure what to do. You’ve never seen him before, there’s no way you’d forget a face like that in Hawkins. He’s attractive, almost unappealingly attractive, and there’s a coldness to his beauty that makes you uncomfortable. He looks dangerous, like he knows how much power his beauty brings him.

The boy winks at you, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and then gets out of the car, slamming his door rather harshly. It’s then that you notice the redhead girl, much younger than him, possibly around Dustin’s age, getting out of the car as well. She slams her own door and doesn’t even spare the guy a glance as she drops her skateboard down and rides towards the middle school across the parking lot.

Meanwhile the boy saunters inside, a lazy pace in his step that also holds immense confidence. He’s cocky, cool and collected, and he takes one last look around, as if to survey his new claimed battleground. You notice a few of your classmates gazing at him with interest, which you don’t really understand. He’s hot, but his attitude alone tells you everything you need to know about him.

Once he’s gone, Jonathan finally speaks. “Who was that guy?”

“No clue,” your eyes linger on the doors he’s just walked through. There’s something off about him. “But I don’t think we want to know… C’mon, if we don’t head in now we’ll be late for our first class.”

–

During your lunch period everyone’s buzzing about some upcoming Halloween party. As you’re walking towards your locker with Jonathan, you notice a few pieces of orange paper being passed around. You don’t pay much attention to them, but when Nancy joins you two she eagerly takes a few from the girl passing them out.

Nancy playfully shoves the papers at you and Jonathan. “You guys are totally coming to this.”

“We are?” You ask, eyeing the flyer wearily. You have nothing against parties, but the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of drunk teenagers in horrible costumes is frankly terrifying to you.

“You sure are, Y/N.”

“But Nancy–”

“‘Come and get sheet faced’.” Jonathan reads aloud. “Yeah, Nance. I think we’ll pass.”

Nancy groans. “I can’t let you guys sit all alone on Halloween. That’s just not acceptable.”

“Actually,” you correct her, annoyed by the assumption, “we have a tradition with the boys. We take them out every year to trick or treat and it’s always been fun. We won’t be ‘alone’.”

“No offense, Y/N, but spending Halloween with a bunch of middle schoolers isn’t much better.”

You make a face and look over at Jonathan for help, but he shrugs. “You gotta admit, it is kinda lame.”

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like this–”

Nancy smiles at this. “See? Plus, I doubt trick or treating with the boys will take all night. You’ll be home by 8:00, and Jonathan will be listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something, while you, my dear Y/N, will be baking a fresh batch of cookies and throwing away all the candy corn you find.”

“Sounds like a nice night.” Jonathan responds, and you nudge your shoulder with his. It does sound like a nice night, one you’re looking forward to.

“I forgive you for your earlier betrayal.”

“Guys!” Nancy stops at her locker now, slight frustration in her voice. “Just… Come on! I mean, who knows? You guys might meet someone and–”

Her words are cut off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted in the air and spun around, Steve having snuck up behind her. Nancy now puts all her attention on him, he has his arms wrapped low on her waist and he’s wearing sunglasses inside like some idiot, and your heart hurts. He looks good, too good.

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.

“I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.

It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything.

Steve, as if sensing what you’re thinking, risks a look at you. Your eyes meet his and for a brief second no one else exists anymore. It’s just you and him in the small Hawkins high school hallway, where he’s yours again in a way that’s clouded with “almost” and “not enough”, and you want to tell him how lovely he is and how horrible you feel for hurting him, but then he diverts his gaze and focuses back on Nancy and you’re thrown back into reality.

He isn’t yours. Hell, he isn’t even your friend anymore, and you’re the one to blame.

Once Nancy and Steve start kissing, you share a disgusted look with Jonathan and silently agree to leave.

“Young love, huh?” Jonathan jokes bitterly when you’ve left them behind.

“I hate it.”

And you do.

You’re really starting to hate this whole “love” thing.

–

The only highlight so far this school year has been you and Will growing even closer. When Jonathan told you that Will started seeing the Hawkins Lab people for treatment and to see how he’s been recovering, you pulled Joyce aside later that night to ask if it’d be okay if you spoke with Will yourself. Since everything that happened last year, you’ve only become more interested in psychology, and you’d be lying if you said Will wasn’t an interesting case study.

You told Joyce that you’d been doing your own research, reading journals upon journals, and she made you a deal. You could help Will as long as you also took care of yourself, that you wouldn’t place an even heavier burden upon yourself. Of course you agreed, promising her you wouldn’t, and that’s how your weekly chats with Will began.

Jonathan had been against it at first, telling you that you didn’t have to worry about Will because you already do everything else for the kids. You told him you could handle it, and secretly you liked helping Will because you were able to pour all your anxiety and complex feelings for Steve into research and studying. It was a win-win in your eyes.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Waters had been extremely understanding when you asked for Wednesdays off. After all, you’d been working at Bookstrordinary for almost three years now, so she was quick to make the accommodation.

Now here you are, another Wednesday spent at the Byers’ home. You’re sitting with Will in his bed, the both of you quietly scribbling with his crayons. You’ve learned that he’s more receptive if you draw with him, if you take your time.

“How was Dr. Owens today?”

Will pauses mid-scribble. “Fine.”

“Just ‘fine’? Nothing else?” Your head is down so he doesn’t think you’re studying his reactions, but you keep an eye on him anyways.

“Yeah. I told him about my latest episode.”

“You had another one? Would you like to tell me when?”

Will thinks for a moment, and you tell him that he of course doesn’t have to say anything if he doesn’t want to.

“Last night. I was back in the Upside Down… and there was this… this thing.”

Now you stop drawing. “Like the monster we killed last year?”

“Different,” he shakes his head. “This thing was evil.”

Will’s eyes are darting everywhere around the room, and you can see his growing unease, so you decide to put the topic to rest for now. Clearly the episodes are getting worse, scaring him more, so you shift gears.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry for the episodes, but besides them how have you been feeling? Is school getting any better?” Earlier this month Will had confessed to you about the kids in school calling him “zombie boy” and treating him like a freak. You did your best to comfort him, and once you finished your chat with the boy you’d gone to Joyce to let her know.

Will sighs. “School is… school.”

You reach out and move some hair out of Will’s face. “I’m sorry, little bee. Middle schoolers are idiots, they’ll never understand how much you went through. I mean, I had to face that monster for only about twenty minutes. You had to hide from it for days, so you’re honestly incredibly braver than me.”

This gets a smile out of Will, which you’re relieved by. He’s been quiet lately, more closed off, and you’re worried that with the one year anniversary coming up, his episodes will only get worse.

A knock on the door, and then Jonathan pokes his head in. “Hey, guys. Mind if I join?”

“Actually, I think I should go. Bob’s been begging me for my cookie recipe, so I’ll leave you two alone.” You send a look Will’s way, a you better talk to your brother about this look, and he weakly nods his head.

As you walk past Jonathan out the door, you lean in close to Jonathan and whisper, “he’s struggling at school. Be gentle, kids can be fucking awful.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, silently thanking you, and you close the door behind you. While you want to help Will, make sure he’s adapting well, you also recognize your limits. He’s not your brother, Jonathan is, and you know he’ll be more open with him.

Joyce is in the kitchen with Bob, making some popcorn over the stove. He’s filming her with his ridiculously large camera and you can’t help but smile as you watch them. Joyce looks so happy around the guy, laughing more than she’s laughed in the last five or so years you’ve known her. She deserves this, she deserves a guy like Bob. Sweet, slightly silly, but good.

When Joyce sees you lingering in the doorway, she waves you in. “Hey, honey. Any luck with Will tonight?”

“A bit, he told me some of what’s happening at school. He still seems… off, but at least he was opening up. It’s a good sign.”

Joyce hums, but you can sense that there’s more on her mind. You look around to make sure Bob isn’t near, he’s busy digging through a cabinet to find a clean bowl, so you move closer to the woman and lower your voice. “What did Dr. Owens say this time?”

“Claims we need to just pretend everything is okay, despite the fact that it’s getting worse.”

There’s an edge in Joyce’s voice, so you’re careful with your words. “Well… I think he’s right.”

“You do?” Joyce turns to you, her voice loud with surprise, before she quickly remembers Bob is near and lowers it again. “Why do you think that?”

“I was up late reading a new journal I found about acute trauma in children. It’s been almost a year since Will disappeared, he spent days in complete fear, almost died… I mean, it makes sense that his body is remembering those traumatic effects.”

“So you think we should just leave Will alone, let him suffer through his episodes without any help?” There’s more confusion and fear than anger in Joyce’s voice, and you rest your hand against her arm.

“I know it seems counterintuitive, but the best studies we have all show that we have to let those who suffer from post-traumatic stress adapt at their own pace, through their own ways. They hate feeling pitied, and I have a feeling Will is starting to as well.”

Joyce turns the stove off and shakes her head at you. “You sound like Hop. I thought you hated the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” you chuckle, now helping the woman peel off the foil and sprinkle some salt onto the popcorn. “He just reminds me too much of my dad, and we all know how that ends.”

“Well if you ask me, I think it’s because you two are so similar.”

You gasp. “How dare you!”

Joyce laughs and the seriousness from the previous conversation dissipates. Bob finds a clean bowl and together you and him pour the fresh popcorn in as Joyce prepares the drinks. They’re having a movie night together, and you want to cry because of how adorable it all is. Joyce deserves this.

