#but those girls were getting it. They earned those paychecks that day

[bluewxrld07]

love ain't so pretty (Luke Hughes)

Warning(s): angst, gold-digger accusations, self-doubt, insecurity

Summary: Y/n is a hard worker. She may not come from a family of wealth, but she doesn't let that define her. Until Luke says something inn which that something is said in a way he can never take back.

She was so overstimulated. She was tired, she was sweaty, she had stains on her shirt from a spilt coffee mishap.

Yet she still had that smile on her face as she greeted and bid farewell to regulars and other newer customers. Y/n wiped the sweat dripping from her forehead away as she finished wiping down one of her last tables for the night, pocketing the leftover generous tip she was left.

As she brought the dishes to the back and hung up her apron, she saw one of her closest coworkers, Grayson, making his way towards her.

"We're going out tonight if you want to join? Just to Don's down the street." he tells her as she helps the chefs with putting dishes in the sink.

She purses her lips. "Not tonight-" her coworker groans. "I promised Luke I'd come home tonight and watch the rest of the Frozen four game. UMich plays tonight, so he invited some of the guys over and wants us all there to watch it."

Grayson puts his hands on his hips and looks her up and down. "Girl, you are absolutely smitten by this man."

Y/n rolls her eyes, feeling her skin heat up. "He gets me what can I say. He's the first guy who likes me as a person. Not as just something with tits and ass." She jokes, earning a playful shove from him.

They laugh. "Hey those guys back then were fine as fuck and you know it." He shoots, earning a defeated sigh from her as she grabs her belongings.

"Yeah yeah, that was back then. I'm happier now," she chuckles, giving Grayson a hug. "Tell your man of the night hi for me though." she jokes, earning a snort.

"Oh you'll bet hearing about it tomorrow don't you worry." Graysons calls out to her as she walks off.

As she drove home that night, she felt more of the fatigue slipping in from her twelve hour shift, her feet beginning to slowly throb from being on them nonstop.

She knew she would regret taking another twelve hour shift for the fifth day in a row, but in all fairness she knew her paycheck was going to look super nice. Not that she minded working anyway.

Y/n has never had things come easy to her. She came from a family of the lower class, and she had done what she could to support them while also getting her education.

When it came to college, she knew that she wanted nothing more than to graduate with her Bachelor's degree in health science. That all came to an end when her mom died, and her father was struggling to pay bills. So she put her dreams and scholarship acceptance letters aside, putting her family first and working her ass off.

Now she was working as one of the partial owners of a very beautiful restaurant, making a decent amount of change and ignoring what everyone had said about her decisions of not going to college. Sure she still wishes she could have experienced the college life, but she knew that this life was better than spending the rest of her life paying off student loan debt.

She worked hard to get where she got to, and working where she does is what caused her to meet her now boyfriend of almost three years, and she would be damned if she would let Luke be the only one making the money in their relationship.

He has always made comments about how he could be their income, but it always needed with her saying she wanted to make her own money. As well as knowing she would get bored not doing something with her life, and she couldn't face the thoughts of him thinking she would become too reliant on his money.

She snapped herself out of the darker side of those thoughts, knowing she does work hard.

Y/n lets out a sigh of exhaustion as she made her way up the stairs towards her and Luke's shared apartment, the sounds of the guys voices being heard as she got closer to their place.

The girl opened the door quickly to not disturb their conversation being had in the other room, shutting it quietly as she took off her shoes.

She set her keys and purse on the rack, making her way down the hall and pulling her hair into a knot on the top of her head.

The guys chuckles and conversations dying down a bit as she cam into view, everyone giving her warm welcomes and 'hello's. She exchanged a few hugs and greetings to the Devils players in her household, soon making her way behind the couch to hug her boy from behind.

Luke lets out a chuckle as he felt Y/n bury her face in his neck and place a kiss there, his fingers caressing her wrists that were around his neck.

"How was work, baby?" he asks softly, she hums.

"Busy. Long. Grayson asked if I wanted to come out with him and the rest of the crew, but I just could not. I'm so tired."

"How many hours did you work today?"

"Close to thirteen. I covered for Miriam because her son was sick." she sighs, laying her chin on his shoulder.

Luke places a few chaste kisses on her cheek and temple. "You definitely deserve a drink or two though."

"Yeah, but I wanted to come watch the game with you and the boys. I also don't get paid till tomorrow, so I'd rather just keep the money spending to a tighter budget." she explains, earning a grin from Luke.

"I could've sent you money, love. You never go out really," he assures her, but she shakes her head and stands straight. She squeezes his shoulders.

"Not the point, baby. I don't need you spending your money on me. I make my own money, I don't want to rely on you, you know how I get with you spending money on me." she says, placing a kiss on his head.

Luke just sighs, and looks up at her. "Why don't you go shower, and I will grab you a drink and something to eat for when you get back out here?" he suggests, she grins down at him and nods.

Y/n walks off to their shared bedroom and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her to strip down.

The warm water instantly helps sooth her muscles and pains, earning some decompressing sighs of relief from her as she washes herself clean.

Once she is done, she steps out and heads towards the mirror to do her nightly routine. She shrugs on some cropped sweats and Luke's sweatshirt that was hanging up, brushing her hair after.

As she opens the door that goes back to their shared room, she sets her towel on her desk chair and goes to place her phone on the charger.

She pauses when she hears something from one of the guys, in which it makes her frown.

"Why didn't she go out tonight?"

She hears Luke sigh. "I don't know. She said something about not getting paid till tomorrow and being tight on her budget."

One of the guys snort. "What does she do?"

"She's a partial owner and full-time manager for that nice restaurant down the street overlooking the bridge."

It's quiet for a few seconds. "That's it? Nothing special?"

"Really? I thought she did something else," one guy chuckles.

"Nope, she's just over there." Luke answers quietly.

"No wonder she is tight on money. I thought she went to college and got a real job or something."

"I didn't know you'd stoop down to lower-class type girls Lukey," a guy jokes, making Y/n's insides churn.

"I don't that's the thing," Luke laughs, Y/n instantly getting closer to the doorway to hear what else he has to say. "She could definitely use the money I make here and there. She doesn't make shit compared to what I get."

Y/n's blood runs cold.

She knows she is not professional sports player, but she does make a decent amount, so hearing Luke say that makes her heart ache. The man that was supposed to stick up for her and love her regardless was saying things like this when she wasn't in the room. Who knew what else he was saying when he wasn't around her.

"Wouldn't you be worried about her becoming a gold digger though, man?"

Luke scoffs. "I mean yeah of course, but she's got this thing where she needs to prove to whoever that she can make money. So she will never accept a dime from me. She barely pays for our rent here, she pays a good forty percent. But without me around who knows if she'd have a roof over her head."

Y/n didn't even realize she was crying until she felt the drops hitting her toes, the girl instantly wiping at her eyes.

She couldn't listen to any more of their conversation, instantly heading towards their closet and grabbing whatever she could fit into the duffel.

If he was going to say this about her, making her sound like she could be so broke and so homeless if he wasn't around. She didn't want a man like that in her life.

Y/n grabbed her phone and charger, slipping on a pair of socks and her jacket before walking out of their bedroom.

She stormed down out past the group sitting in the living room, noticing Luke in the kitchen in her side view. She beelined towards the hallway that led to their front door, putting on her shoes as she heard Luke say her name.

"Where you going? I just finished making you your favorite!" he says in an excited tone. Luke's smile falters as he sees her puffy and red splotched face.

"Baby? What's going on?" he asked, as he began to walk towards her.

She just shook her head, grabbing her purse and keys. "I can't do this." she scoffs with a sniffle.

"Do what? Hey, hey, hey," he says, grabbing her waist to turn her back towards him as she begins to open the front door. His face falls completely at the sight of her broken one.

"I won't be some fucking charity case for you," she snaps. Luke's face frowning. "What?" he asks.

"I make more than enough money to be financially stable on my own fucking feet. I don't need you feeding some fucking lies to your so called friends that I can't pay shit. You chose the rent split percentage. You chose how much you wanted me to pay because you wanted to spend more on me."

Luke's face was white. "Y/n I-"

"No. I'm done Luke. Go fuck some high-class bitch that can afford everything you can and more. We're over."

Before Luke could get another word out, the door slammed in his face.

Luke backed away from the door silently, his figure coming into view to the boys who heard the door slam.

"Luke you good?"

He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes still locked on the door in hopes she would come back. Tears threatening to spill in his eyes.

"Luke?"

He turned away and towards the kitchen, swiping the glass on the counter away and letting it shatter on the fridge.

"I fucked up. Big time."

[annwrites]

a house in hawkins. part one.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: billy finds you at a house in hawkins.

— tags: billy being infatuated with you just a lil

— tw: none

— word count: 1,984

— a/n: i love u ethel cain, tysm for the constant inspo; preacher's daughter is so amazing.

ooh i like this one, yes i do. i think this is the start of something good.

billy isn't going to be portrayed by me the same way he was in thoroughfare. he's an adult now & has grown into a man. i'm not saying he won't come off as a tad cocky at times, but he's going to be far more mature in this series.

He doesn't know why he cares so damn much. Why it piques his curiosity to begin with. But it does.

He'd, for the last two weeks, passed you every day on his way home from work.

You'd walk along the side of the road, before eventually turning off to the right, heading up a dirt path through the woods.

He wanted to know what was out there now. Some meadow? A swimming hole? A treehouse? He'd come up with many theories while sitting at home alone, having a microwavable dinner and a cold beer at the end of the night, hardly paying attention to whatever b-movie was playing on the little antenna color TV in front of him.

No. You were what he thought of. To an annoying level. He'd screwed up brake calipers one day at work with you on his mind. After that, he began to resent you a little. Some random girl with a backpack on her shoulders and no knowledge that he even existed.

He'd not even gotten to set eyes on your face yet. He'd taken in everything else he could, however.

Your long hair, tanned skin, the dresses and shorts you usually opted for in terms of attire, the bracelets that littered your wrists.

He would never, never admit to having gotten off one night in bed thinking about your tight backside swaying as you took step after step atop the same asphalt his tires rolled along. In truth, before that night, he couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered touching himself at all.

Once high school ended, and his father was no longer responsible for him, he'd been kicked out near-immediately and he'd changed as a person not long after. It'd been time to grow up. No more games.

He had crashed at this friend's place or that one's. Eventually, a homeless shelter or two. He worked odd-jobs until he saved up enough to begin renting an apartment. And then he found full-time employment at a mechanic shop. He stayed mostly to himself. The work was steady, the paychecks not usually all that much, but he saved little-by-little what he could, until he'd had enough for a down-payment on a fixer-upper on the outskirts of town.

He didn't want to live anywhere near where his father was.

He didn't mind the extra time it tacked onto his commute every day. Enjoyed it, really. It gave him time to think. Not that he wasn't always.

So, to get his head to quiet, he threw himself into work while at the shop, and into his new house once he was home every evening. The roof needed patching, the wiring re-done, the front steps replacing, the paint was chipping from the walls. The list was damn-near endless. But he liked that. It gave him something to do. His hands stayed occupied, if nothing else.

He earned a few more calluses in time from it all. He'd wondered once what you might think about a man with rough hands. Then wondered even more why the fuck he cared in the first place.

He didn't even know your name. And he was almost certain you were still in school. Unless you just liked carrying a backpack everywhere. Perhaps you went into those tall trees to camp. Perhaps a lot of things.

It's a Thursday when he finally decides to do it—follow you. Out of boredom, if nothing else. Or, that's the reasoning he gives himself, at least.

In truth, he wanted to know you. Ask you more questions than he was sure any normal person would probably be comfortable with. He wanted to see what was out here in the wilderness that seemed to draw you in so much that you returned day-after-day.

Then again, maybe you were meeting someone. A boyfriend, a girlfriend—a lover.

The thought makes his heart squeeze, which makes him feel just the least bit pathetic. He was no longer the boy he once was. The one that all other guys at Hawkins High wished to be, and all the girls there wished to be with. He'd become an after-thought to all of them now, he was sure. His glory days were long behind him.

But perhaps new memories could still be made.

The Camaro's tires crunch over twigs and dried leaves, rolling slowly between swaying trees of green, the path becoming more and more narrow until there's no place left for him to even turn around. He sighs, knowing he'll have to reverse the entire way back out of here.

He puts the sedan into park, exiting, his arms resting on the top of the car and the door frame as he gazes ahead, wondering what direction you'd possibly gone. He shakes his head then, closing and locking the driver's side door, pocketing his keys before—at least attempting, to follow after you.

The forest is littered with trees all around, Billy winding his way through them, looking back over his shoulder occasionally, wondering if he shouldn't head back to his car and go home. You were long gone by now. Maybe you'd already circled back around yourself, heading out and to...wherever it is that you live.

This was a stupid idea. Not that he hasn't had worse.

Just as he's ready to throw in the towel and settle for you remaining a mystery to him—perhaps he'd take the alternative of having answers to instead making up tales about you, who you are, where you go, and what you do when you get there—he comes into a clearing of tall grass, a rusted steel windmill in the distance, and a two-story house that looks just a tad dilapidated to the right of it.

Surely you weren't in there?

He continues walking, glad he's wearing pants as the weeds brush against his knees. He climbs the broken front steps, the wooden banisters rotting, until he's standing before a screen door at the front of the home—or, rather, house. A home at one time to someone, he was sure. But no longer, as it'd been clearly abandoned long-ago.

He raises his fist, wondering if maybe he should knock first, then lowers it.

He pulls the door toward him, stepping inside.

He takes a moment to look around first, glancing to each side of the empty domicile. A dining room is to his right, with a table that carpenter bees have clearly been making a meal out of for some time, and a sitting room to the left, an old sofa with missing cushions in the middle of it, a coffee table covered in dust before it.

He then heads for the staircase that lies straight-ahead.

The steps creak under his heavy boots, and he fears one of his feet may just fall through one if he doesn't step carefully. Once he's reached the second-story landing, he lets loose a small breath of relief.

He turns to his left and sees a long hallway, multiple doors on either side, some open, some closed, the summer sun shining against fading yellow wallpaper through open and broken windows within the rooms.

"Hello?" He calls, only half-expecting a response...which he's not given.

He begins to head down the hall, only peeking into the rooms as he passes them, looking for you.

"Anybody here?" He tries again, and is once again met with silence; only the sound of a gentle breeze outside greets him.

He stops when he finds a room three doors down on his right that has a dirty mattress on the floor. He doesn't want to imagine the things you'd discover—new kinds of bacteria—if you took a blacklight to it.

He stands in the middle of what he assumes used to be a bedroom, hands on his hips, and he looks to the open window at his right, a soft wind causing the tattered curtains to billow.

And then he hears it. A small creak to his left, and it's only then that he realizes there's a closet, with double doors, and he sees something shift on the other side through the wooden slits.

His heart begins to beat a bit faster as he comes closer, hands resting over the small knobs, and when he pulls it open, you're standing in the middle, back against the wall, staring up at him with wide eyes.

He looks down at you, heart skipping a beat, breath taken from him for just a moment at the sight of you. You were...beautiful.

"What're you hiding in a closet for?" He asks, then kicking himself. Hell of an opening, Billy.

Your brows furrow, wondering how it's not obvious. "I was hiding from you. Who...who are you?"

You take a step toward him and he takes one back.

He slides his hands into his pockets. "Billy...Hargrove. I live just-"

"I don't care. Why are you here?"

He raises a brow. Not quite the meek little mouse he'd initially assumed, then.

He takes a look around before settling his eyes back on you once again. "Thought this place was empty."

"Well...I'm here. I found it first."

His lip twitches. "So, this is where you've been coming every day for two weeks, huh?"

You shift uncomfortably. "How do you know that...?"

He jerks his head. "Saw you on my drive home last couple of weeks." He reaches up with his right hand then, running it over the curls at the back of his head nervously. "I got curious, I guess. About what was out here that was so interesting to make you keep coming back over and over again."

