#kidding but not >_> that 'living paycheck to paycheck' thing on the news is so fucking real

[morganski-19]

Eddie was still in the coma, attached to so many tubes it made Wayne sick to look at sometimes. But they were keeping him alive, so he’ll manage. They were making sure he got to see his boy awake again.

There was still a metal cuff that was attached to his wrist. The other end attached to the bar of the hospital bed. As if he could spring up at any moment and just escape. When he’s been half dead for days. When Wayne hasn’t seen his eyes open since before Eddie went into hiding. 

He hasn’t seen his boy for over a full week. Even though he’s been lying there on the bed for the last few days. Eddie won’t be back with Wayne until he wakes up. If he wakes up.

Everyday Wayne’s been here in between his shifts. Can’t afford to take the days off, with having to get a new place and all. Part of his paycheck’s paying for the hotel room he’s staying in while trying to find somewhere new to live. Even the abandoned houses are too pricy, and the trailer park’s in shambles. 

Honestly, if he could, he’d be pulling as many doubles as possible just to get a new place and soon. But that would mean not being here. Might miss when he wakes up. Wayne doesn’t want to miss that. 

It’s not like he’s lonely here either. There’s been other visitors. The kid that Eddie always talked about from his dungeon game. The one that he secretly liked above the rest of the freshmen. His bandmates came by once, looking guilty as hell when they did. They haven’t been back since. 

There’s been a few other people Wayne hasn’t recognized. A few more kids from the club, some he didn’t even know Eddie knew. But they always came to check in before heading across the hall to see the boy there. The Harrington boy. 

Wayne recognized it was him one day when the door was left open. He was asleep, with an IV in his arm along with some other cords. Not as many as his boy, but still there. There was a girl in there too, short brown hair and wearing a baggy jacket with some patches. She was holding his hand. It never seemed like she let it go. 

The same girl checked in on Eddie a few times. Tried to make small talk with Wayne but left when she realized he was disinterested. Always heading back to the Harrington boy. 

All he knew is that they both came in at the same time. Got admitted one after the other, but Wayne didn’t know what order. That they both had to go through some type of surgery to deal with the injuries. Though he hears Harrington’s was more cosmetic than anything. Eddie’s was to save his life. 

Not that he’s judging. People could do whatever they wanted for all he cared. There were different doctor’s for different things. Priorities and all that. He just hoped that Harringotn wasn’t higher up on the list than Eddie was. Eddie was clearly the one in the worst condition. 

The kid that kept visiting Eddie went over there a lot too. Dustin, is the kid’s name. Wayne can’t remember it half the time, he’s too busy focusing on something else. And just bone tired. But after Dustin sits next to Wayne for a while, updates Eddie on everything that’s happened that day, sometimes reads to him, he heads right across the hall and does it all again. Every single time. 

Wayne has no clue how this boy could possibly be close with both Eddie and the Harrington kid. It’s not like they were in the same circles. Or seemed to remotely like each other at all. Wayne can explicitly remember the Harrington boy being apart of one of Eddie’s hate filled rampages. But if he’s remembering right, there was something different that really pissed Eddie off about him. Something that’s wrapped up in the same reason Wayne’s never seen Eddie bring a girl home. 

But day after day, Dustin goes to Steve’s room after stopping by Eddie. Wayne can see why Eddie liked Dustin. He’s loud and dramatic just like Eddie. Likes the same game, same books, even starting to like the same music. But Dustin and the Harrington boy. He doesn’t get it. 

Until he’s walking down the hall to get a cup of coffee and hears it. The bickering that leads into laughter. Snippy comments about something filled with inside jokes. Suddenly it all makes sense. They almost seem like brothers. 

It’s a few more days until Wayne meets the Harrington boy himself. A nurse coming to check Eddie’s vitals leaves the door open on accident. Harrington peaks through when he’s on a walk down the hallway. 

“Why is he handcuffed?” is the first thing Wayne hears from the kid. Voice filled with anger. 

Before Wayne can get annoyed at explaining the whole situation to another stranger, explain how he knows his boy is innocent, the nurse is yelling at him. 

“You can’t be in here, sir.”

“I don’t give a shit. Why is he handcuffed? He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Wayne is surprised that he’s not the one making the case this time. Somehow, this kid he’s never met believes his nephew is innocent. Just like he does. 

The nurse snaps her folder shut, walking up to Steve and waving for help through the door. “That is private information. Go back to your room before you’re forced to.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a snarl, undoing the buttons on the front of his hospital shirt. “He didn’t give me these. He didn’t kill those kids. I know, I was there.” He begins to pull back the bandages, revealing scarred, mauled skin that looks just like Eddies. The nurse scolds him to stop. “He’s innocent, so why is he handcuffed to the bed?”

“He is still a suspect and deemed dangerous. Now get back to your room.”

More another nurse grabs Steve’s arm to try and pull him to his room. He shakes it off. 

“Dangerous,” his voice raises. “He’s been in a coma for days and you think he’s dangerous. What is he going to do, pop up out of bed like he hasn’t been fucking asleep for days and almost died just to run away? He couldn’t do that if he tried.”

Security gets involved now, physically pushing Steve out of the doorway. The nurse shuts the door to Eddie’s room, cutting Wayne off from seeing it. She apoligized for the intrusion and gets back to checking on Eddie. 

“He’s right, you know,” Wayne says, still hearing the noise from the hall. “My boy didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Can’t escape even if he tried. Or attack anyone for that matter. He’s been through enough, he doesn’t need to wake up to a cuff around his wrist.”

The nurse purses her lips, strained. “This is from above me, sir. But if the news is true, the cuffs are staying on.”

When the nurse opens the door again, the hall is clear. 

The next time Wayne sees Harrington is when he leaves for the day. Only able to fall asleep so many times in a shitty hospital chair before needing to go home. Security presses for him to stay in his room, warning him. 

“Just going to make a fucking phone call. I’m allowed to do that right?” When the security guard crosses his arms, the kid hits him with, “Don’t want me to get my dad involved, do you? Isn’t he one of the main donors for this hospital? Be such a shame if he stopped.”

Wayne almost laughs when the security guard moves out of the way. Harrington giving him the finger with a smirk as he walks down the hall to the payphone. 

Maybe Eddie and the Harrington kid had more in common than Wayne thought. 

now with a part 2

[mostlysignssomeportents]

There’s no such thing as “shareholder supremacy”

On SEPTEMBER 24th, I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Here's a cheap trick: claim that your opponents' goals are so squishy and qualitative that no one will ever be able to say whether they've been succeeded or failed, and then declare that your goals can be evaluated using crisp, objective criteria.

This is the whole project of "economism," the idea that politics, with its emphasis on "fairness" and other intangibles, should be replaced with a mathematical form of economics, where every policy question can be reduced to an equation…and then "solved":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/28/imagine-a-horse/#perfectly-spherical-cows-of-uniform-density-on-a-frictionless-plane

Before the rise of economism, it was common to speak of its subjects as "political economy" or even "moral philosophy" (Adam Smith, the godfather of capitalism, considered himself a "moral philosopher"). "Political economy" implicitly recognizes that every policy has squishy, subjective, qualitative dimensions that don't readily boil down to math.

For example, if you're asking about whether people should have the "freedom" to enter into contracts, it might be useful to ask yourself how desperate your "free" subject might be, and whether the entity on the other side of that contract is very powerful. Otherwise you'll get "free contracts" like "I'll sell you my kidneys if you promise to evacuate my kid from the path of this wildfire."

The problem is that power is hard to represent faithfully in quantitative models. This may seem like a good reason to you to be skeptical of modeling, but for economism, it's a reason to pretend that the qualitative doesn't exist. The method is to incinerate those qualitative factors to produce a dubious quantitative residue and do math on that:

https://locusmag.com/2021/05/cory-doctorow-qualia/

Hence the famous Ely Devons quote: "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’"

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

The neoliberal revolution was a triumph for economism. Neoliberal theorists like Milton Friedman replaced "political economy" with "law and economics," the idea that we should turn every one of our complicated, nuanced, contingent qualitative goals into a crispy defined "objective" criteria. Friedman and his merry band of Chicago School economists replaced traditional antitrust (which sought to curtail the corrupting power of large corporations) with a theory called "consumer welfare" that used mathematics to decide which monopolies were "efficient" and therefore good (spoiler: monopolists who paid Friedman's pals to do this mathematical analysis always turned out to be running "efficient" monopolies):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

One of Friedman's signal achievements was the theory of "shareholder supremacy." In 1970, the New York Times published Friedman's editorial "The Social Responsibility of Business Is to Increase Its Profits":

https://www.nytimes.com/1970/09/13/archives/a-friedman-doctrine-the-social-responsibility-of-business-is-to.html

In it, Friedman argued that corporate managers had exactly one job: to increase profits for shareholders. All other considerations – improving the community, making workers' lives better, donating to worthy causes or sponsoring a little league team – were out of bounds. Managers who wanted to improve the world should fund their causes out of their paychecks, not the corporate treasury.

Friedman cloaked his hymn to sociopathic greed in the mantle of objectivism. For capitalism to work, corporations have to solve the "principal-agent" problem, the notoriously thorny dilemma created when one person (the principal) asks another person (the agent) to act on their behalf, given the fact that the agent might find a way to line their own pockets at the principal's expense (for example, a restaurant server might get a bigger tip by offering to discount diners' meals).

Any company that is owned by stockholders and managed by a CEO and other top brass has a huge principal-agent problem, and yet, the limited liability, joint-stock company had produced untold riches, and was considered the ideal organization for "capital formation" by Friedman et al. In true economismist form, Friedman treated all the qualitative questions about the duty of a company as noise and edited them out of the equation, leaving behind a single, elegant formulation: "a manager is doing their job if they are trying to make as much money as possible for their shareholders."

Friedman's formulation was a hit. The business community ran wild with it. Investors mistook an editorial in the New York Times for an SEC rulemaking and sued corporate managers on the theory that they had a "fiduciary duty" to "maximize shareholder value" – and what's more, the courts bought it. Slowly and piecemeal at first, but bit by bit, the idea that rapacious greed was a legal obligation turned into an edifice of legal precedent. Business schools taught it, movies were made about it, and even critics absorbed the message, insisting that we needed to "repeal the law" that said that corporations had to elevate profit over all other consideration (not realizing that no such law existed).

It's easy to see why shareholder supremacy was so attractive for investors and their C-suite Renfields: it created a kind of moral crumple-zone. Whenever people got angry at you for being a greedy asshole, you could shrug and say, "My hands are tied: the law requires me to run the business this way – if you don't believe me, just ask my critics, who insist that we must get rid of this law!"

In a long feature for The American Prospect, Adam M Lowenstein tells the story of how shareholder supremacy eventually came into such wide disrepute that the business lobby felt that it had to do something about it:

https://prospect.org/power/2024-09-17-ponzi-scheme-of-promises/

It starts in 2018, when Jamie Dimon and Warren Buffett decried the short-term, quarterly thinking in corporate management as bad for business's long-term health. When Washington Post columnist Steve Pearlstein wrote a column agreeing with them and arguing that even moreso, businesses should think about equities other than shareholder returns, Jamie Dimon lost his shit and called Pearlstein to call it "the stupidest fucking column I’ve ever read":

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2018/06/07/will-ending-quarterly-earnings-guidance-free-ceos-to-think-long-term/

But the dam had broken. In the months and years that followed, the Business Roundtable would adopt a series of statements that repudiated shareholder supremacy, though of course they didn't admit it. Rather, they insisted that they were clarifying that they'd always thought that sometimes not being a greedy asshole could be good for business, too. Though these statements were nonbinding, and though the CEOs who signed them did so in their personal capacity and not on behalf of their companies, capitalism's most rabid stans treated this as an existential crisis.

Lowenstein identifies this as the forerunner to today's panic over "woke corporations" and "DEI," and – just as with "woke capitalism" – the whole thing amounted to a a PR exercise. Lowenstein links to several studies that found that the CEOs who signed onto statements endorsing "stakeholder capitalism" were "more likely to lay off employees during COVID-19, were less inclined to contribute to pandemic relief efforts, had 'higher rates of environmental and labor-related compliance violations,”' emitted more carbon into the atmosphere, and spent more money on dividends and buybacks."

One researcher concluded that "signing this statement had zero positive effect":

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/08/companies-stand-solidarity-are-licensing-themselves-discriminate/614947

So shareholder supremacy isn't a legal obligation, and statements repudiating shareholder supremacy don't make companies act any better.

But there's an even more fundamental flaw in the argument for the shareholder supremacy rule: it's impossible to know if the rule has been broken.

The shareholder supremacy rule is an unfalsifiable proposition. A CEO can cut wages and lay off workers and claim that it's good for profits because the retained earnings can be paid as a dividend. A CEO can raise wages and hire more people and claim it's good for profits because it will stop important employees from defecting and attract the talent needed to win market share and spin up new products.

A CEO can spend less on marketing and claim it's a cost-savings. A CEO can spend more on marketing and claim it's an investment. A CEO can eliminate products and call it a savings. A CEO can add products and claim they're expansions into new segments. A CEO can settle a lawsuit and claim they're saving money on court fees. A CEO can fight a lawsuit through to the final appeal and claim that they're doing it to scare vexatious litigants away by demonstrating their mettle.

CEOs can use cheaper, inferior materials and claim it's a savings. They can use premium materials and claim it's a competitive advantage that will produce new profits. Everything a company does can be colorably claimed as an attempt to save or make money, from sponsoring the local little league softball team to treating effluent to handing ownership of corporate landholdings to perpetual trusts that designate them as wildlife sanctuaries.

Bribes, campaign contributions, onshoring, offshoring, criminal conspiracies and conference sponsorships – there's a business case for all of these being in line with shareholder supremacy.