“You know you’re welcome to join us tonight, Y/N. It’s Will’s turn to choose the movie.” Joyce tells you, but you politely decline.

“Normally I’d love to, but I should get going. I have some homework and I promised Dustin I’d bake him some Halloween treats.”

“Oh!” Bob turns to you. “Speaking of, you promised you’d give me that recipe of yours!”

You and Joyce share an amused look. “You caught me, I did. I’ll write it down right now and you have to swear that no one else will look at this. Deal?”

Bob nods, ecstatic, and you grab a piece of paper and quickly scribble down all the ingredients he’ll need and how to make the cookies. Joyce watches fondly, and you fill with warmth having pleased her. When you’re done, you hand the paper over to Bob and make him cross his heart, just to be extra sure he won’t reveal all your secrets.

“Scout’s honor!”

“Very good then, soldier.” You salute him, and then pull Joyce into a hug. “I really gotta go now. Can you tell Jonathan I said goodbye?”

“Of course, bike home safe, alright?”

You wink at her. “Scout’s honor.”

Bob lets out a loud cackle and you can’t believe that this guy is real, but Joyce is laughing along with him and you’re pleased she’s found someone as endearing and kind as him.

–

As soon as you get home you throw down your backpack and bunker down at the kitchen table. Your mom isn’t back from work yet and Dustin seems to be off somewhere doing god knows what, so it’s just you and Mews for now.

Mews plops herself on the table next to an essay you’ve been working on and you scratch her head as you work. You get lost in your writing, humming softly to yourself, enjoying this small moment of peace.

You won’t admit this to Jonathan, but he’s right. You’ve been overworking yourself, your body aches and your eyes droop with exhaustion almost every day now. But keeping yourself busy is what’s helping you stay afloat. The more you pile onto yourself, the less time you have to think about Steve and his stupid smile and stupid hair and stupid face.

In the middle of one of your sentences, Dustin flings the front door open and scares you. “Jesus, dude!”

He doesn’t spare you a glance, but when he sees Mews on the table with you he suddenly looks a bit alarmed. “Mews is here?”

“Yeah…? She’s helping me with this english essay.” You respond, confused.

“Huh,” Dustin thinks for a second, but seems to shrug it off. “Anyways, I’m home.”

“I can see that.”

“Are you gonna ask about my day?”

“How was your day, my dear brother.”

Dustin hops onto the table and shimmies his shoulders. “I met a girl.”

“What?” You drop your pencil in shock and Mews scatters, your exclaim having frightened her.

“Don’t act too surprised, geesh.” Your brother rolls his eyes, but then he frowns. “Actually, technically speaking I haven’t met her yet, but–”

“You have a crush?” You’re in shock. In your eyes, Dustin is still a baby, no older than six years old. And yet here is he, thirteen and talking to you about a girl.

“Yes, Y/N. Her name is Max, she has red hair and is new, and she’s totally awesome.”

Red hair? You remember seeing that girl in the parking lot earlier today. “Was she with that weird new guy, the one with a mullet?”

Dustin nods, so you poke him in the stomach and ooh at him. “I saw her this morning, she was prettyyyy.”

He shoves your finger away and blushes, which you find adorable. Dustin’s first ever crush, you can’t believe how old he is now.

“Yeah, she’s pretty, but she’s also just awesome. I think she’s the one with the new high score on Dig Dug.”

“Dig Dug?”

Your brother scoffs. “The arcade game the party always plays? Honestly, do you not listen when I tell you about my days?”

“Alright, fine. If you can remember what I told you I did yesterday, then I’ll apologize for not listening better.”

Dustin closes his mouth, unable to recall a thing.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick his hat. “Anyways, since you officially like girls now, I’ve been dying to give you some girl advice.”

“Y/N–” Dustin groans, but you shush him.

“First things first, always be a gentleman. Max does indeed seem cool, but I’m sure she’d appreciate a nice and polite young man like yourself.”

Dustin nods. “Okay, be kind. Got it.”

“Good. Now secondly, we Hendersons are charming people, so just be yourself.”

“Duh,”

“Lastly, if she shows interest, tell her how you feel. Better you’re honest and true about how you feel rather than hide it and sulk.”

Dustin snorts. “Says you.”

You look away from him, slightly hurt. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“C’mon, Y/N. When are you gonna tell Jonathan you love him? I mean, everyone knows you do, it’s about time you confess.” Dustin drones on, unaware of your hurt feelings. “And he’s obviously in love with you, you guys are disgusting to be around–”

“He doesn’t love me back.” You whisper, looking down at your paper. You feel pathetic, confessing this to your little brother.

Dustin freezes, now realizing you’ve gone quiet. He can feel your mood darken and he feels like shit for not noticing it sooner. He’s upset you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought he did, I mean the party and I all assumed…”

His words fade off, and you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. It’s embarrassing, you shouldn’t be pitied like this by your brother. “It’s okay, I know what you meant.”

“Y/N–”

You get up from the table and gather your things, shoving them into your backpack. “I’m gonna finish up this essay in my room, then I promise I’ll start baking those marshmallow puffs you like–”

Dustin jumps down from the table and blocks you from leaving the kitchen. “Jonathan is an ass–”

“Language–”

He doesn’t let you interrupt. “You’re cool, he’s stupid, and I’m here for you. Alright? Don’t make me pull a code blue on you.”

You wrap your brother into your arms, something he hadn’t been expecting, and allow yourself a small laugh. “No need for a code blue, I promise. Just, give me like an hour to sulk and then I’ll be as good as new. Okay?”

When you pull away, Dustin eyes you, but understands he won’t win this argument. The two of you handle your emotions the same way: alone, in solitude, away from prying eyes. He knows you just need some time to yourself, but he still feels like a jerk for upsetting you in the first place. “Fine, but if you’re sulking later I’ll flick your nose.”

You flick his nose and then quickly flee to your room, Dustin not far behind you. “Flicked you first!”

“Not fair!”

You slam your bedroom door and giggle as you lock it. Dustin bangs on the door, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. You tell him you’ll be out as soon as you’re done with your essay, and then go and sit down at your desk. Sighing, you dig into your bag and pull out what you need. Without meaning to, you look up and see your Spider-Man poster, your wonderful Christmas gift from Steve, hanging in front of you.

The small joy you’d been feeling vanishes.

The poster stares back at you, you can almost hear it calling you a pathetic coward, and you feel guilt claw at your throat. You close your eyes, remembering the cold from that winter day, and you can almost smell the cologne Steve had been wearing when you’d thrown yourself into his warmth. Sometimes, if you sit still enough, you think you can feel the ghost of his embrace.

You open your eyes.

Steve isn’t here.

Of course he isn’t here.

You exhale, feeling the familiar ache and exhaustion within you; junior year is looking quite grim.

-

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⌑  taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery

[aideski]

I’ve been thinking about the way SQH is portrayed in the svsss fandom for a hot second now.

Majority of the fandom usually portrays peak lord SQH somewhere along the lines of short, chubby, mousy man, but i have seen lean build SQH— honestly, i’ve seen a lot, and i enjoy all portrayals of peak lord SQH. But what i’ve been mostly thinking about is how airplane is portrayed.

Airplane was a struggling man, we all know that. A struggling man who at first wrote PIDW as a way to vent, but because of the fan’s wants, resorted to writing horrible porn with basically no plot, and PIDW immediately became a bestseller or something (+ squired the most known hater on the face of the earth: peerless cucumber (ok maybe not most known hater ever but you can’t convince that not many people outside of PIDW’s community haven’t at least heard the infamous name peerless cucumber, cmon) )

He was struggling for money, and he said so himself. Like, at first he posted for his own enjoyment, to vent and get his ideas out there, and his story’s weren’t that popular and he barely got any revenue for it. But PIDW was different. It sparked something in readers and it blew up in popularity. Readers didn’t want plot though, they wanted LBH to papapa every woman he possibly could! And how could airplane say no to them, when he needed the money?

Here’s my point: i’ve seen airplane portrayed as chubby or sometimes past that, but i personally, based off airplane’s backstory, i think it could also be the opposite

Yeah sure Shen Yuan, you can take the skinny, lanky stay-at-home guy card if you want, since your backstory is mostly obscure and is mostly fandom-made atp, but i think airplane already has that card. SQH has basically been living paycheck to paycheck as far as we know, so wouldn’t he be less that chubby? Or something

See, i say this from personal experience. If airplane truly was struggling with money and everything, wouldn’t he also have difficulty acquiring food? You don’t just live somewhere and not have to pay for anything: you have to pay for water bills, electricity bills, ac bills, ex cetera ex cetera. And if SQH was posting fat chapters back to back (i think), wouldn’t his electricity bill be pretty high? The money he’d receive from PIDW would have to be first used to pay all of his bills, and then food, and then himself.

