#you know damn well who i’m talking about

[classyrbf]

IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...you and gojo get into a fight after realizing that he’s been hiding something about your relationship the entire time

INFO...gojo x fem!reader, angsty, arguing, breaking up(?), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You slam the door to the penthouse, your heels clicking against the mahogany floors with each step. You toss your purse on the couch, hearing Gojo opening the front door and shutting it quickly. “Baby, please just listen to me.” He pleads, following after you.

“I don’t wanna hear your bullshit excuse, Satoru.” You roll your eyes, plopping down on the edge of the bed to relieve your sore feet of the heels you’ve been wearing all night to your boyfriends opening event he’s been planning for months now.

“I’m not trying to make excuses. Please.” He walks over towards you and toss your heel at him. “Stop throwing shit and just talk to me!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You stand to your feet, glaring daggers at him. “Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? God, you’re a fucking asshole.” You seethe, narrowing your eyes. “I sat there all alone, while you let some woman feel up on you the entire night? Are you out your fucking mind?” You scoff.

“She’s just an old friend, y/n. I swear I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He shakes his head at you, grabbing onto your arms tightly.

“Oh, yeah? So I when I came up and introduced myself as your girlfriend none of your friends were looking at me like I was crazy? I know we’ve been only together for a year, Satoru, but that’s fucking low.” You pull away from him. “They didn’t even know who I was. Then you got miss prissy bitch clearly flirting with you in front of me and you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it!” You brush past him, stomping over towards the bathroom.

“Slow down, y/n! Baby—”

“I’m not your fucking ‘baby’, Satoru.” You gather all of your products from the bathroom, from your makeup and skincare to your clothes and shampoo.

“Stop for just one second.” He spins you around so you’re facing him. “Don’t leave. I swear you’re the only girl for me. I know I fucked up, I know I did. I embarrassed you, made you look stupid and I am so fucking sorry. But please do not leave.” He cups your face gently and his touch feels so inviting, but you can’t forgive him that easily. “I only want you. I only need you.”

You look up at him through your lashes, swallowing thickly as you bite the inside of your cheek. “Should’ve thought about that when you let her kiss your cheek and you smiled at her. Right in front of me. Get the fuck off of me.” You push him, rushing to grab your bag from the closet.

Gojo lets out a tired sigh, following you. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not like this. “I shouldn’t have let her near me.”

“Why was she so comfortable with being that close to you, huh?” You question, furrowing your brows as you turn to look at him. “Now that I think about it. Let me guess, you two were more than just friends.” You stand to your feet, snatching your clothes off the hangers and shoving them into your bag. He looks at you, opening his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. And from the look in his eyes, you already knew the truth. A bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head in disappointment.

“It was before you! Before us! We never dated it was just a small thing between me and her!” He tried to explain. “Baby, I swear! Once I met you, everything changed. I cut her off and focused all my attention on you. You’re the only who has my heart.” He grabbed your wrist only for you to pull away.

“Clearly I ain’t the only who who’s got your dick, though.” You slam the closet door shut, turning your back towards him.

“Don’t say that, y/n. That’s the first time I’ve seen her in years!”

“Yeah? Well all your friends sure know about her. She must’ve been great in bed, Satoru. Me? Well, they looked at me like I was a fucking ghost!” You scoff. “Like I was some delusional bitch who came up to you and said I was your girlfriend!” You throw your hands up in disbelief. “You must take me for fucking joke. It must be written on my forehead or something!”

“I don’t take you for a joke! You’re my goddamn girlfriend. You live with me. You have my initial around your fucking neck! I love you and you know that!” He takes a step towards you.

“Do I know that?” You ask aloud, cocking your head to the side.

“What—of course I love you. What the fuck are you saying?” He looked at you with pure confusion.

“You’re a joke. One of your friends, Shoko, pulled me aside and told me the only reason you got with me is because your little fling ended up getting a boyfriend herself around the time we started dating. You’re a piece of shit.” You revealed the truth to him, watching him stare at you blankly, lost for words. “Think I wouldn’t find out?” You ripped off the necklace with his initial, tossing it at him.

“Yes, I was upset that she got a boyfriend but—”

“So you had feelings for her. And just to cover them up, you got with me as a distraction.” You step closer towards him. “Listen to me, Satoru, don’t ever try and contact me again, keep whatever fucking gifts you bought me and return them, sell them, do whatever because I am done,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

“No, no, no, baby. You can’t leave me. Yea I liked her before, but so fucking what? I was never in love with her, not like I am with you. I was too fucking stupid. I still am! Just give me another chance to fix this. I don’t want us to end this way.” He grabs your packed bag from your hands and tosses it on the bed.

“Let me go, Satoru.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I can’t. You’re everything to me. She’s nothing compared to you.” He sniffles, holding your hands in his. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. And I’m sorry for entertaining the idea that she could even come close to you. She can’t.” His hands cupped your face, his heart pounding in anticipation as he waited to hear any words from you.

You reached up, pulling his hands away from your face. “Bye, Satoru.” You walked past him, grabbing your bag off of the bed. As much as it hurt to leave, you knew you had to respect yourself. Time and space was what you needed to think. With each step out the door, you could hear Gojo’s sobs, something you’ve never heard before in the year you’ve been with him. For the strong, flashily and confident man he is, you never once thought you’d see or him break down. Especially not for you.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16

Eddie’s back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where he’s hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.

Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissy’s arm, and says, “sorry, Steve. I’m just gonna—” and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.

Steve’s gut clenches with guilt. He’d put that look on Eddie’s face, had caused the rift in his and Jeff’s friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.

“Are he and Jeff okay?” Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.

“I think so,” she says, looking after her boyfriend. “They talked on the phone, but Jeff didn’t tell me what about.”

“Forget about them,” Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. “Come on, Stevie, or we’ll be late to Ms. Clickity Clack’s class.”

Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like they’d all talked behind his back and decided he couldn’t be trusted with being alone right now. Steve can’t blame them because as soon as he’s left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.

   Eddie —

   I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway.

   You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse.

   I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?

   I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face.

   Sorry,

   Steve

He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesn’t have to look at it. Sleep doesn’t come—the house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.

“H’lo?” Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.

She sounds tired—Steve’s sorry he woke her. “I wrote another letter,” he says.

That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, “Steven James Harrington.”

“Not my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,” he replies, talking right over her shrieked ���well, that’s not mine!” to continue, “I’m not going to send it.”

“You better not,” she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like she’s settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.

“Is it stupid that I miss him?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Robin!”

She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. “I’m just saying! He’s been treating you like shit, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. “He was different in the letters,” he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. “Sweeter, you know?”

Robin sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. They’re quiet for a while, Robin’s breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.

“I love you, Robbie,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”

He’s been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like they’ll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, he’ll learn to be okay with that.

“Love you, too, Dingus,” Robin replies, like it’s easy.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robin’s quiet snoring.

***

Eddie thinks about it—obsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping there’s another note in his locker—there never is.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddie’s side.

“Ow, ribs!” Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.

“Sorry!” Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like that’ll somehow prove he’s harmless.

Jeff snorts around his sandwich, “gotta be careful, Gare-bear. He’s precious cargo now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.

“No, but seriously, dude,” Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. “What’s up with you?”

Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissy’s usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that they’re not eating, and it’s his fault.

Hopefully, they’re just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (he’s been too afraid to check).

“Can’t tell you buddy,” Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like that’ll somehow make the duo appear. “I promised.”

Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, “but it’s about you know what?”

Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, “okay, you didn’t tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?”

“Sophomore, jackass!” Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeff’s sentence. “You told Jeff?”

“I knew before you did,” Jeff says smugly, and Eddie’s starting to get pissed off about that again.

“How!”

“Jeff, dearest?” Eddie grits out. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, “I’m coming over after school,” and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Gareth’s indignant questions.

True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddie’s passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesn’t take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the silence, in the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. “Steve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying so—”

“He was scared?” Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. He’d known that, before, but now that Eddie’s afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.

“Of course he was,” Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. “I’m scared, too.”

Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesn’t look away from his own knees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. “Yeah.” His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. “And I know we’re supposed to be talking about us, but I just—”

“No, hey,” Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeff’s hand is clasping Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him around just a little. “You’re my best friend—we’re fine, dude.”

Eddie swipes at his eyes again, “I think I want to ask him out, but what if I’m wrong?” Eddie asks, tracking Jeff’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, voice deadpan. “You find out he likes you and suddenly he’s not just a jock anymore?”

Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddie’s always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steve’s eyes during every D&D session, the way he’d glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supreme’s side in recent weeks. The way he’d look at Eddie like he wasn’t the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.

“He was never just a jock,” Eddie murmurs. “I just never let myself think about it.”

Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.

“I was afraid, okay?” Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, “right, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.”

Okay, fair.

“You know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?” Jeff continues. “I’ll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, sorry!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. “How’s that going anyway?”

“With Chrissy?” Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. “She’s great, man. I really, really like her.”

He’s smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as he’d flirted with her, there’d always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just can’t help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.