Take Boeing: when the company smashed its unions and relocated key production to scab plants in red states, when it forced out whistleblowers and senior engineers who cared about quality, when it outsourced design and production to shops around the world, it realized a savings. Today, between strikes, fines, lawsuits, and a mountain of self-inflicted reputational harm, the company is on the brink of ruin. Was Boeing good to its shareholders? Well, sure – the shareholders who cashed out before all the shit hit the fan made out well. Shareholders with a buy-and-hold posture (like the index funds that can't sell their Boeing holdings so long as the company is in the S&P500) got screwed.

Right wing economists criticize the left for caring too much about "how big a slice of the pie they're getting" rather than focusing on "growing the pie." But that's exactly what Boeing management did – while claiming to be slaves to Friedman's shareholder supremacy. They focused on getting a bigger slice of the pie, screwing their workers, suppliers and customers in the process, and, in so doing, they made the pie so much smaller that it's in danger of disappearing altogether.

Here's the principal-agent problem in action: Boeing management earned bonuses by engaging in corporate autophagia, devouring the company from within. Now, long-term shareholders are paying the price. Far from solving the principal-agent problem with a clean, bright-line rule about how managers should behave, shareholder supremacy is a charter for doing whatever the fuck a CEO feels like doing. It's the squishiest rule imaginable: if someone calls you cruel, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. If someone calls you feckless, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. It's an excuse for every season.

The idea that you can reduce complex political questions – like whether workers should get a raise or whether shareholders should get a dividend – to a mathematical rule is a cheap sleight of hand. The trick is an obvious one: the stuff I want to do is empirically justified, while the things you want are based in impossible-to-pin-down appeals to emotion and its handmaiden, ethics. Facts don't care about your feelings, man.

But it's feelings all the way down. Milton Friedman's idol-worshiping cult of shareholder supremacy was never about empiricism and objectivity. It's merely a gimmick to make greed seem scientifically optimal.

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/18/falsifiability/#figleaves-not-rubrics/a>

[nonasuch]

here is a fun little star wars scenario that has been pinging around inside my head like a screensaver:

so let’s say there’s some very zealous, very low-ranking fresh young Imperial officer on duty the day they take the Senator from Alderaan into custody. 

and he is very very nervous because a) he’s been here for like a week and b) none of that week required him to be in a room with Darth Vader. which he now is. so he is trying to focus very very hard on Doing Everything Exactly According To Protocol, as a means of not focusing on the seven-foot evil wizard standing fifteen feet away.

and part of the protocol for processing new prisoners is to make a new file for them in the prisoner database, and enter all their biographical details and vital statistics and a gene sample and their known associates and the nature of their terrible crimes against the Empire and so on. which he does! very meticulously!

except the computer keeps throwing an error message. the stupid thing keeps beeping at him, this awful grating little noise that makes his shoulders ratchet up tighter and tighter every time it honks at him, and he can’t fix it and Darth Vader is right over there—

except oh god oh fuck the beeping noise must be annoying Darth Vader, too, because he’s coming over here and our poor junior officer is convinced he’s going to die before he even lives long enough to send his first paycheck home to his poor widowed mother —

he stammers out an apology. Vader just stares at him. he swears he’ll figure out the problem right away, sir, it’s probably a bug in the system, it’s just that for some silly reason it keeps saying this gene sample doesn’t match the one on file for the Senator so he can’t get her logged as a new prisoner just yet —

“Dismissed,” says Vader. the poor kid flees, gratefully.

Vader considers the matter. in fact, his underling was correct: the gene sample, which he saw taken through his very own helmet lenses, does not match the official record of Senator Leia Organa, heir to the throne of Alderaan. so: perhaps the sample on record was falsified. not impossible, but very, very difficult. and ordinarily a crime attempted by the lowly and desperate. he cannot see any need for it, in the daughter of a queen.

another possibility presents itself. Alderaan has no history of using royal doubles, as some worlds do. but Bail Organa has worked closely with royal houses where the practice is long-established. perhaps he was inspired. perhaps the girl they captured is not Leia Organa at all.

Vader runs the gene sample against the ship’s database. it is woefully incomplete, of course, containing only a fraction of the Empire’s billions of citizens: the ship’s own complement, a selection of known criminals and Rebels they might encounter, high-ranking officials whose identity must be confirmed should the Emperor require their presence. unlikely that this girl, whoever she is, would have a record here, or even a partial match—

the computer beeps at him. it’s a cheerful beep, this time, not the error message that stymied the junior officer. the computer reports that the gene sample is a partial match for Pooja Naberrie, the Senator from Naboo. they are, with eighty-nine percent probability, first cousins.

and Vader just. kind of stands there. for a minute.

when he goes to Leia’s cell, there’s no interrogation droid with him. he goes in. he shuts the door behind him. he stands there, silent, for frankly a worryingly long time, until Leia has run through her entire stockpile of  “how dare you, I’m a member of the Senate on a humanitarian mission” and “whatever you want, you can’t possibly think I would be of any help” and “well, if you’re going to interrogate me, get on with it already” and “are you even listening to me?” and  falls silent herself. 

Vader has been listening to her. he has also been listening to the Force, which seems to think that she’s not lying. obviously the humanitarian mission part is bullshit, that goes without saying. but the “I’m Senator Leia Organa” parts and the “I won’t help you” parts? yeah. he searched his feelings. he knows them to be true. the Force is singing in his head, bright and clear, in a way it hasn’t for nearly twenty years.

there’s still Tarkin to deal with, though. Vader turns and leaves the cell without a word.

Tarkin wants to blow up Alderaan. this is unacceptable, obviously, and Vader forbids it on the grounds that the Queen and the Viceroy possess vital intelligence, not disclosed to their daughter, that must be acquired. said intelligence being, not that he’s saying this out loud, how the fuck Bail got his hands on his daughter, and who else knows about it.

“the fate of the galaxy rests on it,” is what he does say out loud. from the way the Force harmonizes with his words, that might even be true.

so the Death Star just. parks there. in an incredibly threatening orbit around the planet. they issue a demand that the Organas surrender themselves, or else, but apparently the happy couple just left for a low-tech weekend retreat in the mountains, what awful timing, they’re sending someone to fetch them right away. Vader shuts himself up in his quarters, to seethe and watch the surveillance feed from Leia’s cell. he’s not really paying attention to much else. 

and it’s not like a random freighter getting tractored in for being an incredibly obvious smuggling vessel is the kind of thing you’d alert Darth Vader over, anyway. 

so he’s still sitting there, one great big thought filling up his whole entire head, watching Leia take a frustration nap, when her cell door opens. 

and a trooper comes in.

and the trooper takes off his helmet.

and he says, “I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”

(continued here)

[loafgeto]

ᝬ 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⤵︎

toji fushiguro x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re getting your first apartment with your own money, but there has been a complication with the housing and you were accidentally roomed with a stranger.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ mdni, explicit language, age gap (reader is 22, while toji is 30), she/her pronouns, big dick toji, masturbation, teasing, dirty talk, size kink, fingering, squirting, orgasming, unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), slight breast play, pet names (pretty/good girl, sweetheart, princess). if i miss anything lmk. NOT proofread, ignore typos

wc: 6.4k (DIDNT KNOW I WROTE THIS MUCH LMFAOO)

a/n: uh if you guys see me use “princess” so much then like don’t mind me cuz i love the pet name and toji seems to suit saying it too. anyways, contemplating on what to write next 😟

After graduating university and acquiring your dream job, you were finally able to buy your own apartment with your savings from countless overworking shifts and paychecks. To say the least, all of the exhaustion and frustration was definitely worth it.

Today was the day you’d get your keys, and officially move in your things. The apartment consisted of a single bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen and a personal laundry area— all suitable for one person. When you first toured the building, you instantly fell in love and knew it was going to be your place of living for a while. So, you signed the paperwork and officially got the place.

You arrived at your apartment that afternoon, the feeling of excitement flowing through your veins. The neighborhood was relatively welcoming and safe, and there were many amenities surrounding the area, making it easily accessible.

As you were walking to the main office to retrieve your keys, your attention was primarily directed to the nature around you, along with the lively kids running around at the playground and other residents walking by, greeting you with smiles and quick hellos.

After settling in, you planned to get yourself a pet— whether it be a dog or cat, or both. You wanted some company at least.

When you arrived at the main office, you were greeted by a timid young man. “Hello there! Good afternoon. How may I help you today?” he questions when you approach the desk.

“Hello! I’m here to pick up my keys to my apartment. I just moved into the neighborhood,” you reply with a smile.

“Of course, may I have your name?” the male continues to inquire and you give him your information before he goes into the back. He returns shortly afterwards with a key and a piece of paper. “Here are your keys! If you have any concerns or questions please come back here.”

“Thank you so much,” you give the young man a final smile before you took the keys into your own hands. You were way beyond excited now and quickly left the main office to return to your car which was parked right by your apartment.

The movers would arrive that evening, so you were able to use some hours to adjust to the new place— or even buy some groceries since you already had a fridge installed— or figure out how to decorate the entire apartment. There were many options for you to choose, but you decided to pick whenever you got there.

At the same time, you couldn’t help but wonder who your neighbors would be. Would they be welcoming and respectful? Or rude and impolite? Even if they weren’t the best people, you’d hope to at least get on their good side so there’d be no issues.

You arrived at your apartment’s door minutes later, thrilled to unlock it and step inside, getting a whiff of the new life ahead of you. APARTMENT D, 404. Inserting the keys into the key hole, you twist and unlock the door before pushing the door open.

Of course, this apartment was only suitable for at least one person and if a couple were to move in together, they’d have to work together on the space. So, is someone going to tell you why a man is standing right ahead of you— drenched in shower water and only in a towel that’s wrapped around his hips?

Your mouth dropped, eyes observing how defined and muscular his entire body was, but that wasn’t the point. Clearly, you stepped into the wrong apartment. Right?

“O-Oh- I’m so sorry! I think I accidentally went into the wrong apartment!” you could feel blood rush to your cheeks due to embarrassment and you quickly avoid gazes with him. You were confused, you knew this was your apartment— your keys, the slip and signed papers could prove it all.

So why—

“You’re Y/n?” the male questions, clearly unaffected by the situation.

“Huh? Oh- yeah! Yes, I’m Y/n!” you reply, giving him a nod as you finally turn to him. Gosh, what is happening? “I-I’m so sorry once again, I probably got my keys mixed up or something—“

“You didn’t,” the male intervenes, now approaching closer to you.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re goin’ to be roommates for a while, until they get the housing shit sorted out. You heard, didn’t you?” he questions, tilting his head, as if you were already aware of this situation.

“Huh? Roommates?” your eyes widen, mouth dropping once again. From what you can recall, no one and nothing has mentioned about you getting a roommate— let alone it being a guy!

“Oh, guess not then,” the male awkwardly rubs the back of his neck with his hand, finally understanding that you had no knowledge about this whatsoever. “Let’s introduce each other first then. Toji Fushiguro, nice to meet you, sweetheart. We’ll be roommates for a week or so.”

“Wh-What? Okay, I did not pay and sign the papers for this!” you raise your voice and Toji only shrugs.

“Complain to them. Not me.”

And you did. After Toji dressed himself in proper clothes, you dragged him with you back to the main office. It was natural for someone to be infuriated and confused with this matter, but you couldn’t believe it was happening to you.

You always check your messages and emails, even from accounts you barely ever use, and you swore you never detected anything that would relate to having a complete stranger living with you in your new apartment. There were no letters or calls from the management of the apartment complex either, so you were still confused on why this was happening.

“We’re very sorry for the inconvenience, miss Y/n and mister Toji,” the manager who you called just moments ago bows his head down, apologizing to you. “There was several problems with the housing situation and we are trying to sort it out. There are several movers who have this problem so please don’t worry about being the only ones!”

“That’s not that I’m concerned about here,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Y-Yes, of course. Please, we are still situating the problem and are doing the best we can. Please allow us a week and a half or so to solve the issue. We will report back to you both by then. We hope you understand,” the manager continues, keeping his head lowered.

You were about to reply when Toji presses a hand on your shoulder, intervening the conversation. “She understands. Thank you for your time,” he says, beginning to dismiss the two of you out before you could even utter anything.

“Hey! Don’t you think you’re being too calm with the situation?!” you stop and turn to him as he removes his hand away from your shoulder when you both step outside.

Toji shrugs, not returning a glance as he kept walking forward. “Don’t you think you’re being too dramatic over this? You heard them, they’re sorting it out. It’s just gonna be a week, sweetheart. If you got a problem, stay somewhere else until then.”

“What?!” your eyes follow him before your legs moved to catch up to his side. “First of all— don’t call me sweetheart. Second, of course I’m going to be pissed about this because I did not pay for this! Third, I have no where else to go and I can’t just crash at a friend’s with all of my things?!”

“Mistakes happen,” Toji says, now looking at you. “And well, if you have no where else to go— then deal with it, for a week. Sweetheart.”

Toji smiles before heading back to the apartment, leaving you even more infuriated. No matter what, you’re going to avoid this man until he finally gets moved somewhere else.

Or so you thought.

After your movers brought in your things, Toji made you pile your boxes into a corner for the time being— since there was no need to decorate the place at the moment. You figured and complied, not wanting to argue with this man.

For some reason, your mattress didn’t end up arriving with the rest of your belongings, so you had to sleep on your futon— beside of Toji’s. Of course, you wanted to sleep in the farthest corner away from him, but he insisted he wasn’t going to do anything.

Toji kept to himself, rarely trying to make some sort of conversation with you, but it wasn’t like you were complaining. He normally spent his attention on his phone, as if he was messaging someone or whatever. He’d randomly laugh or say something when it’d be quiet, catching you off guard.

You never said anything and plugged your earbuds into your ear, trying to avoid him at all cost. Closing your eyes, you just told yourself over and over again that this was only for a week or so. And then soon, you’ll never have to encounter him as much anymore.