Airplane changed his own desires and ideas for PIDW for money. He changed PIDW’s entire course so fans would invest more into the story, for money. Yeah sure call him money-hungry without context to that statement, but based on the way MXTX portrays him, i think he was just trying to survive while writing what he loved. And then he couldn’t even do that because it wasn’t getting enough attention.

imo

I think, if that was the case, airplane would be in the same spot as SY: skinny, lanky, around there. Or maybe even less, underweight. Maybe he had plenty of food before, but something happened, and now he’s in a tight spot with money, and from there he’s lost weight, or maybe he just never had enough to eat from the beginning. At least that’s what i think

In my head, that explains why peak lord SQH is usually portrayed as chubby: now that he has food, and unlimited cash (well, as unlimited as possible without looking suspicious since he’s the An Ding peak lord), he doesn’t want it to go to waste, or something along those lines. What is the system going to do, revoke OOC points? Damn it, he’s the author of this hellhole! And besides, he transmigrated as a baby; what are you gonna do System, revoke me some points because og SQH wasn’t chubby? Fuck that, i can do whatever i want, I wrote him!

(This kinda goes off the rails but because of that when SQH goes out to meet shitty merchants who think they’re better than him peak lord missions fitting of the An Ding peak lord and he sees a child who’s malnutritioned or around those lines, he thinks of himself and automatically takes them to An Ding for a better life)

(This has become such a habit that the Peak Lord are not even phased when SQH randomly says during a monthly peak lord meeting “oh yeah i took in x amount of disciples in recently” and MQF asks to check on them and SQH says “sure yeah and also check if they’re fitting for other peaks while you’re at it” because as much as he loves them and wants to be with them he doesn’t want his all of his children to take on the job he has because fuck, taxes are boring and dealing with YQY is worse… it’s better to deal with LQG not turning in his paperwork than having to deal with YQY’s fake ahh persona, like damn i didn’t know i wrote him so infuriatingly ouch)

(Edit: thanks to that comments that informed me better. people can be fat even without getting any food, and im going to be honest i didn’t know about that, and that’s mostly because of my illinformation. because of genetics, even people with eating disorders/those trying to lose weight can still be overweight due to genetics. sorry guys! but to clarify, this is just a headcanon, and because of that information for this hc SQH doesn’t fall in that pool. sorry if it sounds insensitive, i do have difficulties with how i word things!)

[sharkenedfangs]

To be honest I don't know if Tumblr notifies you when a blog you follow answers an ask at all?- I'm very new to the site and I get a lot of notifications of blogs and things I don't even follow, so not getting one from urs was infuriating! (Sobbing)

Oh my gosh that is so awesome!!! Yess!! It must be so exciting, your writings will be dearly missed, but nothing a good amount of re-reading can't quench for a bit, Also! I can imagine just how happy you must've been like "Ahhh!" I'm gonna just put out there; I 100% think you deserved it! In my experience people usually hate their roomates with a passion so you getting a reccomendation from one must mean you are doing something right! It's buying a cake with the first paycheck worthy imo! :D Now That you word at a pharmacy you can pull a Harper! (jk pls don't)

Being expressive is cute, ye ye! Probably better than getting called "fish" because you had an rbf at least, if it's any consolation! also,ah,one of ur replies to my silly asks said something in the tags like "new pet acquired I apologize I'm not that unhinged I promise! -puppy anon

Mm yeah, that’s weird. I don’t have notifications turned on for any social app except for contacts of people I’ve deemed essential so I kinda forget about these sorta things. Granted, some sometimes complain how late my responses are but it’s never on purpose haha ^^; (I just forget so easily that I might as well have amnesia so if I ever do remember something, it’s a big deal)

I’ll still be writing as much as I can though my attention’s been sucked back into HSR after taking a long break of not playing games for a while. Tryna be of service yet so easily distractible, I really am no fucking better than a dog. Gotta do it if no one will write the filthy shit I write, it’s a sacrifice and I’m happy you like my writing so much lmfao

And great news, I’ve got my first ever laptop (excluding the one I’ve got lent by my college) so I can finally be like the cool writers and write with a keyboard and not be a loser who writes in his notes app

Daddy’s so proud of how fucking fat his baby is that he’s overriding my lap when I place it there

[ghost-cwunch]

Art school sucks: a rant (1/2)

On a good note, I just recently graduated! On a bad note, here's what I learned about art school.

Excuse my stupid use of language I am *extremely* tired and pretty upset.

I'll actually start with the conclusion, in case anyone just wants a TL;DR of the following paragraphs: Art school sucks, because education and art alike should have never been turned into a business.

And no, it's not because of some kind of personal vendetta, or bad teachers (though I've had my fair, fat share of bad art teachers.) but because of the concept itself. As everyone knows education has evolved so much from ancient times, it went from simple information being passed down trough generations and generations, to new discoveries, to arguably a position which is the worst of them all and our current situation... A business. And art school is not exempt of this. Which oh my Hell okay MAYBE it works (to some extent) in other subjects such as science or math or like you know non-abstract concepts- But just think about it. The concept of an art school is *fucked*. Turning education itself into a business just automatically turns the focus from the actual purpose of the concept towards money. What does this result in? I'm pretty sure ya'll already know and I don't want to mansplain, but just for the record and in my opinion, it results in people to see it as a mere source of money. This means teachers see the paycheck, thus pushing students to reach goals that would get them a fatter paycheck (usually good grades, at least here, contests, etc, ((reminder that things like these might not apply to every country))) instead of actually looking to work with the kids. This makes the kids, in return, see school as this systemic thing where they're being pushed around and getting information (useless information at that, some of it) syphoned into their brains. Don't even get me started on all of the issues with verbally or even physically abusive teachers, just plain asshole teachers, etc.

Of course, it varies from country to country but especially here (and from what I know in most countries actually but I digress) art schools are all the same: you get taught specific things in a specific time with a specific deadline- and don't get me started on the people that don't even wanna be in the niche they get put in. That was my case.

Some context: Ever since I was little I was an extremely picky person and obsessed with art, in third grade I already *knew* what kind of art I even wanted to do. It was graphic design. I didn't like painting, and I fucking *hated* architecture. SO I begged my mom to send me to an art school- which she did. She was immediately told that ''yeah we have like a rotation every 3 years because we don't have enough teachers, he's gonna be with the graphics kids, it'll all be good." Guess who didn't end up with ''the graphics kids"? Nah, I got syphoned into plastic arts instead (painting, textile work, irl paint and stuff, nothing digital, no pencilwork, very little graphic techniques etc). Which I fucking hated. Every second of those 7 years, I felt like I've learned absolutely nothing.

[rigatoni-implosion]

I’m going to vent so don’t read

Quitting alcohol is so fucking hard man and like sometimes you can’t even just cold Turkey it I’ve been doing really well but like I went from like a 10 claws surges a night to just like 2 regular claws and I just hope to be able to quit it’s so hard to go without bc I can’t sleep or anything also it helps with the untreated mental illness but like alcohol has kinda ruined my life I was spending upwards to 250 bucks a paycheck on it also like the damage it’s done to my body is awful but also bc I would legit be taking sleeping pills a lot while drunk and that’s just like liver nuke 9000 but like hopefully I’ll be okay I’m trying to just replace some bad habits it’s just rough out here I think I need to get medicated for OCD or at least go back to therapy but like I’m not gonna label myself but I’m going to label myself I’m a fat 23 year old alcoholic woman with untreated OCD CPTSD with a splash of BPD/Histrionic . Is she on the spectrum yes but Anyways yah um I get told I’m sweet by old ladies tho and that’s all that matters

[funnelcloudd]

I’m feeling really demoralized and beat down by everything lately and idk if I’m gonna be able to pull myself out of it this time.

I’m realizing that I had my identity tied to my abuser for so long and I wasn’t allowed to be an adult and now I don’t really know who I am and I’m having to figure that out in my mid 30s which fucking sucks.

I’m incredibly lonely and touch starved but dating is a horrible minefield when you’re fat and ND and I absolutely hate it. I feel like I’m running out of time to find somebody and it scares me. I kind of want a kid but I’m running out of time to do that too.

I’m broke all the fucking time despite making more money than I’ve ever made in my life because I’m paying for school out of pocket and I have 7,000 dollars in credit card debt. On top of all the other bills and basic living expenses I’m constantly having to borrow from paycheck advance apps and I can’t get out of the loop. I’m not even paying rent or anything so it makes it extra embarrassing because despite living with my mom I’m still broke as shit and it’s literally all my fault so I feel bad even whining about it lmao. My brain is not meant for capitalism. I don’t think it’s meant for this world in general.

On top of all that I come on this stupid fucking website which is normally a form of escapism for me and I get wildly misinterpreted by a bunch of people to which I react poorly because I’m fucking autistic and I can’t control my emotions, and nothing makes me feel fucking worse and more attacked than being misunderstood. And then I just don’t even want to interact anymore with communities I thought I was a part of and it makes me feel even more like an alien.

Every social interaction is anxiety inducing and exhausting unless I’m drunk. I get blackout drunk (and spend yet more money I don’t have) at least once a week and it’s slowly destroying my mental and physical health (which were shit to begin with) but I can’t stop and I fucking hate AA and being drunk is the only time I feel like a person.

Idk you ever feel like you don’t belong literally anywhere and you’re not worthy of love and you just wish you would either die or win the lottery so you can go live in the woods for the rest of your life and never talk to anyone ever again? I’m thinking of the warren zevon song “Splendid Isolation” and I’m like yeah man I absolutely fucking get it.

[fina1chase]

I have $3 to my name rn until friday but at least that paycheck is gonna be fat as fuck

[barxism]

Man fuck my job but at least my paycheck is gonna be fat next payday

[down-for-tea]

I let him back in too soon when I said I wouldn't and still fucked everything up.

