#why the fuck do I need maths to graduate

[swagging-back-to]

also the people who keep telling me to go to collge are miserably obnoxious. according to my GED tests im already college level in every single subject. in reading and science i had the highest score possible. everything else was one point below the maximum score. going to college is a waste of my time, literally.

#this isnt a brag post this is a rant post #why the fuck would i torture myself with college when im already comparable to a college graduate #i dont need a stupid piece of paper #like seriously even in math im comparable to college students. i got 5 less than the maximum score in math. my absolute weakest subjuct #is 5 points below maximum scores. I LITERALLY DO NOT NEED COLLEGE. the people who work there and conduct the tests #DID go to college and they all told me they scored considerably less than me. a few of them said they barely scored passing scores. #So the people who graduate could possibly and are literally worse off than i am. #why. why would i waste 4+ years of my life and potentially hundres of thousands of dollars and make myself miserably #miserable**** #just shut up #every single time you fuckers tell me to go to college i am more and more convinced it's a waste of my time #and no i dont need to have a specific occupation title in mind for me to be successful. it's called being flexible #if i dont take up the jobs available i will starve. taking whatever job i can is better than waiting around for the world to give you every #thing on a silver platter. like seriously shut up you sound so entilted and ignorant to the realities of REALITY. #my entire fucking life it has been nothfing but people hounding me over college. LITERALLY since i was 5 fucking years old. #they had us write college essays for scholarships in second grade. #every field trip was to a college. we went to easily every single college in the state at least once. #every single fucking time i hated it more and more and i wanted to go less and less. #it enrages me. it makes me shake with hatred. it is such a fucking scam and yet everyone does free fucking advertising for it #why the FUCK do you give a SINGLE SHIT about what i choose to do or not to do in terms of collge. why the FUCK do you assume #that college is feasible for everyone in any way. (finacially emotionally physically etc etc) just fuck off serious fucking ly #rant #college is a scam #anti college

[waitingforminjae]

just got a 13 on my math placement assessment ✌️

#being bad at math is my sexiest trait btw #this whole thing is such bullshit btw like i'm just trying to get into basic college algebra not like. trig iv for astrophysicists #SO WHY DO I NEED TO A PLACEMENT TEST???????? JUST LET ME INTO THE FUCKING CLASS!!!!!!!! #FUCK #for context i got a 29 on the unproctered practice exam #i test bad in addition to being bad at math 😘 #rc goes to college #JUST LET ME INNNNNNN SO I CAN FUCKING GRADUATE GOD!!!!!!!

[ode2rin]

by design, you became mine

pairing. mikage reo x gn!reader

genre. fluff & highschool or teenage romance !

warnings/content. 3k+ wc | profanity | mentions of food | timeline is set before blue lock ! | reo and reader is in their sophomore year in highschool | reader is a bit mean to reo (not in an extreme way, just in a normal teenager-y way) and reo is a sore loser in love | and this is me trying the grumpy x sunshine (obv reo) trope ! | half-assed proofread btw | some parts might be ooc reo but it's fine hehe

summary: reo asks you to tutor him after failing an exam in which he oddly looks happy about

“the teacher said i need to be tutored,” a voice tinged with amusement reached your ears.

looking up, you saw reo mikage standing right in front of you, his million-dollar smile lighting up his face, as he held out a math test paper marked with a big, bleeding red ‘F.’

and for someone who had just allegedly received the lowest score possible on such an important exam, he was definitely grinning a little too much.

“and why should that concern me?” you shot back, hoping to hide your indifference. 

your annoyance seeped into your words, not meant to sound rude, but you craved some peace during your lunch break. hunger gnawed at your stomach, and this interruption wasn't helping.

he shrugged casually, as if the situation were no big deal. if you had received such a grade, you would not be smiling right now, let alone treat this situation nonchalantly. “well, the teacher did mention i could ask anyone. and since you're undoubtedly one of the smartest in the class, it only makes sense to choose you, right?”

with sarcasm making its way to your tongue and translating to your voice, you retorted, “oh, is that so? do you find me worthy of your esteemed company, young master?”

as the son and sole heir of the mikage corp, reo was trained to be an exceptional conversationalist, and there had been only a few instances when he couldn't form a response right away. this one, however, might be the longest he got a cat to get his tongue. reo feels like he’s having a heartburn from your remark, it’s pathetic.

ever so impatient, you, who only wanted to get back to your lunch, beat him to a reply, saying, “what if i refuse?”

quickly recovering from the unexpected turn of events, reo let out a dramatic gasp, “do you not care about my future? what if i don't graduate on time and can't get a job?”

that must be the most bullshit reason you've ever heard from the heir of a business tycoon. you're pretty sure his future is much clearer than any blue sky. but sure, you can play along.

“fine.”

“really?” 

sensing an out-of-place joy in his tone, you raised a brow. was he that thrilled to be tutored?

“i'm sure. now, can i return to my lunch?”

reo's eyes widened a bit as he realized that he was interrupting your meal. hurriedly, he bid you goodbye with a smile.

even with your sarcastic retorts, he walked away, still smiling. his grin was a telltale sign of how much trouble you had just signed up for. 

stupid reo and his stupid, handsome smile.

smiling to yourself, you couldn't help but wonder how he managed to receive such a mark in the first place. you had known him since freshman year (it’s hard not to know him), and you knew that the mikage heir was a born genius. so, could this be a mishap? probably. oh well, he couldn't be so difficult to teach.

you’re wrong.

reo mikage is the worst fucking student.

not only does he seem uninterested in your explanations, completely disregarding all the equations you painstakingly lay out for him, but he also has the audacity to stare at you the entire time.

with that shit-eating grin that never leaves his face.

sure, he's cute, but right now, he's nothing more than a damn thorn in your side.

“is there something on my face that bothers you this much, or do you simply have the attention span of a goldfish?” you said, frustration evident in your tone.

“you're just a bad teacher, i think,” he quips, smugness dripping from his words.

“and you're the worst student, i'm sure,” you fire back, refusing to let him have the upper hand.

“well, how about you give me an incentive?” reo suddenly exclaims, his excitement evident in his sparkling purple eyes.

“and now you're asking for more as if you're not already taking up too much of my time?” you reply sarcastically, but your words carry no venom.

“come on! if i get a high mark on the next exam, you'll give me your number!” he eagerly proposes, his enthusiasm contagious.

do all rich kids have the tendency to want mundane things? 

“what are you going to do with my number?”

“networking! it's a thing in my world. expanding social circles and all that,” he explains, trying his best to come up with excuses that sound remotely plausible.

reo, well aware of the fact that he can only fabricate bullshit excuses in your presence, hopes he's not being too obvious. unfortunately for him, you see right through it, but it doesn't bother you all that much.

“better show me that A+ then,” you challenge, your expectations clear.

oh, it’s on. he’s going to ace that exam, one way or another. not that it’s actually hard.

mikage: hello y/n! mikage: do you have some notes from the discussion from yesterday? mikage: hello?

so much for networking.

mikage: and they finally read my messages! the crowd cheers!

what led to this moment is, once again, reo mikage standing in front of you, grinning from ear to ear, eagerly holding out an exam paper marked with what seems to be the biggest A+ you've ever seen.

that was three days ago, and sure enough, he got the incentive he asked for. and in those days, you damn sure experienced the ‘networking’ he speaks of with how often he texts you.

you: yeah, let me just take pictures of it to send you. mikage: NO you: ??? are you yelling at me mikage: i mean no, don’t take pictures of it. i’m a visual learner. i have to see your notes in person.

is he fucking serious right now?

you: and what do you suggest we do about that? it’s saturday, we won’t see each other until monday, genius. mikage: how about i’ll come to your house? you: how about you try asking nagi for notes instead?

after sending your last message, you put your phone down despite it continuously buzzing, signaling reo's discontent with your suggestion. you did a commendable job of ignoring him until he grew tired of sending unread messages and decided to call you instead.

“what?” you answered, picking up his persistent call.

“the probability of nagi having notes is lower than the probability of cows flying ten years from now!” he exclaimed, and begrudgingly, you admit he sure does have a point in that.

sighing into the phone, you reply, “you can't come here, it's a bit busy.”

“we'll meet up then! i can pick you up?” reo suggests eagerly. the ‘q’ in reo mikage sure does stand for ‘quitter’. 

“do you text and call everyone in your networking circle this much?” you ask, slightly amused.

“what do you mean? we're friends!” he protests.

“did i miss a few pages, young master, or did you get hit in the head with a soccer ball and become a bit delusional?” you tease, unable to resist.

“how about you stop being mean to me?” you could almost hear the pout and the mock hurt in his voice.

you can't, not when you get cute reactions from him in return.

you can't help but find his cute reactions entertaining, and you smile at the phone, even though he can't see it.

“i'll think about it,” you concede.

“okay, you have enough time to think about it while i'm on my way to you! bye, see you in a bit,” he says cheerfully before hanging up.

looking at the phone, you wonder when exactly you agreed to this.

stupid reo and his stupid persistence.

reo is once again in front of you, a scene that has become quite familiar over the course of your friendship.

however, this time you find yourselves in a cozy cafe near your house instead of on the school premises. he’s sitting in front of you, skimming through your notes, probably visually learning, while you sip on the drink he insisted on ordering for you. you gave in, because reo is not a quitter of any sorts. fighting him on the bill is futile and definitely a waste of effort. 

“i’ll pay you back,” you state firmly.

“i asked you here, so i should pay,” reo insists.

“i’ll feel bad.”

“if that’s the case, i guess you can treat me next time?” he suggests with a playful smile.

“you practically dragged me here, and you're already talking about a ‘next time’? you're not being slick, reo mikage,” you retort, not letting him get away with his charm.

“a man could try…” he whispers, hiding his face behind your notes, although you can see his neck turning red.

shaking your head, you shift your attention to the busy street outside the cafe. however, your ears catch the faint hum of a familiar song coming from reo. you know that song — it has been stuck in your head since a famous girl group released their album.

unable to contain your amusement, you chuckle, causing reo to look at you with curious eyes.

still smiling brightly, you remark, “didn’t know you're a fan too,” and laugh once more.

reo, on the other hand, feels starstruck.

he made you laugh for the first time, and was it the prettiest sound he ever heard? it sure is. it feels as if his heart beats in harmony with the rhythm of your laughter. it takes his breath away and brings him back to the present, all at once. it's intoxicating in the best possible way.

once he gets home, he's going to memorize the discography of this girl group. nothing will stop him. he will hum every single one of their songs in your presence.

reo would do that and even more if it means hearing you laugh again. this shouldn't be the last time he gets to experience it.

you had fun with reo last saturday. 

but right now? you sure don’t.

he’s avoiding you, like a fucking plague. and much to your chagrin, you miss having him around, despite his annoying antics. all with his stupid excuses and stupid grins.

he’s physically avoiding you, but you've noticed him stealing glances at you multiple times during this boring history class, his guilty expression not going unnoticed. it's time to put an end to this charade once and for all.

as soon as the bell rings, you quickly stand up and make your way towards reo before he can leave the classroom. looking around to ensure you're alone, you confront him.

“what’s wrong with you?” you demand.

“what do you mean?” reo feigns innocence.

“you’re avoiding me. you did something, didn’t you? did you spill something on the notes i lent you and you can't bring yourself to tell me?” you accuse, trying to get to the bottom of his strange behavior.

reo wishes it was just that. but it wasn't. it was much worse, to the point that even seishiro nagi called him out on it. and seishiro nagi? a man who couldn't care less about anyone because it's a hassle, calling someone out? you know you messed up if he does.

and reo believes he did.

“you're smiling at your phone too much, ‘s creeping me out,” nagi remarked, looming over reo’s phone.

reo shrugged, trying to hide his excitement. “stop being a hater, nagi.”

curiosity piqued, nagi caught a glimpse of your contact number on the screen. “oh? you finally made a move? about time.”

“i didn’t... they're tutoring me,” reo replied, a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

nagi raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “huh? for?”

“uh, i failed a math exam.”

“you?” nagi chuckled, finding the situation rather amusing. 

“okay, fine, the test paper wasn't mine or anyone’s.”

“normally, i won't give a damn, but tell me about it,” nagi said, genuinely interested.

it was an understatement to say that nagi was borderline amused after hearing reo's story, so amused that he had to unintentionally slap reo with the truth.

“basically, you tricked them. should’ve just said that.”

it's safe to assume that nagi's words had struck their way into reo's mind all throughout that day until now.

once again, and perhaps for the last time, reo stood in front of you. but this time, there was no smile on his lips nor a glint in his big purple eyes. he took a deep breath, gathering the courage to confess.

“no, i didn't spill anything on your notes. but i did something to you,” reo admitted, his voice trailing off. seeing your raised eyebrow, he continued, “i tricked you.”

“what?”

"i didn't fail any exam. i didn't need tutoring. no teacher told me to approach anyone. the test paper i showed you wasn't mine. i wasted your time, and i..." reo's voice faltered, barely above a whisper, “... tricked you, because i didn't know how to approach you after having liked you since first year.”

reo panned his eyes to the floor, unable to meet your gaze while his heart sank.

he hasn’t even started yet it's done. he should've come clean. he should've just told you he liked you since freshman year. he should've just asked for your number like a proper man. but he was so fucking shy, unbearable to think of being rejected by you. he could only think of coaxing you to talk to him.

and now his own foolishness was paying the price.

it's over. you and him are done for. he's not going to hear your laughter anymore. he won't ever receive a sarcastic retort again. all those moments of bliss, gone —

“i kinda know.”

what?

reo's eyes widened, and he lifted his gaze to meet yours. how?

“did you forget that the teacher congratulated the class for having good results on the exam you showed me? no one got a score below B+, reo. so imagine my surprise when you came, interrupting my lunch, showing me a paper with an f mark claiming you flunked it.”

god damn it, reo mikage.

it's either you're joking or reo just made the most foolish mistake known to mankind. and none of the former is evident in your face. 

he should really pay attention in class, not on your side profile from where he sits across you. 

a grave grave mistake. can the ground swallow him whole? or can someone shoot him —

no, actually, wait a damn minute.

it was as if all the clogs in reo's brain got a huge power-up as he realized something so spectacular.

“then why did you not say anything?”

you... from the start, could've just refused him. if you knew the entire time. so why did you agree to tutor him in the first place? 

perhaps…? no, reo didn't want to get his hopes up.

he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his nervousness evident in his fidgeting. it was as if he had been caught in a whirlwind of emotions, trying to make sense of it all. the weight of anticipation hung in the air as he waited for your response, his heart pounding in his chest.

and then, you smiled.

you and your stupidly bright smile that feels like a ray of light on a freezing cold skin that reo is having right now.

he really did not want to get his hopes up, but how in the hell would he do that when you just smiled at his question?

“what does that smile mean?”

“well, it means that maybe you're not the only scheming lovesick fool here, pretty boy.”

oh.

oh.

you knew it all along that he was scheming his way into your heart.

you knew the entire time.

and you let him.

what the fuck. reo was having a heartburn, literally, figuratively, and madly so. all because of you. 

reo snapped out of his thoughts when you waved a hand in his face, vying for his attention. you spoke, “is this everything you’re guilty about? i thought it was something grave. if you told me you spilled something on my notes, i would have started swinging at you, actually.” your laughter filled the room, lightening the tension.

the second time reo made you laugh was because of a scheme that he expected would end whatever beautiful thing you had between you two. not that he’s complaining.