“If I ask Steve out, do you think he’ll still say yes?”

“Oh, for sure,” Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. “But are you sure you want to?”

Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, “what do you mean?”

Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeff’s silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off. 

“Jeff–”

“No one’s ever liked you before!” Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. “And maybe it’s not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. “What do you–”

“Eddie, man,” Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. “Do you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?”

He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeff’s eye. 

How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when it’s been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the person’s feeling for them?

That’s like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braid–it can’t be done.

But, “Gareth said I was obsessed with him,” Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. “Like, before I knew he wrote the letters?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, but it’s just like Steve said–it sounds different when he doesn’t think it’s funny. “And, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. “He’s just–he’s Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!” Eddie’s smiling now, manic, animated. “And I wanted to know everything.”

Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadn’t before, so Eddie keeps talking.

“Like, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didn’t even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know,” Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display. 

“And when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?”

Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but he’s still grinning across at Eddie like he’s proud of him. Eddie’s kind of proud, too, that he’s managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time. 

“Okay, you can ask him out,” Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

Eddie laughs. “Oh, because I needed your blessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like he’s a slab of meat Jeff’s checking for its quality. “Maybe wait until you’re healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.”

“Shut up!” Eddie squawks, but he’s smiling, helplessly, hopefully.

Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who would’ve thought?

PART 18

[lecl3rcw]

Keeping Up With The Leclercs |

a/n: this is the more detailed version of the chapters!! y/n has no face claim, the pictures I use are just for reference.

———————————————————————————

It was an unusually rainy day in Monte Carlo as the Leclerc twins sat at their mother’s house. y/n was on live with her fans building a lego set while arthur was playing the piano in the back.

“y/n what’s the lip oil you use, it’s so pretty, aw thankyou! I use the Dior lip oil in the shade poppy coral!” She smiles showcasing the product before putting it away.

“oh by the way, I’m back home in Monaco for a bit so that’s my brother playing the piano, he’s very good at it” she says as she continues to build a Lego sit, well atleast until her brother arthur comes into the screen.

“c'est tellement moche” that’s so ugly he says chuckling as her jaw drops. “tu es du genre à parler” you’re one to talk

Soon, Arthur had started helping her as the soft rain pattered against the window of their maman’s cozy house. “y/n who’s your favorite sibling, hmm…” she goes into deep thinking as arthur looks at her expectantly, “Lorenzo” she simply says as arthur scoffs “Not your twin brother?” “…definitely not” she chuckles as they engage in their usual sibling banter.

“I guess someone’s upset a certain someone is out of their league” Arthur nudges her, she gave him a warning look, “aw what’s the matter? You upset that Jo-” before he could finish she puts a hand on his mouth “fermez-la!” Shut up!

arthur chuckles as he nodded “bien sûr chéri” sure cheri he says as they continue building it. It was a studio ghibli's "howls moving castle" and it was so cute. Once they were finished they showed it to the people watching the live, “it’s so cute!” She says admiring their work. It was late so they decided to end the live saying goodbyes to everyone who watched.

y/n.leclcerc posted a story

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charlesleclerc, charlottedipietro and 67,000 more…

Now, she was in the middle of packing up her suitcase as Arthur scrolled through his phone laying down on her bed. "So how long are you going to be in the US for?" Arthur casually asks, "hmm about a month, and then ill meet up with Charles and Alexandra in Venice for a bit" she says as she packed everything.

"Damn, booked a lot of jobs for once? I'm surprised anyone would cast your ugly face" he chuckles making her roll her eyes, "don't you have some relationship problems to worry about" she fires back making his face drop. "Thats not fair! you know Carla-" before he finishes, their mother Pascale comes in as well.

"Salut Maman" hello mama they say unanimously, as she smiled at them. "Tu pars déjà ?" you're leaving already? she asks y/n as she sighs, "oui mama" yes mama she says hugging her mom. Pascale wraps her arms around the girl tightly, "ton voyage a paru si court, reviens plus souvent à Monaco ma petite fille" your trip felt so short, come back to Monaco more often my little girl. y/n smiles, "I promise I will maman" she says as she packs the last of her things.

Pascale takes a seat next to Arthur on y/n's bad, "so what all do you have planned for the month?" Arthur asks. y/n sits down, "I'm actually not sure, Lucille sent me an entire list of my schedule, I'm actually so grateful for my manager" she chuckles as she pulls up her schedule on the phone. "How is Lucille by the way?" Arthur says his cheeks a bit red, she glares at him "You stay away from Lucille" she says as his face drops "What! why!" he says as Pascale looks at them in confusion, "why cherie?" she asks confused as well.

"A. you're a terrible boyfriend, B. you have to sort things out with Carla because I love her, and C. I'm not going to let you mess up a good thing going on for me" she says crossing her arms, Arthur groans "I am not!" he says to his twin who scoffs "Do you know the amount of friendships I have lost because of you and Charles?" she says. "Fine fine ill stay away from Lucille quelle galère" what a drag he says rolling his eyes. "Maman tell him to stay away from Lucille" she says, "ok ok je pense qu'il comprend" ok ok i think he gets it she says in her usual soft voice. Once things settle down, Arthur and Pascale exit the room so that she could get some rest before her very long and tiring flight.

The next morning as she's brushing her teeth she gets a call from Lucille, "Goodmorning y/n! I just sent you a screenshot of the boarding pass!" Lucille chirps, "Thankyou so much Lucille, ill see you when I land" she says as she hangs up. She quickly gets her hand bag ready making sure she has her essential such as her passport, and some self care products.

Arthur and Pascale drive her to the airport, she hugs both of them tightly, "I'll miss you guys" she says pulling away, "yeah yeah I guess I will too" Arthur says playfully rolling his eyes to which she punches his shoulder. "oh ma petite fille, envoie-moi un message quand tu atterris" oh my little girl, text me when you land as she pulls y/n into another tight hug to which she reciprocates. "oui maman" yes mama she says before finally going into the line. "she waves to them with a quick I love you and before she knows it, she's on the plane.

y/n.leclerc's story

charlesleclerc replied > safe travels cherie!

alexandrasaintmelux replied > see you soon ange!

she smiles as she responds to their messages, she shuts her phone off after a while. Her head resting on the airplane window as she extends her legs since she was in first class. her work in the US hadn't even started yet and she was already feeling so stressed. she had 38 modeling shoots, two runways, and about 7 public events, one of them including seeing one of her biggest crushes in just a month. she decides to just shut her eyes and let it go to the back of her head.

y/n.leclerc

monaco 24' you will be missed <3 @ alexandrasaintmleux, @ arthurleclerc, @ chanel

liked by lorenzotl, charlesleclerc, and 1,200,0000 others.....

alexandrasaintmleux mon petit amour💌 my little love

^ y/n.leclerc mon ange 💞 my angel

lorenzotl vous me manquez les gars ☹️ miss you guys

^ y/n.leclerc tu me manques davantage😔💞 miss you more

chanel that's our ambassador!🫡

^ y/n.leclerc my fav brand💌

lec1ercs sososo pretty

lilymean1 your white dress is so pretty! where's it from!

^ y/n.leclerc Chanel! the 2023 summer drop :)

asmcloset I love her friendship with Alex

[bearforcecaptions]

The spell worked, sort of, but not how I wanted. I did have the body of my dreams – I was Garrett now, but I didn’t realize the catch was that I wouldn’t be able to control what I’m doing unless I’m totally alone. And Garrett, or, me, I guess – I’m nearly never alone! The frat house pretty much always has someone in it, and I’m super popular, too. I thought being Garrett would be fun and easy, but stuck like this, it’s torture!

I figured out the ritual from this old book I found at that occult shop downtown, thinking it would be a quick way out of my boring life and into something… well, something way more interesting. Garrett had it all, or so I thought. Girls loved him, he was in the best shape, and everyone wanted to be his friend. But nobody told me about this weird restriction, or maybe I just didn’t read that part carefully enough. I guess the idea was I’d “experience” Garrett’s life, but it’s like watching a movie, except I’m the star and I can only move on my own terms when no one else is around.

And god, my roommate, he’s actually so stupid. When I can’t control my actions, we bro out all the time, but he’s so vapid. I guess I’m not much better, but it’s actually infuriating. You’d think we could have a conversation that’s not about girls, parties, sports, or video games. But no, every time he starts talking, it’s like Garrett’s body just falls right into the rhythm of it, responding automatically. I tried fighting it at first, but it’s like this autopilot takes over, and I’m just... stuck.

I’ve been scouring the room whenever I get a chance to control things, like right now, looking for any sign or clue on how to undo this. There has to be something I missed. I rummaged through his messy closet, which is packed with clothes, gym stuff, and random junk, none of it useful. The guy keeps his stuff in total chaos, and I feel weirdly exposed, like I’m actually pawing through my own things.

Shit, no, is that the door jangling? I thought I would have a couple of hours to try and figure out how to fix this. Who the hell knows when I’ll get another chan-

Fuuck, bro. Why’s my roomie home early? Thought he went to his ‘rents for the weekend. I was just about to jerk one out too. Ah well, maybe he’ll be down for some Call of Duty or something. I could use a beer.