In my pursuit for not making the same mistake from my ex, I told him I wanted sex at least twice a week, and just last night he admitted it made him feel like a piece of meat.

He pointed out how much of an asshole he would be seen as if he'd said that to me, and like I know he's right. I felt awful.

And then he goes and says I'm making demands of him for sex when he's not even in a committed relationship to me. Like he "likes hanging out" with me, but we're not together? And saying how often I want sex is something that is earned in a relationship.

Like okay, I get the sex thing. I shouldn't have said that, it was totally wrong of me. In my mind, it was a way to feel closer to him, to feel wanted, and I thought sex would be a reason he'd ask to see me instead of me always asking to see him.

But then to just be like "we're not even really together"?

And then, he's like: it's 100% up to you if we continue or not, you just need to keep it professional at work.

And when twice I say, then we should call it because it's easier for me to do that if whatever this is between us isn't a thing, he follows up the second with, why don't you think about it and sleep on it??

He even said my feelings don't matter because the whole thing he started, that I couldn't handle the emotional roller-coaster of, could potentially cost him his job. Like I don't want to cost him his job or survival, but if he thinks I'm going to pick staying with him after all that and he doesn't want to just admit he wants to be with me or call me his girlfriend?

Fuck that. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

I'm not going for a third. I'm gonna just grind and focus on making a fat paycheck.

I hope love will find me soon, and that it'll be someone who can handle how I love, make me feel secure and loved, and who is ready, able, and willing to commit to and love me wholeheartedly the way I do.

I'm so disappointed in myself for not being able to be patient.

I wish I met him at a different time and place.

And now I'm not even allowed to have a bad day at work because management might think its his fault. That's so not fair on me, especially because I wear my heart on my sleeve.

I love this job, and I'm not giving it up for someone I'm not even sure can love me the way I deserve.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

😡🤬ANGER MANAGEMENT (PART 1)🤬😡

Prompt: Y/N has the life she’s always dreamed of: a good house, a nice car, a fat paycheck, her dream job and some loving friends. Her life feels like a fairytale...but just like every fairytale she’s not safe from the villain, the problem with that? He’s not only an incredibly hot Scotsman but also a fucking pain in the ass!

@drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, clit stimulation, angst, dirty talking, cursing, name calling,(possible part 2?Idk)

Notes: I think it’s time for me to face my biggest fear: Drew McIntyre! 😂 all jokes aside, I’ve lost count of how many one shots I have written and soon after deleted about this handsome hunk. There are so many good stories of him out there that I’ve always felt like mine were actually horse shit compared to those so I’ve never had the courage to make this Scottish wet dream an official brand of my writing, but I’m looking forward to achieve new accomplishments on my writing in 2021, so here goes nothing folks! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Oh Thank God! Just the woman I wanted to see”

I turned around to meet Becky Lynch, one of the few dear close friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a massage therapist.

“Hey Becks! What’s up?”

“Y/N I need your help, I was doing some training with the guys when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and now I feel like I wanna cry”

“Oh Becky, c’mon let’s go to my office”

Once we got there I mentioned for her to sit on the massage table.

“So tell me exactly what you were doing”

“I was doing some regular weightlifting, then all of a sudden I felt this sharp pain stretch from my elbow to my shoulder”

“Ok, did you warmed up before hand?”

“Yes”

“Did you added the weights in progressively or were you in some sort of competition against Sheamus, Cesaro and McIntyre as to whom could perform a proper weightlifting faster?” I crooked my eyebrow

“Y/N! You know I would never do that” She tried to hide her shame for being caught

“Becky, I know you! I know how competitive you are and how competitive you GET when you train with Sheamus, Cesaro and the Scottish prick.”

“They started ok?! They said I was no match for them, so I had to make them swallow word by word” She said slightly angry

“Calm down” I chuckled “And I presume you won?”

“Of course I won! As if they stood a chance” She scoffed

I touched her shoulder and palmed the back of her upper arm til I reached her elbow

“And your prize for that my darling is” I looked into her eyes “Six muscular knots, probably some small damage to your elbow nerves resulting in a little trip to the physical therapists and shit ton of pain, congratulations! Are you happy now?”

“Oh no!” She whined “Y/N, please don’t send me to the physical therapists, they will eat my ass off and they’re gonna tell Hunter about this. Please Y/N, please tell me you can fix it?” She stared at me with begging eyes

“Becks” I sighed “I can undo the muscular knots but I ain’t no fairy godmother! If you have some sort of nerve damage that’s up to the physical therapists...there’s nothing I can do about that honey”

“Please Y/N give me some of the red magical relief juice you gave to Kofi” She pleads

“Red magical relief juice?” I asked confused

“Yes, Kofi said he had this horrible pain from an injury and you gave him this red magical relief juice that helped him better than any medicine! Please give that to me too!”

I laughed before answering

“Oh Kofi, Kofi... it’s not an juice, it’s a liquid... a toner. A home made medicine I learned with my grandma. Technically I’m not even allowed to use that, but I know it works, better than these crap versions of Vick’s Vapor Rub” I tossed a little small green package in the trash can.

“Can you give that to me?” She asked with her eyes full of hope

“Fine” I said and she smiles widely

“But, you have to promise me that you will stop with these stupid and senseless competitions! They could permanently damage your nerves you know?!”

“Ok I promise”

I took a small plastic bottle from the cabinet and filled up with some small amount of the toner and placed the bottle inside a small paper bag. I also gave her a little bit of my grandma’s famous ointment in a tiny tin can.

“Alright, so here’s what you’re gonna do: once you get to your hotel room, you’ll take a hot shower and before you put your clothes on, you’re gonna rub the toner from your neck to your elbow all over your shoulder and back upper arm” She nods and I proceed “Then right after you’re going to take a small amount of this ointment” I show her the little tin can “And rub it all over your shoulder, back upper arm and elbow. Right afterwards you get dress with a long sleeve shirt and go to bed. Remember that you cannot leave your skin exposed to the cold air of air conditioning, because if you do it will make your pain and damage way worse! Do you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“If in three to four days you still feel any sort of pain you’re gonna have to go to the physical therapists”

“Ok”

“Becky I’m serious”

“Okay Y/N I got it” She smiles softly

“Good, now please, don’t tell anyone about this” I shook the little bag “And tell Kofi to keep his mouth shut. I know he means well but I could get fired for this”

“My lips are sealed” She pressed her lips in a thin line

“Thank you” I chuckled “Now, go on and take 20 drops of this” I give her some Ibuprofen “And come back in 20 minutes”

“Why?” She asks confused

“Because we still have to undo those knots and it’s not gonna be the fun kind of pain my dear”

“Argh” She groans

One week later

I was finishing tidying up the massage table from the session I just had with Bayley when someone knocked on my office door

“Come on in”

“Hey Y/N” Seth Rollins said in a voice full of pain as he tried to walk towards me

“Seth are you ok? Jesus, you look like somebody just kicked your balls so hard that they went up to your throat! What happened?” I tried to hold back my laugh

“A long story involving Cesaro and Drew. Moral of the story is my back is fucked up, do you think you can help me?”

“Can you lay down here?” I patted the table

“I guess so” He made his way to it excruciatingly slow as I helped him to lay down

“Where’s the pain worst?”

“My lower back” I touched and he gasped in pain

“Do you think you could give me some of that red magical relief juice?” He whispered so only I could hear it.

Of course I wasn’t surprised about him knowing of the “magical relief juice” since he and Becky were together I figured she told him.

“Did Becky told you?”

“Only today, once she saw I was in a tremendous pain...When she was using it I pressed her to tell me who gave it to her but she didn’t wanted to say, she said it was her fairy godmother”

I couldn’t help but smile at Becky’s inside joke and loyalty. I truly love that girl.

“Sure thing Rollins, just please don’t-“

“I won’t tell anyone Y/N don’t worry! Your witchy recipe is safe with me” He chuckled “Ouch fuck, that hurts” He groaned

“Did you bring any jacket on with you?” I laugh

“Yeah Becky told me to”

“Ok, let’s get start it”

Forty minutes and a relaxed thankful Seth Rollins later. I was finishing washing my hands while Seth pulled the zipper of his jacked up. I could feel his eyes on me

“What is it Rollins?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“If the question is if I am a 450 year old witch then my answer is, you will never know” I whisper as I turn to face him with a smirk

He laughs before saying “Well I’m sure you are sweetheart” He winks playfully “But that’s not the question though unfortunately”

“What is it then?”

He looked at me with a sense of caution before asking

“Why do you hate Drew so much?”

“McIntyre? The Scottish prick? The shitty bearded version of Gastón from Beauty and The Beast?” I ask in disbelief

My hatred for Drew McIntyre goes way back to 5 years ago. To make a long story short he has being a pain in my ass every since I started working here. It all resumes to the bad flirting and endless fights. We’ve always fought at least 3 times a week for as long as I can remember. It’s like a weekly ritual for us, and our fights are always petty and ridiculous such as who will get in the elevator first or who will rent the last SUV car.

“Yeah...” He answers slightly embarrassed

“Well that’s simple, he’s an asshole! A smug fucker who thinks he’s the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth and that every woman alive must fall for him in all fours”

“Is there anything else beyond that?” He asks

“No! Of course not!” I lied. As if I could tell him about my deep sexual desire for the Scotsman

“Are you sure? I mean, you must agree with me that he is very beautiful” Seth answers

“I’m not saying he’s not. I have eyes, so trust me, I know he’s hot as fuck and a very handsome man but that doesn’t mean that every woman on this company wants him!” I scoffed

“Does the ‘every woman’ equals Y/N?”