“so you like me back?” reo finally gathered the courage to ask, his voice tinged with hope.

“if we get some food right now, i might answer that coherently. scheming or not, you really do have the habit of interrupting my lunch,” you playfully replied.

“i’d buy you the whole cafeteria if you answer me right now,” reo declared, a touch of desperation in his voice.

the ‘o’ in reo mikage sure stands for ‘overspending’, you’re convinced.

giving in to his request, you took three steps closer to him, barely a foot distance between you. softly, you declared, “yes, reo mikage, i like you too. but i must say, you, making me starve right now, is reducing your chances of being my actual boyfriend.”

“let’s get you some food.” reo said, holding your hand and leading you out of the room like he was on a mission. amused by his sudden swift pace, you let out a laugh.

and suddenly, all tension left reo’s body. his heart once again beat at a normal rhythm. that’s the third time reo made you laugh. surely, it’s one of many more to come.

a minute after walking side by side, you broke the serene silence surrounding you. “not gonna lie, the networking excuse is kind of funny.”

“but it worked. a win is a win,” reo smugly said, showing you your intertwined hands. “see? a win.”

you shook your head at his remarks. your stupid reo and his stupid scheme.

note. hello lovely ppl ! thanks for keeping up w me this far and for following me! as a thanks, here’s a reo fic since i’m missing him so much and emma has been feeding me ideas abt him <3 this is actually the longest i’ve written (i’m so normal abt reo i swear), hope you like it! (btw it goes without saying that this fic, is in fact, another TS inspired hehe love lots!)

𓆩♡𓆪 for one of the best people i met here, @saetorinrin

#☁️ my ode to you #pls take it easy on me #this is my first time writing so much dialogue #than usual #i love reo #i'll give it my best 4 him #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo #mikage reo fluff #mikage reo x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage

[mynameismckenziemae]

Underestimated

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x You/Reader/OFC

Summary: Being mistreated isn’t uncommon for a woman working in a male-dominated field, but Bob isn’t going to let it slide when he witnesses it happen to you.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, military/mechanical inaccuracies (I’m assuming), misogyny, etc.

——————————————————————————

For as long as you can remember, people (men) have underestimated you. Starting with your older brothers thinking you were an easy target, though they quickly learned that wasn’t the case. Next, your math teacher overlooked your intelligence because you were female. Your guidance counselor tried to persuade you away from the Navy after graduation because you weren’t tough enough for the military. The RDC laughed in your face the first day of boot camp, saying someone of your stature would never make it through; it sure felt good to see the smile fall from his face when you received ‘Outstanding’ marks in your physical readiness test.

But just because you were used to being underestimated; doesn’t mean it doesn’t get old.

It’s been two months since relocating to your hometown to be the lead aviation structural mechanic of North Island and none of the men you oversee have warmed up to you. The look of disappointment on your crew’s faces when you were introduced was obvious; your name was gender-neutral so they were counting on a male. You hadn’t expected them to befriend you, but you did expect respect; which was definitely lacking.

“A little help over here,” you call out, struggling to not lose your grip on the intake part you were trying to replace.

“Hello? Can someone help me?” You ask again a few minutes later, muscles trembling as it slides further off your shoulder. Not only would it hurt like a bitch if it lands on you, but it’s also not a cheap part if it bends or breaks.

“Equal pay for equal work, sweetheart. You can’t do the work yourself, you shouldn’t be here,” Jackson, the smug asshole, replies while the others chuckle in agreement.

“Fuck,” you grit out, trying not to panic as it begins to fall. But strong hands are helping you guide it into place. The same hands that have been on your mind since he dwarfed yours when he shook it on your first day.

Your attraction to the rest of him has only grown in the time since, along with your feelings; you adore his sweet, quiet demeanor. Natasha keeps telling you he feels the same way about you, but you haven’t built up the nerve yet to make a move.

“I’ll hold it here while you attach it,” Bob says softly near your ear. Your heart races as you do so, getting close enough that you can smell his signature leather and clean laundry scent.

Bob’s brows furrow as he watches your arms shake from the exertion. “How long were you holding this up?”

“About 5 minutes,” you reply, catching him shaking his head from the corner of your eye.

You’re done a moment later, sighing in relief when you put your arms down.

“Thanks,” you say as you set down your screwdriver and wipe your hands. You can’t help but notice how good he looks in his flight suit.

“No problem. Why didn’t you ask for help?” He asks as he wipes off his own.

“I did,” you sigh. “The boys here uh…aren’t too fond of me being their supervisor.”

“Why not?” He asks, perplexed.

“Because I’m a woman,” you reply with a shrug. “They don’t think I’m right for the job because I ask for help with lifting sometimes. Among other thing so I’m sure.”

His expression quickly turns angry.

“What’s up, Floyd?” Jackson says, smacking Bob on the shoulder. “If you need something worked on, you’re better off coming to me.”

“Why’s that?” Bob asks, shrugging his hand off and turning around.

“Come on, you know a woman’s place is in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant,” Jackson jokes.

But you’re not laughing. Neither is Bob.

“A woman’s place is wherever the hell she wants it to be, Jackson. I know you’re an idiot but I can’t believe you’re dumb enough to say something like that in front of me, but also your female commanding officer. I haven’t been impressed with the way you,” he stops and looks at the rest of the guys that have gathered around, “any of you have been treating her since she started but refusing to help her is going against direct orders. Not only could she have been injured, but the part she was holding costs more than a year’s salary for you.”

He steps closer to Jackson as he continues. “I’ll leave it up to her if she wants to report it, but if I ever see you disrespect her again, you’ll have to deal with me.”

You’re suddenly feeling hot and flustered as the crush you’ve been harboring intensifies as sweet, shy Bob defends your honor.

Jackson visibly gulps, nodding before he looks at you.

“Go home for the day,” you say with a glance at the clock before you begin to clean up your bay. “All of you are dismissed.”

“Look, I’m sorry-“ Jackson starts but you cut him off.

“Save it, Jackson,” you sigh. “I’m not going to report you, but I will if it happens again.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies before scurrying away.

Bob follows you as you wash your hands in the sink, scrubbing the grease off. “Sorry, if I overstepped. I know you’re more than capable of standing up for yourself. I just can’t-“ he starts but you interrupt him as you dry your hands.

“You didn’t overstep. I appreciate it,” you assure him as you look over his shoulder to make sure everyone’s gone.

You take a step closer, bringing a hand up to play with the zipper of his flight suit.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you pull him to you for a kiss.

He freezes as your lips touch his, but only for a moment before he kisses you back; the tension that’s been building snapping in an instant.

“I’ve wanted this since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he breathes as you kiss down his neck, groaning as you nip his collarbone.

“Me too,” you murmur against his neck before pulling back to take his hand. “Come on.”

You lead him to the parts room, unlocking the door and pushing him against it once closed, gasping into the kiss when you feel his thick erection pressing against your stomach.

He groans when your hand finds him next, palming him through his flight suit. You shiver before pulling down the zipper, wanting more of those delicious sounds.

“What are-oh God,” he sighs when you fall to your knees, flicking your tongue over the wet spot on his boxerbriefs to taste the precum.

“Wanna taste you,” you say, hands pausing by the waistband of his briefs. “Can I?”

You continue when he nods, gulping when his size is revealed to you. “So big,” you murmur, meeting his eyes as you lean forward to lick the precum beading.

“Fuck,” he whispers before his head falls back against the door with a thump and his hands fist at his sides when you suck him into your mouth.

You bring a hand up to stroke what can’t fit in your mouth and unzip your own coveralls with the other, slipping inside and between your legs to give yourself some relief. Your eyes fall close with a moan as you circle your clit.

“Oh-oh my God,” he gasps when you moan, his eyes zeroing in on what your hand is doing. “Are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes open and take in his wrecked expression before you hum around him.

“Ah…w-wait,” he pants, guiding you off him and to your feet. “I almost-I don’t wanna cum yet.”

You smile as he spins you, pressing you to the door. You shiver as he leaves wet kisses down your neck and whimper when he sucks your nipple through the thin material of your sports bra.

“Next time,” you promise, stopping him as he starts to kneel. “Right now I want you inside me.”

He inhales sharply at your words and nods as he reaches for his wallet, pulling out a condom.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a giggle as he puts it under the light while you slip your coveralls off.

“Making sure it’s not expired,” he replies with a chuckle. “It’s been in my wallet for a few years. It’s good for a few more months yet.”

“Good,” you reply, watching as he rolls it on.

You wrap your legs around his waist when he lifts you and lines himself up to your entrance.

Your mouth finds his as he pushes inside you, and you whimper at the sweet stretch.

“You feel like heaven” he whispers before trailing kisses to your shoulder as you adjust, withdrawing to push back in when you’re ready.

Now it’s your head that thunks against the door as he fucks into you at a steady pace, grunting softly into your neck with each deep thrust.

He pulls back to watch you through lust-heavy eyes as he wets his ring and pointer fingertips before sliding them between you to circle your clit. “Feel good?” He asks, voice husky.

“So good,” you moan, clenching around him as your release starts to build.

“Good,” he nods, “I want you to cum for me, can you do that?”

“Y-yes! Fuck, I’m close,” you whine, your hands scrambling to find purchase on his shoulders as your orgasm rapidly approaches.

He leans in for another kiss and the change of the angle is all it takes for you to fall over the edge with a throaty moan.

Bob’s hips stutter and he fills the condom with a deep groan when you clench rhythmically around him.

He sets you down gently once you’ve caught your breath, making sure you’re steady on your feet before removing the condom. You pull your underwear back on while he zips up his suit.

“What are you doing tonight?” He asks as he kneels, helping you step back into your uniform.

“I have a date with a load of laundry,” you joke. “Why, what’s up?”

“Think it’d be upset if you rescheduled?” He asks, leaning forward to press a kiss just above your bare knee, then halfway up your thigh as he pulls up the fabric. “You said I could do this,” he places a wet kiss to your clit through your underwear before continuing to rise, “next time. So I was thinking I could pick up takeout and we could have ‘next time’ tonight?”

“I like the way you think,” you reply with a smile, leading the way out of the hangar.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you @lexixstewart for the idea (again!) You have such good ideas! I hope you like it!

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!

Sorry if you’re not a Bob girly, but I’ll add my taglist here:

@mamamaystbr

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

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[teaboot]

I'm Singaporean, I just saw the posts about schools in Canada vs Korea and now I'm kinda curious how things vary within this half of Asia.

Looking at your questions for the Korean asker, dyeing your hair isn't allowed but how strict the teachers will be about it probably depends on school. My secondary school (age 13-16) had one teacher who made a classmate with (presumably naturally) lighter brown hair dye it black, which was hilarious. If necessary for explanation, it was a Christian school with pretty strict rules on grooming no one had the energy to follow leading up to graduation.

We have uniforms up until you finish secondary school, then it depends on where you go. You have to buy them yourself unless you're on financial assistance or getting some kind of government subsidy, in which case I'm not sure how it works exactly.

And now the actual asking part of this ask: do y'all split math up into different subjects and if so, why??

Kids had to dye their hair to match as a group? What the fuck???? What the hell does hair matter???? Then again... bra straps and shorts don't matter either, and those are restricted everywhere, so maybe school is just dumb everywhere.

And math!!! Not super sure what you mean, but until about grade 10 here in BC all math is taught in one math class that's just "math". In grade 10 you can take precalculus or... the other one? And the idea is that Precalculus is for students going into university and the other one was for students going into trades. You NEEDED precalculus to go on to higher learning, is what we were told.

"Math" was just all math. Multiplication, geometry, algebra, etc.

"Precalculus" was all the basic skills meant to prep for calculus used in STEM stuff- polynomials, trigonometry, more algebra, that junk.

I failed it hard two times but passed the government exam so they weren't allowed to fail me again.

Also I'm good at math so they can kiss my ass now 👍

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 3: Hermes, God Of Thieves]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 4.5k

Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji @sunnysideaeggs

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

They say it’s the most dangerous job in Vietnam. That’s why I wanted to do it.

Chinooks transport men and equipment, Cobras are gunships, Jolly Green Giants are used in search-and-rescue missions. But the Loach—Light Observation Helicopter—is a scout. We have to fly low enough to spot fresh footprints in mud, glints of sunlit metal, blooms of firelight from smoldering cigarettes in the primordial maze of the jungle. And when you go looking for the enemy, sometimes that’s exactly who you find. U.S. Army regulations decree that each Loach must be inspected after 300 hours of flight time, but they rarely make it that long. I’ve been shot down twice already. You roll out of the wreckage, grab your buddies, and book it out of the area before the Vietcong kill you, or worse: drag you back to the Hanoi Hilton so you can die slow.

Currently we’re just north of Pleiku, coasting close enough to the treetops that I could reach out and touch them. I’m in the back seat with my M16, no door between me and the outside world, my hair tied back with a green bandana, the wind hot and sticky. It’s so fucking humid here. Why can’t the communists be trying to take over Malta or Sweden or Monterey Bay, California?

It was the old men who suggested I might be of greatest service to the family by enlisting. I was 25, newly graduated from Columbia Law—a family tradition—and dreading the desk job that awaited me at the Department of Justice. Some people are born to type their lives away in some leather-upholstered office with a view of Pennsylvania Avenue, but not me, and I know this like I know the sun or the stars, ancient truths that can never be changed. And so when Otto and Viserys sat me down—my father had only had one stroke by that point, and was still relatively involved in the day-to-day minutia of putting a Targaryen in the White House—and said Aemond having a brother in Vietnam would make him more relatable, more sympathetic, more noble, not an observer to the carnage of the war but a fellow victim of it…I told them I’d go.

Everyone needs a project. If you don’t have something to distract you from the futility of human existence, it’ll break you in half. I have the Loach. Otto and Viserys, both immigrants ineligible to serve as president of the United States, have their shared ambition of getting their bloodlines in the Oval Office. Aemond has his legacy. My mother has her children, and Criston has my mother. Helaena has her gardens, her bugs, quiet gentle things that she tends with her own thorn-pricked hands. Aegon doesn’t have a project, he never really has, and it’s driven him to the cliff’s edge of insanity. See what I mean?

Anyway, let me tell you something about Vietnam. The Army gives us all the steak, beer, and cigarettes we can handle, but I’d kill for a lemon-lime Mr. Misty—

“Daeron, get down!” the guy to my left screams over the noise of the rotors. His name is Richie Swindell, and he’s from Omaha, Nebraska, and now he’s plummeting out of the helicopter as bullets riddle his chest. I duck low and cover my head as we spiral sideways into the trees, snapping branches, shredding leaves like confetti. I can hear the pilot yelling something, but I can’t tell what. When we hit the earth, the lightweight aluminum skin of the Loach does exactly what it’s supposed to, crumpling to absorb the shock of the collision and reduce trauma to us mortals inside. I scramble out of the rubble on my hands and knees and go to check on the pilot, but it’s too late. He’s already being hauled out by the Vietcong and gets a bullet to the brain. I reach back into the ruins of the Loach to grab my M16, but there are hands around my ankles yanking me out. And now I’m next, and there’s nowhere left to run, and I’m hoping Criston will be there to hold my mother when she gets the Western Union telegram.