As night fell, you suddenly felt the urge to eat. You had completely forgotten about grocery shopping and there wasn’t any open stores you could go to. You figured a quick stop at the convenience store would help, and decided to go there instead for something to eat.

You slip on your jacket and grab your wallet and phone. You hadn’t realize Toji was in the kitchen, doing something until you stepped in, watching as he was waiting for the pot of water to boil.

Toji noticed you from the corner of his eyes, and he turns, giving you a placid expression. “What?”

“Oh.. nothing. I’m just going to the convenience store since there’s no food for me here,” you reply to him before walking past him to the front door.

“Want me to come with?” Toji’s offer slightly appalls you and you turn back around to face him as you slip on your shoes. You’re uncertain, and Toji could notice that. “It’s late, wouldn’t want a young woman like you to get hurt, y’know.”

“It’s.. fine,” you say, with a little grin before turning back around, fondling with your keys. “Besides, you already seen occupied yourself.”

Toji didn’t respond for a moment, and when you were about to turn around again, he was suddenly behind you. Surprised, you nearly had a heart attack because how swift he was getting ready to accompany you out.

“Let’s go,” Toji says, already dressed in a jacket with shoes on. You give him a blank stare, but you didn’t say anything as you both exit the apartment.

Toji stood behind of you as you both walked to the nearest convenience store down the street. It was silent between the two of you— the only noise being distant cars, crickets chirping, and the soft sounds of your footsteps. Not only that, it was quite cooler in the night, which made you cuddle yourself beneath your jacket.

You didn’t once turn around to look at Toji, and even if you wanted to, you didn’t want to seem weird for just looking at him and not saying anything. He’d probably expected you to start a conversation or even inquire why you were randomly looking at him. You were overthinking at that moment, but for a fact, you were sort of glad Toji accompanied you.

The two of you arrived at the convenience store shortly enough and you went to grab a basket for your items. You figured Toji would do the same and go separate directions, but you quickly noticed that he was following you around instead.

You figured this could be a time to start a conversation. “Well. Is there anything you want? You can just put it in the basket and I can buy it for you,” you say, offering as a reward of gratitude since he had accompanied you.

“Nah. I’m fine,” Toji declines.

“Are you sure?” you repeat, and he nods his head, assuring you that he didn’t necessarily need anything to eat.

But even if Toji said he didn’t want anything, you decided to get him something. You found yourself getting a lot of food due to that and you felt slightly embarrassed, thinking that Toji probably thought you were odd for getting that much food for a night.

After paying the items and walking back to the apartment, you just couldn’t help but begin to feel curious about Toji— even after planning to deliberately avoid him the entire week or so. He was just an individual that you’ve never necessarily encountered before.

You didn’t know what made him stand out from other people, but there was definitely something about him. And so, you decide to start a conversation again.

“So. Toji,” you say, turning your head around since he was walking behind you again. His eyes raise to meet yours and he tilts his head. “Since we are going to be living with each other for a week.. shouldn’t we get to know each other.”

“Thought you hated me,” Toji smiles.

“What? No! I never said that! Yes, I was rude to you earlier but I was just upset at the housing situation since I didn’t expect it.. or even heard about it until today,” you sigh, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. “Well. Anyways. Let’s start with the basics— how old are you or whatever.”

“Hm,” Toji hums, eyes observing your face. “I’m 30”

“Oh, wow. You’re 8 years older than me,” you reply, nodding your head. Well, you honestly thought he was younger, but the age made sense due to his appearance. His built was great too. “I’m 22.”

“Fresh out of college, huh?”

“Yes.. technically. Almost been half a year since I graduated,” you nod your head. Okay, this conversation was going better than expected. “Did you go to university, Toji?”

“Nah. Waste of time and money. I left from home when I was 18,” Toji answers and your eyes slightly widen from the unexpected response. Well, you definitely didn’t think of that possibility at all.

“Oh..” you nod, wondering what to inquire next before it became silently awkward again.

“What did you study in college?” Toji then asked.

“I studied in business! It’s a common major but it’ll get me around. I found a good job during my third year of college and took an internship. And after graduating, they officially hired me,” you reply to his question, giving him a smile. Toji didn’t seem like a bad person at all.

“Young ones like you make me regret not going to college,” Toji chuckles softly as he was now walking next to you.

“Well, you can still go to college. There’s no age limit at all. You’re still young too, you know. I met some people in their late 40’s who are attending university,” you comment, hoping that would give him some consideration if he actually still wanted to attend.

Toji only gives you a glance before turning his head to look ahead. “I’ll think about it.”

The two of you finally arrived back at the apartment. You felt extremely relieved about the conversation you just had with Toji and figured you could actually end up being friends with him.

From that moment, the two of you detected another couple as you both approached the door leading to the apartment. They lived next door, the woman was patiently waiting for her partner to open the door as they spoke.

“Oh! This couple must be our new neighbors, dear!” the woman says and gently taps her husband’s shoulder, causing him to look in the direction of you and Toji.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you both,” you and Toji bow your heads. “And we’re not—“

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both! We heard we were getting new neighbors but I wasn’t sure when we would be able to properly meet,” the man quickly spoke before you could add that you and Toji weren’t a couple.

“Yes, yes. It’s nice to know that we aren’t the only couples living here— since this apartment complex is a single room and the rest are two person or above friendly,” the woman giggles. “Oh! How about we have a dinner tonight?!”

“Thank you but we—“ you start again, but Toji interrupts.

“I apologize, not tonight. We still have a lot of things to unpack. Maybe another night,” Toji says, placing a hand on your shoulder before pulling you close. “Plus, she’s very tired and we wouldn’t want to bother the two of you.”

“Oh dear, no, it’s fine! Another time then,” the woman nods with a reassuring smile.

“Well then, we can talk about dinner plans whenever,” her husband says before opening the door to their home.

After chatting a few more times and introducing each other with names, the woman gives you and Toji one last smile. “By the way, the walls here are very thin. Try not to get a noise complaint from the single person’s living around here!”

And then, she gives you two a wave before following her husband inside. You and Toji remain silent, processing what she meant, until it hit you.

You quickly went into the apartment without saying anything to Toji and he follows behind, closing the door as you placed the bag of food on the kitchen counter.

“Anyways. Let’s eat!” you say, turning to Toji who appears absolutely unaffected by what just happened. He gives you a look before you add on. “Oh, I bought enough food for the two of us, so you might as well eat some with me.”

There was a table in the small room you and Toji shared, so the two of you gathered there. You begin assembling the food across the table as Toji sat across from you.

“Oh, so that’s why you bought a lot,” Toji comments.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to just watch me eat everything if you’re hungry. That’d be rude,” you reply, placing a set of chopsticks ahead of him. “And besides, take it as a thank you for accompanying me to the convenience store.”

“If you insist,” Toji says with a smile as he lifts the chopsticks in his hands.

The two of you began eating, in silence once again. There really wasn’t much to inquire about, and even if there was, you don’t want to pry into Toji’s personal space too much.

And eventually, the quick dinner ended and the two of you cleaned up the table and threw any trash and store leftovers. You figured it was a good start to living with Toji for a week, and maybe there would be better options tomorrow.

While Toji was in the bathroom, you were sitting on your futon in the corner and had your back against the wall. You were scrolling through your phone, whether it be from messages to posts on social media, you were just bored and wasn’t feeling tired at all.

You changed into a shirt and sleeping shorts before wrapping a warm blanket around your body. You remained on your phone for a while, until you began hearing noises from the other side of the wall your back was against.

From what you could gather, it was the couple you and Toji met earlier. They seemed to be talking and moving around, muffled noises would follow after. You figured they must be rearranging something, since you recalled to the woman saying how thin the wall was.

You began hearing shuffling noises right by you, as if their bed was directly next to the wall on the other side. You blink several times, beginning to avoid what they were doing.

After several moments, you began hearing soft moans of the woman, which caught you off guard and flustered. The lewd noises were consistent, and she kept saying her husband’s name with such affection. They were fucking, literally, right by the other side of the wall.

You remain flustered, as you continued listening to them. You could’ve honestly just put in your earbuds and blast loud music to avoid listening further, but you couldn’t stop yourself. It was slowly turning you on.

The imagination of having your neighbors being able to hear you and someone fucking turned you on. You were completely lost in your thoughts as your breathing became heavier and you slipped one hand down between your thighs.

You pressed your ear against the wall, hearing the moans and grunts become louder by the minute. You bite your lower up, refraining from making any noise as you push your hands beneath your short and under your panties.

Your middle finger began rubbing circles against your clit, before gliding down your folds that were beginning to become soaked with your arousal. Fuck. This was a very risky situation, given the fact that Toji was still around and could leave the bathroom any moment.

But by then, you didn’t even think about him. You kept your attention on pleasuring yourself and the sex on the other side of the wall. Honestly, you wanted nothing more but to be fucked just like that. After you previous relationship, you hadn’t gotten with anyone and it’s been at least over a year.

You push two of your fingers into your dripping cunt, curling them up and moving them in and out. You started to let out low moans while biting down your lip, refraining them to be louder. Shit.. you’d never thought you could be turned on like this.

Pushing your thighs further apart, you sink your fingers deeper into your pussy, your arousal beginning to stick on your knuckles as you thrust them in and out. You take them out, rubbing your clit once again with your wet fingers before pushing them back in your hole.

Your neighbors continued to fuck, the woman’s moans bouncing off the walls and resonating your quiet room. But it all came to a stop when you heard the bathroom door opening, causing you to panic and quickly pull your hands away.

You were so close to being caught.

Toji walks into the room, towel over his shoulder as his eyes directed to you. He was slightly confused, noticing how flustered you were. “You okay there?” he questions.

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, realizing that the neighbor’s noises were still very much detectable.

Toji definitely heard them already, but he hadn’t address it yet. The room fell silent as the neighbors moans begin to become heard once again, and the awkwardness between you and Toji arose.

“They’re not too loud,” Toji finally comments with a sly grin.

“You think?” you raise a brow, keeping your eyes away from his. Your body was beginning to become hotter, mostly due to the embarrassment of almost being caught.

“Why are you so flustered?” Toji inquired as he starts walking closer to you.

“I’m not! I’m just— surprised!” you try to make some sort of excuse as you kept avoiding his gaze. Toji stood ahead of you before kneeling down to your level. You clear your throat, turning your head slightly and locking eyes with him.

Toji’s grin becomes wider. “You turned on or something?”

“Excuse me? I’m-“ you start but Toji was quick to hush you by leaning closer to your face, one of his hands pressing against the wall beside of your face.

“Come on. Listen to them. Aren’t you imagining and wishing it was happening to you instead?” Toji starts to tease you, his smile becoming more mischievous as your face grows even more timid.

“Please.. stop..” you turn your head away from him. It didn’t help that Toji was so close to you. It was true, you were still turned on, but you definitely didn’t want to admit it.

“Well, we’re going to be listening to them all night then,” Toji says, about to turn away when you grab his hand. He looks at you, quite surprised with your actions but he didn’t stop you. He only chuckles before leaning closer to your face again. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Can’t use words to admit that you’re turned on?”

You only shake your head, glancing at him several times and then at another direction. It was embarrassing, but Toji found it amusing.

“No need to be embarrassed,” Toji says, grasping his hand around your wrist and pulls you towards him. You were surprised but didn’t restrain as Toji presses you down on your futon. “Normally I’d get paid to do this. But you’ll be an exception.”

“People pay you to fuck them?”

“Some of the time. I follow the request of anyone in order to get money. It’s how I was able to get one of these apartments in the first place,” Toji snickers, laying beside of you and removing the blanket from your body. “So, you wanna do this, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes..” you nod, looking up at him.

Cute, Toji smiles before hovering his body over you. From the very moment you two met, he noticed how small you were compared to him. He’d imagine you being so afraid of him putting his cock in you, but he’d assure you that it would fit. Seeing how you were when it came to sex caused Toji to be slightly amused— since he never expected to get to this point with you.

“Ever slept with a man 5 plus years older than you before?” Toji inquires, slipping his hand between your thigh. He starts rubbing your inner thigh, close to your pelvic area, which makes you tremble.

“N-No.. not at all. My first time,” you reply, nearly squirming at Toji’s cold hands against your skin.

“Yeah?” Toji smiles, using his hands to slide off your shorts, and eventually your soaked panties. You felt embarrassed, trying to cover yourself up once Toji tosses the materials away. But he push your legs apart with his strength and aligns his body between them. “God, you’re so wet. Gonna fuck this pussy and make you scream even louder.”

“T-Toji..” you whine, covering your face with your hands.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you sweetheart,” Toji chuckles, noting how impatient you are.

Toji glides the tip of his middle finger against your wet entrance, making you squirm. He pushes two fingers into your pussy and presses his thumb against your clit. The feeling of his long and thick fingers thrust inside you made you reach an instant ecstasy you’ve never felt before.

Your moans started to drop from your mouth even more as Toji drives his finger deeper into your pussy, creating squelching noises. He smirks, rubbing circles against your clit with his thumb before he secretly inserts another finger.

“F-Fuck, Toji!” you gasp, feeling the third finger slip in. His fingers were so long and big. Comparing to yours, he’d be able to wrap your hands in his.

“I like how you say my name, princess,” Toji whispers, leaning in close to press a kiss on your forehead. “Come on, keep saying it.”

“Toji.. Toji..” you slowly chant through your moans as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you faster.

You’ve never had three fingers in you before, it was very much a new and different experience, but you fucking loved it. Toji curls his fingers, rubbing against your g-spot and making you reach closer to your orgasm.

His fingers kept pleasuring you in ways you’ve never thought you’d experience again, yet even better. Toji uses his other hand to hold your face, making you look at him as he fucks you with his fingers and making you moan his name out.