“Why are you asking me this?” I asked aggressively

“Look, there’s no need for you to get all defensive ok? I’m your friend and I’m just asking this as a friend. I’m not coming for you by any means” He says with a soothing voice

“Sorry, it was just my automatic response”

“It’s okay sweetie”

“But Seth...why this question now?”

“Let’s just say that I may or may not have heard some backstage talk and I would like to know this from your own mouth instead of other people’s”

“Backstage talk? About what?” I ask angrily

His eyes widened “You know what? Let’s forget I ever men-“

“No no no Rollins you’ve started this now you will finish it!” Now I was really angry

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut” He murmured

“But you didn’t! So spit it out”

“Ok...I’ve heard one of the girls say that the reason why you hate Drew so much is because you kinda have a hidden want for him to fuck you but since he’s ‘not interested’ you get pissed off” He whispered

“I WHAT??? WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?”

“Y/N please keep your voice down! Somebody is gonna hear you”

“I COULD GIVE TWO FUCKS IF SOMEBODY CAN HEAR ME! Who’ve said that Seth?” I was boiling with rage

“Sweetie, I’m not gonna tell you who’ve said it because I know you will-“

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered

“If you don’t tell me who’ve said that right now Rollins I swear to God on God in heaven that I will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

He gulped

“Now who’ve said that?”

“Carmella” He whispered and I smiled letting go of his collar “Y/N please don’t do anything stupid!” He said as I removed my coat

“Don’t forget to rub the toner on your back once you’re out of the shower” I patted his shoulder and made my way to the door

“Y/N where are you going? Y/N please whatever you’re thinking about doing it, just don’t ok? She’s not worth it! Y/N PLEASE!”

But his screams were now faint as I make my way down the hallway to find the blond gossiper girl.

I finally find Carmella “talking”, to Sheamus in one of the hallways.

“Oi Y/N, how’s life treating ya lass?” Sheamus smiles widely at me, making his usual greeting. At any other day it would’ve made my afternoon happier to find that amazing Irish man, but not today! I was so furious that I ignored him and went directly to Carmella

“Would you mind telling me why the fuck are you not only minding my business but also spreading rumors about me and McIntyre?”

From where I stood I saw Sheamus visibly gulp

“Hey Y/N, what do ya say about we go to tha catering grab some coffee huh?” He said urgently pleading

“So? I’m waiting for an answer” I said to her fully ignoring what he just said

“Well Y/N, from woman to woman, I think we both can agree that it’s no rumor. It’s quite visible, to not say pathetic, the way you can’t deal with rejection my dear” She batted her lashes

“And what exactly are you implying?”

“The obvious Y/N! That you want Drew in between your legs but he doesn’t! I mean, let’s face it, he’s too much of a man for you anyways! It’s not like you can handle him, because we know you can’t” She measured me from head to toe making me feel very conscious about the difference between her slim toned body and my thick one full of curves.

I know that most of the men’s in this company usually date or even have one night stands with women who were body equivalent to their own - slender and beautifully toned - , but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t saw my own curvy beauty. Hell, I even got some dinner invitations from some of the guys! Cesaro, Baron Corbin, Finn Bálor and even Seth Rollins (before he got with Becky) were some of them.

“I bet that I received more dinner invitations in a week than you in a year” I scoffed

“But not from the man you want the most right darling?” She evilly grins and I see red! Pure rage in it’s rawest form took ahold of me and I jumped towards her neck but a pair of strong arms stopped me from attacking her.

“Wow, easy now lass” He said

HIM! The cause of all this gossiping with my name, I couldn’t get even more angry even if I tried.

“Let me go McIntyre!” I roar

“Uh, enjoy it while it lasts Y/N, it’s as far as you’ll ever get anyways” Carmella chuckles

I tried to wiggle out of his arms “What the fuck did you just said bitch? I’ll feed you your own teeth you fuck-“

I couldn’t finish my sentence thanks to Drew, who lifted me off from the floor and tossed me on his shoulder, taking me to back my office.

“What are you doing? Let me go! I’m gonna punch her stupid rat’s face!”

“No you won’t”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m preventing your ass from getting fired!” He answers

I tried to release myself from him, but who was I fooling? The man is a brick wall, I couldn’t let myself go not even if I tried hard!

Once we got into my office he locked the door, placing himself in front of it and released me.

“Don’t you never, EVER, dare to manhandle me like that again! Do you hear me?” I stare at him with my eyes full of rage

“You know Y/N, all that anger is not good for you...you could have a heart attack” He chuckled

I was so mad, that tears of anger rolled down my cheeks as I cut the small distance between us and begin to punch his torso, arms or whatever I could reach

“I HATE YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON WHY I AM NOW A FUCKING BACKSTAGE GOSSIP SUBJECT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU’RE SO FULL OF YOURSELF AREN’T YOU HUH? SHITTY ASS GASTÓN!”

I was starting to loose my strength due to my ferocious attack, and I would be damned if I let him see that...

When suddenly everything changed, the air in the room thickened and I saw myself now pressed against the door with my hands forcefully pinned on top of my head.

“Aww, that was sweet princess” He smirks confidently

“What are you doing Drew? Let me go” I murmured

“Oh it’s Drew now huh? Why the sudden change love? What happened with ‘Scottish prick, asshole and Gastón’?” He cackled “What’s wrong princess? Not feeling so confident and in charge anymore are we?” He pouts

“You’re hurting me” I lied

“Nu uh, we both know that, that’s a lie. I know you Y/N, every inch of you so don’t you lie to me now! That’s not what pretty little girls like you do” He reprimanded me

I felt confused and slightly turned on by his whole dominant character. But still I felt the urge to fight back.

“And what do you know about me McIntyre? NOTHING! So don’t YOU dare to pretend that you do! You know nothing about who I am or my needs, so quit the act”

He laughed before saying “And that’s where you’re wrong princess” He towered over me, securing my wrists with one of his hands while the other grabbed my cheeks making my lips pout(like one would with a child) and tilted my head up to meet his blue gaze.

“You see Y/N, we’ve known each other for what? 5 years? I’ve done a lot of observing in those years... I became quite good at reading you” He leaned forward..his beard,lips and mustache brushing against my own lips

“So I know for a fact that what triggered you into fighting Carmella wasn’t what she said...But the fact that what she said is true” He searched my eyes for confirmation and when he found it he smirks in appreciation

A murmured ‘Fuck you’ came out of my lips the best way I could since he had this vicious grip on my cheeks.

“Oh Y/N, Y/N... what am I going to do with you princess?” He asks amused as he release my cheeks “I must say though... I agree with almost everything Carmella said” He vaguely added

Pure humiliation filled me, the thought of him knowing that deep down I had a thing for him which wasn’t reciprocal at all made my stomach turn. I felt the tears of humiliation start to rise to my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see that he had broken me. Instead I reached for the safety of the one thing I knew I could do: fight!

“You let me go right now you fucker or I swear you will regret it!” I said as threatening as I could

“Oh my, won’t you look at that? Kitty has claws huh?” He chuckled lightly

I took advantage of his distraction and yanked my arms as fast as I could out of his grip. The action caught him by surprise, giving me the upper hand to turn around to unlock the door so I could leave. But his surprise didn’t last long as for he saw what I was about to do and pressed me against the door once more, instead now my back was the one facing him so he pressed his semi hard bulge up against my ass with my hands and face now pressed on the wooden door.

“Where do you think you are going princess? We’re not done talking just yet” He whispers in my ear, making my whole body shiver.

“As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me” His lips were glued to my ear “I almost, I said almost, agree with everything that she said..except for one thing”

“If you’re gonna say that-“

“Maybe I’ll have to buy you a ball gag, since you don’t seem to ever know when to shut up...or maybe I should choke you instead,what do you say?”

I gulped loudly

“Or even better, I should fuck your mouth..bury my cock so deep on your throat that you will have no other option but drool all over yourself” He pressed his bulge harder against my ass “, that will make you shut up! I can already imagine how gorgeous you will look with my cock shoved down your throat” He moaned “Would you like that princess? Would you like for me to show you where’s your place? Where you really belong?” He grinds his erection on my ass and the feeling makes me moan softly

“Drew...” I pleaded

“The only thing I don’t agree with Carmella” He continues his previous statement ignoring my plea “Is that I’m too much of a man for you. To be honest I think you’re the only woman in this company who can actually handle me! The only one who will love and beg to be fucked faster and rougher..” His hands let go of my wrists and roam down to cup my breasts roughly, pulling me even closer to his body

“The only one who is the perfect fit for me...who will let me use every single hole as I please” He bites my ear making me gasp for more air.

“Won’t you Y/N? Do you want me to use you like the good little whore that you are?”

My head was buzzing with excitement, I could feel the now very wet pool of desire in between my legs. To think that all of my darkest fantasies with this man were about to come true made me moan a faint ‘Yes’ to him

He grunts at my positive response while one of his big hands unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans so his hand could sink down the fabric to find my very wet core.

