#adjusting to a school schedule is going to be the worst

[teapartyprincess4two]

can you write another Matt story? I'm obsessed with your writing!! <3

Manage- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Secretary!reader x Boss!Matt

classification: smut w/ a plot

warnings: 18+, MDNI, use of y/n, power dynamic, sexual content, suggestive content, slight cursing, mentions of alcohol use, mentions of jealousy, literal sex

summary: You’re Matt’s secretary, in charge of overseeing everything related to his schedule. Everyday when you come into the office he suppresses the urge to take you then and there. When on a work business trip, he can’t hold back anymore.

—

You loved your job, not because it was your dream job, but because it was easy. You went into work, did what you had to do, and at the end of the day you could go home and disconnect from it entirely. There were some odd days when your boss, Matthew, would call you in your days off or call you from home to ask about something. But, for the most part, you could completely forget about the job once you clocked out.

Just because the job was easy doesn’t mean that there wasn’t rules to be followed. As the boss of a world renowned magazine company, Matt always made sure to enforce them. For example, deadlines had to be met, sales were critical, and the workplace environment was meant to remain professional. He was a strict, straightforward boss and didn’t play when it came to the rules. Another one of his big rules was time management, he hated when people were late.

You were running a little late today, and as the boss’s secretary that was completely unacceptable. You stayed up late last night with an old friend, catching up on life and drinking one too many glasses of wine. Before you knew it, it was midnight and you still weren’t home. By the time you fell asleep it was already 3 in the morning. As a result, this morning you woke up late, you had to force yourself out of bed and rush to get ready.

So, now you’re walking into the office an hour late wearing an outfit you would’ve never picked out if you were in your right state of mind. You avoid eye contact with your coworkers as you make your way to your desk that’s situated in yours and Matt’s shared office. That was the worst part, out of all your coworkers you were the only one who had to be with the boss throughout the entire work day. There was no room for mistakes, especially on your part.

“You’re late,” Matt grumbles as he watches you dump your things onto your desk. You looked frazzled, but he wasn’t going to make an exception for you just because you were his secretary. Sure he’d built a rapport with you from working alongside you all these years, but if he made an exception for you then he’d have to do it for everyone.

“I know, I’m so sorry Mr. Sturniolo,” you reply meekly, avoiding eye contact out of embarrassment. You hated this, you felt like a school girl getting reprimanded for missing homework. If he wasn’t such a strict boss, maybe you’d take the time to explain why you were late, but you knew better than that. He would just see it as an excuse and write you off as a lazy employee.

Matt takes a long look at you, you were wearing a skirt that was definitely not workplace appropriate. He hated how easily he got riled up at the sight of your legs. He looks away immediately, training his gaze on the computer in his desk. “I’ve got a lot of meetings today, Y/n. I need you performing at your best potential, so get it together,” he says sternly, trying to think about anything other than you in that tiny skirt. You finally situate yourself at your desk, adjusting your skirt so it won’t ride up. It’s no use, this skirt was definitely not meant for the office.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, turning on your computer and preparing yourself for the long work day ahead.

—

For the rest of the day you sit in business meetings taking notes and writing down important dates and deadlines. For the most part, you’re really bored, but you were already late today and can’t afford another mistake, so you try your best to pay attention so you don’t miss anything.

Matt sits next to you, watching as you mindlessly take notes on what the presenter is saying. These meetings were very important and it was imperative that he paid attention too, but he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down to your legs. They’re crossed under the table, your ankle swaying back and forth rhythmically. If he could, he’d crawl under the table and spread your leg-

“Okay, Mr. Sturniolo, you’re up,” the presenter suddenly says, breaking him from his thoughts. Matt coughs awkwardly, adjusting his pants slightly to hide his growing erection. He stands from his seat, taking the remote clicker from the man and continuing the presentation.

Matt knows this information like the back of his hand, it’s all numbers and statistics that he’s memorized over the course of managing such a large company, but as you sit there with your legs on full display he can’t think straight. He stutters throughout the entire presentation and at one point completely zones out with thoughts of you bent over the desk, pushed up against the wall, or even squirming in your seat.

“Sir?” you ask timidly, he’s been quiet for a while and is just staring down at you. His eyes pierce into you, lighting your skin on fire. The other men were looking around confused as to why the presentation stopped.

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts yet again and he coughs awkwardly for the second time. “Would you like me to get you a water?” you ask politely, standing from your seat. As you do this, your legs uncross and Matt catches a glimpse of your lacy underwear. His brain is on fire with thoughts of you.

He forces himself to look away with a clenched jaw as you quickly adjust your skirt. “Yes that would be nice. Thank you, Y/n,” he finally manages to say. You nod your head and excuse yourself from the group of men briefly.

All of the men allow their eyes to wander on your body, taking you in like a tall drink of water. They were all silently wishing they had a secretary like you.

“Pretty girl you got there,” one man comments as he leans forward in his seat to watch you walk down the hall. The skirt ended right above the edge of your ass, lifting slightly with each sway of your hips.

Matt sends him a warning glare before returning back to the presentation.

—

“Don’t forget to book the flights for the company trip. You and I will be leaving two days early to make sure everything is in order. Make sure you account for that, okay?” Matt says as he rapidly walks from the conference room to your shared office. You walk behind him, holding your skirt down with your left hand as your right arm is holding the papers from the previous meeting. Matt needed to walk in front of you or he’d be staring at your ass and legs, unable to concentrate on anything else.

“Are you catching all of this?” He asks, waving his hand in the air to catch your attention.

“Yes sir, I’m just um- I’m struggling with these papers,” you admit, adjusting the stack of papers again so they won’t fall to the floor. He stop his rapid walking and looks back at you, feeling bad for leaving you with the brunt of the work all the time. If he was honest, he was very harsh with you and would often overwork you, but it was because he always found himself staring and admiring at you. If he wasn’t so harsh with you then he’d certainly cross the line of professionalism in your relationship and entire uncharted territory.

Matt takes the stack of papers from you, mumbling a small sorry as he does it. He’s careful not to graze your skin, knowing that your simple touch would send him into a frenzy. He couldn’t trust himself yet, especially not with the skirt you’re wearing. He needs an excuse to get as far away from you as possible right now.

“You can go to lunch.”

“Are you sure? It’s only 11 and I still have to book the fli-”

“Yes. Bring me a sandwich from the deli I like. You can finish that later.”

You’re confused, he never sends you to lunch this early, especially not after business meetings. He’d usually have you type up a report or schedule the next meeting, sometimes he’d even assign you busy work like reorganizing the files or shredding letters. You don’t question it though, you knew better than that. Instead you send him a nod and head out to grab lunch.

As soon as you’re gone he’s relieved, he makes his way into the office, dumping the stack of papers on your desk before slumping down on his chair. He sighs, it’s a sigh of relief, but also of frustration. Everytime he closes his eyes his mind is overtaken with thoughts of you.

The thought of you sitting so close to him everyday, those lacy underwear mere inches from him. Your legs on full display for him, ready to be spread open at any moment. That tiny skirt riding up every time you took a singular step. Even your hands as they expertly typed away on your computer. The thought of you was driving him crazy, he doesn’t know how he survives entire workdays with you so close. If he could have it his way, you would’ve been bent over your desk the second you arrived late to work, for the simple fact that you arrived late. Then he would’ve eaten you out until you were begging him to stop as punishment for wearing a skirt so short. But he’s your boss and he needs to control himself and his thoughts.

His eyes are squeezed shut and his jaw clenched as he tried to think of anything other than you, but no matter how hard he tried his mind always came back to you. His dick twitches at the thought of you pressed up against the wall, your skirt halfway up your abdomen as he fucks into you relentlessly. He thinks about how he’d pick you up and guide you towards his chair where he’d let you do all the work, bouncing up and down on him for hours. Your hair would fall onto your face and he’d have to push it back, creating a make-shift ponytail to use as leverage to fuck into you harder.

His hand starts subconsciously wandering onto his hard, clothed dick at the thought. No one is here to watch him, the door is closed and you’re off on your lunch break, if he’s quick enough he can get in a quick, satisfying release. The idea floats around his head as he imagines you on your knees, face covered in his cum. Your lips would wrap perfectly around him, just like they wrapped around the straws he’s watched you drink from. Then he’d lay you on the desk on top of all the paperwork as he fucked you until the desk broke.

One time won’t hurt, right?

Briefly he looks around the room, making sure no one walks in as he begins unbuckling his pants. This is the first and only time he’s allowing himself to go this far at the thought of you. An adrenaline rush surges through him as he pulls his zipper down, becoming anxious to touch himself. His dick is twitching, precum leaking out as if it’s crying and begging to be set free.

As he’s about to let his throbbing penis free of its constraints, the door opens abruptly, causing him to look up in shock and immediately scoot himself closer into the desk. He tries his best to hide himself under the desk, using the ledge to serve as a shield.

You walk in with a big, kind smile, a bag of food in one hand and two drinks in the other. “Here’s your sandwich, Mr. Sturniolo,” you say, as you place the bag and one of the drinks onto his desk. “They didn’t have the soda you like so I brought this instead, I hope that’s okay. If not I brought another option,” you ramble on, plopping an alternate drink on the table.

His face is red hot and he won’t meet your gaze, “That’s fine, y/n. Thank you.”

“If you don’t like it I can get something else, I just didn’t know which one you’d like-”

“Y/n. You can go,” he interrupts you sternly, embarrassed that he was almost caught. You stand in silence, taking the hint that your boss wanted to be alone. You grab the paperwork from earlier and a pen before dismissing yourself quickly, deciding to work through the rest of your lunch break in the break room.

When you’re gone, Matt lets out another sigh of relief before looking down at his pants. They’re unbuckled, exposing the hem of his underwear. He quickly readjusts himself before looking at the bag of food.

He wasn’t even hungry anymore. All he could think about was you.

—

You’re currently preparing to board the plane for the long awaited company-wide business trip. The trip is to a resort where other major magazine companies will be hosting a week long conference. You and Matt are leaving two days early to ensure that everything is in order. This means that it’s your responsibility to make sure that all the company presentations, spreadsheets, paperwork, informational brochures, documents, and other records are in order. The thought of it stresses you out, you can’t even begin to imagine what Matt would do if even a single thing went wrong.

Even if you’d have some time to yourself in the resort, the thought of actually working made you dread the trip. But you put on your best performance as you walk behind Matt in the large airport in search of your boarding gate. Your suitcase is heavy, filled with all your personal necessities, some casual clothes, and a plethora of work clothes.

“Mr. Sturniolo? I think you might be heading the wrong way. I wanna say that the boarding gate is over here,” you speak shyly, afraid to overstep when speaking with your boss.

“Matt.” he replies, he hates that you call him ‘Mr. Sturniolo,’ it was a constant reminder that he was your superior, your boss. A reminder that you’d never be able to be his unless he fired you or risked a workplace scandal. “I’m sorry?” you ask, unsure of what he meant by that. You knew his name was Matthew, but you’d never called him anything but his last name.

“Please just call me Matt,” he reiterates. After years of working by your side, he’s determined to finally make an impression on you that doesn’t scream ‘I’m your boss!’ You hum in response, finally realizing that he wants you to refer to him by his first name. The thought of being on first name basis with your boss was a little weird, but it humanized him a bit and made him seem less intimidating.

“Okay. Well, Matt I think you’re heading towards the wrong gate.”

He looks around the airport, then down again at his ticket, realizing that he is in fact heading the wrong way. “You’d be right, Y/n,” he replies with a playful grin.

He’s dressed very casually, it’s an outfit that you’d be able to wear to a grocery store, but still lounge around your house in. The look contrasted his everyday attire drastically, he almost looked… normal? He didn’t look like a man who manages one of the largest magazine companies in the world, a man who drives a sports car, a man who has a secretary ready to do what he says when he says it. No, he looks like a man who walks his dog in the afternoon, a man who reads books before going to bed, a man who washes the dishes after every meal. He just looked normal and that made him easier to talk to.

The two of you begin walking to your designated gate, Matt trails behind you and takes in your attire too. You’re wearing a pair of leggings, a fitted top, sneakers, and a cropped sweater. You look great, but the change of style opens his imagination to the thought of you being fucked in a domestic setting. He could imagine you on the couch, by the sink, or even in the shower. He hated how easily his mind wandered into sexual territory, but he loved thinking about it.

You two board the plane quickly. You take the window seat, letting Matt situate himself in the aisle seat. The flight isn’t too long, but you’ve prepared yourself with some activities in case you become bored or restless.

Throughout the entire flight Matt is still thinking about you. All he can do is hope you don’t look down at his lap and see how excited he truly is. Fortunately for him, you’re deeply immersed in a game of sudoku. You’re biting the end of your pen in concentration, your eyes wandering across the page as you try and figure the puzzle out. He wishes you were biting across his skin, or that your lips were occupied with something else…

He takes a look at your lips, then at the page in front of you, “6 goes here.” His finger points to a specific square on the puzzle, breaking you from your concentration. You pause your chewing, processing the information Matt just said. You write in the 6, that singular move solving the entire puzzle for you as you quickly fill in the rest of the boxes.

A big smile is planted on your face, “wanna try?” You extend the book and pen out for him. He doesn’t have anything else to do, so he shrugs and takes the items from you, “sure.” In the process his hands graze against yours, goosebumps raising along his arms immediately. “Okay, well while you do that I’m gonna go to the restroom,” you comment, getting up from your seat so you can head to the back of the airplane.

You shuffle out of your seat, pressing your stomach to the seat in front of you as you try to wiggle out onto the aisle. Your butt briefly grazes Matt’s knee, your thigh touching his inner leg as you weave your way through his legs. “Sorry,” you whisper to him, finally making your way into the aisle. He wishes he could grab a hold of your hips, rip off your leggings, and pull you down onto his lap then and there. Even with all these people occupying the rest of the airplane, he’d fuck you so hard you’d forget how to walk.

His eyes do a once over on your whole body as you walk down the aisle, your tight leggings leaving little to the imagination. A small groan escapes his lips, if this is how he was feeling during the flight how was he going to survive the entire trip?

Matt shakes his head, beating himself up for being such a pervert. He stares down at the sudoku puzzle in front of him, suddenly forgetting all the rules.

—

The resort is huge, much bigger than the resort used for last year’s conference. Every year a different company hosts the conference, this year your company’s top rival was hosting. They were known to show off and pamper their guests, which would explain the grandious size of the resort.

You and Matt walk up to the front desk with your suitcases trailing behind you, ready to check in. The clerk at the front desk offers you both a warm smile as he asks for the name of the reservation.

“Matthew Sturniolo, we’re here for a weeklong event,” Matt replies, taking his ID out for further proof of identification. As you admire the luxurious look of the lobby the clerk looks for the reservation on the computer. When he finds it he immediately pulls out his rehearsed speech before handing Matt a singular key card, “Awesome! Looks like you two will be in a master suite on the top floor. Here’s the keycard, if you have any questions feel free to use your room phone to ring the front desk. We do offer room service which can also be accessed through the room phone. Enjoy your stay!”

Matt waits for another key card, because there should be two rooms, but the clerk becomes preoccupied with the computer once again. “I’m sorry. I reserved two rooms,” he says politely, trying not to lose his temper. If there was one thing he hated it was incompetent workers, and if this worker wasn’t so incompetent he would’ve known that Matt had two rooms. The clerk looks up from the computer briefly before checking again on the reservation status, “Right! Well it looks like the rooms you previously booked were given to two other guests. A lot of people will be visiting us for this conference so they had to move a couple of people around to make room for everyone. That’s why you’ll be sharing a room now.”

You watch as the situation unfolds, ready to step in if Matt became too abrasive. As a secretary, you were used to dealing with mistakes like this and have become an expert at deescalating situations, especially with Matt as your boss. He has a tendency to lose his temper or make snarky remarks and then leave you to deal with the aftermath.

Matt’s about to lose his temper and the clerk can tell so he quickly interjects again, “Don’t worry, sir. The room is very large and is equipped with a Queen sized bed. If you have any issues, we will work with you.”

Matt’s about to say something he shouldn’t, but is stopped by your gentle hand on his shoulder as you speak, “Thank you! We will call if there are any issues.” You grab the key card from the desk and pull Matt away and towards the elevator as you offer the clerk an apologetic smile.

He’s tense at your touch, because it elicits something feral in him, but also because he’s still on edge from the previous conversation. “I’m sure the room is big enough,” you comment once you two are inside the elevator. You can tell he’s bothered, his jaw is clenched and his fists are balled up so tight it causes his arms to flex. Even though he’s clearly angry, he looks extremely handsome right now. If he wasn’t your boss you’d even go as far as to say he looked hot.

“Doesn’t matter. I reserved two rooms, we should’ve gotten two rooms.”

“Yeah, but we’ll make it work,” you say with a smile, trying to remain positive.

“That’s not the point,” he grumbles. The elevator dings with each floor, and each ding reminds him that he’s closer to having to share a room with you for an entire week. If he wasn’t able to contain himself at the office, or even on the airplane, how was he ever meant to survive an entire week with you?

The elevator dings one last time as you reach the top floor, the doors opening slowly to reveal a long hallway. You exit the elevator, Matt following suit behind you as you read the keycard. The keycard reads room #505, it’s all the way at the end of the hall, perfectly secluded in a corner.

This only sends Matt’s imagination more wild, he didn’t know how he was going to keep his hands off of you for an entire week.

—

After getting settled, Matt informs you that there’s a brief introductory meeting that you need to attend. He tells you to dress up professionally because a lot of important people were going to be there and to be prepared to take notes. You know this is a business trip, but a part of you was hoping to relax the first night. With Matt as your boss, you should’ve known better.

The living situation wasn’t that bad, the room was very large, complete with a queen size bed, two closets, and a restroom that had a his and hers sink. Before doing anything else you two got situated, Matt insisted on sleeping on the floor, but after further deliberation you insisted he join you in the bed. You were adults after all, it didn’t have to be weird. He protested at first, but the thought of sleeping in the same bed as you was exciting.

After that, you decided to take a shower. You needed to wash off the jet lag from the flight. While you were in the shower Matt’s brain was going wild with thoughts of you. The water slowly running down your body, being able to see your silhouette through the foggy glass, pressing you up against the glass as he fucked you from behind. He was itching to get up from the bed, barge into the restroom and finally make you his. But he had to remind himself that this was a purely professional trip, that you were only in the same room due to circumstance.

You’re currently lining your lips, adding all the finishing touches to your makeup. You decided on a black dress, it was simple and classy, but still fun. Your hair was perfectly styled to show off a silver necklace and matching earrings, they were actually a gift from Matt. He gave them to you one Christmas, mumbling something about how they were from the company, but in reality he chose them himself specifically for you.

Matt’s been dressed for a while now, waiting for you to get out of the restroom so he can make any last adjustments to his outfit. You’re taking forever though and he still needs to put on is his tie, so he decides to walk into the restroom and use the mirror adjacent to yours.

As soon as he walks into the restroom his eyes are all over you, admiring everything about your face, body, and outfit. He notices you’re wearing the jewelry he gifted you and he makes a mental note to gift you another set.

“You look nice,” he comments nonchalantly, his fingers working expertly to tie his tie around his neck. You smile at him through the mirror, popping on a thick layer of lipgloss before returning the sentiment, “you clean up nice yourself.” Matt sends you a smile of his own, flattening the tie against his button up shirt. His outfit matched yours, it was all black from head to toe. It was a nice coincidence that made you two look almost like a couple.

You reach out your hands to fix his collar, it was popping out slightly. “Lemme fix this,” you whisper, your fingertips grazed against his neck. His breath hitches in his throat as he tried not to look down, he had the perfect view of your chest from where he was standing. He’s in the perfect position to pick you up and fuck you on the bathroom counter. If he wanted to he could smudge your lipstick, and fuck you so hard you cry, ruining your makeup.

“Thanks,” he whispers back, placing his hands on your hips to move you away from the mirror. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, he’s never touched you like that before. Matt tries to focus his attention on his reflection, ignoring his once again growing erection.

You look him up and down, noticing the tent in his pants for the first time. He looks so sexy right now that you want to get on your knees and worship him, servicing his cock until it has nothing left to offer. Then you’d let him pleasure you as you sit on the countertop, his head between your thighs.

You shock yourself with your dirty thoughts, turning abruptly towards the mirror as you try ignoring the sexual tension.

—

The meeting was more of a cocktail party, it was the perfect setting to get to know everyone before the real work started. Most of the people here were men in power, followed around by their assistants, secretaries, and interns. There wasn’t much for you to do but follow Matt around as he introduced you to a few of his colleagues. You remembered most of them from previous business trips, but still did your rounds around the event.

After getting comfortable and introducing you to everyone, the drinks started. You dismissed yourself and wandered off to find a drink for yourself. Matt wasn’t a big drinker, especially not at events like this, but he let himself fall victim to peer pressure. He found himself drinking scotch, whiskey, and vodka with a group of extremely powerful and wealthy men. They were hooting and hollering, engaging in conversation about all the females in their field that they’d fucked. Matt didn’t have any stories to share on the subject, so after a while he bid the men goodbye to look for you.

He was kind of drunk at this point, stumbling slightly as he searched for you. You were at the bar drinking a martini while talking to a man. He, much like you, was an assistant to a very powerful man. The conversation between you two was casual and innocent, but as Matt watched he couldn’t help but feel jealous.

“Does your boss drag you along to boring events like this too?” the man asked, taking a sip of his own drink. You weren’t drunk, but you were getting there. You take a sip of your drink and look around the room, catching a glimpse of Matt in a far corner. He looked upset and drunk. “Mmm yeah, but the job is easy so I don’t complain,” you reply, your eyes trained on Matt’s approaching figure. His nostrils were flared, jaw clenched, and the fabric of his shirt strained against his flexed arms.

“Umm that’s actually my boss there. I better go,” you say, hopping off the barstool. Your dress rides up slightly, exposing more of your thigh than necessary. The man watches as you walk towards Matt without a word, before turning to the bartender and asking for another drink.

“Are you drunk?” You immediately ask Matt once you meet. He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your arm and looping it around his. This is his attempt at leaving the event while looking put together and professional. He dismisses himself from the few colleagues you run into on the way out as he leads you towards the elevator. You play along, but once the elevator doors close you pull your arm away.

“What was that about?”

“Didn’t like the way that guy was looking at you,” Matt replies in a gruff tone. He presses the button to your floor aggressively. “Okay, but why did we have to leave?” you’re feeling feisty, the martinis giving you the daring push you needed to express yourself.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving, I was just looking for you. But when I saw how that guy was looking at you, I decided it’d be better for us to go back to our room.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, crossing your arms, causing your boobs to pop out slightly from your dress. You didn’t need a protector, especially not when the man you were talking to was just being nice. Matt looks at you when you scoff, groaning at the sight of your boobs spilling out of your dress. “Don’t do that,” he instructs drunkenly, pointing towards your arms. You look down at your chest, noticing how exposed you are, but you’re too drunk to care.

“Don’t do this?” you tease, pushing your chest out further. Matt inches closer to you, his face dangerously close to yours. “Stop” he whispers sternly, allowing his arms to rest on your hips as his nose grazes yours. “Or what?” you’re taunting him at this point, trying to see how far he’d go with you. But you’re drunk and so is he, if you two were sober you’d never be this bold.

The elevator rings, signaling that you’ve reached your floor. The sudden sound is sobering, it pulls you both from your trance, causing you to pull away immediately.

The walk to your room is awkward, the sexual tension lingering as you adjust your dress. Were you really about to kiss your boss? You try convincing yourself that that only happened because of the alcohol, you’re too inebriated to act against your natural, feral instincts. You fumble for the keycard in your purse, opening the door nervously before walking in. How were you supposed to sleep next to Matt after that?