He looks back to the mattress, then to you. "You don't sleep here, do you, kid?"

You cross your arms at the infantilizing term. "I don't see how that's any of your business. Now that you know what's out here, feel free to leave."

He smirks. You were a firecracker. That much was for certain. Almost reminds him of himself once upon a time.

"Place looks like it should be condemned. If not tore down altogether."

You balk then. "You won't tell anyone. Will you?"

He shakes his head. "No. But, you do know it's not safe for you here, right? All alone like th-"

You pick up your backpack, shrugging it on. "I'm fine."

You head into another room, trying to get away from him—or, rather, hoping he'll finally get the hint that you'd like for him to leave—and he follows along behind you.

"Never told me your name."

You roll your eyes and stay silent.

He nods. "Strong, silent type, I get it. Guess I'll just have to guess. Is it-"

You turn back to him then, and he nearly trips trying not to fall against you. "Y/N."

He smiles. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

You cock your head to the side for a moment. "I doubt it."

You head into another room then, slamming the door in his face.

He just grins as he turns the handle...and discovers it's now locked from the other side, smile falling.

He knocks then and is, of course, given no response.

He leans against the wall with his shoulder, arms crossed and he licks his lips. "I can wait all day. Got no place better to be."

All is quiet, until he hears something being shoved open on the other side of the door—a window? And then a thump.

Were...were you climbing down the side of the damn house?

He turns the handle again to no avail, so he then quickly walks down the hall, racing down the steps, and when he rounds the side of the house, he sees you jogging through the tall weeds, backpack bouncing as you disappear into the tree line.

He crosses his arms, smiling, shaking his head. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he mutters to himself before turning around to start heading back to his car.

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 7

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

5k words

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

A/N: Happy New Year! I ran out of steam there for a while but I am bursting with new inspiration and have a billion ideas for new and old fics! Thank you for your patience and support 💜

The next night after dropping you off at home, there was a storm the likes of which Hawkins had never seen. Lightning lit up the sky through the night like a shitty rave, knocking out the power for Forest Hills Trailer Park for the better part of two days. It wasn’t until Saturday, when Eddie attempted to check in on Ronnie again, that he realized that their worn out phone had been completely fried. Shit.

Getting a new one was easier said than done, Eddie and Wayne had to pinch pennies this week after his uncle had been out of work a few days because of a cold, and having to replace a good chunk of groceries that had gone bad sitting in the dead fridge.

Sure, Bev had been nice enough to give Eddie a few extra shifts at the Hideout to help cover but that was a paycheck that wasn’t going to be in for another week. There was always his dealings, but he’d been keeping his head down after nearly having his stash blown by an over enthusiastic K-9 unit that, thankfully, was more interested in the jerky that Eddie had in his jacket.

For a week, he’d been without a phone now. Normally it wasn’t a huge loss, not many people actually bothered trying to call him anyway, and Wayne didn’t really socialize much working the night shift. But he missed Ronnie, and he really was stressing each day that went by that he didn’t call you. Eddie knew that whatever this was, he was probably already blowing it.

Tuesday rolled around again, and he hoped that you’d show back up to the Hideout. Jeff had even agreed to give most of the band a ride if Eddie agreed to haul their equipment and do all of the breakdown in case you needed another ride home. No such luck though, unbeknownst to him Keith had come down with the same cold that his Uncle Wayne had the week before, meaning you had to work a double.

It was now Friday, over a week since you’d written your name in the most stubborn permanent marker he’d ever come across. Your name still stained his skin in a faint and ugly shade of pea green. Eddie could now say your number by memory, despite never having punched in the digits once. If anyone at school had noticed that Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson had a girl's name on his arm, they didn’t say anything.

“Whose number is that?” Mike asked in the middle of a time out while Zach and Gareth were pouring over the rule book over the legality of a move that Eddie was sure was bullshit. So much for that.

Eddie’s head snapped over to the freshman while those in Corroded Coffin snickered and suddenly lost interest in the rules for the moment. With the candles and stage lights on, it was always warm in the Hellfire room, and Eddie had stripped his jacket giving his arms a chance to breathe while he guided the party on their next adventure.

It had also meant that the faded remains of your number was still visible, which he hadn’t thought much of until Mike had pointed it out.

“Yeah, Eddie, whose number is it?” Jeff snickered, which earned a hard look from Eddie that under any other circumstances would have shut Jeff up but in this case only made him laugh harder.

For a moment he debated internally about putting his jacket on, and telling them all to shove it. It was tempting, very tempting, but Eddie wasn’t a teen anymore. Hell, he had a good two to three years on most of the members in this club. Why should he be embarrassed because a cute girl had some sort of interest in him?

Because you’re blowing it by not being able to call her. He told himself.

Eddie then told the table about how you’d given him your number right before he dropped you off. How you’d been a perfect gentleman and hadn’t taken advantage of him or made any untowards moves to him. (Even if he had thought you almost did, but he kept that part to himself).

To his surprise, the ribbing was kept to a minimal. Without Eddie fighting against it, the group became less interested. Eddie’s love life was only of interest when it meant that the sheep could finally have some fun with the shepard.

That was going to be the end of it. Jeff had conceded that the rule they were looking up had been an old house rule from his middle school group that he had never questioned as not actually being accurate, and they were ready to move on. Eddie opened his mouth to guide the party to the next encounter-

“I thought you said you weren’t interested in her.” Dustin suddenly said. Eddie had thought that the shrimp had been suspiciously quiet for the past few minutes.

“If that was him not interested then I’m quitting Hellfire to be a cheerleader.” laughed Gareth.

“No one wants to see you in a miniskirt, man.” said Mike.

“They have guy cheerleaders!” protested Gareth. “I’d wear the pants.”

“That’d be a first.” ribbed Zack.

“Don’t you have to be crazy strong to be a cheerleader? Gareth, your strength stat sucks.”

“I haul my own drumset every week!”

“Can we get back to the game?”

“Eddie,” Dustin spoke up again. His brows were furrowed and he was messing with his pencil, the same way he did when someone in the party was about to do something that didn’t make any sense. “You did say you weren’t interested.”

So much for Eddie’s love life being of no interest, he now had a herd of sheep looking at him expectantly, no longer talking about Gareth possibly changing after school activities. He should ignore it, get everyone back on track, and lead them back into the Forbidden Caves where he was not tempted to throw a mimic in for messing with the flow of the game.

He should... but Dustin’s comment bugged him for some reason.

“I never said that.” Eddie said, looking at the kid.

“What? Yeah you did!” Dustin looked as shocked as Eddie felt. When had he ever said he wasn’t interested in you?

“Oh yeah, when?” Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back in his throne, his eyes narrowing.

“At the arcade!” Dustin sounded frustrated. “You told me that you didn’t want me introducing you to anyone when we were doing Hellfire related shit, and that you weren’t interested anyway.”

The warmth from the candles and stage lights were nothing compared to the heat of everyone’s eyes on him. What the fuck was Henderson even talking about?

Oh. Oh what the fuck?!

“Excuse me?�� Eddie said slowly as that thirty second conversation started to play in his mind.

“Yeah, I remember that.” Mike added, in an attempt to back up his friend. “We just assumed she wasn’t your type.”

Eddie hadn’t been looking to be anyone’s boyfriend. He was never looking to be dating anyone, the few times he’d found himself in the good graces of a girl who’d shown interest in him it had always blown up in his face.

That had never stopped him from trying though.

“Are- wait. Back up.” Eddie stood up and made his way over to the opposite end of the table where the freshmen were suddenly looking very nervous. He grabbed them by the shoulders, as he’d done so many times in the past and hauled them up while the rest of the table watched on in amusement. Normally, Eddie would never pause the game but, fuck it. This kid had something to do with you, and he was going to figure out what.

“Jesus, Eddie-” Mike said, wincing at the grip. “I don’t have anything to do with this, it was all Dustin and Steve!”

This was getting more and more confusing by the moment. Eddie shoved the two boys to face them, leaning over them. Even with Mike’s growth spurt over the past few months, somehow Eddie still seemed to tower over them.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice was slow, trying to understand why that name was even being spoken in the private sanctuary away from jocks.

“Yes, Steve! They’re like, best friends or something! Ask Dustin!” Mike said, throwing his friend under the bus.

“What’s the big deal?!” Dustin asked, looking between Mike and Eddie with a look of bewilderment.

“Henderson, you have thirty seconds to explain what the actual Hell is going on before your character becomes Quasit food.” Eddie said, releasing his grip on both of the freshmen.

“Okay, okay!” Dustin held his hand up in surrender, looking nervous as everyone watched the scene unfold. “So, you know how her and Steve work together? Well, they had a deal going on where they’d help get each other dates.”

Eddie’s head tilted down slightly, but his eyes stayed firmly focused on Dustin. This was making less and less sense by the minute. Steve needed help getting dates? King Steve of Hawkins High who had the pick of any girl in school before he graduated? That Steve Harrington couldn’t get a date and so had recruited you into helping him?

And you, you with the everything about you couldn’t get a date either? Hadn’t you mentioned something about that before, at the Hideout?

“I help him and he uh... he helps me get out of the house.”

You’d said that, and he hadn’t thought much of it until now. All this time, Eddie had thought the arcade incident had been Dustin trying to have his two older male friends meet and be friends, but it had been you that he was supposed to meet?

“So you’re telling me that you, Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington were trying to set me up on a date?” Eddie looked over at the rest of the table that looked just as bewildered as he did. This was a prank, right? He’d been tossed into some sort of alternate dimension where a freshman and a jock had any sort of interest in his love life, in any part of his life. He’d sooner believe that he’d run a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham than this.

“Well, technically we were trying to set her up on a date and you seemed like a good fit?” Dustin’s answer came out as more of a question, leaving Eddie’s mind reeling. Behind him, he could hear the growing snickers of the party.

Eddie was ready for this to start making sense any time now.

“So she was helping Steve get dates and he wanted to set her up with me?” Nope, even after thinking it a half dozen times it still wasn’t clicking.

“That part was my idea actually!” Dustin said, showing off a smile filled with metal. “She’s pretty weird and Steve said she was picky-”

“Can’t be that picky if she was interested in Eddie.” muttered Gareth, earning another round of laughter at the table.

Eddie didn’t even have it in him to shoot another look at the table as he continued to try and piece together what was going on.

You and Steve had a deal to try and get each other dates. You were picky and so Dustin suggested Eddie. Steve then brought you to the arcade to force a meeting and-

“Wait, did she know that she was supposed to meet me?” Eddie asked suddenly.

“Oh yeah, she knew the whole time in the arcade.” Dustin nodded, hoping that Eddie wasn’t about to blow a fuse over this. “Well, she figured it out at least. See she was just supposed to be tagging along with Steve to find guys to flirt with but then uh... she realized she was supposed to meet you.”

“And she didn’t know who I was?” Eddie clarified, thinking back to the way you’d tried to talk to him about Hellfire, Chris Morrison, anything to try and start a conversation. How the hell was it that he could remember every time you two met so clearly, but you didn’t know who he actually was?

Because it wasn’t about you, Eddie. He had to remind himself.

Dustin shrugged. “I guess not? She’s never mentioned you before that night.”

Guess not everyone paid attention to the Freak. He hated that it bugged him that you didn’t remember him but could he blame you? He probably wouldn’t remember him either, just a Munson fuck up who everyone was waiting to end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Eddie pushed Dustin back down into his seat, done interrogating the poor freshman. Everyone watched as he made his way back to his side of the table, behind the DM screen. He had a lot to think about, but he wasn’t about to start processing that in front of the rest of Hellfire.

“You all wander deeper into the cave, the only light coming from the torch carried by-”

“I have dark vision!”

Broke and bored, Eddie haunted the trailer for the rest of the weekend. He did have practice with Corroded Coffin for a generous two hours on Saturday, and then a long shift that night at the Hideout where one old drunk had slipped him a $10 tip for making sure he always had a cold beer in hand. But those few hours were just a minor reprieve from the information that Dustin had given him the previous day.

When he wasn’t distracted by work or practice he was practicing guitar, working on lyrics, prepping for the next Hellfire session.

He tried to think about you, but ended up feeling confused. When he was trying to think about anything else, all he could see was the way you had flirted with him at the Hideout.

Despite popular opinion, Eddie wasn’t stupid when it came to girls. He could tell when a girl was interested in him, and you had made it clear that you had at least some interest in him. You had told him point blank that you were not with Harrington, and had no interest as well. He’d seen the way you looked at him while watching them play, that excitement in your eyes. Your head had bobbed to the rhythm of their songs watching them with as much enthusiasm as if you’d been a fan for years.

Paige had watched with similar eyes, right? She’d seen something in them that no one else had before-

No. Not them. Not Corroded Coffin. Just Eddie.

It felt pathetic that he kept comparing you to Paige. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to. It wasn’t like he was still hung up on Paige, not really. She’d just been a turning point in who he was as a person. She’d been the first (and last) girl to really look at him as a person. If his dating prospects had been small before, they had completely dried up over the past two years.

Date the freak? Yeah, right. There had been the odd girl who’d hit on him as if daring themselves to get with him but he was done with that. A few mediocre dates that he’d agreed to out of boredom or loneliness had only added to the idea in Hawkins High that he was undesirable. Adding to that, the older he got, the younger his underclassmen became and the idea of dating someone younger was... well he didn’t need to add ‘creep’ to the long list of rumors about him. It didn’t matter to him most of the time, instead focusing on his friends, his band, his club, his business, himself. God knows he’d never be able to hold down a relationship unless he got his shit together and earned everyone’s trust again.

“Graduate and get laid, Munson.” Ronnie’s voice echoed in the back of his mind and he groaned as his face warmed. It was the middle of the week, just over two weeks since the night at the Hideout. Eddie was laying on the old couch face down, his homework on the counter half finished and the blue glow of the tv doing little to distract him.

The sound of the door opening didn’t even phase him enough to look up, even as Wayne grunted out a hello before setting something down on the counter next to his forgotten schoolbooks.

“Did you eat?” Wayne asked, which earned a shrug from Eddie. How could he think about eating when he was stuck thinking about everything else?

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been moping around for the past few weeks?” Wayne tried again in an attempt to be a good guardian. When that didn’t work either he sighed and said “Might as well step outside with me and have a smoke.”

It was better than doing whatever the hell else Eddie was doing now, and so he rolled off the couch less than gracefully and followed his uncle out onto the porch to sit on the outdoor couch. Wayne offered him the smoke and for a moment it was peaceful. Wayne wasn’t one to push Eddie to talk about anything, but he did have a way to make him think even if it did piss him off occasionally.

Eddie took a long drag of the cigarette and released it slowly as he stared up at the sky. It was a dark night, a million tiny dots illuminating the trailer park, even if the moon wasn’t out. He scanned the stars, looking for the three that he knew were Orion’s belt. That’s about where his astrology knowledge began and ended, but it was something to look for at least.

“I think a girl likes me.” He finally said as he spotted what he assumed was the constellation he was looking for.

“Yeah?” Wayne asked, his own eyes gazing upwards as well, giving Eddie the space to talk more.

“Yeah.”

It was silent again for a few minutes as they smoked, the only other sound for a while was that of Wayne cracking open a beer. That’s what Eddie appreciated about Wayne, he didn’t need to fill the silence like his dad did, and Eddie didn’t need to either. He could just... exist.

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Eddie finally said a while later. “She only has an interest because her and some jock are trying to get each other dates.”

“Is that right?” Coming from anyone else that question would have been dismissive, a filler phrase to show that they were paying minimal attention. Eddie knew better though, which caused a knot of frustration in his gut.

“I guess.” he shrugged.

“How many dates has she gone on?” Wayne passed the beer to Eddie, who took a grateful sip.

“Don’t know. It didn’t sound like she’d been on many. Henderson said she’s picky.”

“But she likes you.”

“Yeah.”