One of the soldiers shouts and stops the others, shoving them aside to get a better look at me. With the barrel of his AK-47, supplied by either China or the Russians, he prods at the patch displaying my last name: Targaryen. His compatriots don’t seem impressed. Again, he batters my nametag, speaking to them in Vietnamese.

He knows who I am, I realize. He knows Aemond is running for president.

Now there is a hell of a lot of excitement. The men are talking rapidly amongst themselves, marveling at me, poking and examining me. Then two of them grab me by the arms. I look to the soldier who knows English, at least enough of it to read those nine fated letters. He smiles at me, not like a friend. Like a wolf baring its teeth.

He says: “It is okay, Targaryen boy. We just have some questions for you.”

Guess I’ll be checking into the Hanoi Hilton after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to Aegon strumming an acoustic guitar and singing Johnny Cash. The guitar must be new. The one he left at Asteria is plain maple wood and covered in stickers; this unfamiliar instrument is a vivid, Caribbean blue and has Gibson written across the headstock.

“I hear the train a-comin’, it’s rolling ‘round the bend

And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when

I’m stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin’ on…”

“Let me die. I’m ready to go.”

Aegon laughs, setting his new guitar aside.

“Is Ari okay?”

“Yeah, he’s doing great. And I got the stuff you asked for.”

Sure enough, there are three roomy sundresses hanging from the coatrack—you wanted to have options in case you had trouble finding one that fit correctly, though you gave Aegon a general neighborhood for sizes—as well as an array of cosmetics on the nightstand, including a bottle of shimmering champagne-colored nail polish. “I’m really impressed. You barely forgot anything. Though I will look odd with blush but no foundation.”

“Ohhhhh. Fuck.”

“And this isn’t human shampoo. It’s for dogs. That’s why it has a mastiff on the label.”

“I thought it looked like you,” Aegon says, smirking mischievously.

“Well, thanks for trying.”

“And I found this at the gift shop.” He tosses a card at you like a frisbee. You open the envelope to see a cartoon cow on the front, black and white and wearing a huge copper bell and a party hat. Inside is printed: May your graduation be legenDAIRY! Aegon has crossed it out and written instead I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf! followed by his illegible scribble of a signature.

“A cow,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “Because I’m Io.”

“You’ve got about a million of those pouring in from all over the country. Congratulations cards, get well soon cards, we really hope your husband gets elected so we aren’t consumed by nuclear Armageddon cards. And then Richard Nixon sent a pipe bomb.”

You set Aegon’s card on your nightstand, half-open so it will stay standing upright. Then you drink the apple juice from the tray the nurses left for you. “Aemond’s not here yet?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” Aegon says vaguely, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. He’s been shopping for himself too. He’s wearing a denim jacket over a black The Kinks t-shirt, ripped jeans, moccasins. He uses the remote to turn on the television: The Dating Game. “So, what did you study in college? You went to Manhattanville, right?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You really don’t listen when I talk, do you?”

“I try not to.”

“Yes, I went to Manhattanville. And I studied math.”

“No way. You didn’t major in math.”

“Women can’t do math?” you tease. “That’s sexist.”

“I didn’t say women can’t do math. I’m saying there’s no way your parents sent you to a housewife factory like Manhattanville College of the Sacred Heart to get a math degree.”

“They didn’t, which is why my bachelor’s is in math education. So half-math, half-kid stuff. Makes it a little more…domestic.”

“Cool. Teach me math.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He digs around in the pockets of his jeans until he finds a receipt, then locates a pen in the nightstand drawer. He hands both to you and then stands so he can watch over your shoulder as you work. You can smell him: cigarette smoke, rum, the cool grey rain that is falling outside. It drips off his hair, carelessly slicked back from his face.

“What’s something you don’t know how to do?” you ask, expecting to get an answer like exponents or calculating the volume of a pyramid.

“Uh. Long division.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Going all the way back to 4th grade. Alright then.” You begin writing. “So let’s take a large number—this year, 1968—and divide it by…hm…how many kids you have. So five.”

Aegon whistles. “Five kids. Goddamn.”

“Yes, and you probably couldn’t name them, but there are indeed five. Trust me, I’ve counted.”

“Okay, this is the part I don’t get. Five goes into 19 almost four times. But there’s no way to say almost four.”

“There certainly is not. Five goes into 19 three times, so we put a three up top and then subtract 15 from 19. We get four, drop down the six from 1968, and now we’re dividing 46 by five.”

“Nine.”

“Right. Five times nine is 45. So the nine goes up top and we subtract 45 from 46.”

“45 is basically 46. Let’s call it a day. Close enough.”

“No,” you insist. “We get one, then drop down the eight from 1968, which makes 18.”

“And five goes into 18 three times.”

“Where’s the three go?”

“Up top,” Aegon says, observing fixedly.

“And then we subtract…”

“15 from 18, which is three. So the answer is 393.3.”

“Wrong. Loser.”

“What! How am I wrong?!”

“You don’t just put the three after the decimal,” you say. “You drop down a zero—”

“A zero?! Where the fuck did a zero come from?”

“From the fact that 1968 is a whole number, so it’s actually 1968.0.”

“Oh.” Aegon blinks a few times. “Gotcha.”

“Add the zero after the three to get 30—”

“And 30 divided by five is six. So the answer is 393.6.”

“I am so proud. You are officially as smart as an average nine-year-old.”

He takes the receipt from you and studies it. “This was super enlightening.”

“You want to try calculus now?”

He cackles and sinks back into his plush salmon pink armchair, his miniature dominion in your hospital room kingdom. “You like teaching?”

“I love it,” you admit. “I had to do a semester of student teaching the spring before I graduated, and at first I was kind of petrified. But the kids are so hilarious and interesting and full of excitement about everything, and they’re sweet in totally unexpected ways. They’d chatter all through a lesson and make me want to jump out a five-story window, and then bring me some of their Easter candy. That’s when I realized they weren’t trying to torture me. They’re just kids.”

Aegon is meditative. “Yeah, kids are fun.”

“I wasn’t aware you had much interest in them.”

“No, I do.” And something about the way he says it makes you feel bad for taking the shot. He runs his fingers through his hair, perhaps debating how much he wants to share. “You know Viserys made us all do these little missions after college so we could learn about the real world, right?”

“Right.” Daeron spent his on lobster boats up in Maine, Helaena learned horticulture in France, Aemond helped register voters in Mississippi and Alabama. You can’t recall ever hearing about Aegon’s.

“I got sent to Yuma, Arizona to teach on the reservation there. When I stepped off the bus, I thought it was hell on earth. And then when my time was up I didn’t want to leave.”

“What did you teach?” And then you add: “Hopefully not math.”

“No, definitely not math,” he says, smiling but distant, remembering. “English. Books, poems, all that. But my favorite thing to do was take a song and break it down line by line, really get them curious about what the author was thinking. And then of course we’d all sing it together. I’d play guitar, they’d run around jumping on the furniture, it was a good time.”

“But you couldn’t stay.”

“No,” he sighs. “I had to come back here so I could get dragged kicking and screaming through law school and then married off.”

“And elected mayor of Trenton,” you say, trying to make him laugh. It works.

“Oh God, we are not talking about that. Most miserable two years of my life.”

“So far.”

“Yeah. If Aemond wins and makes me the attorney general, that might be worse.”

“Knock knock!” comes a cheerful trill from the doorway, and then Alicent and Mimi rush in. They descend upon your hospital bed, cooing and soothing, squeezing your hands and trying to smooth your untamed hair.

“What did it feel like?” Mimi is morbidly fascinated, swaying a little, eyes bleary with gin. “When they were digging around in there?”

“Well, obviously she was sedated, hon,” Aegon says, a bit impatiently. He and Mimi share a nod in greeting, no warmth, no depth. You wonder what it must be like for someone you spent so much time tangled up with to become a stranger.

“Oh, darling, I barely recognize you!” Alicent says. “You poor thing, you must be in such awful pain. I’ve never seen you like this before. Your face, your hair…”

Aegon gives her a quick, disapproving look and then lights a cigarette of the traditional variety. He puffs on it as he gazes at the window, like he’s counting the raindrops on the glass.

“I’m feeling a lot better now,” you assure Alicent.

Her eyes flick down to your belly, still swollen beneath your blankets. “Will it scar terribly, do you think?”

You shrug; you haven’t thought much about that part yet. “It’s a battle scar. Aemond gets them in the real world, I get them in here. Same war, different arenas.” You peek out into the hallway. “Is Aemond…is he with you…?”

“He wanted to be,” Alicent says, like it’s a consolation. “But, Washington, you know…the primary there is so close. So, so close. He kept saying that he and Humphrey were neck and neck, and they still are, I believe. Every vote counts, and he’s campaigning all over the Puget Sound.”

“He’s still in Washington?” Your voice is flat with disbelief, with disapproval.

“He wishes he could be here with you and the baby,” Alicent insists, stroking your hair. “I’m sure he’ll fly back as soon as he’s able. But he’s thinking of you so, so much. That’s why he let me and Mimi leave this morning.”

“Right,” you reply numbly. And then you remember what you’re supposed to say. “The election is important. It affects everyone, our son included. For the greater good, personal sacrifices are necessary.”

“We saw him,” Alicent tells you, radiant with joy. “Aristos Apollo.”

“So precious,” Mimi says. “But so small! And trapped in that hideous machine! We could only see him through those little round windows.”

Aegon casts her a violent glare. You are alarmed. “He’s not in an incubator?”

“They have him in a…what was it called, Mimi?” Alicent asks. Mimi has nothing useful to contribute. “A hyperbaric chamber, I think. To help him get more oxygen.”

“But he’s fine,” Aegon says firmly, giving his wife and mother a warning. “Didn’t the doctor say it was a precaution?”

“He did, he did,” Alicent promises you. “Yes, just a precaution, that’s what we were told. The doctor has been trying to reach Aemond, apparently, but since he landed in Washington, he’s never in one place for long…”

“We should buy gifts for the baby,” Mimi says excitedly. “Adorable hats and shirts and trousers. Although even the tiniest clothes might be too big for him right now.”

“Yes, gifts! We must shop for gifts. Oh, it’s all been such a whirlwind. We hurried off the plane to come straight here, love,” Alicent tells you. “Can Mimi and I get you something for dinner?”

“Sure, sure.” You are distracted, still thinking of Ari. “Anything is fine. Wherever you end up.”

“Would you like me to bring a priest to pray with you? Saint Nicholas Church is right around the corner.”

You smile. “That’s very kind, but I think I’d prefer some books.”

“Baby clothes, dinner, and books. We can do that. Can’t we, Mimi?”

“We absolutely can,” Mimi agrees with tipsy, girlish enthusiasm.

As an afterthought, Alicent says: “Aegon, have you been here all this time? You must be exhausted. We’re going to book a suite at the Plaza, there will be plenty of room for you too. We can drop you off there on our way to go shopping, if you’d like.”

“I’ll stay,” he says softly, watching the rain again.

Alicent’s brow furrows; her dark doe-like eyes are puzzled. “Alright, dear.” Then she and Mimi disappear into the hall.

“Is he really okay?” you ask Aegon when they’re gone.

“Yes. That’s exactly what the doctor told me, just a precaution. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Aegon,” you say, and don’t continue until he meets your eyes. “Why are you still here?”

He lights a fresh cigarette. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

“I’m not alone anymore. Alicent visits me, Mimi visits me.”

“Yeah, but you feel like you have to put on a show for them. Play the perfect Targaryen wife with all that stoic, dignified, unshakable faith. You hate me, so there isn’t as much pressure.”

“I don’t hate you, Aegon.”

“Yes you do. You always have. You don’t have to be polite about it.”

“Well…I have valid reasons to hate you.”

He smiles, exhaling smoke. “Right.”

“And you hate me too.”

Now he shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Everybody worships you, everybody thinks I’m a waste of chromosomes, is it really that hard to psychoanalyze?”

“No one worships me. They worship Aemond.”

“But you’re a package deal. Jack and Jackie, Franklin and Eleanor.”

You trace the lines in your palm with a fingertip, not knowing what to say. You’re so close to Aemond, so inseparable, and yet so vastly far. “Will you wheel me downstairs to see Ari after dinner?” It’s best to go at night when there are less staff around to try to stop you.

“Sure. You want a Mr. Misty?”

“Yeah. Lemon-lime.” That’s what he brought you last time, and it wasn’t bad for a cardboard cup of florescent green sugar water.

“Got it,” Aegon says, and leaves you alone.

You look at the phone on your nightstand. You’ve tried to call Aemond to no avail, though you spoke to Criston twice; on both occasions he said Aemond was in the middle of an interview. It’s understandable that you would have difficulty getting ahold of your husband while he’s off campaigning, leaping from town to town like an electric current. There’s nothing unusual about it at all. But Aemond could call you anytime he likes. You haven’t moved; he knows exactly where you are.

You keep staring at the phone. It doesn’t ring.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s night again, and you swim up from morphine-soft dreams into your hospital room, dark except for the flashing color of the television, low volume, NBC news. Aegon is curled up in the chair he’s claimed, snoring and half-covered with a cheap, pale blue hospital blanket. And it’s a strange feeling—a foreign language, a new religion—to realize that you’re relieved to see he’s still here, that there’s a comfort in it, a safety.

Suddenly, Aemond is on the television screen. You sit up in bed as gingerly as you can, leaning in, listening close. He’s rarely looked better: blue suit, prosthetic eye, rested and measured and sharp. He’s giving a speech at the Hotel Sorrento in Seattle, three hours behind the time you’re living in on the East Coast. Flanking him on the stage are Criston, Otto, Helaena, Fosco, the eight charming children. Five-year-old Cosmo keeps waving at the camera.

“Right now, my wife and newborn son are at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City,” Aemond says, beaming, and the audience whistles and cheers. You should smile, but you can’t. He’s not supposed to be there. He’s supposed to be on his way home. “But tonight I’m here with all of you, fighting with everything I’m made of to win the great state of Washington. And I won’t leave until the job is done, because I know the greatest act of devotion that any of us can show our children is to ensure they grow up in a better America than the one we find ourselves in today…”

You look over at Aegon and see that his glassy eyes are open, watching the television just like you are. You don’t know how long he’s been awake. The two of you exchange a glance, and there is a silent, shared recognition of what won’t be said. You can’t criticize your husband. Aegon isn’t going to kick you while you’re down. You are grateful for this. It is a conviction he has only recently acquired.

Aegon pulls his blanket up to his chin and rolls over, turning away from you. You close your eyes and dream of being a child back in Tarpon Springs, mesmerized as you watch Greek sponge divers emerge from the bubbling depths in their suits of rubber armor.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the afternoon of the 13th. The Washington State Democratic Convention is being held tonight, and so win or lose Aemond will be walking into Mount Sinai Hospital tomorrow. He has to, he doesn’t have a choice. He’ll have no excuse to be anywhere else, and journalists will be swarming at the entranceway like bull sharks in the Gulf of Mexico.

It’s raining again. You’re reading one of the books that Alicent brought you, Dr. Spock’s Baby and Child Care. You had been meaning to get a copy before you were consumed by Aemond’s campaign and then his near-assassination, his maiming, his fleeting brush with oblivion. Aegon is cross-legged in the salmon pink armchair and plucking lazily at his guitar, singing so low no one outside the room would be able to hear him. It’s a Rolling Stones song, slow and mournful.