“Yo, dude, what’s up? You back already?” I say, grinning like an idiot as I lean against the door frame, flexing a bit without even realizing it. Dude probably thinks I’m just chillin’, but nah, I’m feelin' like a boss.

He laughs, dropping his bag by the door and shrugging. “Yeah, man, got bored at home. Figured I’d head back early. Parents were driving me nuts.”

“Oh, for sure, dude,” I nod, grabbing a can of beer from the mini-fridge by my bed. “Parents, am I right? They just don’t get it, bro.” I crack it open, chugging half of it in one go, feeling the cool rush. Damn, that’s good.

He slaps my shoulder, laughing. “Dude, I swear, it’s like every time I go back, it’s the same speech about responsibility and blah blah blah. Like, whatever, right?”

“Oh, totally, man,” I laugh, shrugging it off. “Why they gotta be like that, y’know? We’re just out here living, they don’t get it.” I toss him a beer, feeling that chill vibe kickin’ in, like nothing in the world matters but just hanging with my bro. This is what it’s all about – no worries, no drama, just cold beers and good times.

“Bro, I’m feelin’ a COD sesh,” I say, grabbing the controller off the couch. “You down?”

He grins. “Hell yeah, let’s wreck some noobs.”

We crash down on the couch, controllers in hand, beers in easy reach, and it’s like all the worries in the world just melt away. I’m trash-talkin’, throwin’ down taunts, and we’re both laughing so hard my sides hurt. I don’t even remember the last time I felt this alive.

“You’re so bad, dude,” I laugh, jabbing him in the ribs as I get another kill. “How are you still this bad?”

“Shut up, bro!” he shoves me back, laughing too, and I’m grinning like an idiot.

Fuck, life is good, I think, as I take a gulp of my beer. I got my bros, I got my beer, and I got my games. What more does a dude need? Life’s good.

[fawnhart]

SHORT N’ SWEET ! ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

pairings. drew x bambi!reader

warnings. tooth rotting fluff

authors note. I hope you guys like it!🪽Sorry for not updating a lot but I haven’t been super inspired lately and I just decided not to force myself to push stuff out if its not genuine </3

The snow drifted gently outside the windows of bambis brownstone, dusting the building in white, quiet, and peace.

Inside, the air smelled like warm vanilla sugar cookies, the kind that made you feel safe and cozy. Soft candlelights flickered against the walls, casting a sweet golden glow over the room, books like “indiana” and “La muse et l'écrivain” were scattered across a baby blue couch adorned with delicate, lacy pillows.

Ms. Mocha, her new kitty, curled up on one of the pillows closest to the heater, lazily batting at the fraying edges.

"Okay, I’m really freaking excited about this," Bambi said, pulling a pink, glittery panda face mask from the bag. She had pure excitement and mischief in her doe eyes, the one that meant she’d found something utterly ridiculous and she just had to share it with her man who was sprawled under her on the couch, his big hands on her waistline.

To bambi He was the sexiest man alive in that effortless, cool way, but right now, he was looking at the panda mask confused.

“I don’t know, baby,” drew said, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice warm with affection but she could hear the hesitation.

not very cool

bambi laughed, holding it up between her perfectly manicured fingernails. "Come on, it’s so cute—" she pouted at him "Plus, it’s fun. Right Ms. Mocha?"

Drew glanced at the fluffy brown ball , who was still lazily watching them from the pillow. "Mocha s’not impressed." He said playfully rolling his eyes

“First of all it’s Ms. Mocha and second of all, she is impressed! What are you talking about?" Bambi shot back, pushing her pointer finger into his chiseled bare chest. “You promised you’d do whatever to make me happy, right?.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze to her. “I did, huh?”

Bambi leaned in, grabbing his face and pressed a long chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away. “Yes, you did. Now shut up and let me put this on you.”

Drew chuckled, knowing damn well he’d never really say no to his girl. Not when she looked at him like that, all warm and soft with the dim light playing over her features, rolling his eyes once more before leaning in for another kiss. “Alright, alright. For you, I’ll be a panda tonight.”

Bambi clapped her hands together and let out an excited squeal, it was one of those moments that made Drew’s heart soften in that way only she could do.

“Come on,” she said, already slipping the mask onto his face, “It’s cute! You’ll see.”

Drew closed his eyes and let her take over, she fumbled a little as she pulled the mask over his face, his cheeks getting red with the absurdity of it all when she handed him the baby pink hand mirror. “I look like a—“

"Sexy panda!" she said, voice muffled and amused “you look like a sexy panda” Bambi laughed

Drew caught her eyes, and despite the embarrassment of the moment, he couldn’t help but smile.

She looked so cute with the white-pink mask and the way her eyes sparkled even through the fabric. “dream girl” he thought

Her long silky hair was up in a sparkly claw clip after being tousled and wild from a long day of filming, in this quiet little bubble of time, with the snow falling softly outside and Ms. Mocha purring beside them, drew couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

“So,” he said, settling further into the couch, letting his head rest on one of the cozy pillows, “how to lose a man in 10 days?”

“Duh” Bambi slipped off his lap and grabbed the remote. "I can’t believe you’ve never watched it”

They settled in together, Ms. Mocha curling up between the two

Bambi snuggled closer as the opening credits of the movie began to roll, “I love you,” she said kissing his bicep that was secure around her shoulder and neck

Drew threaded their fingers together “I love you more bambi ”

© fawnhart

[deantfwinchester]

Love Me Right

Part 1: Henrietta’s

Pairing: ConstructionCEO!Joel x Waitress!Reader

She's eventually gonna be a teacher again bc let's be real, i'm a one-trick pony.

This is a Millionaire Joel AU x Most Eligible Bachelor Trope

Summary: Joel Miller, CEO and Co-Founder of Miller Construction, hasn't been dealing with an Empty Nest very well. His family and friends have tried their best to cheer him up since Sarah left for college in the fall, but the storm cloud above his head remains. On top of that (or perhaps because of it), he has just been named one of Austin's Most Eligible Bachelors.

What will that mean for the new-in-town waitress he meets in his favorite diner? As far as she knows, he's just an average contractor.

Warnings: age gap (reader late 20s, Joel late 40s); family-centered trauma and conflict; lethal levels of fluff otw

A/N: Bear with me for this one y'all. My imagination is ambitious and my brain is obstinate. Title inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s Short ‘n Sweet - bc i can’t stop fckn listening to Juno 🫣

Word Count: 4.6k

_______________________________________________

“Tommy, there ain’t a chance in hell that’s gonna happen. Why on earth did you bring this to me?”

“Well they talked to Joanna at the front desk first. She said wasn’t going to bring it up to you, but I couldn’t just let it slide,” Tommy raises his eyebrows at Joel, shooting him a mischievous look. “Because one - I wasn’t gonna pass up the chance to see this look on your face, and two - would a little publicity be so bad?”

“Who in their right mind is gonna choose a fuckin contractor from the goddamn ‘society pages’?” Joel bristles at his brother’s amusement with an unwavering scowl.

Tommy stares right back, but the playful nature of his expression is unmarred. “Most men won’t Joel - but their wives will.” Tommy’s salacious grin is damn near wider than Joel’s ever seen. Christ, he’s loving this.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Joel says plainly, rolling his eyes.

“Come on brother, think about it - plenty of busy men in this city with bored housewives in need of a project. He tosses her a few thousand to redo the dining room - well who’s gonna do the job? She hasn’t got a clue where to begin and then BOOM! She sees the list of Austin’s Most Eligible Bachelors in the paper - where she finds a photo of the distinguished CEO and senior founder of Miller Construction—”

“Senior, seriously?,” Joel deadpans at him. Tommy ignores him, continuing to wax poetic.

“And can’t help but wonder if the rest of his staff is as dashing as he appears to be,”

“Flattery’s cheap Tommy.”

“Of course then she meets with me and the deal is sealed.” Tommy smiles smugly now that his story is complete.

“Boy can you paint a picture,” responds Joel, rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics. “So you wanna parade me around like a two-bit hooker, huh?

“Whaddya say — can I give ‘em a call?”

“If you’re so hell-bent on ‘marketing’ why don’t you do it?” Joel says flippantly.

“Well I’m not a bachelor anymore, am I?,” he grins brightly at him. This time, it’s sincere.

“Don’t break your arm pattin' yourself on the back, Tommy. Maria mighta said yes, but there ain’t a ring on your finger yet. She’s still got a few months to wise up,” Joel challenges, his tone playful.

Tommy glares at him, but then gives a sobered nod. “You’re right about that. I know I’m a lucky fucker, and I’m not interested in testing that luck - even for a charity auction. Sorry to the dogs, or the food bank or — is it old people?”

“Hell bent on it, and don’t even know what it’s for? Christ - it’s a Make-A-Wish thing Tommy, damn,” Joel replies, looking bewildered at his brother’s callous and cavalier response.