“I’ll sleep on the floor, Mr. Sturniolo,” you comment quickly as you sit on the edge of the bed, unstrapping your heels. The use of his last name catches his off guard, “I thought I told you to call me Matt.” You didn’t even realize you reverted back to using his last name, but there must be something telling you to remain professional. For the sake of this trip and for your job.

He’s standing over you, looking down at you with an intimidating look. You look up at him, leaning back into the bed slightly to get a better look at him, “Right. Sorry, Matt.” Whatever awkwardness you felt was quickly dissipating as the wetness between your legs grew. He used his knee to separate your legs, standing in between them as he took ahold of your face.

Matt leans down closer to you, his lips inches from yours as he says, “Make it up to me.” Without another word, he takes your lips in his. It’s a slow and sensual kiss, and your arms fold so that you’re now resting on your elbows. Matt’s now on top of you, his body fitting against yourself perfectly.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” he whispers against your lips, holding himself up with one hand as he allows the other to trace from your face to your chest. He’s admiring everything about you, his fingers toying with the silver necklace around your neck. You’re watching him in awe, you’ve never known a man as sexy as him.

“Matt-“

“Shhh, pretty girl. You can moan my name all night long, but first I need you to do me a favor,” he says, pushing himself off the bed, you prop yourself up eagerly in the process. You watch as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his pants swiftly, pulling them down to reveal his underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight, his dick struggling against the cloth. You know exactly what he wants and you’re ready to comply.

“Open up, pretty girl,” he instructs, whipping his cock out and pumping himself briefly. You do as you’re told, kneeling between him and the bed as you open your mouth for him. His dick is big, but you’re so hungry for him that you don’t question how it’ll all fit.

Matt lets you take control from here, moving his hands to the sides of your face to caress a few strands of hair out of your face. He watches as you take his cock into your hand, pumping it slowly as you kiss from the base all the way to the tip. A groan escapes his lips when you finally wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around the slit in the process.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, moving his hips closer to you as he pushes himself into your mouth fully. Matt thrusts into your face slowly, using his hand to keep your head in place. Your eyes begin to water, small gag noises following each time he hits the back of your throat. “So good,” he moans, throwing his head back in pleasure as you hollow your cheeks around his cock.

He fucks your face faster, causing tears to brim at your waterline. You look so beautiful under him, taking him without a complaint. This is better than everything he’s imagined, you look so innocent under him with tour hands on your knees, pushing your boobs out for him. The sight alone is enough to make him cum, he pulls out of your mouth completely letting you catch your breath as he feverishly strokes himself.

You don’t miss a beat, moving your face closer to him so you can kiss the base of his cock and suck his balls as he continues stroking himself. He groans at your eagerness to please, pushing your face back and instructing you to open your mouth again. You do as your told, Matt laying his heavy dick in your mouth as his cum decorates your tongue. His moans fill the room as he praises you for taking him so well.

You take him in your mouth again, swallowing the cum in the process, bobbing your head up and down his cock a few times. You kiss his tip, a small whimper coming from Matt. You’re drenched at this point, the only thing you can think about is his dick inside you, your spongy walls clenching around him.

He watches attentively as you stand up seductively from your spot on the floor, your knees are red and your makeup is ruined. You look so sexy, he’s ready to go again. You kiss him, moaning into his mouth as one of his arms wraps around your waist and the other massages the skin right under the hem of your dress.

“Fuck me, please,” you whisper into the kiss. You asked so nicely that it makes his dick twitch.

He doesn’t have to be told twice, instead he guides your make-out session to the restroom where he turns you around so your ass is flush against him. You moan as he pulls your dress down, accidentally tearing the straps in the process to free your boobs. He’s watching you from the mirror, taking in how your boobs bounce with every movement.

Matt’s fingers trace along your chest, slowly reaching your nipples. He pinches your nipples between his cold fingers, eliciting another moan from you. “So beautiful,” he mumbles, trailing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. Your hands hold you up against the counter and your head is thrown back in pleasure, resting against his shoulder as you await his neck move.

One of his hands cups your breast as the other works towards moving your lace underwear to the side. He groans at the feeling of your wet folds against his fingers, you were all worked up and it was just for him. “So wet. Is this all for me?” he asks, locking eyes with you in the mirror. You bite your lip, nodding your head feverishly. All you want is for him to fuck you already.

“Use your words, baby.”

“It’s all for you Matt.”

He seems satisfied with your response because he finally lines himself up with your entrance, letting his tip sit there for a while before fully pushing himself in. You are immediately sent to a state of euphoria at the feeling of him inside of you, breathless pants and moans escaping your lips. Matt moans out your name as every fantasy he’s had about you flashes through his mind, none of them comparing to the sight in front of him right now.

One of his arms is wrapped around your waist while the other snakes around your chest so he can hold one of your boobs. Your head is thrown onto his shoulder as you try to anchor yourself to the counter with your hands. His hips snap back and forth as he pumps in and out of you, causing your body to rock against the counter top.

“You feel so good,” he moans, holding you tighter against him. You’re clenching around him, one of your hands reaching behind you to grab his neck. You turn your face towards him and capture his lips in a heated kiss as he continues fucking into you, his fingers pinching your nipples and massages your breast. You’re moaning his name into his mouth, a string of curse words following as you feel your climax approaching.

He picks up on your queues and doesn’t slow down, kissing you harder as he pushes you past your breaking point. Matt feels you clench around him one last time, a loud, high pitched moan following as you come undone on his cock. He pulls away from the kiss so he can see your fucked out expression through the mirror. You look so sexy, taking him entirely like a good, obedient girl.

He grins at the sight in front of him, pecking your shoulder before grabbing a fistful of your hair and fucking you harder than before. His orgasm is close, and he’s chasing it faster and faster with each thrust. One hand is gripping your hair as the other rests on the small of your back, he watches as your ass jiggles against him with each thrust. You’re whimpering at this point, still very sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“So perfect,” he mumbles. The room is filled with the sound of your whimpers, Matt’s groans, and your skin slapping against each other as he drops his warm, sticky load inside of you. This time it’s your turn to watch him from the mirror, his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is slack as his hips stutter inside of you, breathy moans tickling your back.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips into you one last time before pulling out of you completely.

Matt’s grip around you is still firm, holding you up so you can balance yourself properly. The two of you catch your breath before you turn to face him, a fucked out look on your face as you smile at him. He smiles too, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a genuine kiss. Not a ‘let’s fuck again kiss,’ but a genuine kiss.

“How am I supposed to work with you after that?” you joke, placing your arms on his chest.

“You’ll manage,” he says with a smirk, pecking your lips again.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Happy Valentine’s Day enjoy this boss Matt story😋Kk byeeeeee

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

[avianyuh]

Boring | Min Yoongi

Summary: For almost a year, you've worked for Min Yoongi's company. He gave off the impression of a cold businessman. No one ever saw him smile, laugh or discuss anything other than work. Everyone seemed to think he was a boring guy, who was too consumed with work. You'd assumed there was more to him, and often fantasized about him, but as far as you knew, he wasn't even aware of your existence. You didn't think he noticed you at all in meetings, or when he walked past your cublicle, but maybe you just weren't paying enough attention?

Word Count: 2.9k

chapters [1] ?

The worst thing about meetings is when they are scheduled at inconvenient times of the day. Like this you were currently sitting in. It was 3pm on the dot, on a Wednesday. Two more days left in the work week until you could sleep in until 11am. Two more dreary days of fake smiling at all of the coworkers you secretly couldn’t stand. Two more pathetic days of hearing the mindless office chit chat that you tried so hard to tune out. But one thing you would actually miss as you’d lay in bed until noon on Saturday was the sight standing right in front of you, giving the most boring presentation. Min Yoongi. Your boss, your superior, and your secret crush. Yes, it sounds like grade school to say you had a secret crush on him, but it’s the truth. You hadn’t mentioned it to your friends and definitely not the two women you were friendly acquaintances with at the office. It was an innocent infatuation. You couldn’t help yourself. He looked so attractive when he was dressed in his office attire. You had never seen a man look as good in a suit as Min Yoongi did. And when you happened to catch him adjusting his tie or recuffing his sleeves, it sort of sent you ‘over the edge’ and would become the highlight of the day. You loved to stare at him when he walked down the aisle past your cubicle. You held your breath if you were standing next to him in the elevator on the way up or down. And you fantasized about him while you sat through his boring presentations. You couldn’t fathom why a man so attractive could be perceived as so monotone and frankly, boring. You would see him walk around the office and interact with the other employees, but he always kept a straight face. Even when some of his clients would try to crack some jokes with him…nothing. You wondered why he kept so many walls up, well if that was even the case. Maybe he wasn’t guarded, maybe there simply wasn’t anything interesting about him? And that’s why you were more than okay with keeping your little crush a fantasy. You knew that you would probably be incompatible considering he seemed to have no soul. And honestly, you did like to tell a few jokes. You looked up from your notepad and stared at him, just as everyone else in the room was doing. Though you were basically invisible at this company, you still had to pretend like you were paying attention every once in a while.

“By tomorrow morning I need that file on my desk. It’s crucial that everything’s done and ready to go for the Smith account. Who was in charge of that?”, as the twelve other people in the room all turned their heads to look at me, I suddenly felt nauseous as my stomach started to twist into knots. As I darted my eyes from my coworkers, they landed on Yoongi, who was staring at me expectantly, waiting for his file. I cleared my throat and shuffled through my papers, pulling the manilla file out from under my notepad. I stood up from my chair as I walked over to him. His eyes followed me the whole time.

“Here it is Mr. Min.”, I said as I handed him the file. Your fingers briefly touched and you noticed just how calloused they were. You wondered why that was. He nodded at you and murmured a short Thank You, before he moved on to the next subject and you scurried back to your seat. By the time the meeting was over, I was back at my desk and watching the clock. 4:30. Only a half an hour left. You had finished all of your assignments and was just fiddling with the pencil in your hand when your office phone started ringing. “Hello?”, you answered, annoyed and wondering what could possibly be so important to warrant a call 30 minutes before you could leave.

“Mr. Min would like to see you in his office.”, the woman said before hanging up immediately. Shit, I thought. What could I have possibly done? He’s never wanted to see me in his office except for that one time when he gave a speech to everyone after we secured that big client. You had remembered to take note of his office since at the time you assumed it would be the only time you’d see it. He had photos lining his desk. Him at different sports games. Mainly basketball games. Pictures of him posing next to players, a picture of him on a boat, and a picture of a family. It looked like an older photo, so you assumed it was a childhood photo of his. But that’s all you could remember at the time since that night you had been knocking back quite a few drinks with your colleagues in celebration of the pay raise. But now here you were, approaching his secretary’s desk. “Y/N? Let me notify him before I send you in.”, His secretary looked down at the phone before pressing the button to ring him. “Mr.Min…yes, she’s here. Okay, I’ll send her in.”, She glanced back up at you, “You can go in.”, she said blankly before staring back at her computer screen, you gave her a quick nod as you walked past her desk. You could hear the frantic sound of her typing on her keyboard. You knocked on the door once before peaking your head in.

“Mr.Min? You wanted to see me.”, your voice was timid. Mainly due to the fact you were wrecked with nerves on the inside. You had been raking your brain on the walk down to his office on why you’d been called in. Maybe you were getting fired? But, on the same day you have that interaction with him during the meeting? It was the first time you had properly spoken to him.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Please close the door behind you and take a seat.”, there it was again, that emotionless, monotone voice. It made it one hundred times harder for you to gauge what this conversation would be about. Was he angry? Was he calm? You had no idea. His face was stone cold. You really never saw him smile. And not to mention, his office was so dark, the blinds were almost completely drawn shut and now the door was closed. You found it concerning that he wanted the door closed. Last time someone went into his office and closed the door, they were walking out an hour later with two boxes filled with their belongings. You started to fidget with your fingers as you took a seat. You took a deep breath in as you watched him pull his hands out of his pockets and move from his standing position against his window and take a seat in his own chair across from you. “First of all”, he started, “You don’t have to worry, you’re not being fired, so you don’t have to play with your fingers.”, Immediately you placed your hands at your sides.

“Oh, um, didn’t realize anybody would pick up on that habit…”, you said, shocked at how observant he seemed to be.

“Well, I’ve seen you around the office and in my meetings for almost a year, and you do it at least one meeting per week.”, he shrugged before looking down at his desk and opening one of his filing cabinet drawers underneath. He pulled out a folder, specifically the manilla folder you had just given him during the meeting. He handed it over to you, and you furrowed your brows in response as you took it. “I skimmed through it, everything seemed fine. Problem is, I just got a call from Smith himself, and it turns out, his assistant faxed over all the wrong information. He’s still coming in tomorrow and expects the folder to be ready to go.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you assumed he was about to ask you to stay late and re-do everything, just because someone else made a mistake? Unbelievable. Before he could continue speaking, you intervened, “So what? Now I have to re-do everything? Do you understand that all that work in this folder took me a whole week. Rome wasn’t built in a day Sir.”, you snapped. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, seemingly challenging your opposition.

“So you’re telling me that you refuse to do it? I understand it’s asking a lot, but you would be paid for any overtime. I can’t force you but if you don’t stay, don’t expect any big projects in the near future. Maybe Jerry at the cubicle across from you would like your next project?” You narrowed your eyes at him in a silent attempt to say, screw you.

“Sir, all I’m saying is that I sort of feel like this was sprung on me a half an hour before work ends, and you’re telling me I have to do a week's worth of work on my own in one night. I just don’t see how that’s fair.”, you explained, trying to keep your voice from getting too loud. One wrong move or word and he could fire you on the spot for 'disrespect'.

“So you’re concerned about working alone? Fine, I’ll stay and work on it with you.” Yoongi said as he looked down at his wristwatch, most likely mentally rearranging his afterwork schedule.

“Seriously?”, you asked, surprised that he would even offer to stay and work on the file with you at all. He looked back up at you, nodding his head, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, get your computer, you can set it up in here. We have a lot to get through.” And boy, was he right. The next thing you knew, you were two hours deep into paperwork, calling as many people as you could reach to fact check considering the fact most people had left their offices for the day. By 7pm, you were getting a little irritated as you weren’t making much progress with the file. And not to mention the fact that you were getting hungry. You ran a hand through your hair as you let out a frustrated sigh, throwing down your pen on your notepad. Yoongi looked up from his computer screen, his head resting on his hand, and he had his left arm resting on his desk. You could tell that even he was getting frustrated, and that in turn made you angry. And before you could stop yourself, you exploded.

“So, how exactly do you do business around here? You’re telling me that the whole week there was no communication with the other party until half an hour before closing today, the day before they were expected to come in for a meeting?”, he rolled his eyes at you as covered his face with his hand in frustration.

“You think I did this on purpose? You don’t think I also want to go home?” , he snapped. Now you were rolling your eyes at him, you felt like this whole file was never going to get done and your efforts were pointless.

“Can we at least order some food?”, you murmured. To that, you actually heard him let out a chortle as he reached into his drawer for a few takeout menus. It wasn’t necessarily a full on laugh, but it let you know that he did have a sense of humor. You couldn’t hide your surprise and Yoongi seemed to notice.

“What? Are you surprised that I eat food…”, he questioned as he handed you the menus, “Pick one, I don’t really have a preference. They’re all good.”, you grabbed them, again briefly brushing your fingers against his own like earlier in the meeting room. You decided on Chinese and another half hour later, after Yoongi went to collect the food from the delivery man, you were both sitting on the couch in his office, just silently eating. At first you assumed it’d be awkward, just sitting there, but it was actually kind of nice since it gave you a chance to get your mind off of the file and your impending deadline. But then, Yoongi cleared his throat as he put down his food. “Can I ask you a question?” You were intrigued to see what his version of small talk was, so you immediately replied with a Hm. “Do you find me boring during the staff meetings?”, he let out a chuckle as he asked.

“What!”, you giggled. You were surprised at his question, you never assumed that he would ask something like that. “How would you be able to tell?”, you were surprised at his change in attitude. An hour ago, he was so frustrated and now he’s…trying to be funny? He smiled at you before he started explaining.

“Everytime I look over at you, you’re either playing with your pen, or doing that finger fidget thing. I mean, I get it, it’s boring material we’re going over, but c’mon, everything I talk about is boring?”, he asked, still smiling which signaled to you that this was all just lighthearted banter.

“Well, I mean, you have to admit, spreadsheets and deadlines aren't the most interesting stuff to discuss after the first 10 minutes of the meeting. I just think the meetings don’t have to be over an hour each, that’s all.”, you threw your hands up defensively, returning his smile. He shook his head playfully.

“You do great work here, but every time I walk past your cubicle, you have the most miserable look on your face. “, he smirked, replaying the times he’s walk past your cubicle in his head.

“That is not true!”, you responded back teasingly, “I put in 100% But, it’s not my fault that I have resting bitch face…Also I highly doubt every time you’ve walked past my cubicle I look like that.” He raised his eyebrow, still smirking.

“Yeah, you’re right. The other half of the time I see you, you're always staring at me.” Upon hearing that, you covered your face with your hands and Yoongi started laughing at your reaction.

“Stop”, you pleaded, fully embarrassed now. You had no idea he caught on to that, you always thought you were being discreet. But to be fair, you had no idea he knew you even existed. He never seemed to concern himself with you until today. You had even interviewed with him when you got the job, it was with a supervisor. “I had no idea you even knew of me. I just assumed I was another faceless office worker or something. I mean, you’re always so busy and you keep to yourself…”, you tried to cover your tracks, but you were doing a really bad job of it. “That’s not true at all”, Yoongi said, giving his tone a serious edge. If I saw any of the people I employ out on the street, I would recognize them.” “But would you go up and talk to them?”, you questioned, bringing back your teasing tone. When he didn’t respond, you laughed and he let out a dramatic sigh. “What, are you shy or something?”, you asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’m shy, but I’m a bit quiet, but I think you already know that. I guess you could call me an introvert.”, Yoongi said sincerely. You nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I’m the same way. I prefer my alone time. No wonder we were so bothered at having to stay so late.”, you joked. Yoongi agreed with you as picked the remainder of his food. You looked down at your container and did the same for a few minutes, assuming you were almost done with your conversation. At least now you felt more comfortable around him. And it was reassuring to know that he did in fact have a personality. A sort of perplexing one at that. Before you had the chance to stand up to throw away your containers, he started speaking again.

“You know, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while Y/N. I just never had a reason to talk to you, but I’ll admit, when Smith called, despite how pissed I was about the mix up, when I saw your name on the file, I was looking forward to this.” And with that, those familiar nervous knots in your stomach returned. You really wanted to tell him that you had also been interested in him, that you also despite your frustration, working with him all night had softened the blow of missing your after work routine for once. But you decided to play it safe, after all, he is your boss.

“Well, I don’t regret staying to work on this with you.”, you responded back. Your eyes met, and you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. No one made a sound, and you weren’t sure of what to do. You studied his features. He had the most kissable lips, but you knew that would be a bad decision. One that you’d probably regret. His eyes seemed sad, and you weren’t sure of why you got that impression. You wondered if it was something you had said, but now that you were thinking about it, you always thought his eyes seemed like that. He was a mystery to you, one that you never thought you’d get the chance to uncover, but now, the window was slightly ajar into the man that is Min Yoongi and now you were really curious.

[A/N: So I guess my way of supporting Yoongi through this stupid scooter fiasco is writing a fanfic…Anyways, this is loosely based on a fanfic from years ago I had read on tumblr that I always went back to reread, until last week I noticed the story along with the account was deleted and deactivated :( To make matters worse, the story had never been finished, so in a way I never got to read how the story ended. So to make my teenage self happy, I’m making my own CEO Yoongi fanfic because I have to let my inner Yoongi freak fly. I anticipate that this will be a series, but I’m writing this author’s note before I even started writing the actual story so, we’ll see.]

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 33

part 1 | part 32 | ao3

Chapter 8

cw: period-typical attitudes/language

"Steve," Robin hisses through the phone, and he can practically hear her nostrils flaring. "I have been trapped at Uncle Bobby and Aunt Deb's house for six. days." She drops her voice to a harsh whisper, the tone somehow even more disapproving at a lower volume. "HOW have you not kissed him yet??"

"It's not like I didn't try!" Steve throws his hands up; nearly knocks his broom to the floor. He's finally sweeping up the shards of glass in the living room, because he's tired of wearing shoes in his own house (and because at some point he's going to have to have the kids over whether he wants to or not. He's kind of surprised Erica hasn't shown up demanding to hang Christmas lights yet; that girl is aggressively festive.) "He was all 'ask me in the morning,' so I was gonna ask him in the morning! Not my fault it was Monday morning and his stupid uncle barged in yelling about how he was going to be late for school."

"You really shouldn't call him stupid," she interrupts, "that man is a saint."

"No, you’re right. Wayne's awesome."

It’s true. Wayne walked in on them that morning, like, fully spooning in their sleep — Eddie pressed all along Steve's back with an arm over his waist, their ankles intertwined — and rather than beat Steve's ass and ban him from their house like Steve expected him to, he just awkwardly grunted 'breakfast is ready' and shut the door.

"I'm always right," Robin gloats in his ear.

"You're always the worst."

"You love me." Steve hears shuffling as she adjusts the cord — probably wiggling around to lie on her stomach on the bed and kick her feet up in the air the way she likes — and then she says, "I'm still not seeing how this explains the other five whole days, though."

Jesus. Five whole days. Like she's his unimpressed boss and he’s late with the quarterly reports. "Our schedules kept not lining up! And then he went out of town with Jeff's family for the holiday."

"And you haven't called him?"

Steve glares flatly at the phone; hopes she can feel it through the line. "Literally how would I do that, Robin?"

"Well— I don't know! Maybe..." She hums in thought then snaps her fingers, talking fast. "Ooh! You could ask Wayne for the number? I mean, he'd have to know it in case he needed to reach Eddie, right?"

"Uh huh." Steve loves her solution-oriented brain, he really does, but that's one of the worst ideas he's heard in a while. (And he's including Mike and Dustin's attempted kidnapping last month.) "Yeah, let me get right on that," he snarks, switching the phone to his other ear. "I’ll just call them up and say, 'Hey, Mr. or Mrs. Jeff's Grandparents! This is Steve Harrington, may I—? Oh. Who's Steve Harrington, you ask? Nobody, sir or ma’am, just the kid who stood by and watched while his teammates gave your grandson a swirlie two years ago, so I'm sure he fucking hates me still for that! Anyway, can I please flirt with your house guest now?'"

Robin's whinnying into the receiver by the time Steve finishes his rant, and he begrudgingly laughs along with her, shaking his head as he stoops to pick up the dust pan.

"Okay," she concedes. "You may have a point."

"Thank you."

"But you still have to do something to make up for this when he gets home! Otherwise, he's going to think you're, like, having a straight boy crisis or something and get all weird."

"I'm not having a 'straight boy crisis,'" Steve rolls his eyes. He's having a bisexual boy crisis — at least, according to the three hour phone call he had with Robin the other night (which was humiliating, by the way; he never thought he'd be quietly crying tears of total confusion while saying the words 'I still likes boobies, though' out loud. Jesus Christ. Sexuality is embarrassing.) "And I already have a grand gesture in mind, anyway."

"Oh?" Robin perks up. "Do tell."

"I was thinking we could, like..." Hmm. It's sounding less grand when he goes to say it out loud. "Well, shit, I don't know. I thought we could go to one of his shows together when you get back, but now that sounds kind of lame?"

“No, that's good! That's perfect, actually. We can get a whole group together to go support him, then he'll see that you're not embarrassed to be seen around him with your friends."

"Wait, was that a concern?" Oh, god. He dumps more glass into the trash can; hisses when a little shard gets his fingertip; sucks the wound into his mouth. "Are you sure it’s not-? I mean, I want him to know I mean it in a romantic way, not just a friendly gesture."