“Toji—“ you moan out, using one hand to grip his hand on your face. “Gonna c-cum..”

“Already?” Toji hums, maintaining the pace of his fingers pumping into your pussy. He slips one out, being able to thrust the two in and out faster. Your lewd noises start permeating the room, along with the wet noises of your pussy.

“Fuck, yes, Toji! I’m cu—“ you holler out, throwing your head back as you squirted immediately after. Your body trembles as you came all over your futon and fall back down against the ground.

“Not bad, sweetheart,” Toji comments as he slips his fingers out and into his mouth, getting the taste of you.

You don’t say anything besides watch him. You’re catching your breath, hands still slightly covering your flustered expression, until Toji reaches for his sweatpants. He was definitely hard now, from his way his cock was poking out.

“Damn. Never been this hard before,” Toji grunts as he pushes his pants down, his cock leaping up instantly. Your eyes observe in awe, and you give him a slight concerning expression.

“T-Toji.. it’s not gonna fit..” you say as Toji starts pumping his hard cock that was already leaking with pre-cum.

“I’ll make it fit.”

Toji gives you a smile before pressing the tip of his cock at your entrance. He moves his cock up and down against your folds, soaking the tip with your arousal and teasing your clit. Not only was he a bigger man, but his dick was too. You’ve only ever seen something like that in pornography, but being able to see it in person was appalling.

“Ready, princess?” Toji asks as he lifts his gaze to you.

You give him a nod and Toji instantly pushes his cock into you, making you squirm as you felt his dick stretch you out. “S-shit. So big, Toji..” you comment, both hands grabbing his biceps.

“Fuck- see that? Your pussy is already taking me so good,” Toji grunts before thrusting his entire length into you, earning more moans from your mouth. He starts moving his hips, using both hands to guide your legs further apart and starts thrusting faster.

The feeling of his big cock rubbing against the walls of your pussy was already driving you insane. Toji felt you clench him tightly as he thrusted, which makes him smirk, seeing how addicted you were already becoming to him.

Toji then pulls away and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, before pounding his cock right back into your dripping cunt. Your moans were escalating at that point, his name falling out of your mouth like a music note, and you both knew anyone around could hear how good he was fucking you.

“Toji- fuck yes, just like that!” you cry out, feeling the tip of his cock kiss your womb.

“Shit, princess. Everyone in this neighborhood is gonna know my name now,” Toji grunts again, thrusting his cock deeper into you before using a finger to rub your clit.

Your fingers curve against the skin of his biceps and your nails dig into his flesh, creating your nail marks on his skin as he pounded you. The sound of your moans and his grunts along with the wet slapping sounds began resonating the room, and your mind started becoming foggy.

Toji removes one of your hands from his biceps and presses it down on your lower stomach. “You feel that? You feel how deep I am inside of you?” Toji inquires, placing his hand over yours and you give him a nod.

“Yes- Toji. So fucking deep, keep going,” you beg, seeing water in your eyes due to the amount of pleasure this man was giving to you. “Want you to kiss me, Toji.”

Toji doesn’t hesitate and leans down, pressing his lips against yours while guiding both of your legs to wrap around his waist as he continues thrusting into you. One of your hands reach up to grasp his hair and tug him closer to you while your tongues start pressing against each others and your moans were falling into his mouth.

The welled tears finally began streaming down the sides of your face and Toji wipes them away while still kissing you. He pulls away, lifting you up with him. “Face the wall,” he commands and you listen, getting on your knees and pressing your hands against the wall when facing it.

Toji aligns himself behind of you, completely towering over you. He loved how small you were compared to him. He grabs the side of your hips, pushing them back against his before slamming his cock right back into you.

“O-Oh, fuckk,” you moan, feeling his dick penetrate you so deep and rubbing against your g-spot perfectly.

You clench around his cock again, making him groan as he starts thrusting. Your forehead presses against the cold sensation of the wall and you’re moaning even louder than before. Toji slides one hand beneath the shirt you’re still wearing and pushes your bra to the side to grope your breast.

“Such nice tits you have princess,” Toji mumbles in your ear before kissing your neck several times.

You’re crying again while uncontrollably moaning and screaming his name, begging for him to fuck you faster, rougher, and touch you more. His thick cock gliding against the walls of your pussy was making you reach your next orgasm and Toji could tell that you were close.

Toji’s hips slams against your ass to the point that you believed it would leave a mark later. He leans forward, using one hand to grab your neck and pull your head back. Your eyes meet his and you both share a quick kiss.

“‘m gonna cum again!” you cry out, eyes shutting as you were finally close to cumming.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” Toji murmurs, kissing the side of your face before returning his hand to the side of your hips. He rocks his hips faster, pounding so fucking deep into you that your body is railing against the wall.

“Toji—“ you moan out his name as you came all over him and your body nearly drops to the ground as you heavily breathe for air.

Toji grunts, feeling your cum all over him as he slips his cock out. He was still quite hard, due to not cumming and he too finds himself catching for air. You turn around, giving him a look to indicate that you weren’t done and it caught Toji by surprise.

Your mouth ended up finding its way to Toji’s cock and you began pumping him with your two hands. Toji groans, looking down at you as your tongue began swirling around the swollen tip of this throbbing dick. Imagining how your small mouth was going to take his cock was appealing to him, and he desperately wanted to shove himself down your throat.

Your mouth latches on the tip of his cock as you’re uncertain whether or not to take his entire length into your mouth, but you wanted to try. You start sucking and licking your tongue all around the tip, while pumping the rest of his length with your hand.

“F-Fuck,” Toji stammers as you look up into his eyes. “Gotta feel your entire mouth around me, princess.”

You begin pushing your face forward, making his cock sink deeper into your mouth until his tip smacked your throat. He was nearly halfway in your mouth, but you swore you couldn’t take him any further.

Toji groans as you start bobbing your head slowly, feeling his hand grasp your hair. His dick twitches inside your mouth, causing you to moan. You return one hand to pump his cock as your mouth moved up and down, your saliva covering his entire length.

“Your mouth’s so fucking good,” Toji compliments, watching your every movement. He’d never thought someone could take his cock so sensually. “Such a pretty girl.”

You squirm as you return your mouth around his tip, sucking and licking it before pushing your head back down. Toji grits his teeth, admiring how good you’re taking his cock and making him reach close to his orgasm.

“You’re gonna make me cum, princess,” Toji whines, the hand grasping your hair tightening as he gently rocks his hips.

Hearing that, you start moving and bobbing your head faster, sucking and licking his entire cock as wet and your lewd noises spilled from your mouth. You pump his cock several times again, enjoying the moans he was making.

Toji groans, pushing your head slightly for his cock to enter deeper into your mouth. You wince, surprised by this and shut your eyes as he initially begins guiding your head on his cock.

“Shit. I’m cumming now,” Toji says, throwing his head back slightly as he shoots his cum deep into your mouth and you moan, feeling the warm liquid hit your throat.

Toji could feel and watches as you swallow his cum, making a slight face afterwards to which he chuckles. You pull your head away from his cock, a small string of saliva connected from your tongue to the tip of his dick being seen before disconnecting. You were exhausted and nearly slumped over, but Toji caught you by placing his hands on your shoulders.

“You did good,” Toji says, lifting your face up with his hand before kissing you, to which you returned. The kiss was more passionate and gentle, and you couldn’t believe you were craving more from him.

But because of this, you both knew that there was no need for the other to move out.

—

The next morning, you woke up feeling numb and immediately recalled to the events of that night as your eyes opened to see that Toji was no longer beside of you. After cleaning up, you and Toji ended up sleeping on his futon, since yours was drenched in cum.

You sense blood rushing to your cheeks as the events start replaying in your head and your heart couldn’t stop racing. You were in Toji’s clothes instead of yours and you could whiff the distinct smell of his scent.

Pushing yourself up from the futon, you remove the covers from your body and walked towards the kitchen. When arriving by the entrance to the kitchen, you notice Toji standing by the door, his back facing you.

He was talking to someone, but the conversation was muffled, so you couldn’t detect anything they were saying. After a moment, Toji closes the door and turns around, eyes meeting yours instantly.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Toji says, holding a small piece of paper and appearing unaffected by whatever was written on it.

“What’s that? And who was that at the door?” you inquire, raising a brow as Toji approaches you.

“Seems like we got a noise complaint,” Toji snickers, showing you the paper he was given and allowed you to briefly glance over it before crumpling it up and tossing it to the side.

Toji snakes an arm around you, his hand cupping your ass and pulling you close. Your lips immediately crashed against his and you both share a sloppy kiss before pulling away.

“Guess we should be louder tonight then.”

LOAF4U. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

[tittyinfinity]

"You're so lucky that you can get paid to sit at home and do nothing" is something I hear from family members & people online.

Okay, let's say you're not disabled at all. No health issues. You've somehow tricked the system into believing you're disabled (not possible).

Would you still trade your job and salary to live off of $600-800 a month?

Would you give up your house, your car, your hobbies, the ability to buy gifts for yourself & others, and ALL of your savings, just for the "great benefit" of sitting in bed all day?

Do you really think it's that great?

Now, add health issues to all of that.

Not only are you stuck at home, but your body hurts every time you try to move, lights and sounds can send you into a meltdown, you can't even make it to the bathroom without nearly passing out the entire way there. You're always too fatigued, too dizzy, or in too much pain to do basic activities. You can't cook for yourself more than once or twice a month. Fast food is expensive. You can't keep your place clean or even get yourself to shower regularly. You can't afford your hobbies – even just buying a video game is 10% of your income for the entire month. You don't get to buy yourself (or your kid/s) nice things. After paying bills, you have almost nothing left for necessities and gas. Your car breaks down? It costs 50%-200% of your monthly paycheck. You want new clothes? You got the thrift shop, clearance section at walmart, or ordering cheap things from horrible places like Temu, Shein, or Wish. You want a place to live? You won't be able to afford to live alone until you get approved for housing assistance after waiting 5 or more years on a waiting list. And either way, bills are gonna be more than half of your monthly paycheck.

Does all of that sound like a privilege?

And do you REALLY believe anyone would try to fake a disability for that?

Get mad at the system that underpays you, not at disabled people who are paid well below a sub-minimum wage just to "sit around" and feel like shit all day

[bonny-kookoo]

Does someone older JK spoil the OC sometimes? Like surprise her with something which he considerd to be nothing it would mean so much to her?

Oh he does, ALL the time! Warnings for a bit of angst, beginnings of a panic attack but Kook handles it well

"...we can go there again, maybe before new year's if I can get a table on short notice." He simply says as he drives you both back to his place, radio playing quietly in the background.

You're still a little overwhelmed.

He does things like this a lot- expensive dinner dates in restaurants he either knows or wants to try out, randomly buying you clothes or jewelry he finds online and deems pretty, or he just changes things in his house to adjust it more towards you and your preferences. Like the pillows in his bedroom, the by now multiple pairs of thick socks for your cold feet, or the baking supplies he bought for you now stacking up in his kitchen.

It's things like that you're not used to. In the past, it has always been you who needed to adjust and do things for your partner- not the other way around. So now, you feel almost guilty whenever he does something- like a bank account draining, slowly going further and further into the negatives, red numbers piling up and making you anxious as to when he'll want it all payed back.

"Did you not like it?" He wonders, taking your silence as a sign of discomfort as he pulls up on the expressway. "You don't have to lie." He chuckles, reaching out to hold your hand.

"No, it's not that." You deny, letting him warm up your cold fingers. "It's just.. it was a little expensive, no?" You wonder, and he shrugs.

"Was it? To be honest, I don't think it was considering what we ate." He just brushes off. "I've been to steak restaurants that were a lot more expensive and half the quality. And the service was great too, so I didn't mind." Jungkook explains, and it's now that you realize once again that you and him live in quite different worlds. Or at least, used to.

For him, money isn't an issue. He's made and is making enough of it to live comfortably, he doesn't have to really worry about running out of it anytime soon, even if his company was to go bankrupt next week. And he's also got enough saved up, has invested with good tactics in mind, so it's really no wonder he doesn't see a problem in spending the amount that he does.

But you aren't used to that. You have been living paycheck to paycheck with barely anything left over at the end of the month, needing your bonus desperately as to not fall behind on any payments you have to make regularly. You've lost your apartment before, had to sleep at friend's places to get by, and even ate only at the company cafeteria to save money usually spent on groceries. All of this feels almost excessive, and you also worry.

What if Jungkook starts spending too much on you? He shouldn't fall into a habit of mindlessly throwing money out.

"What's on your mind, darling?" He wonders, lifting your hand to kiss the back of it, before he changes lanes.

"I just.." you fidget a little. Jungkook isn't a bad guy. He won't get mad. He won't scold you. You won't have to endure being lectured for the rest of the ride- you know all this, and yet again, the past haunts you and makes your breathing pick up as you begin to chew on your lip.

Suddenly, you realize he's pulling up to a gas station, parking on the side. He gets out to get something from the backseat, before he walks around the car to open the passenger door where you sit, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Here." he offers the bottle of water, having opened the cap for you. "Put your legs out like that- there we go. Breathe baby." He gently tells you, squatting down a bit to make himself look smaller. "Take your time."

You feel embarrassed. How do you explain to him that you were feeling like a kid about to confess a bad grade just now?

"We can keep it a one-in-a-month thing, maybe, if that makes you more comfortable." He proposes. "I didn't take into account that it might be overwhelming to you- I'm sorry." He apologizes, but you shake your head, looking down at your knees.

"I just.." You mumble, unsure how to really explain. "I feel.. back then, you know.." You sigh, having trouble finding the proper words. "Talking in the car makes me.. anxious." You admit. "Because you know, when you get mad.. I can't escape.." You say. "I can't get away from it."

Jungkook kindly takes the bottle away from you to put it on the backseat again, before he's back in front of you.