“And isn’t your attention and concern for the bigger picture just what they need in volunteers?” Tommy retorts, expression still smug but eyes hopeful. “What, ‘s it gonna kill you to go out for once? It’ll be a formality at worst and maybe even a good time if you loosen up a bit.”

“I can think of a number of other ‘worsts’ than a formality,” Joel muses

“You’re gentleman enough to handle it just fine,” Tommy continues.

It has been quite a while since Joel’s been out of his house for much other than work or routine, and even longer since he’s been out with anyone other than Tommy, Maria, and the guys from work here and there. He’ll admit, he hasn’t been dealing with an empty nest very well. He’s done a pretty terrible job of keeping busy since he dropped Sarah off at school back in the fall. She’d gotten in exactly where she’d hoped, and made friends fast - for this he was over the moon - but he misses her like crazy. He’s been swimming back and forth in swelling pride and stabbing grief since September, ecstatic and aching all at once. He knew Tommy’s intentions were relatively pure, business interest aside. He knows they’ve been worried about him for a couple of months now - they haven’t exactly been subtle — they’d started having him over for dinner damn near once a week.

This newfound hobby of Tommy’s, cooking like a grown-up, had become the ruse en vogue for getting Joel out of his house. As Maria’s caseload grew at the law firm, Tommy wanted to make sure she had a real meal to eat when she finally got home — so he started cooking. Joel had to admit it was real sweet, watching his brother dive headfirst into learning a new skill just to take care of his bride-to-be. He claimed it only made sense with his far more flexible schedule, but Joel knew it made Tommy proud to be able to do this for her, and the very fact he wanted to made Joel proud as well.

Once Sarah left for school, however, Tommy quickly discovered his brother’s less-than-satisfactory habits of microwave dinners or forgetting to eat in general. He was a fair chef in his own right once upon a time, but without his little girl there to feed, bothering to make a balanced meal fell by the wayside. Joanna, a kindly woman in her seventies, had been one of the first to notice the change in Joel’s demeanor and the drawn nature of his features. Not much younger than the boys’ mother would be today, Joanna worked at the front desk of Miller Construction, greeting clients with a maternal warmth that, Tommy had to admit, was in part strategic. Disarm a client while they wait with a smile and you’d be able to pry open their hearts and their pockets.

Joanna was not unaware of the role she played in this game, though she did not approve. She’d informed Tommy of her concern for Joel, and the regular dinner invitations followed suit. This, accompanied with Joanna’s tugging Joel along to a nearby diner for lunch a couple of times a week in November had practically pulled Joel through the fall slump and into the new year. The holiday visits home from Sarah had helped a great deal, as well.

Joel wasn’t blind to his friends and family’s kahoots to help him through this patch. Though he sometimes grudgingly obliged to Joanna’s pestering him out the door because she hadn’t “seen you eat a bite all day. Four cups of black coffee don’t count, and you know it. Up!,” or Tommy’s employing Maria to send a text herself inviting him to dinner after he’d tried and simply received the finger, he was grateful for their efforts and care. Sarah was too, but he didn’t need to know that. Those lunchtime diner visits soon turned into breakfasts — a preemptive measure on Joanna’s part to add some time out in public to Joel’s routine of home — office — work site — home. Eventually she’d pavolv-ed him into it, and Joel was at the diner for coffee, breakfast, and one of the only physical newspapers left in existence every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at first following behind Joanna and eventually on his own.

Joanna had been with the Miller brothers since the business was far smaller, just a few years after its inception, when they started needing a receptionist/secretary/assistant, just someone who knew how to manage their slowly growing demand. She’d been a friend of their mother’s and had taken up some of the slack when she’d passed, grieving alongside her friend’s sons and looking after them in her wake. She’d been one of the only reasons Joel and Tommy had been able to build the tiny Miller Bros. into its current position as Miller Construction, multi-million-dollar contracting firm, and the largest in the Austin Metro area. Joel’s practical thinking and creativity combined with Tommy’s ambition and idealistic hopes of grandeur got them into successful meetings with investors that Joanna quietly set up via her husband’s business contacts. Their vision reminded her so much of their mother’s optimism she couldn’t help herself. She’d keep an eye on Sarah when Joel needed and ensured they were taken care of in the moments they would have needed their mother around.

As the boys’ surrogate mother figure and Sarah’s Aunt Jo, it came as no surprise that amid Joel’s season of empty-nested loneliness Joanna had begun encouraging him to “get back out there” and claimed that she “won’t be around forever” and “would like to see him settled before I go.” Classic maternal guilt-tripping, and Joel told her each time that he hears 70 is the new 50. She told him to try that again in a few years when he hits the real 50.

Truth of the matter was, Joel had been alone for a long time. He’d seen people on and off while Sarah was growing up, but it was a rare occasion, and no fling had ever lasted more than a couple of months. With Sarah at home, it never mattered much to Joel — he had someone to care for who was the best company he’d ever had right in front of him. She’d needed him a little less as she’d grown up, but he always had a purpose.

Joel was a natural-born caretaker — between brotherhood and fatherhood, he took to it like a tadpole to water. With Sarah away at school and his little brother engaged, however, he couldn’t figure out where to put all that love, and so it crackled into grief like a blackening candle wick, blooming into a flower of ash that nestled in his chest. The cloud of soot hovered around him for a while as he went through the motions of his everyday. Tommy, Maria, and Joanna all wanted to see him find his way again, as did Sarah when she received honest reports from her family members after some prodding. He always put on his biggest smile for her, never wanting her to worry, but she could see something hurting in his eyes, just below the surface.

While it may have been blatantly out of his comfort zone, Tommy and Joanna jumped at the opportunity to convince Joel when the Most Eligible Bachelors’ Auction came knocking. He needed something to disrupt his routine, with the added bonus of his coming out into the social scene like a plaid-clad debutante with a few extra crow’s feet.

After rolling the last few months’ events around in his mind for a couple of minutes while Tommy answers a phone call, Joel is broken from his reverie. Tommy’s standing in front of him again, waving a hand back and forth.

“Hey ground control - you with me?,” he asks before Joel’s eyes focus on him once again. “Can I give em a call?,” and this time Joel notices the concern in Tommy’s eyes as his joking facade flickers with hope. It’s more than just publicity, and he owes it to them to give it a shot.

Joel releases a measured sigh, relenting. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but sure, fuck it. Call ‘em back,” he says rolling his eyes, resigning himself to whatever nonsense his participation will entail. He reminds himself it’s for charity, and returns to his computer, refocusing on his work as Tommy darts out of his office to return to his own, reporting his success to Joanna along the way.

_______________________________________________

You got lucky with this job at Henrietta’s, with its flexible hours and fairly livable wage, you had time to settle into your new place and get to know the city. You spend your off days wandering around, doing research on local schools and prepping your applications for summer school and the new year.

Never had you pictured yourself leaving students mid-year, and having to do it hurt like hell. You missed the kids you left behind every day, but when a friend caught wind of an acquaintance needing a subletter for a little studio within your price range, you didn’t have much of a choice. You needed to take up the lease starting in January, or you’d be starting over at square one. It had been a long time coming, this encroaching need to run and start over somewhere new. Staying in your hometown was no longer an option — work may have been a saving grace, but the other areas of your life were suffering. You knew healing couldn’t begin without separation. You needed to be far away from everything — it was the only way you could picture trying to feel whole again. Grad school had ended the previous year, so you fled.

With each mile you put between you and your family, you started to feel like your lungs could fully inflate once again. The oppressive air of scrutiny and memory that swam around you at home dropped off piece by piece with each passing mile marker. You’d put a few states between yourself and your parents once it was all said and done, and while it was scary, starting from scratch all over again, it was invigorating. You’d done it at eighteen when you left for college, you could damn well do it again with eight years’ more life experience under your belt.

You’d walked into the diner on your second day in the city. You had some money saved up from time living at home, but knew it would dwindle quickly with rent to pay and no salary coming in on the regular. You would need something to keep busy and pay for necessities until the end of the spring semester. When Diane, the manager caught sight of you, bright-eyed and looking like a deer in headlights, she welcomed you with a warmth you’d only read about in books. She interviewed you then and there and offered you a job on the spot, waiting tables on the breakfast and lunch shifts at least four days a week. She told you your “sweet smile and wide-eyed look will do wonders for you in tips, precious!” You think it’s probably just teacher face you can’t shake, and hope she’s right — maybe it could do you some favors until you get back in the classroom where you belong.

Diane’s rounded face was accentuated with wonderfully deep crow’s feet and smile lines that suggested a lifetime of sharing this warmth, and her dark hair streaked with gray around her hairline and temples rested atop her head in a frazzled bun. She made you comfortable out the gate, and had set you up with a uniform immediately. More aptly, she handed you a t-shirt and an apron to go over your leggings. You were thankful for the relaxed dress code, knowing plenty of other establishments required a much more specific ensemble. Once you’d changed she introduced you to your shift lead, Reggie, and the line-cook-on-duty, Tony, patting you comfortingly on the shoulder and insisting they welcome you, hoping to keep you around to solve their persistent staffing issue.