Another long stretch of silence as Eddie stewed over the question. He hated how Wayne could break down his problems into simple questions.

“Don’t see why you’re moping around if she likes you.” Wayne glanced over at Eddie. “Are you sweet on her?”

Eddie snorted at the term, taking another drag from the cigarette and flicking the ashes off the porch. “She’s cute.” he said, thinking about how you’d looked the last few times he’d seen you. He might have been distracted that first night at the arcade, but not so distracted that he didn’t notice that at least. “Smart too. She got the guys to listen to her last time we hung out.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “She got Gareth to pay attention? That’s a damn miracle.”

“They liked her too.”

“More than the California girl?”

The question caught Eddie off guard and he looked up at Wayne who was still looking off in the distance. Eddie had never explained exactly to Wayne what had happened that first senior year, most of the details going to what happened with Al when Officer Morris was shot. They never talked about how Eddie was so damn close to packing everything up and running away to California.

Thinking about everything that happened that year still stung. Eddie had tried hard not to think about what could have been if CJ and Toby had just shown up one or two days later. Would Eddie have made it to the audition? Would they have really liked him? Maybe in another life he’d be signed and he’d be working on an album or on tour and him and Paige...

It didn’t matter, that ship had long since sailed. Eddie was no rock hero, and never would be. He tried to tell himself it was better this way, if anything it meant that his relationship with Al was over and done with which was a hollow victory if he was being honest.

“Definitely more than her.” Eddie finally agreed. You weren’t asking him to ditch the band and run away with you, so that had to give you some points for them, and for him. Dustin vouched for you, and even Mike, but he wasn’t sure how much that counted for yet. After all Dustin still seemed to worship Steve, and you were friends with Steve-

But did that actually matter? If you and Steve were close enough friends to help each other like this, and Steve was willing to vouch for Eddie, despite never having any real conversation just because Dustin said something-

“She gonna ask you to run away?” Wayne was now looking at Eddie again.

Sometimes he wondered if his uncle could secretly read minds.

“Doubt it.” Eddie said, “She works at the video store. I don’t know much about her, honestly.”

“So ask her on a date.”

“What?”

“She likes you, you want to get to know her. Ask her on a date. It’s not that complicated, Eddie.” Wayne dropped the cigarette on the porch and crushed it under his boot. “You always did think too much, always sucked up in your own world. You’ll be happier in the long run if you open up a bit.”

Easier said than done for a 20 year old still in high school that the whole town considered a satanic cult leader. Then again, when was the last time he’d really opened up to anyone other than Ronnie or Wayne? Right, his dad in the weeks before the heist.

“I think I fucked this up before I could even start.” Eddie sighed, snuffing out his own half finished cigarette. “She gave me her number and I never called.”

“Could’a grabbed a quarter from the change jar and used a pay phone.”

Eddie pressed his hands against his face and dragged them down slowly. Why did good advice always come too late for him?

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought back a new phone for the kitchen today.”

Eddie’s head snapped up so fast he should have snapped something, his eyes widening.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s a new used phone. Guy down the line from me offered it up and it’s better than nothing.”

Eddie didn’t care if it was a rotary phone, he’d take anything at this point if it meant that he could try to call you.

He wanted to call you.

He wanted to call you. Eddie didn’t care if you remembered that first time you met, did it even really matter? You had an interest in him, Eddie Munson, now.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie stood up and hurried inside, seeing the new old phone that was sitting on the counter. It took a few minutes of making sure it wouldn’t fall off the wall before he plugged it in and heard that sweet dial tone sound.

Eddie grabbed his copy of Lord of the Rings from his bedside table and pulled out the paper flower, looking at the number scribbled in his own chicken scratch. He didn’t trust himself to punch in the number without checking, no matter how many times he read the ten digits over the past two weeks.

It rang once.

Twice.

Six times.

No response.

“It’s late, she might be asleep.” Wayne said, grabbing a box of pasta from the cabinet.

It wasn’t that late, not even 8:30 yet. Eddie sighed and hung up the phone, crossing his arms as he thought about his next move. He’d always had tunnel vision when he got an idea into his head, from Corroded Coffin, to his campaigns, to a book that he wanted to read, it was hard to shake the urge when he got one.

Grabbing the keys from the counter he called over to Wayne “I’ll be back later.” which was responded to with a confirmation that he’d save some pasta for Eddie in the fridge.

There weren’t many places he could think of where you could be tonight. You hadn’t shown back up at the Hideout, and the arcade was closed this late on a weeknight. You could be at home, but Eddie didn’t remember where you lived and showing up to your place after two weeks of radio silence would definitely get him in trouble.

So he drove to Family Video.

If you were there he’d do.. something. If you weren’t he’d call you after school tomorrow. Eddie winced internally at the thought. He’d been trudging through school and dragging his feet for the past six years to graduate, and now was the time he felt childish about it. You could legally buy him a beer, and he could illegally sneak you a drink in the Hideout.

At a stoplight he swapped out the Black Sabbath tape for W.A.S.P., remembering that you had mentioned liking them. How did he continue to remember these small details about you?

Because she’s treated you like a human each time you’ve talked. It was startling how something so basic was such a big deal to him.

The lights were still on at Family Video, and the open sign was still lit up. He could see movement inside the store, and he caught sight of someone wearing the signature green vest that the employees wore.

He’d walk in, and if you were there he’d- fuck what the hell was he supposed to do? Eddie stared at the door from inside his van for a few minutes. It was past nine now, and he could have sworn that they should be closed now but that stupid sign was still on. That had to be a good sign right? Eddie wasn’t one to believe in stuff like that but maybe he’d be stupid to ignore a literal neon sign hanging in the door.

Okay, now or never. Eddie had never really been one to hesitate before and he wasn’t about to start now.

He made his way to the entrance and opened the door before he could think about what he was actually wanting to do. Eddie could improvise, it was one of the more useful skills that came from years of running Hellfire.

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” Your voice was a welcome sound, sealing the determination inside of him. No going back now.

“It was Steve’s job to-” your co-worker said. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place a name to the face.

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was the first to actually notice Eddie as he walked in, looking as if he was expecting literally anyone else.

Turning on the Freak, Eddie smirked at Steve. “Cursing in front of customers, Harrington? Now that’s not very professional of you.”

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips in a way that reminded Eddie of a mother hen. Steve did have a point, and so he decided to cut through any bullshit and looked over at you. You looked like you’d had a long shift, but the way you were looking at him... there was still the same shock that was on Steve’s face, but while his shock was laced with confusion yours was excited. As if you couldn’t believe that The Freak was here and that was a good thing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie blurted out the request before he could think. He had no idea where you two would go or what you would do but he had to do something.

Your coworker nudged you in the ribs, and your expression changed to a more professional one.

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, looking at Steve for a split second.

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Eddie made a mental note to learn this girls name and send her a fucking gift basket one day.

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, reaching down to grab something from below the counter- your bag. Eddie felt himself growing more excited, his heart pounding as you tossed your work vest and keys over to them. They were basically shoving you out the door to spend time with him.

“We can handle it!” Steve said.

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You stepped out from behind the counter, looking up at him. The color of your eyes under the fluorescent lights reminded him of the stars he had been looking at earlier this evening. Eddie found himself smiling at you as you opened the door for him.

Someone was quick to lock the door and turn the OPEN sign off.

Eddie opens his van door for you, trying his best to make a good impression for whatever was about to happen. You hopped into the passenger seat and he thought that he might enjoy seeing you sitting next to him like this in his van more often.

---

Next Chapter

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[nellielsss]

ɢᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴅᴏɴᴇ, ɴᴀɪʟꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ!

╰┈➤ A new outfit and your Fendi shoes ᡣ𐭩

For when your man sees you after you ran your "errands," AKA getting a blowout, mani-pedi, and anything else you might've needed done. Who is he to resist when his chick looks so good? (Songfic inspired by Jumpin' Jumpin' by Destiny's Child.) Toji Fushiguro/Zen'in x transfem!reader (pre-Mamagumi because you are Mamagumi) Includes: Toji Fushiguro (might add more chars later! this is just me testing the waters)

╰┈➤ It's a well known fact that Toji Zen'in doesn't come from a whole lot of money (well, he does; he was just abused and kicked out by said money), but that was never an issue for the man when it came to making it. He could earn plenty of money other ways such as taking up odd jobs, carrying out bounties, etc. So when he started dating your high maintenance self, he knew he'd have to up his earnings in order to provide for you (partner lemme Upgrade U). He's a simple man after all - why wouldn't he wanna provide for you, even if it was just by giving you a few hundred dollars to run your errands? Quite possibly the only thing that he kept from his family was his provider mentality. Never again would he see someone close to him suffer or starve because of his shortcomings.

Hearing the car pull into the lot, Toji knew it was you when you came home from the music that he could hear through the walls—that infectious late 90s beat creeping through his veins. He paused the MMA fight he was watching, turning around as the door hinges creaked open.

"Tojiii, I’m home!" you sang from the doorway, putting your keys away in your cute little Dior saddle (the one Toji got you after saving up several paychecks). Toji walked over with a big grin on his face, encircling his arms around your body out of habit. "Uh-uh, don't touch the hair just yet," you piped up, putting your hands in front of him to stop him from getting too close to you and potentially ruining your perfect hair.

Toji couldn't help but let out a laugh and shake his head. "C'mon, doll, just lemme give you a kiss," he said in that deliciously raspy voice of his. You reluctantly obliged, letting him put his hands on your hips, pull you in for a kiss, and sigh into it. "Now, let's see those nails of yours," he added with a big grin on his face, taking both of your hands and holding them up.

He let out a low whistle. "Damn, baby, that's a good manicurist ya got there. I should give them a big fat tip for keeping my girl so cute." The design in question were pink, blue & yellow nails with some hibiscus flowers & a cute little anime reference here & there (insert your fav Shōjo)—a perfect set for the summertime.

You let out a giggle, pulling your hands back and laughing at him. "Okay, okay, you can touch the hair," you relented, turning your head for extra effect.

"Right, the perfect hair that you don't wanna fuck up” he murmured, shaking his head. "I'm like a bull in a china shop, eh?"

"Yeah, 'cus you're a big brute," you snarked, making him smack you on the ass out of jest. He was a brute, but he knew how to be careful around you. "Nah, but for real, doll, you look fuckin' fantastic," he said in a more serious yet complimentary tone. "That bounce in your hair makes you look mighty fine."

You allowed him to run his hands through your silky, freshly-washed hair, reveling in the way his fingers felt on your scalp. "Feels even better with ol’ Toji’s fingers in it, yeah? I could touch this shit alll day long." He put his hands up when you shot him a look at that statement. "Or... for as long as you'll let me."

His hands left your scalp, only to trail down your cheek, all the way onto your chin. "Can I kiss you, princess?"

"Mhm," you murmured, bringing a scarred smile to his handsome face. He leaned in, giving you a slower, more passionate kiss than before.

"Fuck... y'lip gloss tastes so yummy," he murmured against your lips. "I can't get enough of you, y'know baby? My pretty little princess... I should show you off when you get all this shit done, make everyone 'round the block jealous."

"I was actually gonna go out with my friends later today," you piped up, pulling away slightly. "I was listening to Jumpin' Jumpin' earlier, and it made me wanna go out."

Toji didn't look disappointed at this news; rather, his smile widened. "Yeah? You havin' a girls' night?" He asked, eyebrows raised slightly. You nodded, shooting him another smile.

"Y'know, blowouts last a few days, especially when they're done by a real professional like the one I've been going to for six years. Plus, I know how to upkeep it on my own."

Toji chuckled, shaking his head. "I knew those hair products were for somethin'. Nah, I'm not upset or anything, baby; I'm happy for you—happy that you've got a nice group of girls to hangout with. You deserve it all, sweetheart. The cute outfits, the fun friends; and the sexy boyfriend of 'yers." He couldn't help but reach out and grab your jaw softly, rubbing it and eliciting a big, blushy smile from you. "Aww, would you look at that pretty smile? Love it when you smile like that. I don’t get why you used to be so insecure ‘bout it."

You pulled away once again, not wanting it to go any longer and lead to anything too sweaty. "I promise I'll come right back home afterwards. I won't give any random guys an opportunity to shoot their shot with me," you reassured him. "Y'know, I think you might've domesticated me in a way, Toji. I'm always looking forward to coming home to you after everything's said and done."

"Yeah?" he asked again, amused by your admission. "Well I'm glad, baby. We go together real well, hm?" He couldn't resist the urge to pull you in with both of his arms around your waist, nuzzling his lips into your neck. "I'm already looking forward to your homecoming, princess. I wanna feel those nails raking up and down my back."

"Toji, stop!" You said with a giggle. "You're gonna flatten my hair at this rate." "Oh, yeah? Y'know, even with flat hair, you'd still be the prettiest girl in the room. To me at least." Toji left one last kiss on your neck before letting you go, watching as you picked up the shopping bags on the floor.

"I need to go... put these clothes away before they wrinkle," you said, struggling to balance all the bags on your arms.

"Please, lemme help you," he said, grabbing the bags for you and carrying them to your shared room. He pushed the door open, carrying the bags as if they were light as air, setting them down outside of the closet. "I dunno know why you buy all that stuff if you can barely carry it. What would you do without your boyfriend?" he asked cockily.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head just a little. "Thanks, baby," you said gratefully, pressing a kiss to Toji's cheek.

"Anytime." He eyed the bags curiously, wondering what could possibly be inside of them. A new pair of Manolos? A new dress? He would never admit it, but he loved it when you shopped and bought new things. You always had impeccable taste, and he adored the way you put yourself together. "So, doll," he finally said after mustering up the courage. "Mind letting me see what you got?"

┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆ Mini-skip

Toji made sure that you made good on your word that night regarding trying out your nails. He didn't waste a single time welcoming you home after your girls' night out, taking you right up to your shared bedroom with a grin on his face, sloppily kissing up your neck and peeling off your dress.

Right now? He was all but plowing you into the mattress, as he always did when he fucked your brains out. "Fuck, baby," he growled, looking down at you as he made sweet, sweet love to you. "You always look so... fuckin' good underneath me like this, but that blowout just adds the finishing touch. Even if your... hair's all fucked up, I'll take you to the salon for another one."

You, meanwhile, weren't able to process what he was muttering into your ear. You probably couldn't even discern if he was calling you a whore or asking you to marry him; it just felt so good.

"Fuck, oh, fucking fuck, T-Toji!" You moaned into his ear, moaning and writhing about underneath the big brute's frame.

Toji let out a breathless chuckle at your incoherent babbling. "Never heard you say 'fuck' so many times in one sentence - maybe I could make you say it a few more times!"

He readjusted the angle at which he was snapping his hips into your ass, fucking you even deeper as if that could even be possible. "Feel my dick inside of ya? Rearranging your guts? Shiiit, doll, take it like you mean it. Gonna stuff ya full of my fucking cum, you won’t be able to strut 'yer shit anymore,” he drawled, slapping your jiggly ass with his calloused fingers.

He picked up on the way that you were holding onto him, your hands gripping the muscles that lined his broad back. "Such a bully," you whimpered, "quit bullyin' me, Toji! Y’know I can’t take it when you- you pound me like this!!" You complained, tears welling up in your eyes. He let out a laugh at your pleas, cooing into your ear. "C'mon, baby; I'd never bully you. I don't think bullying involves making you cum over and over again now, does it?" He cocked his head, smiling like a devil at the sight of you so fucked out because of just a few hip movements. "Besides, you know how to take it. I’ve trained you to take this dick. Remember how you could barely move when we first started dating? Shit, I'm the best tutor there is.”

After a few more huffs and strokes of the cock, he asked: “Why don't you... drag those nails down my back, yeah? Leave a few marks on my muscles?"

You eagerly obliged, raking your nails up and down his muscled back. "Yeah, that's it, there you go, my sweet baby. Make my back fuckin' bleed baby girl," he praised, purring into your ear. He threw his head back, the slightly painful scratching making him even harder and hornier (as if that was even possible).