“You don’t know what’s going on

You’ve been away for far too long

You can’t come back and think you are still mine.”

As you flip a page and raindrops patter gently against the window, you find yourself thinking how easy this is, your hair undone and your feet bare, no photos to take or lines to remember, no practiced smiles, no overwrought itineraries, only compassion that is quiet and small and real.

“Well, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time

I said, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time…”

Aegon abruptly stops playing, cutting off with a twang. You look up at him. He’s gazing back with eyes that are filling up his face, glistening with horror. You turn to find out what he’s seen. There’s a doctor standing in the doorway, but he’s not alone. There’s a Greek Orthodox priest with him.

“Mrs. Targaryen,” the doctor begins, then glances to the priest. The holy man—black robes, gold chains, clasping a komboskini like the one Aemond keeps in a box on his writing desk at Asteria, stained with his own blood—gives an encouraging nod. “We’ve tried to reach your husband. We’ve called his hotel in Tacoma several times, but the senator must be out campaigning, and…” Again, he looks to the priest. Aegon is setting his guitar on the floor, covering his mouth with his hands.

Ari. Too early, too fragile, too defenseless in a world full of wolves.

Your words come out in a whisper. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“We must remember, child,” the priest tells you, vague patronizing pity. “That the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, but what is lost to us in this life is never truly gone. Those we love wait for us on the other side in paradise—”

“Please leave. I don’t want to talk to a priest. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

I just gave birth to him. I just started to believe he was mine.

The doctor begins: “Ma’am, I’m so sorry to have to deliver this news—”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone, I want to be alone. So please leave,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I want to be alone. Please leave me alone.”

The doctor looks to Aegon. A man’s permission is sought. “Go,” Aegon manages, raspy and strangled, and the doctor obeys.

“God bless you and your husband, Mrs. Targaryen,” the priest says as he departs with a swift bow. You can’t reply. You’re biting back sobs as the tears begin to slither down your cheeks, scalding and furious, not just grief but the bottomless rage of Nemesis.

Aegon is watching you, not knowing what to do, not knowing what you need.

Aemond would want you to be stoic. Aemond would want you to have faith, forbearance, grace. “It is God’s will.”

“Hey.” Aegon reaches across the space between you, grabs your hand, holds it so tightly your bones ache. Still, you wouldn’t want him to let go. “You’re allowed to be fucked up about this. I am too.”

When your eyes drift to him, they are glaring and heartsick and poisonous. “Where’s Aemond?” Why isn’t he here?

Aegon sighs deeply and picks up the phone with his free hand. He spins the rotary dial with his index finger and then holds the handset to his ear. He waits as it rings. “Pantages Theater, Tacoma, Washington,” he tells the operator. A minute or more crawls by. “I need to speak to Senator Targaryen immediately. Yes, I know there’s a convention underway there, that’s why I’m calling you. Go get him.” More minutes, eternal, terrible beyond description. “What do you mean you can’t find him?!” Aegon snaps. “Okay, give me someone else. Anyone travelling with him. Criston Cole, Fosco Viviani, Otto Hightower, Helaena Targaryen. Hurry up. Let’s go.”

Outside the rain grows heavy and loud; it falls in sheets against the misty windows. In the distance, thunder growls.

“Hi, Criston, it’s me. He needs to come home now. Right now.”

Aegon closes his eyes. Criston must be arguing with him.

“No, you don’t understand,” Aegon says, forcing the words to leave his lips and ride the wires to the West Coast, to where the sun sets, to where the future is dawning. He’s still holding your hand. “Aemond doesn’t have a son anymore.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen x you

[thewayitalknj]

Friday, I'm In Love?

Eddie Munson x Female Reader.

When random corny love notes start appearing in your locker, you're wondering who the hell Is taking time out of their day to think of you.

Quick Notes - Happy Valentine's Day! I got this idea while playing our Valentine's Day Playlist at work and thought I would write something. Super short but to the point, lol. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count - 849 (Told you it was short) Warnings - None! Enjoy :)

Monday That's when the first note fell out of your locker. When the small piece of paper fell onto the floor you were confused. You had all your notes, what could this possibly be? You opened it up and read the message ; Let's commit the perfect crime. You steal my heart and I'll steal yours.

"The actual fuck?" You laugh.

"Whacha you got there?" Eddie snatches the note from your hand and reads it in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard, clearly used for DM'ing only. You close your locker and lean against it. "You have a secret admirer? That's adorable." You take the note back and stuff it in your bag.

"Beats me. Probably someone playing a stupid prank."

"Or someone's in love with you."

"I highly doubt that."

Tuesday ; They say true love hides behind every corner. I must be walking in circles.

"So, who do you think it's from?" Jonathan asks as you walk the track field for gym.

"No idea. I just find it odd. Why now? For fucking Valentine's Day?"

"Maybe they think it's the right time since it's a holiday about love."

"I still think it's a silly prank."

"Or someone is in love with you." He smiles.

"Well, I highly doubt it."

Wednesday ; Romance is the icing, but love is the cake.

"I like this one, it has to do with food." Robin snarks, holding all 3 notes in her hand.

"That's such a you comment to say."

"What are you guys talking about?" Nancy takes a seat next to you at the lunch table.

"Someone has been leaving me stupid notes with pick up lines in my locker everyday this week."

"And you don't know who it is yet?"

"Nope."

"You have't recognized the hand writing?"

"See, this is why you're the smart one." Robin states.

"I never even thought of that, let me take a look." You examine the writing on the notes. "Yeah I got nothing. Who knows, it could be very obvious and I don't even see it."

"Or, someone is in love with you."

"Again, I highly doubt it."

Thursday You fling your locker open and there fell a note. ; If I were a cat, I would spend all nine of my lives with you.

"Okay, that's it. I'm done with these. Thank god tomorrow is Friday."

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Eddie asks.

"Nope, I haven't. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, of course not. But speaking of stupid," He pulls out his math binder. "Here are the math notes you needed."

"Thanks, I'll get them back to you tomorrow. I can't believe you actually paid attention."

"Well if I want to graduate I gotta do some work, ya know?"

Later that night you're doing homework in your bedroom and started organizing your math notes. Using Eddie's notes from earlier you flip over the page to continue note taking when you notice some scribbles at the bottom, definitely not pertaining to math. Let's commit the perfect crime. You steal my heart and I'll steal yours. ; They say true love hides behind every corner. I must be walking in circles. ; If you were a fruit you would be a fine apple ; Romance is the icing, but love is the cake. you're a 9 out of 10 and i'm the 1 you need ; well i'm here so what are your other two wishes? if you were a cat, I would spend all nine of my lives with you ; if you let me borrow a kiss I promise I'll give it right back to you.

A lightbulb goes off and you immediately reach for the love notes in the front pouch of your backpack.

"Holy shit." You whisper.

Friday The morning bell rings as you slip a note into Eddie's locker. ; Roses are red, Violets are blue. I found out who you are, and you must admit it to me too. Meet me at the picnic table after school.

The afternoon bell rings as you take off towards the woods to meet Eddie.

You sat on the table impatiently waiting, bouncing your leg up and down until a familiar face appears before you.

"What's this?" He asks waving the note in his hand.

"It's you."

"What do you mean it's me?"

You wave the four notes in front of him this time. "Didn't get one this morning. I beat you too it."

"That's not me."

"Stop lying Eddie."

"But it's not. Can you prove it?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Your math notes." He looks at you confused, taking out his backpack and finding his notes. As you watch him flick through his eyes get wide.

"Holy shit." He whispers.

"Yeah I said the same thing."

"Look I'm sorry-"

"Why are you sorry? And why didn't you just say anything in the first place?"

"Because it wasn't suppose to end like this, and I didn't know how you would react. So I thought this would be a good way to ask you out. Maybe. Possibly."

You nod your head and look down to the ground.

"So?" He ponders.

"So what?" You look back up.

"Can I take you out on a date?"

You smile.

#Spotify #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson blurb #Valentine's Day

[jo-harrington]

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters

Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.

Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.

He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.

He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.

For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.

A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.

Except...

For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.

He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.

Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.

Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.

You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?

But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.

He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.

But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.

He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.

You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.

The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.

Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"

"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.

Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”

"Bye honey."

“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”

“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.

“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."

Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.

Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.

For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.

And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.

Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.

But it had been. A huge shock.

His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.

Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.

But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.

Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.

Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.

Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...

Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?

Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.

Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.

...actually...

"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.

"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."

"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.

"I use one every time I'm in here."

"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."

"So?"

"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"

Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.

"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.

Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.

Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.

For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...

If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?

But that was a dumb thought to have.

Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.

He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.

"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.

He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.

He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.

The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.

Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.

It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.

"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."

He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...

While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.

He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.

Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.

By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.

It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...

He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.

"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”

He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.

When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.

He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.

His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.

Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?

Eddie groaned and rolled over.

What the fuck was this place?

There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.

This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?

He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.

Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—

“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?

Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?

He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?

Ugh it was too early to think about that.

Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise…shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?

He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.

His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?

Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?

Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.

“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.

That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.

Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.

He opened his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.

“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.

Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.

Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.

He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.

He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.

So how did he end up here…wherever here was?

This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?

“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”

There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.

Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...

A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?

One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.

Bingo.

Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?

And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.

What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.

He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.

Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.

Only it wasn't...his reflection.

It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.

A wave, a turn, a funny face.

He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.

It was Eddie Munson's.

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson stranger things #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington stranger things #Eddie and steve #stranger things fic #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #Steve Harrington imagine

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 43

PREV

FF is a pretty good student. Solid Bs in his Gen-eds and As in regard to his major. With one C+ that he’s still working on with Captain Neil but it’s higher than the D+ that he had been pulling before Captain Neil had started to tutor him and he really just needs to pass the one gen-ed required math class.

There was many a deep breathing exercise before he made an appointment with his educational advisor for the next semester back in October but it hadn’t been that bad even though she was the one that had asked if he knew anyone good at math since it obviously was not a strong suit of his. So he dragged his grade up from a D+ to a C+ and he was pretty proud of that.

FF has a preferred spot in each and every one of his classrooms. In his Gen-Ed courses he sits in spots that the Professors don’t even notice and where there is almost always a gap between him and the next person. He arrives perfectly almost late every single day for every single class he can to achieve this feat.

For his Major classes he sits near the front with the few Foreign Language major friends that he has.

FF likes to be prepared. Studying was a nice way to prepare for the future. If he’s already read the entire textbook front to back and taken notes then a pop quiz can’t catch him off guard. He double, triple, and quadruple checks homework. He could probably recite the syllabus for any of his classes off the top of his head. He has read it so much to make sure he’s gotten everything and is on track.

FF kind of likes finals week.

For once, for one week, everyone is as anxious as him.

He sits next to Nicky patting his back as his friend sobs into a pillow. “I’m not going to graduate and it’s going to delay seeing Erik by an entire year!” Nicky yells as he brings his face out of the pillow.

“Nicky, you only got one flashcard wrong how about you shut the fuck up!” Aaron yells from his desk where he seems to have spontaneously developed ambidextrousness as he writes notes with both hands. “Fuck I am NEVER fitting all of this one one index card.” Aaron slams his face into the table.

“I don’t even need this degree.” Matt says looking down at a textbook that he has not turned a page on for the last hour. The fact that Matt had also not even opened that textbook before now was a bit of a cause for concern. “I’ve already got offers for professional teams. I can just play Exy. I do not need to pass a workplace psychology course.” Matt says.

“You think Dan wants an idiot?!” Nicky demands not wanting to go down alone.

“She thinks it’s cute that I’m stupid!” Matt exclaims.

“No she doesn’t!” Aaron points at him, “She said and I quote ‘I love it when you use that big ol sexy brain of yours.’ the last time you had her on speaker phone!” he uses a slightly more…effeminate voice when he impersonates Dan but FF had spoken with Dan and to his memory she did not sound like that.

“Fuck you’re right she deserves an all rounder!” Matt cries, head in his hands.

“Why do I even have to TAKE this Gen-Ed about history?” Nicky demands now holding onto FF as if he were a teddy bear.

“So that we’re well-rounded individuals with a wider perspective on-”

“Smithy, my sweet child, I was not looking for an answer.” he feels Nicky’s hand come up to his hair and maybe he’s being treated more like a favored pet?

“You’re having trouble with a Gen-Ed?!” Aaron asks turning around in his seat, “That’s embarrassing.” he turns his nose up.

“I’m having trouble with something that is going to be useless in my adult life.” Nicky says as if he were not currently an adult. “You are having issues with a class that will have huge ramifications on your future if you don’t manage to learn it!” Nicky points out.

“Eat my shorts Nicky.” Aaron hisses.

“Maybe I could study if you would wash your shorts Aaron. I can smell your laundry pile from over here!” Matt spits.

The fight devolved from there and FF slipped out of the dorm as Nicky was holding a chair over his head to seemingly throw at Matt for his ‘unreasonable number of sticky notes messing up the flow of Nicky’s studying’.

He heard a crash.

“It’s probably fine.” he says to himself and he has his index cards with the speech he has to give for and he really should go over to talk with Captain Neil.

He walks to Captain Neil, Andrew, and Kevin’s door and- “There faster-!”

FF walks away from Captain Neil, Andrew, and Kevin’s door, remembering only in this moment that Kevin had declared that he would be “Living in the library until this paper is done or I am.” to the team at the last practice of the year.

Captain Neil and Andrew were never the type to waste an empty dorm room.

He misses Pepto Bismol as he hears a particularly dirty line of Russian coming from his Captain’s dorm room.

***

Eventually Finals week is done and dusted with only 4-5 more blow-ups in his dorm room that result in Nicky, Aaron, and Matt stopping their fight to see if they accidentally had knocked him out with all of the thrown debris (only happened once when Aaron threw a textbook that Nicky ducked but he didn’t.)

FF came out of his final…final feeling pretty good all around. He had managed to get some extra tutoring time with Captain Neil after Kevin managed to finish his history paper a little early. Despite all of their fears and complaints Aaron, Nicky, and Matt all did manage to pass all of their finals and their classes.

The Tower was closing tomorrow for the rest of the year and despite checking almost every day with Nicky he still was invited to go to New York City with most of the team to stay at Allison’s house.

“Smithy, did you pack a swimsuit?” Nicky asks.

“Nicky, we’re going to New York for Christmas break. Do you think we’re going to swim?” Aaron asks incredulously.

“Two words, my fetus of a cousin: Hot. Tub.” Nicky holds his hand up and putting one finger up and then another. “Is hot tub two words?” Matt asks as he reaches for his own swim trunks.

“Yes Matt hot tub is two words.” FF says nodding.

“Thank you Smithster.” Matt says.

“I can’t believe you don’t know that hot tub is two words.” Aaron says with a huff.

“I can’t believe that you don’t know how to not be an asshole even after you started getting regular sex with Katelyn.” Matt returns, “Look at how not a thing that was when Smithster answered it.” he gestures to FF.

“You cannot compare Smithy to Aaron. Apples and Tomatoes.” Nicky dismisses.

“Whatever, so Allison got a hot tub at her place?” Aaron moves past the conversation.

“Aaron you just made fun of Matt for asking stupid questions.” Nicky says with a hand on his cheek.

“I fucking hate being part of your family.” Aaron says without any real heat.

“Yeah sure.” Nicky says, rolling his eyes and smiling as he saw Aaron packing swim trunks that FF knew he had bought for his cousin.