"Well, yeah, obviously. But you can't just go by yourself; his bandmates hate you."

Oh, right. “Yeah.” That would be pretty awkward to loiter in a booth by himself all night while Jeff and Gareth and the other kid glare daggers at him. "Do you think you could get a group together? If I do it…"

"…We'll be hanging out with a group of dorky freshman all night?”

"Rude."

"Accurate."

"You know what? Tell Deb and Bobby they can keep you."

"Ah!" Robin gasps. "You would turn to stone like a troll in the sun without me, and you know it!"

Man, he misses her. "Yeah, I know it." He puts the broom back up on the hook. "When ya comin' home?"

"Soon, I hope. I swear to god if I have to hear Deb and Patty fight over the leftovers one more time—!" She cuts herself off with a strangled noise, and Steve laughs at her plight. "Anyway, yes. I'll ask some friends at school—"

"—Is one of those friends Vickie?"

“I can multi-task; shut up."

"I love you," he smiles.

"Love you, too, dingus.” Her voice dips soft and sincere for just a second; there and gone. “Hey, I have to go, Carrie wants the phone.”

“You have too many relatives.”

“Ugh, I know. Okay. Leaving for real now; can't wait to see you for Operation Woo Your Man!”

"Robin, no-!”

“Got to go byeeeee.”

“We’re not calling it that!” He holds the phone out with both hands so he can yell into the receiver. “Robin? Robin!"

The line's already dead.

—

part 34

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ succubus at the school of mythics ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous (at the end) ˚₊ ⊹

ft. scarle yonaguni, aia amare, maria marionette, aster arcadia, kyo kaneko, ren zotto (seperate) x f! reader — iluna, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ iluna members dating the new girl at the institute of mystics who happens to be a demon of lust┊2.8k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub scarle, aia, mari, aster, kyo, ren┊succubus reader (obviously), established relationship(s), high school setting but all characters are adults, ooc iluna probably, mentions of reader stealing life forces but dw she has the self-control of a loving partner not to go too far :) scarle - strap-ons, size kink, belly bulge kyo - slight fighting for dom, receiving oral, little hair pulling aia - risk of getting caught, fingering maria - sex toys, corruption kink aster - handjobs & blowjobs, overstimulation ren - heats/mating cycles, teasing & edging, horn stimulation, creampie

➤ author's note: it’s finally out of my drafts, oh my god. finally, a proper fic after thirsting so much for someone who hasn’t even debuted yet

the iluna institute of mythics tends to be hesitant when it comes to enrolling succubi and incubi into their ranks despite the strict policy not to discriminate based on species, that’s what the entire point of the campus was about! it’s not because they have anything against beings from hell, but they know that from the very moment the demon steps onto the site, everyone won’t be able to keep their eyes off them and chatting among themselves about how hot the new student is. it puts the entire school on pause because of how people skip their classes just to get a glimpse of them and are far too lovesick thinking about their next interaction rather than their assignments. don’t even get them started on the nightmare that is their birthday or valentine’s day, presents in front of their locker fill up the halls and leave no room to pass through them.

the worst part is that they are fully aware of all the attention they get and make no effort to put a stop to all of the nonsense— most actually try to milk it for the massive confidence boost added to their already inflated ego and the gifts they receive daily to have their hearts won. it’s just what they always do, feeding off the affections of others for their own powers. the hype doesn’t die down until every student is rejected or until they decide to get a lover and snap others out of their delusions of dating them. it took a lot longer than the administration would like, but after a few months, you found yourself a lover and the school is finally slowing down to its regular schedule.

━━━ .°˖✧ scarle yonaguni ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ the beautiful and alluring enchantress of iluna, truly, there isn’t anyone who could be better back for you as two lovers with such a seductive aura to them… at least that’s how it seems to outsiders whowould look at your relationship thinking that you both were dommy mommies who fight each other to the death for the right to top, but anyone who has spoken to scarle would know who’s really in charge in the relationship. scarle still can’t believe that she pulled you after engaging in conversation with you and revealing her true shy and awkward self without the help of a love potion (which she totally wasn’t intending on actually brewing, that would be crazy aha). she still trips over herself which talking to you, and even though you find it to be so charming, she dies a little inside every time you lovingly bully her.

even though she’s been prepped thoroughly by your fingers, she still feels intimidated by the size of your strap that had her stomach twisting in knots. yes, it was one that she picked out, no, she will not be backing down. she gripped onto the bedsheets under her as you eased yourself into her, whining at the big stretch that burned yet felt so pleasurable at the same time. it took a minute for her to adjust, but she was quick to roll her hips back into your touch to tell you that she was ready to move. scarle’s braced herself to wait for the brute force that came with your usual animalistic pace, yet it never came because you were fixated on something else.

her eyes trailed down and widened at the sight of the shape formed in her abdomen from you bullying inches of your cock into her, skin slightly raised with your strap to show you how good she was at taking whatever you gave her. she didn’t have much time to admire it though, slamming your hips into hers and hitting her g-spot with the tip so hard she saw stars. you were to hypnotized by her that your thrusts were almost sloppy, watching intently at her fat tits bouncing and tummy bulging in accordance with your movements mixed with the loud pornographic sound of sex. the way she moans and clenches around your cock would be enough to drive anyone crazy with lust, you can’t help but wonder if your pretty and alluring enchantress was actually a succubus in disguise.

━━━ .°˖✧ kyo kaneko ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ ah yes, the one you pursued because he was the only one who didn’t fall at your feet upon meeting your eyes for the first time. you always get what you want without any effort, so it was both dejecting and exciting to see someone who scoffed and rolled his eyes at your flirtatious behavior that would have had anyone else fainting on the spot instead. kyo was simply someone you thought you couldn’t have, making you want him even more. it did embarrass you to get off your high horse and flirt with him like a normal person, but after noticing that he was reacting with stutters and blushes while making weak insults, you knew that you already had him in the palm of your hand and made the humbling move of being the first to ask him out when it was always the other way around. that’s when you learned that even though he’ll always complain and be a brat about it, he actually indulges happily in everything you ask.

“don’t fucking look at me like that when you’re already kneeling between my thighs,” you giggled, looking at the blue-haired male sighed in annoyance before grabbing onto your thighs to pull you closer to him. despite acting like he was hella irritated, it didn’t translate into his actions with the way he keenly flicked his tongue against your clit and licking lope stripes along your slit. it almost made you laugh how the blunt and pessimistic kyo kaneko was secretly such an enthusiastic pussy eater. that’s what being a succubus’s lover gets you, you suppose, it really brings out another side of people in the bedroom.

while he does like to fight you for some semblance of control when you're in such a compromising position and attempt to leave you pathetic under him, you have to remind him who is really in change. it doesn’t take more than a tug on his cyan hair to pull him off of you to make him slip up with a whimper, making you snicker in response. he’s so cute when he pouts with your slick shining his lips and running down his chin as he starts complains like a brat before shaking his head out of your grip and moving on to continue with the reminder that he isn’t domming you today.

━━━ .°˖✧ aia amare ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ a heavenly maiden dating a demon of lust? how scandalous! despite the forbidden romance, she’s absolutely head over heels for you as you are for her. others at the school are supportive of your relationship and your folks could care less about how you feel towards an angel, but her family is a different story. aia was already in trouble for getting kicked out of the heavens for the accumulation of her petty crimes and needed to attend the institute of mythics as punishment, so something like dating you was certain to land her in even hotter water.

╰₊✧ they were definitely suspicious of your intentions with their daughter, worried that you were just trying to seduce her and siphon power from her, but you seem earnest enough when it came to caring for their angel so they aren’t as doubtful anymore as they were when they first met you. you’ve even reached the stage where you two are allowed to sleep in the same bedroom together with the door open, but that doesn’t stop either of you from getting frisky late at night while everyone’s asleep!

“just gotta keep quiet— sounds good, angel?” you whispered in her ear as heat spread throughout her entire body with your hand reaching under her nightgown and dipping into her underwear. it sounded easy enough, but the house was as silent as a catacomb and any noise made was sure to be amplified, the smallest moan having the potential to alert someone that the two of you were up to something heaven wouldn’t approve of. aia loves to take on challenges of all sorts, however she only realized how difficult it would be when you began to toy with her clit and press your fingers past her folds into her weeping cunt that barely needed any prep with how much she wanted you. she whined and it made you chuckle softly with your wings fluttering slightly, “not as easy as you thought, huh?”

feeling generous enough to help her out, you raised your other hand to rest over her mouth to remind her to remain silent and to muffle any sounds that threatened to slip. she must have been into it because you could feel her tighten around you after you stretched her out with a slowly added third finger, arching her back and bucking her hips into your touch. she gasped into your hand when you curled your knuckle to feel around her gummy walls and pressing into her g-spot, something that usually had her squealing when the gesture makes her orgasm all over your hand, but all she could do was let a groan that was smothered out by your hand.

━━━ .°˖✧ maria marionette ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ oh, maria looks at you with the widest, brightest eyes of puppy love— you’re simply so sexy and sophisticated in contrast of her adorable appearance and chuuni personality! she just has an attraction to girls who have more of a mature appeal, she can’t help it! meanwhile, you find her to be so endearing, how could she be one of the cutest dolls you’ve ever seen? she never felt things that her peers felt like sexual want before and didn’t have too much understanding about the action other than the biological function, but now that she’s a real girl instead of a doll, she can’t think of anyone better than a succubus girlfriend to guide her through this journey!

the vibrating toy you were pressing onto her clit was creating a strange foreign sensation within her by making volts of pleasure ripple throughout her entire body, making her core burn with pleasure as the tips of her fingers and toes tingled with numbness. it maintained an unchanging pace and the only difference in intensity came from the pressure you were putting on it, but just the slightest shift in force was enough to drive her crazy. she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight and neither could you, her pussy being abused by this silicone toy and reducing the cheerful mari to a pathetic moaning mess.

isn’t she just the cutest with her mouth making a perfect ‘o’ shape for her dulcet cries and her face flushed a pretty pink to match her color scheme? god, you just want her ruin her innocent mind and are looking forward to corrupting her, getting her drunk on the feeling of pure ecstasy you provide so that she’ll learn to be you for more of it— it’s just the instinct of a succubus to teach people all about their world of carnal desire! although, you think she might be even more excited than you are about discovering this new side of her that came with becoming a human and using it to spice up your relationship…

━━━ .°˖✧ aster arcadia ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ it makes so much sense that he’s the celestial one because he’s so beautiful that you assumed he was a demi-god of sorts, the most enticing eyes and unique hair you’ve ever seen immediately attracting you to him (you’re almost envious of how stunning he is). similar to the doll who’s now a real human, aster perfectly balances out your foxy charms with his “cyuteness” and he’s just the right amount of unseiso to bounce off your jokes. you just love it when he makes a dirty joke before acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about when you catch it, always with a sly smile on his innocent-looking face and humming with his sweet-sounding voice. of course, he can never outdo you since he’s still the bottom bitch we all know and love, but it’s simply so much fun to see him try!

he’s too feeble and still too horny to deny you, so he says nothing but a weak whimper and watches you continue to fondle with his balls and lick at his sensitive red tip after you already made him cum. his heterochromic eyes were already threatening to tear up from overstimulation as they stared deeply into your mischievous ones, feeling his thighs quake and back arch at the overwhelming pleasure. your head steadily bobbed up and down, holding him down slightly so that he wouldn’t be able to buck his hip into your mouth and everything remained at your pace. from his silly ahoge to his smooth ivory skin to his needy cock was gorgeous, almost distracting you from the task at hand because you just wanted to look at him forever. however, you were certain that you wouldn’t miss the look on his face and the moan he’ll let out in a minute or two, so you can afford to look away for a moment and focus on giving him another mind-blowing orgasm.

━━━ .°˖✧ ren zotto ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ one of his favorite things about attending the iluna institute is meeting other species as it’s always nice to meet another being who looked human for the most part but had things like wings or horns to set them apart from others. ren’s native planet didn’t have any creatures who feed off of live forces through seduction, so he was immediately enthralled by you and wanted to learn more about your kind. he was more interested in what you could do with your powers rather than what you could do for him and you were wondering if the life force of an alien was more powerful than that of a human, a relationship that sprouted from the roots of curiosity!

╰₊✧ ren’s actually thrilled to have a succubus partner to learn so much from, but he’s mainly grateful because he has had a bit of a problem ever since he entered young adulthood and was usually far too embarrassed to ever bring it up for previous partners. just alien anatomy things that weren’t human and biology that couldn’t be controlled, you know? he has no words to explain the wave of relief he felt when he awkwardly told you about it and you welcomed it with open arms, promising to care for him no matter how long his heat lasts or how wild things may get when he’s influenced by it. however, he can’t help but feel a bit uneasy by the almost sadistic look in your eyes.

his neediness and desperation for you increases tenfold when he’s in heat, his face buried in your tits and his cock pulsating inside of you frantic for release. he felt like he could burst with just the slightest shift of you body, but it was never enough stimulation. must you always be so vexing with rewarding promises if he does as you say? he felt like he was going to go crazy with not-so-subtle ruts into you to try and chase his high, but it was all for naught and only edged him even more. it just made you look at him with pity and coo at how pathetic he was, the alien prince infamous for destroying entire planets crying like a little bitch because you wouldn’t let him cum just yet.

he was in heat! couldn’t you be a bit nicer to him? he swears that he’ll let you torture him all you want a different time, but right now he’ll do anything for you to stop teasing him! you hummed in amusement and cupped his face to give him a kiss, running your hand over his skin and observing all of the little alien features that were normally hidden from plain set. eyes set on the glorious jet-black pointed horns atop his head, you experimentally wrapped your fingers around it feel the strange texture more properly and noticed a spark in his green eyes as electricity shot up his spine.

“oh, you’re sensitive there, aren’t you?” you cooed, pouting when you realized that he never told you about this wonderful snippet of information but smiling again when he got all flustered. you started gently, tracing patterns and running along the shape, noticing that his tail began to flick around and his cock twitching in reaction. with your motions steadily getting faster and rougher, he began letting out slurred moans and biting at his bottom lip to suppress them as he pulled you closer to his body. it barely took anything more than a light tug to get him to spill over, unexpectedly emptying himself into you and making you chuckle in response while he was huffing for air. you really needed to tease his horns more often!

request was [ iluna with a reader who is a succubus? i think it would be a really interesting concept! ]

[harryforvogue]

a blurb where harry is a big schedule guy and yasmine is a big "it happens when it happens" girlie. they fight (sorta).

***

Harry and Yasmine have never lived with other people after moving out of their homes, and they alternated whose place they’d be staying at back in graduate school. It was always an unspoken rule that if Harry was at Yasmine’s house, she was the boss. And vice versa. 

But now that they're living together, how are they supposed to adjust and split responsibilities? More importantly, how the hell are they expected to create a rhythm?

Harry is a very structured person. Gets out of bed at a certain time, has lunch at a fixed time. Dinner as well. He considers himself a pretty laid back guy too. He’ll skip cooking some days to order takeout – or swap his laundry days with his bedsheet changing days just to switch things up. Yasmine calls him a relentless Aquarius. He's not supposed to be offended, right?

He’s always known that Yasmine is… less serious about all that. So, really, he always knew what he was getting himself into. Especially when it’s nearly 11 on a Sunday and Yasmine’s still buried in the sheets, gripping him tight to keep him from slipping out of bed despite his groaning about how he just wants to take a shower and eat something. (Probably the worst habit of Yasmine’s is skipping breakfast nearly every morning and that’s just not something he’s going to stand by.)

After graduation, Yasmine and Harry are employed at different universities, and the first few months are filled with settling into their new jobs. Their work hours are very similar, with the exception of Wednesdays where Harry has a later recitation class to teach. Regardless, Harry went into the new job with the mindset that he’d always get all his work done on time so that he and Yasmine could focus on figuring out the layout of their place still. Not to mention, Harry’s dedication to at least 2 dates a week (and going grocery shopping is NOT a date no matter how much Yasmine insists it is). 

He has a calendar in his office above his desk that tells him what days he needs to get his deadlines done so that he and Yasmine can have some time for themselves. He crosses out all the things he gets finished and circles the days he’s free.

Yasmine is the opposite. She always gets everything done, but it’s never as planned as Harry. She has the ability to sit down and bang everything out in one day … and also the ability to procrastinate until the night before.

It’s baffling to Harry. Harry’s routine is annoying to Yasmine. Really – where’s the fun in all that planning? And what if something suddenly comes up and there’s no wiggle room to fit in a doctor’s visit or something just because you’ve meticulously scheduled all your work to be back to back on weekdays.

This comes up one day when she’s working and he’s bringing her dinner to her study.

Harry pulls up a chair on the other side of her desk with his own plate. “Yasmine.”

“Mhmm.”

“If you’d gotten this done yesterday, we could have gone to the shop you wanted to visit.”

“We can go during the weekend. I can’t just align everything with your schedule to free up some time.”

Harry smiles, but it’s clearly tense. “We get home at the same time, Yas. If we can just finish all our stuff for the next day of class before, say, 5pm, we have the rest of the day to be together. Doesn’t that sound great?”

Yasmine glances up at him over her glasses. “I don’t want to do more work as soon as I get home though. I want to relax.”

From Harry’s face, she knows he’s thinking about the hour-long nap she took on their couch as soon as she came home. 

“Right, but. Now it’s almost 8 and we won’t make it to the store on time.”

“We’ve got weekends for that.”

His mouth twists into something that’s very much not a smile. “We’ve got other stuff to do over the weekend, remember? We agreed on two dates a week–”

“No. You decided that.” 

Harry stops. He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling in an attempt to calm himself down. When he looks back at her, he reaches across, shuts her laptop in a not-so-nice way and says, “What?”

Yasmine crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. “Well, you said the two dates thing. I think going to the shop counts as a date.”

“Going shopping isn’t a date. Having a romantic time out is a date.”

“Any time I get to spend with you is a date, Harry. It's about being with you, not where we go.”

“Have you maybe considered that I want to take you to restaurants and little getaways simply because I enjoy them too? That I like to see you have fun with me?”

Yasmine sighs and takes her glasses off. She rubs her eyes tiredly. “You clearly have a certain work ethic. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but I don’t. I get my work done when it gets done and I don’t want this structured, super formal scheduling of our time together. We live together, Harry. I see you all the time. Isn’t that enough?”

He doesn’t say anything for some time, but it’s clear he’s taken aback.

“It’s not enough,” he says, anger in his voice. “It’s not nearly enough. We’re dating, Yasmine. We’re not roommates.”

Yasmine blinks. “We technically are roommates.”

He runs a hand through his hair. Yasmine knows she's pushing him more than necessary. "Don't do that."

“All I’m saying is that I don’t want to schedule times with you. Won’t that be boring? Like, oh! It’s 6pm! Gotta go watch a movie with my boyfriend. It’s 7. Gotta have dinner. It’s 8, we should probably have sex before we get too tired. I’ve never had that type of schedule and I don’t want to.”

“It’s efficient.”

“I’m not having sex with you at 8pm every night just because it’s efficient. What -- are you going to break up that time too? 15 minutes for foreplay, 10 minutes for--"

He looks really mad now, his eyes alight. “That’s not what I mean! I’m saying that if we’re on the same wavelength – if we’re getting all our work done on time, then we can spend time together. That’s all! You're being way too difficult just for the sake of disagreeing with me.”

Yasmine frowns deeply. “Why don’t you adapt to my schedule then? I get all my work done too. I’ve got Saturday and Sunday’s open too – just like you.” From Harry’s expression, she exclaims, “See? It’s not about our time together. It’s about us sticking to your routine.”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “We live together now. Don’t you think we should have some sort of rhythm? Be in sync?”

“That’s boring Harry!”

“It’s–”

“Don’t you dare say efficient!”

“It is!” Harry stands, putting distance between them. “This is ridiculous, Yasmine. And you have no right to say that I’m only making you adapt to my way of living.”

“Why can’t we live my way?”

“Because you don’t have a way! You get up and you just make things up! I can’t do that. I want to have breakfast together, lunch together and dinner together. I don’t want to be eating alone while you’re working just because you didn’t want to finish everything before 6. This past week alone, we’ve yet to do anything but ask about each other’s day because when I’m working, you're not, and when you’re working, I’m done with everything. You see the problem?”

Now, Yasmine can handle Harry when he gets like this. She’s put up with him before – and she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t see his point. He wants to spend time together as a couple. And he’s figured out a great way to clear up time for himself. Now he wants her to follow his regimen.

But the thing that makes Yasmine get angry is his volume. He’s got no right to yell at her.

And, okay. He’s not really yelling. He’s just annoyed and getting his point across loudly. But, it’s too late.

“Clearly we’re not going to do anything together tonight so why don’t you just let me finish my work and then we’ll talk about this later.”

Harry grabs his dinner and starts to leave her office. “No, we won’t be talking about this because by the time you’re done, I’m going to be asleep!”

“Well maybe don’t sleep so early?” she snaps back.

“Why should I change my schedule to match yours?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you!”

“You don’t have a schedule!” Harry says, visibly trying to keep his head from exploding. “You do things whenever you feel like doing them. So whenever you realize you’re more than a roommate to me, find me.”

He shuts the door behind him, leaving Yasmine alone in the room.

***

Harry can hold a grudge.

Yasmine, as fiery as she can get, has harsh anger hangovers. Once her anger at Harry is gone, she goes to find him. Sure enough, it’s late and Harry’s already in bed.

So she gets ready for bed too. And when she slides in, she waits for Harry to say something. He must still be angry because he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even turn to give her a kiss.

Yasmine sighs to herself. He’s the one who never likes to go to sleep angry, so she inches closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. “Harry.”

No answer.

“Harry?”

Nothing.

He’s not wrong, but she’s not either. So she sits up and pokes his biceps hard to wake up just in case he’s already out. When he offers her nothing, she huffs and rolls her over him, looking at him sideways with half her body draped over his arm. 

“Hey.” She goes back to poking, this time on his face. “Hellooooooo.”

“What are you doing?” he grumbles, turning his face away. Yasmine finishes rolling over so she’s now on his side, looking up at him. She nearly tumbles off the side of the bed, but Harry’s quick arm on her waist prevents that.

"Yasmine," he hisses.

“Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t want to. Go back to your side."

“Oh come on. No going to sleep angry, remember?”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed. We can definitely go to sleep annoyed. In fact, I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing."

“Hmm, no we can’t.” She tangles her legs with his. “Harry. Look. I understand what you’re saying. But I’m not going to apologize. I don’t think we’re that type of couple that needs to do everything together.”

“Not what I was saying but thanks for showing me you were listening."

She rolls her eyes. “I get that you want to spend time together, but don’t you think blocking out certain hours of the day is kind of ridiculous? It's so military."

"Military?"

"You get what I mean."

“Yasmine, if you had a 9 to 5 job, what time would we have to be together?”

“That’s not fair considering we don’t have 9 to 5s.”

“Say we did.”

“We’d have time after 5 and weekends.”

“Wouldn’t that be a schedule?”

“Well I don’t imagine we’d do something every day. I love you, but I do need to be away from you sometimes.”

Harry’s jaw tenses. He closes his eyes again. “Goodnight.”

“Hey wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” Yasmine laughs, throwing her arms around his neck. “I only mean that we’d get sick of each other.”

“I’d never get sick of you.”

“You’re saying that now but if we’re attached at the hip, then I’m totally sure–”

Harry’s eyes open and he grabs Yasmine’s face, tugging her close. “Never,” he says, voice deathly quiet. “I’d never get sick of you.”

She stops laughing, eyes wide. Something flutters in her chest. And…elsewhere too.

"Fine," she says, all breathily. "It would be a schedule, but only because we'd have no other option. We have flexibility as professors. We have more time, but more work load we bring home. It's not the same thing."