While Diane was quite a bit older than you, somewhere in her mid-fifties, Reggie and Tony were younger, floating between mid-thirties and early forties, if you had to guess. Reggie was a slim black man you’d put in his thirties, and he greeted you with a smile and an exclamation that he was more than ready to gossip ad nauseum with someone so much closer to his age. He’d been the one to fill you in on Diane’s immediate taking to you, letting you know with little ambiguity that you were just a few years younger than Diane’s daughter, who had moved out of the city about a year ago, and that you favored her to boot. Reggie had called this particular gossip session your orientation.

“Don’t get me wrong honey, Diane’s a sweetheart. But never have I seen her offer a position on the spot. I think having you here may do her some good,” he’d said, before turning to fill you in on Tony the line cook. “Yeah Tony’s hot, but he chain smokes like a chimney and doesn’t care at all when I ask him to keep his second hand smoke to himself on the days I have a performance!,” he shouted pointedly at Tony, who only looked up long enough to give Reggie the finger and wink at you. Tony was a muscular Italian guy in his forties with tattoos of a sort that didn’t quite match up with the gold chain and cross pendant hanging around his neck. When your eyes went wide at the wink, Reggie giggled a bit and leaned toward you. “Don’t worry, Tony’s a little sleazy but harmless. He’ll hit on anything in a skirt, but as soon as you tell him you aren’t interested he’ll back off and won’t bring it up again. He’s a good guy, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Over the course of your shift you discovered that Diane’s been at Henrietta’s for fifteen years, Reggie is a drag queen and lounge singer by the name of Wizz Tiria at a few different clubs around town, and Tony has a few other business ventures he mentions on and off (the details of which he keeps to himself), but never misses taking his Mom to church on Sundays. You share a good bit about yourself as well in exchange — what brought you to Austin, why now, and where you may go from here. It doesn’t take long for you to make yourself at home among this eclectic little bunch, and for the first time in a really, really long time, you’re content with the peaceful monotony of these early winter days.

_______________________________________________

It’s a brisk February morning when you walk into the diner for your shift. You’ve spent the last month working in the cozy little greasy spoon, so you’re still getting to know the regulars, but you’ve caught on pretty quick. You’ve been working the Tuesday, Thursday, and weekend shifts, but when Diane loses another server, you’re eager to pick up the slack — extra pocket change and keep your mind busy. The company’s pretty good too. Thus, you find yourself walking into the diner at 7 AM on a Wednesday morning with a hoodie over your t-shirt and a scarf to ward off more of the wind cutting into your cheeks. You head to the staff room to remove your hoodie and don your apron and emerge, finding the diner a bit colder than it had been up to this point. You’d kept a light jacket or a cardigan on you previously, but today’s need for something heavier led you to selecting a favorite hoodie to throw over your work t-shirt — which you didn’t quite think through until you came into the dining room and felt a chil run up your spine. Diane catches sight of you before you can still yourself.

“Sweetie, what on earth fo you think you’re doing?,” she asks like you’ve done something obviously egregious.

“Huh? What is it?,” you ask innocently, but you know the answer. She can probably see the goosebumps you feel rising on your arms.

“You need somethin’ on under that, you’re gonna freeze in here today!,” she chastises.

“Yeah, I brought my hoodie, but forgot I’d be taking it off. It’s not so bad in here, I’ll be alright,’ you tell her reassuringly.

“Absolutely not. Wait, hold on a second - REGGIE! We got any more o’ those long sleeve souvenir shirts in the case?!” she hollers after him.

“Hold awn!,” he hollers back, Southern twang taking center stage when he yells, just like the rest of them. After a few seconds he emerges with a few in hand. “Got a few left. Ugly as hell, probably why they’re still here. Watcha need ‘em for?”

“Sweetie, go on and change into that before the rush starts. Not the staff shirt, but the branding’ll be fine in case Jason drops by,” she says, rolling her eyes. She pats you on the shoulder, nudging you toward Reggie to take one of the shirts. They’re bright green with a gaudy design on them that makes you laugh when he hands it to you. Jason’s the owner of Henrietta’s, and so you’ve heard, the bane of Diane’s existence. You’ve only heard tale of this rotten Jason thus far, never quite laying eyes on the mythical beast. You really hope today in this goofy shirt isn’t the day you do.

You return to the dining room a few minutes later clad in the neon green monstrosity, tugging at it in a futile effort to make it look better. “Happy now, Diane?!,” you holler as you enter, only to find her standing directly in front of you at the hostess stand, face to face with a man you’d never seen in here before — who you almost run right into, not looking where you’re going. He’s tall and broad with dark brown curls laced with grey streaks, and gray patches in the short beard that frames his jaw. He catches you when you nearly bump right into him, and you look up to meet the deepest brown eyes you’ve ever encountered. Your cheeks go red when you realize what you’ve done.

“Whoa there,” he says, smiling down at you as you stutter out an apology. “It’s alright, no harm done,” he responds, voice gentle but deep. It’s true, he didn’t even budge when he caught you, and you’re fairly certain if you’d fallen, the outcome would’ve been the same.

“Sorry about that Joel. C’mon, your table’s ready,” she says, patting Joel’s arm and leading him forward, not before turning back to you and saying, “Certainly am. Now go grab some coffee for Table 7 for me, will ya sweetie?” with a smile. You’d just run almost smack into a customer, and she wasn’t upset with you or anything. You shouldn’t be surprised, that’s just Diane, but you’re used to much larger reactions to small mistakes. You just nodded and breathed a sigh of relief, but your eyes are drawn once again to the man she’s leading away. He’s looking back at you with a smile that sends a shiver down your spine, one you’re certain has nothing to do with the chill in the air this time. He’s wearing a plaid button-down and a utility jacket, with cheeks and a nose tinged pink from the cold. You tear your eyes away anxiously and head for the coffee pot.

You’ve got your hand around the decaf pot, pouring another cup for the regular at the bar counter, when your eyes find Table 7, your next destination. You see the man, Joel, Diane had called him, with his back to you, facing out the window, newspaper in hand. You steel yourself once again, switch coffee pots, and head for his table.

You approach from the side, hoping not to spook him as he’s engrossed in the paper he has in hand. Christ, when was the last time you saw a physical newspaper? It’s kinda cute, you think, seeing someone reading one on a cold morning with a cup of coffee. So picturesque. Especially someone as handsome as he is, and you find yourself staring at his broad shoulders and dark curls again before he looks up from his reading.

“Hey,” you start, a little shaky, “sorry again, about before. Don’t know what I was doing, not looking where I was going,” you smile a little, shaking your head at your mishap.

“Really, it’s fine. You seemed, uh, preoccupied,” he says, looking down at the offending design on the tshirt you’re wearing, before looking back up at you. “It’s certainly a change from the regular uniform, huh?” he says, smiling at you. The way his eyes crinkle as he does plants a warmth in your chest you aren’t expecting. It’s been so long since you felt it, it’s almost unfamiliar. Your cheeks warm as you smile back at him, hoping it comes off as embarrassment from your wardrobe rather than bashful attraction. You’re about to tell him it’s certainly not a permanent solution, when he speaks again. “So, Sweetie, huh? Haven’t seen you around before — that what they call you in here?” he questions, smirk playing at his lips.

You laugh in response and introduce yourself, and tell him this isn’t your normal shift, but you’ll probably be around for it moving forward. You take his breakfast order, and tell him you’ll let him get back to his paper.

You don’t converse much more when you bring Joel his breakfast, just quiet thanks when you refill his coffee cup. He looks so peaceful, you almost hate to interrupt each time. You ask Reggie about him when you both have a minute behind the counter.

“Yep, that’s Joel. Gorgeous, isn’t he? Started coming in a few months back with an older lady, then more regularly by himself. She’s with him once in a while, kinda seems like a mom vibe, but she doesn’t look like him. Anyway, I think he works construction or something, always coming in with those boots on looking like a lumberjack,” Reggie says flippantly. “Heard from the older lady one day when he was in the bathroom — his daughter went to college back in the fall, they’ve been trying to get him out ever since,” he said, looking sympathetic at the thought.

You feel your heart do a little squeeze at this newfound tidbit. A fresh empty nester. You know how hard it’s been for Diane, so much she’s taken to parenting the staff in her daughter’s stead. Staring at Joel’s back as his head is bowed reading the paper, you begin wondering more and more about him. His daughter’s probably around eighteen, so how old is he? You’d guess he isn’t married, and you didn’t see a ring. Who is he? Why does he come here to read his paper each day? And most importantly — how soon can you find out the answers to these questions? You don’t want to ambush him at all and scare him off, but you’re drawn to him, and so very curious.

Meanwhile, Joel is stealing glances at your reflection in the diner window in front of him, watching you laugh with Reggie and the customers at the bar, smiling sweetly when someone makes a request of you. He needs to get out of there before he starts feeling creepy, he thinks. He rises and walks to the counter to settle his bill with Reggie at the cash register, glancing at you when he does so, futilely trying to balance showing interest and being weird. He leaves a nice tip in the jar for all of you to share, but just before he turns to go, he looks back at you, locking eyes.