“Okay, I’ve got the packing list that Allison sent. Do we wanna run through it so that we’re all properly packed?” Matt says holding up his phone.

“Yeah, let’s run through it.” Nicky says with a sigh.

They went through Allison’s provided list twice and then zipped up their suitcases. Smith was going to be driving to the airport with Matt. Neil and Andrew were going to be driving the Maserati up alone while the rest of them were going to be flying up to New York City.

Now onto something that filled FF with far more dread than simply passing tests that determined whether or not he continued to get a free ride in college.

Meeting new people.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

#Fluent Freshman AU #Just as a note I'm probably going to be taking November off #I should be getting the keys to the Condo on Halloween #and there's just so much to do with it #So I'll be doing a smaller WW #and taking the month off for FF #But I'll come back with some fun I've been planning for ages #Specifically Smith getting to meet Renee and Allison for the first time #And really getting to know Dan #There may be a few special guests but I haven't decided yet #Andrew and Neil absolutely take an extra day to get up to New York for 'absolutely no reason' #but the reason was that they pulled off to a quiet pit stop and made out for so long that it was just irresponsible for them #to not go to a motel #As for where we left off with the Winter Banquet #It was just Smith waiting around until the bus came back #He just ignored that old dude looking for him #and walked to the bus without breaking stride #Who knows who said that Smith was there #I do #FF - 42 #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Andreil #Nicky Hemmick #Kevin Day #Aaron Minyard #Matt Boyd

[tinygarbage]

Lovers Rock (A Halloween Special)

pairing: Joel Miller x College!f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: Joel's been your best friend since 6th grade. He graduated with you, but when you went to school, he joined his fathers contracting company. When your roommate invites you to a frat party for Halloween, hoping to set you up with her boyfriends friend, you drag Joel along.

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, underage drinking, college parties, Joel is 20, reader is 18 (Joel was held back for kindergarten), frat boys, kissing, reader is a virgin, mutual pining, oblivious reader, not edited 😵‍💫

a/n: ok y’all, I’m not very happy with how this turned out, but I really like the idea I had so yk fuck it and ball. I just needed some mutual pining yk? I’m hoping to make multiple installments of this story but I’m not promising anything! Anyways enjoy even though there only a few hours left of Halloween:)

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

When Nessa proposed she wanted to set you up with her boyfriends frat mate, you didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that she was desperate to help you loose your virginity.

So, after a couple days of convincing, you give in. But not before calling your best friend to drag him along. You call Joel immediately after Nessa tells you about the party. He had been your best friend since 6th grade. You met him in math class and after pestering him for a piece of gum. When he finally gave in, you continued to pester him until you completely weaseled your way into his life. And since then, you had been inseparable.

You and Joel had watched each other go through countless crushes and relationships, but nothing stuck for either of you. Joel was a little more proactive, and had done a lot more than you had ever done. Including losing his virginity. But, you promised each other to keep each other in the loop. So here you are, last minute on the Wednesday before the party, waiting for him to pick up as the phone rings.

    "Jo, hey." You say quickly after he picks up.

    "What's up, Buttercup?" He says, panting slightly.

    "You good?"

   "Yeah, sorry, I'm just at the job sight." He says, trying to catch his breath.

    "Still? It's 7?" You frown, looking at the alarm on your desk.

    "Yeah, Dad's got us cleaning and shit." He sighs, "so what's up?"

    "Oh, yeah. Right." You laugh, "What are your plans Friday night?"

    "Tommy's got a football game, but I can get out of it if you wanted to do something." He answers.

     "There's a party. A Halloween party." You say, flipping a page of your textbook and start writing.

     "Oh, y'know I'm not really into that kinda shit." He says. You can picture the little scowl he unintentionally does.

      "Please? For me?" You whine.

      "Why do you want me to go so bad, college?" He chuckled. You can imagine him standing at the job sight. Breathing heavy in his work pants and neon orange t-shirt. He'd be panting slightly, beads of sweat running down his forehead, curls messy and hands dirty from a tough day at work. His biceps bulging in the t-shirt and his thighs tight against the fabric of his pants.

      "Nessa is trying to set me up with one of the football guys, I need my bodyguard just in case things get rocky." You says, the eraser of your pencil pressing against your lip as you read and talk,

      "Nessa? Your roommate?" He asks. Joel and Nessa don't get along.

      "Please, Jo." You drag out his nickname.

      "I don't wear costumes." He says flatly.

      "What if i buy you one?" You propose.

      "You're not spending money on me." He argues.

     "Wear dark clothes. I'll just get a mask or something." You suggest, "you don't even have to wear it, just hold it."

      He sighs from the other line, "Fine. I'll wear dark clothes. And I'll be at your dorm at 7:30."

      "Really?" You ask, smiling brightly as you look down at your desk with a smitten face.

       "Really, Princess." That's what he called you whenever you got you way. It always made you feel like you had a little butterfly flying around your rib cage.

      "Thank you. I love you." You giggle, going back to writing notes.

       "Love you too, College." He says, you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, I gotta go. I'll see you then?"

     "See you then, Jo."

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

The crowd is immediately overwhelming to Joel. As the group approaches the frat house, there a guy throwing up an the sidewalk. He's dressed as Luigi. His mustache lays crumbled at his feet while he groans. Joel automatically thinks of 3,001 excuses to get the hell out of there. But each excuse is thrown away after he thinks about you. What if something happens to you? So he stays. Stuffing part of the werewolf mask you bought into his back pocket. Reluctantly grabbing a beer from the huge cooler once you're inside and cracking it open. He watches as you and Nessa take out your own alcohol and soda can to make a mixed drink.

Earlier that night, he arrived at your dorm to see you all dolled up. A winged liner and a cherry red lipstick being the most notable out of your makeup look. For him at least. You were wearing a white, pirate styled shirt with a worn brown vest. In a material that made Joel cringe slightly. Your skirt was fluffy, and short, exposing your thighs in the cold air. You wore converse, just like he had. You were dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. Shoving a cheap werewolf mask into his hands, thanking him for wearing exactly what you had told him. Which was a navy crewneck and dark denim. He was your big bad wolf.

He sighs, standing beside them, feeling wildly out of place. You had brought him to the same frat before. After a Longhorns game. An invitation reached out by Nessa and her boyfriend who was in the frat. But before then, he was drinking and it was easier to make conversation about football, and not his shitty costume. He swallows his pride and watches you giggle with your bad influence of a roommate. Or so he believed her to be.

You turn to see him staring, throwing a crooked smile in his direction before taking a long sip of your drink. Which had mostly alcohol and a drop of Dr Pepper. "Can you hold my soda, Joel?" You ask, with your usual puppy eyes and fake pout.

He grumbles and grabs it from you, double fisting a Busch lite and your Dr Pepper. While holding your soda and following you around, all Joel could think about were his little brothers words. 'You're the boyfriend with absolutely no benefits.' And Joel couldn't deny it any longer. He helped move you into your dorm, he picks you up when you drink too much with Nessa, he holds you when your shitty boyfriends screw you over, and he holds your drinks at parties so you can flirt with other guys. And he gets nothing but a 'thanks Joel! You're the best!'

    It took him way too long to realize that he's the friend zone king. He sits on its shitty throne next to the guy who says 'Where's my hug?' His stomach churns. His throat burning hot and his head is spinning.

"Nessa said Kayden and Theo are on the lawn." You shout over the music into Joel's ear, the proximity making his heart jump.

"The hell are they doin' out there?" He asks back.

"Keg-stand, fucking idiots." You grumble and Joel laughs, agreeing. Which earns him a glare from Nessa. To which he sticks his tongue out back.

Nessa grabs onto you, leading you out towards the lawn. You immediately grab onto Joel's forearm and drag him with you two. He sighs, downing half of his beer as he walks with you to the lawn. A sea of drunk college students dressed in silly or slutty costumes litter the lawn. Nessa's boyfriend, Theo, is in the middle of a keg stand, and Kayden is cheering from the side with a jug full of alcohol. God, Joel wanted to lose his shit and bang on his chest in pure anger. You were nervous about that fucker?

You look to Joel with an uneasy smile, he doesn't return it. "How do I even communicate with him?" You ask Joel.

"You run away as fast as you can," he gives you an unimpressed look as he says it. He's not joking.

You give him an exaggerated eye roll and shake your head. "You told me you'd be good for advice, Miller."

"That's my best advice, Princess," he says easily, crossing his arms over his chest. His beer can lazily hanging in his fingertips. Which are lightly gripping the top.

You swallow, watching as Kayden chugs an impressive amount of whatever alcohol was mixed in the jug of what used to be Arizona tea. "I guess I should probably introduce myself."

Joel's jaw clenches as he watches you go, wanting to grab you and shake sense into you. What could you possibly see in that guy? What could possibly be romantic about a arizona jug with a unexplained green liquid sloshing around inside it? What could possibly be attractive about the piss-water beer he was spilling all over himself. With one tight squeeze, he crashes the can, wandering away to find a recycle bin.

He heads back inside reluctantly, chewing the inside of his cheek while his mind churns out a million scenarios where you turn out hurt. Or someone else's. A huff escapes his lips as he tosses the can into the recycle bin and immediately heads into the kitchen for another. In the kitchen, there's a group of other Mario characters. Joel clocks them as Luigi's group. He wonders if they know poor Luigi is puking his guts out.

Laughing to himself, he cracks open a second beer and leans against the counter, observing as people come and go from the kitchen. He sips slowly, judging people's costumes, laughter, and their drunken speeches. He wonders how people got drunk so fast, or if him and your group really arrived as late as Nessa made it seem. He sets his beer down next to him, still holding onto your Dr Pepper. His hand covering the open top. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a princess peach approaching. Her dress short, and white knee high boots. Her blonde hair was curled and she had a tiny crown on her head. She looked good.

"You're bleeding." She says, pointing to his empty hand. Looking down, he realized he must've cut himself while crushing his can in his earlier frustration.

He looks back up with a slow blink, "thanks." He grumbles, not really sure what to say, "you know if they keep a first aid kit in this dump?"

Peach laughs with a nod, moving past him and looking under the sink. She grabs out a small, red first aid kit. Joel sets down your Dr Pepper. He moves to the sink, washing off the blood from the small, deep cut. He rips a paper towel from his freehand and dabs the cut. Once he's finished, Peach put a paw patrol bandaid on the left side of his palm, where the cut is.

"All fixed, soldier." She says with a giggle.

"Thanks," he says, inspecting the bandaid made for children, "oh, and if you're missing a Luigi, he's out on the lawn. Buddy seems like he's had a rough night.

Peach let's out a loud giggle, Joel flinches at the sound. "Oh, that's just Damon. He's been drinking since noon."

"Since noon?"

"Yeah, it's normal i promise." She says, her hand falling onto his bicep as she laughs. She squeezes it lightly and his eyes widen slightly.

Joel shifts, not really sure how to handle a unwanted touch from a stranger. Her hand dropped as soon as it came. He let out a huff in relief, shifting his converse against the kitchen tile. "He should probably stop drinkin' so much." He said awkwardly.

      Peach shrugs, "it's college."

       At the tail end of their conversation, you slip into the kitchen. You're red hood is down now, and your solo cup is completely empty. Having been downed after you listens to Kayden tell you about football through a slurred voice. After realizing there was no chance of social resuscitation, you head inside to find Joel. Hopefully getting the hell out of there. You walk through the sliding glass door and through the dining room. When you reach the kitchen you stop in you tracks at the sight of Joel.

       As you stand there, a realization creeps up on you. You've seen this film. You've seen it a thousand times. Every time you've entered a room, you've watched it play. A perfect play through every single time. Joel stands against the kitchen counter with another beer in his hands. He's grumbling something to a girl dressed as Princess Peach. As she laughs at what he said, her delicate hand slaps his bicep, grabbing onto it as she leans forward and lets out a flirtatious giggle. You watch him blink slowly, realizing whatever he said to the girl wasn't a joke. He wasn't trying to be funny.

     Continuing to watch, you stand in the entrance. He stands up from where he was leaning on the counter, no longer relying on it to hold him up. You watch as he slams his second beer, your Dr Pepper still in his right hand. His hand is covering the top. Another few blinks and his whiskey eyes are on you.

     Everything from there feels like a total cliche. He turns away from Princess Peach, eyes still on you. He mutters a farewell. You watch him closely as he stares you down. He's crossing the room, eyes fixated on your form. The white pirate-styled top, and the brown vest. His eyes fall to the short red skirt and the beat up converse on your feet. The noise around you cancels out into merely a whisper, your heartbeat gets faster as you realize what's happening to you. No, what's happened. What's always been there. What is becoming so painfully obvious that you physically can't keep up with the way your brain spins.

    He's there and everyone else is just an obstacle. Blocking you from running to him. You wonder if that's how it's been this whole time. If your own stupidity and oblivious nature has been your obstacle this whole time. If this moment was destined since you had plopped a boat made out of the gum wrapper from the gum he gave you on his desk in 6th grade. You wonder if had he asked you to homecoming instead of Charlie Winkler, would you have already realized it. Would you have already realized that there's absolutely no one in this world that makes you feel the way he does?

     As he gets closer, fire spreads through your body, and suddenly he's grabbing your wrist. He says something, but you're locked into a shock induced state. You completely zone out as his face leans closer. Your eyes take in his thick, furrowed brow and the slight scrunch on his forehead. His lips are downturned and you suddenly realize how long it's been since he's shaved. His stubble much longer than he had ever kept it before.

      "Hey, you good?" His smooth drawl snaps you back into reality, he's waving a large hand in front of your face, "Earth to College."

      You blink a few times, "Joel. Hi." You choke out awkwardly, staring at him.

     "You good? Where's Kyle?"

     "Kayden." You correct, throwing out your solo cup. Then grabbing the Dr Pepper from his hands and throwing that out too.

     "Same thing," he shrugs, "Where is he?"

     "I wasn't into him." You say quickly, "Wanna get some air? I'm feeling a little overwhelmed."

    He immediately looks concerned, his hand landing on the small of your back, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

    You nod quickly, "I'm fine, i promise. C'mon, let's go upstairs."

     You grab his hand and lead him out to the living room and up the stairs of the frat. He follows behind, holding onto your hand tightly. He looks behind and around himself, not really knowing what to expect. Or what people would think about people heading into the bedroom of a frat member without said frat member being present.

    You reach a door with Theo's name on it. Carefully, you peak your head in. Once you know it's clear of horny and drunk college students, you open the door fully. Joel steps through, looking around at the slightly messy room.

    "You're sure we can be up here?" Joel says, awkwardly shifting his weight as you plop down on Theo's bed.

     "He said I could use it if i needed too." You smile, playing with the hem of your skirt.

    He just nods, converse dragging slightly on the rug under his feet and towards the bed. As he sits down slowly, you listen to the muffled music from the yard. A shitty, yet classic, Pitbull song plays and you hear drunken screams. You ignore it, not wanting to focus on anything else but the overbearing scent of Joel's teakwood cologne. The one you got him for his 20th birthday. How was he so perfect?

   "So, that kid didn't catch your interest?" Joel asks, his sweaty hands rubbing on the denim covering his thighs.

     "He smelled like wet pennies," you laugh, nudging his shoulder lightly.