He threw his head back then looked back down at you. "I'm gonna fuck you 'til my back's bloodier than a mary."

Suffice to say, he loved your nails.

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/5/2024

[hrts4hanniehae]

clutch || one

there are written parts :)

the good thing about being a game streamer was that when you were famous, your salary was kind of high. the bad thing was that the streaming platform wonwoo uses... started taking a huge cut of his earnings, leading him to this situation.

voice call

"okay to be honest, wonwoo, you were kind of stupid in the sense that you didn't buy your house but rented instead."- mingyu

"2 years ago, i was broke, mingyu. i just finished university and needed a place big enough for me and seollie. this place was very cheap for the amount of space." - wonwoo

"can't you buy this place outright? you have the money... right?" - mingyu

"my streaming platform started taking 30% of my earnings. and the building's owner changed, so there was a rent increase. it'll take me a long time to buy this apartment outright. by the time i can, i'll be in debt." - wonwoo

"so a roommate!" - mingyu

"why can't you be my roommate?" - wonwoo

"i already bought myself a place. plus your apartment is really far from my restaurant." - mingyu

"so how do you come by every morning to cook me food?" - wonwoo

"my restaurant is only open for dinner. i'm a celebrity chef, wonwoo. if it was open the whole day, i wouldn't get any rest. anyways, talk to the girl. she may be quite a good roommate for you." - mingyu

"sure..." - wonwoo

she fixed her hair and checked her face in her camera again. this was her 5th try at apartment hunting. when her ex-boyfriend decided to cheat on her and steal her studio apartment, she lost many things. apparently, no one liked rooming with an artist because they were "messy" and may dirty the apartment.

"i swear if this guy rejects me i have no options left... please oh my god PLEASE let me stay here... don't screw up the interview..."

"yn ln?"

mind you, she had never seen her potential roommate's face before and she definitely did not expect someone of MODEL STANDARDS to be calling her name.

"jeon wunwoo?"

"wonwoo. jeon wonwoo."

ah... i've already screwed up.

"oh i'm so sorry..."

"it's fine. come on up."

she's funny... who the hell monologues out loud?

"so these will be your rooms. they're connected by the closet." - wonwoo

"i get two rooms?" - yn

"don't you need space to do your art?" - wonwoo

"oh. oh yea. thank you." - yn

"oh yea. i also have a dog, seollie. she's my family dog. i hope your not allergic." - wonwoo

"i'm not. I love dogs!" - yn

"that's good. also, there's only one bathroom so please remember to knock before entering." - wonwoo

"ah okay. wait but i thought we were having an interview. you're showing me around as if you've already decided i'm moving in." - yn

"are you not?" - wonwoo

"oh i am?" - yn

"i prefer to deal with things quickly. this roommate idea was my friend's, not mine. so i would really rather the first "candidate" be the last." - wonwoo

"i have no complaints. when can i move in? i promise i'll be out of here by the end of next year." - yn

"we have a deal. you can move in starting tomorrow." - wonwoo

"any roommate rules or do we draft that out tomorrow?" - yn

"... tomorrow." - wonwoo

"great. thanks. I'll be back tomorrow with my stuff." - yn

ฅ^•���•^ฅ

a/n - i screw up the tweet dates A LOT so please just ignore them most of the time okay... I don't like the dates either but my app doesn't let me remove them also i'm assuming seollie is a sheepadoodle and a female and i'm so sorry if i'm wrong but there's too little info on wonwoo's family dog to be accurate.

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23 ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

main masterlist

smau socials

previous I next

tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @yandere-stories @coupshour

[riselittlesally]

Know Your Power—Not Your Place

I work. I have always worked. I will admit that it was not always easy. The mother in me wrestled with working outside of our home, while the career side of me struggled with balancing the two. All the while, my husband and I struggled financially to live the American dream of owning a home and two cars to drive to our jobs that at times, fell short of putting food on our table. But while I struggled to be this ideological mother that television depicted, I also knew that the 1950s left most women dissatisfied with their place in this world. I knew this because I grew up in one of those houses.

My father worked and my mother stayed home to care for my siblings and I, where she played the part of housekeeper, cook, and baby maker. She had no voice in any of their arguments. She had no control of any of the money he earned and spent. There were days when he would roll up in the driveway in a brand-new car that she knew we could not afford, yet there it sat all shiny and new, mocking her as his words rang loud in her ears that he earned the money, and he could spend it.

And then the dark days came. The days of him working late, only for my mother to discover that his paycheck hours did not reflect the hours he should have been paid, and she did a little reflecting of her own. It was an affair to remember. A wife with five children, no job, no money, and no place to go, except to their bedroom to cry and ask GOD why. Only GOD wasn't to blame for her situation. She allowed him to make her small and keep her small throughout their marriage. Witnessing her response taught me to fight for the right to be happy. GOD did not place her in that position, but her position, positioned me to make better choices in my own life.

My Mother and Father remained married, but I do not believe my mother was ever really happy. She was far from fulfilled, and far from anything of which she was capable. Back then, I do not believe that she could articulate it or understand it for what it was. She only saw her place carved out by other women, and a society built by men telling her that she should know her place. The places that all women back then knew, the kitchen, the bedroom, the baby-maker, and as the role of nurturer.

So, when I hit motherhood and the push and pull within me started, I recalled her struggles, and I put on my big girl panties and went off to work. Being stuck is not a place I will ever be. If you can get behind this, I invite you to come along.

#feminism #politics #religion #politics #democrat #dumptrump #whenrightequalswrong #riselittlesally #vote blue #vote Harris #vote democrat

[exquisiteserotonin]

I haven't written fic in such a long time, but Pedro is such a muse. Also I initially thought my writings were going to be on my original tumblr, but I decided to move them here for organization. Enjoy! <3

Better Than Vanilla

Mr. Ben x F! Reader

Word Count: 5.9K

Pairing: Mr. Ben (SNL) x F!Reader (HS English Teacher)

Warnings: 18+,MDNI, Explicit content, SMUT, language, oral sex (male and female receiving), light bondage, PIV sex, praise, Mr. Ben is the consent king.

“So, when you get a steal, you have to conference with your team,” you emphasize, hoping that your exasperation wasn’t obvious.

One of the 6 students in your classroom began crunching on a snack he reached for in his backpack.

“Ugh!” exclaimed one of the female students, snapping a dirty look at him. “He’s not being serious!”

The student raised his hands and shrugged, “What? I’m hungry? Coach, pleeeease?”

The urge to roll your eyes grew as you heard the student whine. Ben, your colleague and academic team co-advisor, snatched up the packet of Voortman vanilla wafers.

“Thanks for the snack, kid!” he quipped as placed the wafers on your desk with a wink before turning back to your group of students. “I think we’re gonna call it a day, don’t you think?”

A sigh of relief floated from your students as they hoisted on their backpacks to leave. You also felt a weight lift off your chest and shoulders as the left. A small smile was all you could muster as the last of them shuffled out of your room. Two students lingered behind giggling as they asked Mr. Ben for extra advice. You sauntered over to your desk and sunk into your chair, organizing the mountain of papers screaming to be graded. Meanwhile the two lingerers continued their giggles as they left your classroom. Their goodbye to you was friendly and quick, the opposite of the one they offered to your counterpart.

“Bye, Mr. Beeeeeeeen.”

It escaped their lips like a squeal. Adding a groan to your eye roll seemed apropos, but you managed to keep your composure. Supervising and sponsoring an extracurricular club full of hormonal teenagers was a small price to pay, especially if it meant more money in your paycheck. You at least had the company of a colleague despite him being the object of infatuation for nearly half the student body of St Lawrence High School. Ben sat at the corner of your desk, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater and button-up shirt.

“Thanks for taking those, by the way,” you commented as he grabbed the confiscated vanilla wafers and popped one in his mouth, savoring it.

“God, I love these!” he declared, devouring another one after the first.

“Ugh, why,” you questioned, “they’re so boring.”

“You’re probably eating them wrong,” he teased. “If you let the wafer sit in your mouth a little bit, you can feel the vanilla cream just kind of melt all over.”

You cleared your throat at his description. It sounded sinful and gave you enough pause to briefly reconsider the wafers as an inferior snack. Lifting your gaze to him, you reaffirmed your resolve, “nope, too vanilla.”

He was interested in you, that much you could sense. A combination of professionalism and apprehension prohibited you from any kind of active pursuit.

A little flirting is harmless, your mind spoke. Right?

He shrugged before finishing the last of the wafers.

“How do you think they’re doing?” He asked, pointing his chin towards the door where your students had exited.

“They’re so smart,” you replied and tapped his forearm with pencil , “but I think they’re easily distracted.”

“By me?” He scoffed, throwing his hands up.

“Yeah, I know, I don’t get it,” you teased, “Must be the way you wear your tie.”

“Ha ha. Very funny,” he said dryly, playfully tossing a white board eraser at you as you opened your laptop. “Are you seriously doing more work right now? It’s Friday.”

“Hey, I’m still considered the new girl in town,” you replied as you set a stack of papers next to you to grade, “I still have to earn my keep.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall, approaching your classroom. In the doorway stood Jenny, a close friend to you and best friend to Ben.

Her arms crossed in front of her, she tutted before speaking, “you’re not seriously working this late on a Friday?!”

“That’s exactly what I told her!”

“You’re coming out with us, right?” Jenny asked. “With me, Ben, and Kate?”

“I’m trying to be good and finish these grades up; I’ve been procrastinating,” was the explanation you offered.

“It’s Friday, we’ve been here all week; do it tomorrow,” Ben suggested, giving Jenny a hug before bouncing out of your classroom. “I’m gonna head home for a minute and I’ll meet you guys there.”

“You got it,” Jenny agreed.

“Make sure this one doesn’t stay here too late,” he commented, directing his eyes to you.

Jenny nodded and you furiously began entering grades in your laptop as he left. Grabbing a student chair, she parked herself in front of your desk. The quick clicks and clacks of your typing echoed over the peaceful silence of your room. Soon she was leaning over your desk with a grin and a raised brow. She knew you well enough to realize that it wouldn’t take too much convincing to close your laptop and join her for some post-work revelries. Instead of continuing to try to convince yourself to be productive, you gave into the invitation, but not before gauging the situation a little further.

“Wait a second, this isn’t a work thing, is it?”

“Oh god, no!” Jenny sneered. “You know they’re not exactly our people.”

Your agreement with Jenny was an understatement. It wasn’t that you disliked working at St. Lawrence. The prestige that came with being a student there was also bound to the excellence of the faculty and staff. The administrators would beam at any good news that followed the people that worked at the school. This also meant being hired at the school was no easy task, especially when parents paid for a certain level of prestige. A sense of entitlement would sometimes extend to their colleagues, sometimes making team building insufferable.

“Kate’s going?” you asked Jenny, speaking of her girlfriend who did not work at the school.

She nodded, helping you pack your things and walking you out of the building and towards her silver Honda Civic.

“Do you need a ride?” Jenny teased, “you know, in case things get a little bit wild.”

“Sure, we can carpool,” you agreed. “And please, things aren’t going to get that wild.”

You took off your too-formal blazer that you had worn for most of the school day and straightened your pencil skirt before you sat in the passenger seat. You looked over with suspicion at Jenny and noticed her making an extra effort to maintain a reserved silence. As she started to drive, she glanced at you, tightening her lips.

“Are you going to give Ben a chance this time?”

You rolled your head and eyes towards her and an exasperated, but involuntary laugh escaped you.

“So, there it is.” You sighed, now fully aware of her intentions. “Why do you always try to set me up with him?”

“Because you are attractive, he is attractive, you’re both intelligent and single,” Jenny stated matter-of-factly. “And I love you both dearly and you two would make the cutest couple.”

You smiled in appreciation of your friend’s efforts. With it only being your second year of teaching at St. Lawrence, navigating friendships was still difficult as many of the teachers had been working there for a decade or more. You latched onto Jenny quickly, first as a department colleague and next as a kindred spirit in personality and interests. She urged you to sponsor the academic team this school year, knowing that her best friend in the math department, Ben, would be co-sponsor. Trusting her judgment, you knew that he was at the very least safe and respectful.

“What are you thinking?” Jenny's eyes twinkled. “You know he thinks you’re pretty hot.”

“Jenny, shut up!”

You shifted in your seat, trying to suppress your increasing intrigue. Aside from his math expertise and help in planning the academic team, “Mr. Ben’s” good-natured reputation among staff preceded him. He had always been friendly and managed to bring entertainment to even the most mundane faculty meeting. And of course, you also were most recently inundated with the way students giggled, blushed, and ogled him as he walked through the halls. As much as you hated to admit it, especially to yourself, he was pretty cute. The TikTok incident at the school assembly was to blame, you convinced yourself.

“I mean,” you paused, an image of him eating vanilla wafers at your desk flashed in your brain, “I guess he‘s cute, he’s just—he just seems so…vanilla.”

“VANILLA?!” Jenny’s voice squeaked incredulously, and it caught you by surprise. “Are you serious?”

“He wears pullover cashmere sweaters!” You cried with laughter.

“We can’t all be perfect!” she laughed with you.

Before you realized it, you had arrived at a restaurant far enough from campus, decreasing the likelihood that you’d run into any teachers or parents from your school. Jenny studied you as you got out of the car. She undid the top two buttons of your dusty pink blouse, revealing a slinky, tan, lace bodysuit you had beneath.

“Ooh, you hussy,” she teased, adding with a wink, “by the way, Ben is probably about as vanilla as you.”

The last few words silenced you. You felt your eyes get wide and felt heat growing on the apples of your cheeks.

Trying to recompose yourself, you followed Jenny inside. Ahead of you, Jenny spotted her girlfriend, Kate, who gave her a bright smile and a sweet peck to her lips.

They then lead you to a u-shaped booth with plush, rich, teal fabric peaking at the edge. And then him. Ben. You stole a glance at Jenny before she pushed you in front of her and into the booth.

“Hey Mr. Ben,”  you greeted.

“Just Ben,” he replied with a boyish grin, “we’re not at work, we don’t need to use the formalities.”

You nodded and slid closer to him, as Jenny followed you into the booth. The proximity provided a different window for you to look at him. His brown wavy hair was perfectly mussed; his shoulders were loose, relaxed, and he had even discarded the confines of his tie and cashmere sweater. Amplifying his breeziness was how he had not one, not two, but three buttons undone on his pale, terracotta colored shirt. They whispered to you to peek at his neck and chest which always remained hidden during the school day. It was as though you were bearing witness to something you weren’t supposed to see. The thought warmed your cheeks.

Maybe Jenny was right. Maybe he wasn’t as vanilla as you presumed.

“You didn’t take my advice from earlier,” he stated plainly, “you stayed at work late!”

“Hey, it wasn’t that late,” you retorted, teasingly pushing into him with your shoulder and hip.

“Jenny texted me that you almost didn’t come out with us,” he murmured, a trace of disappointment soaked in his words as he took another sip of his beer. “I’m really glad you didn’t.”

He pressed into your side so your shoulders touched.

“Hmm,” you mused, wondering what more you could pull from him, “really glad, huh?”

“Well,” his lips appeared poutier in thought, “I had to see if you were more than just an amazing…brain with a good work ethic.”

His tone had you thinking sinfully again, just as when he described the vanilla wafers.

“I guess you’re about to find out,” you replied, the words coming out with ease and your tone like honey trapping a fly with sticky sweetness.

Ben looked at you with surprise, giving you a smirk and a wink. That wink was dangerous.

“What are you drinking?”

“I should ask you that,” you stated, grazing his thumb that rested on his beer mug, “is that a bock, pils, a lager?”

Ben looked at you with a raised brow, impressed. He tipped his beer towards you in acknowledgement and beckoned for a waiter to come to their booth. The response was quick, a young woman rushing to your table.