“Hmmm I’ve been waiting 5 years for this lass...Fuck, you already feel amazing on my hand I can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy around my cock” He growls

“Fuck Drew, please” I whisper

“It’s Sir to you, my good little pet” He smirked “Now tell me, do you think I should fuck you right here, right now so that everyone in this company can hear me make you my fuck toy or should we head back to the hotel? What do you say pet?” He asks as his fingers firmly circles my clit making my legs shake

“W- Whatever pleases you Sir” I stuttered

“I see you’re a quick learner huh?” He chuckles amused “I say, let’s show this roster who is the only woman who can properly handle me” He says as he removed his fingers from my core and licked them clean while staring at me. I softly moan to that scene and he smiles deviously before whispering

“Strip now pet and show what a beautiful fuck toy you are for Sir”

To be continued...

Please let me know if you would like to see a part 2 🥺?

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I wrote this months ago and let it sit on the shelf. I’m finally ready to dust it off and give it another go...so let’s see what it do...

Part iii - Trifecta

Torren Sykes hadn’t lived what anyone would consider an exciting life. In fact, in her twenty-three years, she had only just left her mom’s double-wide trailer in East Bumble Fuck less than a year ago. Not quite 365 days later, she still didn’t have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of.

Truthfully, she usually didn’t know where she would be getting her next meal - that sort of thing wasn’t really a big deal to her. She actually liked the mystery of it all. There was something undeniably sexy about not knowing what the day would bring - who she would run into, or have to take something off of to survive. If someone else had to get hurt so she could make it through another day, such was life. She’d won. Those other people just needed to be better at playing the fucking game, plain and simple. 

Besides, pulling a caper or two kept her on her toes. She learned how to pull off the best of them from her mother. It’s not like adulting was one of Leslie’s strong suits. 

If only her mother had been more like her Me-Maw, now that woman was a saint. For reasons that Torren never cared to ask, she lived with her Me-Maw until she was five years old.  Leslie would periodically visit her to drop off the obligatory present on Christmas or her birthday if that bitch remembered. Not that they were ever good presents – just some cheap ass, unwrapped items she happened to pick up at the dollar store. Torren couldn't remember a gift that she had received wasn't still in the plastic bag with the receipt in it.

Cheap, whore.

Just once she would have liked a real baby doll from Toys-R-Us, instead of those cheap, hard, plastic dolls that the hand molds weren't cut out evenly, and the jagged edges cut the shit out of her face when she tried to sleep with it. But, that was Leslie. Torren didn't choose her; Leslie sure as shit didn't choose her daughter.

It became painfully clear to Torren that her mother didn’t want anything to do with her after her Me-Maw died. Unfortunately, she found herself as her mother’s unwitting roommate at a very young age, forcing the girl to spend a lot of time alone. 

By the time she turned nine, Torren was convinced that her mother was a prostitute and she was a trick baby. It was the only explanation she could come up with seeing as how her mother never worked but always had enough money to pay the rent, keep the lights on, and have plenty of booze, chips, and hot dogs in the fridge. 

Not that Torren had many other life experiences with a working parent to compare her situation to, but it just seemed pretty fucking difficult to have a job if one were passed out drunk all the fucking time. Besides, who had time to work when during your waking hours you were spending them with one of your many, many boyfriends? 

Torren used to wonder if one of the multitudes of men that would traipse in and out of that trailer were her father - but the more she got to know what type of person Leslie was, the more she realized that whoever that guy was, had gotten the hell out of dodge. 

Lucky son-of-a-bitch. 

But for all of Leslie’s flaws, she did manage to impart her three philosophies of life onto her daughter - the three things that Torren still lived by to this day. It was the least she could do. God knows that whore sure as fuck didn’t do anything else for her.

Mama’s Life Lessons #1 - There is no such thing as too much black eyeliner

As trivial as it sounded, it proved to be a precious lesson. Shortly after she had moved into the trailer, Leslie had forced Torren to sit on the bed and watch as she got ready for another one of her "dates". She had told the little girl that beautiful eyes were the one good gene that ran in their family. “You got to learn how to work ‘em,” Leslie exhaled a long plume of smoke at her reflection in the vanity mirror, “You listenin'? This's important. This right here," she held up the black liner pencil, “is gonna be your best friend.”

Of course, Torren had no idea what she meant. How was a pencil going to her friend? She didn’t really care so much as what her mother was saying to her at the moment, it was more of the fact that she was actually talking to her that made Torren hang on to every word. 

That’s why she picked up the black liner pencil from her mother's cluttered vanity table and leaned over to look in the mirror. She tried tracing her bottom lid, the way her mother had done, but at six it was a little easier said than done. She had just learned how to color inside the lines with a fat crayon; mastering the art of applying liner would have to wait a few more years. 

Leslie, however, was not willing to wait that long, "What the hell's amatta wit'chu, Dumbass? You doin' it all wrong," she said snatching the pencil from the girl's hand. Grabbing Torren roughly by the chin she said, "Gotta teach you every goddamn thing. Hold still." She mumbled more curses and said something about her good-for-nothing mother not teaching her brat anything useful.

By the time she had finished cursing her name, Leslie roughly turned her daughter's head toward the mirror, "Yeah you got those eyes. Now, learn to use ‘em.” Leslie dropped the pencil onto the vanity before picking up her drink and shooing Torren away. 

That was the day that Drew Watkins bought her an ice cream. It had to be the eyeliner. It was a true fact, not just another one of her mother's drunken theories. Eyeliner and her eyes...she didn’t know how she used them, but they worked.

From that day on Torren opted to never step foot outside without heavy black liner again. 

Mama’s Life Lessons #2 - As long as there are men around that want to fuck you, you will never need to work

It wasn’t like she going to go out and get a real job. She wasn’t raised with much of a work ethic. She was too young to remember if her Me-Maw worked and what she gathered from her mother was that there would always be men around to take care of her. 

Leslie told her that she didn’t need to work because working a man was a full-time job. If she were doing that right, she wouldn’t have time for a fucking 9-5. It didn’t matter if he was in a relationship, gay, or the fucking Pope. As long as he a dick and she could bend over, and her eyes were done, her rent was as good as paid. 

If she wanted more than just the basic bills paid, she would have to rethink what all she was willing to do - but just make sure she didn’t do too much otherwise she couldn’t guarantee a steady paycheck every week.

This sage advice didn’t make much sense to 8-year-old Torren, but as the years progressed she started to work it into one of her life’s mottos. She would never want for anything. She could always rely on the kindness of strangers and when that got to be too boring, she could always take it, just to spice things up a bit.  

Mama’s Life Lessons #3 - If you want something do whatever it takes to make sure you get it

As a child that grew up with the television as a babysitter, Torren Sykes knew that she was destined to love Ivar “Lothbrok” Ragnarsson since she was a little girl. Ever since that day she turned on the TV and saw this adorable blue-eyed boy drawing Mickey Mouse ears saying, “I’m Ivar Lothbrok and you’re watching the Disney Channel,” she knew that he had to be hers. 

He was co-starring on a show called The Baker Boys, about three foster kids, who had come to live with a family that owned a bakery. Ivar’s character was named Simon Baker - a mischievous kid that lived with his grandmother until she died and never felt like he fit in with this cookie-cutter family. 

His life was just like hers - minus the cookie-cutter family that loved him and all. She was actually with more of an alcoholic whore that didn’t give a shit if she lived or died, and not pulling stunts in a bakery with flour and messing up orders like him, but she still saw them as kindred spirits. 

When the show got canceled she was devastated. How dare the world try to keep her from her man? Didn’t they understand this was love? Didn’t those people at Disneyland know that he was the only person in the world that understood her?

As if on queue, she happened to find the Season 2 DVD box-set at the library one afternoon. Her mother had kicked her out of the trailer because she had a date and couldn’t have the dumbass child around fucking things up for her. Torren had nothing else to do - at 11-years-old, she had no money, and nowhere to go. At least the library was air-conditioned. 

She wanted that box-set. Slipping it into her backpack unnoticed was the easy part. Trying to get it past the alarms would be harder. She watched for a while, paying particular attention to the way the check-out system worked. 

When the librarians changed shifts, she let a smile cross her lips as she picked a few random books from the shelves. 

Her beautiful eyes went as big as saucers when the alarm buzzed, and the young male librarian looked down at her, still clutching the large reference book to her check. Carefully she had stepped across to the other side of the alarm sensor waiting to collect the books she was checking out.

“I’m sorry, you can’t check out reference books,” the young man said, blinking his hazel eyes at Torren, the corner of his lip tugging into a smile.

She let a pout fall on her lips as she lowered her large eyes down to the book in her arms, “Oh...sorry.” She handed the book back, “I didn’t realize I still had it.” And like that, she walked out of the library with her prize.

She had stolen for Ivar...now if that wasn’t love what was?

The only thing that had threatened their love through the years is when Ivar got married. It damn near broke Torren’s heart. How could he be so cruel? She didn’t give a fuck that the marriage was short-lived. She even understood why he had to do it. He had gotten that bitch pregnant, and he didn’t have much choice. But, he cut her deep. 

Didn’t he know how much she loved him? Didn’t he know that she stuck by him when he had joined 6cess and had seen him in concert 3 times? She still had the autographed photo of the two of them from the signing at Spring Hills Mall - when she was wearing that blue midriff cardigan and ripped jeans and he had his arm around her. That shirt brought out the color in his eyes. She even wore Happy, which he said was his favorite perfume. She thought it smelled like Comet, but she stole a bottle of it from Macy’s right before the photo-op to smell good for him. 