The hand on her waist tightens and suddenly she’s beneath him, his entire body hovering over hers. He lets go of her face, but leans down to kiss her instead. She holds him tight, her fingers tangled in his long curls that keep falling into their faces and tickling them.

“Harry,” she murmurs against his mouth. “Why are you so worried about us spending time together, hm?”

“I haven’t had a single meal with you all week, and I just remembered that you spent Sunday catching up on work, which is unfair because I forced myself to finish all my work so that I could have time for you. I don’t want to be the only one doing that.”

Yasmine sighs. “Harry, I’m not working just to avoid you.”

“I know that. And I know that us living together is enough for you. That sleeping and waking besides me is good, but it's not nearly enough for me.” Then, quietly, “I’m being petty about how you get your work done. But Yasmine, I didn't ask you to move together with me just so I could see you every day. I want a life with you." He traces her cheek gently, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And you’re right – we don’t have a 9 to 5 but is it so wrong for wanting to cut out a part of my day just for us? No talking about work. Just you and me, with a lot of this, preferably.” He kisses her again.

She's getting all mushy inside again. “It’s not wrong,” she whispers. “It’s not.” She wraps her legs around him, making him lean all her wait onto him. He holds his out against the mattress to stop himself.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“No. Lay on me."

Harry does so, just for a total of five seconds until she’s gasping for air. Satisfied, she rolls out from under him and lets him lay comfortably. She straddles him then, bracing her hands on his chest. “Okay, let’s come to an agreement.”

Harry runs his hands up and down her thighs. “Let’s.”

“How about this: no talk of work after 7.”

“6.”

“Done.”

“And I will try my best to finish all my work by then also, but in the event I cannot due to circumstances overlooked in your calendar, you have to leave me to finish up so that I can come back to you as quickly as possible.”

“Done. And on weekends, nobody works. Don't bring any of it home on Friday. Not even a mere word about it.”

“Unless absolutely necessary.”

He pins her with a stern look. “I’ll be the judge of those conditions.”

“Anything else, professor?” Yasmine grins knowingly down at him, drumming her fingers against his chest.

Harry pinches her side. “And I will be a little less annoying about the whole two date thing.”

“And I’m sorry that I’ve kind of neglected you all week.”

“Thank you.”

Yasmine blinks expectantly at him.

He says, “Oh, are you waiting for an apology from me?”

“That would be nice.”

“Is that right?” 

She feels a thrill rush up her spine. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah? Would you, baby? Good to know.”

“Or you can make it up to me in a different way.”

He shrugs. “Sorry. It’s almost 10. I’m strictly a no-love-making-past-eight-pm kinda guy.”

Yasmine sighs. “What a shame. And to think I went through all this effort coming to bed without a bra or underwear on in hopes I’d get to–”

Harry sits up and wraps his arms around her, roughly pulling her down into bed. “C’mere.”

[emry-stars-art]

Oooh do go on about raven neil and jean 👀 (if you’re so inclined ☺️) - @neil-jostenminyard

*chanting* raven Neil raven Neil raven Neil (and lots of Jean) (quite possibly even jeaneil) (although most of the thoughts are post-ravens lol)

So my personal thoughts about this are also mostly thanks to chats and inspiration/prompting from @jtl-fics and @greenautumnleaves so if you see any additions from them on this post it's most likely also thoughts I adore lol

Anyway this got kind of long so:

I ALSO latched onto Sakavic's statement that Neil wouldn't leave Jean in the nest bc yeah it makes sense and also ow

But just the two of them being partnered up like Riko and Kevin as is common in these aus, and then after Kevin gets out first, they have to stick together and rely on each other even MORE because Riko is pissed that Kevin is gone and probably takes it out on the next closest two idk

But in our imaginings, Renee or Andrew get Jean out quicker than in canon, again because Neil would refuse to leave Jean behind and I can only imagine he'd go so far as to trick or manipulate Jean into leaving. Maybe by being at a certain place at a certain time to get picked up, however he can make it happen. But the issue we run into is that once that's done, what the hell would Neil have left at Evermore, besides Exy that maybe he still loves deep down. But Exy's been so warped being raised on it at the nest that at that point his obsession is barely recognizable.

Kevin might recognize this, because he knew Neil in the nest. Or at least he knew the person that Neil presented himself as. But it's probably more likely that Jean recognizes this, and yeah things are super rocky and weird but Jean can barely even function without Neil. So back a fox goes to rescue their second raven's partner.

They bring Neil back to Palmetto and he and Jean are completely inseparable. Emotionally and physically. Neither of them act like, feel like, or even call themselves "touchy feely" or "clingy" people but as soon as Neil is treated for various intense and mysterious injuries, they're curled up in some hidden place for hours. Even the short time having left Neil behind made Jean almost too anxious to leave his room. Even the short time without Jean - now with more punishment for aiding Jean's escape - was enough for Neil to consider something drastic.

(side note: Andrew now has not one, not two, but three gorgeous tragic boys under his supervision and I'm sure he's handling that totally normally lmao. But it's so obvious to him that Jean and Neil have something going on that any ideas for himself aren't worth entertaining.)

So it's a little easier to ease out of various habits and thought processes because Jean and Neil are doing it together, with outside help. They fix their sleep cycles/rhythms, try a slightly more normal college diet, and most slowly lose their "win or die" mindset in practices. They're still never seen without each other - Wymack had a talk with some of the school board about their schedules and dorm arrangements for the first semester. In reality, he's not sure if he should have them go cold turkey on raven habits or if he should take it slower, but he's doing his damn best to get these boys adjusted to life outside a cult. And Neil and Jean, whether or not they actively realize it, find that step to be the one they absolutely cannot take. Why would they go through the agony of learning to live separately if they don't have to. When no one else understands them like the other, when they've already seen each other's worst so nothing else is worth keeping secret between them. Who else is Jean going to go to when having a better life makes him feel like he more deserves death or punishment and the guilt hits him so hard he can't breathe, much less sleep. Who else is Neil going to go to when he can't let go of his birthright - if he isn't good at what he does (Exy) he literally could just be shot like a lame horse - and he's not allowed to go practice Exy against a wall to the point of tearing himself apart anymore so he forces his feet away from the court to find the only person he knows he'll listen to when they say no.

Kevin, of course, is keeping a close eye on the two, whether unintentionally or on purpose is unclear. Neil still has a mouth on him, he sometimes plays mind games with the foxes like chess against himself, and most of all does not allow anyone to get too close to Jean. Jean is still quiet, having learned not only to take a punishment without resistance but also that Neil will speak first. Neil will resist so Jean doesn't have to. He's safer in Neil's shadow.

Maybe it's a phrase or warning that Neil uses and that Kevin recognizes. Maybe it's a gesture between Neil and Jean that Kevin oversees. Maybe it's just the general demeanor of the two. But whatever it is is familiar to Kevin, not in a "I remember this from them in the nest" way. He can recognize by now that Riko was not good to him, he can acknowledge it even if the rest of him hasn't caught up. He looks at Jean in Neil's shadow and remembers himself in Riko's.

As if Butcher's son Nathaniel Wesninski wasn't already scary enough on his own.

But Kevin won't allow this kind of thing on his court, and he's not good at it but he is still trying to let go of unhealthy raven ideals. If Neil is holding onto some fucked up dynamic, Kevin is going to put a stop to it.

He pulls Jean aside, a miraculous feat. He asks what Neil has done.

"Mistake" might be an understatement.

It could very easily be the longest string of words Jean has said to anyone besides Neil. Kevin doesn't know near as much French as he does in canon - Neil is the one that shares that secret defiance - so it's all clear English, Jean making sure Kevin understands every word. Kevin should never speak about Neil that way again. He knows nothing about them, he shouldn't so much as pretend to understand Neil. Neil is the only good thing that ever happened to Jean. Kevin never cared enough to bring it up in the nest, so he has no right to start caring now.

It isn't great for their already tumultuous relationship. Kevin wonders for a bit if Jean would tell Neil about it - then next practice Neil doesn't even try to work with Kevin, even after the two had made it a point as strikers to figure out how to. He ignores the other strikers entirely, falling immediately and seamlessly into perfect synch with Jean behind him, speaking hardly a word of English the whole practice. Because he knows that will make Kevin even more angry than Neil being actively hostile to his new teammates.

Kevin isn't sure what he was expecting. Chances are Jean hadn't even needed to bring it up for Neil to notice something was off.

As for Andrew, I think he could still pick up a game of truths. He'd need to offer a similar deal as he did for canon Neil, this time for Neil-and-Jean, the entity of the two of them together. I think he could ensure some cooperation by saying he won't force Jean and Neil apart from each other the way some others have muttered about doing. Even if Neil knows by now the codependence isn't healthy, neither of them are ready to give it up.

It probably really throws Andrew to hear that they don't consider themselves to be an item. They're together, sure, but for a raven that doesn't always, maybe even rarely, means "in a traditional relationship". Neil and Jean definitely never offer any clarification. That's no one else's business, even if they could explain it so that a non-raven could understand. Generally I feel like if this is an andreil universe, it's an even longer, stranger, more winding road to get there than in canon.

I'm almost CERTAIN there's more Im forgetting about rn but this has been my taster on raven Neil+Jean, I hope it was at least a little bit coherent, and greenautumnleaves - I hope this comes anywhere close to your galaxy brain ideas on these two lol. Maybe I'll be back with other thoughts later who knows

[visceral-stories]

Inheritance

I’m back! Thank you all for staying with me during my long hiatus! I truly appreciate it and I hope you enjoy the story! 

Ko-fi |Twitter 

6:30 PM seemed like a rather late time for a job interview, but it had been the only option to work with Garrett Carmichael’s hectic schedule. An ambitious high school senior, his weekday afternoons were usually fully booked. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he participated on his high school’s Quiz Bowl team and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he attended meetings  with his math league. Unfortunately, being a productive, ambitious scholar was not a lucrative venture, save for the college scholarships he was already applying for. Garrett’s nonexistent financials were what brought him to apply for the position of a waiter at his town’s local banquet hall. 

He also needed something to balance out the drag that high school had become. He didn’t mind the schoolwork or classes as much, but none of his few close friends - or acquaintances even - shared his same classes. It felt like he was just going through the motions, forced to interact with people who he didn’t care for. The absolute worst was his fourth hour in World History where a gaggle of dim-witted football jocks made the class a living hell. They weren’t physical with him by any means, but they were the type to whisper under their breaths and mock the way he talked or his answers to questions. As a result, it made him far more apprehensive to raise his hand whenever he knew the answer in class. School sucked and on the weekends, he was free. Too free. Having abundant free time was nice, but it wasn’t like he had many hobbies outside of playing videogames with his fellow math league teammates or doing deep-dives on the internet about the multitude of scientific topics that interested him. Not only did he need money, but he just wanted to get out of the house for a few hours and not watch the Saturdays and Sundays glide past him every week. 

The application process had been momentarily bewildering for Garrett who had no clue how the website worked and he had to ask his mom what the digits to his social security number were. Every other high schooler his age had gotten a job already and he felt dumb for getting daunted by the simple process, but ultimately he persevered. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he stepped out of his car and walked to the front door. 

“Wow,” Garrett said with awe as he stepped into the nicest waiting room he’d ever seen. An immaculate tessellation of white and yellow rectangles adorned the ceilings accented by bold, curving polygons painted emerald green to resemble vines. The design appeared to extend far beyond the puny waiting room he was in and across the ceilings and walls of the main banquet hall, which he could see for a long distance. 

“Can I help you, sir?” croaked a male voice.

Garrett looked back in front of him to see a man sitting inside a booth in the corner labeled “COAT CHECK” - the only other fixture in this small, open space. He had broad shoulders and was wearing a fancy tuxedo, nearly filling up the whole window with his width. “I-ummm,” Garrett coughed and cleared his throat, peeved at the inopportune phlegm that had formed. “I’m here for a job interview to be a waiter here.” 

A warm feeling of dread filled Garrett’s body when the coat check guy just looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. Garrett remembered the man he’d been messaging in his emails. “I’m supposed to talk to a uhh…Mr. Clifford Atkinson.”

Thankfully, the man’s stoic face lit up with recognition. “Oh yes, he should be here within the next 15 minutes. His reservation starts at 6:45.” 

“Oh, okay,” Garrett replied. He adjusted his glasses and wondered why the Clifford guy needed a reservation. Didn’t he work here?

“You can take a seat over there and wait for him if you’d like,” the man offered with a faint smile. 

Garrett curtly nodded and quickly sat down in one of the few dark red office chairs outside the front door. He pulled out his phone and searched for that email he’d received from Mr. Atkinson. He could’ve sworn the email he’d received yesterday had told him to arrive at 6:30, but unfortunately it was nowhere to be found no matter how hard he searched for it. Crud. He must’ve deleted it or something. Emails were weird. 

The next ten minutes ticked slowly by, leaving Garrett with minimal entertainment besides a few men and women who intermittently came and went through the front door. They were dressed up in tuxedos just like the coat check guy. It was intimidating the way they moved to and fro. Their solid black jackets with stark white shirts bounced up and down with their movements, taunting Garrett with their sophistication. A layer of sweat formed around him as he realized he might’ve come to this thing underdressed. His casual attire of a light blue short-sleeved shirt, a Mandalorian Star Wars tie, and brown cargo shorts clashed heavily with the fashion here. He’d just gotten here and he’d already made a mistake. It was too late to go back home and change clothes so he decided to drown his fears by scrolling through social media. As he was catching up on IGN’s most recent game review, the door flung open. Garrett glanced up, expecting to see Mr. Atkinson, but instead, the last person he wanted to see stumbled inside. 

A tall, muscular  jock stepped inside, dressed in a light gray short-sleeve t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, and of course - a signature backward cap. “Hey, what’s up man?” he announced as he swaggered up to the man in the coat check booth. “I’m here for the uh…waiter position.”

Garrett’s blood ran cold. It was Devon Kearney - one of the dumbest guys alive and unfortunately, the most prolific nuisance in his fourth-hour World History class. Every day, his deep, stupid voice filled the room as he tended to share every impulsive thought he had with the other football jocks in the class. He was a real menace, rude to everyone besides his little clique or, of course, girls in the class he found attractive. 

Garrett watched the employee gesture for Devon to sit in the chair next to him and a wave of fear filled his body as the jock’s face lit up.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he boomed as he sidled over to Garrett, causing heads to turn. “You’re  that kid from history class!” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Carmichael, Carmichael, Carmichael. Shit, what’s the first name?” he asked aloud as if Garrett wasn’t even there. 

Garrett clenched his fists. “My name is Garrett, you big-”

“Ah! That’s right, that’s right! I knew that!” Devon roared as he sat down two chairs away from his far skinnier comrade. “You look like a Garrett too,” he snickered with a cocky sneer that made Garrett want to strangle him. Devon was so fake, trying to act all cool and friendly with him as if he hadn’t spent the last three months mocking Garrett in class. Most of the time when Garrett raised his hand to answer a question, he could hear Devon or one of his stupid friends whisper to each other and giggle. Those jerks. Garrett couldn’t wait till he graduated in May and never had to interact with those bozos ever again.

“So what the hell are you doing here, man? Are you applying for a job too?” Devon asked.

Garrett sighed. He wanted to tell Devon to screw off, but that sure as hell wouldn’t go over well at school tomorrow. It wasn’t like the jocks had ever been physical, but he didn’t want to find out. “I’m applying for a job,” he said, not even bothering to continue eye contact. 

“No way! What position? Dishwasher?”

Garrett held his ground as he felt the spit in the back of his throat dry up. “Waiter.”

“You? A waiter? No way, that’s the role I’m training for too!” Devon let out a boisterous laugh that made Garrett’s skin crawl. “Hey, I support it man, but no offense, I…uh….I don’t see you being super social. Being a waiter means like…talking to people a bunch and making ‘em your friends to get stacks of tip money! And at a real fancy place like this, they’re gonna have fat bank accounts! No cap!” 

“Whatever,” Garrett huffed quietly, cringing at the “no cap” comment the most. He turned his phone back on and released an embittered breath.

“It is what it is, man,” Devon snarkily added. He began talking, mostly to himself, again as he pulled out his phone. “Oh man, wait till I tell the boys about who I found at the banquet hall!” 

An awkward silence filled the hall once more, save for Devon’s subtly obnoxious open-mouthed breathing, but moments later, the door swung open and a middle-aged man waddled inside. Garrett caught a faint glimpse of his massive torso out of the corner of his eye. His silver-haired head looked like a snow-covered peak nestled in between the two mountains that were his massive shoulders. Even more shocking was the fact that his pecs were even larger than his bodybuilder-level deltoids. They had entered the room before he did and only drew more attention as they were thinly veiled beneath the strained white dress shirt he was wearing. The top three buttons were undone, revealing a scandalous amount of male cleavage complemented by a light dusting of silver chest hair. 

Garrett noticed that even Devon was also gawking at this colossal guy as he trudged over to the coat check. He leaned over on the desk as he talked with the attendant and Garrett’s cheeks turned pink as he gazed at the man’s massive, imperious figure. Especially his round butt. The dude was absolutely caked up! The buttons of the back pockets of his blue dress pants looked ready to snap. He’d never even considered the idea that men could have butts that big. 

All of a sudden, the hefty stranger spun around on his heels and made direct eye contact with the two teenagers who were obviously gawking at his size. His jaw was the size of a lantern and his eyes had a piercing sapphire coloration to them. He looked like he was plucked straight from Hollywood or something. “Ah, Gentlemen, welcome! It’s nice to see you!” he boomed, the volume of his bassy voice sending a shockwave through Garrett and Devon.  

“Nice to see you too, man!” Devon replied, clearly in awe of the massive male specimen in front of him 

“Sorry about the outfit, boys. These tits of mine have been fighting me to get dressed today,” Cliff said with a playful jiggle of his partially-exposed pecs. “Getting dressed up is quite the hassle isn’t it?”

“Yeah for sure!” Devon said, intentionally lowering his voice to match the other man’s volume. What a kiss-ass. Garrett didn’t even know how to react. He just watched as the other young man hopped to his feet and extended his arm out for a handshake to which the man obliged. “I’m Devon.”

“Cliff Atkinson,” the man boomed as he shook Devon’s hand. Garrett promptly hopped to his feet as the man turned to him. “And who might you be?” he asked. “Just kidding, Garrett. I know who you are. Bring it in. I’m so proud of you.”

Before Garrett could even process what was happening, the man had pulled him in for a bear hug. It was unbelievably awkward, considering he had to hunch over to get down to Garrett’s 5’6” height. As Cliff gave him a firm, tender beat hug as tight as a vice, Garrett swore he could feel his lungs compressing from the immense pressure. It wasn’t like he knew what to say anyway. He had never seen this man before and now he was talking to him so intimately. It was so weird. When Cliff released him and gave him a tender pat on the back, he was nothing short of disoriented. 

Garrett was gasping for breath. Before he could voice his confusion, the mountainous man stood straight up again and clapped his dumbbell-sized hands together with a smile. “I am quite glad to see you both, but I must say both of your outfits are quite unbecoming. The guests should be showing within a half hour. Maybe even earlier.” He turned to Devon. “I’m sure you are new here so all is forgiven, but this is a high-class banquet hall and we take attire very seriously here. Not to worry though, we have some proper clothes for you! Do you know where the dressing rooms are?” 

“No sir,” Devon replied. Garrett peered over and locked eyes with a very sour-faced Devon, whose eyes were still boggling wide with disbelief. 

Cliff smiled. “Not a problem, I’m happy to show you.” He turned to Garrett. “Garrett can go with you too. We must get you out of those dreadful street clothes. It’s your very special day after all.”  

Garrett’s throat was dry from how shocked he was, but Cliff had already started leading the way before he could ask him a question - and he certainly had many options!  Like “why the hell did you say you’re proud of me?”  Or “what do you mean by special day?” But just the thought of questioning this hulking beast of man seemed way too daunting, no matter how tame he seemed.

Cliff turned and led the two boys into the banquet hall, which was far more capacious than Garrett had expected. The place must’ve been at least three-thousand square feet, with every inch of it decorated with Italian Renaissance artwork similar to what was in the lobby. Intricate geometric patterns lined the walls and surrounded the various paintings around the hall, which were also complemented by beige accents around the perimeters. There also had to be around fifty or so round tables all spread out in the open area. Some of the chairs were so close together that Cliff had to walk sideways just to get his broad figure past. 

“So how the hell does a guy like you know a guy like that?” Devon whispered as the two traveled through the array of round tables, his voice rife with envy. 

“I have no clue,” Garrett replied - the exact same question was on his mind. 

“Whatever,” Devon snarled, his tone rich with vicious envy. “I’m a better fit for the job than you anyway. You don’t even know how to talk to girls.”

Garrett coiled his fists. He wanted to retaliate, but he knew that wouldn’t end well. Imagining the five other football players targeting him would be a living hell. He decided to voice a general comment anyway. “Well Devon, it appears that we may have both gotten the job. I mean he never said otherwise.” 

“Bullshit, sir,” Devon hissed before his eyes widened with confusion after a few moments. “Wait, why did I just call you, sir? I-”

Before Garrett could respond, Cliff’s roaring bass silenced the boys’ tiff. “Downstairs is the staff apparel room,” he boomed as they reached a locked door on the opposite end of the hall and twisted a key in the lock. “Devon, was it? We have freshly laundered uniforms listed by size and you can find what best correlates with your size. We will meet you back here when you are dressed.”

“Okay. Yes sir! Sounds good, sir!” Devon replied, raising his voice to feign confidence. Garrett grunted in frustration. He wanted to wipe that stupid smug grin off that suck-up’s face. 

Garrett winced as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’d best follow him too,” Cliff added. “You know better than to dress like that. I’d expect that out of Devon because he’s just showing up to work, but your apparel is usually not this…pedestrian.”

Garrett’s heart leapt into his throat. Why on earth was this man commenting on his apparel of all things? He just got here! And why was he talking to him like he’d already gotten the job? Yet at the same time, Cliff was talking to him like he’d known him for years. “Oh, I uh…okay,” Garrett meekly apologized, acquiescing to the man’s strange claims. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ask the man about his inappropriate hug earlier. “Say, when you said you were proud of me earlier, what did you-”

A marimba ringtone suddenly blared from Cliff’s pocket. He held up his index finger and produced an iPhone from his pocket although his meaty hands made it look like a toy. 

“Sorry Garrett, it’s the caterers,” Cliff barked. “I’ll meetcha back here in 15, alright?” 

“Oh um..I just-”

Cliff had already answered the phone and started walking away, revealing another glimpse at his broad backside. Garrett readjusted his big glasses and sulked. As he watched the burly stranger depart, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of attachment to him: a benevolence of sorts. It was almost eerie how overly-nice he was being, but it seemed earnest. Perhaps he could tell that Garrett was internally sweating bullets just to be here and was being accommodating. At least it appeared that he’d gotten the job without question? Both he and Devon. God, he didn’t wanna work with that doofus, but it appeared he had no choice. He also didn’t want to let Cliff down after all. The man had been generous enough to hire him on the spot. 

Descending down the old, stone staircase, Garrett entered a far less decorated area of the banquet hall. It smelled ancient down here. The air had a decadent, musty odor of men’s colognes mixed with a faint hint of mildew. As he rounded the corner, he noticed Devon was already sifting through a cabinet full of what appeared to be black uniforms. This room looked quite old and was rather charmless, save for a few photos of past galas and smiling well-dressed people on the walls. Something about this place was giving Garrett the creeps, but he couldn’t quite place it.

There was something different about Devon too. Even though his back was to Garrett, his entire outfit seemed a lot more…faded somehow? Maybe the light was playing tricks on him because the jock’s light denim jeans looked much silkier…and greyer in this light for some reason. Unfortunately, the poor basement lighting could not explain the shirt collar that had materialized around the jock’s neck. 