“My friend right here will have a Yuengling, like me,” he touched the small of your back and then leaned over you to get Jenny’s attention.

A tingle climbed up your spine, like electricity climbing up your back, and down again igniting every nerve ending. You fidgeted in your seat and fixed your gaze at him. You tapped your foot, counted inside your head, and observed to see if the electricity would leave. It didn’t. 

Fuck, you thought. This is new.

Your attention found its way back to you. It was possible that Ben had asked Jenny what she wanted to drink, since you heard her request for an Old Fashioned. A different kind of clarity took over you as you kept your eyes on him, like seeing something in high definition. His nose was prominent and strong. His facial hair grew in endearing patches. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, revealing a dimple on his right cheek.

“What convinced you to finally come out with us?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” you replied thoughtfully, “the promise that there would be no unwanted co-workers here.”

Ben scratched at the patchy facial hair on his chin and turned to you. His chocolatey brown eyes were big, expectant, and you swore you noticed a not-so-innocent twinkle in them.

“How’s that working out for you?”

Before you could answer, the server returned with your drinks. She handed Jenny her Old Fashioned but before you could reach your hand to take your beer, Ben took hold of it and handed it to you. It was an authentic attempt at being charming. A self-study of the consistent butterflies fluttering in your abdomen floating up to your chest, neck and shoulders declared to you that his attempt was working.

“I guess the kids were right, Ben,” you admitted, “you are in your assembly era.”

He guffawed, his voice rich and throaty. He shook his head and ran his right hand through his hair.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

With an up and down nod of your head you confirmed his answer and turned towards Jenny, “and neither are you, mommy.”

Jenny nearly choked on her old fashioned as you reminded her of her role in the fancam debacle.

“First of all, yes, I am mommy,” she affirmed and looked intently at Ben before shifting her eyes to you to wink, “and second of all, those kids don’t need to be messing in our romantic business anyway.”

Suddenly, Ben became bashful. You swore his cheeks turned the same shade of reddish pink as his shirt. Vanilla or not, you decided that Jenny’s testament of him as a good human being was worth further exploration.

For the rest of the evening, you and Ben traded life stories over intermittent drinks. Things you discovered about each other included siblings, your older brother to his  older sister and younger brother. You found he was passionate not just about teaching, but math as well and was too much of a kid to work with adults 24/7. His favorite part of teaching, like yours, was to advocate for students who never had anyone to believe in them. And a shared love of late 90s, early 2000s alternative rock led you two to engage in heavy critique of the cover band playing for the evening.

“What do you think of the band?” he asked at one point during their set.

“If they play Creed, it’s over, I’m peace-ing out,” you replied in a deadpan voice.

He keeled over in laughter, leaning over towards your shoulder.

Fuck, you thought to yourself. He smells so good.

You found yourself staring at his neck and the hint of chest beneath his unbuttoned shirt. It made you feel shallow. You glanced at your watch as a distraction, noting it was nearly midnight. Jenny had been ushered out at Kate’s behest, indicating that the whiskey was making her extra drunk and extra sleepy. You were now without a ride.

“My driver left me,” you sighed to Ben.

“Oh shit,” Ben remarked, “I would offer to take you home, but I might have to Uber it---I’m not sure I can drive.”

An inspired proposition entered your mind. A conflict waged in your mind, contemplating all the ways this evening could end and the one way you wanted it to, “Um…well, we could share an Uber.”

“Well, sure,” he replied earnestly, “if you don’t mind.”

He followed you as you beckoned him outside with a single look. As you stood before each other, you noted the broadness of his shoulders as he reached his hands over his head to stretch, rolling his shoulders up and then down the length of his back. You caught a glimpse of the elastic of his boxer briefs and his belly. The physicality of his movements was enticing and kept the tingling flame you felt earlier in your stomach alight, willing it to travel lower between your legs.

I’m fucked. You thought to yourself.

Ben opened the car door for you. You slid in and he followed, his knee brushing against your leg where your pencil skirt had slid up a few inches. Ben slid in, reaching over, grazing the exposed skin of your thigh with his hand. He looked up at you holding your gaze captive for what seemed like minutes.

“Sorry,” his voice came out in a gravelly hush.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you countered, biting your lip involuntarily.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you spoke softly, keeping your eyes on him.

A grin grew on Ben’s face. “Same.”

Emboldened with desire, your hand caressed the mapwork of veins on his forearm, gently tracing the curve of his knuckles, and the lines on his fingers until he opened his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You watched, transfixed, as his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. He turned to face you, your noses just a few inches apart. You tilted your head and perused the shape of his pouty lips, soft, and inviting. Nuzzling your nose to his, your lips nearly touched his sweet pout.

“I’m going to ask you in,” the confession melted off your tongue.

He took another deep breath, and you swear that once again, for the third time that evening, his cheeks were quickly painted red. The car began to slow as you noticed it approaching your neighborhood, until it stopped in front of your modest, but adorable mid-century home. You slid out of the car, leaving your door open for him to follow. When he did, your exhalation threatened to consume you. A hot-blooded thumping coursing through your body. He closed the car door gently behind him, thanking the driver with a wave before he turned to follow up on the walkway to your door.

Fumbling for your keys, you felt him close in behind you, feeling the heat escaping  from your body and his. A tiny gasp escaped as you felt his hand behind you, touching you first at the small of your back and then circling around to land at your hip. He stepped forward and pulled your body close. Instantly, you felt a tenting build in his pants, pressing himself against you while you unlocked the door. Reverberating tingles vibrating over every inch of your skin. His other hand caressed up your triceps, to your shoulders, gently brushing the hair away from your neck leaving goose bumps behind in their wake. Replacing his hand, his nose caressed your neck, breathing you until you felt his lips taste you with gentle kisses.

“Fuck me,” he panted, warms breaths leaving him as your touch pulsated through every cell in his body.

“That’s the plan,” you smirked and growled at him

You rushed into the house, shoving the door closed behind you. Your lips caressed his Adam’s apple, breathing him in as you licked, kissed, and nibbled on his neck and ear. A growl rattled from him to your ears, his heat rising from his body with each touch. You pressed your lips hungry meeting his soft pout. Instinctively your hands weaved through the soft waves of his hair, until you tugged at it. Not too hard, not too soft but just enough for him to open his mouth with a gasp, allowing you to savor the taste of his bottom lip with your tongue until you met his tongue with fervor.

You pulled from him to take a breath of frenzied desire as you simultaneously attacked each other’s buttons. You marveled at his broad chest and shoulders as you pulled back his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. A wanton dizziness took over you as his large hands pulled you effortlessly towards him. His bulge throbbed against you as you pressed your pelvis into his, gasping and heady with desire. Electric desire moved through you, your skin on fire as a primal lust darkened his eyes while he studied your tits and how your nipples stood at attention, beneath the tan, lacy fabric of your bodysuit.

“Fuck, baby,” the way he growled at you was decidedly not vanilla, “you’re so fucking pretty.”

Lips hot and swollen you grabbed him by the belt loops of his slacks, pulling him towards your bedroom. A giddy gasp escaped you when the jingle of his loose belt buckle reached your ears, sliding it free from its confines tossing and onto your bed.

Ben caressed your shoulders and began to play with the thin straps of your body suit pulling them slowly down your arms, down the fabric covering your breasts, ruching the fabric as he slid it down to your waist. A moan escaped lips as he pulled you with one hand at your waist and the other found a home at your neck with the perfect amount of pressure. A yelp left you as he pushed back against you until you felt the edge of the bed behind your knees, where you fell together.

His mouth found your right nipple licking the numb in tight circles before taking a small bite. The fire on your skin grew hotter from the wet heat of his tongue and it left you panting for more. His deep laugh rumbled from his chest to yours. In his dark eyes he reveled at how he was slowly making you come undone. That pout of his traveled the valley of your chest and gave your other nipple the same attention.

You felt his hardening cock against your thigh and your core began to pound and cry for him. Reaching your hand to his boxer briefs you pull at his cock, eliciting a low moan as your hands slid off the barrier keeping you from his thick hard member. You looked down and your eyes widened at his size. An astonished gulp left your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock. Your grip barely closed around its girth as you stroked up and down his entire length. A tear of precum escaped the tip. You look up at him deviously and bring your tongue down to taste the saltiness of him. You then wrap your lips around him, taking as much of him in as you possibly can, causing your cheeks to hollow. The taste of him was a perfect combination of sweet and musky and sometimes salty as a hint of more precum coated your tongue.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he moaned through gritted teeth. “Stop, wait.”

You released him with an audible pop, pouting a little bit.

“I just want to make you feel good.”

“Fuck, are you real?” He sighed, brushing his hands through wavy locks.

You nodded and then gasped as he grabbed you and tossed you on the bed like a rag doll. An excited moan leapt from you through heaving breaths as you savored the feeling of his naked body as he crawled over you. A different expression took over his gentle face as he caressed you and kissed your inner biceps as he raised both of your hands above your head. His hot breath branded you as he began to whisper into your ear.

“Can I cuff you with my belt,” he growled.

A whimper escaped you. You were no stranger to being cuffed, but the offer from Ben was…unexpected. The wetness at your core grew when he asked and all you could do was nod.

“Good thing you picked the correct answer,” he sighed, satisfying his hunger with a taste of your lips.

“I like this,” you keened, “this side of you.”

“Good, because you’re going to do exactly as I say,” the demand made you breathless. “You’re going to move when I say you move. You’re going to cum when I let you cum and I’m going to fuck you, when I’m ready.”

“Ben--,” you called out his name like a mantra.

He grabbed his belt from where you had tossed it on the bed. His hands moved with the quick competence of a man who had definitely done this before. The deftness in the way looped the leather as he cuffed your wrists with the perfect amount of pressure left you panting.

“You sure this is OK?” he asked, his fingers gingerly stroking your face and lips.

You opened your mouth taking one digit, swirling your tongue around it, and sucking the tip.

You nod and replied, “Consent is so fucking sexy.”

He smiled and kissed your lips, neck, and breasts. He pulled your pencil skirt from your body, but tortuously left you in your bodysuit, damp with heat of your desire. Your breaths were heavy with anticipation as he traveled to your ankle, up your calf, to your knee, to your inner thigh, until he floated closer to your center. His nose breathed in the scent of your wet core and his broad shoulders pushed your legs apart, licking at the fabric that separated her from his tongue.

“God, you’re so wet for me already,” he moaned, kissing, and licking the fabric again causing shivers to erupt all over your body.

“Ben!” You cried and you writhed beneath him. “Please.”

Your wrists strained against the thick leather of his belt, desperate to touch and grip his body with your hands. our back when you heard him chuckle as he pulled the thin fabric of the bottom of your bodysuit to the side. He flattened his tongue, pressing it through your folds and up to your clit. Like a man starved, he devoured you licking up and down, up, and down and then circling and sucking at your clit. Then he took sanctuary there, making it his place of worship, circling you, sucking you and then licking you again, between maddeningly slow and unbearably fast. A jolt twisted through your body when he slowed down to a stop.

“Oh fuck, Ben, please,” you begged, “I need to cum, please, let me cum.”

“You sure?” his voice full of wanton lust.

You bucked your hips towards him, and you felt his soft pouty lips smirk into your core. His large hands ripped the thin, cheap fabric of your bodysuit, tossing it to the floor. A lascivious chuckle rumbled from his chest as his hands seized your hips before putting his mouth back to work on you. You were devoured, as if you were the last and best meal he would ever have. You trembled slowly at first, your core beginning to quiver and quake. The quaking moved outwards from your core, ready to erupt within your body, as he teased, licked, and sucked, slowing down, or speeding up until you cried out his name begging for mercy.

“Oh god, Ben; you’re so good,” you wailed, the leather becoming tauter around your wrists. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes while your breaths became more and more ragged.

“Yes, sweetheart, cum for me, cum for me then I’ll fuck you.”

An order, not a request.

A tightness began resonating outward from your core, as Ben latched his mouth to your clit and suddenly you felt him push not one, but two fingers deep inside you, finger fucking you relentlessly until you could do nothing but cry out and scream his name. Your own personal mantra. A merciless spark took over your body until every inch of you trembled, as a wetness spread onto your sheets beneath you.

“Wow, baby, you are amazing,” he sighed, granting you a moment to regain your composure.

It felt as though you had run a marathon, you were breathing so hard.

“Was that?” You asked in shock through breaths, “did I?”

“Yes, and it was amazing,” he confirmed, releasing your hands from his thick leather belt. “Don’t tell me you’ve never squirted before.”

You shook your head vigorously, the freedom of your hands allowing you to pull his face towards you in a passionate kiss. He growled over you, capturing you by the waist, allowing your bodies to savor the heat and sweat from one another.

“You taste so good,” he praised. “Sorry about your bodysuit, I guess I’ll have to buy you a new one.” 

It didn’t matter. Clothes just seemed like an annoying inconvenience. You needed to be naked with him. You felt how rock hard his member was, upright and ready for you.

“Ben, please, I need you inside me.”

“Condom?”

You held his gaze before speaking, “I’m clean and protected, you?”

The excitement rose within you again at his confirmation. He leaned over you, his eyes almost black with lust. He pushed your legs apart with his muscular thighs before kneeling upright, his large, capable hands dragging your hips towards him. He wrapped your legs around his hips as he grabbed the base of his throbbing cock, slapping it to your clit, nearly making you scream. Your heart pounded into your ears as he lined up his tip to your glistening entrance. He pushed through your slickness, inch by inch, agonizingly slow, rewarding you with his pulsating girth . You threw your head back, nearly sobbing as he stretched you. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders as he rolled his hips into yours, moving his length in and out.

“You’re so big, you feel so good,” you praised as you felt him increase his pace.

“I’m never leaving this pretty little cunt,” he groaned as he rolled and thrust into you.

“Faster, baby, fuck me harder, faster,” you implored.

His thick fingers pressed into your hips, and he began to drive into you exactly as you asked, pounding into your tight, wet cunt. Your name left his lips in repeated growls through gritted teeth. It was like he fucking owned you. A gravelly hiss leaves his throat as your walls rippled and squeezed his thick cock. He thrusted deep into you, hitting your g-spot and you gifted him with a loud moan of his name, your voice unable to form any other words.

His left hand pressed down hard at the base of your neck, and you felt his thrusts begin to roll into you at a slower pace. With his right hand, he lifted your knee towards your chest, hooking it over his shoulder. A pleading whimper escaped your lips when it felt like he was almost completely out of you. But as quickly as the thought drifted in, he pounded into you even harder than before. The pleasure was amplified one-hundred times with the newfound angle. The way his cock pounded your g-spot was somehow better this way and just as you thought it couldn’t get more perfect, Ben took his hand from your neck and began circling your clit with his thumb.

You let out a long, loud moan, crying out his name in a never-ending chant. “Ben! I can’t, my pussy can’t, I’m gonna cum!”

“Fuck, me too, baby,” he moaned with each thrust. “Wh—where, can I?”

“Cum inside me!” you demanded.

His cock throbbed and reverberated in you, until you found it impossible to contain everything you felt. Your orgasm washed all over you, your core quivering and every part of your body shaking as he thrust in with every bit of strength he had. Not once, not twice, but three more times, he chased your high with his own until you felt him fill you with ropes of his sweet, hot cum. Your voice cried out with him as he hissed and moaned through his own orgasm. His cock stayed sheathed within you, savoring how your core pulsated around him. He released his hands from your hips and slowly he pulled out of you. You let out a luxurious gasp, feeling a twinge of sadness from not feeling him inside you anymore.

A breath of satisfied exhaustion left him as he rolled next to you, but he also deftly found a way to wrap you in his arms, pulling you close into him. You came down from your high together and you listened intently to his heartbeat as you caressed his chest gently with your fingers. He brought his left hand to yours and began to mirror your gentle touches, bringing your palm to his lips kissing the inside of it. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pulled you even closer, your legs tangled together, your bodies still glowing. You closed your eyes, breathing him in as you felt the velvety soft touch of his fingers caressing your hair and your shoulders. He pressed his soft lips to your forehead, a kiss so gentle it stood in direct contrast to how relentlessly he had fucked you. And it all felt right.