And he went and pulled this shit?

Besides, Johnny Law said that she was still too young for him and that he could get arrested for being with her. She knew that he had to pretend to have a normal life so that no one would know about their love affair. She was just understanding like that. It gave her time to grow up a little more so that when they could he be together, the law wouldn't be standing in their way. She really didn't give a fuck, but she suspected he did. Why else hadn't he come for her?

Torren didn’t even like their music. She wasn’t a boyband kind of girl, but for him, she would make the exception. She was more of the gangsta rap or heavy metal type girl. But if Ivar was serenading her, she’d listen to sappy, wrist-slitting, emo, shit rock all fucking day long, because she loved him. 

She hated that he had gotten that whore pregnant, too. She understood that he had to pretend that they had a normal marriage. She knew that when he was fucking that bitch, he was really imagining it was her. The years apart had made him a master at hiding his true feelings for her. He couldn't give anyone cause for suspicion. If he let on the truth he could risk losing everything…his house, cars, job, and his kid. That whore was trying to keep them apart. But, she was just a small obstacle that posed no real threat to Torren.

She did not doubt that she would be his daughter's new mommy. The kid would probably be sad at first that she wouldn't be with that other woman like Torren had been when her grandmother died. But, the kid would get used to it. Torren was going to be a whole hell of a lot better at being a mom than her piece of shit mother was to her. That was for damn sure. She was going to teach her stepdaughter all about eyeliner, and how to dye her hair. 

She was going to teach her what party clothes every woman should have in her wardrobe and how to get a man to do whatever she wanted by just batting her eyes at him. She would even share her secrets on what pills to mix and what dosages to give for submission, making a man catatonic, and if she was really good, she'd teach what to put in a drink to kill someone. Hell, she even planned on giving the child her most discrete drug contacts. That would of course have to wait until she was older – at least 13. She was going to be such a good mommy. 

Ivar's daughter was going to love Torren as much as Torren loved him. They were going to be the perfect family.

Torren was as hopelessly devoted to Ivar as he was to her. He had waited for her to become legal. Just months before she was old enough to legally consent to sex, and get married without parental permission, his marriage started falling apart. She knew that Ivar was trying to make a clean break from his wife, and get his daughter used to the idea of them being apart before he could come home to her. 

Torren had been thoughtful and respectful enough to give him that space to make sure everything was right before she stepped into the role of the new Mrs. Lothbrok. He had to test the waters, make sure that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had to get back into the swing of things…have sex constantly to make sure he could keep up with her. She knew that "the prude" wasn't doing it nearly as often as he needed to - why else would he have an Only Fans page?

Torren was the only one that could feed his appetite, and he hers.

Now, they were both finally ready. She was mature and developed. She knew what she needed, and it was him. He had his fun before her, but now he was auditioning again and getting everything back on track for them. He had a great relationship with his daughter and his dumb ass ex-wife finally understood that their relationship was a fling that went too far.

His face told her everything that her heart already knew. He loved her. 

Why else would be looking at her like that? She could feel herself blush when he smiled on Instagram like that into them. Then he gave her that smile. That was her smile; the one that he reserved for her during their private times. Yet, there he was doing it in front of an audience of millions, and he didn't care who saw it. He had to let her know that it was time for her to come home. It was like a sleeper cell being awakened.

She didn't have a choice. She did what any other woman in her position would do. She packed a bag, threw it in the car she stole a few days before and drove. Armed with her trifecta of knowledge and determination, she prepared to face the obstacles that were bound to get in her way. There was nothing that was going to stop her from getting her man.

Nothing.

Part ii || Part iv

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1​  @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @didiintheblog​ @conaionaru​ @peachyboneless​ @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927​ @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys @didiintheblog​  @revolution-starter​

[kaibacorpintern]

For the prompt thing: kaiba + yuugi + professionalism!

this was fun!! thanks to @dxmichelle for the retail stories. kaiba as a retail worker is like me when I was a retail worker because when i worked at a barnes and noble, i spent a LOT of time perfectly squaring the books. anyway all the kaibacorp adventure park castmembers get some fat fucking pay raise/benefit boosts after this

***

This was all Jounouchi’s fucking fault and Seto was never agreeing to any stupid fucking bets again. When did he become a good duelist, instead of just a lucky one? And he knew it, too, announcing his plans to win the Domino City Invitational with the kind of brash, easy confidence that was a front for nothing, a Roman wall around nothing, with nothing he needed to defend on the other side. As hard to read as a coloring book. Asshole. 

“The gods have struck men down for less hubris than this,” Seto snapped, over a game of poker at Yuugi’s weekly game night. Mokuba had badgered him into attending after their return from the yearly strategic planning retreat with the board. You need to be around normal people! No more sharks in people suits! 

“So what? You don’t believe in higher powers, Rich Boy.”

 “In my experience, a god and a higher power are two separate things."

“Oh, okay, Neeshee. Maybe you don’t believe in me, but you do believe in games,” Jounouchi said.

“Devastating insight,” Seto said. “And it’s Nietzsche.”

“Bless you. Don't be rude and sneeze into a tissue next time. Let’s make a bet. When I win the Invitational, you… pick up all my shifts at the Kame Game Shop for a week. I take home all the paychecks, but you do all the work. You know, bog-standard capitalism.”

Seto rolled his eyes. “When you lose, you give the jet a good wash and wax. Then you throw your deck and your Duel Disk into the river, and never duel again.”

“Deal. And I tell you what, Kaiba. One day we’re gonna meet across the field, and you’re going to lose, but it won’t even bother you, because you had just so much fun,” Jounouchi said, extending his hand across the table, with a savage grin. 

“Don’t fucking threaten me,” Seto said, shaking his hand.

Asshole! Jounouchi stomped the competition with an ease Seto hadn’t seen since he was fourteen and unceremoniously sacking Inspector Haga at the Pan Pacific Final. 

At least Yuugi gave him his own nametag, instead of making him wear Jounouchi’s: a plastic, turtle-shaped badge with a white space for his name. There was a line below it that said MY FAVORITE GAME IS... chess, Seto wrote in moodily, with the marker. Then he affixed it to his dark-green apron, neatly and precisely, just over his heart.

Yuugi nudged the curtain into the stock room aside, wearing a matching apron and smiling like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Ready to clock in - oh, no. This is the Kame Game Shop,” he said, reaching up to fix Seto’s name tag, tweaking it to sit slightly at an angle. “Perfect right angles are for squares.”

“A KaibaCorp Adventure Park castmember wouldn’t be caught dead with their nametag this sloppy,” Seto snapped.

“It’s not sloppy. It’s jaunty and playful,” Yuugi corrected. “Now, let’s review. You’re an engineering prodigy, so I’m sure you can handle the register. What do we do when a customer walks in?”

Seto sighed, hands bracing on his hips as his eyes rolled towards the ceiling. That asshole picked up five full days of double shifts. 

“Welcome them when they walk in,” he said, as Yuugi nodded along. “Ask if they need any help. If they’re just browsing, leave them alone. Provide recommendations if they ask.”

“And?” Yuugi prompted, raising his eyebrows.

“Wrap and bag their purchases and thank them for wasting my fucking time.”

Yuugi reached up, pressing the tips of his index fingers into Seto’s cheeks. “No! Smile!” 

Seto bared his teeth.

“Can’t believe people call you a bad sport,” Yuugi said. “Maybe just smize instead. Go! Clock in! Upsell your own Duel Disk!”

Seto let out a final dramatic huff, took the clipboard off its hook on the wall, and added his billion-dollar contract signature to the timesheet, below several rows of Jounouchi’s scrawl. 

***

After four hours, Seto took his lunch break, an all-too-brief thirty minutes in the alley behind the Game Shop, leaning back with one foot propped against the wall, answering emails on his phone with all the speed and fury his thumbs could muster. It was high summer. Vines spilled over the wall on the other side of the alleyway, limp and vibrating with heat. Even the shade under the wall was warm. 

The side door opened. He turned his head, preparing a choice little bon mot for Yuugi, and paused, his breath hitching in his chest with a wild regret, birdlike, startled suddenly out of hiding. 

He stared at Sugoroku, privately cursing Jounouchi for the nth time for making the fucking bet, winning the fucking Invitational, and putting him here in this fucking alleyway, staring at Sugoroku. It was too late to go back inside. Sugoroku stared back, hoary-haired, stooped under the weight of his years. Even wizened, with skin like old, pale leather, the family resemblances were clear: the same big, warm eyes, the same bright smile, no less weakened for age. 

He shuffled out the door, dragging a small garbage bag of recycling beside him.

“Open that up and drop this in, will you please? My back’s not what it used to be.”

“Yes,” Seto said, rapidly stooping to take the bag. Should he add sir? Yes, sir? He hadn’t said 'sir' to anyone in ten years. What was he supposed to say? Sorry. I was not myself. I was myself, but the worst version. It was the beta release of me and we have removed the bugs (the murder bugs) in advance of stable release. All remaining bugs are acceptable. We have added accurate legal and medical disclaimers to all our SolidVision and Virtual World products about how the sensory intensity of KaibaCorp proprietary holographic technology may exacerbate existing heart conditions. I am taking good care of her and I love her and she loves me. Who? Her. The dragon. 