"Thanks for telling me. I had an idea it might be that, but I wasn't sure." Jungkook says, hands on your knees. "I promise you I'm not mad. And I'm in no position to be mad at you for having opinions or personal taste that might differs from mine. We're two different people-" He chuckles. "-of course we'll have different views on things."

"But I really liked the dinner too." You say. "I just.. I don't want you to start.. spending so much money on me to the point of, I don't know, losing sight of it." You confess. "And maybe, we should keep stuff like this a bit rare? So it doesn't become routine. I want to keep it special.." You say. "I'm not.. I don't really know much about this stuff, because I never had enough money to go to these fancy places, and get designer clothes, or plan vacations in different countries and all that. I feel.. stupid sometimes?" You spill, making him lean his head a bit to the side. "Like, what if you one day take me to a company gathering or something, and someone asks me something and I can't answer or I say something dumb-" You rant. "-or maybe you won't ever take me because I'm too young? Maybe Eve is right and I'm not really the kind of-"

"Baby, darling, stop-" He chuckles, pushing your shoulders back a bit to look at him. "-take a good breath. You're panicking." He worries a little, but tries hard to stay composed as to not make you spiral any further. "Eve is wrong. If you're okay with this, of course I'll take you to company events. Why wouldn't I show off such a beautiful women at my side? I'd never pass up a chance to make those stuck up geezers jealous." He jokes, making your crack up a little. "Let's keep the dinners to special occasions. Keep it special, like you said." He offers, holding your hands now. "And I'm also.. the fact that you worry about me makes me feel.. very special." he chuckles. "I appreciate you looking out for me."

"I always look out for you.." You mumble. "..I just don't want to overstep any lines. You know. Since you're older than me-"

"Just because I'm older doesn't automatically mean that I know everything better." He reassures you. "Our age gap has nothing to do with any sort of power balance. Please don't think you can't speak your mind just because I was born earlier than you."

"..okay." You nod, and he leans forward to peck your lips, before he closes the door for you after you pull your legs back in and buckle your seatbelt, him getting back into the driver's seat to do the same.

"You know.." he starts, as he pulls out of the gas station to continue the drive back home. "..I'm really falling in love with you." He chuckles, dimples of his cheeks showing with how hard he smiles.

"Huh?" You wonder, taken aback by the sudden confession.

"I mean it." He nods. "I really am."

"I'm glad then." You admit. "..cause I am too." You admit, making him grin before he reaches over to hold your hand again.

Knowing that he really won't ever let you go again.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Overtime overture - Richie Jerimovich x reader

Carmen Berzatto was a fucking dumbass. Okay, let’s rewind and put our customer service attitude on. Carmy was running this whole place by himself. That came with changes, wild cards. Syd’s stage was one. Your starting as a rookie part-time waitress was another. Everyone else knew their schedules by heart. And they had the common sense to remind your boss when they were supposed to end a shift. Not you though. That’s how you ended up working a few hours overtime in the biggest rush you’d ever seen. Alongside the man you had a massive work crush on.

So, how did you get there? You started your regular shift at 14, barely avoiding the lunch time rush. Still, the place was a bit more lively than usual. So Carmy did the logical thing. Forsake training you on a new station and gave you the work you were familiar with. Which was precisely the register with Richie. There was only 1 problem - you had no knowledge on how to enter the orders. So you did the rest while your coworker was busy. Between arranging plates, walking to tables and cleaning trays, you were too. Even in the quiet moments you tried to slip away, making drinks and getting the lobby more pristine. Yet there were still moments where you were too tired to even do anything except stand. Then Riche talked to you about college. You asked about his kid. Safe, work friendly topics. You cringed as you remembered how he had scolded you and Syd for talking about your exes last week, making you prepare for closing instead. That didn’t even top your most embarrassing moment. When Carm dismissed you with a ‘’bye bye, mai thai’’, you blurted out ’mai thai, that’s what got me to lose my virginity’ before thinking. Your boss barely registered what you said, while Richie doubled over in a hyena-like laughter. You were so done with everything that you didn’t even care until later. By the time you got home, you were so mortified that you considered just quitting tomorrow. Luckily no one made any references and you kept your paycheck. 

Little by little, the hours trickled by. It was finally 22, time for you to go home. You looked at Carmy, who glanced down at the schedule and continued giving orders to the kitchen. You waited a bit more, I mean a couple of minutes wouldn't kill you.  And it would help your already dwindling bank account. Plus, who even came to the restaurant this close to closing?Festival goers, that’s who. Apparently there was a big music event happening and the restaurant’s hours were different. And all of your coworkers but you knew about it. Which would make sense, since you weren’t working closing, they were. But little by little you were getting nearer to that. And there was no way in hell you were working a 12 hour shift, walking home and  then showing up again tomorrow. Yet, Richie was working so hard, already overwhelmed, even with your help. So you couldn’t just leave him to handle all these people and their orders. Seriously, they were in and out, as soon as you handed one takeaway bag, another person queued up. Richie could see you starting to struggle. You were slower, leaning more against the counter, he could even hear you swear in a foreign language. But before he could ask, there was another person with a bright sequined outfit asking for a sandwich. It was 12.30, and things were finally calming down. When the lobby was empty, you turned to your coworker and asked

‘’You think you can handle it on your own?’’.

‘’Yeah, why? Oh, you probably wanna go home. When does your shift end anyway?” 

“At ten.”

“Ten? That was more than two hours ago. Why did you stay?”

“You needed the extra pair of hands.”

‘’You’re a fucking angel. Let’s get you out of here. Cousin.’’ Richie yelled for Carm and there went your subtlety. Still, the man you had been helping the last few hours let you speak. Your boss apologized profusely, offering you everything. Then moments later got into a screaming match with Richie over the latter driving you home, instead of finishing his shift. Ah, the duality of men. You guessed guilt won over, because as soon as you were done changing, your crush was there, car keys in hand.

 ‘’Won’t you get in trouble? I mean, there might still be people and what if Carmy gets pissed.You can still go back and finish up.’’

‘’I’m not gonna let you walk 30 minutes in the dead of night. And before you say anything, I know you’ve done it before. When I’m on schedule you don’t have to anymore, it doesn't matter if you end at 20 or 3 in the morning.’’

Seeing him be so kind was a surprise, so you only managed a ‘’Thanks Richie’’ before heading to his car. By habit you went to the backseat and got scolded by a ‘’I’m not a chauffeur, you know.’’. So you quickly scrambled out and moved by him. Your mind flashed with the words suspended license as you fastened your seatbelt. But he was careful, very much so. You, on the other hand, were so bad at actually guiding him, that the Google Maps voice had to fill the awkward silence. When his car was in front of your building, you were relieved and basically ready for bed. 

‘’Thanks for everything, Richie, really.’’ 

‘’You’re welcome, angel.’’. You guess that the nickname was gonna stick, whether you liked it or not. Problem is that you did enjoy it, even a bit too much. Darling, sweetie, honey, your colleagues had cycled through all of those when they had trouble learning your name. Chef seemed to take priority over all of these. But now, every time Richie saw you he’d call you the new name. You’d expected it the day after, but even a week later he was still at it. 

‘’You’re my angel, you know that right?’’

‘’Don’t let the actual Angel hear you. You’ve helped me out so much since starting, it’s only fair.’’

As you were giving a coffee to a customer insisting they didn’t need a takeaway lid, the older man went to also make himself a latte. As if on cue, Carmy calls you both ‘’5 minutes, drinking break’’. Needing the fresh air, you also go out and the smell of strong cigarettes hits you. Knowing your need to fit in, he offers you one. Surprisingly you take it and lean into his lighter. He remembers teasing you about not being able to operate one, your cigarettes with foil, etc. All your inexperienced charm was cute. It scratched the part of his brain that watched hardcore porn, that did a double take when you wore pink dresses. Even if he cringed when you were too young to get his references, your expressions of concentration went straight to his cock. After a couple of shifts, his searches drifted from milf towards college girls. The flame illuminates your blush. Why do your lips wrapped around his ciggie make him as hard as a rock? It was wrong to get the hots for you like that. Maybe it was just a fucked up close proximity thing, like the romance books you cooed about. There was only one couch or whatever. Riche wasn’t blind, he could see the looks that Carmy and Sydney gave each other. Hell, even sometimes he swore your eyes lingered on him. The Bear had its allure, it was a crockpot for not only fights, but sexual tension. 

He must’ve zoned out way too much because you called ‘’Earth to Jerimovich, hello. Carmy is gonna have our collective ass.’’ Richie almost mutters something about having your ass before stopping himself. He just stubs his cigarette out and goes back to working the register with you. Thankfully the clients killed his stiffy before you could say HR violation.

 Richie kept his promise. Despite ending his shift a whole hour before you, he was there, waiting. At this point, there was no point for you to argue. You just accepted your new role as his passenger princess. But as you initially expected, something went wrong. He stops at your house. You wave goodbye and expect him to drive away, as usual. He doesn’t. More like he can’t. The car sputters but won’t start. His eyes drift to the fuel indicator and he sees it’s completely empty.

‘’Shit, Carmy sent me on that product run before you came in. Must have drained my tank.’’ he concludes, to fill the awkward silence.

 ‘’You could stay over. I mean, I’m not sure if it’s gonna be more comfortable, but at least then my roommates won’t call the police on you.’’ you say, half trying to appease the guilt in you and half because you wanted to spend more time with him. 

 ‘’Hey, my car isn’t that old that I look like a hobo. Right? Anyway, you don’t have to do that just because you feel bad for me’’. He hit the nail on the head, but you couldn’t let him know that.

‘’Richie, it’s fine. Tit for tat, you scratch my back, I scratch yours.’’

‘’It will turn cold as fuck, it’s fucking February.’’ he thinks out loud. ‘’Okay.’’ 

He’s stealthy, fitting his large frame into the disheveled college apartment you share with your housemates. You forget just how disheveled your room is. Richie’s eyes dart from the plushies on your bed to the alcohol bottles balancing your stacks of books. You bend over your bed to fix the covers, and he swears there’s a flashing neon sign above your ass saying ‘’Smack me’’. He turns his head and he sees it. A pack of condoms. Brand new, unopened, name brand condoms. In order to not explode on the spot, he asked ‘’So, can you hand me the extra pillow and a blanket or something.’’. Richie was happy with the floor, he really was. It would be the same as his car. Besides, one night of bad sleep wasn’t going to kill him. But then, you reminded him why he fucking called you his angel. 

‘’You can take the bed with me’’. He must’ve made a face, because you clarified ‘’God, not like that. Ummm I meant that it’s a big mattress. There’s enough space for two people to lay down without touching. Plus by the time you get comfortable, I will be dead asleep already.’’

You were wrong. In your own room, your own bed, you were wrong. You had shared it with friends, even a few lovers. But none of them had been as tall as Richie, as broad as him. No matter how any of you moved, there was no way to avoid skin to skin contact. You’re convinced your colleague was too tired of you cause he was fast asleep. Finally you just give up on trying to be comfortable, lay on your stomach and bury your face in the pillow.

 It must have been muscle memory. That was the only rational explanation as to why Richie wakes up in the middle of the night with his hands gripping your ass. He moves them immediately, ready to apologise, to move to the floor, to fucking leave Chicago. You don’t even stir, finally sleeping heavily. He fucking pops a bonner, like he’s 10 years younger than his actual age. Just as he turned away to tuck it into his pants, and you woke up. Thankfully you didn’t scream or kick him out. You just asked ‘’Need a hand?’’

You weren’t sure what came over you. You never thought you would be this bold. But again, there was no rational way to react to your crush touching himself while laying next to you. 

Richie is fucking extatick. But still gentle, having the subtlety you were lacking. The fingers that were on his cock traced over your lips, before he leaned in. His kiss was soft, but needy. Still he wasted no time in pulling you closer to him, rubbing himself against you. Holy shit, the man was hung like a horse. All the rumors about tall men having a third leg certainly were right in his case. You would let yourself be humped by Richie all night, your needy moans muffled by his kisses. He instinctively moves to kiss your neck, nipping at any bare skin he can reach. He thrust against you shallowly and groans.

‘’Tell me what you need, angel. If it’s more, I’ll give it to you. If you want me to stop, fuck I’ll stop. Just please fucking talk to me.’’ 

‘’More, don’t stop. Clothes off, please. Need to feel you.’’ You swear he had a second job as a stripper, because he shed his shirt and pants off in record speed. He’s toned. You let yourself admire his abs for a moment, even this getting to you. You needed to have him and you needed it now. Your hand gingerly place his hand against your pussy, a silent plea to touch you.

‘’You’re fucking drenched, angel. Do I make you this wet? Just from kissing, huh. Can’t wait to see just how sensitive you are. Would you like that?’’ He asked you, a grin on his mouth. 

You nod.

‘’Words, angel. Words, please.’’

‘’Yes Richie, please.’’

That was enough for him to start rubbing your clit, keep you begging and whining. He switches it up curling a finger inside of you and fucking swears. He toys with you, alternating between the two until you come. 

Only then does he get up and reaches for the box. You’re too blissed out to be mortified that he saw your contraceptives. You were too busy wondering how he was gonna use them. He opens the package and doesn’t take his eyes off you as he rolls the condom on his shaft.

Richie Jerimovich is a fucking traditionalist, literally. You were ready to tease him about the missionary, to ask if he could handle it. He took a pillow from next to you and placed it under your hips. No one had done that before, but before you can ask what’s going on he taps the head of his cock against your clit. The first thrust is shallow. But the second one is so deep inside you, that you can’t help but say

‘’Holy shit’’ 

‘’Language, angel’’ You have half a mind to flip him off, but then he moves again and all your thoughts are gone. You had never been this wet before. And he fucking started rubbing your clit in time with his thrust. You can’t help but fucking moan, and along with the sounds of the headboard hitting the wall, it’s a fucking cacaphony. Richie muffles your sounds with his hand.