You looked up at him and he held his gaze to yours. A serene smile grew on your face, your cheeks flushing with a rosy warmth. 

“Wow,” was the only thing that could leave your lips as you caught your breath.

The balmy air of sex hovered over you. A feeling of surprise and giddiness mixed in with the afterglow as you thought of the pale pink impressions the leather of his belt left on your wrists. Just thinking of the way he controlled your body with his tongue, hands, and cock was almost enough to make your arousal reawaken.

“Mmmm, that was not…vanilla,” you exhaled, chuckling at the thought of him eating those snack wafers, “you are an enigma, sweet Ben.”

“Thank you, I think?” He laughed.

Your hand traced up his Adam’s apple, snuggling against him and caressing your fingers along his endearingly patchy facial hair. You propped yourself up and brought your face close to his, nuzzling your nose against his, inviting him in for a sensual kiss.

“I promise you, it’s a good thing,” a giggle escaped your lips. “Even just laying here with you is…it’s something.”

“Something you want to try again?” he asked, his breath hitching as he waited for your answer.

“Fuck yeah,” you replied without hesitation. “But…”

“Uh oh, there’s a…butt!” He laughed, as he smacked your behind, tingling your core again with desire.

“Ben,” you laughed with him, gently caressing the soft skin of his pelvis, “what I was going to say is, ‘yes, there is a 100 percent chance of this happening again,’ as long as you take me out on a real date.”

He nodded in agreement, giving you the most attractive and radiant smile.

“How does breakfast sound?”

“Mmmm,” you whispered, pulling your soft bed sheets over the two of you, “I would love that.”

Thank you to my darling friends @legendary-pink-dot & @blueheat1-blog for beta-ing this for me! &lt;3

[itsliyahhbih]

Into the spider-verse: Xiomara’s intro

Sum: this is my intro to my au fanfic. Puerto Rico’s Araña-Mujer & it takes place on Earth 906. This starts in Xi’s POV‼️

A/n: The other characters come in later. The story really starts after her intro so this of this rlly as an intro/pt.1 ‼️ In this story Xiomara does end up with Miles G. Morales. HOWEVER, this is being posted as a test to see ‘how good’..this fic is. This is basically a ‘rough draft’ I’ve honestly barely edited this. I have read thru it so hopefully I didn’t miss any BIG errors. I just wanna see if others enjoy this or if maybe I get thrown suggestions. If this does good I’ll possibly continue with this fanfic on here :))

Okay let’s get this started , Hi I’m Xiomara Marina Aguillar . Puerto Rico’s one and only Spider girl. I got bitten by a radio active spider on a school field trip to Oscorp Labs for a career day. My spider bite gave me special venom powers through nails that can temporarily paralyze my victim. As well as camouflage effect that allows me to blend into any surroundings, also my body temperature drops leaving me undetectable to heat vision. I’m 15 years old and attend Visions, the center of advanced studies..It’s..It’s really just a highschool, but I like to remind myself of what my papa said to me. “Mija, you earned your place at that school! I’ll be damned to see stuck up children run you away from a proper education!!” Something my father didn’t have growing up. I tested very highly my whole life and always got good grades, school and education came so naturally to me..friends..not so much.

It was my papa’s dream for me to go to this school , so who was my mother to deny a man on his deathbed his dream for his eldest daughter right?…he..hehe. Yeahhh uh…My pa, he’s gone…He passed away when I was 13 from Cancer, but I don't like to remember him as a Cancer patient! I like to remember him for just being my papa. The one cracking jokes, cooking good food and saving lives as a firefighter…

I always wished he never got sick because then I just know..My life wouldn’t be the way it is now..

Months after my papa’s death my mother went downhill even almost lost her nursing license. She picked up drinking and smoking cigarettes heavily, also picking up extreme hours at the hospital to try to keep us afloat. She liked to claim all the hours were for keeping us afloat..a part of me believed that. That she was still the mami who used to give pep talks and smother you in kisses every morning, but really I knew it was also to feed her addiction..Apart of my mom still wanted to be a mother but sometimes couldn't bare to look at us and so I tried really hard to shelter my siblings from this part of her, but as they got older they became coherent to their surroundings . It was hard for us emotionally and financially, we were even still paying off his medical bills and that alone was a struggle to do.. Don’t get me wrong, my parents both made good money. I wouldn’t say we are DIRT poor as of right now, just struggling.. Those bills were just always a harsh reminder to us that he was gone..

We even lived in a beautiful house when he was alive but the hospital bills, caring for us, our wants and needs no matter what, bills..It swallowed them as his hours at work decreased more and more due to his cancer getting worse. Eventually putting him on disability we slowly got back afloat, but when he passed and we no longer got his disability income we lost our home and my mom lost her sanity. My parents worked so hard their whole lives to get us outta the hood for us to end up right back there . As I stated my mami kinda went..loco, She wasn’t herself any more, gave us no attention and became very cold and mean as the alcohol addiction increased so I picked up the care of my younger siblings and our apartment we moved into after the loss of the house. It was just my moms job to give me her paycheck to get it ALL done..Eventually we would argue about the money and costs of her habits so I had to pick up a job to pick up her slack..But that's enough of my life story let’s just get into it…

To be continued..?

[alex-guerin]

Further proof that corporate America doesn't give 2 shits (not even a single shit, lbr) about their employees.

I work for a multi-billion dollar hardware company in their warehouse. I've been there a year. My year anniversary I got a whopping 25cent raise.

They have what is called "PIP" which stands for Performance Incentive Payment, means the better and faster you work, the more money you make, but it has to be a 100% or higher in order to get that money. And actually, in order to see any major difference on your check, it needs to be an average of 120% for the week.

This is easy for some groups in the warehouse to hit, in others it's damn near impossible.

The kid who does breakdown with me and I generally run right around/slightly over 100% every week. We've gotten very good at working together and getting shit done cuz we both really need the money so we've been determined to earn as much incentive as we can.

Sunday, he and I ran a 240% for the day. Monday, 120%. Tuesday, 120%. Wednesday they conveniently forgot to tell me until I came in ready to breakdown that I would be on a forklift all day cuz one of our regular drivers scheduled the day off, so coworker baaaarely made 100% for the day and I doubt I hit 100% on my forklift cuz I was pissed off and there was nothing for me to do. It was pointless for me to be on a forklift. Today, I came in, coworker and I were excited to end out the week together, totally ready to kick ass and make a hella awesome paycheck for this week. We get told we aren't going to be working together today. That he would be working with the kid they put him with yesterday while I was on forklift and that I would be getting someone else to work with.

They've never had two breakdown teams on a Thursday. Except for a little while when it'd be one team of two and the 3rd person worked on her own for the day. But that girl quit and since then, we've done just fine with it being just me and him on Thursdays.

I talked to a few people and told them what was going on, people who had been there for a while, and those people all looked at me and said, "Know why they're separating you two? Cuz you were doing too good, they had to figure out someway to keep you two from making any decent rate for the rest of the week so they won't have to pay you as much incentive. They do it to everyone who runs well over 100% everyday. There's at least one day a week were your numbers will tank for no reason, and it's enough to knock your weekly average down so they don't have to pay you as much."

And then, to add insult to injury, our warehouse big dog called a meeting at the start of shift to congratulate us all on another awesome year, it was another record breaking year for the company and it was all thanks to us. So as a thank you, the company was going to give us all a one time $200 bonus! ...but it's taxed so it's probably only gonna be about $100 by the time we get it, but HEY! Merry Christmas guys!

Other warehouses in the area are giving their crews $500+ bonuses, we're getting the pocket change they saved by cheating their employees out of their hard earned incentive pay. While the big dogs and corporate workers are probably getting bonuses that are bigger than what most of us make in a week (the Big big dog probably a bonus that is bigger than most of us make in a YEAR).

So, someone please tell me why a multi-billion dollar company has employees that are still living in poverty and those people are the ones doing the back breaking jobs, pushing themselves physically to their limits and beyond just for a few extra bucks a paycheck so they don't have to wonder if they're buying groceries this week or putting gas in their car? How? We had a record breaking year, but most of us can't pay our bills. If we had such a great year, give us a raise.

[alertfacts]

Wendy Williams' Net Worth: How the TV Queen Built Her Fortune

When it comes to daytime TV royalty, Wendy Williams is a name that resonates with millions. From her sassy catch phrases to her unabashed commentary on pop culture, Wendy has made a name for herself as a force to be reckoned with in the entertainment industry. But beyond her larger-than-life persona and candid on-air conversations, there's something that has caught the attention of many—Wendy Williams net worth. How did she amass her wealth? What’s the real story behind the fortune she built? Buckle up, because we're about to dive deep into the empire of the "Queen of All Media."

The Early Years: Humble Beginnings and Ambitions

Before Wendy Williams net worth became a hot topic, she was just a girl with big dreams. Born in Asbury Park, New Jersey, Wendy didn’t come from wealth. Her early life was relatively modest, growing up in a middle-class family. Wendy knew she wanted to be in the spotlight from a young age. After earning a communications degree from Northeastern University, she set her sights on radio—a decision that would kick start her career and eventually lead to her becoming a household name.

Wendy's first gigs in radio were far from glamorous. She worked as a disc jockey at small stations, making just enough to get by. But her fiery personality and ability to connect with listeners quickly set her apart from the rest. Wendy was on a mission, and nothing was going to stand in her way.

Climbing the Radio Ranks

Wendy’s big break in radio came when she joined New York's WRKS (now WEPN-FM), where her larger-than-life personality found a fitting stage. Here, Wendy began to build her brand, establishing herself as a bold, no-nonsense voice in radio. The more she talked, the more listeners tuned in—and the more controversial she became.

Her candid interviews and on-air feuds with celebrities garnered attention, both positive and negative. But for Wendy, any publicity was good publicity. With every headline, her influence grew, and so did her paycheck. By the time she transitioned to WBLS, Wendy Williams' net worth was already on the rise, thanks to her growing popularity and increased salary. She had made a name for herself, but this was just the beginning.

The Wendy Williams Show: A Game Changer

While radio had been Wendy's playground, it was her leap to television that truly catapulted her to stardom. In 2008, “The Wendy Williams Show” debuted, and it was an instant hit. Wendy brought the same energy, drama, and honesty from her radio days to daytime TV, and audiences couldn’t get enough.

The show's success wasn't just about ratings, though those were impressive. It was about syndication, merchandising, and branding. Wendy Williams' net worth started to skyrocket as the show expanded its reach, airing in more markets and attracting a broader audience. Not to mention, Wendy’s knack for securing lucrative endorsement deals and partnerships only added to her growing fortune.

Here’s how "The Wendy Williams Show" became a cash cow:

Syndication Deals: The show's syndication meant it was aired across the country and even internationally, bringing in substantial revenue.

Merchandising: Wendy's catchphrases and personality were perfect for branded merchandise—everything from mugs to clothing lines, all of which contributed to her income.

Brand Collaborations: Wendy partnered with various brands, promoting products on her show and social media platforms, further padding her bank account.

Wendy Williams' Net Worth: The Breakdown

So, what exactly is Wendy Williams' net worth? While estimates vary, most sources agree that it hovers around $40 million. But how did she get there? Let’s break it down:

Television: "The Wendy Williams Show" is the biggest contributor to her wealth, with an estimated annual salary of $10 million.

Radio: Her earlier radio career may not have made her millions, but it certainly set the foundation for her fortune.

Books: Wendy has penned multiple books, many of which became bestsellers, contributing to her income.

Endorsements and Partnerships: These deals, often lucrative, have been a steady stream of income for Wendy over the years.

Real Estate: Wendy has invested in real estate, owning multiple properties that have appreciated in value.

Challenges and Comebacks

It hasn’t all been smooth sailing for Wendy Williams, though. Like any public figure, she's faced her share of challenges, both personally and professionally. From health issues to highly publicized marital troubles, Wendy’s journey has been anything but easy. These struggles inevitably impacted Wendy Williams' net worth, particularly during times when she had to take a step back from her show. Yet, despite these hurdles, Wendy’s resilience is undeniable. Each time, she’s come back stronger, proving that she’s a force to be reckoned with.

The Influence of Wendy Williams

Wendy Williams’ influence extends beyond her net worth. She has inspired countless others to be unapologetically themselves. Wendy's journey from a radio jockey to a TV icon shows that hard work, persistence, and a little controversy can go a long way. She’s a reminder that even in the face of adversity, it’s possible to rise, thrive, and laugh your way to the bank.

What’s Next for Wendy?

As Wendy steps back from her show, many wonder what the next chapter holds for her. Will she launch another business? Return to radio? Or perhaps delve deeper into her personal passions? Whatever she chooses, one thing’s for sure: Wendy Williams' net worth will continue to be a topic of conversation for years to come.

Conclusion

Wendy Williams has crafted a career that's as colorful as it is successful. From her early days in radio to her reign as the queen of daytime TV, Wendy’s story is one of determination, grit, and an unyielding belief in herself. Wendy Williams' net worth is not just a number; it’s a testament to her impact on the entertainment industry and beyond. So, the next time you tune into a rerun of "The Wendy Williams Show" or see her name in the headlines, remember—the woman behind the wealth has earned every penny, and then some.

[choonxie]

on splurging and little hungers

Today’s afternoon tea is weak Indian Chai, a forgotten cup from the morning brew that I was only reminded of when I lifted the insulated mug to my lips. Blegh.

I really should replace this antique thing with one of those expensive flasks I’ve been seeing at the boutique store since forever ago— I’ve already begun to earn my own keep after all, as pitiful the paycheck is compared to those of my peers.

I shake my head. My parents will stop working in a few years. Every peso in my bank account matters. No time to think of frivolities that don’t matter.

Said the same thing for the books at the recent fair, and the cute dress at the market stall. The me before would have bought both in a heartbeat.

With age comes responsibility, and responsibility changes you— both in ways you do and do not want. That’s life.

One thing I never scrimped on, however, was food and drink— a carry-over from lessons during recess time in grade school.

I used to not have an allowance back then. I’d get a sandwich instead, while everyone else bought from the school canteen. It was enough, until it wasn’t.

I was a growing girl of eleven or twelve years, just at the cusp of beginning puberty, although the growth spurt didn’t happen yet. (That would come at thirteen or fourteen.) I still got a sandwich every day for recess— a single slice of bread with cheese spread, folded in half.

That slice of bread was enough to fill my small belly every day for the past seven or eight years, but soon I discovered that growing girls needed more than that.

I didn’t want to spend my angpao, though. I only get those once or twice a year. I was supposed to save that for big things, my parents said. And they’re right, of course— which parents were ever wrong?

So I stayed at the end of the line, waiting until the rest of the students had finished. And I would mill before the counter, debating whether I should buy food, too, or not.

It was there that my friend found me, a couple of minutes before the bell rang. “Aren’t you going to buy? We go back to class at 10:15.”

I still couldn’t decide, looking at the sealed red envelope in my wallet, then at her. Bell rings in two minutes, though. “Nah, I won’t. Let’s go.”

She looked at me in disbelief. “Girl. Buying food is never a waste of money. You’re gonna eat it, right?”

I nodded slowly, also in disbelief. Of course I would. Food must not be wasted.

“Good,” she smiled. “I’ll be waiting here.”

My outlook had been changed since then.

As I grew older, I eventually got pocket money of my own— to save, to spend, to do whatever I wanted with. I discovered the other joys and frivolities of life, and spent on those, too. Those made me happy, so why scrimp on them?

Nothing ever topped buying food and drink, though.

Every time I was happy or sad or mad, I would treat myself— to two or more meals in one sitting, to milk tea or dessert. Those dates with myself were the best, really, because I had the quality time I needed while filling my belly.