    He laughs with you. It's thunderous sound, one you've always been incredibly fond of. You giggle slightly, a lovesick haze clouding your brain as he looks over to you. For a moment, it's quiet between you both. A complete contrast to the chaos outside. Both of your breathing the only sound left in the room. His eyes flicking from your eyes to your cherry red lips. He snaps out of his daze, looking forwards, "I think if someone told me I smelled like pennies, I'd cry." He says teasingly, nudging your knee.

    "You don't smell like pennies." You lean closer.

    "Promise?"

    "Promise." You nod, giggling as you lean your head on his shoulder.

      His arm wraps around you, rubbing your shoulder over your smooth red cape. The hood tangled in the back from ripping it off your head after Kayden accidentally spilled his unidentified alcohol beverage on it earlier. You nuzzle your head on his muscular shoulder, inhaling his strong scent. His navy crewneck is soft against your cheek as you look down at the dark denim on his strong thighs.

      You both sit in silence for a few moment, the tension in the air getting thicker as the seconds tick by. Eventually, you get restless. Your voice cuts through the quiet room as you lift your head up slightly to look up at him. "You want to stay with me in the dorms tonight?" You ask softly.

    "I would love that." he says softly, leaning forward and placing his forehead on yours. His hand reaches to grab your wrist as it sits on your lap. He rubs your wrist slowly, running across a prominent vein that meets your palm.

   Suddenly, his free hand wraps around the back of your head, gently and quickly pulling you in. Before you can process whats happening, his lips press against yours. You melt into the kiss without another thought. His hand slides down and holds your face, his other hand dropping your wrist and reaching up behind your head. His long fingers running through your hair as you kiss. Your hands lay on his chest, squeezing him slightly when he pressed deeper. The kiss turns to into a heavy make out as he starts getting a bit carried away at the taste of your cherry lipstick. The kiss gets sloppy, making you squeeze your thighs together from the sudden burn between your legs. He breaks the kiss, breathing heavy, his hands on your hips. He's looking down at you with rosy cheeks. "Was that okay?" His voice was soft.

     You pant softly, your lips swollen from his passionate kiss. "Mhm," you nod.

    He quickly steals another kiss from you, shifting to face you. You go right back to making out again. He has a tight hold on your waist with one hand. His left hand traveling up to your back. You hold yourself up on the bed with your hand spread behind you. Your arm is thrown over his shoulder and around the back of his neck. His tongue pushes against yours, pulling you in for a kiss. It lasts for a few seconds that seem to be last a lifetime. His hand grips tighter at your waist, breathing heavily after he eventually broke the kiss. "I want you.." He whispers. His eyes are heavy and he's gazing at you in a way you didn't believe was possible.

    "I'm yours." You whisper without another thought, smiling.

    He pulls himself even closer, slowly and gently lying you down before leaning on top of you. He places his hand flat on your spine, whilst his other hand goes to your thigh. He kisses your neck and collarbone, the taste of your skin driving him crazy. For a moment, he loses himself in the taste, before he begins to wonder if you're feeling alright. He pauses again, letting himself catch breath before checking on you. "Are you comfortable? Do you want to continue this?"

    You nod, your fingers playing with the curls on the back of his neck. His hand is on your thigh, rubbing it lightly. "Yeah, I'm comfortable." You nod softly.

     He beams, a slight huff of excited laughter hitting your face. "You'll let me know if it's too much?" He asks softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

     "Mhm." You hum, pushing his head down to continue the kiss. He happily accepts the invitation, squeezing your thigh gently as his other arm is still wrapping under you as you lay on Theo's bed.

You both make out for a few more minutes. The touches become more and more heated with each second. Your nails dig into his shoulders as his hand travels up your thigh to rest on your hip underneath your skirt. A small moan rumbles against his lips as your back arched slightly against the mattress. His finger loops under the band of underwear on your hip.

As he begins to tug slightly, the door flys open and you and Joel rip apart from each other. Joel hops off the bed, scratching the back of his neck as his other hand travels to his front pocket. A poor attempt to hide the bulge in his jeans. You sit up on the bed, fixing your skirt and hair as you both look at the door.

Theo and Nessa stand at the door, their jaws dropped open at the sight in front of them. “No way,” A drunken Nessa giggled, covering her mouth.

“Nessa! Hi!” You squeak, getting up from the bed as the two drunken vampires giggle.

Joel’s face is beet red as his hands are stuck into his front pockets. You look over to see red lipstick smudged on his lips, some even in his stubble. You got hit with embarrassment, using your thumb to wipe around your lips to wipe off any smudged lipstick. “We were just getting some air.”

“More like sharing some air,” Theo laughs.

“Go back to the dorms,” Nessa smirks. “I’ll be here tonight.”

Instead of arguing you nod, grabbing onto Joel’s arm and leading him out of the room. The door closes behind you and you both look at each other in awe and embarrassment.

“Dude.” You breath out, a slow smile creeping onto your lips.

“That…” he tries to find words in his flustered state, “that was awkward.”

You both laugh, leaning into each other in a post make out haze. He tugs you into his arms for a moment, pulling you close as he rubs your back slowly. He presses a firm kiss to the crown of your head before pulling apart again.

“Should we head to your dorm?” He asks softly, biting the inside of his lip.

You smirk, grabbing his wrist. “C’mon, cowboy.”

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

moot tags: @annasinterests @ilovepedro @mandoisapunk @party-hearses @nostalxgic @bastardmandennis

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #contractor!joel miller #college!reader #childhood best friends to lovers #joel miller x f!reader

[mxcnliight]

baby, can you meet me tonight in detention? (cyj)

Choi Yeonjun your longtime bully has finally had enough of your and puts your in your place, but the teacher catches you guys. so you get to sent to detention with him. when you’re all alone with him, what will happen? ♫ I can feel your blood pressure rise, fuck this tension ♫

Paring: Bully!Yeonjun x Fem!Reader

Theme: One shot; SMUT, PWP, fluff (?)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warings: sexual tension; dirty talk; degradation; swearing; breath play(?); oral sex (f receiving); p in v penetration; unprotected sex + creampie (use a CONDOM)

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You yawn as boredom hits you, waiting for your math class to start. You have never been good at math nor were you ever interested in it, so you always just hope the teacher won’t call on you. 

You look out the window and see the sun shining, it’s a nice day today. No rain or clouds! You know you have to do something after school, maybe go to the ice cream shop with your friends or get a tan by the pool. 

Whatever it is, you know, you just can’t waste a day like this. Suddenly, you hear a jingle, right on time. You look over, and see your bully, Choi Yeonjun, walk into the classroom. 

He wore his signature black leather jacket with a white undershirt paired with black pants and black boots. His crimson red hair catches attention, so everybody can tell it's Choi Yeonjun. 

His eyes meet yours as you hold eye contact until he sits down at his desk. Looking away, you roll your eyes and wonder what torture you’ll be experiencing today. 

From the time you were a freshman, Yeonjun was your designated bully. He would slam your locker in your face, throw paper airplanes at you with nasty words in them, make you trip, etc. 

You didn’t know why he was bullying you, but you found out one day and it was the stupidest thing ever. You became best friends with a girl named Yuna and the reason why Yeonjun was bullying you was because he had a crush on her and you were "taking her away from him".

It was so dumb that you wanted to punch him for his stupidity, but you never got the chance (or strength). When Yeonjun first started bullying you, you were frail and fragile. 

You didn’t know how to handle him, but now as a senior year in high school, you have gotten used to his antics. You know how to handle him and protect yourself from him. 

You thought he would have stopped years ago, but he told you, “I’m not stopping until either I get caught or you go and be a little bitch and tattle tale on me, got it?” You still remember the cold glare he gave you that day. 

You would have told the school counselor, but you just felt too guilty to. Speaking of feeling guilty. Another thing Yeonjun did to you was manipulate you, but you wonder after you both graduate what he’s going to do? 

He’s not going to have another doll to play around with, unless he still keeps in contact with you, and you hope to god he doesn’t. Just then you feel something hit your head as you look down at a paper airplane now in your lap. 

You give Yeonjun a disappointed look as he gestures for you to open it. Rolling your eyes, you open it and it reads ‘You look like a witch with that makeup on you, did you even try this morning?’ You look back up at Yeonjun and he's stupidly smirking now. 

You roll your eyes and scoff before crumpling the paper airplane into a ball and throwing it in the trash can. Not cool Choi. You cross your arms and look up at the board. 

“Wanna piece of gum?” You look over and see Yuna holding out a piece to you. You nod and take it into your mouth before chewing. “Thanks.” She hums as you both look back at the board. “Alright class… let’s get started, shall we?”

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Forty minutes later and class is finally done, thank god. You barely understood any of the material, so you know you’ll need Yuna to explain to you later when you get home. 

You look to your left and see Yuna putting her folder in her bag. “Hey, could you explain the notes to me tonight?” You ask her. “I would love to, but I have a cheer meeting after school” she frowns. 

“I can teach it to you during study hall before class tomorrow?” “Yeah that’s fine, thanks.” She nods and smiles at you as you smile back at her. You begin to gather your things when you jump in your seat from hands slamming down on your desk. 

You look up and see Yeonjun towering over you and you frown. “What do you want, Choi?” “Did you do my English homework?” You smirk and scoff at him before laughing. 

“What’s so funny bitch?” He asks as you deadpan him. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Yeonjun, does it look like I’m your little servant? No.'' You begin to sling your bag over your shoulder when Yeonjun suddenly chokes you as you widen your eyes. 

Your hands go over his neck trying to pry them off of your neck. “What’d you say to me, you little bitch?” He says in a dark tone, staring dead into your soul. “I-i’m not your little servant… bitch.” You say, stuttering as he becomes enraged. 

As he was about to do something, he was interrupted. “Choi Yeonjun and Y/N L/N!” You both look over at your teacher who is fuming with anger. “I will not be having this type of ruckus in my classroom! Detention for both of you!” Yeonjun’s hand leaves your neck as you both look at each other and sigh. 

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It felt like forever to walk to the principal's office because Yeonjun was staring at you the whole time. You’re now sitting outside the principal's office waiting for him to get done with Yeonjun. If he hadn’t started this, you wouldn’t be here right now. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms; this was not the time to do something Choi. 

Out of the corner of your eye you see a lady walking towards you. “Here’s an ice pack, sweetie.” Your eyes widen at her kind gesture as you take the ice pack.

You thanked her as she left. You then put the ice pack around your neck. Just then you hear the door open as you look to your left and Yeonjun comes out with the secretary. 

Yeonjun sits beside you as the secretary lady squats down to your level before taking off her glasses and rubbing her forehead.“Alright so we have come to the conclusion that Yeonjun was the person that was responsible for this ruckus, but you were still involved, Y/N, so I will need both of you to report to Mrs. Hans’ room after school, is that understood?” 

You both nod as she puts her glasses back on and gets up. “I will write both of you passes for your next class.” She goes back into her office while you turn your head to match Yeonjun’s deathly stare.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once the end of the day hits, you go straight to Mrs. Hans’ room, not wanting to be late. Once you arrive in her room, you see Yeonjun isn’t here yet, which isn’t a shocker. 

You make your way over to a desk and sit down. You then put your bag in your lap, waiting for the period to start. A minute before the bell rings, Yeonjun arrives, looking angry as ever. 

You see him take a seat only 2 desks away from yours. You look back at the board before getting your lip gloss from your bag and applying some to your lips. 

You then smack them before putting the lip gloss back into your bag. The bell rings as Mrs. Hans sighs. “Alright, since both of you are here now, we can start. Welcome to detention, Yeonjun is a regular here, so I’m not surprised, but for you Mrs. L/N, I’m rather disappointed.” She gives you a side eye as you look away. 

“Anyways, you all know the drill. Phones in the basket,” she says, holding out a small basket. You look over at Yeonjun, who is getting out his phone, and so do you. 

You both get up and put your phones in Mrs. Hans’ basket. Once you sit back down, you put your bag on the floor next to you. “Now, silence for the next forty-five minutes.” You see her open her book as you roll your eyes; this can’t get any better, can it. 

Minutes pass as you are extremely bored; you get so bored that you count the tiles on the ceiling. You occasionally sneak glances at Yeonjun, but he is just as bored as you are. He is just staring at his hand; you wondered what was on there. 

Just then you hear a teacher come by Mrs. Hans’ room. Mrs. Hans then looks over at the teacher, then back at us. She sighs before grabbing her keys. “I’ll be right back,” she says before leaving. 

That's easy, huh? Now it is just you and Yeonjun both sitting in silence. “Why do you have to be such a bitch?” You look over at Yeonjun, oh, he’s starting this now? “Oh, so I’m the bitch? Says the guy that has bullied me for four years straight,” you say, before rolling your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for you,” he replies. “Oh no Yeonjun. I wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for your selfish, greedy, egotistical self! I have done nothing wrong, it’s all your fault, Yeonjun!” You raise your voice as you stare at him. 

He clenches his jaw and balls his hand into a fist. “No, it’s all you, Y/N. You’re the selfish egotistical bitch, you always have been!” “For what?! For taking your girlfriend?! If you really wanted her, you should have just asked her out!” He goes silent as you sigh until you suddenly get slammed into the desk next to you. 

You look up in confusion as Yeonjun wraps his hand tightly around your neck. “Who told you I liked that little bitch?” You look at him confused. “You do like her, don't you?” He then does something unexpected: he kisses you. 

Your eyes widen as he roughly makes out with you. You whimper, trying to pry Yeonjun’s hand from your neck because you can hardly breathe. He breaks the kiss and stares at you intensely. “I like you, you little brat” Your eyes widened; he did not just say that. 

“W-what?” You say as he flips you around and your hands meet the cold service of the desk. “Yeonjun, let’s talk about this-'' Just then he rips your patines off from underneath your dress and throws them away. 

He then wraps one of his hands around your mouth. “Be a good girl and keep quiet, okay?” He then removes his hand and goes down between your legs, holding them open. Your face heats up as you can feel his breath on your pussy. 

You whimper, “Y-yeonjun… what are you doing?” He then chuckles as his hands meet the sides of your thighs, “I want your slutty fucking pussy in my mouth.” You moan at his words. “But Yeonjun, we can’t… not here.” “Yes we can and you are going to give it to me.” 

You feel his tongue on your clit as you whimper; you put your hand around your mouth trying not to moan. He licks back and forth up your slit as you're trying so hard not to moan. 

He flattens his tongue on your clit and begins to kiss at it. You whimper a bit, but not too loud. You could get caught at any moment, but it feels so good. Along with him making out with your pussy. You’re still trying to process that Yeonjun apparently likes you. 

His tongue moves to your hole, slowly teasing it. “I want your fucking pussy cream on my tongue,” he demands as you moan at his words. He then slaps your thigh with his free hand and you let out a yelp. “What did I say about keeping quiet?” He growls as he begins to flick his tongue along your hole. You close your eyes in pleasure. 

“You like that?” He asks as you hum, still trying so hard not to moan. “This pussy’s fucking mine. I own it.” He growls as he starts to sloppily kiss your hole. You whimper at his words as he growls on your pussy. 

“Don’t you fucking cum yet,” he demands as he increases his tongue movements as you try not to moan. His fingers then move up to your clit, slowly circling around it, sending you more pleasure. 

“Yeonjun, please,” you cry out as you can feel him smirk. He moves two fingers to your hole and slowly pumps them inside as you moan. He continues to lick your pussy while his fingers are fucking in and out of your wet hole. 