“How do they not have my size?” Devon griped, his back still to Garrett.

As Garrett walked closer to his acquaintance, a hazy feeling filled his head, as if he’d inhaled way too much of the dust down here. The ground started to feel farther away for some reason. “Wait, why are you shorter…than me?” he asked aloud.

“Shorter?” Devon snorted, now spinning around to face Garrett. “I’m not-”

The two boys stared at each other with unspoken shock as Devon’s tall figure began to squash down. He looked down in horror as the tall, muscular legs he used to score touchdowns were quickly reduced to two chubbier-looking nubs. The dramatic truncation left him at a condensed height of 5’8”, six inches shorter than before. His athletic torso appeared virtually unchanged, but his height - one of his most defining attributes - had been cruelly taken from him in an instant. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?” Devon roared, his composure gone in a flash. 

“I-I-I didn’t do this!” Garrett squeaked. If he wasn’t so terrified from Devon’s uproar, he would’ve giggled at his puny height. The jock’s muscular stature looked a lot cuter with his height condensed down - like he was a junior version of himself. “I…promise I didn’t. I don’t even-WHOA!” 

Garrett’s plea was cut short as he promptly shot up like a weed. At one point he’d been eye-level with Devon, but his legs and lower torso just kept stretching taller and taller until stopping at an imposing height. He flailed his arms out for a moment as his new 6’6” body nearly toppled over. It felt like he was walking on stilts! “Whoa! What the heck is happening?” he asked as he placed a hand on his forehead. Glancing upward, the newly-minted lanky sapling of a boy realized he was now only a few inches from touching the low, old ceiling. “No, no, I c-can’t be tall,” he stuttered. From the flabbergasted look on Devon’s face, he could tell he was shocked and quite jealous. Mostly jealous. 

Devon craned his neck up at Garrett and scowled with disgust. “This doesn’t even make any-DUDE, your clothes!” 

“My clothes?” Garrett asked. He glimpsed down and watched as his clothes suddenly started to cascade down his body. The first thing he saw were his t-shirt sleeves gliding down from his upper arms to his elbows until they stopped at his wrists. A pair of French cuffs formed on the ends of his new flowy sleeves, accompanied by a pair of distinct “POPS!” as two golden cufflinks materialized. They were nothing short of glossy, refracting the shoddy basement lighting beautifully. Simultaneously, Garrett’s cargo shorts started shuddering all on their own. They too began to distend further and further to the floor until they rested just above his sneakers. Darkness intruded upon the brown coloration of his shorts, turning them into a maroon and then a vibrant sable. A silky fabric also enveloped the khaki of the cargo shorts, stealing away their bagginess and eradicating the oversized front pockets.  

“What the hell is happening to us?” For once, Devon’s confident voice wavered, giving way to audible apprehension.

“I…I don't KNOW!” Garrett squealed as his new pair of pants was suddenly hoisted up by an invisible force. Or it wasn’t invisible, it appeared to be a pair of brown, leathery suspenders with metal clips that glistened in the light…which had magically materialized over him somehow? They locked in place and pulled Garrett’s pants up around his stomach. The movement scrunched up his t-shirt for a moment before the fabric magically levitated and gingerly tucked itself in, leaving zero wrinkles behind. “Y-you’re s-seeing this too, right?” he stuttered.

“Of course I fucking am!” Devon snarled, his face red with anger and embarrassment. Garrett’s eyes goggled incredulously as Devon’s new outfit looked even more elaborate than his. Gone forever was his grey t-shirt and blue jeans and instead he now sported a long-sleeved dress shirt fit with an array of vibrant mother-of-pearl buttons complemented by a pair of black suit pants. Devon’s new dapper attire accentuated every ripple of his body from his larger-than-average arms and legs. Most interestingly, his belly had a faint bump to it now, like he was bloated or something. 

Garrett was mesmerized as he watched the jock struggle in his new, expertly-tailored clothes. Simultaneously, he couldn’t resist the urge to steal glances at himself and watch as his shirt dyed itself blue and his new dress pants dyed themselves a relaxing shade of light grey. In unison, both of their respective waterfalls of new clothing entered their final cascade. To mark its near terminus, a brand new pair of black suspenders sprung up from Devon’s dress pants. They yanked his pants up high up past his belly button. “GUH!” Devon cried in anguish as the suspenders attached around his shoulders and locked his pants in a painful-looking position. Garrett didn’t dare look for long, but he noticed that the jock’s genitals were bulged up in the pants’ fly as a result. 

“This fucking hurts!” Devon cried, unable to hold in his rage “I can’t even feel my co-o--ock!”

Unlike Garrett, Devon’s clothes had a few more tricks up their sleeves. Firstly, an ocean of black stitching materialized over his pristine white dress shirt. It started at his shirt collar and promptly swallowed up his back and his pecs, until finally stopping just above his waist. Devon’s attempts to undo his tight suspenders were cruelly cut short as a brand new black suit jacket concealed his entire torso. Garrett gawked in disbelief, no longer concealing his curious glances. Devon pulled and picked at his new blazer with much ire. Three buttons appeared in the center of the boxy item of clothing and promptly fastened themselves. Devon’s abdomen and self-proclaimed “rock-hard abs” were concealed by the jacket while the top half of the blazer allowed for a triangle of view of his dress shirt. To complete his new expensive outfit, two black ribbons appeared on either side of his neck. Gracefully, they pirouetted around each other and promptly fastened a tight knot, leaving a spiffy black bowtie just under Devon’s Adam’s Apple. As a final touch, a purple strand of satin formed around the young man’s waist of all things. It wrapped around his obliques and banded over his lower back, creating a brand new indigo cumberbund and finalizing Devon’s extravagant uniform.

To finalize Garrett’s much less-invasive changes, a suit jacket of his own materialized and gently wrapped itself around his upper body. A checkerboard of green and white squares covered the illustrious, new fabric. He moved his arms around in it and was surprised to find that it felt light and breathable. Garrett’s eyes fell back onto Devon, who looked like a deer in headlights. Neither knew what to say. The strangest part was the fact that Devon’s pants were so tight - tight enough that Garrett could even see his balls all bunched up in the front. What was that called again? A camel toe? A moose-knuckle? Devon Kearney, one of the douchiest jocks in school, had an actual moose-knuckle. Before Garrett could stop himself, a small chuckle escaped his lips. 

“You think this is fucking funny?” Devon snarled before immediately placing a hand on Garrett’s chest and forcefully shoving him into the wall. For a body three-quarters as tall as it once was, he still retained quite a lot of strength. 

Garrett was petrified. “No, no, Devon, I-”

“This is all your fault somehow!” Devon roared, now inches from Garrett’s face. “Of course, being paired with Garrett Carmicheal of all people would result in some fucking weird nerdy black magic shit!” He tugged at his dapper uniform in disgust. The only remnant of his street clothes was the baseball cap still on his head. “I look like such a fucking dork!” 

Devon was speechless. It was disturbing to see the jock’s unflappable, cocky exterior completely shattered, replaced by flagrant rage. “Devon, I-” 

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't pound the shit out of you!” 

“Devon, no…stop!” Garrett stuttered, overcome with fear. 

Then, the strangest thing happened. Instantly, Devon obeyed the command. He released his tight grip on Garrett’s sternum and stepped back in an almost robotic fashion. “Huh?”

“My sincerest apologies, sir,” Devon replied, placing his muscular arms to his side and standing up as straight as possible. He shook his head. “Wuh, why did I…do that?” 

Garrett wasn’t sure how to react. Instead, he just focused on catching his breath and peering down at his disoriented comrade. It was wild to think that Devon, the 6’4” tall linebacker who towered over Garrett in history class, had been reduced to a meager 5’8” height. Even crazier was the fact that he actually obeyed a command. 

POP! POP!

It took a moment for Garrett to realize that the two sharp pings had actually been his top two shirt buttons flying loose. “My shirt…” was all he could say as he wordlessly glanced down at his now, partially-exposed chest. Instead of seeing a flat chest and distinct collar bone, he was surprised to see that his pecs were actually protruding out? And they were still inflating!

“Goodness gracious!” Devon exclaimed before putting a hand over his mouth. 

The two boys could only watch helplessly while Garrett’s chest continued inflating. His pecs were a statement now - two growing muscular slabs, as sturdy as bricks, that tempted with their masculinity. Short, spindly dark chest hairs sprouted up in the center, which had now formed a small chasm. Although Garrett was enticed, he was unbelievably confused. A scrawny geek like him wasn’t supposed to have tits like this! He’d never even set foot in a gym. Or maybe he had? After all, it must’ve taken a decade’s worth of vigorous exercise to get pecs this round and supple. They were so huge that even his nipples had been pushed to the side and had puffed out, now each closely resembling the tip of a baby’s bottle. They were so sensitive too. He could imagine them tensing up every time his French cuffs grazed them or whenever he would give them loving squeezes in private. In fact, he could recall they gave him some kind of unorthodox pride - seeing them perked up in every formal picture he’d ever taken. His bros would even joke and call him Kate Upton because of it. 

Garrett’s cock ascended, and noticeably tented his wool dress pants. Absent-mindedly, he ran a hand through his thick, long hair and parted it to one side - something he’d never done before. Of course, the hair didn’t stick due to the lack of product and instead, it just hung there as a gnarled mess with most of it flattened down and the other half sticking straight up like a porcupine’s quills. “God, what is happening to me,” Garrett huffed as he impulsively grabbed at his bulge. 

“It appears you’re changing, sir,” Devon aptly replied, his voice sounding a lot more monotone. 

“I…I really am,” Garrett replied, his voice nearly crescendoing into a moan as he gave his bulge a shake. “I look different, don’t I? More cleaned up, eh? More prim and proper. More mature, even.”

“T-that you do,” Devon confirmed, stuttering his words as he was forced to swallow a snarky rebuttal. He was losing his will to be a contrarian. Instead, his disposition was becoming far more accommodating and congenial, accompanied by an enhancing vocabulary. “Me too!” he pouted, his monotone voice once again possessing his familiar churlishness. “I hate this tux thing I’m dressed in. I don’t want to look mature! Although spectacular, my regalia is quite oleaginous, isn’t it? GAHH! What am I saying?!” 

Garrett gazed back up at Devon, or rather peered down at him - the fear and frustration was evident on the other teen’s distraught face. He also appeared to have put on a few more pounds somehow. His growing arms and pec muscles took on a far more squishy shape and his tight stomach crafted by years of high school football had a much pudgier contour to it. 

“GUHH!” Garrett roared, at a low register, similar to Devon’s voice, realizing the changes were far from over. Two shockwaves of blood surged through his arms, immediately filling them with volatility. A pair of massive, bodybuilder-sized biceps gradually inflated within the confines of the bespoke twill shirt. Garrett could only watch transfixed as his skinny, noodle arms - the things he’d hated the most about himself - became nothing of the sort. The muscles in his forearms followed suit as they pulled apart and tightened up with protein-laden muscle, becoming permanent, cylindrical-shaped obtrusions in every shirt he would ever wear. Around fifteen seconds later, Garrett’s barrel-sized arms were now tastefully concealed beneath the tight, stretchy fabric of his dress shirt. Mercifully, his golden cufflinks remained intact and undisturbed, their dazzling opulence a necessary accentuation of his rigid wrists. Garrett was in awe. Even his hands looked manlier - they looked more plump and more formidable somehow. His nails were perfectly manicured and his digits must’ve doubled in size, dropping their nimble slimness in favor of a more boxing glove-like shape. 

A wave of growth undulated through his abdomen as it began to slowly extend forward to a similar breadth of his mighty pecs. With it came two distinct pops, but this time it came from deep within his abs. It felt like he was flexing abdominal muscles that had never made themselves known before. To confirm his suspicion, the two pops multiplied into four and then six until concluding on eight square-shaped indentations etched into his abdomen. Bespoke twill felt incredible against his brand new eight-pack. “God, I’m really filling out, huh?” Garrett smirked as an impulsive affirmation to himself. 

“Yes, I am too,” Devon answered nervously. 

Garrett glanced down and the first thing he noticed about Devon was the bulbous sphere that his belly had become. It wasn’t like he was obese or anything, but to call Devon a jock would be laughably inaccurate. This stomach of his had to be at least fifty pounds and it jutted straight out like a boulder. It didn’t sag low like a belly normally would, it hung high and tall, suspended by hidden, rigid muscle. Something told Garrett it would only get bigger.

“AGH!” Garrett yelped as he felt two muscles viciously tingle each of his shoulders before they began to stretch upward. A pair of glorious trapezius muscles flared out, giving him a menacing hood of muscle around his neck similar to a king cobra. Quickly, their immensity made his small, boyish head and mop of brown, unkempt bowl cut look extremely out of place. As Garrett’s trap muscles finished their transition into ones that a bodybuilder would envy, he attempted to turn his head 90 degrees, but found that to be quite a challenge. His neck too had also stretched wider to compete with the overgrown atoll of his trap muscles. Eliminating the soreness in his new muscular neck, Garrett rocked it back and forth and felt his bones and veins snap into place. The process sent a giant tear through the back of his Star Wars tie, whose lopsided Windsor knot had also fared no match for Garrett’s expanding, meaty neck and shoulder. It now hung loosely, dangling precariously over his massive tits about to plop to the ground.

“Pardon me sir, your tie is askew,” Devon piped up.

Before Garrett could react, his portly acquaintance gingerly removed the tie from his figure and was running it through his hands. He blinked and all of a sudden, Devon’s hands were concealed beneath a pair of satin white gloves. Paired with that, his hands looked larger too - like two baseball mitts. 

“What is with this tie?” Devon added, staring at the Star Wars Mandalorian emblems on the tie. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, it’s my good luck tie,” Garrett replied. “I wore it for…the interview…” He trailed off for a moment as his memories of an interview grew a little hazier. They were both here for some reason, but this seemed like a strange situation for an interview. “Have you always been wearing gloves?” It was a straightforward thing for him to ask, but he genuinely was curious.

“Yeah, it’s a part of the uniform,” Devon nodded although his brow furrowed with confusion over his own comment. It was as if he didn’t know what he was going to say next. 

“Okay,” Garrett replied intently, giving Devon a snide smirk. His cock bobbed in his trousers as he thought of the idea of a football player bending to his whim and being involuntarily supportive. 

Devon’s face didn’t show much more emotion. Instead, he was putting his new man-hands to work some magic on the tattered tie. As he rolled up the tie, the array of Mandalorian emblems began to fade. First, the helmet’s outline faded before diffusing in all directions and melting into the navy blue coloration of the tie. In some miraculous animation, Garrett watched as the colors danced into each other before brightening until they reached a divine, subdued seafoam green. With a firm shake from Devon’s hands, the tie fattened up and lost any trace of its former self. 

“What did you do?” Garrett asked, his heart sunk as his favorite tie from one of his favorite movies was gone forever.

“Hermés,” Devon said, answering a question never asked. “Mint is quite the nice touch for the outfit too.” He handed it to Garrett who just looked at it dumbly. “You know how to tie a tie don’t you?” Devon asked smugly, his voice sounding much more…posh and preppy. “We don’t want that Cliff fellow to be mad.” 

“Yeah for sure,” Garrett replied as he unconsciously wrapped the tie around his collar. In only a few seconds and a few deft maneuvers, his hands nimbly created a Windsor knot. 

“I taught you well,” Devon applauded, his eyebrow crooked as he dissected his statement. Still, his mouth continued its whimsical dialogue. “You can tie a tie as fast as I can tie my shoes. Or at least as fast as I used to be able to tie them.” He gestured at his bass drum of a belly and chuckled at himself. 

Garrett couldn’t help but snicker too. Devon’s bubbly nature was somewhat infectious. It was kind of hot - imagining the portly ex-jock catering to his needs, but also being a genuinely nice person. That would be a nice change.  

“Isn’t that better?” Devon asked. A faint panic still permeated his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure why he was asking these questions and indulging Garrett like this. 

“Yeah,” Garrett smiled with a conceited grin as he ran a hand through his floppy, greasy mop of crumpled hair. The movement caused more strands to flop down successfully, causing them to be quaffed straight back as if they were drenched in gel. Garrett didn’t pay it any mind. He just enjoyed how perfectly his mint tie complemented the checkered pattern of his blazer. This nearly-gaudy attire - he wanted to hate it - but he couldn’t. It accentuated his muscles perfectly! Oh yeah. His muscles. “I feel like a million bucks!” Garrett said with an honorary flex. 

“Good, good,” Devon jovially replied. In accordance with his jolliness, a new layer of fat formed around his stomach and stretched out his resplendent tuxedo even further. A wave of compassion and maturity overcame him, replacing his adolescent panic. Looking at a burgeoning young stud like Garrett made him feel…proud in a way? It made him feel oddly paternal, as if their ages were different or something? “You have to look your best for your special day,” Devon added, before grimacing at how cringe he sounded. Still, it felt eerily correct to assist Garrett with his newfound sartorial knowledge. 

“My special day?” Garrett asked before smirking once more. “That’s right. It…is my special day. I just can’t remember why.” 

“Me neither,” Devon admitted. His adolescent rage towards Garrett had faded completely. It was impossible to get mad a young, promising stud like him. Instead, he glared down at his new rotund body ruefully. “I look like a fucking gumdrop,” he pouted as he poked and prodded at his round belly and pecs. He craned his stubby neck to see that even his broad, hulking thighs made his dress pants look vacuum-sealed. It reminded him of wearing padded football pants. His chest was ridiculously huge too - his pecs were like two airbags resting atop a giant, protrusive boulder. Thankfully, his pecs didn’t sag like other older men’s man-boobs often did. They just hung there, taunting Devon with their undeniable stoutness. It was enthralling in a way - the idea of his cannonball-shaped stomach on display in every shirt he ever wore. That made him feel so…mature, like a father figure of sorts. His corpulence, unapologetically masculine, equally disgusted and excited him. At least his plump body looked well-dressed and concealed perfectly by this uniform. Devon could picture so many men his age, or…his father’s age, who didn’t know how to dress themselves - the type to have the undersides of their bellies exposed in public and who wore thin, ill-fitting t-shirts with visible, nasty sweat stains. Devon felt some strange pleasure in the fact that his clothes were tailored just for him. It made him feel much more…powerful that way. This well-dressed, paunchy body of his was an extension of his own masculinity. 

Garrett was lost in his own self-indulgent thoughts as he inspected his own chest. He gave his nipples a tweak and winced at how sensitive they were. Rubbing the back of his meaty hand against the expensive fabric, he could feel a  God, he loved being a man. A huge, hunky, muscular, young, confident man. One whose body jutted out in every direction in his formal clothes - kinda like Devon’s did, only Garrett’s were far more perky and traditionally attractive. He’d never clamored over his body like that before. It was quite the rush - a premonition of his constantly evolving virility and an extension of his own masculinity. 

“Wait, do you hear that?” Garrett asked abruptly, causing Devon to return back to reality. The two of them froze and sure enough, they realized that there was now an abundance of noise emanating above them. A faint bassline and drums could be heard accompanied by a moderately-loud chatter of people conversing. “There’s people upstairs.” 

Devon turned white as a ghost. “Oh no, oh shit dude, people can’t see me like…like this!” he cried, holding up his pudgy, balloon-shaped belly in rife disgust. 

“Yeah, you look like a blimp,” Garrett chuckled. For a moment, he almost regretted saying it, but his fear of Devon was dissipating. They were equals now - no longer bound by archaic notions of a teenage hierarchy. 

“Manners please,” Devon retorted, primping his suit. He didn’t appear to be that offended by the comment though, considering he didn't give Garrett any vicious retaliation. In fact, he seemed to be captivated by his tuxedo jacket. “My coattails. They nearly stretch to the floor!” he said with dopey astonishment, stretching his neck to inspect the way the coat draped over his pot-bellied frame. “They kinda look like a superhero’s cape. It’s quite…marvelous, isn’t it?” 

“Whoa, your voice! It sounds British!” Garrett laughed. “Would you like some tea and crumpets, governor?” 

Devon was not amused. “Sir, please,” he huffed, far more displeased than angry. “I don’t think it’s quite appropriate to make fun of my accent. I surely don't mock you for your deep voice.”  

A twinge of guilt pulsed through Garrett. If a jerk like Devon could learn politeness, surely he could too.  “Right, right, I’m sorry,” he said, completely oblivious while his voice lost its teenage squeak in favor of a commanding, baritone register. “I guess I never expected a football player to act so formal.” The voice that Garrett now had sounded like it belonged to a male country singer rather than a raspy 18 year old. 

“Football?” Devon gasped. He could recall playing it for a brief moment, but the memories of it all came crashing down instantly. Like a piece of paper being incinerated to ash. A man of his rotund stature certainly wouldn’t be the greatest at the sport unless he was an offensive lineman. “I have…never played football before,” Devon said, almost in a state of shock as the words left his lips. “I wouldn’t be too fast on the field. Not with a belly like…OOOFF…like this.” Without warning, fifty more pounds were piled onto Devon’s stomach, causing him to look like even more of a portly freak. This monster gut looked ready to rip free from his uniform at any moment, but thankfully it had swiftly stretched with his beastly proportions to prevent that. 

“Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s not called soccer where you’re from.” 

“Huh? I…oh yes, that’s quite correct.” Devon’s head was spinning. His definition of the sport was changing. Football was nothing like it was here in the States. It was a far less violent and barbaric sport in the U.K. but most importantly, it was an excuse to get a pint with the lads and watch his favorite team whenever he went back home. Or wait, wasn’t this home? Everything was getting fuzzy. 

Garrett was feeling the same way as he zoned out for a moment, gazing down at his sophisticated clothes. Or rather hunky, sophisticated body - the clothes were just an extension of himself. “Well, I think we should head upstairs and talk to that Cliff guy and maybe he can help us.” 

“Ah Cliff, what a fine gentleman!” Devon perked up, like a robot coming to life. His deep, Welsh accent teeming with merriment. “Yes, let’s!” 

Garrett tried his hardest not to snicker as Devon led the way. His bouncy, blubbery figure certainly didn’t move the way it once did. At first, he clearly was trying to move at the speed of a highschool quarterback, but his gait was reduced to a sluggish waddle. Something else had also changed about Devon. It was his back - which looked quite broader for some reason. Paired with his angular shoulders, his upper body was turning into quite an imposing-shaped rectangle. For a man of smaller stature, his figure was still quite imposing. 

“I’m sure everyone is waiting to see you.” Devon said merrily as he reached the wooden stairs.

“Ah that’s right,” Garrett replied and a burst of dopamine suddenly hit his brain, promptly inhibiting any more questioning of their predicament. It was his special day. Being the center of attention was something he craved - people all gathered around him, listening to him talk in length - it was like adrenaline to him : a formative adrenaline. He cherished all the accolades his hulking muscles would receive. From friends, from family members, from romantic partners. After all, he’d put in years of hard work!  

Garrett was aghast as he walked up the steps behind his paunchy companion. Devon already had the tight, muscle butt of a high school quarterback, but the ascent up the staircase immediately began shaping it into an enormous cushion that was impossible to ignore. With each step upward, his glutes flared outward in all directions, stretching his wool dress pants like lycra. Inflating like balloons, Devon’s mountainous asscheeks lost some of their muscled firmness. They rhymically bobbed up and down over and over, indicative of their increased fat concentration. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, two mounds the size of basketballs and as wide as pillows had replaced Devon’s former ass. He appeared to be none the wiser as he turned sideways for a moment and readjusted his cummerbund.

Garrett froze. His cock had risen to full mast and he hated it. Illuminated by a single overhead light, Devon’s mammoth figure cast a marvelous silhouette. The equal breadth of his glorious, distended stomach and protruding suited buttocks were so oddly compelling. And stupidly erotic. Then again, Garrett had been hard since the changes started…or for the past hour while he’d been getting ready. Yeah. That was right. Dressing up always got his hormones firing. 