He dropped the bag into the recycling bin several steps away and turned around to face Sugoroku, summoning his resolve with an inhale, exhale, firm and deep. 

“How’s your first day?” Sugoroku said.

“My company isn’t going down in flames without me,” Seto said. “Color me surprised.”

“How’s your first day here?”

“Enthralling. The adrenaline high of consumer retail is really just something else - ”

“Speak up, I can’t hear you over all that racket you’re making,” Sugoroku said. Seto paused, bewildered, mouth half-open - and shut it, color flaring across his face.

“Uh - fine,” he muttered. “It’s fine. I helped an eight-year-old pick out a board game.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She came in with all the allowance she’d saved up and she wanted something she could play with her sister. I sold her on mancala."

"That's a classic. Not a board game, but a classic. And hard to sell to children."

Seto scoffed. "I hate the crap they pass off as board games these days, with all the… fiddly, little plastic pieces and the arcane rules. Children get drawn in by the colors, but they don't have patience for the rules, so it ends up forgotten at the bottom of a bookshelf somewhere with half the pieces sucked up in the vacuum cleaner. Mancala is simple. You can play it with a patch of dirt and a handful of gravel. But if you want to win, you need to play with skill and wit. It's timeless. It’s elegant."

"Well, you've sold me. I haven’t played mancala in years. Shall we play tomorrow? During your lunch break?"

Seto said nothing, resisting the urge to bite his lip, a bad habit and a sign of nervousness.

“Yuugi speaks very highly of you, you know,” Sugoroku said. “I’d love to know why.”

He chuckled and shuffled back inside, leaving Seto fuming with an odd, stomach-clenching embarrassment. 

He checked his phone. Three more minutes left of his lunch break, and his feet were aching. He should’ve worn different shoes, not the Chelsea boots. Tomorrow. Mancala? Damn Jounouchi to hell. Better shoes.

***

“Excuse me,” the woman said. “Do you have Legendary Heroes II?”

Seto abandoned his task of aligning board game boxes at perfect right angles. Fuck jaunty and playful.

“No. That’s not out until December,” he said. The production issues on Legendary Heroes II were a fucking nightmare, and the thought of making his game developers crunch - making them miserable, overworked, and more likely to quit and get snapped up by Schroeder Corp - gave him hives. So he’d pushed release back to December, allowing the small hit to his stock under the rationale that the holiday retail season would make up for it. But she didn’t need to know that. 

“But - it’s my son’s birthday next Saturday, and Legendary Heroes is his favorite game,” she said, hands clenching loosely by her stomach, a gesture of pleading.

“I’m delighted to hear it. It does not change the fact that the game literally does not exist,” Seto said. 

“Can you just check in the back? He’s been asking about this for months now,” she said, and Seto clicked his teeth, face slipping into a snarl - from the corner of his eye, he saw Yuugi, watching him.

Smile, he mouthed, and pressed his fingers into his own cheeks, putting on a manic, plastic grin. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back,” Seto said, smiling, and stormed away. As expected, he did not find Legendary Heroes II in the stock room. He dawdled, checking his email, firing off a few replies, advising Mokuba on the right way to handle the zesty temperament of their general counsel - this’ll be fun, Mokuba said, I get to run KaibaCorp without you, like, dying or something - WHAT? - and stashed his phone back into his apron pocket.

“My apologies,” he said, returning to the woman. “We don’t have it in stock. If you’d like to pre-order it, it’ll be available just in time for Christmas. Just log on to the KaibaCorp website and enter the Kame Game Shop as your pick-up location. If you’re still looking for a birthday gift, I strongly suggest the new Duel Disk. The design is much better for children than the old one - lighter and more streamlined, with less intense haptics. If he already has a Duel Disk, he can bring that in for a trade-in.”

“Oh, perfect!” she said. “We'll do that. Thank you. You’ve been so helpful.”

“You’re welcome. Have a fantastic day,” Seto said, still smiling. He watched her leave and returned to his board game boxes, feeling hideously, fabulously smug. A customer walked in, carrying a bare Duel Disk under his arm, and Seto shot him a cheerful welcome. The man ignored him, heading straight to Yuugi at the counter.

***

Yuugi swallowed, squared his shoulders, and lifted his chin.

"I'm sorry. We cannot accept a Duel Disk return without a box or a receipt," he said. Clearly stolen. 

"But I bought it here two weeks ago. And the stupid piece of shit is defective," the man said. "I want my money back!"

Loud enough that Seto, re-stocking towards the front of the store, turned towards them, with open curiosity.

"What's the nature of the defect?" Yuugi said.

"It just doesn't fucking work. I don't know what else to tell you," the guy said. "Are you gonna do the return or not?!"

His least favorite type of customer: smashing reason apart with the baseball bat of belligerence. Yuugi steeled himself for the inevitable slew of insults. 

"Sir. I can't do the return without a receipt - "

A hand came down on his shoulder, pulling him with polite insistence out of the way. Seto, with a canny, feline smile, the kind that foretold bloodshed on the dueling field.

"Oh no, Yuugi," he said. "Let me handle this."

[askmissthunder]

Dear Penny, Cassie, Talon and Eli. Did you like going to the beach when you were little kids? And do you still enjoy it now that you’re older?

Miss Thunder: Yay! A question for all of us for the summer season!

Red Rabbit: Rad! Beach Time!

MT: My family didn't go too often but I always liked the beach. I can probably count the number of times we went on one hand. I think the last time I went was when I was still in secondary school for a family reunion. It was really fun though! We had a cookout and a bonfire and we rented jet skis! I remember I rode with my dad. It was a bit scary, the waves made for a bit of a choppy ride but it was fun in the end!

RR: Of course I liked the beach when I was little! My family owns a beach house, after all!

Talon: *Tsk!* Rich girl.

RR: Heh! I can't help it if my parents were good at their jobs. I remember one of the first times we went, I was still wearing arm floaties! My sister helped me make sandcastles and my brothers would go boogie-boarding!

Eli: How often would you go?

RR: Usually about two or three times during the summer but we would be there for a whole week at least. Sometimes longer! And if it wasn't for our beach house, I would have never found that meteor and gotten my powers!

MT: And what about you, Talon?

T: What?

MT: Did you ever go to the beach when you were little?

T: Well...yes.

RR: ...And?

T: *Clears throat* Well...my mom...we were pretty much living paycheck to paycheck ever since I was a baby. So, we didn't have a lot of money for new toys or go anywhere fancy like the amusement park. And I understood that. She was working two jobs and working on her GED. But the beach was always free.

MT and RR: Awwwww!

T: If we didn't go swimming, My mom and I would, at least, take my bucket and go walking on the shore to look for seashells......it was nice...for a while.

RR: *puts a hand on her shoulder* Tal?

T: Hm?

RR: You all right?

T: ...I'm fine.

MT: Eli! How about you?

E: Umm...the lab people really didn't let us out unless it was for a mission...

RR: *Hisses air through teeth*

MT: Oop! Eli, I'm so sorry! I can't believe I forgot about that!

E: It's okay, Penn. When I came to Ocean City, I've been by the beach a lot but I haven't really...

MT and RR: GONE to the beach.

E: Right.

RR: Ooh! We should go this summer!

MT: *Laughs nervously* And that brings us to the second question...

E: What? You don't like it now?

MT: Er...let's just say that I'm pretty sure people aren't going to have the best reaction seeing someone my size at the beach.

RR: Penny, they're not gonna be THAT bad.

MT: I think your experiences at the beach and mine are vastly different, Cassie.

T: I thought you said you went with your family?

MT: I did but people are still gonna give funny looks at the fat family at the beach. The only reason I didn't feel weird wearing a swimsuit at the family reunion is that pretty much everybody in my family is fat in some shape or form. Also, I'm too big for a swimsuit now!

RR: Welp, now you've done it! Now you know as well as I do that I'm gonna have to ask Joanie to make you an itsy-bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini!

E: Oooh hoo hoo hoo!

MT: Oh heavens no! I don't want to show that much skin! Plus, yellow isn't really my color.

RR: Well, what type of swimsuit did you have before?

MT: A one-piece with some shorts for cover.

RR: Modest but cute.

MT: *Winking* Well, we can't all wear those little skimpy bikinis like some people!

RR: Hmm... how about this, Penny? What if I got Joanie to make you a more modest bikini like a tank top with bikini bottoms?

MT: What, like some sort of...tankini?*

RR: Ooh! That's not bad!

MT: *Sighs* I guess I can't talk you out of it now but if you do go to Joanie, tell her I need a lot of support for...you know, "the Girls".

RR: Hmph! Lucky! I barely have anything to support! But you know who WOULD look really good in a bikini? Heh heh heh!

T: Oh, fuck no. I ain't wearing a damn bikini.

RR: Come on! Unlike me, you actually have the curves to show off in a bikini! And all those muscles! Rowr!

T: I'm perfectly happy wearing my one-piece with a tank top and gym shorts over it, thank you very much.

MT: Eli? You've been awfully quiet.

E: ....Sorry, Penny. I couldn't help but think of being at the beach and seeing a certain big beautiful girl walking my way. Just....bouncing along....

MT: *Tsk!* Boys...

*For context, the Tankini wouldn't be invented until 1998-1999. Miss Thunder and her friends live in the very early 90s.