‘’Let’s not have the whole building know my name, huh angel. After all, if you get a noise complaint now, I��ll have to stop.’’

You whine and that’s all he needs to keep going. Richie feels that you’re close, you were fucking clenching against him. His pace picks up, he’s chasing his own relief. He’s determined to make you come a second time, to show you he’s all about your pleasure. There’s also a little voice in his head, saying that if he orgasms before you, he’s too old for this. Spent, you groan out ‘’Cumming,please’’.

Were you begging for more or for permission, he wasn’t sure. Both options sounded fucking great to him, so he said ‘’That’s it, let go. Such a good fucking girl for me,angel’’.

Usually the girls he’d hook up just mixed in ‘’yes’’ and ‘’fuck’’ when they orgasmed. You fucking managed to say ‘’Richie Jerimovich, you’re a fucking god’’. That’s all he needs to follow suit and come. He rolls off of you, panting and sweaty, ready to throw the used condom in your thrash. You, in all your fucked out naked glory, manage to dart to the bathroom, grab the toilet roll. After he wipes, you return, aiming to avoid a UTI. When you’re back, he’s waiting with his fucking arms draped against your spot, clearly wanting a cuddle. In his arms, you finally managed to get some good sleep. 

Morning comes. Richie stays, because of course he does. It turns out both of you don’t really do this. So it’s a very long and awkward silence before one of you suggests breakfast. While you’re eating, he somehow manages to get himself a free toll from a friend of a friend who owes him. Finally, you manage to say only a portion of what you want, namely

‘’Richie, ummm can we do this again. I think after last night I’ll have to go to the walk in every time you brush past me.’’

‘’Of course, angel. I’m not nearly done with you.’’

You choke on your food, having the feeling that it’s not gonna be the only thing you’d be choking on in the future. God bless Carmen Berzatto and his inability to remember your schedule. 

[fastcardotmp3]

future!steddie; long haul trucker Eddie; firefighter Steve ~1k words

It makes sense to Eddie, an obvious out when his world's gone to shit and he has to get away, that his escape route from Indiana is the same job his uncle left to settle down there and raise a kid with nowhere else to go.

Driving long haul means there's no one looking that close at a face that made it to the national news during his week on the run. It means living on the move, never stopping long enough to get stuck anywhere.

It means freedom.

It means loneliness.

He calls Wayne twice a week, coins in pay phones at rest stops while he's waiting for his hair to dry post-public shower, and that's enough for him.

Wayne has always been enough for him, and it would be hurtful to suggest otherwise; it would be disrespectful to the life Wayne helped him build, keeps helping him build with all that faith that had him never doubting an innocence questioned by everyone else in that God-forsaken town.

Twice a week. It's the only phone number he knows by heart.

Twice a week for weeks and then months and then years, driving cross-country and back again, it's freedom. He keeps telling himself it's freedom, that it's good, that he doesn't need anything more than that.

But driving long haul means there's a lot of time for thinking.

It means a lot of time for collecting thoughts up together and creating new meaning entirely.

It means that by the time he's twenty-one and twenty-five and thirty that he has tape after tape after tape where he's collected those thoughts aloud in the rumbling loud silence of an overnight drive.

Thoughts like who would I be if I'd stuck around? and thoughts like will they understand that this time running saved my life? and thoughts like I miss them, am I allowed to miss them, am I allowed to love them without ever really knowing them?

It means that when he stops for all but the first time in ten years, coming home to Wayne to find that Forest Hills is home to a couple more familiar faces than he expected, there's space for his words. His endless, looping thoughts.

Steve's got his own trailer these days, brings in Wayne's mail for him on the mornings he comes home from the night shift at the fire station and stays for coffee.

Steve's there across the way when Eddie drives up in a new-used flatbed truck he'd bought with his final paycheck on the day he hung up his hat and decided he'd been gone long enough.

Steve's there in stories Wayne only begins telling now that Eddie is home, endless retellings of a brand-new man who became a friend during a time when the name Munson was still a dangerous thing to carry.

Steve's there when Eddie starts transcribing all his dictated notes into something resembling narrative and character and prose and Eddie doesn't know the guy who jumped headfirst into another dimension, hasn't spoken to him since that week that forced Eddie to flee in the first place, but maybe he doesn't need to have those years under his belt.

Maybe it doesn't matter if Eddie knows a nineteen-year-old Steve Harrington, because he knows the twenty-nine-year-old one starting a matter of hours after he comes crawling back home, knows this grown and steady one who looked after Wayne when Eddie had to leave.

This Steve isn't stuck despite still living in the town that tried to kill him. He doesn't seem lost or without purpose.

He lives a simple life, working at the Hawkins FD and feeding stray dogs with the bowls he leaves out beside his porch. Robin comes and goes, seemingly dating her way through the Midwest's entire sapphic population and sleeping on Steve's couch in between live-in girlfriends.

There are old friends on the phone at near constant intervals in Steve's home, and there's that phone being pressed to Eddie's ear without giving him the chance to be terrified about what Erica or Dustin or Max might say to the guy who hasn't allowed anyone but Wayne access to him for a decade, what he might say back after so many years without proper human socialization.

Eddie has been moving for so long, stayed moving through the bulk of his acceptance of everything that happened to him, but there's a different sort of quiet here than what he found on the road, stillness, amongst the casual chaos.

There's similarities to life on his rig, sure, a certain routine to the comings and goings, only Eddie isn't hiding anymore and he's not thumbing through the same staticky stations anymore and he's not lonely anymore.

He doesn't know how to sit still yet, not really, but he stays up all night handwriting poetry on paper he once spoke onto tape on the porch of his uncle's trailer and sometimes when Steve gets home after dark, he'll sit with him.

He'll eat his dinner still in uniform and listen to the scratch of Eddie's pen and Eddie doesn't know him, Steve Harrington, but he's getting to know his neighbor Steve.

Ten years down the line and he's becoming solid right there in front of Eddie's eyes, becoming real, becoming something that can't possibly fit onto the tapes filled with nonsense and insights alike.

"You're never what I think you're going to be," Eddie admits to him one morning over coffee before Wayne or Robin have risen, before the phone has begun to ring, before the world wakes up and brings Eddie's life along with it, ready or not.

Steve smiles at him, amused and curious and cocky in the way he responds, "you're exactly who Wayne said you are."

It's an admission all its own, that Steve has thought about Eddie, spoken about him, in the time they've spent apart, even if it was only because he'd dared to keep Wayne Munson's company.

It's still an admission though, that in his absence, in his loneliness out on the road, Eddie wasn't forgotten by the watercolor skies over Hawkins, Indiana.

"Yeah?" Eddie breathes in those very skies, "and what did Wayne say I'd be?"

Ten years down the line and suddenly it makes sense to Eddie.

It makes sense in the morning dew on the lawn; it makes sense in the too-strong Harrington-brewed coffee; it makes sense in the wheels of his truck on a road that does end, eventually, and it makes sense in the collected thoughts and feelings, fears and dreams that he had to go away to decipher.

The freedom was in leaving, sure, but this? The coming home to Wayne and this porch and the man who lives across the way?

"Stick around, Munson," Steve Harrington dares on a morning like any other, "and maybe I'll just tell you."

Well. As it turns out, this might be the thing that saves him.

[vampucci]

Mutual Aid for Teen with Covid

Latasha is a teenager I know in STL who just got covid-19 and was in the ER last Thursday with acute respiratory distress, as she’s got severe asthma. She just got out of homelessness. Her new manager tried to withhold her last paycheck and has severely cut her hours. Her paydate is unreliable because of that. She can’t do anything but rest and keep up with schoolwork right now, and having covid is expensive when your medicare doesn’t cover the full price of Albuterol and you live far away from medical services.

There are some things I’ve been doing to try to raise money for her, but it’s going to take a bit longer than I had hoped. I’m posting about donations now because any amount of money goes a long way. Sometimes $15 is the difference between being able to get a ride home/to the next bus stop and having to walk 4-5 hours home. Or sometimes $10 means we can get the rest. It might mean hygiene goods she needs. Et cetera.

That’s (at) latashasmith63112

To be safe we would just need:

$45 for the next Albuterol refill

$10 for an antigen test

$78 for her bus pass (this expires on the 30th)

Sharing this or contributing anything at all towards those will help tremendously. Also, for what it’s worth, I have a friend in the area who’s seen her, I’ve talked to her on the phone weekly, I’ve helped her manage her finances and apply for government services, and I’ve sent her a care package that she picked up. She’s a real kid.

If you do donate let me know and I can put you on the list for a sketch commission—look for my art tag in my description—I’m disabled so I suck at getting them done in a timely fashion, but I will absolutely get them done eventually. Thanks.

[activesplooger]

Vox x Mom!Reader | Had this idea, heres a prompt I was thinking of:

———————————————————————

You had worked for Vox for years, yet you two knew very little of eachother. He had always thought you were more of an attractive employee, but that was the extent of his personal feelings for you.

One day, you came into work with your 4 year old daughter, Amelie. You apologize profusely for having to bring her in and how unprofessional it was. Vox wasn’t a huge fan of kids, however, he didn’t mind too much since you were a good worker and you had promised she wouldn’t leave your side.

Amelie ends up escaping your cubicle unbeknownst to you and stumbles upon Vox’s office. Amelie bothers Vox for a bit and begs him to let her watch cartoons on one of the various moniters he has in his office. Amelie, being a child, rambles about her home life and mother even thought she probably shouldn’t have and certainly said wayy to much. “Do you have dad? I dont.” “My momma is so funny she always worry!” “Why does momma always work so late here?”. Vox pries a bit and finds out about your personal life.

He knew Amelies deadbeat dad wasn’t in the picture, and wasnt paying child support. And well, his workers wages werent great, even if you worked hard and worked overtime. Suddenly, he has an idea.

He invites you out (which shocks you) and cuts right to the chase. He explains his situation, which essentially is just that hes touch starved. He makes an offer, he’ll help you out financially if you have “sessions” with him as he pleases.

This offends you, of course, did he think you were some kind of whore?! You were about to tell him off until he offers you 5k per session. Fuck. You didnt want to do this… But it could help you a ton. You were living paycheck to paycheck and struggling to support you and your child. You reluctantly agree, but set some boundries like no one can find out. Hes definitely fine with that one, hes not too fond of other people knowing.

The first couple sessions are purely transactional, and seeing Amelie light up at the new things you could finally afford made it all worth it. However, as time goes on, the sessions get more passionate and loving. You two start to actually care about eachother and even move in together. For “convience” is the excuse you two came up with.

Amelie pretty much adopts Vox as her new dad, despite him bluntly telling her hes not every time. One night, you get caught up in something (idk) and cant make it home for a session, nor can you take care of Amelie. Begging Vox to babysit her, he finally agrees.

You come home and find Amelie in Vox asleep on the couch, Amelie clutching onto his arm and snoring softly. He had a storybook in his limp hand slumped against Amelies small figure.

Time passes and you three become a little family. A tad dysfunctional but… still, family.

—-

rushed i just had a thought lol. do ygs fuck w this? lol i thought itd be a cute lil prompt :)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Can we have T-Dolls/Gryphin staff (Angelia + Kalina) getting a message from the medical bay about their S/O getting injured when test firing a new gun?

It was the recoil. It’s on par with a Nikke’s weapon. They got ragdolled across the firing range.

(GFL/NIKKE) M16A1, M4 SOPMOD II, Angelia, Kalina, Rapi, Anis, and Neon's S/O getting injured by recoil

M16A1 winces at the message received and gives a wry chuckle.

(M16A1) "Oh man, that's gotta hurt..."

It's a good thing they never tried the gun she usually carried in her case, she was pretty sure that would tear a human in half. Not even most T-Dolls could withstand the recoil on that bad boy.

Regardless, she makes her way to the medbay with a lighthearted smile.

(M16A1) "Yo, heard you got knocked on your ass."

(S/O) "Agh, yeah something like that."

(M16A1) "Was the gun at least functional?"

(S/O) "I mean, I guess I did obliterate the training dummy."

(M16A1) "Then good job! You further advanced science, or something like that."

(S/O) "Did you come here just to tease me, Sixteen?"

M16A1 just smiled at that.

SOPMOD immediately hops off the chair was sitting in and rushes towards the medbay.

(M4 SOPMOD II) "OH NO! S/O was using my guns, weren't they!?"

Those weren't even sanctioned by Griffin, mostly being her own personal test weapons!

A T-Doll couldn't handle them, let alone a human!

SOPMOD opens the door and breathes easy, seeing them thankfully alive.

(M4 SOPMOD II) "S/O! Why did you use my guns- No, wait! Did they work, were they cool?!"

(S/O) "Ack, that was yours?! How do you even lug that around?!"

(M4 SOPMOD II) "I carry it in a REALLY big bag! But how did you even get access to it?"

(S/O) "It was thrown alongside the experimental weapons the Commander wanted tested! Did you mix that pile up with yours?"

(M4 SOPMOD II) "...Oops."

Angelia sighs upon receiving the message on her phone.

(Angelia) "Well, can't say I'm exactly surprised."

She goes to personally see S/O in the medbay, with her leaning against the wall as soon as she entered.

(Angelia) "Told you so."

(S/O) "Ow...! Yeah yeah, you were right, I was going to get hurt."

(Angelia) "Did you at least brace the way I told you to?"

(S/O) "Hah, tried to. Kind of hard to do that when you're flying in the air."

With a little hum of acknowledgement, she turns around and waves a hand.

(Angelia) "Well, you'll live. Just see me when they let you out."

Kalina can't help but cringe at the news, fingers fidgeting as a slight feeling of guilt washed over her.

It was her idea to go test out the new weapons, so she couldn't help but feel partially responsible.