“Oh uh, Sweetie?,” he says, smirk on his face. He looks almost bashful when he speaks next, like he’s working up the courage. “Glad you’re picking up. Look forward to seein’ you again,” he smiles. The look on his face when he says it is so sincere, you could melt on the spot. He was nervous about his joke, you could tell, but recovered when you laughed in reply.

“Looking forward to it too, Joel. Enjoy your day,” you say, smiling wide in return. He gives a little wave to everyone before grinnig down at his shoes and walking out of the diner into the crisp February air. Your eyes follow him out to the pick-up he hops into, before looking back over to Reggie and Tony, staring at you devilishly.

“And I’m looking forward to seeing this story unravel,” says Reggie, looking over at Tony and grinning, like something juicy has just unfolded before their eyes. The two are laughing while you smile and wave them off, wiping down the counter. Diane emerges from the office at the sound of their hearty laughter, reading glasses slipping down her nose, notepad in hand, and stares back at the three of you.

“What’d I miss?!,” she asks. You’re smiling too much to respond with anything genuine, so you return to your wiping, and let Reggie take the lead.

[thedissonantverses]

Let’s Talk Taash, Or How Neurodivergence Relates to Gender Identity:

I’ve tried to write my feelings on Taash multiple times now but realized I need to break it down into parts. I relate to Taash on so many levels it’s kind of insane. I’m biracial, queer, neurodivergent, and had a parent I had a complicated with relationship with who died before we resolved any of our issues with each other. I can breathe fire too but it’s a secret.

I’m far from the first person who’s noticed how heavily Taash is autistic coded. The hyperfixation on dragons, blunt patterns of speech, the strong sense of justice amongst other things.

If you can’t tell by the everything about me, I have a searing case of ADHD and would like to get retested for autism. I am not even remotely kidding one of the things that drew me to Dragon Age were the dragons because of that hyperfixation. There’s a reason I’ve spent years pouring over every bit of lore and doing meta analysis. I just…really like dragons….

One other thing to understand is that I have chafed against the gender binary my whole life. I’m a cis woman but to say my feelings around gender are complicated is underselling it. I know perfectly well I can lead saw crews in the woods and wear dresses and shave most of my head and still be a woman, but I’ll be damned if people don’t try to police my gender still at 32 years old. One of the reasons it was so easy for me to accept gender as a social construct was because I knew it was bullshit but was still expected to contort myself into some version of a “woman” that never made any sense. I use she/they pronouns as a result.

Like a wise protagonist once said “Being a woman shouldn’t hurt.”

I was listening to an autistic non-binary man speak and he said it better than I ever could, but when he sits in a room by himself he doesn’t have a concept of gender. He use he/they pronouns but he realized it’s because all of his masks are male. It hit me like a truck then that yeah, most of my masks are modeled after my mom.

I don’t know if other neurodivergent people relate, but it’s one of the reasons I’m so attached to Taash. This struggle against identity and the culture in your house and around you is something I’ve dealt with my whole life. It took a lot of struggle for me to get as comfortable in my own skin as I am now. Taash is my hero because they’re unapologetically who they are in the face of that struggle.

Shokra to ebra.

[brodygold]

Because He’s Hot

(All characters are 18+)

Jared was never one for sports. Or people in general for that matter. He was a shy introvert among shy introverts. Being gay made things even worse in his small, tight knit community. He was expected to look and act a certain way, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was a true outcast and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Being in his senior year of high school, he couldn’t wait to move away and never see anyone here again.

Sometimes though, life doesn’t give you what you want. As Jared sat outside at the bus stop on his way home, a stranger came up and sat down next to him. Grumbling to himself, Jared turned to look at him.

“Damn,” he thought. “He’s hot.”

The stranger was everything Jared liked in a guy: tall, athletic (if the shiny gold soccer jersey he had on meant anything), and had a great smile that could light up any room. His smile was so warm and welcoming, Jared almost forget he was going to tell the guy to leave him alone.

“Hey there. Name’s Brody. This bus heading to the soccer field?”

Jared gulped, not remembering how to form words for a second. He normally wasn’t one for talking to strangers, but thought he might as well answer him. Brody was hot after all.

“Oh. Um. Yeah. It does.”

“Great. Thanks man. I was supposed to catch a ride with my teammates but had something come up. You going to the field for tryouts?”

Oh that’s right. Jared remembered the jocks at school mentioning something about that. How some group called the Golden Army was in town holding tryouts to get people to join. There was no way he’d be caught dead around that group though. Right?

“I’m good, thanks. It’s not really my scene.”

“That’s alright bro. What is your scene?”

Jared paused and looked away at that. Well he tried to at least. Brody’s perfect smile was still drawing him in. God, those lips looked so kissable.

“Don’t really have one…” he eventually squeaked out.

“Well, if you want to, we’d love to have you, bro. We could be your scene. You could be a real bro.”

The idea almost made Jared laugh. Him, a bro and a jock? Who knew this handsome man was also funny? Still, a thought creeped into his mind. If he tried out, he could avoid his annoying parents and see this stud even longer.

“Might as well. What do I have to lose?”

Brody clapped Jared on the back. Jared blushed at the contact. “That’s the spirit bro! I got the perfect thing for you actually.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a golden jersey, shimmering in the sunlight. He held it out to Jared, who took it in his hands. It was so soft, almost melting in his hands.

Was he really about to put on this jersey just because some guy told him to?

Yeah, because he’s hot, Jared thought as he put it on over his hoodie.

He felt a tingle as soon as he put it on. He didn’t notice how his hoodie and ripped jeans vanished and turned into a pair of black soccer shorts, leaving him slightly chilly in the crisp fall air. Nor did he notice his skinny arms and legs becoming filled with muscle or his chest becoming two pillow pecs. His shaggy hair become a perfect sporty cut, the color turning from blonde to brown.

He was too busy staring at Brody and his smile. He certainly didn’t notice Brody’s eyes glow bright gold, drawing him in even more.

Jared memories and mannerisms disappeared the more he stared. The quiet, nerdy, outcast of a guy turned into a true social butterfly, hanging out with his bros any chance he got, on or off the field. Even the name Jared felt like a distant memory, being replaced with Jackson, a perfect name for a hot jock.

Brody’s eyes finally stopped their golden glow, a knowing smile on his face.

“You ready for tryouts, Jackson?”

“Hell yeah, Captain bro! Let’s go!”

Jackson felt so pumped for tryouts and knew with Brody by his side, the two could accomplish anything.

Why? Because they’re hot!

[xo-myloves]

I have another request but i dont wanna be the weird bitch who keeps asking for imagines lmao 😫😫😫😫 but like if you ever feel like it and you don't need to write it right now or anything BUT IF YOU WANT TO could you do a slash(him rn, oldie) imagine when y/n is friends with london and his relationship isnt going well so Y/N is like his young side bitch LMAO 👉👈😮‍💨 so whenever he fights with his wife he comes to you and like you cook for him and you watch movies etc and y/n makes him feel young and whatever else and HOT!!!!!!!!!!! I WANT THIS MAN NAKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I really love your writing btw 🫶

it’s okay request as much as you want 😋

(Omg this photo from when he was in velvet revolver🙂‍↔️)

WARNING ‼️ (smut, fingering, pet names, overstimulation, age gap,) I think that’s all🥲

𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴 𝙸𝚂𝙽𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰��𝚂 𝙱𝙰𝙳

I’ve been friends with this guy named London, he used to go to my high school until we graduated, and we stayed in touch, and guess fucking what, this motherfuckers dad was slash.

Yes the slash.

The fucking guitar player for Guns ‘N’ Roses, my favorite band of all time, I grew up on them, my dad basically raised me on them, and I even started playing guitar because of slash, and now I knew the fucker?

Did I tell London this? No fucking way, he would never let me over, it had to be obvious though, every time I go over there, I’m like a horny spaze over his father, and best believe when I graduated, I lived there basically, did slash have a wife. Yes.

That’s didn’t fucking stop me.

I would always be around him, like a lost puppy, London didn’t notice as much, but slash had too. It was pathetic, wearing subjective clothing, and showing off my breasts since I knew he had a thing for them, it’s not like I haven’t seen his instagram.

But it didn’t seem wrong, we were close, did his wife hate me? Fucking probably, but I honestly didn’t care, she was a bitch to him, and I know I could treat him better.

All I wanted was to be with that man, he was everything I ever wanted, he was a huge horror movie fan, loved music, fucking played the music I loved, and we loved a lot of the same topics, and when I would sleepover, I would go downstairs, knowing slash was a night owl, we would just sit on his couch and talk for hours.

Recently something has been off, London didn’t want to tell me, but I could tell slash and meegan were having problems, I heard them arguing earlier in the day, I tried to talk to him, but he pushed me away, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, it honestly made me upset.