“Shit… you feel that? My fingers in your pussy and tongue on your clit?” You whimper at his words as you nod. “I just want you to give in to me. Give it to me, yeah? Push your pussy in my fucking face.” You push your hips down a bit at him as you feel him growl at your pussy sending vibrations up your back. 

“Fuck baby, I need you inside of me.” He then gets up and puts his hand on your chin, forcing you to look at him before he kisses you. His hands sneak up your body to meet your clothed breasts, slowly massaging them. 

He then breaks the kiss and takes his pants off along with his boxers. You look back in anticipation for his cock to be inside you. “Fuck baby, are you ready?” You nod as he lifts your dress up with one hand and uses the other to slowly push his thick cock in.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you out. “So tight, only for me right?” “Mhm, all for you,” you say as he completely bottoms you out. You whimper at the feeling as his hands meet your hips. 

One of his hands reaches up and wraps around your mouth; again, he gets close to your ear and whispers. “Be quiet” Before he starts thrusting into you, you throw your head back in pleasure.

It feels so good, you have never felt anything like this before. “You’re mine, alright? Mine. Nobody’s else’s. You belong to Choi Yeonjun.” You moan into his hand as you feel tears in your eyes.

He then grunts out, “Oh fuck baby pussy’s so fucking good, who knew it would only take a dicking down for you to shut up?” You whimper at his words as his thrusts increase, pounding into you. 

It feels so good, yet you feel a wave of embarrassment hit you with Yeonjun fucking you in detention. “Mhm, fuck baby,” he lets out a low chuckle. “You’re going to be my dumb little bitch, hm? Gonna take all of my cum in your tight little pussy mhm?” He mumbles in your ear as your eyes close, you are so close to your orgasm. 

“Oh baby, you close? I can feel you fucking clench around me. You wanna cum hm?” he says as you nod vigorously, wanting to release the tension building up in your body. 

You feel Yeonjun smirk as he kisses your cheek. “Nobody's  stopping you Y/N. Cum for me.” His thrusts increase as you almost yell into his hand around your mouth as if it is so much pleasure. 

You then feel Yeonjun’s free hand move down to your clit, rubbing to the pace of his thrusts. “Come on baby. You don’t want to get caught, do you? So then fucking cum for me,” he growls into your ear. 

His words give you the final push, and your orgasm shoots through your body as your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Fuck yeah baby! Just like that, mhm, you’re going to make me cum too,” he says as he releases his hand from your mouth as you crash onto the desk while Yeonjun’s still trying to chase his orgasm. “Oh shit-“ He says as his cum shoots into your pussy, filling you right up.

You both try to catch your breath as you’re still lying lifeless on the desk. You feel Yeonjun slip out as he breathes heavily. “Who knew a brat like you had a good pussy?” You roll your eyes at his comments and turn around to kiss him. 

His thumb rubs on your jaw as you kiss. You break it and huff out at him, “I hate you.” He chuckles, “Says the one who just came on me.” You roll your eyes when you hear something as you both scramble to get your clothes on. 

You then return to your seats like normal as Mrs. Hans comes back in. “You two didn’t do anything while I was gone?” She asks as you look back at Yeonjun, then look back at her to nod. Once detention is done, you both finally get your phones back as you are about to walk out the door. Yeonjun stops you as you look back up at him in confusion. “Could I have your number, baby?”.

#txt #txt moa #txt fanfiction #txt fanfic #txt fic #txt smut #txt yeonjun #choi yeonjun #cyj #yeonjun smut #yeonjun imagine #txt imagine #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt x you #tomorrow x together #txt yeonjun smut #txt choi yeonjun

[dumb-teambucciarati-headcanons]

Education headcanons:

Although some of these are canon

Giorno: is still in highschool, but stopped showing up for class when he joined passione. He still makes a point to always be learning, but only focuses on subjects he is interested in. He knows lots of information about the biological world, but has no idea what certain historical figures have done, unless they were particularly interesting to him. Also he sucks at spelling words correctly. In elementary school he wrote a research report on different types of bugs and accidentally released a bunch of bugs into the school and that apparently bothered some of the teachers and other students.

Bruno: he has like half of a middle school education, and his grades were never super high because he would spend time helping his dad with work instead of completing his homework. Up until his parents divorce, then his dad wanted him to focus more on school. But that stopped after his dads incident, and he started providing for him and his dad and protecting him. He asked Fugo to teach him some math, and Fugo reluctantly agreed. But Fugo will go out of his way to try to avoid having to tutor the man because Bruno has a rough time understanding simple concepts and it makes Fugo want to resort to violence. But Fugo respects Bruno and doesn’t want to snap at him because he knows he isn’t trying to piss him off, Bruno’s just dumb as fuck sometimes.

Abbacchio: has a highschool education and went to the police academy. He also has a few basic college courses under his belt. He had a “have to learn in order to get the job I want” mentality towards school, opposed to being super interested in it. He failed PE in middle school and was bullied for it so badly that he started working out everyday so that would never happen again. Also I kinda think he has a photographic memory, which his stand reflects well. He went to a Catholic highschool and his parents were upset that he hadn’t met a nice catholic girl by the time he graduated highschool.

Mista: has a highschool education and wasn’t really interested in getting any degrees, kinda just wanted to fuck around in his young adult years. Math made him cry, and not because he didn’t understand it, he was actually good at math. But the number 4 would haunt his papers. Asked a lot of questions during class. were they ever relevant? No. Did he ask them? Yes. “Hey teach, so gravity. Like what if instead of the earth having a gravitational pull some rando named, uh, Seth did. But ONLY Seth, and everyone was constantly being pulled towards Seth and if you jumped you’d land back on Seth. How would we survive as a species if that were the case?”

Narancia: elementary school dropout. Gets distracted super easily. Would rather do anything but school, however he is very sensitive about having not even finished elementary school. He will pep talk himself into wanting to learn math and things, and then he will start again and will remember why he hates school. But it’s worse when he actually goes to school and sees eight year olds that understand things better than him. opposed to Fugo tutoring him and only having to feel stupid in front of the smartest person he has ever met, like everyone else feels stupid around Fugo too so.

Fugo: you know, the gifted child that went to university super early. Smartest one in the group. He was the kid that would use his pencils entirely until they were sharpened into tiny little things you could barely hold. Also he bites his pens and pencils. He thinks the pencils are more flavorful. Oh and erasers, those tasted good too. The other kids never wanted to play with him because of his short temper, but that didn’t matter because his parents told him that only stupid kids use recess time to play. Classrooms were super overstimulating for him, with that stupid LED lighting that made him feel like he needed to blink his eyes a hundred times. And then doing that would make him feel dizzy and irritable. Like the lights were the worst amount of bright and the worst shade of the color white, and if one of the bulbs flickered he would feel like throwing up. His parents thought he had been drinking once after being in a classroom for too long, but no it was the lights.

Trish: she isn’t stupid, but she was definitely the type to get others to do her homework for her. Is in the middle of highschool. she would spend all of study hour planning elaborate schemes to skip class with her and her friends. Wanted to go to college but wasn’t sure how she was going to pay for it, her new plan involves passione money. That or she is going to become famous, if Bruno and co. would actually let her live instead of saying things like “it’s too dangerous with other mafia members knowing your name”.

#jjba part 5 #headcanons #narancia ghirga #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #jojos bizarre adventure #pannacotta fugo #trish una #giorno giovanna #Abbacchio grew up Catholic headcanon #because I need someone to project religious trauma onto sorry #also am I the only one that can’t stand that one particular type of overhead light they use in schools? #I legitimately can’t drive if I’m in a room with those lights for too long #I’m more of a leave the lights off and let the sunlight light up my home kinda person #if the power ever went out at school I rejoiced

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 21

Executive dysfunction is a bitch and can go to hell. I had something I could have posted yesterday while I was working on this, but no...

I am starting to wonder if maybe I shot myself in the foot with my tag rant as engagement for the last Reconnect AU was WAY down. But oh well. I can only continue to move on and hope I find new people who like my stuff.

All righty, my lovelies. We have gotten to the part where I was going to end it originally before you absolute menaces said you wanted me to continue it through season 4.

But here’s the deal, this story has reached nearly novel length of 40k. So what I’ve decided to do is call this the end of book one. And then I will start up book two, which will be through to the end of the school year and probably through the events of season 3. And then book 3 should take us the rest of the way.

I hope that’s acceptable to all of you. I want to continue it, but I think from here on out the title doesn’t fit Steve anymore and he needs a new one.

Now if you’ve followed me long enough, you know that I don’t start putting out a story until it’s done (if it’s short enough) or if I’m three to four chapters deep. So hopefully by the end of the month (if not sooner) you should start seeing book two.

I will run a poll on how you think I should do the tag list for it. But thank you all for coming with me on this absolutely wild ride. And hope you’ll stick around for the next two parts.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

***

Word had been handed down, Mindy Jones, Ollie Anderson, and Kyle Carver had been suspended with word that Kyle being the instigator might be expelled. For sure he wasn’t going to be able to walk in his cap and gown at graduation.

Steve felt a sense of relief and strangely justice too. Yes, all right suspension wasn’t getting expelled, but the kids had been punished. They didn’t try to hand wave it away.

Steve had heard that Mr Vinke, the math teacher, Mr Cole, Miss Lucy, and Chief Hopper had all gone to the principal and superintendent for all three of them to be expelled.

The suspension was a given, but the school district wanted to do their own investigation and then expulsions might be handed out after it was complete.

Steve didn’t have much hope.

Marty, Gethin, and Janice all sat with the Corroded Coffin boys at lunch, something they didn’t normally do.

“Fuck,” Janice swore. “Why I am more nervous about tonight than I have all week?”

Steve nodded, poking at his food. “I haven’t been this queasy since I took a plate to the head.”

Everyone winced and murmured sympathetic platitudes and other noises of sympathy.

“I think it’s because it’s your last performance,” Gethin murmured. “Your last chance to completely biff it on stage.” Steve and Janice looked at him in wide-eyed fear. He waved his hands placatingly. “Not that I think you will. Just that your brain thinks you will.”

Steve and Janice looked at each other and then nodded.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “That tracks.”

Eddie slid his hand under the table and gripped Steve’s knee. Steve covered his hand with his own and gave it a squeeze of thank you.

*

Steve scanned the crowd the second night. He spotted Jeff and all his family, Gareth and Gethin and their parents, Brian and all of his younger siblings, and what looked like his dad. Wayne shuffled in his seat nervously, having never been to a musical before. But still no sign of his parents.

His mom promised that at least she would be there, even if his dad refused to come. And he held on to that. He managed to make it through the show and held it together.

He went out to be congratulated by his friends and their families. Wayne brought him flowers.

“You did good, boy,” he said gruffly, after giving him a hug. “I looked it up and flowers are the gift you give someone after a well-done performance.”

Steve looked down at the bouquet of wild flowers and smiled. “Thank you. I love them.”

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. “They might be a tad wilted by the time we’re done, because we’re taking you out to eat in celebration.”

Steve teared up a bit. “Thanks, guys.”

Gareth smiled. “You deserve it, man. That was awesome!”

Gethin nudged his shoulder. “We’re just waiting for Janice and Eddie to get done.”

Steve nodded. Eddie had to reset the stage for tomorrow and Janice had to get out of a corset and that took some time.

“Yeah, no problem!” he enthused.

Eddie finished first and came out to meet them.

“Hey, Steve!” he said. “Feeling famous yet?”

Steve laughed. “I’m going to get fat if this keeps up. First ice cream last night and then dinner tonight.”

They all laughed. “It’s impossible for you to gain weight, man,” Brian huffed. “I’ve seen you eat a whole pizza and didn’t even get bloated.”

Steve laughed. “Playing three sports does that to you. Hell, I still life guard at the rec center every summer.”

Brian eyed his lean form skeptically. “I suppose so.”

“Swimming’s fun,” Steve said. “And it’s not just for us jock types.”

Janice finally came out. “Sorry to keep you waiting guys. Sharing with Tammy Thompson is hell let me tell you. I don’t know how someone so tiny can take up so much room.”

“At least you don’t have to share the choir room with twenty sweaty dudes that wouldn’t know deodorant if it bit them in the ass,” Steve grumped.

Gethin shook his head. “Shouldn’t you be used to that from sports?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “At least there are showers after basketball. Can’t say the same here.”

Gethin’s lips curled. “Fair.”

Wayne clapped his hands. “All right, I’ve got us a place reserved, so we need to hustle. Eddie and Steve are coming with me.”

Eddie and Steve filed out with the rest of them and followed Wayne out to his truck.

Steve slid into the middle between Eddie and Wayne.

“Thanks for this, Wayne,” he murmured. “And the flowers, too.”

“You’re welcome, Stevie,” he said. “I didn’t see your parents. Did they show up last night?”

Steve shared a glance with Eddie and then shook his head. “There’s still tomorrow.”

Wayne and Eddie shared a glance of concern over Steve’s head.

“I’m sure that’s the case,” Wayne agreed.

An uneasy silence settled on them as they drove to the restaurant. Wayne parked and turned to Steve.

He pulled him in for a great big hug and then opened the door. “It’ll be all right.”

Steve nodded and slid out after Eddie.

The dinner was just as ruckus as the ice cream parlor the night before. With just as many people. Steve looked around and smiled.

Yeah, 1985 was his year and it was just getting started.

*

Steve looked out to the audience and knew, even in the dimmed lights his parents weren’t there.

“Tell me, Mr Thomson, out of curiosity, do you stand with Mr Dickinson, or do you stand with me?” Vince asked.

Steve could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. He held up the dispatch. “I stand with the General. Lately–I’ve had the oddest feeling that he’s been–writing to me…”

He slowly rose to his feet as he sang,

“I have been in expectation Of receiving a reply On the subject of my last fifteen dispatches. Is anybody there?”

His voice cracked with emotion as he stepped half out of the spotlight.

“Does anybody care? Does anybody care? Y’r humble & ob’d’t–”

The drum rolled and Steve looked up into the eagle’s nest where Eddie was doing the spotlight. A single tear ran down his cheek.

Steve looked down at the paper in his hand and then back up at Eddie. And then he exited the scene on cue.

Eddie swore he saw more tears in that moment then for ‘Mama Look Sharp’ that night.

But that performance of Steve’s brought out something in Vince in that moment. Vince’s John Adams bid Hancock good night, but then it changed. All the emotion and fear of not being seen or heard. The loneliness that Adams must have been feeling in that moment, borrowed from the loneliness of both Washington and Thomson.

“Is anybody there–”

Silence.

“Does anybody care–?”

Again, nothing.

“Does anybody see–what I see?”

And then Kenny came on and delivered the line with a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.

“Yes, Mr Adams, I do.” As if to banish all the fears and insecurities that John was having in that moment.

And Steve could almost hear it as though it was coming from Eddie. As if it was coming from his friends. The party. Wayne.

Yes, his parents weren’t there. They never were. And probably never were going to be. But that didn’t mean that no one was listening to Steve. That no one cared.

They all cared. Every last one of the dozens of people that showed up the last two nights. They cared. They brought their families. Brought flowers. Thought he was worthy of celebrating. Worth treating.

For the boy with the bat.

The boy that never knew what love really was until he looked up from a god damned garbage can into those warm and friendly brown eyes. A warm hand on his back and a gentle ‘Are you okay?’