(Kalina) "Oooh, crap!"

She pokes her head through the medbay door to see a cast over S/O's arm.

(Kalina) "Ouch! How bad is it?"

(S/O) "Just 2 weeks, nothing that broken, just one hell of a bruise...And uh, muscles pulled. Maybe more than a few."

(Kalina) "Sorry, I should've warned you that those weapon tests aren't really kind to us humans!"

(S/O) "Psh, no kidding! Well, we got the results at least but I can't say I'm exactly entirely pleased about it...You're not making me foot the medical bill out my paycheck, are you?"

(Kalina) "C-Come on, would I really do that?"

(S/O) "..."

(Kalina) "Hey, don't go all silent on me!"

Rapi is of course concerned, but she isn't exactly surprised.

A NIKKE's weapon was extremely powerful, and ordinarily humans shouldn't even be going near them.

But S/O volunteered for weapons testing for the Commander, which led to her sitting next to them in the medbay.

(S/O) "G-Guess I underestimated how easy you guys make it look..."

(Rapi) "We were designed to handle the weapons, S/O. I'm just thankful you aren't hurt more than you are."

(S/O) "That'll teach me to try and help you all fight, hah..."

Rapi squeezes their hand gently, making sure not to hurt S/O further.

(Rapi) "You don't need to do something so dangerous to let me know how you feel, S/O."

Anis can't help but snicker, at least a little.

I mean, S/O was going to fire a NIKKE weapon, what were they honestly expecting? To take the recoil like a human gun?

She brings some soda for S/O as she plops down on their bed, flashing a cheeky grin.

(Anis) "Soooo, how'd it go?"

(S/O) "You tell me! How do you even fire your launcher without it forcing your entire body back?!"

(Anis) "Psh, what you were handling is a pea shooter compared to mine! You're lucky your arms didn't go flying off!"

Patting their leg she tried to brighten their mood, which thankfully was working.

(Anis) "Next time, leave the weapons testing to Neon? She may be smaller than you, but she can actually take a hit."

Neon immediately begins panicking at the message.

S/O was test firing her guns?! They were probably in 400 pieces in the medbay right now!

(Neon) "S/O, ARE YOU ALIVE?!"

(S/O) "Somehow...-"

Neon goes in to hug S/O, making them wince in pain.

(S/O) "Ow! Neon!-"

(Neon) "Whoops, s-sorry! Master told me that you were trying to test my weapons! That kind of firepower isn't meant for you to handle!"

(S/O) "I can at least see why you like it so much, the destructive power is insane, and that's just the kickback!"

Neon puffed her chest out a little in pride at their comment.

(Neon) "Well of course! Anything less than that would be an insult to the art!"

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

It’s crazy how SAG AFTRA (A union that is supposed to be looking out for actors) is going out of their way to make it damn near impossible to make a living as an actor.

Funny how the strikes have ended but nothing seems to have changed. Shows are still getting cancelled, studios are still hellbent on shoving AI down the general public’s throats, and anybody who isn’t an A-Lister is struggling to make ends meet.

I gotta ask, what was the point of striking for six months straight if everything was just gonna go back to square one?

The biggest issue I have with the current state of SAG AFTRA is that it feels less like a union and more like a spoiled rich kids country club. Where those who are on top will do everything they can to fuck everyone else over.

Pretty sure Fran Drescher and her cronies don’t even know how many members the union actually has. They most likely believe that they only rep the big names and nobody else.

This isn’t anything new, as the concept of voice acting has always been looked down on in America. It was always seen as that thing that quote and quote “Nobodies” did or an easy paycheck for A-Listers who needed extra cash.

So I’m not really surprised that SAG AFTRA decided to fuck over voice actors. But it is infuriating none the less.

I’ve spoken to plenty of people who moved to LA to pursue a career in voice over. And it really fucking sucks knowing that their careers will never be given the opportunity to grow thanks to this AI shit.

Not everyone can pull a Matt Mercer and have a side project like Critical Role turn into a massive brand.

Hell, a lot of voice actors I’ve talked to have to rely on cons and Twitch streams to keep a roof over their heads because they aren’t making enough to get by.

I’ll always be pro unions, but fuck SAG AFTRA.

[archangeldyke-all]

i think i’ll die if we don’t get pt. 2 of sev and her trans identity, it was so good, i let out a breathe of contentment. thank you so much 💗💗💗

omg i'm so glad u liked it! i got another request for more of ceo sev, so i'm gonna combine these two :)

request for ceo Sevika & reader during their first meet/interviewing process pls 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

men and minors dni

sevika's loving being ceo.

nobody dares to give her even an inkling of shit at work anymore, and she thinks it's kinda funny watching people who were once so vile to her cower in fear when they deliver reports to her office.

she's good at her job, if a little scary when pissed. since she's started as ceo, the company's seen better numbers than ever before, all thanks to the changes she implemented the moment she took over.

the pay raise has been great too. with so much more disposable income, sevika's started to treat herself more and more frequently to pretty things and fun experiences.

most of her wardrobe is designer, custom tailored to her measurements. she's got several nice pieces of jewelry, gold chains and watches that all cost more than her yearly paycheck when she was working as a busser as a kid.

she's gotten herself two new cars, and moved herself into a penthouse apartment high above the twinkling lights of the city below.

she's been getting weekly massages and facials, and she's started getting her toes and nails done too-- nothing fancy, just a clear coat on top of perfectly manicured nails.

all in all, sevika's living her best life.

but there's one problem.

(two, if you ask her when she's drunk enough.)

the main problem is that she still can't find a good assistant. it's been a year and a half of her new position, and she's already gone through six assistants.

(the other problem, which she holds much closer to her heart, is that she's got a giant, luxurious bed at home, and nobody to cuddle her in it.)

her first assistant was... fine. he wasn't anything special, but he did his job well enough that sevika was willing to keep him around. he quit after four months, though, apparently 'tired of the office environment.'

the next three assistants all came and went within a week. the first was fired when sevika caught them snorting a line of cocaine off of her desk. the second quit after her she spilled an entire pot of coffee on herself. and the third made a sly remark under her breath that sevika hadn't been meant to hear, but heard anyways.

she found a reliable assistant in an ambitious young man, but he left after six months to return to university to get his graduate degree. he recommended his cousin take over the position, and sevika took him up on it.

his cousin was a nice young woman who held out for a few months with sevika, and made her coffee just like she liked it. but when her boyfriend proposed and asked her to move cross-country with him for his job, she said yes, and left sevika high and dry once again.

so now she's back to interviews. she fucking hates interviews.

she groans as she struts to her office door trying to give herself a pep-talk as she swings her glass door open and looks toward the reception desk for her next interview.

she chokes on her tongue when she sees you sitting in a chair, fiddling with the corner of your resume as you wait.

you're... beautiful. everything about you. sevika takes a moment to gawk at you before you notice her. you're like a walking wet dream just fucking... appeared in her waiting room. sevika's not sure if she's going to be able to get through this interview.

she calls your name off her clipboard, trying to ignore how much she likes the word in her mouth, and she loses her breath completely when your eyes snap up from your resume and you smile at her.

oh fuck. please let her be an asshole. sevika thinks, unwilling to believe someone as seemingly perfect as you could exist.

you're actually the farthest thing from an asshole in the world.

you're charming and giggly and you've got really great questions for sevika, like how she likes her coffee and what time she normally eats lunch.

you're under-qualified for the job, and when sevika points this out you cringe and shrug, scratching the back of your neck endearingly.

"i've never been a personal assistant before-- but i'm an incredibly fast learner, and if i can be honest, for this much money? i'd give a limb to keep you happy." you say, chuckling. sevika gulps, and bites her tongue to keep from saying some of the suggestions swirling in her mind of other ways you could keep her happy.

"well, a limb won't be necessary, but i should warn you. i've been told i can be a bit... cold. i'm no good with words, and i don't talk if i don't need to. it's nothing personal." she says. you smirk and tilt your head at her.

"you?" you ask, your eyes dancing up and down sevika's form in a way that makes her feel... tingly. "yeah, i guess i could see that." you say, giggling. sevika furrows her brow as she studies you.

"what's that supposed to mean?" she asks. something inside of her bubbles up, defensive and ready to kick you out of her office the second you say something wrong. she's been working on her defensive anger with her new therapist, well aware that it's just a way of protecting herself from potential disappointment, but she can't help it right now. because she'd be so fucking disappointed if you-- pretty, charming, slightly ditzy you-- were suddenly an asshole out of nowhere.

you just giggle and shrug. "you're so pretty it's hard to tell at first glance, but now that we're talking i can see that grumpiness creeping through." you say, smiling.

are you... teasing her?

and did you just call her pretty?

sevika blinks at you, the swirl of anger in her stomach fizzling out and leaving her vulnerable. she bites her lip, shakes her head, and reminds herself that this is a job interview. not a first date. she shouldn't be feeling all soft and giddy and excited right now.

she clears her throat and looks through her notes. you've answered all her questions, you've given the right answers for them all too. there's nothing left for her to do but just give in and hire you-- you're clearly perfect for the job.

she needs to find something wrong with you before she fucking... falls in love with you right here and now.

sevika takes a deep breath, then starts her interrogation.

"this job... it's not nine to five. that's what everyone else in the office works, but you'll be here when i get in to when i leave. some days, you'll be here before sunrise 'til after sunset." she says. you nod.

"that's fine with me." you say. sevika huffs.

"and you should know... i'm gay." she says, cringing the second the words leave her mouth. she never talks about this in interviews, but she's just hoping that you react poorly so she can write you off. you just blink at her.

"o-okay?" you ask. "are you asking me out or something?" you say, giggling. this catches her off guard, and sevika's jaw drops.

"what?" she asks. you shrug.

"i mean... i'd be into it, but i'd kinda like to know if i got the job before you take me to dinner." you say, laughing. sevika snorts, a smile pulling at her lips, and she pinches herself to keep from leaping across the table and kissing you.

"i'm trans too." she blurts. you blink at her again.

"...okay." you say, a little confused. "if you want... i could put reminders in your daily schedule for your hormones?" you ask, trying to figure out how the revelation ties to the job interview.

sevika just blinks at you, shocked and a little pissed off that the woman of her dreams has appeared in her life, only to become her assistant rather than her girlfriend.

sevika grunts, rubs her face, then sighs as she looks at you. you look concerned.

"did i do something wrong?" you ask, nervous. sevika sighs.

"no. you're perfect. i'm just... where the fuck have you been this whole time?" she asks, a little hysterical. you break out into a bright smile, and sevika's heart does a backflip.

"so...?"

"can you start tomorrow?"

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

New to town

Prologue | Part 1

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary- the darkest days of your life could lead to something new. Prologue for a series

Warnings- death, breakups, plane crashes, lonely reader

A/n - hii!!! :3 I'm so srry for not writing anything in like 4 months I swear I'm gonna get back into the habit of it as soon as <33

You always hated being new. Since your were a little kid your parents would move up and down the country at least twice a year which in turn caused you to never have any kind of concrete friendships and to eventually stop trying to make them. When you'd turned eighteen and moved out and were sure you'd stay where you'd picked to be forever.

City living however didn't agree with you one bit. The tiny flat, that could barely fit a fanily if mice, you resided in, cost about an arm a month despite the electrics barely working and the terrible drafts keeping you cold all night. When you'd arrived you were sure you'd make it your own and decorate to make it look less depressing but you mever had the time. You were sure you'd adjust to the noisy neighbours next door and whatever your upstairs neighbours were doing at four in the morning. That hope and optimism for the bleak city had since left and now you lay in the cramped flat at night trying to get comfy on your cheap second hand mattress which creaked awfully whenever you moved as you tried to drown out next doors noise.

Outside tour flat was no better either. You'd struggled to make a single meaningful connection since being here and now some people could say it was the fact you didn't really know how to keep things going in relationships since you'd never had to have a friend longer than six months but you wanted to believe it was the people in the city. Yeah, that sounds better, people from the city were just that bit less extroverted and already had their own groups.

The meaningless office job you worked only made things worse. 45 hours a week slogging away for a meager paycheck and little recognition for any of your time. You'd been there a handful of years since moving into the city and still coworkers regularly got your name wrong or forgot about you completely. Your boss clearly didn't like you, not that he had it out for you by any means but you always had an unfair workload compared to others at the company.

At night you'd lie awake listening to the sounds of the city wondering how many more months you could make it in this bleak existence before an improvement came. How much longer could you hang onto the wagon of life. You weren't much of a betting man but if you were you would of said you'd only make it couple of months.

That's when things took a much worse turn.

The next week your boyfriend of eight months broke up with you over text. You'd known things were over for a while since he'd stopped coming over so much and being going around town with this other girl you'd never cared for. Infact you were more upset about the loss of a warm body, the comfort and stability of a relationship than you were losing him. He wasn't a bad man just.. immature, shown clearly by his breakup message he couldn't even be bothered to call or try to be grammatically correct in his small message. He'd never treated you bad but he wasn't great either, he'd cancel dates to go out with friends, spend the night at yours when there was sports on just because he knew you had the TV channels. You could do better than him. You knew that.

Still, you were desperate to persevere throught these tough times. Yeah it looked poor now but good things were sure to happen when you least expect it... or not.

A few weeks after your breakup as you lay across the old leather couch that took up most the living room space in your apartment. As you meagerly picked at your dinner. That was when it happened.

Your phone ringing suddenly was confusing enough, you hardly had any contacts other than your parents and well they were on a flight to Barbados so definitely couldn't be ringing at this hour. You check the phone and the illuminating letters read out no caller id. Assuming it could be important you decided to answer it, slowly putting the phone to your ear.

"Hello?.."

"Is this y/n/l/n?" A middle aged woman asks, her voice sounded glum and her signal not so good.