“It seems like only yesterday you had gotten into college,” Devon reminisced as he turned his stubby neck up to Garrett who climbed to the top step. 

“College?” Garrett asked. He hadn’t even graduated high school. “I don’t think-”

“Look at yourself, Garrett, ” Devon boomed. The newfound sagacity in his voice sent a shiver up Garrett’s spine. “You’ve really changed from the small, precocious lad you once were. You heed advice and apply it into your own life. In university and in bodybuilding. Why, I remember when I used to be larger than you. Hah hah hah! That’s not quite the case anymore, is it?” 

“Bodybuilding? College?” Garrett was dumbfounded. Two retrospections ran parallel in his brain. In one, he was a teenage misanthrope who would much rather keep to himself and his hobbies while another, more forceful side of him savored the attention of being a heartthrob, junior bodybuilder. He craved it, actually. He wanted to loathe the feeling, but he couldn’t. Everything around him was spinning out of control so beautifully, but something told him that this was a very good thing.

“Why yes,” Devon replied, “We’re all so proud of you. You have that ambition that’s going to get you very far in life.” His voice cracked a bit. “I wish I had more of that when I was a lad.”  

Before Garrett could stop himself, he’d already wrapped his arms around the portly man.  Given their height difference, he’d had to lean down slightly, but he didn’t even realize he’d done that. Devon quickly reciprocated and a mutual wave of growth radiated through the two of them. It was a weird burst of unbridled sympathy the two had never felt for each other once. But it was real. 

Firstly, Devon’s belly gained a final thirty more pounds, swelling larger than a yoga ball and tight as a bass drum. At one point, he’d competed in bodybuilding competitions just like Garrett was…or was going to. But now, a stout aging man like Devon much preferred to possess a distended, glorious muscle gut formed from decades of hard work and newfound relaxation. His body type was truly one of a kind - he had to make his own custom clothes for it too - and nothing made him more enthusiastic that Garrett appeared to be following the same fate of growing gigantic. Finishing its inflation, Devon’s belly pressed tightly against Garrett’s abdomen, which was starting to shrink in exchange. Any remaining pudge Garrett had was trimmed away and repurposed into a lean, X-shaped of a competition-ready bodybuilder. His nonexistent butt also began to change, promptly losing its shapelessness as it inflated into two boulders. His rear was only around three-quarters the size of Devon’s, but it had equal strength. Garrett had an enormous, perky muscle butt formed by nearly a decade of strenuous squatting and consistent training. In tandem, Garrett’s slender thighs beefed up, becoming a set of poles that could effortlessly support his hulking frame. Subconsciously, he rocked back and forth on them and the new muscles tightened into pillars as thick as stone. 

“Thank you,” Devon replied as the two pulled apart. His eyes were glassy and his face had a myriad of more pronounced lines on it now. He was so happy now, happier than he had ever been from his life as a football player. Being a British butler, a man of superlative etiquette, and passing eclectic style and machismo onto a man like Garrett - that was his new purpose. “You’ve become the man deep down that I knew you always could be.”

“Of course,” Garrett smiled. He felt like his heart was going to explode. While studying Devon’s new venerable face and more mature sunken eyes, he blinked and all of a sudden, his baseball cap disappeared! Not only that, Devon’s head of vibrant blonde hair had vanished too, leaving behind a faint horseshoe of hair. He pictured Devon as having a younger, boyish face in his head, but those memories were crinkling away as he looked into this new, mature man.“Your…your hat,” was all Garrett could say. 

Faint wrinkles texturized themselves around Devon’s face as he smiled. “Yes, the bowler hat felt a little unfitting on a very formal occasion like this.” 

“No, you were wearing a…” Garrett trailed off, immediately forgetting that a bald, astute gentleman like Devon would ever wear a baseball cap. That seemed too…juvenile for him. Whenever he did wear a hat, it was usually a top hat or something. Even more paralyzing to Garrett was the fact that this man in front of him didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He felt like a family member. Like a mentor of sorts. It made sense. After all, he’d known Devon his entire life. A hazy memory traveled through Garrett’s brain. He could remember being young, back when Devon had a full head of hair and he’d wanted so badly to impress him. Now he had and the family butler couldn’t be more proud. Wait, family butler? That seemed correct for some reason, but it make any-

“Have a fun night, kid,” Devon smiled, uniquely giving the words a staccato affectation with his charming British accent, as he opened up the wooden door to the banquet hall. 

Bright lights inundated Garrett’s corneas, like he’d stepped into heaven. When his eyes adjusted, he could make out around what appeared to be one hundred or so people occupying the previously vacant hall. Their attire was ritzy - like nothing Garrett had ever seen. Women adorned with beautiful, stylish dresses paired next to men dressed up in bespoke three-piece suits of various colors. A multitude of tuxedoed waitstaff were maneuvering in between the crowd of affluent guests. All parties involved seemed to be engrossed in pleasant, light-hearted conversation. 

Seeing them all sent a tidal wave of fear through Garrett and the same teenage nerves he thought he’d banished inundated his brain. “Devon, there are so many-”

He turned, but Devon had already begun conversing with a crowd of five male waiters nearby who were dressed in identical tuxedos. He wanted to chuckle at how Devon’s cartoonishly massive butt eclipsed his view of the men he was talking to, but he couldn’t. In his peripheral vision, he could see people start noticing him. All the confidence he’d once had vanished instantly replaced by his familiar teenage nerves. He hated crowds - hated them so much. And now here he was trapped in the middle of one of the largest ones he’d ever seen. 

Just as Garrett took his first step forward to try and slink towards the wall, he nearly collided with the silhouette of a huge, imposing man who nearly knocked him to his feet. Luckily, his reflexes were quick and he jumped back on his heels. 

“Vince, there you are!” thundered the familiar, lofty stranger. It was Cliff - his interviewer of all people? He also looked more put together than before. His massive pecs were thinly concealed by a tight dress shirt preventing any chest hair from peeking through. At his side was a breathtaking entourage of beautiful guests, a group of men wearing flashy, velvety suits and a group of women wearing extravagant, ruched dresses. “We were wondering what was taking you so long!” 

“Huh? My name’s not-” Garrett stopped. His deep voice, almost as low as Cliff’s, startled him and reminded him how manly he sounded. Before he could analyze it, two new heels abruptly shot out of Garrett’s sneakers, launching him a half-inch higher into the air - allowing him to become eye level with Cliff - the man who’d previously towered over him. He wanted to tremble, but there was something so comforting about the older man’s face. It made him feel seen. There was a broad, beaming smile on Cliff’s brick-shaped jaw, emanating the same sage-like reverence as Devon had. 

“There’s the man of the hour!” another well-dressed man around three-quarters the size of Garrett exclaimed. By this point, the group of guests had swarmed all around him, rendering any chance of escape impossible. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of chest, from stress and a weird, weird sense of familiarity with these people, especially one of the men in front of him. His face was devoid of wrinkles and his forehead devoid of furrows. Must’ve been a lot of Botox. Even his hairline mirrored Garrett’s, which was impressive given he looked to be in his sixties or so. “Put ‘err there, Vince!” the dapper stranger exclaimed, extending out his hand. 

Garrett acquiesced, not wanting to be rude. He didn’t realize how clammy his hands were until they were against this man’s dry ones. “Thanks, Uncle James. It’s so good to see you,” he replied before flinching at his weird, automatic response. 

The man didn’t seem to care about being Garrett’s uncle. It did seem to make sense though. He looked like Cliff, only a few years older. “Look at that! He already got himself a Rolex! Lookin’ sharp, son!” 

“A…what?” Garrett looked down at his right wrist and sure enough, there was a watch with a rich, emerald hue that looked nothing short of expensive. Upon further inspection, he realized it was the same green shade as his preppy checkered blazer and it had the same eye-catching shimmer of his cufflinks. Fuck. That turned him on for some reason. Luxury. Power. Being all dressed up. “Yeah, doesn’t it have a marvelous sparkle to it?” Garrett added, unable to contain his excitement. His voice sounded different now - a little more pompous. He was really holding the vowels of words in his mouth for longer now. It reminded him of the rich kids from his high school. Wait, where did he go to school again?

A lady in a lavender velvet dress holding a bubbling glass of champagne spoke next. She used big gestures to the group, as if she was showing Garrett off like a trophy. “Our son - the Yale graduate,” she declared, her voice sounding as proud as Cliff’s and as proud as Devon’s. “I can’t believe he finally did it.” 

“Top of his class too!” Cliff added, sipping on a glass of scotch. “Don’t forget about that, Pauline.” 

“Of course,” the woman smiled. “We never doubted our son for a second.”

“Graduated? From Yale? No, I’m…” Garrett sputtered as the final realization hit him. This was a party. All for him. And Cliff and Pauline. They were…his parents? That didn’t seem right, but Garrett had trouble recalling any other alternative. He could recall glimpses of his upbringing in opulent rooms, going to high-class events and developing a sartorial affinity. He now truly felt like an adult just like them. His parents’ positive words echoed in his head, filling him up with joy. For the first time in a long time, Garrett felt proud of himself. His memories of a recluse were fading while recollections of being a valedictorian and relaxed, sociable young athlete took their place. 

“Looks like he’s been hitting the gym at the same time!” Uncle James piped in. “What’s your current weight?”

“280,” Garrett replied and instinctively performed a front lat spread to the group who all laughed pompously. 

“Don’t get him started,” Pauline replied with a playful tap on Garrett’s shoulder. 

Another man spoke up who looked muscular too, although not as muscular as Garrett. “Even during football, you were never half this size. You really took to bodybuilding during college! I can’t believe I’m looking at the same kid!”

Garrett beamed with pride and his posh accent swallowed up his old one completely. “Once I knew football wasn’t in the cards for me, I decided to take weightlifting more seriously and it really helped me.”

“Isn’t that great,” one of the ladies in the crowd smiled. 

“He sure takes after his old man!” Cliff smiled, wrapping his arm around his equally-strapping son. 

Garrett froze as he fully took in the breadth of his alleged father. For lack of a better word, he was just so manly. Even being a man in his fifties, he still had some incredible size to him. He must’ve been sixty pounds heavier than Garrett, which was nothing short of impressive. Cliff’s cerulean three-piece suit looked ready to rip off. Garrett could recall some strong feelings about that: the idea of getting to a massive size where all of his suits had to be custom-made to contain his sheer width. He could faintly recall a short, plump man measuring him with yellow tape as he crafted measurements for him.  

Holy shit. That man was his family butler. The one he’d just seen earlier. What was his name again? Acrid guilt pulsed through Garrett’s head. This butler had been with his family his entire life and he couldn’t even remember his name. Even Garrett’s own name was growing harder to remember, but he knew one thing for sure. His name certainly wasn’t Vincent. 

“Any refills on champagne?” chirped a familiar ebullient voice. 

“Yes please, thank you Reginald,” one of the ladies chirped back as the butler filled up her tall glass. 

Garrett turned and sure enough, his family butler was right there: Reginald Chapman - a 400 pound intimidating colossus who was actually a kind-hearted giant. 

Garrett tried not to laugh. This whole situation was so far-fetched. It reminded him of that one Rick & Morty episode where the family in the show had gained memories of a butler who they thought had always been part of their family. But this situation was different from a silly cartoon like that. It wasn’t like Reginald lived with them although he was over at the house working full-time. Hell, he’d even gone on family vacations with the Atkinsons. He’d even brought his husband along. It had been a strange sight - seeing the family butler and his equally-large middle-aged husband on the beach, but it had been illuminating. But still, Reginald had his own life. He was simply the Atkinsons’ staff member. A lifelong, steadfast one at that. Happy to cater to Garrett’s needs whenever necessary and give him advice on life and bodybuilding. It seemed weird to have a private butler, but not for a family like the Atkinsons who were filthy rich. 

For a moment, Garrett found that somewhat exciting - the idea of a massive man catering to his needs, but it wasn’t weird like that. Even with his portly figure, Reginald had been quite an inspiration for Garrett to take bodybuilding seriously. He’d wanted to grow - to get as big as one of his idols - a kind-hearted Englishman who was like his second father. In fact, it had been a conversation on a Bahamian beach with Reginald and his burly partner Oliver that had made Garrett realize he was bisexual - a whole separate epiphany.  

“I assume the college grad over here needs a fresh glass too!” Reginald piped up, producing a clean wine glass for Garrett. He poured the perfect amount of the liquid into it and smiled. “He’s truly one of a kind isn’t he?” 

The group smiled and laughed in agreement. Garrett took notice of the other patrons in the background who were also turning his way. Reginald had the volume of a foghorn after all. In the crowd, Garrett could make out a few guys and girls his age - some of the friends from college. Some of them were really attractive. This really was quite the celebration. And it was all for him.

“Dom perignon, sir,” Reginald smiled, handing Garrett the glass, his fifty-six year old face glowing with adulation. 

Garrett took a sip and smiled - the expensive liquor tasted incredible. He swore he could feel the bubbles fizzing in his mouth after he swallowed. 

“Raise your glasses, please!” Reginald boomed. The guests immediately obeyed, all with smiles on their faces as they stared warmly at Garrett. “To Vincent Atkinson!” Reginald thundered as the background chatter quieted down. “A young man who has changed my life as much as I hope I’ve changed his!” 

There was that name again. Garrett wanted to reply, but instead a warm, compassionate feeling overcame him. He was touched by the sweetness of the family butler - a man who inspired him every day. 

A cheer from all of the guests echoed through the banquet hall. They all took a sip except for Reginald who just warmly smiled. “Have a glorious night you all,” he said with a bow of his head before swiftly walking away to tend to other patrons. That’s right. Reginald was on the clock. That enthusiastic, diligent butler. Garrett watched as his plump body bounced within the confines of his long, dangling coattails as as he sidled over to another crowd. 

“Vince has grown up so fast!”  chimed in a male patron as the chatter started back up. “He’s sure got that Atkinson family chin!”

“Wait until he gets those Atkinson family veneers!” chimed in another who received a chastising shove from his wife. 

“Family…chin?” Garrett mumbled as he felt a bubbling sensation emanating from the bottom of his face. It was the weirdest feeling, like someone was popping bubble wrap under his chin. The final piece of him was changing - his face. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to see it happen in real time. He just had to. “Excuse me, please,” Garrett said before promptly darting away before any patron could stop him. With each distinct footstep, his dress shoes grew more and more glossy, echoing throughout the opulent hall. Luckily, he located a bathroom nearby and promptly slunk inside, but not before feeling his broad shoulders scrape against the sides of the old, wooden doorframe. Garrett skulked to the mirror a panicked, breathy mess and promptly froze with disbelief at his strapping reflection. 

Everything about him was huge. Unbelievably huge.

He turned to his side and ogled over his humongous chest and back jutting out in either direction. Even his biceps looked prime to rip right out of his checkered suit jacket. Lower on his body, his bulge and tight, muscle ass also jutted out from his midsection, quivering with his movements, both exuding undoubtable manliness. Now in complete privacy, Garrett’s cock rose back up to full mast. His body - it reminded him of Cliff’s - his new father - unyieldingly masculine and provocative. He was burning up under this sexy yet stifling outfit his butler had picked out. 

“I’m an Atkninson,” he said to himself, eager to look like just his father - his idol.

With a distinct set of cracks, his stubby chin erupted forward, immediately doubling its width and acquiring a brand new shovel-shape. Any awkward half-grown teenage facial hair vanished with it, endowing Garrett with a clean-shaven, spotless chin accompanied by the subtle aroma of expensive aftershave. Next his lips inflated like two balloons, puffing out to an extremely kissable level. His teeth straightened and became a pure shade of white. Transfixed by his reflection, Garrett watched in wonder as his unsightly pimples and zits were eradicated from his face. In one swift blink, his eyes changed from hazel to a bright blue accompanied by a slightly thicker yet attractive nose. Propelled down by an invisible wave, Garrett’s unkempt bowl cut was finally subdued and all of the long, strands shortened to a preppy, professional length. An expertly-placed layer of gel coated the young man’s greasy brown hair, slicking it back in an instant, taking off a few inches with it. 

“Mmm fuck,” Garrett huffed as he swore he felt a gust of air rush over his head. A glorious tidal wave of bright blond hair came next, swallowing up his old bushy brunette forever. He wanted to be mad at how preppy he looked, but it didn’t make sense why. This was how he’d dressed his whole life. 

“I’m an Atkinson,” Garrett repeated, hard as a rock while he watched his boyish features mature ever so slightly, eradicating anyone ever mistaking him for a teenager ever again and aging him up in a man in his early 20s. That wasn’t who he was after all. Everyone was here tonight for his college graduation. 

Garrett was treated to a final, illustrious animation of his altering face in the mirror as any remaining “Garrett-hood” he had was eliminated. His hairline pulled down slightly making his forehead less prominent, his eyes grew a little closer together, and his ears shrunk ever so slightly. And then as if Garrett had been staring at some magic-eye poster, it all clicked into place. His handsome face looked just like a younger version of his father. “Fuck yeah, I’m…Vincent Atkinson,” he trembled, his voice rife with anticipation. 

That utterance - it sent a shockwave through Vincent. In an instant, an invisible sonic boom erupted through the room. It forced down his eyes and locked all of his handsome new attributes in place - never to be taken from him. Simultaneously, his rock-hard cock became flaccid. When Vincent reopened his eyes, he was left staring at his reflection in the mirror and there was a watery sheen over his aquamarine-shaded eyes. He was on the verge of crying for some reason? He blinked a few times and the tears only welled up further in his eyes. The lifetime of Garrett Carmicheal disappeared, replaced by a brand new handsome stud. Forever. 

The instant Vincent’s mind transformed, the bathroom door flung open and in stepped a familiar, enormous man. 

He flinched. His eyes were still watering. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why did he feel so sentimental all of a sudden? 

Vincent’s father’s stern face immediately softened as he sidled up to his son. “Hey, hey, it’s alright to cry at these things, Vince,” he soothed his father as he wrapped his tree trunk of an arm around his son’s shoulders. 

Vincent sighed and a single tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop it. The emotions were so much. He couldn’t believe what he’d been through. All of the schooling and now this - a graduation: which felt like the destruction of his youth. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he admitted, his voice hardly trembling. “It’s just so much. I can’t believe I’m like…like a real adult now.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes the emotions can be too much to endure. Come on, bring it in,” Vincent’s dad said, pulling his son in close for a mighty bear hug, which was immediately reciprocated. Immense strength radiated between the Atkinson men as they squeezed each other tenderly as hard as they could. The immeasurable comfort of his father - the man who had helped shape him into the confident, buff specimen he was meant to be - was so much to bear. An involuntary whimper escaped Vincent’s lips as he rested his head on top of one of his father’s strong shoulders. “I love you, kid. I’m so proud of you. We all are!” Vincent’s father added as the two released each other. He wiped a tear of his own from his own face and exhaled. 

“Thanks dad,” Vincent replied before coughing and standing up straight again. He sighed and re-flattened one of his French cuffs - obsessed with the idea that his clothes were just an extension of his masculinity. Formalwear was always such a confidence-booster. Reginald had helped inspire that in him. “I think I’m alright now,” Vincent smiled. “I really needed that.”

“Anytime,” Vincent’s dad replied and the two of them headed back to the bathroom door, their two muscular butts both wider than the doorway. “How’s it feel to be a graduate?”

“Incredible,” Vincent smiled. “Like the world is at my fingertips.” 

[mycolorscheme]

tw suicide i guess but it's from a research viewpoint mainly and also abuse within the nest. also this connects to the sunshine court bear with me

i wrote this whole essay a year ago on suicide clusters in schools and it was focused on high schoolers but a lot of my research came from adolescents as a whole and some of my sources were about college students and i learned a lot about how different factors can create suicidal behavior such as academic pressure, athletic pressure, etc and the combination of many factors only exacerbates this which is all pretty self explanatory but suicide clusters is the phenomenon of when a couple suicides leads to a domino effect of suicides and suicidal attempts. a mainstream pop culture example would be heathers (except the initial suicides were murder coverups) but on a more local scale this happens at a lot of schools and my high school was an example of it. part of why this happens is because it is (unfortunately) common for people to have suicidal ideation and tendencies, but once someone around these people commits suicide, it begins to feel like more of a tangible reality. in addition, being in an environment where even one suicides or death has occurred can often be very depressing and soul crushing and horrible and decrease people's mental states further.

as someone who did all this research and wrote a 10 page paper on this stuff, reading the sunshine court was incredibly interesting. these ravens are ultimately so traumatized and brainwashed beyond belief. they do not realize that they have been indoctrinated and have been part of a cult and they spent so long without being able to talk to anyone who could tell them how messed up the nest is.

like. they were not able to communicate with their families from the day they entered the nest. they were living on 18 hour schedules. they did not leave the nest unless necessary or interact with people outside of their team or ever really seen sunlight. that is beyond absolutely insane.

and their king, riko, kills himself (ironically also in a murder coverup, bringing it back to heathers). and then they are sent home to people they haven't talked to in years. and they don't know how to adjust back to normal life.

so of course they are lashing out. and it does not surprise me that they are trying to end their lives.

and then another one of their teammates kills themselves. and then another one. and then another one tries but is found before it is too late. and it creates this chain of suicides because what do they have to live for if not their team. they are a raven though and through, and even after they graduate and leave the nest, they never really leave. so they all get placed in suicide watch.

and then they are called back for the next season. and that is the worst thing that could possibly have happened to them in terms of their mental health. to make matters worse, they have a new coach who i cannot imagine they will instantly trust. and at the same time, their old coach that they were probably so frightened of but felt like they needed is nowhere to be found. and to add on, the entire power structure of the ravens has been dismantled, and they will all fight to be at the top.

and yes a lot of them are horrible people but a lot of it is a byproduct of the environment they were forced to survive in. some were already violent while others turned to violence when it became needed. they need time to heal and to process and to come to terms with the fact that what they endured was not normal. that playing a sport at a collegiate level, even for the chance to go pro, should not mean completely devoting your entire life to the sport and nothing but the sport. that it is crucial for their mental wellbeing to experience life and relax and have fun and eat junk food every once in a while.

and while i'm so glad jean is out of there and is able to start healing, my heart goes out to the ravens who are still stuck in the nest. because yes, they have the choice to leave, but they do not have the mental capacity to even realize that that is an option.

but i hope in the next book we see them slowly start to break. that the summer they had returning to normalcy alerted something inside of them deep down that what the nest is and how the ravens operate is so fundamentally wrong and so, so messed up. and i hope that the new coach isn't a bastard. but i don't have high hopes about that. to be completely frank.

all in all, the phenomenon of suicide clusters is a big issue, and i hope that at least one person found it interesting to read about the sunshine court and the ravens through the lens of suicide clusters. if you ever need mental support, there are more resources now than ever. your life is worth so much more than you could ever even comprehend. every little dot on this planet makes a difference. i love you all.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

The last day of exams always held a sense of relief. The finish line to cross, or the light to re-emerge into, or the surface to swim towards from the depths, depending on who you asked. A sign of hell on earth finally coming to an end. Akihiko’s been doing this for three years now, and for the first time, he feels none of that relief. 

How can he? The hell he’s been living in has nothing to do with equations or essays or memorizing vocabulary. The last two weeks have been the worst in recent memory– only the murky stretch of time after Miki died even compares.

He had managed at least to finish his final test early, faster than everyone else in class. The teacher in charge of keeping an eye on them all had given him a strange look, but he accepted the test regardless and Akihiko was free to leave, early or not.

He isn’t confident in his scores, but right now he really couldn’t care less. 

Now he’s back at the hospital, right where he’s spent the majority of his time since the last full moon. If he wasn’t at school, or sleeping or bathing, he was here: in this box with Shinji and the phantom of a hypothetical cat as they hovered between ‘alive’ and ‘dead’ (that thought experiment hadn’t even come up on the damn test, which he finds unaccountably irritating).

It was a menial schedule. He studied, he ordered takeout, he did some shadow boxing now and then just to let off some steam. Sometimes he talked to the other team members when they were visiting. And he waited for Shinji to wake up.

He knows it isn’t healthy to devote all of his free time to this. He does. But Akihiko had meant what he’d said to Mitsuru: he doesn’t want Shinji to wake up alone.

There’s a nurse switching out Shinji’s IV line when Akihiko comes into the room today. It’s the same nurse that’s always here, he thinks. The nurse offers a cursory greeting, and Akihiko greets him back. He finishes his task and leaves, and Akihiko and Shinji are left by themselves.

The long silence that follows weighs heavy, just like always. Akihiko doesn’t know what to do with himself. He sits there, lost in thought, for at least a half hour.

Akihiko’s never really been one for words. He’s always lets his actions, and his fists, do the talking for him. But in this situation, that just isn’t an option. 

Words are all he’s been left with, and yet he’s barely said anything to Shinji since he was admitted. What would be the point in talking to someone who can’t respond? He’s been told by nurses, by his mother, even by Takeba, that Shinji might be able to hear him, but he just doesn’t see how that can be true.

But the strain of it all– the lack of sleep, the hours of silence, the endless uncertainty, the vertigo-inducing moments of adjustment whenever he crosses the boundary between this room and the rest of the world– must be loosening his tongue. Akihiko finds that the words just spill out.

He digs his fingers into the fabric of his slacks.

The memory of Shinji practically spitting poison in his face still makes his blood boil. Where did he get off demanding Ahikiho stop worrying about him– right after admitting to taking those drugs that had cut his life expectancy off at the knees (or at least not denying it, which was as close to admitting anything as he could almost ever get out of the stubborn jackass). 

Akihiko gets up to pace. His skin crawls and burns, his muscles feel like they’re squirming underneath. He needs to move, he needs to get this out, or he’s going to lose his mind.

He stops, his back to the bed and its occupant. He can’t even face Shinji right now.

Tears sting at the backs of his eyes. He grits his teeth and tries his damnedest not to let them fall. Even now, talking about the night that took Miki hurts like the ends of a broken bone grinding against each other– deep and jagged and nauseating. He lets out a shaky breath and bows his head, pressing a hand over his eyes.

God. He needs to get ahold of himself. The last thing he wants is for a nurse to walk in and see him like this.

[ourtearsofrain]

Slow It Down (D.R.W/S.F.K)- Chapter 1

Summary: Almost three years after escaping to New York for college, Danny finally returns to Frankenmuth for the summer, welcomed with open arms by all his family and old friends. All but one. With Sam’s apparent hatred of him, Danny must try to get through the summer with him hanging over his life like a storm cloud, darkening each day spent with their families.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Genre: ANGST, brotherly fluff

Word Count:  1.9k

Warnings: none for this ch? Some shit between Danny and Sam is alluded to but not addressed fully. Also day drinking lol

A/N: I’m so excited to share this new series with y’all, I hope you like it. The series as a whole, as well as specific dialogue/comments/thoughts, are based off a handful of angsty heartbreaking songs that I will post an “unofficial playlist” for, so look for that at the bottom of a masterlist post for this series soon! Make sure to fill out the taglist form in my bio if you want to be tagged in any updates for this or future works! Thanks for reading!

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June 19th, 2020, 5:07 pm.

It had been two years, ten months, and 15 days since Danny had spoken to Sam. Two years, ten months, and 15 days since he had felt fully whole. And two years, ten months, and 15 days full of regret. But who was counting, right?

Danny was. He had begun counting the second he boarded that plane with a one-way ticket out of Frankenmuth, headed straight for “The Big Apple” to start his life over. Away from his family, away from his high school friends and the worst of all, away from Sam. Thankfully Josh had already moved to New York the second he graduated, studying Film Production at Columbia University and practically adopting Danny the second he got there, making sure he was adjusting to the city well and spending as much time with him as their schedules allowed. Coincidentally, Josh’s former roommate had decided to move out right before Danny made the choice to go to New York, leaving the second bedroom of his apartment open for him to fill.

As the distance between Sam and him increased, Danny only became closer to the twins. Even though they had treated him like he was their younger brother ever since he moved in next to the Kiszka’s at age seven, living with Josh who called Jake on facetime every day truly made them the older brothers he had always wished for.

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

Danny removes his forehead from the cool glass of the plane window, turning to see a flight attendant standing expectantly in the isle with a too-sweet smile. “Oh, uh no I’m ok, thanks.”

“Alright then. Just letting you know we should be landing in about 20 minutes, so could you please fasten your seatbelt?”

Danny glances down, realizing he hadn’t re-buckled his belt after he had gone to the bathroom to stretch his legs and pull himself together as his family would surely be waiting for him at the luggage return. “Of course, my bad.” He re-buckles it before leaning his head back against the seat as she walks away, closing his eyes and praying that the next few months of his life would pass quickly.

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Grey suitcase, purple tag. Grey suitcase, purple tag. Grey suitcase, purple tag. Shit, there it is. Danny rushes to grab his bag, feeling claustrophobic as the luggage return fills with more and more people. Go out the door, find the car. Out the door, find the car. Drive home and pray he’s not there. It takes him mere seconds to find his parents’ car as his mom frantically waves from across the lot, grinning as she darts between the traffic the instant she sees Danny.

She tackles him in a hug as she rocks them back and forth, her grip on him crushing as he tries to keep his balance. “Oh my god you look so good, how was Junior year? Have you been eating enough? Getting out and having some fun right?”

“Hey mom.”  He locks his arms around her, hugging her just as tight as he smiles. “It was good, yes I have, and yes I do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She pulls away teary eyed, still smiling wide at him. “Oh, I know, but that’s my job. And you haven’t been home for so long, how else am I supposed to know how you’re doing?”

“Yeah… sorry about that. You know how it is, between school and work it’s hard to find the time to get back to Michigan for a long visit.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waves her hand in the air as if she were shooing away his apologies, taking Danny’s suitcase in the other as she leads him to the car. “You’re in college, I get it. You have better things to do than visit us. Like go to parties. And date. Meet any cute girls recently?”

His heart sinks at the question, trying to keep his smile from faltering as they reach her car. “Too busy to try and date right now, mom.” He takes the bag from her, easily sliding it into the trunk as she watches him.

“Bullshit. C’mon, you’re a young, attractive guy. You must have some girls in your lectures throwing themselves at you.”

“You know me, I’m too focused on my studies to pay attention to that. It’s fine, I promise. I’m doing good in New York, living with Josh has been great, I’ve made some good friends. Dating just isn’t at the top of my priorities right now.” He hopes that his explanation will be enough for his mom to drop the topic as they get into the car, her prying being in good intention but only resurfacing old wounds.

“Oh! Speaking of, Karen and Kelly are having a barbeque tonight to celebrate you, Jake and Josh coming home for the summer. Your dad would have come with me to get you but he’s at their place right now helping set up.”

“Great, that’s great. Can’t wait to see everyone again.” Not everyone. Danny tries to keep his mind away from him as he listens to his mom talk throughout the drive, the pit in his stomach only growing as they turn down more and more familiar streets. A small weight lifts off his shoulders when he doesn’t see him in the front yard as they pass the Kiszka’s house, pulling into his childhood home’s driveway, his thoughts louder than his mother’s voice as they get out of the car.

“Danny?”

“Hm?”

“I said, do you want to go settle in and freshen up before you head over?”

“Oh, yeah that’d be great. Sorry, didn’t hear you, must be jetlagged.”

“You’re ok, it’s alright if you need to take a nap before tonight, everyone will completely understand. It took Josh a day to sleep off the travel.”

Danny snorts as he extends the handle of his suitcase, closing the trunk with the other hand. “Yeah, I bet he did. I swear, he gets tired from taking the subway for 15 minutes, can’t imagine him traveling on a plane without at least two naps. Should be alright though, thanks.”

“Of course. Alright, I’m going to go over to the Kiszka’s and let them know you’re here, see if they need any help and all that. The fridge and pantry are stocked up if you need a snack, and your room’s just as you left it.”

“Thanks, mom. Love you, see you in a few.”

“Love you too, Daniel. Don’t take too long.” Her tone is light, joking as she spares a glance behind her to smile before disappearing into the backyard.

It’s just a few hours, it’ll be fine. I can avoid him all night, there should be enough people to do that easily. Just a few hours and then I don’t have to see him all summer. Except he lives next door. And his older brothers are my closest friends and roommate. And our parents are friends. Should be easy to avoid him, right? God, I’m fucking screwed.

The second he reaches his room, he faceplants into his bed, nearly toppling off the edge of the twin after getting accustomed to his queen bed in New York. Rolling onto his back, he finally takes the room in. It was exactly how he left it the last time he visited, unchanged from when he lived there, like everything had frozen in time as he continued on. Everything in his room reminded Danny of a simpler time, of him. Of laying side by side on his too small bed, talking for hours as they stared up at the soft yellow of the Neil Young Harvest poster hung on the ceiling. The old acoustic guitar in the corner they would trade back and forth on his floor for hours now sat dusty and unused. The singe mark on the wood of his windowsill from the time they got too high and let the end of their joint burn out on it. He was everywhere, in everything. Danny could never escape him no matter how far he went, everything always circled back to him. He could grow and change and learn, but Frankenmuth would forever be there to remind him of everything that once was.

Might as well get up and get the party over with instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself. At the thought, Danny slides off his bed, landing hard on the ground before forcing himself up to find something to change into. After travelling all day, he was eager to get out of his loose jeans and sweatshirt, knowing it was too nice of a day to be comfortable wearing that outside.

He opens his suitcase unenthusiastically, hoping that he had remembered to pack at least one pair of shorts. Thankfully, he had, and he finds his (quite short) yellow shorts and his Howlin’ Wolf muscle tee in no time, changing quickly and slipping into his old, slip on vans before trudging down the stairs and out the front door, heading straight for the Kiszka’s backyard.

“DANNY!” The second he walks through the side gate, Danny only sees the blur of Jake before he slams into him, knocking the wind from his lungs as he loses his footing, falling backwards and pulling Jake down with him.

When he catches his breath, Danny wraps his arms around the other man with a grin as they lay on the soft grass. “Jake! Great to see you, man. Missed you.”

Jake loosens his grip before getting up and offering Danny a hand to pull him up. “Missed you too, it’s been way too long.”

“DANNY!” This time it’s Josh who slams into him, practically jumping into his arms as Danny catches him. “I’ve missed you so much, it’s been way too long since we’ve seen each other.” He fake sobs into his neck, pulling out everything he learned from the years of theater he did in high school to put on his act.

“We live together, Josh. I saw you three days ago.” Danny’s voice is flat, but he can’t help a smile from creeping onto his face as Josh pulls away from him grinning.

“Yeah, I know, but I still missed you.” After Danny makes his rounds of teary hugs with his dad, Karen, and Kelly, he looks around the yard, hating himself for noticing his absence.

“Sam’s inside cutting some watermelon, he’ll be out soon.” Karen says with a smile, picking up on what he was looking for and thinking her comment was helpful.

“Oh, great. That’s great.” They don’t know. He never told them.

“C’mon Danny, Josh and I started day drinking an hour ago, you gotta catch up to us.”

“Jacob!” Karen swats his arm as he passes her, already on his way to start making a drink for Danny.

“What? He’s 21 now, it’s legal.”

Danny’s smile is wiped clean off his face as he hears the back door slide open, turning to see Sam standing frozen in the doorframe with a large bowl of watermelon in his hands. Say something. Say something or it’ll be weird. “Hey Sam.”

Sam’s expression is as flat as his voice when he speaks. “Daniel.”

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taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm

[strangeswift]

happy happy birthday @astrobei !! as my gift to you, please enjoy some modern au college jancy (ft. byler)

If you told fifteen-year-old Jonathan Byers that one day he’d be taking time off of his busy schedule as an NYU Student and part time photography intern to get on a plane to Boston to visit his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, he probably would have fainted on sight. 

(Well, he probably wouldn’t have believed you, but if somehow he had, there would’ve been a high likelihood of him fainting on sight.)

The truth was, Jonathan’s life was kind of perfect now, as far as he was concerned. Most importantly, the world hadn’t ended, which was a pretty major concern a few years ago. 

His mom and Hopper were married now, and Hop was ten times the father Lonnie had ever been. It’d been a little bit of an adjustment at first, accepting Hopper into the family, but easier than you’d expect. Hopper had already been there for them for years, so it didn’t feel all that different.

El was living at home in Hawkins, commuting to Community College, which would’ve been Jonathan’s worst nightmare, but El seemed to be more than happy with the arrangement. Jonathan thought she might’ve been making up for lost time a bit, living at home with mom and Hop. Having a mom and a dad, a stable home. She definitely deserved it.

Will was finally happy, which had been Jonathan’s main concern in life for pretty much as long as he could remember. He was going to school for art in California and sharing a dorm with Mike, which he’d been pretty stoked about. Jonathan wasn’t entirely sure about the nature of their relationship these days, though he had his suspicions, but he knew Will was happy, and that was what mattered. Not to say that he and Nancy hadn’t tried to do some investigation on the matter, because they absolutely had. Call it journalistic instinct.

He and Nancy were better than ever these days, despite the distance. The fantastic thing about government hush money is that it’s not only good for tuition to your dream school, it can also be used for frequent air travel. Boston was only about an hour from New York City by plane, so they took turns visiting. Jonathan liked visiting Nancy, if only for the fact that she lived in a one bedroom apartment with no roommates. Glorious privacy. 

They’d just arrived back at said apartment after dinner with a few of Nancy’s friends from school, who Jonathan thought were nice, if a little high-strung. As soon as they entered the bubble of Nancy’s apartment, Jonathan gently grabbed her face and kissed her, slowly walking her back against the closed door.

She pulled back and laughed at him, her eyes filled with adoration. “What was that for?”

“I missed you,” he said sincerely.

She scoffed playfully. “We’ve been together for hours already.”

Jonathan pressed a kiss to her forehead, then to each of her cheeks, and finally connected their lips again. “Missed you,” he repeated.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and her cheeks flushed bright pink. “I missed you too,” she murmured.

---

One bottle of red wine later, they ended up on the couch, Nancy wrapped up in Jonathan’s arms as he ran a hand through her hair. 

He was-- Okay, he was a little buzzed. He’d always been a bit of a lightweight. (The alcoholic genes did absolutely nothing for him.) Nancy was even worse off.

So there they were, a little tipsy, tangled together and staring into each other's eyes, just because they could.

“Have you talked to Will lately?” Nancy asked suddenly.

Jonathan nodded. “He texted me earlier.”

“Have you collected any more intel?” Nancy asked curiously, leaning forward. 

Jonathan could smell the wine on her breath. He took a moment to find it funny that she was referring to prying for information on their little brothers and their possible romantic relationship (probable romantic relationship) as collecting intel.

“No,” Jonathan said, “I haven’t asked him about it in a while, he got all touchy last time,” he frowned.

“Mike won’t tell me shit,” Nancy complained, “he won’t even pick up the damn phone.”

“I should call Will,” Jonathan announced, and Nancy nodded earnestly.

He shimmied a little so that he could retrieve his phone from his back pocket, then settled back into place. Nancy watched intently as Jonathan called Will and put it on speaker. They both listened to the phone ring, and Jonathan held a finger to his lips, gesturing for Nancy to stay quiet. She giggled and nodded.

“Jonathan? Is everything okay?” Will’s groggy voice came over the phone.

“Oh. Were you sleeping?” Jonathan asked.

Will huffed. “Yeah, Jonathan. It's midnight. Are you drunk? You sound drunk.”

The existence of time zones suddenly dawned on Jonathan and he felt like an idiot. “A little, yeah. I’m not used to you being on California time. Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Will said through a yawn.

Jonathan was about to apologize again and let Will go back to sleep, when he heard a voice in the background grumble, “Who is it?” and Will quietly answer, “Shh. Just Jonathan.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened and he looked excitedly at Nancy. She grinned back at him.

“You settling into the dorms okay?” Jonathan asked.

“Uh… Yeah?” Will responded, obviously wondering why the conversation was still happening.

“You and Mike got separate bedrooms, didn’t you?” Jonathan asked, biting back a smug grin.

After a pause, Will said, “Yeah,” his tone clipped, “We got lucky.”

Jonathan and Nancy exchanged another look.

“Cool,” Jonathan said, “And you’re in bed now?”

“Yeah, Jonathan, it’s midnight, I was sleeping,” Will said, “Listen, I can call you in the morning if that’s okay?”

“Sure, buddy,” Jonathan said.

“Okay, I’ll--”

“Just out of curiosity though, who’s in bed with you right now?” Jonathan asked abruptly.

Will coughed. “What?”

Jonathan heard a distant “What is it?”

“Nobody is. I’m alone,” Will insisted.

Nancy rolled her eyes and Jonathan held in a laugh. “You know, you can tell me if you met someone out there,” he said, “I’m happy for you. Seems a little fast though, you’ve been there… what? A week?”

“I haven’t met anyone! Jesus, Jonathan,” Will said.

With that, Jonathan noticed Nancy was also on her phone, and he furrowed his brow in confusion, until he saw Calling Mike on the screen. The next thing he heard was a ringtone coming through the other end of the phone, followed by a loud groan.

“Hey!” Nancy said, “He sent me to voicemail.”

“Is that Nancy?” Will asked, “What the hell Jonathan?”

“Maybe,” Jonathan answered sheepishly.

There was some shuffling on the line, then Mike’s very tired voice came through the phone loud and clear. “Hey, Jonathan and Nancy. Great job, you caught us, we’re going back to sleep now. Fuck you and goodnight.”

Before Jonathan could respond, the call ended. He locked eyes with Nancy who looked similarly bemused.

“Case closed,” she said with a shrug, erupting into giggles.

“Case closed,” Jonathan echoed. He couldn’t help but recall a few years back, watching the two of them through a rear-view mirror in the Nevada desert.

He was really, really happy. And a little wine drunk, but mostly happy.

[bangtanhoneys]

Lights Will Guide You Home - Seokjin & Grace

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Fix You - Coldplay

Mandatory military service.

18-24 months of service required of all able-bodied South Korean men aged 18 to 28.

Delayed so Kim Seokjin could continue being a member of BTS but now entering as a private citizen, not a member of Bangtan Sonyeondan.

It brought heartbreak to millions, no one more so than Grace Chu.

Of course, in private, this decision had been discussed and made very early on. Many discussions had taken place that Jin wanted to go into the military after their Maps of the Soul tour but then COVID hit, Butter and Dynamite arrived, Permission to Dance on Stage and then the FESTA announcement of their solo projects and then finally, finally, Busan.

Every time he had planned to go, there was a pushback and a delay and now he was finally going, December 13th 2022.

Privately, Grace had accepted it and had done her goodbyes to her boyfriend of four years. Together they had worked through their problems of being a couple and being in the biggest band ever seen, of Seokjin's insecurities of not being good enough, of Grace's problems with her identity. Together they had been through it all but now it would just be Grace, who would have to go through this another seven times.

It was the worst kind of heartache - knowing your loved one was only hours away yet on the front lines, limited phone calls or texts, days off were only a day and she wouldn't see him properly until 2024. Until that time, her schedule was packed to the rim with her own projects such as an album, a tour, photoshoots, contracts with designers, meetings and more. There wouldn't be time to understand the loss of one of her biggest supporters, there wouldn't be time to adjust to having none of them there.

It was a horrid awareness Grace was experiencing as she and the rest of BTS were saying goodbye.

Of course, they all put on brave faces, as they each took pictures with Seokjin and goofed off for the BANGTAN BOMB camera. It was easy to slip into the public persona even in front of families to starve off tears that threatened to spill over.

Hobi, understanding what was needed, managed to drag Jimin and Taehyung to distract the camera long enough for the couple to have their private moment (or as private as it was going to get).

"I'll contact you the moment I can," Seokjin's voice was muffled behind the mask he wore as he pulled Grace to his chest, allowing her to hide her face in it even if more a moment.

"And I'll keep you and ARMY updated as often as I can. Don't let Jungkook distract you too much, and work hard and send me photos of where you're going. And I'll make sure the guys are safe too. Oh and don't forget to eat, go home and see your parents and look after Min-Ji."

"Are you going away or am I?" Grace asked, chuckling as she reached up to use the cuff of her coat to wipe her cheeks. "And Jungkook won't leave me alone, I think he's pretty much moved in at this point."

It was just as hard for Jungkook. It had always been joked around that Seokjin was one of the main reasons Jungkook had stayed in BTS, he was the one who had raised the fifteen-year-old, helped him do his homework, take him to school, put up with his antics, and was Jungkook's safe place. He had been silent the whole day since they all arrived, barely able to say a word or two but he didn't need to.

Seokjin knew Jungkook's silence better than anyone.

I'll miss you. Don't get hurt and hurry back because it's going to hurt without you.

And Grace was exactly the same.

I'll miss you. I love you. Don't leave but I know you have to so hurry back because I can't do this life without you.

Seokjin pressed a kiss to Grace's forehead, knowing he couldn't do what he wanted to do while in front of everyone. But he didn't need to because Grace knew it all behind that kiss - I'll miss you as well and I'm proud of you.

Grace pulled away to let the boys continue their goodbyes and she used Namjoon's huge frame to take a moment to wipe her tears, to compose herself and slip back into her stage persona. Because it was easier to show that than it was to show what she was truly feeling.

Alone.

Namjoon glanced over his shoulder and gave his noona a gentle nudge to the shoulder, giving her his silent support. Yoongi came wandering over and reached up, making sure her mask was in place and gave her a look to say 'You've got this. We're here.'

Finally, Seokjin was called over to begin his entrance ceremony and Grace felt a hand slip into hers. She looked up to see the youngest, his eyes just as watery as hers even underneath that bucket hat and she gave his hand a squeeze back. Under his breath, he began humming Jin's Astronaut song causing her to smile.

It would hurt to do this seven more times, it would hurt to say goodbye over and over again and it would hurt to be standing on stage as the only member of BTS remaining but the countdown began to 2025 when all of them would be back in Grace's arms and they would be all together again.

She just had to wait. 

Note: Listen to Fix You by Coldplay and Jin's The Astronaut while reading this. I did that and I made myself cry.

[widowwaddles]

Casualty of Love (Snippet)

Summary: The Scarlet Witch’s path to reunite with her kids was filled  with destruction. And now you must fan the flames in order to help your  family adjust to your new life afterward.

A what-if story continuing the aftermath of the Scarlet Witch's dream walking but of Wanda who had never awoken her powers. She is now plagued with the memories of her alternate's life. Would you be able to support your Wanda through this new journey or will you lose the Wanda you fell in love with in the process?

A/n: Excuse me as I just just drop this here and fade back into the background. Something short to test this idea out, let me know your thoughts.

Masterlist

The New Normal

Your slumber was interrupted by tossing and turning from beside you.

Your eyes burn as you open them. It’s a struggle to keep them open, as your body desperately craves the one thing it’s gone without for the past month. Between the hotel rooms, family therapy sessions, and the legal repercussions of proving your wife’s innocence for the Scarlet Witch’s tirade, a good night's sleep became a luxury you could no longer afford. You craved the mundane normalcy that your life once had before She wrecked havoc in your lives. But a part of you knew that things could never go back to how they were, and that was a grieving process in itself. It broke your heart to look at your family every morning and all you see is a hollow shell of their former selves.

You felt useless for being unable to do anything as you saw your wife’s eyes become filled with a scarlet glow as she murdered those in her path. The woman who could never hurt a fly, disappearing from the house without a word and returning covered in blood with no memory of where she was or what she’d done. That moment should have been your first clue that something was wrong and you should have prepared for the worst, but as you held your shaking wife that night you couldn’t think of anything other than cleaning her up and making the tears stop. Her breaths finally evened out as she lay on your chest, the steady rhythm of your heart lulling her into sleep.

You hear Wanda begin to mutter in her sleep as her hands clench the sheets under her grasp. This was the third nightmare tonight.

“Wanda, baby” you call out softly.

“Please, don’t hurt them” she pleads, still trapped within the nightmare.

Sitting up, you turn on the lamp. Getting a better look at your wife, her face is in distress with sweat covering her forehead. You knew that you needed to wake her now. Shaking her body, you call out to her again. “We’re safe baby, please open your eyes for me”

This seems to do the trick and as she opens her eyes, you are greeted with a flicker of scarlet before they return back to green. The adrenaline from her nightmare still plaguing her body as her chest rises and falls with a quickness. Pulling her body into you until her head rests against your chest, you knew this was the only way to prevent the start of her panic attacks after these types of dreams.

“Detka” she cries out. “The boys, where are they? I need to find them”

She attempts to thrash away from your grip, but you don’t let her go. “They’re okay, I promise. Today’s a big day for them, remember it's their first day” You shush her, rocking your body as you remind her of the day’s schedule. School was the (reluctant) first step to gaining stability and normalcy in their lives. Silence fills the air, and when you felt her breaths calm down you thought she had fallen back to sleep once again.

“Y/N, please. I need to see my babies” she begs, her voice so small and broken.

“Okay,” you give in, knowing just how much she needs reassurance with her own eyes. “But, we can’t wake them or else they’ll never go back to bed,” you say lightly, in hopes of gaining a smile from Wanda but all you hear in response is Wanda rushing out of the room like a woman on a mission.

Sighing, you get out of bed and tread to the hallway. As you approach their room, you see Wanda is already sitting on the bed, slowly stroking Tommy’s cheek before moving to Billy’s. Ever since the incident, they’ve reverted to sleeping in the same bed again, in fear of one day waking up to the other being gone forever. As you enter, you approach the window that overlooks the beds and adjust the digital baby monitor you’ve had to purchase since moving into this new house. The boys are still adjusting to the new house and after the first night waking up to screams of horror, you both wanted to ensure their safety from the convenience of your room. You could still remember the glare you received from Wanda when you mentioned the idea of returning to your bedroom at night instead of sleeping with the twins for a night. You would have thought that you said the evilest thing in the world from the way she refused to speak to you for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until you brought it up again with their therapist that she had actually agreed it would be better to start the transition now that you were in a new city. Wanda was reluctant to agree but only under the condition that cameras were installed around the house in case something happens. You didn’t think that you needed to do something that drastic yet, so you both eventually compromised with the baby monitor. It hasn’t even been a full week yet, but the boys were handling it far better than you had expected. Ever since the move, they’ve taken things even better than you and Wanda had. It made your heart swell with love when you saw how peaceful and carefree they looked as they slept.

Wanda leans forwards, pressing a kiss onto each of their cheeks before standing up. She lets out a shaky breath, reaching out for your hand now that she’s been able to believe that her family was safe. You grab her hands and guide her back to your bedroom.

As you lay back down in bed, you could tell something was still preventing Wanda from fully relaxing again.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I… I don’t understand these dreams. It's a life that’s so different from mine, one without you or the boys. And it scares me so much” she confesses, her grip tightening on your hand. “I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost this, lost you. Each night I’m reliving the same nightmare that always ends with me alone, with everyone around me dead”

You kiss her head and rub her back.

“What if she’s still inside of me? And I try to hurt you or the twins again, I would never forgive myself” she says frantically, working herself up again.

“Wanda look at me” you say firmly, before grabbing her hands. “We are safe, and you are safe. The tests have all confirmed that she is gone and she’ll never come back. You’re my wife, and the mother to the best kids in the world. I know you’ll never do anything to hurt our family. And I will never let anything happen to you or the boys, again” You speak with so much conviction that it springs tears in Wanda’s eyes.

“It won’t be easy but soon we’ll heal from this, and it’ll become a distant memory. Our love is strong enough to get through this, but you can’t bottle it all in. I need you to trust and let me be there for you for as long as it takes until it happens, you’re not alone and you’ll never be as long as I’m here”

“Okay,” she sobs out. “Don’t ever let go, I’m afraid of what I’ll become if you did. I can’t do this without you”

“Never. I’m not going anywhere” you promise.

You don’t remember how long you spent holding Wanda until all you heard was her soft snores. You look towards your alarm and instantly know that your time to rest has come to an end. You get up and begin preparing for the day, deciding to start with the kitchen knowing your wife would be happy to see it clean before she makes breakfast. It feels like your body has been moving on autopilot for the past month, and you had no idea how much longer you could sustain the current pace of your lives.

You have to fight the urge to break down every time you see the pain in their eyes whenever something accidentally triggers them to that hell. It’s something you should have gotten used to by now, but the aching behind your eyes reminds you that you weren’t invincible (even though you wished you were). You felt weak and useless, not knowing what you could do to help but you’d never let that show. It is up to you to hold this family together. The only thing motivating you now was the hope that tomorrow would be better than today, and with this glass-half-full mindset, you could see the progress. So you had to remain strong, for the good of your family. All of the sleepless nights and tears would all be worth it in the end. But until that day comes, you’ll just have to accept that this is your new normal.  

[never-wednesday]

Hey its a Lil late in the month but this disability pride month I wanna talk about long covid. I also have chronic pain and all sorts of worms in my brain but I've been dealing with that forever. So we're talking about the new stuff. Putting a readmore because I'm talking about what my experience being sick with covid was like and it's probably unpleasant to read.

It's December of 2022 and I work retail while I'm home from school for winter break. I mask up every time I leave the house, including for work. My parents don't. My father talks about covid not being a big deal. He caught it last year and it was a mild cold for him. He says "i ate lunch with someone who had covid last week and im fine!" My mother catches covid a week after that conversation. I test and am seemingly fine despite symptoms of a cold, and then three days later (one of those days was a full 8hr shift at work where I was worn ragged because it's almost christmas. I also got heat exhaustion because the AC was busted and I live in TX.) I feel the worst I have felt in ages. My mom insists that my dad takes me to get tested for the flu, and I schedule a covid test while I'm at it. My covid test comes back positive.

For the next week I am bedbound, only able to sit up enough to try to eat something and only able to stand up long enough to get myself to and from the bathroom. I sleep through the days when I can get the dayquil down, and cough through the nights when I can't get the nyquil down. I hallucinate when im tired. One of those nights I swear I talk to god. My brain is fogged and it hurts to breathe. I am worried I will need to be hospitalized because I can't seem to keep any water in my system. It's a miracle that I can write instructions for my father to cook ramen for me. I can only drink the broth. One morning I try to take dayquil to soothe my throat and I vomit. My stomach is empty and I stand over the sink wretching.

It feels like a miracle when I recover. Christmas day my symptoms mostly clear up and I'm able to sit up long enough to use my computer, something I was unable to do for the past week. I test negative, my second best Christmas present that year. The first is the Elden Ring soundtrack on vinyl. I am elated that I made it put the other end.

A week later my friend comes from a few cities away to visit for a few days. We go shopping one afternoon, spend a few hours standing around at the local game store looking at dice and miniature plastic dragons. We get home at 6pm. I collapse into bed and wake up 3 hours later. I talk to my doctor about it in January, she says it should go away over time. Six months maximum.

I spend my spring semester exhausted. I start using a cane to make sure I can walk across campus. I'm thankful that many of my friends are also disabled because they understand when I need to ask people to slow down, or bail because of my fatigue. Many of the abled people in my life do not understand. One day I go out to a museum, a thing I am excited to do. When I get home at 4pm I make myself popcorn, then collapse into bed. I can't walk to the sink without my cane, I can barely get out of bed. This is what I have to adjust to.

Six months pass. The fatigue is not gone. I am home for summer break, and I try talking to my parents about my fatigue. They don't understand. I talk to my doctor. She is convinced it's depression symptoms. My mental health is largely the best it's been in years- I've been in treatment for months now and it is helping.

It's been about seven months now. I am not receiving treatment, nor will my doctor acknowledge that I have long covid. She has relented into testing for physical things. I got a CT scan, and have a sleep study scheduled for when I get back from visiting family in August. Depending on what these turn up and how my doctor reacts I am preparing to find a new doctor. I am not excited about this, because I like my doctor. But if she refuses to acknowledge that what has happened to me is likely covid and therefore will not treat me I will find someone else.

I don't really have a moral here beyond please mask up, get vaccinated, etc. Even if covid doesn't fuck you up it might fuck up someone you pass it to. Or even worse, it can kill the immunocompromised people around you. Please have compassion for the people around you. My father, who is a loving and caring man, brought this illness home to me. It wasn't out of malice, but it still has affected my life for probably the rest of my life.

[imtrashraccoon]

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day

Day 5: Showing Off

Something smelled really good, like a comfortable, warm blanket for your nostrils kind of good. It slowly stirred you from the depths of sleep and for a moment, you were reminded of a cartoon character floating along the wonderful vapours.

Your eyes finally flickered open and while it took a moment to adjust to the light, you suddenly realized Frisk was gone. Ever since the first night you'd spent at the brother's home, you'd slept in such a way to basically shield them with your body. You laid on the couch with your back to the room, having Frisk situated between yourself and the back of the couch.

While Frisk wasn't always a cuddler, ever since you'd both fallen down here, they'd started practically clinging to you like a koala, especially while sleeping. Although, in the short time you two had been staying with the brothers, Frisk had grown more comfortable in general and you noticed they weren't sticking as close to you lately. Still, if they wanted to stop sleeping so close to you, they hadn't expressed as much, which was perfectly fine by you.

You hadn't told the brothers yet as you hadn't seen a reason to, but Frisk wasn't actually your kid. Sure, you had been looking after them on and off for the better part of a year by this point, but they still technically lived with their parents. Although, it had started to feel like they spent more time at your place instead, which only compounded further now that you hadn't been apart for a few weeks.

You'd always treated them more like a younger sibling than your own child. In fact, you'd barely ever given having children of your own much thought. You weren't blind though, you knew that Frisk's real parents barely acknowledged them back when you first met them, which only got worse the more time they spent with you instead.

You were the one who learned sign language to communicate with them, something their parents couldn't seem to be bothered to do. You were the one who comforted them when the neighborhood kids picked on them for being different. You were the one who made sure they ate right and made it to after school activities they were interested in.

You'd been distant at first but Frisk wormed their way into your heart until you couldn't afford not to care about them. Sure, you'd spoken with their parents many times about your concerns, but they never listened to you. The responsible thing after that probably would've been to report them to CPS but you couldn't bear the thought of Frisk being put into the foster system.

So that was how they'd become your friend. You took time out of your busy schedule to do fun things together like watch movies, play board games, and go to the local park to name a few. While you acknowledged that you could never fill the parental role for them, you knew you could at least make a small difference in their life.

So naturally, you'd become rather protective of them. You didn't think you were overbearing, but anyone would understandably be if they suddenly found themselves in a world where everyone wanted to kill them and their kid. The fact that Frisk had disappeared was enough to strike fear in your soul that the worst had finally happened.

You got up quickly, although the sudden motion caused you to feel rather lightheaded, but once you'd recovered, you scanned the living room for Frisk. Your ears then picked up the sound of Papyrus' voice in the kitchen and the familiar clatter of cooking utensils. Upon checking though, relief flooded over you, smothering the initial panic you'd felt.

Of course, Papyrus was there, but sitting on the counter close by was Frisk. They seemed to be holding a pleasant conversation, although Frisk was communicating solely through sign language but Papyrus seemed to have no issues understanding them, which was slightly surprising. They hadn't interacted much before now so you hadn't realized Papyrus knew sign language.

You smiled at the sight and walked into the kitchen as casually as you could. "Good morning," you said when they noticed you. Well, you hoped it was still morning and you hadn't overslept at least.

Frisk waved at you as soon as they spotted you. "I'm helping make breakfast!" they signed excitedly.

"Oh? It seems like you're being a big help then," you responded teasingly.

Papyrus chuckled and turned the element down slightly. "They Are Actually." He looked over at you again and added, "I Do Not Usually Cook With Anyone But They Know More Than I Expected."

"I remembered how to make scrambled eggs, just like you showed me." Frisk grinned and planted their hands on their hips proudly.

You felt your heart melt and you moved over to the counter, giving them a big hug. Frisk struggled in your grip until they could free their arms and hug you back. You were very proud of them that was for sure.

Hearing Papyrus chuckle again, you released your grip on Frisk and looked over at him. You made eye contact briefly before he turned his attention back to the frying pan with the eggs. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was rather pleased right now.

"I Did Not Mind Letting Them Help By The Way," he said. "They Said They Wanted To Do Something Nice For You, So I Mostly Supervised So They Would Not Hurt Themselves."

"I appreciate it, thank you. I've taught them how to do a few things but they're still a little young to use the stove in my opinion."

Frisk grumbled and lightly bumped their head against your collarbone. When you glanced at them, they signed, "I wouldn't start a fire!"

"Maybe not, but you could burn yourself by accident," you gently chided and ruffled their fluffy hair.

They crossed their arms and pouted, although they couldn't stay annoyed for longer than ten seconds. With a small sigh, they finally nodded, "I know..."

"Thank you for thinking of me though. I feel so special," you said with a smile and gave them another hug for good measure.

(Edit: Just tagging @scrambledmeggys since I didn't earlier. Apologies, but you might get a couple more of these today...) (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

[operatorsdiner]

Cigarettes & Cryptic Neighbors: Entry 4

Dante’s phone buzzed and lit up with a text notification from Adrian. “Hey, could you come in for like an hour and clean the walk-in fridge? Some big ass thing tore it up and Baylen is tweaking hard.” Dante looked down at the text as he used his towel to pat his hair dry. His face twisted into a frown as he picked up the phone to try and come up with even an inkling of an idea how to respond to such a request but before he could even type the words he wanted, Enzo had beaten him to it. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dante looked at the screen and shrugged as he closed the phone and continued on with his night. He was used to hell shitting on his job when he was there so the idea of things going wrong while he was gone didn't bother him. It was essentially a part of the job description that Waffle House is its own circle of hell nestled oh so graciously between greed and wrath; His own personal inferno.  He opened his bathroom door and gracefully tossed his phone on his bed, choosing to focus on his recovery for his own health. Dante coughed harshly into his elbow and used his fist to lightly pound on his chest in hopes of migrating the clinging mucus coating his insides. The shower was meant to loosen up the sickening flem inside him and ease the migraine that brought him to his knees in agonizing pain in class today. His head chef sent him home from his pastry course after he fell over an open oven door from his vision spotting. Dante pressed his hands tightly to his face as he stumbled over to his bed and allowed himself to let gravity pull him down to his mattress. With his head throbbing he could do nothing but lay on his stomach with a pillow over his head as he shook in pain. This wasn't the first time he had had migraines but it had been over 15 years since he'd last had a migraine in all honesty; besides his cigarette every two days he was the pinnacle of health. He never drank alcohol, never took damaging drugs in high school, hell he was even a purple belt in jujitsu so the resurgence of one of the worst pains in his life not only has him annoyed but also a bit worried for his health. He had already called earlier in the day to schedule an appointment to not only check up on his health but possibly get his old prescription back for his migraine medication. For now, all Dante could do was lay in bed in agony as his brain scraped against his frontalis begging to be free. He continued to shake, almost fainting from the pain when it started to die down and he finally let his aching muscles relax from being clenched and tensed from the agony his skull decided to bestow upon him. He let out a pained groan as he removed the pillow from over his head and sat up on his mattress. Moving his duvet to the side he grabbed his phone and flinched as the bright screen invaded his senses. 

Soon his eyes adjusted to the screen as he checked his notifications. 50 unread messages. Lovely. He clicked on the work group chat and scrolled up past the wall of sarcastic memes to see what he missed. In the texts Adrian and Enzo bickered back and forth about how there should be no reason why they should be contacting either Enzo or Dante after they called off of work for very serious health issues, especially considering the fact they never call off work. Adrian could only counter by saying no one else wanted to handle it since the incident happened in the walk-in fridge, and Baylen only trusted Enzo or Dante to clean in there normally.  Enzo thankfully stood their ground for the both of them and told Adrian to either handle it themself or Enzo would come in to handle it in a very unprofessional manner. Scrolling through the rest of the chat was just the other night shift crew obviously fucking around and not cleaning the store. Normally on shift, Dante has to play manager and tell people 4 years older than him to do their job so the day shift does not harass them, but the one day he's gone he could already see the stupid yellow managerial note taped to the night shift desk bitching about how filthy it was when they opened. They always found something to bitch about though; ironic considering they never cleaned in preparation for the night crew and often left large messes for hours on end for the night shift to clean. Dante rolled his eyes as he stood up to grab his uniform to head to work. Might as well be a team player since Baylen was already having a bad night. As he pulled on his black jeans his phone came to life once more grabbing his attention at hand. Tilting his head at an angle to read the message from his beloved manager, Baylen, he let out a sigh of relief as he opened the chat. 

“I‘ll deal with the walk-in, I was the one who fired rounds into it anyway.” Dante’s face scrunched with a look that was a mix of concern, confusion, and disappointment. “You know what. Not even going to question it. You do you.” The message was left on seen as Dante continued to get dressed to head out for the night. The West Virginia fall was not kind with its temperatures, especially in the hilly woods that Dante called his home. Dante laced up his boots and stood tall as he left his bedroom, heading straight for the coat rack to grab his heaviest jacket. His dad’s old beat-up carhartt jacket was the best thing he had around to keep him warm and comfortable in the chilling air. Checking his pockets for his lighter and cigarettes, he slid the chain of his lock to the left and unlocked his door making sure to grab his keys on the way out. Once in the hall of his apartment, he turned around quickly pulling on the door handle harshly as he stuck his key into the knob to lock the door behind him. “You didn’t knock on my door today,” a monotone voice said from behind him. Dante nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around at breakneck speed to see who was behind him. Standing behind Dante with a shit-eating grin was his neighbor and fellow college classmate, Cody. Dante held his hand to his chest as he let out a sigh of relief before slapping Cody's arm harshly. “You scared me you fucking dickhead,” he grumbled as he pulled his key out of the door handle. Cody let out a mischievous chuckle and gave Dante a lopsided grin. “You know me. Silent but deadly.” Dante snickered as he turned and headed down the hallway with Cody trailing behind. They both headed down the stairs of their apartment building and out of the back exit to an alleyway behind the building. The alleyway wasn't the ideal spot to stand around at, as it held the dumpsters and feral animals of the town. More often than not week old trash and moldy cardboard littered the concrete floor with the smell of cat piss wafting over for added ambiance, but to Dante, it didn't matter as he had gone nose blind to it years ago when he had moved in. Dante wasted no time heading over to the metal stairs that connected to the building and taking his seat. Pulling out his pack of newports, he grabbed one and placed it between his lips as he cuffed his hand in front of his face, bringing the lighter up to the end of it. Once the tip glowed a burnt ember orange, he took a long drag and then held it in, relishing in the warmth and slight burning it brought to his lungs. He exhaled as a familiar tingle spread across his body, “God I've needed a hit of nicotine all day, you have no idea,” Dante chuckled gruffly as he looked up at Cody who was pulling out his own pack. Cody smiled while shaking his head as he pulled out his desired cigarette and felt around his pockets. “Forgot my lighter again. You mind?” Cody questioned as he placed it delicately between his lips. Dante snickered and rolled his eyes at Cody's carelessness. 

“When do I ever mind?” Dante retorted as he placed the cigarette back in his mouth. Cody smiled as he leaned down and touched the tip of his cigarette against Dante’s. Cody's bright green eyes focused on the cancer sticks between them, but Dante couldn't help but let his eyes drift to admire the man in front of him. They had been neighbors for 3 years since Dante had turned 18 and moved to the dingy apartment building in hopes of starting his young adult life on the right foot. Cody was the first to introduce himself as he was in the exact same boat as Dante. Being the only other person close in age to Dante at 23, the two got along right away as not only were they neighbors but were also students of the same campus. While Dante was in the culinary arts program Cody was in the pathology program. Not only was Cody extremely educated he was also very pretty to Dante. Pale skin littered with freckles and beauty marks, hands constantly moisturized with neatly cut nails, a gentle face with nice cheekbones, glasses that brought attention to his strong eye shape, and wavy brown hair that just suited him nicely. Dante always admired him for his ambitions and his boyish charms. He only came back to the present moment as Cody pulled back and took a long drag of his smoke. “I was on my way over to the Waffle House to see you when you were walking out of your apartment. Didn’t you have work today?”  He asked, looking down at the man in front of him on the steps. Dante shrugged. “Had a migraine in class. Called off work. Set up a doctor's appointment as well because I haven't had migraines like that since I moved here from Michigan.” Cody hummed in acknowledgment as he took another hit. “Shame, I was hoping you'd bring me the leftovers of today's class assignment.” Dante laughed dryly and smiled as he shook his head. “I'm not your personal chef, you know. I work at a Waffle House for christ’s sake.” He sucked on his cancer stick and rubbed his boot on the ground. Pulling out his phone he checked the time and checked his messages. A few from the night shift’s group chat bullshitting around again, and a few from Enzo talking about their migraine finally fading away. Cody moved closer, leaning over Dante to spy on his phone. 

Finding nothing of interest from his quick glance, Cody leaned away and continued to smoke. “Hey, just so you know, I’m having friends from out of town come over a lot in the next few weeks, so if you hear banging or something coming from my apartment you know why,” Cody said off-handedly and shrugged. Dante rested his elbows on the steps behind him while he stretched out his legs in front of him, “As long as you aren’t having loud sex and your friends don’t fuck with my door we’re cool. You know how bad I get when I'm paranoid.” Cody's face scrunched up in disgust at the mention of sex but nodded at Dante’s requests, “Sounds fair to me. You don’t bother my friends and they won't bother you.” Cody took one last drag before dropping his cigarette onto the wet concrete and snuffing it out with a twist of his converse. “Well, I have a path assignment due by Thursday. I'll stop by your job tomorrow to grab my usual so I can fuel up to study. I’m gonna bring my friend along with me though. I'm sure you'll love them. They're a bit of a weirdo like you.” Dante’s head snapped in Cody’s direction with a stern glare. “You're cruel and unusual for that but you're not wrong. Just a dickhead.” Cody laughed as he headed to the back door and held it open. Looking back at Dante he grinned and chuckled. He rested his temple against the door as he looked at the boy on the stairs. “You know you love me. Anyways, don't stay out here too long, your health is already all sorts of fucked and the last thing you need is a cold right now. I'll see you around, Dante.” With that, he stepped inside, letting the metal door softly shut behind him. Dante smiled softly at where Cody once stood as he finished his cigarette. Standing up, he tossed the butt to the floor, stomping it out before turning and heading towards the door.  As his hand touched the door handle, a shooting pain spread across his body and dark spots flooded his vision as another migraine ensued. Dante used the door to brace his body and he opened it and stumbled inside, using the wall to hold him up. Squeezing his eyes shut until wet hot tears of pain streamed down his face, he used his sense of touch to lead himself up the stairs and back to his apartment. Making his way to his door, he reached into his pocket, yanking out his keys and slamming them into the keyhole with one go. He quickly twisted the keys and stepped inside, closing the door behind him as gently as possible as he turned around. Locking both locks he threw his keys into a bowl. He didn't have the energy to even go to his room as he collapsed on the couch, curling up into a tight ball to try and stop the pain. He shook and cried silently as his cranium begged for a hole to be put in it. He felt his phone buzz again as he laid there pathetically. Grabbing it quickly, he opened up the messenger to see a text from Baylen. “Hey, dress nice tomorrow. Your polaroid on the staff board has disappeared so we're gonna have to retake it. Hope you feel better.”