In that moment, Steve’s life had become changed. Different. Better. All because a teacher took pity on Steve and chose Eddie Munson of all people to be Steve’s protector.

And he looked up at Eddie in the rafters and though he couldn’t see him, he knew that Eddie was looking back at him. Smiling back at him. Loving him for all his worth.

And if you had asked Steve what his worth was back in December he would have told you nothing. He wasn’t worth anything but being the baby-sitter. But now?

Now Steve was a baby-sitter, chauffeur, groupie, actor, chef, swimmer, friend, brother, and most importantly boyfriend. And maybe if he was really lucky, someone’s son.

***

Fin.

Fuck, rereading this to add back in the formatting made me cry. My apologies if it makes you cry too.

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @garden-of-gay @anaibis @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites   @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead  @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @lovelyscot @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @jinxjinn @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @estrellami-1 @dangdirtydemons @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

[justasimp1]

I ADORE YOUR WRITING AND I JUST NEED FIVE HARGREEVES WITH A SHY GN READER. LIKE MAYBE THEY'RE ACTUALLY REALLY SMART BUT ONLY FIVES SEES THAT BECAUSE HE KNOWS THEM WELL BUT THE OTHERS DONT SEE IT BECAUSE THEY'RE REALLY quite??

I'm sorry if you wanted a full actual onehsot but with this idea I just thought of a fluffy ramble

Five Hargreeves x GN! Reader

Fluff, Ramble

Petal

This was just supposed to be a simple escape room. So why were they arguing–again... "Did you just graduate from the 4th grade?" Diego mumbled to Viktor. "Says the person who didn't know how to spell 'beginning" He muttered back. He narrowed his eyes at him, "There's too many fucking ns" He grumbled, balling his fist.

"Five, hurry the fuck up!" Allison hissed, eyeing the clock in the corner of the room. Five furrowed his brows, pinching his temples in thought. He was shuffling through different combinations. You bit your tongue, staying silent.

Klaus was on his knees, praying to whatever new God he believed in. Luther just leaned on the wall muttering, instigating Diego. The shouting back and forth filled your ears, making you squeeze your eyes shut. "Y/n, I need your help" The mention of your name leaving Five's mouth made everything silent.

Everyone stopped their bickering, turning their heads. Even though no one said anything, their expressions implied enough. You shifted your weight to the balls of your feet. You opened your mouth, your words hesitantly falling out. "What's the equations again?"

"First number, is (7 × 9 + 2)3" Viktor explained slowly as if you were a child. "Second number is 3 + 1 × 2" Klaus lifted his head from his praying stance, but he still had a slightly condescending tone. "Third, is [9 × 5(88 - 56)" Allison finished off, crossing her arms, glancing at Five.

The questions weren't that hard but seeing as there was no paper to work with, the numbers could slip away in your head. You stepped up to the lock, thumb grazing the 3-number lock. The wheel was loose, rolling underneath your skin. Five stood patiently, glaring at any of his siblings who dared to break your concentration.

"All the answers equal 1,640 so my guess is 164" You didn't realize you were holding your breath until a pounding sensation engulfed your brain. You turned the number wheels, and the lock clicked. The object fell open in your palm, you opened the door, the next room's layout in view.

"It's vampire-themed?" You smiled, turning back to Five whose mouth was parted. "That was quicker than expected" Five whispered, he knew you were ridiculously smart but you always shocked him with your timely skills. The other Hargreeves siblings seemed ever more surprised.

Expected Klaus who seemed— thankful? "You are an angel, a godsend. We've been at that level for ages" Klaus crawled vastly to the entrance, giving a quick bow to you. "Well maybe if you idiots would stop bickering and asked them for help this could've happened sooner"

Diego did not take being called an idiot light. "Well, how was I supposed to know they're some type of freaky genius!" He stormed to Five, smacking him aside the head. "Ask, dumbass, or get to know them" Five pushed him back.

"But you're just so..." Diego turned to you, gesturing to your presence. You walked inside the new room with the rest of the siblings. "Quiet," They all say union. You hummed, nodding, sinking away from all the attention. "Do something useful and search for clues" Five pushed past them, guiding you to a corner of the room.

"So you think you could carry us out of this?" He smirked. "It was just 3 math problems...it wasn't that spectacular" You muttered, turning over small objects, checking for numbers or letters. He turned around, looking at his distracted family.

He leaned closer, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. You wanted to bask in the exploding emotion longer but Five pulled away. "You're so smart" He laughed at your shocked face. You bit the inside of your cheek, leaning forward to him again.

Five's hand snaked to your hand, intertwining your fingers. "Guys! I found something~" Klaus called from inside a coffin. You giggled, rushing over to help him out the narrow box.

Masterlist

#fanfic #x reader #fluff #number five x reader #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreves fluff #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves fluff #five hargreaves fluff

[lost-walmartbag]

First Impressions

Song

Warning: Swearing

Background: You've been dating Eric for a while now, and now it's time for the next step. Meeting his mom.

Status: Ongoing

Next part

Good thing

Dating Eric was...surprisingly pretty awesome. I mean, if you knew him before, you'd expect him to be a shitty partner, but no.

You met him in your last year of college. You both had the same math class and practically needed each other to pass. He was a long way from home and you didn't know many people either so it was only natural you both spent a lot of time together.

After you both graduated, you just kept hanging out. You two were almost inseparable. it's only natural you two started dating. Although neither of you had asked the other out, it just kinda went home with you one day and never left. But you wouldn't want it any other way.

He cared about you, waited on you hand and foot, and complimented you to the point of annoyance. Sure, he wasn't always like this, ya know, keeping up appearances in front of his friends and all that but it was kinda nice seeing a part of him that was meant for you and you alone.

So, it was only natural that after almost a year of dating, you'd want to meet his parents. Well, parent. Eric had said in passing when you first started dating that he didn't have a dad and was raised only by his mom.

You didn't really care about that. I mean, she must have done a good job considering how amazing Eric was. Right?

But no matter how much you wanted to meet her, Eric would change the subject. You'd think the ceiling really did need sweeping from how much he used it to avoid talking about bringing you home.

"Come on, Eric, pleeeaassseee?" You said, clasping your hands together and giving him puppydog eyes.

"Ya know, I'm thinking maybe I should grow a beard." He said, looking into the bathroom mirror, clearly trying once again to change the subject.

"No, come on, don't change the subject. Eric please? I really wanna meet her."

Eric put down his razor and looked at you. "Come on Y/N we got a good thing here. Let's just give it some more time. Maybe....next year?"

"Eric, are you serious? We've been dating for almost a year now!"

"Hey, we never had that conversation." He said, putting up his hands defensively with a smirk on his face.

"Oh, so do I need to take you off the lease?" You asked with a frown.

"W-what? No no no no I'm sorry." He said, gently putting his hands on your shoulders.

"Then let me meet her? Why are you so hesitant? Are you...are you embarrassed of me?" You asked, looking up at him. Your eyes showed how hurt you were at the idea that maybe Eric wasn't as committed you as you had thought.

Seeing that look in your eyes, Eric knew he couldn't continue to ignore this, especially from how important it seemed to you. With a defeated sigh, he pulled you into an embrace.

"No, I'm not embarrassed of you. I'm...I'm embarrassed of myself."

"Why?" You said, looking up at him.

"There's just a lot you don't know about who I was back home and I...I don't know if I'm ready for you to know all that yet." He said with a nervous smile. "Kinda was hoping I never would."

"Eric, I like being with you. I like you for you. The old you isn't you now." You said with a soft smile, gently cupping his cheek, which he immediately closes his eyes and leans into.

"I know, but...it's...I don't want you to think...less of me.." He said netting out a shaky breath.

"Come on, Eric. Nothing can make me think less of you." You said gently, kissing his cheek. "So please? Let me meet your mom. I like already requested that time off."

Eric opened his eyes and looked down at you. He bit his lip, hesitating but being powerless against your puppydog eyes.

"Fine... you can meet her."

You smiled brightly and peppered his face with small kisses. "Eeek! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh fuck I need to make something. Oh god, oh god. Pack your bags, baby. we're going to south park!"

Eric watched with a small smile as you ran out of the bathroom to grab your things. He liked how excited you were...so why couldn't he shake off this pit in his stomach?

A/N: Hey, yall, thank yall so much for reading this and being patient with me. Things are hectic but it's ok. I'm ok. Thank you guys so much for the support. So lemme be real with yall about what's happening. No more schedule. I'll post when I post because every time I miss an upload day I hate myself and that's not good for me. So thank you guys for understanding that. Anyway love yall thank you for reading. Bye bye. 🩷🩷🩷🩷

#south park x reader #south park #fanfic #south park x you #x reader #eric cartman x reader #eric cartman #sp cartman #south park cartman

[blushweddinggowns]

Dustin Henderson was not, or would ever be, a cool guy. If anything he was a certified dork, but oh well. He knew that, and he had accepted it. It used to bother him a lot more, being aware that he would never be a part of the popular crowd. He was too weird, his interests too niche. Not to mention his condition. That had been a bitch to deal with, physically and socially.

But the thing was, despite his own uncool factor, he had the coolest older friends. Like, ever. There was Steve, who somehow managed to give him girl advice that worked, despite the fact he’d never been with one. Girl advice that definitely helped him land the best, prettiest, and smartest girlfriend in existence. 

And then there was Eddie, the coolest Dungeon Master to ever exist. Something that Dustin didn’t even feel guilty saying, not when Mike was his biggest fan. He was insanely creative. And he was also in a freaking metal band? And let him and all of his nerd friends come to one of his shows at the Hideout? He was also like, one of the most avid readers that Dustin had ever met, whether that be through fantasy or history books. And he knew like a shit ton about politics, even if it was only to have stuff to back up all of his anti-establishment ideals. He was so freaking smart, maybe not in like, science or math and all of the stuff Dustin was good at, but everything else? Genius, or at least in Dustin’s opinion. Maybe not necessarily his level of genius, but he was still up there. 

Which begged the question, why the hell did a guy like that have to redo his senior year? Especially since Steve had managed to graduate. 

Dustin loved Steve, he did. And in no way did he think that he was dumb. He was just smart in different ways, like having great instincts and kinetic skills. Well… he did do stupid shit but like, in a smart way? Maybe? Dustin wasn’t quite sure how to categorize his favorite weirdo. But one thing was for sure: if Steve could do it, why couldn’t Eddie? 

He doesn’t ask right away. He’d become a little bit more self-aware over the years, and he knew waltzing right up to him and asking, Hey, if you aren’t stupid then why can’t you finish highschool? was not a good idea. But he does wait for an opportunity. Because Dustin is Dustin and works in almost all accelerated classes, he actually managed to share two of them with Eddie. And it’s not until he forces Eddie to be his lab partner in Chemistry when he starts to get it.

It’s not that he’s stupid, he just literally can not pay attention. 

“Dude, come on!” Dustin groaned, head in his hands in front of his open textbook, “How are you not getting this?”

He could fucking hear the ghost voice of Steve in his head, bitching at him for his tone, but this was just to frustrating. And Eddie’s nonchalant attitude wasn’t helping things. 

Eddie shrugged, too busy spinning his keys on his finger instead of actually reading what was in front of him, "Told you you didn't want me as a partner."

Dustin could feel his eye twitch and if Steve wasn’t in the other room, he probably would be yelling in frustration at this point. But the last thing he needed was to end up under Steve’s armpit for a well-deserved noogie. 

“I just don’t get what the problem is!” Dustin groaned, “Like I know you’re not stupid, so why are you acting like it?”

Eddie glared at him, feet propped up on the table, “Rude.”

“Well it’s true!” Dustin hissed, “Seriously dude, what the hell is the problem?”

Eddie sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “It’s not that I can’t understand. I just… can’t make myself care.”

That was weird. Dustin cocked his head at him, confused, “What does that mean?”

“Like…” Eddie tried, struggling for the words, “It doesn’t grab me? I don’t know, but I can read a paragraph and have none of it stick, no matter how many times I go over it. And you’re right. I’m not stupid, But if I’m not interested it’s like… my brain stops working. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

That… actually made more sense than Dustin had been expecting. He was pretty damn sure he could work with that, “So we just need to find a way to make it interesting to you right?”

Eddie raised a brow at him, “I guess?”

Yeah, he could definitely work with that. He sent Eddie to the other room, to do God knows what with Steve before getting to work. It was kind of a big project to randomly take on during the middle of a Sunday, but he managed. He might not have been as good an artist as Will, but he could at least add a decorative flair to it. 

Three hours later and two check-ins from Steve and he was done. He nearly skipped to the living room, too excited to even roll his eyes at the way both of them were shamelessly tangled on the couch together.

He skidded to a stop in front of them, proudly displaying his newly titled notebook, “Tada! The world’s first Dungeons and Dragons themed study guide!”

Was that a nerdy thing to say? Maybe, but Dustin didn’t care. He was proud of this one.

Eddie sat up, wide-eyed as he plucked it from Dustin’s hands while he explained what was inside, “So I set it up with a guide to translate real world chemicals to potions in the game right? And then the formulas are written here but the problems are all worded like you’re trying to do alchemy in the game. And here….”

He explained the whole thing, his smile growing as Eddie got more and more excited. Steve looked… happy for them? Even if he was slightly judging, just a little bit. But there were some things that jocks would just never understand. 

Besides, it did work. And it worked pretty damn well in Dustin’s opinion. He was the only one that Eddie even let try to tutor him, because he was the only one who actually understood his problem, despite how clearly Eddie was able to put it. 

It definitely made him feel special, because he was special. Eddie even said so, beyond grateful that he found himself able to pay attention to his hard subjects for the first time in… ever. It was the least he could do. Especially since he was dealing with what was probably the only school year in his life to have zero bullies. And he knew it wasn’t because everyone in highschool was magically more mature. He’d walked in on an insane amount of swirlies and heard too many insults hurled at other kids to think otherwise. But luckily enough for him, people just… stayed clear of Eddie. Like he was actually scary or something. And… okay. Maybe he was a little. But only when he was like, insanely angry. Like rabid-dog angry, but that wasn’t an everyday thing. Though that didn’t stop everyone else from avoiding Eddie and most of his friends like the plague. 

But Dustin was lucky enough to fit in a little better, which was good for all of the extracurricular shit he had to do with random people. It helped that he was friends with Lucas, who was bordering on the edge of just being completely normal, the traitor. And getting rides to-and-from school from Steve himself was also a major plus. It wasn’t like the equivalent to having a car, but it was close enough. And a surprising amount of girls were silly enough to think they could have a chance with him. Which was kind of insane, considering how he really never tried. 

Dustin considered the world lucky that Steve turned out to be gay. Otherwise he’d be too powerful. How would anyone else have a chance?

And weirdly enough, the random crushes actually worked in Dustin’s favor. At least when it came to random project partners and tiny club elections, but still. It was nice to have friends that were so cool. Cool enough to make Dustin not feel like a weirdo among his other peers for the first time in his life, while not having to change a single thing about himself. 

It was nice. Really, really nice. So yes, Dustin Henderson was a dork. But now he was a dork with an edge. 

from the latest chapter of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the universe trapped in your skin #dustin henderson #i think these are just short enough to work for the tumblrs #not that it's stopped me before #steddie childhood friends au #and shhh im an art student don't question the non existenet chemistry #its fiiiine