"Yeah. Yes, yeah it is. Why?" You responded with a string of awkward yeses mentally facepalming yourself for the stupid response.

"I'm speaking on behalf of United Airlines and we regret to inform you but your parents plane has crashed. They.. they..." Her voice faltered slightly or perhaps the signal cut but you knew what was coming as you felt you could throw up at any moment. A cold sweat plaguing you. "They didn't survive. Sorry." There it was; the news that would change your life. Both of them gone in one swoop. Even if you hadn't been talking so much with your family since your big move you certainly weren't ready for something as catastrophic as this to happen.

[dannys-dream]

Invisible String - Jake Kiszka x f! Reader - Chaper One - Series

You’re just a small town girl who always had big dreams of living in Nashville. You hoped your music would get you out of your hometown, and your dreams were finally coming true. You knew you had your best friend, your music, and a new guitar to take you through the new life ahead of you. What you didn’t know was what and who this new adventure would bring you. Used to beach town life, could you adjust to the big city and the big names attached to it? 

Warnings : None this chapter :)

Authors Note : This is something I’ve had in the works for a little while now. I hope you enjoy this series. Please let me know if you have any suggestions, or if you’d like to be added to a tag list! <3

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・

You couldn’t believe it was actually happening. After years of coffee shop shows, bar performances, and the occasional birthday party or wedding, you were finally moving to Nashville. A dream since you were just a kid, stuck in a small beach town tucked away in the outskirts of Washington. You’d saved every penny from your gigs, giving guitar lessons to the neighborhood kids, and everything you could spare from your 9-5 paychecks. You checked your bank account religiously, waiting for the day you’d finally saved enough. All you needed was a few months rent, and the money to put gas in the U-Haul, yours and Cam’s home for the 36 hour drive. 

Cam had been your best friend since middle school. An absolute force to be reckoned with at your dodgy little public schools. You trusted her with your life, and believe me when I say there were plenty of times you’d gotten in enough trouble to prove you could. The day you told her you’d started saving to move, she started saving too. She told you that you'd have a piece of home with you down in the south, and she couldn’t bear the idea of not seeing you all the time. You thanked God every day since. You couldn’t imagine not living side by side with her either. So the two of you packed everything you owned into a little U-Haul, and drove away from the only place you’d ever known. Away from your families and friends who all waved and cheered you on as you pulled out of the driveway. 

“I can’t stop laughing, oh my god y/n. I can’t breathe. Why were they waving us off like it’s the ancient times and we’re setting sail on the Titanic or something?” She was cackling in the passenger seat, resting one hand on her stomach as she fanned herself with the other.

“Camille, be nice. They just love us.” A chuckle leaving your mouth as you merge onto the highway. You slide your phone to Cam across the bench seat and tell her your passcode. “Put our playlist on. I’m not driving all day without music, you freak.” You roll the windows down and step on the gas as Journey begins to spill from the speakers. 

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・゜✭・・✫

Day three of driving, your last day. The two of you had fought about pretty much everything, music, who was driving, what hotel or motel you’d sleep in, what was for lunch or dinner. There were good times too, though. Sightseeing, weird rest stops, having to pull over on the highway so Cam could pee because she absolutely couldn’t hold it in until the next bathroom (something you’d be sure to tease her about for the rest of your lives). None of that seemed to matter when the U-Haul was finally parked in your new driveway. A small 2 bedroom brick home stared back at you as you started unloading your things, the emerald green door waiting for your keys. 

“Hey C, I think we should unpack everything and then I can go return the U-Haul. I wanna get it over with sooner rather than later.” Yelling across the lawn, she agreed. You quickly passed boxes to her, not that there were too many in the truck. Finally empty, you and Camille headed inside to start unpacking boxes. You got your room set up enough to sleep in tonight, and told Cam you were headed out to return the U-Haul. You pulled out of the driveway, your favorite song playing as you turned out of the neighborhood, that is until your phone started ringing. Oh great, it’s your mother. 

“Hi momma, we just got to the house! We’re finally home.” Your mother was so excited for you to get out of Washington, even if it meant being almost across the country from her. 

“Hi baby! I’m so glad you girls made it safe. I just wanted to call because I have a gift for you.” Your mom couldn’t help but let out a choked sob. “You worked so hard to get out there, you saved so much money. Your dad and I wanted to get you something special.” 

“Mom, you’ve got me worried. Why’re you crying?” 

“Nothing wrong, y/n. We saved up some money for you to get a new guitar. A special one for your new life, in your new town. I just transferred you the money, my love.” 

“We’ve never been more proud to be your parents.” Your dad chimed in, the pride and sadness of your move evident in his voice.

Tears streamed down your face as you thanked them, and promised to send pictures when you picked out your new guitar. You wrapped up the phone call, thanking her once more, right as you pulled into the U-Haul parking lot. You paid for your rental, and called an Uber, deciding to have it take you to a small local guitar shop. Ramblr’s Music. Repairs, sales, lessons. On top of getting a new guitar, who knows. Maybe you could score a job there. 

A silver Honda pulled up next to you, and confirmed they were your Uber. As you slid into the backseat, you heard the music. A major guitar solo was playing, and it was stunning . Leaning forward and squinting your eyes you could see what it was. Greta Van Fleet. You made a mental note to check them out later, and made small talk with the Uber driver until you found yourself walking up to the little music shop. You’d barely been in Nashville five hours, and your life would already never be the same.

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭

You’d been perusing the guitars for over an hour, but none of them felt right. You knew they were fine instruments, they just weren’t your dream guitar. They weren’t a vintage Les Paul SG. You’d wanted one for years, since you’d taken your music seriously. The shape, the sound. Something so classic and beautiful that the modern re-releases just couldn’t quite compare to. Fully knowing it was out of your budget, you decided to ask someone anyway. You found yourself walking toward the desk, a short kid maybe 17 standing there on his phone. 

“Hey, I’ve been looking around and I don’t see what I was hoping to find. Do you maybe have any Les Paul SG’s?  Maybe one in the back, or do you know where I could find one? I’m new in town and don’t really know where to look.” You let out a small laugh, immediately feeling out of your element. 

“Actually, yeah. We’ve got one in the back that I guess has been on hold or something but it’s been weeks and the guy never came to get it. It’s in a case and everything, too. Let me go get it.” Popping his gum as he walked away, your heart was pounding. Were you actually about to buy your dream guitar? Something about Nashville was proving to be magical. 

He came back, a busted black leather hard case in hand. “Here, look it over. I think it's a ‘61 but I could be wrong. Just started working here last week.” The clasps clanked as you pulled them up and off, finally lifting the lid to the case. There she was. A beautiful cherry stain on the wood, new strings and a crack down the bottom half of the guitar, only adding personality and proof the instrument was well loved prior to you.  You carried the guitar over to an amp, plugging it in and sitting on the stool. You wrestled to figure out what song to play, finally deciding on one of the songs you’d put time into learning. Nothing Else Matters, your fathers favorite Metallica song. You’d spent hours learning to play it for him, and could remember the tears in his eyes when you finally showed him. A fond memory you now shared with your dream guitar. God, it played like perfection. You knew there was no way you’d walk out of this store without the cherry red beast. 

You walked back to the counter and safely secured the guitar into the case after taking a photo. The new kid checked you out, enabling a purchase you probably shouldn’t have made. You ordered an Uber, and slipped into the backseat with your new baby. 

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭

Jakes POV

Tour had been beyond exhausting. You loved playing, you loved the fans, you loved seeing the different states and countries. The only thing you loved more? Being at home, in bed with some popcorn and whiskey, watching a documentary on pirates. Especially on a fine Wednesday night such as this. Finally rolling out of bed for the first time in hours, your slippers pull you down the stairs and into the kitchen in search of food more filling than the snacks upstairs. Regrettably, you hadn’t gone grocery shopping in some time, simply surviving on what was left in your pantry before you left on tour. A groan leaves your chest as you trudge back upstairs. Slipping on your favorite blue jeans and a button up, you find your car keys and make your way to the jeep sitting in your garage. You decided that while you were out, you might as well run the rest of the errands you’d been neglecting in lieu of alone time. 

Your favorite playlist queued, and sunglasses pressed to your face, you pulled out of the garage and headed off to Ramblr’s. Your beloved guitar had taken far too much of a beating this last leg, and a crack appeared down the body. You had held her together for the last few shows using some electrical tape, the best thing you could get your hands on while on the road. On the way home from the airport, you dropped your guitar off to be repaired, only trusting Scott, the store owner, to repair your precious cargo. You rolled your car windows up, and hit your vape one last time before getting out and heading to the building. The second the shop doors opened, an uneasy feeling washed over you as the sounds of Scott screaming at some teenager filled your ears. 

“Are you fucking stupid, or are you dumb Jeremy? No, you know what you are? Fucking fired. Get out of my shop!” Scott pushed over a small display of guitar straps and stomped off, leaving who you assumed was Jeremy in a crumpled sobbing mess on the floor. You walked over to him, and crouched down. 

“Hey, Jeremy. Whatever’s going on, it’ll be okay. I’m Jake, and I’ve known Scott a real long time. I’m sure he’s just having a rough day. Let me go talk to him.” 

Jeremy looked back at you in horror, and pushed himself away. “I’m so sorry sir. I’m so sorry.” He picked himself off of the floor, and bolted outside, not even bothering to collect his personal items or clock off. You weren’t sure what happened, but you knew it couldn’t be good. 

You made your way to the back, where Scott’s office was and tried your best to mentally prepare yourself for whatever shit storm he was about to drop on you. You cleared your throat, and Scott’s eyes shot up to meet yours. His appearance disheveled, and tears of frustration threatened to fall down his face. 

“Ah, shit. Hey kid. Come in, have a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from his desk. You shuffled over, and pulled the chair out before sinking into the plush cushion. He avoided eye contact with you, which was very unusual. You also noted him picking at his nails, something he did when stressed. 

After a few minutes of silence, you decided to bite the bullet. “Give it to me straight, Scotty. What the hell is going on?” 

His head dropped in shame, and he took a deep breath before shakily answering you. “Jake, that stupid new kid. He sold your guitar.”

Your blood ran cold, and suddenly all you saw was red. “Scott you’re fucking joking, right? Don’t fuck with me. Bring me my guitar.” 

He shoved the paperwork towards you, all of it showing the colossal fuckup Jeremy had made. “I wish it was a joke, Jake. But the kid sold her off to some girl who came in a few hours ago. I don't even know how he screwed this up so bad.”

You ran a hand through your hair, and sighed. “Make me a copy of this. I’m gonna go find her.”

”I already tried the number Jake. She wont pick up.”

You stood from the chair and looked down at him. “Scott, just make me a damn copy.”

He left the room, and came back with the papers for you and continued to apologize profusely as you walked out of the store. The rain soaked your clothes as you walked to the car, your breath visible in the cold weather. 

The paperwork told you basically nothing. Just her name, and an out of state phone number. The kid didn’t even fully fill out the sale paperwork, leaving the address and email slots bare. You got in the car, phone number in hand and hoped and prayed that she hadn’t left town. That guitar was your prized possession, the best gift you’d ever received. You’d been beyond floored when the Chicago Music Exchange let you have it, free of charge. And now, you had no idea where she was. 

You took a shaky breath, and dialed the number. It didn’t even ring. You’d immediately been sent to voicemail, and the default one at that. You brought your hands to your face, and rubbed your eyes. How could Scott let this happen?

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・

End of first chapter <3

TAGLIST : @hollyco @literal-dead-leaf @anythingforjtk @do-it-jakey-baby

[gloomysoup]

new a/b/o steddie brainworms

omega!steve/alpha!eddie

so steve and eddie were never "officially" together. they were sort of dating for a while, both scared of a real commitment. things unfold, eddie gets a record deal, he leaves town to pursue music. he's doing great for himself, but he loses contact w most people in hawkins, aside from wayne (and like mike or dustin maybe idk). steve finds out he's pregnant but doesn't tell anyone for a while. only robin knows. he never plans on telling eddie.

wayne hears ab it and confronts steve, asking if it's eddie's. it is. wayne tries to convince steve to tell eddie the truth, but steve won't. he doesn't want eddie to feel obligated to come back. he doesn't want to ruin eddie's career when it's just starting to get him somewhere. he doesn't want to be a burden. wayne, while not happy ab the decision, respects it. he doesn't tell eddie either, but he also knows that steve is on his own. he starts doing what he can to help. it's his grandchild after all. so he's there for whatever steve needs. he sends him a portion of his paychecks every time he gets paid to help w hospital bills and anything steve needs for the baby. after they're born, wayne tries to be as involved as he can. he offers to babysit when steve needs to work, he still gives steve money, etc. eddie still doesn't know.

im thinking a few years down the line, eddie finally comes back to hawkins. he's just there to visit wayne. it's a surprise; no one knows he's coming. now how exactly he finds out ab this child is not yet determined.

on one hand, i think it would be interesting if he happens to find the money wayne always sets aside for steve and asks ab it. wayne would probably lie, even tho it kills him to do it. he wants eddie to know the truth, but he also knows he can't betray steve's trust like that. he understands why steve chose not to tell eddie, even if he isn't happy ab it. i imagine however events unfold, wayne would try to keep steve's secret as long as he can while simultaneously trying to convince steve to tell eddie anyway.

everything works out in the end. eddie and steve work things out once he gets over the fact that everyone lied to him, that steve hid his child from him for years. they live as one big happy family and eddie still has his career. he tours and writes songs ab his family and sings his child lullabies at night. steve essentially becomes a househusband, tho he probably has a part-time job like coaching basketball or something idk. he and their child often join eddie & the band on tour probably and all the corroded coffin guys love the child very much (truthfully, they probably also knew well before eddie of the kid's existence but again steve did NOT want eddie to know)

that's all. idk if this will ever become anything but the idea was there and i wanted to share