All I wanted was to hold him and play with his hair and tell him how great he is, how he doesn’t deserve her, how I could be better. I can be better. I would be better.

And tonight was like any other night, I was sleeping over at Londons house, I was sitting in his room, bored as all hell, he was out, snoring and everything, so I made my way downstairs, originally wanting to get water, but kinda wishing slash was down there. Maybe I could talk to him about everything.

I tried to be quiet walking down the stairs, they were always so damn creaky.

As I made my way down to the stairs, I heard panting almost? I was confused, as I got to the bottom step, I saw the back of slash head, only his silhouette, since the TV was on, it lit him up.

But his head was throw back, and I realized he was the one that was panting, I got closer to only see him jerking himself off, my legs almost gave up on themselves.

My heat pooled, felt like it was going down my legs, I put my hand over my mouth, trying not to make a sound, but I had a wave of confidence go threw my body, and I walked right up to him, standing in front of him.

Trying not to cringe at myself, I hated being confident, but around him, I felt like I could.

“Oh shit, fuck, sorry.” Slash looked up in worry, covering himself, getting the blanket next to him, I started nodding my head “no” right away.

“No, no, no it’s okay, let me help.” I whispered the last part, sitting down next to him, he raised an eyebrow, I tried to put my head in his thigh and I wanted to rub it up to his member, but he stopped my hand with his.

His eyes went big, I could see his member through the blanket, my pussy was throbbing at this point, “y/n… come on, you know we can’t.” He had a smile on his face, it almost like he wanted too, but he knew he couldn’t.

I smiled at him back, there was so much sexual tension, it wasn’t even funny, are hands were still on top of each others, “slash, let me make you feel good.” I whined to him, squeezing his hand slightly, he looked around, then grabbed my waist, putting me in his lap, grabbing my face, and slamming his lips onto mine.

I felt euphoric. I felt like I was on cloud 9, I have always wanted this moment, for fucking years. Feeling his shaft under me, was… I couldn’t even explain.

His hands traveled to my ass, his hands were soft, yet rough, he massaged my ass softly, kissing down my neck, I couldn’t help myself from grinding on him, I saw his eyebrow go up, “you’re one eager little girl, aren’t ya?” He spoke in a soft deep tone.

“I can’t help it, I mean, look where we are.” I giggled, putting my hands around his neck, titling my head, looking into his eyes, before grinding one more time, it was so fucking amazing, I felt him. Since he only had the blanket under him.

“Can you be quiet?” He grinned, kissing my lips once more, slinging his hand that was previously on my ass to the front of my stomach, I looked down as he started to play with the hem of my shorts.

I nodded my head, biting my lips barely, all I needed was him. I needed something. Anything.

He smiled, pulling down my shorts, I lifted up, leaving them on the ground, leaving my only in my Lacey black thongs, his finger tips went down to my clit, playing with it so softly.

My lips parted at his action, my eyes had a glaze over them, he licked his lips, loving how he had me, only after a few touch’s. “Just stay quiet doll.” He smiled, laying a kiss my exposed neck.

I gave a small whimper in response, he brought his full fingers to my clit, rubbing it roughly now, his other hand was behind my neck now, making me look at him.

“Does this feel good honey?” He was so soft, so gentle. I loved every moment. “Yes, yes, it really does.” I whined, as he slide his fingers down to my entrance, teasing it softly, before slipping his middle finger into me.

Pumping it in and out, making me moan quietly, I gasped when he pushed his second digit into me. “Stay quiet, you don’t wanna get in trouble? Don’t ya? We wouldn’t want that now.” He smirked, bringing my head to the crook of his neck.

After he said those words, I was invested, I needed to know what “trouble” was, whatever it was or is, I needed it. Now.

Soooo I started moaning louder, louder than I should’ve, even though I was in his neck, it was definitely still audible, he pulled me by my hair to make me look at him.

“I told you to be quiet, now shut the fuck up.” He gritted through his teeth, I didn’t even notice that he took off the blanket, pulling his fingers out of me, whining at the lost of him, and then he just slammed into me, giving me now warning, and his thrusts were fast and hard.

He wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

My eyes shoot open, mouth parted wider, and I brought myself closer to him. He grabbed my ass, pounding into me, his hand that was on my hair, is now on my mouth, forcing me to be quiet.

Fuck this is going to be a long night.

𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁

“FUCK SLASH, NO MORE, IM SO FUCKING SENSITIVE!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, we were in his bedroom now, he had me bent over his bed, still pounding into me, I already cummed four times…

I know.

I felt a hand slap my ass, and I went to look back, his head was fully back, his thrusts got sloppy, I knew he was close, finally.

He grabbed my hips, using me, not caring what I said, it’s not like it didn’t feel good. It was so much at once.

I loved every moment.

“S-SHIT FUCK.” His voice got higher, shooting his seed into me, coating my walls, my legs trembling, I felt his body weight in my back, after he came he just laid on top of me for a good minute. I giggled softly, at this action, he rolled over next to me, looking to the side at me.

“Well, that was…. Um, unexpected.” He chuckled, moving his hair off his sweaty forehead, grabbing my waist, bringing me closer to his sweaty torso. “ I’ve always wanted to do that.” I mumbled under my breath, he scooted up the bed, laying in the middle of the bed with me in his big muscular arms, his hair tickling my shoulder.

“I know, I know.” He laughed, kissing my cheek, before getting off the bed. “Where ya going?” I looked up, he smiled at me, “I’m fucking showering, I have too many body fluids on me.” I laughed at his joke, realizing he was right.

fuck that was a night.

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝚇𝚃 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶

after a good night sleep in slash’s arms, his shampoo filling my nostrils, having clean clothes on both of our body’s, I was worried his wife was going to walk in on us, but thank fuck she wasn’t coming home anytime soon, she went on a business trip or whatever slash said, I kinda zoned out.

While he was still sleeping like a baby, I decided to be the wife he should have, making him a hearty warm breakfast, when I started cooking the bacon, he immediately got up, walking to the kitchen.

“Are you cooking?” Slash said in a sleepy tone, leaning against the counter, tilting his head, with a big smile on his face, I nodded my head, not looking away from the pan, scared I was going to get burned.

I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, and a kiss on my neck, “you doing this for me doll?” He spoke in a whisper tone, my heart felt so warm at his touch.

“I wanted to show you, I could be a better wife.” I heard a deep chuckle from him, making my panties getting wet all over again, even though my body was covered with bruises, hickeys, marks, anything imaginable.

“You proved that last night doll.”

(Sorry it took so long)

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 5

Harlow

I DON’T HEAR anything else he says. I abruptly rise from my chair, practically tipping it over, and get the fuck out of that cafe as fast as I possibly can.

By the time I reach the patio, my chest is so tight, that I can hardly pull in a lungful of air. I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m going to pass out, and my heart is beating so fast, I can feel it pulsing in my throat.

Fuck.

I know exactly what this is. It’s a panic attack–one of several dozen I’ve had in the last few months. But regardless of how often it happens, each time is just as scary as the last. It never gets easier or less terrifying.

I feel a hand on my arm. “Harlow , are you okay?” Noah. Of course.

I shake my head and struggle to take in big gulps of air. It’s not working. “Breathe, Little Rabbit. In slowly, then out.”

His voice is oddly soothing, but the fact that he thinks he can talk me out of the panic attack that he created is infuriating. I swallow and jerk my

arm out of his grip. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

It takes everything in me to get those two sentences out, but I manage it. “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re obviously having a panic

attack,” he says.

Everyone is still staring at us–even more so now–and that just adds to my anxiety. I need to get out of here. Somewhere safe, quiet. I have a class in a few minutes, but I’m not sure I’ll make it. I have no choice, though. I’m here on a scholarship, which means I can’t afford to be bumped from any of my classes—and the first week is crucial. Each class is only allowed a certain number of students, and if I’m not there to claim my seat, it’ll be taken by someone else.

I force my spine to straighten, and I suck in a deep, strengthening breath. My heart still feels like a jackrabbit thumping against my ribs, but I do my best to ignore it.

“My next class starts in a few minutes. I have to go.” And with that, I turn toward the social science building without waiting for Noah to respond.

Damn. Day two and I’ve already been nearly assaulted, claimed by the campus king, and had a panic attack. I’m starting to think this school has too much drama for me.

But it’s the only school that offered me a full ride, so I guess I’m stuck here.

I book it to the social sciences building and find a seat in my next class. Once I’m settled in the corner, away from everyone else, my heart rate starts going back to normal. Thank God.

I pull my phone out to text Talia .

Just had a full-on panic attack in front of everyone at the cafe.

She texts me back immediately.

You ok?

I type out my response.

Yeah, better now. We were invited to a sorority party tonight. Come with me?

Considering my anxiety level, I probably shouldn’t be going to a party tonight, but I know it’ll cheer Talia up. Besides, with a couple of drinks in my system, I’ll be fine.

My phone pings. It’s Talia .

Sure. Sounds good. I have to meet someone after class, but I’ll text you later.

I shove my phone into my backpack and try to focus on the professor, who is introducing himself, and for the rest of class, I’m just kind of there. Present, but not really paying attention. All I can think about is Noah. Why am I so transfixed by him? He’s such an asshole, and not only that, he’s surrounded by other assholes. I don’t need that in my life.

The queen of bad decisions. That’s me. I should have told Noah to fuck-off last night. Well, I guess I did, but I didn’t follow it up with the vitriol he deserves—and that’s on me.

At some point, Skye texts me with the information for the party, and I forward it to Talia . One of my classes runs kinda late, so rather than have her wait on me, I suggest meeting her at the party.

It’s dark when my last class lets out. About thirty of us pour out of the social sciences building, dispersing in multiple directions.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

A familiar baritone cuts through the crisp evening air, and I shudder. Not from cold, but from awareness spiking in my veins. Noah Sabastian was waiting for me outside the building. This is the third time being accosted by him today.

I keep walking. “Oh, look. It’s you. How do you have so much time to follow me around? Don’t you have your own classes?”

“My building is next to yours,” he replies, keeping step with me.

The physics building. Hm. Maybe the guy is more intelligent than I give him credit for. Or maybe he’s buying his grades, which somehow seems more likely.

“Didn’t we kinda say everything we needed to say this afternoon?” I huff. “Why are you here?”

“It’s dark. We don’t want a repeat of last night, do we?”

I stop and turn toward him abruptly. “Didn’t you say you took care of that? I mean, the guy is in the hospital, right? Sounds like he’s going to be laid up for a while. ”

“You’re dating one of the Sacred Sons, Harlow . He’s not the only one who’ll come after you.”

“First, and foremost, we’re not dating. So let’s get that clear. Second, why would anyone come after me? Why? I’ve been here less than a week. The only questionable thing I’ve done was attend your stupid ceremony.”

And, seriously, I’m looking for less drama in my life, not more

Noah shoves his hands into his pockets and narrows his eyes at me. “Listen, Harlow , I know this campus. I know the people here. Anyone connected with the Sacred Sons will draw attention.”

I start walking again, and he follows. I’m walking toward my residence hall, which thankfully isn’t very far. “If you run this place–like you claim you do—then can’t you just tell people to leave me alone?”

“It’s not that simple.” His voice is tight. “The only way people will leave you alone is if they see us together. If they know you’re under my protection.”

Jezus. “This is beginning to feel like some weird mafia situation.”

We reach my building, and I open the side door. When he amoves to follow me, I turn on my heel and put my hand out, stopping him, “I’m good, thanks. I don’t think anyone is going to accost me in the time it takes to get to my room.”

Just as I turn back to walk through the door, he grabs my wrist. “Are you going to the party tonight?”

If I say yes, I know he’s going to insist on coming, too. Or at the very least, walk me there.

“It’s been a crazy couple of days, and I’m exhausted. I think I might just go to bed early,” I lie

He nods once and releases me. “Text me if you go out.”

Not a chance .

“Sure, whatever.”

When I get upstairs, I stop by Talia 's room and knock. No answer. Her roommate isn’t even around. Not that I expected Talia to be there. She

probably headed over to the party a while ago. She’d never responded to my last text, but she can be a little scattered, and sometimes she forgets to reply.

Emily is on her bed when I enter. Her side of the room is so much cuter than mine. A couple of days ago, both her parents came to help her move in. Her mom, especially, had fussed over her—helping her set up her desk, and arrange the pictures on her wall. Her dad had set her computer up and made sure she was connected to the wifi, and all that.

I’d watched it all with envy.

No one had ever taken care of me like that. Never. Everything I do, I do alone. I’m an only child, and I’ve lived with my grandmother since I was eleven. And my grandmother loves me, but she’s tired and has a lot of health issues. My dad is nearly nonexistent, and my mom doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself. So yeah, she’s not coming here to take me shopping and make my side of the room cute. I doubt she even knows I’m here.

“Hey,” I say as I walk in, tossing my backpack onto my bed. “I’m headed over to a sorority party. You wanna join?”

Emily glances up from her laptop. “Um, I mean, I need to get some reading done for class…”

I open my dresser drawer and pull out a pair of jeans and a tank top. We have a shared bathroom down the hall that I could use to change, but going all the way down there is so annoying, so I decide to just dress here. As soon as I shuck the pants I’m wearing, Emily averts her gaze. I tug my jeans on and replace my baby-T with a plain white tank top.

I’m refreshing my makeup when I make my last-ditch effort to convince Emily to join me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? It might be fun.”

Honestly, I don’t even really want to go myself, but Talia is probably already there, and I really don’t want to walk over alone. Not after what happened last night.

“We could always leave a little early, so you can get your reading done,” I add.

She hesitates for a second, then closes her laptop and sets it aside. “Okay. Maybe just for a little while.”

We’re both ready in about five minutes, and we start heading over to the sorority. It’s only a block away, so it takes us about three minutes to get over there.

The place is a fucking mad house.

The house is beautiful, two stories, and right on the beach. Inside is chaos, though, and as soon as we get there, I text Talia .

I’m here. Where are you?

She doesn’t text back right away, so I leave Emily out on the back patio with a couple of her friends and go in search of Talia .

This place is packed to the gills with hot guys, though, I’ll say that. These guys definitely weren’t at the Burning Crown ceremony last night— which is a point in their favor. The guys here have that chill, beach boy look, which is right up my alley.

Inside, bodies are crushed together, undulating to the rhythm of the music, which is blaring over the din of laughter. As I look for Talia , I grab a drink—a solo cup half filled with cinnamon-flavored whiskey. It tastes like a Red Hots candy and goes down really easy.

I’m three sips in, and already feeling relaxed as I hunt for Talia . But she’s not here. In the span of ten minutes, I’ve looked in every closet and dark corner. I glance at my phone for the millionth time, and there’s still no response from her. Where is she?

I try not to panic, though. She’ll be here. Maybe she met a new friend and she’s just running late, caught up in some random drama. Who fucking knows with her. She’s always been the life of the party, and pretty impulsive. I wouldn’t put it past her to tag along with a group of girls she’d just met.

I don’t see my new friend, Skye, either, so I’m standing alone, just finishing my first drink, when someone sidles up beside me. At first, I don’t even notice. But after a few seconds, I hear a male baritone address me.

“Hey,” he says. “Didn’t I see you at Rush House last night?”

I glance over to see a cute guy with wavy brown hair, dark eyes, and a sweet, wholesome smile. He’s wearing a blue polo and looks like he just stepped off a golf course. I nearly do a double-take, because he looks so out of place here.

“Hi,” I say with a smile, raising my voice so I can be heard over the music. “Yeah, my friend, Talia and I were invited. Are you a member?”

“I’m not supposed to say,” he says with a smile. “I’m Nathan Hearst.”

I nod awkwardly. “Harlow .”

He looks confused and leans in closer to me. His clean, eucalyptus scent envelops me. “I’m sorry, say that again?”

I inch closer to him. “It’s unusual, I know. My mom is weird.” I laugh a little to cut the awkwardness. “It’s Harlow . L-U-X.”

“Oh, Harlow .” His head bobs. “That’s a really cool name.”

“Thanks,” I answer, draining the last of my cinnamon-flavored whiskey. He notices my empty solo cup. “Can I grab you another drink?”

“Oh, thanks. I was drinking the whiskey.” I hand him my cup, and he leaves to refill it. He’s back in under a minute, handing me a fresh cup. I nod, and thank him again, taking a sip.

“You look like you’re searching for someone,” he says, watching the girls in the middle of the room as they twerk against each other.

“Uh, yeah, I’m supposed to meet my friend here. She’s probably on her way,” I say, glancing at my phone. Still no message from her.

“So what are you studying?” he asks.

I tell him what my major is, and we make small talk for a bit—all the while, I’m watching the front door, waiting for Talia to walk through it.

It’s so nice to have a normal conversation with a cute guy, though. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like. All the guys I’ve been involved with over the last couple of years have been both hot as fuck and crazy like a devil—Noah Sabastian included.

This guy is just…normal. And the longer we talk about nothing, the more comfortable I feel. Maybe my luck in guys is actually changing.

Nathan and I are just chatting about nothing when everyone in the house

—and I mean, the entire house—erupts into a roar of excitement. Everyone stomps their feet in a rhythm they all seem to know by heart .

What the…?

Nathan glances at me, and I get the sense he’s trying to gauge my reaction–which, honestly, is just confusion. “Now the party has officially started,” he explains. “The Sons have just arrived.”

[thekittyfox2999]

you’d think a war veteran with a medical degree would simply not care about hands but ooooh!

he loves those things to an unprofessional level

[stizzysupremacy]

…

[starlooove]

Ok I’m glad I’m not crazy someone else said it first - yeah it feels like you can’t introduce an oppressive class and then actually deal with them so you had to go everywhere else

[lesbiansanemi]

I hate working with men

[widowshill]

apropos of going apple picking with @criticalfai1ure and fam im currently drowned in the Visions of r/v doing fall activities

[whiskeyswifty]

.