My wallet and BMI had suffered for it, but eh.

The habit stuck even until med school and beyond, when I ate to celebrate and to cope, and drank (not alcohol) to drown my sorrows and joys. Looking back, that may have been me torturing myself in a way, convincing myself that this was the way to do it.

Temporary, physical joys.

Eating never took the problems away, but they helped me deal with them a little better. Allotting a large part of my budget on food and drink is always worth it.

It was easy to do it when I wasn’t home, where no one from the house would judge me for having no control over my huge appetite and even larger spending. (Avarice, they whispered, impulsive and untempered.) So I would always go home later than my clock-off time, stopping for a bite to eat where no eyes would see and no ears would hear.

Couldn’t do that anymore since the pandemic started.

On days I’m not in the hospital, I’m at home instead, where I’m being watched like a hawk and my spending, likewise, being monitored. “We’ll run out of money if we’re not careful,” Mom once said. And she is right— she is always right.

Soon, they’ll both stop working, and I’ll have to shoulder the financing of this household. (On what, my paltry stipend?) I felt a twinge of regret, counting all the things I didn’t need to buy or eat but did anyway, all because I was too happy or too sad or whatever.

That helped me control myself, at least.

Good things came out of it, in a way. I track everything in a notebook now. I ask myself whether I really need something or not, before I make a purchase (or not). When I buy something, it’s after much careful consideration that I do, and I am happy with it.

I got thinner, too.

I guess that puts my life somewhat back on track, too, all things considered— not that it had been drastically derailed to begin with. (Still have a job. Still have a family and three meals a day and a roof over my head. Stuff to be grateful for, despite everything.)

I sip more of my afternoon tea, weak and cold because it was not properly insulated by an antique mug I’ve owned since forever. It fills my belly, still, and I smile— I’m content with all this, for now.

[moxiepoints]

Hui’s Backup Dancers Making Everyone Shook on Breakers

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban. 

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door. 

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it. 

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes. 

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said. 

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said. 

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they’re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said. 

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head. 

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said. 

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances. 

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned. 

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled. 

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile. 

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen. 

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake. 

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked. 

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[sunmoonandeddie]

sunrise

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2,798

summary: He’s not sure what he’s done to earn each morning, but fuck, does he love it.

warnings: There’s a fight between the two but it is in fact angst to sweet good fluffiness <333 also cussing lol

a/n:  Thank you so much to @captswilson​ for commissioning this!!!  I had so much fun with it!!!!!!!

There is something majestic about the sun rising.  It peeks through the curtains in Bucky’s room, little bit by little bit.  It illuminates the desk and then creeps across the floor, towards the edge of the bed.

He’d done his best to organize the room in a way that would ensure you wouldn’t wake up to the sun in your eyes.  His precious girl loved sleep and he was going to make sure you got as much of it as you wanted.

The light has only reached the foot of the bed, and he knows he probably has another thirty minutes to an hour before you wake up.  Maybe two if he can find the will to leave your embrace and fix the black out curtains that are supposed to prevent this sort of thing.

But you’re so warm and soft against him and he’d just gotten home from a mission the night before and there’s a million other reasons keeping him in bed and all of them start and end with you.  He’s also scared to get out of bed for the fear of you waking up while he’s not cuddling you.

There’d been a fight the morning of the mission.  One that had resulted in crying and you suggesting that you be gone by the time he got back.

And he hadn’t said a word.  He’d just left.

“Jamie?” You mumbled as you felt him get out of the bed, despite how hard he’d tried to not wake you.

The super soldier winced as he turned around to face you, to look at your sweet, sleepy face.  “Hey, baby…,” he said soothingly as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?” You asked, even as your eyes saw his phone in his hand and the message he’d received.  “You’re leaving?”

He hated the way that your voice cracked and the little quiver in your lip.  “It’s just a quick in and out mission, sweetheart,” he said reassuringly.  “I’ll be back in three days tops.”

You were wide awake then, pushing yourself up.

He’s distracted for a moment by the sight of you in one of his t-shirts.  Especially considering that he knows there’s nothing on underneath.

But it wasn’t the time for that.

“Three days?”  Your voice is sharp and bordering on angry now.  Frustration lined the contours of your face as you stared at him, hard.  “But what about our trip?  We’ve been planning this for months and I finally got the time off of work!”

And fuck, he knew that.  He knew that this weekend was special.  It was your anniversary, and you two had finally planned a trip away for yourselves on one of Tony’s private islands in the Caribbean.

But with the mission call, those plans had disappeared, as well as the plans for the ring box buried in his side of the closet, in a pair of unworn boots hidden amongst all the other pairs of black combat boots.

Bucky wanted to tell you to just quit your job and work for Tony or even just let him take care of you.  You’d never have to work again.

“Baby, I have to go,” he said softly as he tried to reach out to cup your cheek.  A crack ran through his heart as you jerked away from his touch.  “You know I do…  They call and—”

“Yeah,” you said, cutting him off as you stared at him long and hard.  “You go.  You always go.  It’s fine.”  But by the tone of your voice, he knows it’s not fine.

He could always read you.  Bucky was able to tell how you were feeling just by how you breathed, the way your hands moved.  But for the first time ever, he can’t.  He has absolutely no clue what you were feeling.

And that scared that absolute shit out of him.

He whispered your name as he tried to reach for you again, but you got off the other side of the bed and stood up, moving towards the closet.  “What are you doing?” He asked.

“You’re the one always leaving.  Maybe I should, too,” you muttered as you began to pull your clothes from the hangers.

“What?!”  He was full blown panicking then.  You couldn’t leave.  “Baby, baby, no.  Don’t leave.  Please.”  He rushed towards the bed, grabbing the clothes you’d already tossed there and began to hang them back up.  “Can’t we talk about this?”

“Talk about what?  Talk about how I’m never going to be your priority?  How you’re going to keep telling me that you’re gonna retire soon, only for it to never happen?”

Bucky knew he didn’t have a right to get angry at that, even though it was true.  He had been telling you for over a year that he’d retire soon and then you two could really settle down.  Maybe get a dog or have a baby.

And every time you asked, he’d just say it wasn’t the right time.

But he did get angry.  He was human, after all.

“Real fucking mature,” he said with a scoff, shaking his head.  “You know, if it wasn’t for my paycheck, and therefore these missions, you wouldn’t even be living in this fancy apartment.  You wouldn’t have a suite you live in for free in the fucking Avengers Tower in the center of Manhattan,” he snapped.  He was going too far, but he was so frustrated and angry.  Because he did want to stay.  He did.  But he had debts to society that he needed to repay.  “Hell, your little office job wouldn’t even pay for an apartment in Jersey City!  I give you everything, and you can’t even handle me going away for a few days so we can have everything that we do!”

You took a step back, your eye glassy.  “So that’s how you feel,” you breathed out.

Bucky had gone way too far.  He’d said things he’d never even thought before, but it had come out because he was hurting and there came that mean streak inside of him that insisted that he hurt you back.

He shook his head, a few rogue tears falling down his cheeks.  “No…  No, that’s not how I feel,” he said quietly.  “Please…  Can we please just talk about this?  I—”  He was cut off as his phone dinged again, and he cursed under his breath as he realized it was Sam texting him that they needed to leave in ten minutes.

A snort.

His eyes met yours right before you looked away, crossing your arms as you moved to the window and stared out at the waking city.  “We’ll talk about this when I get back,” he said definitively.

But as he headed for the door, he heard you say, “Sure we will.”

He was in a state of constant anxiety the entire mission, wanting nothing more than to call you and explain but now knowing exactly what to say.

What could he say?  He was cruel and mean and horrible, and god, he really wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t there when he got back.

The mission ended up taking seventy-nine hours, and he had worked himself into a tizzy the entire jet ride home.

He stormed down the ramp and into the car that would take them to the city, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for Sam and Wanda to climb in.  “If you don’t hurry up, I’m leaving without you!”

“We get it, you’re excited to go home to your girl,” Sam chuckled as he got in, Wanda quickly following.

She was quiet, and he knew it was most likely because his thoughts were too loud to keep to himself.  There was no way she didn’t know about the fight you two had.

“Did something happen between you two?” Sam asked, glancing over at him as they started towards the city.  “Usually you two are on the phone every chance you get during a mission.”

Bucky’s forehead rested against the cold glass window as he stared at the passing scenery.  “Yeah…  Something like that…”

When they got home, he went straight to your shared apartment, hoping to every god there was that you were still there.  Maybe you’d be at work and you could get that vacation time back and use it next weekend or something.

He just needed his baby.

Bucky’s hand rested on the door handle, his key card in his hand.  He was terrified to go in, and he took a few steadying breaths, just like his therapist had taught him.

What was he gonna do if you were gone?

He finally opened the door, his eyes going wide as he saw you putting away some laundry.  “You stayed,” he breathed out.

“No.  I didn’t,” you said quietly, your voice cracking.  “I left.  I packed all my stuff up and I left and went to a hotel.  But then I…  I couldn’t just leave.”  Tears welled up in your eyes.

“I don’t care,” he said.  “You came back.  That’s what matters.  And I’m here now and I…”  Like the broken man he was, he fell to his knees in front of you and clung to your shirt.  “Baby…  I need you.  I’ll do anything, please…  Just don’t leave me…”

He was surprised when you fell to your knees with him, breaking down as you threw your arms around him.  “I’m sorry I said that stuff.  I love you.  I love you.  I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

Kisses were pressed all over your wet cheeks as he shook his head.  “No, I’m sorry,” he murmured.  “I was cruel and I was lashing out because I was so scared, but I should’ve just talked to you.”

“So you didn’t mean all that stuff?” You whimpered, almost shocked.  “About me using you for your money or whatever?”

“No.  No.  I could never think that stuff.”  He cradled your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours fiercely.  “I was just upset and lashing out and I…  I swear to you, I will never say anything like that ever again.  But please don’t leave.”

You curled against his chest, comforted by the heat of his embrace.  “I won’t.  I’m not leaving, I promise.  I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

There’d been a lot of crying last night after you two had made up and talked through everything.

And then a lot of make up sex, but there was usually a lot of sex after he got back from a mission, no matter how long he’d been gone.

A smile creeps t across his lips as he reaches down and lightly brushes his fingers against your inner thighs, feeling the heat from the beard burn he’d left.

Sunlight’s crept a little further up the bed, reaching your tangled legs.  Your foot brushes against his calf as you start to stir, your nose smushed against his chest.

Bucky coos softly, caressing your soft cheek to get you to fall back into your slumber.  It takes a few minutes, but he does it.  Somehow, he manages to untangle your limbs and slip out of the bed undetected.  He freezes as you mumble, shifting towards the warmth of the spot he’s just vacated, and he feels kinda bad.  He knows how much you love how warm he is.

But he needs to get something.

He takes a moment to fix the curtains so you can sleep a little longer before heading for the closet.

Everything is out of its usual order thanks to your hasty exit and then return.  Neither of you had cared much about the proper order of the closet once he had you in his arms.

But that’s beside the point.

It’s not hard to find.  He gets on his knees and goes through the line of his shoes, finding the very last pair of black combat boots.  They’re shiny and brand new, lacking the wear and tear of his other pairs.  Bucky reaches into the right shoe and pulls out a small ring box, his heart hammering.

Is he really gonna do this?

Yeah.  Yeah, he is, because he’d been more scared the past three or so days than he had been in his entire life.

He would rather go through everything Hydra had put him through again than ever risk losing you again.  All the torture, all the pain, all the wiping.  All of it has led him to you and god, it was worth it to wake up to your sweet face.

There weren’t girls like you back in the forties, and he couldn’t imagine going back like Steve had.

But he supposes if Steve felt about Peggy the way he feels about you, then…  How could he blame him?

The lid flips open as he sits on the closet floor, the diamonds gleaming in the light.

It had taken a lot of work to get the ring that had belonged to his Ma, which was ridiculous considering it’s his family.

But the Smithsonian apparently doesn’t like giving back items that could be considered stolen property.

It took him threatening to break in and take it by force (as well as a lot of other stuff) for them to hand it over.

He then got it cleaned and resized for you, and it’s been sitting in that shoe for three months now, waiting for the perfect time.

But there is something he has to do first.

Bucky creeps to the bedside table, sneaking a glance at your peaceful face as he grabs his phone and then disappears into the bathroom.  It’s there that he types out his message to Pepper and Sam.

Bucky: I’m out of missions permanently.  I’ll train new recruits and if there’s a Thanos level threat, I’ll jump in, but otherwise, I’m done.  I gotta think about my girl.

He turns off his phone before he gets a reply, setting it back on the table as he climbs into bed, the ring box clutched tightly in his hand.  There’s no space for missions when he wants a future with you, with the possibility of a family, maybe a few little ones running around in a few years.  He can’t handle seeing the fear in your eyes when he kisses you goodbye anymore, or the disappointment when he slipped off to the quinjet.

And he wants to be there for your future.  He doesn’t wanna leave you as a widow or a single mother.  He wants to be there with you for every step of life.

His lips press to your forehead as he gently curls around you again.  God, he could just stay in bed with you forever.

“Jamie?”

Bucky can’t say he’s shocked when you wake, your eyes slowly blinking open to find him already looking down at you.  “Good morning, pretty girl,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid to break the stillness of the morning.

Even though he’s sure it’s almost noon.

He takes a breath, resting his forehead against yours.  “You know how much I love you, right?”

“Well… yeah,” you say quietly as your nimble fingers reach up to run through his shaggy brown hair.  Maybe you would give him a haircut soon, sit on the bathroom sink as he stood in front of you.

“If I…”  Bucky swallows around the lump in his throat, suddenly overcome with emotion.  “If I told you that I texted Sam and told him I’m out of missions forever…  If I told you that from now on I’m only gonna help train new recruits…”

“Yes?”  You don’t move, blinking up at him with a fond smile on your lips.

And god, he’s so grateful for you and your patience.  You know whatever he’s going to say is important and he needs your full attention.

That, and you’re also excited about the possibility of not having to worry about him dying every other week on a mission.

He brings the ring box into view, his mouth drier than the Sahara as he opens it up.  “Will you marry me?” He breathes out.

A giggle escapes your lips as you lean forward and kiss him fiercely, your arms thrown around him.  “I thought you’d never ask,” you mumble against his lips.  Everything that had been said in the heat of the moment those few days ago is forgotten as he slides the ring on your finger and holds you to his chest.

And Bucky can’t help but smile as the sunlight hits your face, illuminating your gorgeous eyes.  He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this morning with you, waking up next to you in his t-shirt, but he’d spend the rest of his life earning every single sunrise.

[softprincesso]

✨HOW TO BECOME A WEALTHY MIDDLE-AGED MAN✨

PT.2: Overview to understanding different saving/retirement methods, investments, and forms of income

2.1 Savings and Retirement

Welcome lovelies to (what I hope will be) a helpful series on gaining wealth and becoming financially literate and independent!

*disclaimer: while this advice can generally apply to many it will not apply to all. Everyone is in a different situation and should do their own research before they take what ANYONE says as fact or law. This is also coming from the perspective of a young, biracial, first generation female business student following a hypergamous lifestyle and who does sw so some advice may be specific to my like-minded ladies, but for the most part I just love money and want to help others find joy in their wallets as well. I am also operating in the US so things regarding accounts, stocks, and certain laws will vary by your country. Also, this is just a fun thing I wanted to do because talking about leveling up and learning and growing and money are my favorite past times. None of these pictures are mine, however I am using some links which may compensate me in some way, but I only used links which were mutually beneficial and would help you gain something as well, they are still just actual sources I use for myself.

✨THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND✨

Financial independence is different than financial confidence.

Financial Independence: “The most common sense of the term is that someone has enough wealth to live as they wish for the rest of their life without having to work.” -Investopedia https://www.investopedia.com/financial-edge/0611/declare-your-own-financial-independence-day.aspx

Financial Confidence: “We define financial confidence as having three aspects,” says Miler. “The first is awareness of how money can be a tool for helping you reach your goals and dreams. The second is financial literacy and understanding economic factors. The third is trust and knowing where to turn for financial advice.” -Forbes https://www.forbes.com/sites/shelleyzalis/2018/06/16/women-money-8-steps-for-growing-your-financial-confidence/?sh=2175b65e2468

While the ultimate goal is financial independence, financial confidence should be the main focus. I’ll give an example why. Imagine there are two people: Rhonda and Jill. Both of them like nice things, love to shop, and participate in the occasional splurge. Rhonda works a regular 9-5 and has a decent salary. She doesn’t have much financial knowledge (translation: financial confidence), but she has a savings account at her local bank and puts a couple hundred into retirement each year and she thinks that's enough. Suddenly, Rhonda wins the lottery. Overnight she has become a millionaire, so she quits her job, moves to LA, and goes on to live life to the fullest. She would now be considered financially independent. However, Rhonda has no idea how to manage all that money. She puts a small amount into that bank savings account and takes the rest to do what she will. One day she tries her luck at a casino, in less than five hours she has lost all of her money and has to start back at square one with no job, only a few thousand to get her through, and no-good way to explain to employers that she just wasted the last 5 years spending money on handbags she now has to sell at a depreciated value. (BTW you would not last not working with only a million dollars in LA for that long)

Now, let’s look at Jill. Jill is an independent contractor and has a relatively steady income. She knows very little about finances, but she actively learns how to manage what she has and keeps up to date on the latest money news. The day that Rhonda won the lottery was just another Thursday for Jill, the only unique point for her was that she opened a savings accounts with a high APY (we’ll say 1%) and put in $5000.00. A little later she also opened a Roth IRA and puts in the maximum yearly allowance of $6000.00. Along the way she opened a brokerage account of her own and started trading in the stock market along with investing in real estate which has given her some extra income to play with each year. Unfortunately, another housing crash occurs, and all of the money Jill invested into real estate is gone. However, since Jill learned the skills behind her choices early on, she is knowledgeable and understands the ups and downs of the market and how to invest her money in other places in the meantime. And, that High yield savings account accrued around $50 more without her doing anything and she has that to fall back on, or worst case she can take out part of her principal Roth IRA contribution. 10 years from now Jill should start to see a steady increase in her Roth IRA that by retirement will be a little over 1 million and she should be comfortable and invested enough into stocks that she gains around $200-1000 extra each month.

I think you understand why you want to be Jill.

✨HAVING ADEQUATE SAVINGS = BEING YOUR OWN LIFEGUARD✨

As discussed in Pt.1 the first goal you should achieve is securing an emergency fund that could sustain you for a couple of months if things were to ever hit the fan, and starting a retirement fund should be in your top 5 goals to complete. The saying, “the rich get richer” is popular for a reason. Wealthy people know how to make their money work for them instead of them having to work for money. An easy way anyone can do the same is by opening the right accounts for your savings and retirement.

Savings: 

All of your savings should be in a high yield saving account or split between different high yield accounts. This is an account which will reward you some interest every period for having money in your account with them. This is incredibly easy to do. You can either research/ask your bank about their high yield accounts or do some googling to find some other bank. Then transfer your money and there you go! When looking at banks understand that the highest Annual Percent Yields (APY), or the interest they will reward you, are going to be from online banks because they have less operational costs than a brick and mortar, but they will also come with their own disadvantages, like less ATMs to access or the inability to use when outside of your country so make sure to look into that. IMPORTANT: Make sure that whatever bank you choose is FDIC-insured so if the bank were to ever collapse or lose your money you have insurance up to $250,000.This won't generate a lot of extra cash, but an extra $20 every year is better than $0.

Retirement:

These accounts usually go by your current situation and what you see for your future.

401K: Probably the most known (I believe it’s only in the States but there might be something close to it in other countries) and that’s just because this is what employers usually offer if they offer anything. It is a retirement fund that your employer will set up and you can predefine how much of your paycheck you want to automatically go into it every time. Sometimes, the employers will also have a match program, and if they do you better max out the money they will contribute because that is FREE money! Most advice that I have seen has said to really only focus on this fund if your employer has that match program, otherwise I would focus on one of the accounts below. https://www.investopedia.com/articles/retirement/08/401k-info.asp

IRA: An IRA stands for Individual Retirement Account. There are three kinds…

                         Traditional: This IRA lets you put in pre-tax money and lets it grow tax-free until you make a withdrawal. Once you make the withdrawal that money is taxed at the current rate of your income at the time. Your contributions are tax deductible so you can write them off of your taxable income of that year. There are limits to how much you can contribute depending on your income, status, and whether you have another retirement fund as well.

                          Roth: With this IRA your contributions are taxed, but when you withdrawal money later on it is tax free. For those of you in a lower tax bracket than you believe you will be in the future, this IRA makes the most sense as you will pay less taxes now than you will when you are 59 ½ (The official age of retirement in the States). There are limits to how much you can contribute depending on your income, status, and whether you have another retirement fund as well.

                           SEP: Simplified Employee Pension. This is also an employer-based plan and may also work better for my self-employed gals out there. I don’t really know a lot on this one so I’ll just leave a link you can look into if it interests you: https://www.investopedia.com/ask/answers/102714/how-does-simplified-employee-pension-sep-ira-work.asp

You can have both a traditional and Roth IRA as long as you are eligible for both. Anyone with earned income (with a job or can prove a steady income) can contribute to a Traditional IRA, however with a Roth IRA, as a single you can earn up to $139,000 and contribute. Personally, if you are just getting started with all of this just set up one IRA and as you learn more you can take steps to get another or switch accounts.

https://www.investopedia.com/retirement/roth-vs-traditional-ira-which-is-right-for-you/

There are a plethora of other accounts, but they are more specialized and the top four should get you started on the right path to saving for retirement. I’m guessing that the majority of the audience reading these are women between the ages of 20-30. Trust me when I say that I love to spend money as much as the next girl, but I also would like to be completely comfortable should anything happen in my older years that screws up my marriage or job, and no one is going to secure that for you.

Also, I’m sorry this is so US-based, but once again it is all I know. I believe IRAs are more widespread than a 401K, but all that takes to find out is a Google search on your part.

Either way, make sure you have a plan going into 2021 for your savings and retirement because this economic whirlwind is far from over and there is always a chance for another recession, depression, or disaster. (Wow O, way to keep the mood light)

This was getting way too long with the investments added so look out for Pt.2.2 on the overview for investments (where the actual fun begins and I can stop being such a stick in the mud)…

VOCAB TO KNOW/RESEARCH:

Financial independence

Financial Confidence

APY

Roth IRA

brokerage account

High yield savings account

principal

401K

Traditional IRA

Once again… if in these posts I ever give bad advice, F- something up, or am just generally ignorant PLEASE call me out! Remember that just like you I am a young woman figuring everything out and while I am confident when talking about money, I am by no means a genius (only in spurts) so any chance to learn I appreciate. I hope you all learned something new today and as always…

With Love,

O

[poetrusicperry]

the poets and their first summer jobs

i’ve seen some discourse about how rich all the boys/their families are, and of course there would be like very little reason for them to work, but i couldn’t help wondering who would do what for their first jobs (summer jobs bc they couldn’t work while they’re at school). andddd that led me to writing this lol

neil: so neil would have like absolutely zero time for a job between all his normal coursework/extracurriculars and his summer classes (”you know me, always taking on too much”), but i guarantee you he would still take the time to get a job and have his own money to do with whatever he chose. mr. perry wouldn’t care much because it showed neil “taking initiative” or whatever. neil would likely work at a diner as either a bus boy or a waiter. he’s super personable, so he’d always strike up conversations with people sitting at the counter, and he’d get loads of tips bc he’s cute (: he’d bring his summer school work with him to do during lulls in business, which his boss didn’t mind because it’s neil and everyone knows how responsible he is. the poets would come visit him pretty much every day (to eat, see neil, and escape the heat in the air conditioning), likely taking up a whole booth, and making an absolute mess of the area. charlie would be making spitballs, aiming at cameron and knox every time (earning a “charlie, knock it off, i told you three times already! so mature of you, really.” from cameron) and meeks/pitts would try to see how many straws they could connect to make “ultra straw.” todd would come hang out at the counter when neil was closing, admiring his pretty bf as he worked (’: neil would always make todd a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and rainbow jimmies on the house, claiming, “we have to empty out the ice cream machine anyway” (but really he’d take the cost out of his paycheck, just wanting to make todd happy). his boss would hire him back every summer, loving how much business neil drove in (even if the poets made a mess every time they hung out and ate) and absolutely adoring how much effort neil put into what anyone else would seemingly call a “meaningless” job.

todd: you can’t tell me that todd wouldn’t look forward to working. especially during the summers, it would get him out of the house and away from his parents judging his every move. being the shy introvert he is, he’d likely do things like mowing lawns or gardening for people around his neighborhood. minimal interactions, but still decent pay (as all the people in his neighborhood were likely super rich and could afford to pay him well). the poets’ parents would hire him, after much convincing from their sons (”todd’s just trying to make some money, dad. please?”) and todd would appreciate this more than they ever knew. he’d become super familiar with flower types and he’d become a lot more nurturing after taking care of plants and grass for multiple summers. he’d keep a little journal or notebook with drawings or sketches of the flowers he’d taken care of, complete with descriptions and magazine/newspaper clippings from his mom’s better homes and garden subscription (a lot of his poetry would become nature-related as well). it would be his late night project, or something he’d do if he couldn't sleep (which was pretty common for todd). he’d call neil on the phone some nights and just gush about all kinds of flowers or tell neil how he accidentally got stung by a bee and cried about it because he knew the bee would die (all the while, neil would be listening so intently, taking note about which flowers were todd’s favorites for future use (’: the calls would have to be pretty planned, bc if neil wasn’t working, he was doing school work, or his parents were keeping an annoyingly close watch on him. but sometimes neil would call him impromptu and that made todd just the happiest little camper ever). todd’s nails would be really short (he’d cut them really often because he doesn’t like the feeling of dirt under his nails), which means he couldn’t bite his nails anymore, causing him to pick up a new anxious habit of biting the inside of his bottom lip ): overall, though, todd would like his job, and even find pleasure in being surrounded by little flowers all day. also if/when neil ever got the chance, he’d absolutely tag along to see his sweaty boyfriend in action (come on, neil would go absolutely nuts for todd in a cutoff shirt, 5″ inseam shorts, and converse mowing a lawn looking all manly and tough). 

charlie: obviously, charlie wouldn’t need to work because of his financial situation, but his mom would 110% make him get a job just so he wouldn’t be around the house causing trouble/bothering his siblings for fun (”i’m hosting a lot of book club meetings for the country club this summer, i can’t have you putting spiders in the ladies’ hats again, charles”). similar to neil, mr. charlie dalton would work his summers at an ice cream/custard stand. he’d have to wear a white, short sleeve button up, a red and white striped apron, and one of those white, rectangular hats (his least favorite part HAHA, stating, “my hair is one of my best features and this just takes it all away. it’s unfair.”). the poets would visit often, both for ice cream, but primarily to give him a hard time about his uniform (”i’ll give you twenty bucks to wear this on our first day of classes” meeks would tease, completely gobsmacked when charlie showed up to their first chemistry class in his uniform, earning lots of demerits, but also twenty dollars). charlie would hate it at first, but obviously he’d adjust, being the extroverted/personable person, not taking himself too seriously and being one of the best ice cream slingers anyone had ever seen. he’d give the cute girls (and boys) extra scoops of ice cream for free, winking as he handed them their orders. like neil’s boss, charlie’s boss was even more thankful for charlie’s presence because they’d likely be raking in at least triple the income they would in a summer without him. he’d become a sundae expert, spending many dead poets meeting making them for his friends while they read poems and stories. that being said, he’d come to hate eating ice cream, publishing an article in welton’s honor demanding that they remove ice cream from their dessert menu (yes, almost exactly like the “girls at welton” prank, but he’d make the call collect this time. mr. nolan would be fed up to the point where he wouldn’t even punish charlie physically, just suspend him from rowing [which charlie wouldn’t mind at all HAHA]).

meeks & pitts: after their hi-fi success and the fact that they are seemingly inseparable, they both sought out jobs at the local radio station where they were hired as interns/assistants, running errands and picking up coffee or lunch for the station. but sometimes, when they worked pretty late, the night shift dj would let them pick the records and show them how everything worked (: after nights like that, meeks and pitts would go to one of their houses and add modifications to their hi-fi radio, staying up all night modifying and researching (by the end of the summer, they had made another hi-fi (portable) and their og hi-fi would have been morphed into a huge nationally reaching radio that they keep in the cave (since it would be disallowed in their room at welton). another job that the two of them would have would be answering calls for the station about song requests. with this knowledge, charlie and the other poets would hang out at someone’s house, calling and requesting the same songs over and over and over again. their biggest task for the summer would be organizing the shelves with all the records into alphabetical order (”duh, we should go by first name, meeks. which other way would it be” pitts would argue, only to find out that after they had spent about three weeks alphabetizing by first name, they were supposed to go by last name. “now who’s the idiot?” meeks would jeer, beginning to pull the records off the shelves). they’d also learn a lot about music from their night shift coworker, which would help in their quest to woo some ladies the following school year.

cameron: cameron liked spending his summers doing research projects for fun and just reading a whole lot, so you can imagine his displeasure at when his parents asked him to get a job (presumably to help with paying for his schooling). while upset about it, he wouldn’t complain, and took it on the chin, understanding the reasoning. he’d apply to a couple places, but ultimately end up as a grocery store cashier/stock boy. much like charlie, he’d have the same kind of uniform, but with a green apron instead. he’d spend most of his shift ringing people up at the register, being friendly and personable (something no one ever really realized about him !!). the poets’ moms would always see him and choose his register on purpose, using it as a chance to catch up or tell him to tell his parents that “the overstreets say hello!” or “mrs. anderson says hi!” pitts, meeks, and charlie would utilize cameron’s position at the supermarket to buy nudie magazines unembarrassed/slightly illegally HAHA (”come on, cameron! it’s not like you won’t be included in seeing them next year, too. we bring them to the meetings, you know that!” charlie would say, leaving cameron at a loss, reluctantly scanning the magazines and bagging them as pitts and meeks sniggered). charlie would wave, blow him a kiss, and wink as they left, “love you, richardddd.” sure enough, the magazines would make an appearance during the following school year and cameron was glad he had decided to let them buy the magazines lol. 

knox: out of all the poets, i feel like our knoxious would be the least inclined to work (yes, even less inclined than charlie). his parents wouldn’t even make him get a job because he simply didn’t need to, but to everyone’s surprise, he would volunteer at the animal shelter. the poets would later find out that it was a great way to meet girls (which is why he did it lmfao so they endlessly goaded him about it). charlie would visit often, and even took a rescue puppy home, much to charlie’s younger sister’s delight. charlie even wanted to start volunteering at the shelter to also meet girls, but he was too busy at the ice cream stand (plus, he had really grown to like it there so he didn’t want to leave). another effect of volunteering made knox super interested in zoology and animals, which brought out a newer, more nurturing/caring side to him, and who knows, maybe he’d go vegetarian somehow. he’d want to pursue a career in animal science or becoming a veterinarian, but mr. overstreet was hellbent on knox taking over the firm, so it seemed like a pipe dream. knox would continue to volunteer at the animal shelter, well into his career as a lawyer, and would even go to veterinary school in his 30s (when he was a nationally famous, established lawyer) to get certification to work with animals in a broader way (: 

hope you guys liked these. it was pretty fun to write, and i'd pay such good money to see neil, charlie, and cameron in their uniforms (and todd, but that’s neither here nor there). happy thursday !! let me know what you guys think of these <3(: