#this is longer than some of my college essays

[sunsoak]

Think I might fuck around and edit the always sunny Wikipedia page for grammar because there’s a criminally long run on sentence in the lead section

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Prison-tech is a scam - and a harbinger of your future

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/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Here's how the shitty technology adoption curve works: when you want to roll out a new, abusive technology, look for a group of vulnerable people whose complaints are roundly ignored and subject them to your bad idea. Sand the rough edges off on their bodies and lives. Normalize the technological abuse you seek to inflict.

Next: work your way up the privilege gradient. Maybe you start with prisoners, then work your way up to asylum seekers, parolees and mental patients. Then try it on kids and gig workers. Now, college students and blue collar workers. Climb that curve, bit by bit, until you've reached its apex and everyone is living with your shitty technology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Prisoners, asylum seekers, drug addicts and other marginalized people are the involuntary early adopters of every form of disciplinary technology. They are the leading indicators of the ways that technology will be ruining your life in the future. They are the harbingers of all our technological doom.

Which brings me to Minnesota.

Minnesota is one of the first states make prison phone-calls free. This is a big deal, because prison phone-calls are a big business. Prisoners are literally a captive audience, and the telecommunications sector is populated by sociopaths, bred and trained to spot and exploit abusive monopoly opportunities. As states across America locked up more and more people for longer and longer terms, the cost of operating prisons skyrocketed, even as states slashed taxes on the rich and turned a blind eye to tax evasion.

This presented telco predators with an unbeatable opportunity: they approached state prison operators and offered them a bargain: "Let us take over the telephone service to your carceral facility and we will levy eye-watering per-minute charges on the most desperate people in the world. Their families – struggling with one breadwinner behind bars – will find the money to pay this ransom, and we'll split the profits with you, the cash-strapped, incarceration-happy state government."

This was the opening salvo, and it turned into a fantastic little money-spinner. Prison telco companies and state prison operators were the public-private partnership from hell. Prison-tech companies openly funneled money to state coffers in the form of kickbacks, even as they secretly bribed prison officials to let them gouge their inmates and inmates' families:

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/02/mississippi-corrections-corruption-bribery-private-prison-hustle/

As digital technology got cheaper and prison-tech companies got greedier, the low end of the shitty tech adoption curve got a lot more crowded. Prison-tech companies started handing out "free" cheap Android tablets to prisoners, laying the groundwork for the next phase of the scam. Once prisoners had tablets, prisons could get rid of phones altogether and charge prisoners – and their families – even higher rates to place calls right to the prisoner's cell.

Then, prisons could end in-person visits and replace them with sub-skype, postage-stamp-sized videoconferencing, at rates even higher than the voice-call rates. Combine that with a ban on mailing letters to and from prisoners – replaced with a service that charged even higher rates to scan mail sent to prisoners, and then charged prisoners to download the scans – and prison-tech companies could claim to be at the vanguard of prison safety, ending the smuggling of dope-impregnated letters and other contraband into the prison system.

Prison-tech invented some wild shit, like the "digital stamp," a mainstay of industry giant Jpay, which requires prisoners to pay for "stamps" to send or receive a "page" of email. If you're keeping score, you've realized that this is a system where prisoners and their families have to pay for calls, "in-person" visits, handwritten letters, and email.

It goes on: prisons shuttered their libraries and replaced them with ebook stores that charged 2-4 times the prices you'd pay for books on the outside. Prisoners were sold digital music at 200-300% markups relative to, say, iTunes.

Remember, these are prisoners: locked up for years or decades, decades during which their families scraped by with a breadwinner behind bars. Prisoners can earn money, sure – as much as $0.89/hour, doing forced labor for companies that contract with prisons for their workforce:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2017/04/10/wages/

Of course, there's the odd chance for prisoners to make really big bucks – $2-5/day. All they have to do is "volunteer" to fight raging wildfires:

https://www.hcn.org/articles/climate-desk-wildfire-california-incarcerated-firefighters-face-dangerous-work-low-pay-and-covid19/

So those $3 digital music tracks are being bought by people earning as little as $0.10/hour. Which makes it especially galling when prisons change prison-tech suppliers, whereupon all that digital music is deleted, wiping prisoners' media collection out – forever (literally, for prisoners serving life terms):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/08/captive-audience-how-floridas-prisons-and-drm-made-113m-worth-prisoners-music

Let's recap: America goes on a prison rampage, locking up ever-larger numbers of people for ever-longer sentences. Once inside, prisoners had their access to friends and family rationed, along with access to books, music, education and communities outside. This is very bad for prisoners – strong ties to people outside is closely tied to successful reentry – but it's great for state budgets, and for wardens, thanks to kickbacks:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2021/12/21/family_contact/

Back to Minnesota: when Minnesota became the fourth state in the USA where the state, not prisoners, would pay for prison calls, it seemed like they were finally breaking the vicious cycle in which every dollar ripped off of prisoners' family paid 40 cents to the state treasury:

https://www.kaaltv.com/news/no-cost-phone-calls-for-those-incarcerated-in-minnesota/

But – as Katya Schwenk writes for The Lever – what happened next is "a case study in how prison communication companies and their private equity owners have managed to preserve their symbiotic relationship with state corrections agencies despite reforms — at the major expense of incarcerated people and their families":

https://www.levernews.com/wall-streets-new-prison-scam/

Immediately after the state ended the ransoming of prisoners' phone calls, the private-equity backed prison-tech companies that had dug their mouth-parts into the state's prison jacked up the price of all their other digital services. For example, the price of a digital song in a Minnesota prison just jumped from $1.99 to $2.36 (for prisoners earning as little as $0.25/hour).

As Paul Wright from the Human Rights Defense Center told Schwenk, "The ideal world for the private equity owners of these companies is every prisoner has one of their tablets, and every one of those tablets is hooked up to the bank account of someone outside of prison that they can just drain."

The state's new prison-tech supplier promises to double the amount of kickbacks it pays the state each year, thanks to an aggressive expansion into games, money transfers, and other "services." The perverse incentive isn't hard to spot: the more these prison-tech companies charge, the more kickbacks they pay to the prisons.

The primary prison-tech company for Minnesota's prisons is Viapath (nee Global Tel Link), which pioneered price-gouging on in-prison phone calls. Viapath has spent the past two decades being bought and sold by different private equity firms: Goldman Sachs, Veritas Capital, and now the $46b/year American Securities.

Viapath competes with another private equity-backed prison-tech giant: Aventiv (Securus, Jpay), owned by Platinum Equity. Together, Viapath and Aventiv control 90% of the prison-tech market. These companies have a rap-sheet as long as your arm: bribing wardens, stealing from prisoners and their families, and recording prisoner-attorney calls. But these are the kinds of crimes the state punishes with fines and settlements – not by terminating its contracts with these predators.

These companies continue to flout the law. Minnesota's new free-calls system bans prison-tech companies from paying kickbacks to prisons and prison-officials for telcoms services, so the prison-tech companies have rebranded ebooks, music, and money-transfers as non-communications products, and the kickbacks are bigger than ever.

This is the bottom end of the shitty technology adoption curve. Long before Ubisoft started deleting games that you'd bought a "perpetual license" for, prisoners were having their media ganked by an uncaring corporation that knew it was untouchable:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIqyvquTEVU

Revoking your media, charging by the byte for messaging, confiscating things in the name of security and then selling them back to you – these are all tactics that were developed in the prison system, refined, normalized, and then worked up the privilege gradient. Prisoners are living in your technology future. It's just not evenly distributed – yet.

As it happens, prison-tech is at the heart of my next novel, The Bezzle, which comes out on Feb 20. This is a followup to last year's bestselling Red Team Blues, which introduced the world to Marty Hench, a two-fisted, hard-bitten, high-tech forensic accountant who's spent 40 years busting Silicon Valley finance scams:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

In The Bezzle, we travel with Marty back to the mid 2000s (Hench is a kind of tech-scam Zelig and every book is a standalone tale of high-tech ripoffs from a different time and place). Marty's trying to help his old pal Scott Warms, a once-high-flying founder who's fallen prey to California's three-strikes law and is now facing decades in a state pen. As bad as things are, they get worse when the prison starts handing out "free" tablet and closing down the visitation room, the library, and the payphones.

This is an entry to the thing I love most about the Hench novels: the opportunity to turn all this dry, financial skullduggery into high-intensity, high-stakes technothriller plot. For me, Marty Hench is a tool for flensing the scam economy of all its layers of respectability bullshit and exposing the rot at the core.

It's not a coincidence that I've got a book coming out in a week that's about something that's in the news right now. I didn't "predict" this current turn – I observed it. The world comes at you fast and technology news flutters past before you can register it. Luckily, I have a method for capturing this stuff as it happens:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Writing about tech issues that are long-simmering but still in the periphery is a technique I call "predicting the present." It's the technique I used when I wrote Little Brother, about out-of-control state surveillance of the internet. When Snowden revealed the extent of NSA spying in 2013, people acted as though I'd "predicted" the Snowden revelations:

https://www.wired.com/story/his-writing-radicalized-young-hackers-now-he-wants-to-redeem-them/

But Little Brother and Snowden's own heroic decision have a common origin: the brave whistleblower Mark Klein, who walked into EFF's offices in 2006 and revealed that he'd been ordered by his boss at AT&T to install a beam-splitter into the main fiber trunk so that the NSA could illegally wiretap the entire internet:

https://www.eff.org/document/public-unredacted-klein-declaration

Mark Klein inspired me to write Little Brother – but despite national press attention, the Klein revelations didn't put a stop to NSA spying. The NSA was still conducting its lawless surveillance campaign in 2013, when Snowden, disgusted with NSA leadership for lying to Congress under oath, decided to blow the whistle again:

https://apnews.com/article/business-33a88feb083ea35515de3c73e3d854ad

The assumption that let the NSA get away with mass surveillance was that it would only be weaponized against the people at the bottom of the shitty technology adoption curve: brown people, mostly in other countries. The Snowden revelations made it clear that these were just the beginning, and sure enough, more than a decade later, we have data-brokers sucking up billions in cop kickbacks to enable warrantless surveillance, while virtually following people to abortion clinics, churches, and protests. Mass surveillance is chugging its way up the shitty tech adoption curve with no sign of stopping.

Like Little Brother, The Bezzle is intended as a kind of virtual flythrough of what life is like further down on that curve – a way for readers who have too much agency to be in the crosshairs of a company like Viapath or Avently right now to wake up before that kind of technology comes for them, and to inspire them to take up the cause of the people further down the curve who are mired in it.

The Bezzle is an intense book, but it's also a very fun story – just like Little Brother. It's a book that lays bare the internal technical workings of so many scams, from multi-level marketing to real-estate investment trusts, from music royalty theft to prison-tech, in the course of an ice-cold revenge plot that keeps twisting to the very last page.

It'll drop in six days. I hope you'll check it out:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

[kamaluhkhan]

ours are the moments i play in the dark

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: ANGST (im so sorry in advance...); flashback is from conrad's POV and the rest is from reader's perspective; mentions of sex + losing virginities (nothing too detailed/graphic); reader has an ex who's referred to with gender neutral pronouns; reader and other characters drink alcohol (pomegranate margaritas ;) ); hints of alcoholism (reader's mother); jealous reader who's trying her best; pining conrad who's a bit of a jerk; reader and conrad fight A Lot (they will make up eventually i promise!!)

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije, @drikawinchester, @maybankslover, @junnniiieee07, @elcpsstuff, @fangirl-kimora, @redbierd, @starkeylover

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on my conrad series so far! i love these characters and writing their stories, and it means so much that others are enjoying reading my work. there is one more part left and i promise it will be happier so stay tuned :)) i haven't watched the last two episodes of season 2, but i'm planning on writing a bit for that, too!! thank you x infinity ♡

part one | part two

i lost a friend / like keys in a sofa / like a wallet in the backseat / like ice in the summer heat (finneas, "i lost a friend")

now — summer, age 18

“you know, you guys aren’t fooling anyone.”

“and what exactly do you mean by that, steven?” you challenge, taking another sip of your soda. 

it’s the fourth of july and susannah invited you over for her annual celebration. susannah always hosted fun parties, so you were more than happy to accept because it meant eating some good food, listening to an upbeat playlist, watching some fireworks, and just relaxing. essentially, susannah always delivered the best of summer, rolled into a carefully planned event. 

the sun was shining, and everyone was having a good time, including you — at least, until you saw conrad and nicole in the pool, engaging in some serious PDA. you immediately got out of the pool and went to sulk near the drink table, where you were happily alone until steven came over to join you.

“i’m just saying, man. you and con are definitely going out of your way to prove that you’re mad at each other,” steven explains. “but we all know how much you care about each other.”

steven is right about the first part: you and conrad had done your best to avoid each other since the incident at nicole’s party and its fallout. if you and jeremiah had planned to go surfing and he invited conrad, you would always back out at the last minute. if you were over at the fishers helping belly pick out an outfit for a date with cam, conrad would conveniently stay in his room. not to mention, any time the two of you did cross paths — which was rare, but jeremiah and belly were persistent in requesting that all five of you spend time together, like the old days, they would say — it resulted in meaningless, petty arguments. the two of you had always been competitive and very comfortable teasing each other, but the difference was that now, your interactions were no longer good-natured.

you thought steven, belly, and jeremiah hadn’t noticed, but you should have given them more credit. to anyone who knew you, it was pretty obvious that something was up between you and conrad, even if they didn’t know what exactly it was.

“there’s a thin line between love and hate. and right now you guys are that line.”

“thank you for your insight,” you say sarcastically. “be sure to include that in your college essay — i’m sure princeton would love to have you.”

steven rolls his eyes at you, just as nicole arrives at the drink table.

“hey guys,” she greets. she reaches over to grab two cans of peach iced tea before you stop her. 

“conrad’s allergic to peaches,” you say. “so you might wanna get him something else.”

nicole looks at you for a second before nodding and reaching for a can of sprite instead. 

“thanks,” she says as she walks away. 

once she’s gone, steven gives you a pointed look.

“what?” you scoff. 

steven just shakes his head. “love and hate,” he muses, leaving you to join his parents and shayla near the pool. 

you then decide to go inside briefly, where you find belly and jeremiah, pouring vodka into a blender.

“we’re making pomegranate margaritas!” belly exclaims, practically giddy. 

“well, you gotta use the good blender for that.” conrad seems to appear out of nowhere from behind you, instantly reaching for the aforementioned good blender and placing it on the counter.

you were already in a sour mood from seeing him with nicole earlier, but belly looks at you with hopeful eyes, and you remember what steven said earlier, so you mentally promise that you would play nice with conrad. you owe belly and the others that much after being absent for so long: a carefree summer, just like the ones you used to know. 

you imagine that jeremiah sent conrad a similar pleading look because, miraculously, you and conrad don’t argue with each other as you help mix pomegranate margaritas for everyone. you actually engage in playful banter and laugh at the other’s jokes. you even feel sorry for him when his father, who wasn’t supposed to be here, walks in. you can feel the good mood slipping, so you suggest heading to the beach for a change of scenery.

belly had invited cam and a few more girls who are doing the debutante thing with her, and with steven bringing shayla and conrad bringing nicole (which, you are totally fine with, of course, especially after a pomegranate margarita), you had a pretty solid party forming on the beach, away from the adults. 

of all people, belly suggests some drinking games. it’s all a blur of sand, laughter, and vodka spiked fruit juice. once you were all the perfect amount of tired and tipsy, the group settles down, and gigi suggests a different game.

“we should play truth or dare.”

“oh my gosh we should!” belly smiles, tapping your leg enthusiastically. “remember? we used to play it all the time!”

you smile back. “of course i do.” 

when you were kids, you, belly, steven, jeremiah, and conrad would play truth or dare any chance you got. it was never very serious, mostly goofy pranks and harmless questions. you had all grown up since then, and somewhere along the way, truth or dare had become less innocent than it used to be.

“y/n,” one of the debs — dara, if you remembered correctly — turns to you. it was the first time your name had been called, and in all honesty, you were perfectly happy just sitting back in the sun and sipping the rest of your drink. “truth or dare?” 

you choose truth, mostly to avoid having to get up from your very comfortable seat on the sand.

“are you a virgin?”

your mouth suddenly feels dry. you’re not ashamed of your answer, but it doesn’t help that you can see conrad glaring at you from the corner of your eye. you take another sip of your drink before answering. 

“um, not really.” 

“it’s yes or no question,” nicole says. 

“then my answer’s no,” you declare.

“what?” belly screeches. she sits up straighter to turn towards you, and in the process spills some pomegranate margarita on her dress. “i can’t believe you had sex and didn’t tell me? when? with who? what was it like?” her cheeks are slightly flushed. a sober belly would have likely asked you in private, or at the very least, not in front of people you barely knew. in that moment, you almost regret the pomegranate margaritas.

almost. because maybe it’s the silence and everyone’s expectant stares, or the adrenaline you feel from winning most of the drinking games, or the effects of the drinks themselves, but you convince yourself that it’s as good a time as any to tell the story. a sober you would have known to tread more carefully given the context; that would have been about three pomegranate margaritas ago, though. 

“it’s kind of a cliche story, honestly,” you start. “it happened last summer. it was raining that night, so we were hanging out in the back of my teammate’s van, just talking, and one thing led to another….we didn’t plan to do anything, but we got caught in the heat of the moment.” you choose your words carefully, deliberately avoiding eye contact with conrad.

“how was it though?” belly asks, leaning in closer.

you shrug. “a little awkward, i guess? neither of us had sex before then, and we were both figuring stuff out. like, he couldn’t open the condom wrapper because he was so flustered, so i had to help him. it was nice, though,” you admit. “when the rain cleared, we went out to stargaze and fell asleep on the beach.”

belly sighs. “so romantic.”

“you’re right about it being cliche,” steven laughs. he has an arm thrown around shayla, and uses the other to gesture towards conrad. “conrad, man, that sounds almost exactly like your first time.”

you feel your entire body heat up, and it's not because of the sun shining down on you. conrad’s gaze finally meets yours — for a split second only, but it’s enough for steven to notice. 

“holy shit! it all makes sense now!” steven exclaims, suddenly standing up.

jeremiah frowns, looking between you, conrad, and steven. “what makes sense?”

“i’ve been trying to figure out why y/n and conrad have been so weird around each other this summer, but it’s obvious now: they lost their virginities to each other. they had sex!”

nicole stiffens and narrows her eyes at conrad. “you told me you never hooked up with y/n.”

“well, that’s definitely not true.”

“belly,” you warn, looking over to conrad once more. his cheeks are turning red, and you imagine a storm brewing beneath his dark blue eyes. 

“i don’t know about last summer,” belly continues, completely oblivious to the tension building. “but i do know that they kissed at your party.”

“i knew it,” nicole scoffs, pushing away from conrad. “i knew it.” with one last poisonous glare towards conrad, she storms off.

conrad sends you an equally poisonous look before chasing after her. the party dissolves shortly after.

feeling defeated, you lie back in the sand, close your eyes, and let the sun shine down on you once more, taking deep breaths to slow down your heart rate.

call it karma or a cruel twist of fate or just a really shitty coincidence, but you’re finally the one left alone on the beach.

then — summer, age 17

conrad was more than a little surprised to see your name appear on his phone. it wasn't like you were completely off the grid — you texted, though infrequently, and followed each other on socials. he scrolled through his instagram feed and saw the occasional picture of you wearing a costume at a halloween party or sipping hot chocolate on a snowy day. photos that never quite fit the image he had of you in his mind: in cutoff denim shorts and a swimsuit and layers of sunscreen, with sand in your hair and popsicle stains on your lips.

“hey,” he answered after only three rings. 

"hey fisher, any friday night plans?"

he told you he was working on his college essay.

“homework on a friday night in the middle of summer,” you tsked. “i never realized how much of a nerd you are.”

conrad laughed. “i mean, that’s on you for just realizing that.”

 “fair enough,” you hummed, and conrad could practically hear your smile through the phone. “if you’re in the mood for something more fun, look out your window.”

conrad wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but you standing in the driveway of his summer house was pretty low on the list. you waved at him frantically, telling him to hurry up and open his window.

he was still in awe as you climbed through. conrad tried to memorize the image of you then and there, standing in front of him in his bedroom: wearing dolphin shorts and a light jacket, with chipped turquoise nail polish and a bright smile.

"you drove all the way here?" 

"well, they haven't cracked the science behind teleportation yet," you say playfully. "so i didn't have many options."

"i can't believe you're here," conrad smiled, and that’s when you finally hugged him. he held on tightly, afraid you would leave at any moment if he let go. you smelled the same, like chlorine and vanilla sugar.

once you broke away from the hug, you pointed towards something behind him, pinned to his bulletin board. conrad followed your gaze and felt his cheeks heat up.

“i missed you, too, connie,” you teased, eyes lingering on the newspaper clipping of your swim team making it to nationals thanks to your record time. 

“mom showed it to me,” he explained, the smile on your face making his heart beat out of his chest. “she’s so proud of her little mermaid.”

your smile fell, just a bit, but enough for conrad to notice a shift in your mood. you always did a good job at hiding the weight of the world on your shoulders, at least around the others. not so much around him.

you sighed and sat down on his bed. “you know, after that swim meet, my dad lectured me about not being fast enough,” you explained. “winning by only a millisecond apparently wasn’t enough to impress college scouts, at least according to him.”

“your dad’s a jerk,” conrad said instantly. he sat down next to you. “and an idiot, if he can’t see how amazing you are.”

“thanks, connie,” you whispered. it looked like you were going to say more; instead, you picked up his laptop. “wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were working on your college essay. you really are a nerd.”

“shut up,” conrad laughed, nudging you with his shoulder and trying to grab the laptop from you.

you nudged him back. “it’s a compliment! schools go crazy for trust fund nerds.”

“yeah, yeah.” conrad waved you off. “so, you’re in cousins for the summer?”

all you did was smile softly and close the laptop, finally handing it back to him.

conrad’s heart burst with joy. because not only were you there — finally there, after all that time away — but you were staying. his mom would always muse about summers in cousins being magical, but conrad didn’t quite believe her until you were gone and he felt that magic fade away. 

“do you wanna go downstairs? belly’s watching it happened one night with my mom and laurel.”

“as much as i love susannah’s favourite movie,” you started, and conrad’s heart soared again at you remembering his mom’s favourite movie. “i thought maybe it could just be the two of us tonight? maybe we could go for a drive.”

that’s how the two of you ended up at mermaid grove — a secluded stretch of beach about an hour away from your houses. it was near the mall your mothers sometimes went to, and during one of those excursions when you were young, all the kids wandered off and found it. the only time you’d been there was during the day and with jeremiah, belly, steven, and your siblings, so it felt different then, at night with just the two of you.

it started raining on the drive over — which only took 45 minutes without traffic — so you were hanging out in the back of your van. the van actually belonged to one of your teammate’s cousin who was somewhat of a hippie, you said, which explained the smell of weed and bohemian decor — battery powered rainbow fairy lights, colourful pillows, an elaborately patterned tapestry. the space was definitely intimate, or maybe it felt that way because you and conrad were sitting as close as possible to each other, shoulders touching and one of your legs tangled with his. he was scrolling through the pictures on your phone of your last swim meet in california, where you'd gotten the chance to visit stanford, while you were peeling an orange. 

"you would love it there, connie,” you gushed. you dug your fingers into the orange peel, and the smell of citrus started to fill the air. “the beaches are beautiful and the waves are amazing. it’s like, always summer.” 

conrad sometimes felt like summer was the only season of the year that he was truly awake, truly living. everything else felt like a dream, one that he would always describe to you in mundane detail; conrad even kept a small journal throughout the year, writing things down that he needed to tell you once you reunited every june. but one journal had turned to two, almost three, and conrad was trying really hard to not resent you for that.

“anyways, i think i’m going to apply in the fall.”

conrad stopped scrolling through your phone, pausing at a picture you had taken of a lemon tree. “doesn’t your dad have princeton lined up?”

“you make it sound like he bought my way in, when it was actually hours and hours and hours of training to get that scholarship. on the national best swim team.” you mimicked your father’s patronising tone for that last part; conrad hadn’t seen him in years, and he could still recognize it. 

“you’re right, though. my dad would flip his shit. even if i got in with a scholarship, it’s so far away and i have the twins to look after, but a girl can dream, right?”

“i feel that,” conrad assured. you gave him a sad smile, knowing that his dad was as intense about football as yours was about swimming. the worst part was that you both loved your respective sports, until they became a burden. you both had other burdens to deal with, too, when it came to your families. 

“in an ideal world, the two of us wouldn’t have to worry about anything else. we’d live in a place by the beach, surf every day, and hang out in the sun while sipping ice-cold, fresh lemonade.” just like we used to, conrad added in his head.

“in an ideal world,” you agreed. “we’d also adopt four dogs, each named after one of the beatles. you can teach them how to play the guitar.”

conrad laughed. “if i couldn’t teach you, there is no way i can teach one dog, let alone four.”

“well, they wouldn’t get distracted by your dreamy blue eyes like i did.” you winked at conrad, and handed him the freshly peeled orange before he even had time to blush.

“take it,” he protested. “you drove all this way — you should eat something.”

you shook your head and placed the orange in his hand before you pulled out another fruit from your bag. “i picked some of these up on the way here — best peaches on the east coast.” you took a big bite. “remember the summer we found out that you had a mild peach allergy?” you asked, juice dripping down your chin. you wiped it with the sleeve of the varsity jacket you wore.

conrad laughed at the memory. belly and steven had brought back candy from their trip to toronto. conrad practically inhaled an entire bag of fuzzy peaches, and didn’t realize that they weren’t supposed to make your mouth itchy — the “fuzzy” part wasn’t literal. that felt like so long ago, but there you and conrad were, settling back into each other like no time had passed.

as the night grew darker, you and conrad shifted closer to each other. conrad ate orange slice after orange slice as you devoured your peach, all while looking through the photos on your phone. you’d occasionally interject with a short story or comment, and there were still raindrops falling on the roof, but for the most part, there was nothing but a comfortable silence between you. 

you moved to wrap the orange peel and peach pit in a napkin, just as conrad swiped onto a photo of someone kissing your cheek.

“who’s that?”

you leaned over to check. “oh. that’s sam.”

“are you dating?” conrad asked, trying to seem casual about it. just a friend asking another friend about their romantic situation. as a friend. 

“we were,” you explained, sitting back next to him. “they broke up with me a few months ago.”

conrad sighed in relief, which he hoped you didn’t notice. “sorry.”

you shrugged. “it’s fine. apparently i’m emotionally distant.”

that wasn’t much of a surprise to conrad. sam might have been an idiot for breaking up with you, but they were spot on with the emotionally distant part. out of all the time you’d known each other, conrad had only seen you cry once, maybe twice. you were usually the one wiping away tears and putting on a brave face, inadvertently, or maybe purposefully, hiding your own vulnerability. 

still, that wasn’t something conrad was about to stir up.

“what? you?” he joked instead.

“shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes, but the wry smile on your face gave you away. “how about you? broke any hearts this past year?”

conrad thought for a moment. there was aubrey, who his football teammate said had a major crush on him. they had been texting for a while now, and were on the edge of maybe becoming something. but then, there you were, stirring up feelings conrad had long buried — or, at least, tried to. if part of his head was always in summer, then part of his heart always belonged to you. 

“no.”

“got your heart broken?”

he thought back to a few weeks ago, when he ran into your mom at the grocery store, and she said you wouldn’t be coming to cousins again that summer. you hadn’t spoken at all to each other for a month or two before that.

“no,” he lied.

you hummed, and took your phone away from him. 

“wanna hear something trippy?” you asked suddenly. you always had a knack for changing the course of a conversation to where you wanted it to go.

“what?”

“well, since it takes a while for light from space to reach us, when we stargaze, we’re actually looking back in time. like, the star that’s closest to earth — other than the sun — is four light years away. or is it five?” you paused. “anyways, if the sky was clear and we could see that star, it would mean we’d actually be looking at that star from summer, five years ago.”

“very trippy,” conrad agreed. “it’s like a cosmic time machine.”

you hummed. “do you ever wonder what our past selves back then, at like 12 or 13, would think of us now? i think about those summers and how magical they felt.” 

magical. you turned to smile at him softly, and conrad couldn't help but agree.

“i always thought you’d be my first kiss,” you whispered. 

that threw conrad off guard, and it took him a few seconds to regain balance. the van suddenly felt too small and the lingering scent of fruit shared between you two, mixed with the familiar smell of chlorine and vanilla from how close you were sitting to him, became overwhelming. his heart was beating out of his chest — not because he didn’t feel the same way, but because he did.

conrad knew what his 13 year old self would think of him now: he’d be up in arms over his awkward pause, screaming to finally tell you how he felt then, and how those feelings hadn’t really left. how you made him feel safe, excited, confused and angry. how there was a space in his heart just for you, and it was painfully empty when you left, but now that you’re there again —

“sorry,” you said, cutting through the silence. you subtly shifted away from conrad. “i didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“you didn’t,” conrad answered instantly. he registered how you were now slightly hunched over and brought your knees to your chest, how you bit your lip and avoided eye contact — a few hints that you felt uncomfortable, deflated even at his lack of response. 

so, he moved closer to you and gently placed a hand on your knee. 

“you didn’t make things weird,” conrad assured once more. you were brave, he decided: for a lot of things you did, but right then for being so honest, so vulnerable. it inspired him to do the same. “i mean, this might make things weird, but i always thought you’d be my first…you know. at least, ever since i knew what sex even was.”

you finally turned towards him, your lips slightly parted. 

“yeah,” you breathed. “me too.”

conrad’s eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“do you still want to —”

“yes. i - i mean, no pressure, but if you still want to —”

“i do.”

you smiled then and conrad felt himself do the same. 

when you kissed for the first time, it was like rainclouds parted and the stars came out, shining bright in infinite darkness. the two of you became tangled up in each other: you sat in his lap, legs on either side of his waist, your chests pressed together and your fingers tangled in his hair, which drove him crazy. conrad let his hands explore your body, gently grazing the skin under your shirt. his lips tingled from the remnants of peach juice on yours, but he kept kissing you. 

it was awkward and exhilarating at the same time. you asked each other if what you were doing felt good and right and were slightly embarrassed if the answer was no, but still adjusted if needed. at one point, conrad was fumbling with the condom wrapper and you had to open it with your teeth; he jokingly pointed out how you used to do the same with packs of sour patch kids and you giggled before kissing him again.

the two of you lay down on the floor once you were done. your head rested on conrad’s chest and he had his arm around you, idly tracing shapes on your skin with his fingertips. he craned his neck down to look at you.

even in the dim lighting and after years apart, you looked the same. even if you’d never been that close before, at least not in the same way you had just been, you felt familiar. 

you tilted you head towards him and smiled. 

“what?” 

there was something about the way you looked at him that still made him blush, and conrad hoped that with the lack of bright light, you wouldn’t notice. 

“sounds like the rain stopped,” he said. “wanna go stargazing?”

it was slightly chilly, so you let conrad borrow your varsity jacket, even if it didn’t fit perfectly. the sky was clear and full of stars. you spent the rest of the night there together, on the beach. 

in the morning, conrad woke up before you. he watched as you took slow, deep breaths with your eyes still closed. you looked so peaceful — until the sound of your alarm prompted you to wake up.

“shit,” you exhaled, your eyes wide once you noticed the sun had risen. “what time is it?” 

you searched frantically for your phone, only to find it right next to you.

“shit,” you repeated once you checked the time. you stood up right away, sand kicking from underneath your feet. “this is bad.”

“what —”

conrad didn’t have time to even ask you what was wrong because you bolted to the van. he followed you.

“what’s wrong?”

you looked at conrad, brows furrowed. “i have to go. i don’t want to leave you, but i have to go.”

“it’s okay,” conrad reassured. he stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your cheek. “i’ll be here when you get back.”

“i’m…” you step away from him. “i’m not coming back.”

“what do you mean?” he tried to steady his voice, but a dangerous mix of hurt and anger threatened to wash over him. conrad’s heart dropped, knowing all too well what was likely coming next, but he hoped, wished, that it wouldn’t be like before.

“i’ve got a swim meet in boston,” you exhaled. “but i can drive you home on my way there.”

“you’ll come back to cousins after,” conrad declared, as if saying it out could change what would happen next. “you said you’d be here for the summer.” 

you shrugged, stumbling over your words. “technically, i didn’t say that. you just assumed and — ”

“and you wanted me to believe it, right?”

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “just — let me drive you home, connie.”

the use of his childhood nickname — the one he secretly despised, except when it came from you — was what made him snap.

“i should have known,” he snarled. “god, i should have known. you don’t care about me, about us. swimming over everything, right?”

“that’s not true.” your eyes opened, but you still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “i do care, but you know the pressure i’m under —”

“fine. you want to talk about pressure?” conrad laughed, bitterly, all his frustration bleeding out and pooling at your feet. “my mom had cancer, and you couldn’t even be there for me. texts and phone calls only do so much when you’re watching the woman who raised you wither away to nothing.”

your eyes softened slightly, finally looking at him. you took a step forward, but conrad took another two back. 

“conrad —”

 “no. don’t,” he snapped, making you stop. “why did you even come here?”

“i was close by and…” you paused. “i guess i just needed to come back, even just for a bit.” 

"figures," conrad scoffed. “you only care when it’s convenient.” 

“that’s not true,” you repeated. 

conrad waited a second for you say something more, but you didn’t. 

“well, i’m really glad you got what you needed,” he mocked. “tell me, does nostalgia and sex help you swim faster? impress college scouts? make daddy proud of you?” 

you stiffened slightly. “don’t be an asshole.”

“no, no. congratulations!” he clapped to emphasize his point. “i’m so glad i could help you! guess you just needed a quick fuck before your big competition for some good luck. hope it works out in your favour.”

there was so much venom laced in his words, and he could tell you noticed. you looked at him like he was a stranger. 

“fuck you,” you finally said. your voice was shaking slightly and it looked like tears were forming in your eyes. “you can walk home, for all i care.” 

without another word, you got into the car and drove away. conrad watched your car become smaller in the distance as he stood alone at the beach, wearing your jacket and replaying every word he said.

now 

it’s hours after susannah’s fourth of july celebration. the adrenaline and alcohol from early wore off, and you’re sitting on your front porch, sipping tea from your favourite mug. you were hoping to relax, but the sight of conrad fisher storming up to you threatens that.

“where do you get off, saying what you did earlier?” 

even under the low light of the porch, you can see that his face is red with anger. he came here to argue, but you’re too tired to really care.

“well, shit, conrad,” you sigh. “don’t blame me. blame — blame truth or dare and pomegranate margaritas and steven for being so goddamn perceptive.” 

“you lied,” he accuses, crossing his arms. “you said you didn’t tell belly about us kissing at nicole’s party.”

“at least i didn’t lie to my girlfriend,” you point out, your voice dull from exhaustion. conrad is momentarily at a loss for words, furrowing his brow even further, so you decide to steer the conversation in another direction — away. “look, i just had to pick up my drunk mother from the bar, so i’m really not in the mood for this conversation.”

you move to leave, but conrad grabs your left wrist before you reach the door. the sudden action startles you, and you release the mug you were holding in your right hand. it falls to the ground, the break clean, and the rest of your tea spills onto the porch. you exhale sharply, turning back to face conrad.

“i don’t care,” he snaps. “you fucked up earlier today. you never should have mentioned that night. talking about it like it actually meant something to you.”

“you know what, conrad? maybe it’s hard for you to believe, but that night actually meant something to me.” you laugh bitterly, feeling more awake than before. “and, yeah, now i’ve spent so much time regretting it. because maybe i hoped that we’d start dating, but even if that didn’t happen, i never expected to lose my best friend.”

conrad rolls his eyes. “i don’t know how you can stand there and call me your best friend. best friends don’t leave each other —”

“fine, i did leave,” you interrupt. your voice is slightly raised, and you can’t help but feel a new rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins. the fact that conrad is standing in front of you, suggesting that you were the one to blame for the hostility between you — that made you frustrated, angry, even. 

“i had other shit going on,” you continue. “and maybe i didn’t handle the situation well at first — that’s on me, sure. but i wasn’t the one who ignored texts and sent calls straight to voicemails. i’m not the one who’s spending the summer avoiding everyone who knows them because they’re too scared of others finding out the truth. i don’t know who you are this summer, but i know the real you, conrad.”

“no, you don’t.”

by now, you’ve walked closer, standing only a few inches in front of him. if you reached out, you’d be able to brush the bangs away from his forehead, but you don’t. 

“i do know you,” you assert. “in fact, i hate how much i know you. i know that “yesterday” by the beatles is your favourite song, and the first one you learned on the guitar. i know that you’re crazy good at chess, but let jeremiah win sometimes when your dad is watching. i know that you love playing football, but hate that you’re expected to play it. i know that i hurt you last year, so you had to ignore me because that was easier than admitting how you really feel because — because you’re scared.” 

“you’re wrong.” conrad stares at you, his gaze heavy on yours. 

you shake your head. “i know that you didn’t tell anyone about what happened between us because it meant something to you. and that really scares you, too.” 

“you’re…you’re wrong.” conrad’s voice wavers a bit, his eyes soften ever so slightly, and you know you’ve struck a chord. 

“i’m not,” you say. “and, honestly? i’m so fucking tired of waiting for you to realize that. i don’t care anymore. whatever was between us during all those summers, it's obviously not here anymore."

“you’re wrong,” he’s like a broken record, stuck on the same lyric. 

"stop blaming me for fucking this up," you continue. "it's your mess, too, conrad. and i’m so fucking tired."

it’s late, and it’s dark, and you can’t bring yourself to stay here anymore. without saying anything else, you step over the broken porcelain of your favourite mug and into your house, leaving conrad alone on your poorly lit porch.

when the sun rises and you go outside in the morning, the pieces are gone. 

[texas-bitch-yee]

Dazai Crush headcanons

Bc I love crush headcanons they are clearly my fav if you scroll through my blog

Definitely a you fell first he fell harder type of moment

Even tho he’s a flirt i don’t think he gets too many crushes.

You would probably start out as friends and as he grows closer he starts to catch feelings. I feel like he’s the type to need to true connection with someone to get a crush. Someone he realizes he can be his true self around and not keep up his facade.

Once the realization hits he’ll need a little bit to process his emotions.

After he accepts his emotions he’ll definitely make an effort to be by you as much as he possibly can. You’re going on your lunch break how about I come with you? You’re going to the park on Saturday what a coincidence I was totally planning on going to the park on Saturday too.

Will try his best to make you laugh so he can see you smile.

Would try to woo you by showing off his wit. “Oh you love chocolate?? Well did you know in 1865-“

The agency would definitely know he’s crushing and yosano and ranpo ship y’all. Definitely egg yall on. “Dazai your outfit looks amazing today! What do you think , ____?”

Dazai would definitely throw flirty comments around but I feel like you wouldn’t take it seriously bc he’s dazai. But what you didn’t notice was he’s no longer flirting with anything that breathes the same air as him. Just you.

Dazai is definitely a lover of physical touch so I can see him ‘accidentally’ bumping into you or putting his hand on your shoulder. Taking something you hand him and brushing his fingers against yours for longer than what’s comfortable. Just simple little touches that make his heart race

He also loves words of affirmation so I can see him giving you compliments a lot. “I like that jacket on you ___ it suits you a lot” “wow you’re so good at this!! Can you teach me”

Definitely gushes and kicks his feet at night while holding his pillow like a teenage girl while thinking about y’all’s intentions that day.

Actually shows up early to stuff if you’re there. One time Kunikida freaked out and made him go home thinking he was sick “I’m just happy to be here” “🤯 it’s worse than I thought go home dazai”

You might hold the power to possibly making him blush. All these new emotions about you have him in a frenzy so it’s one of the few times you can catch him off guard.

I can see him bringing you little gifts since he’s a broke bitch. “Hey I got this donut this morning and i don’t want it anymore would you like it?” (Lies he purposefully bought that for you)

You often catch him looking at you but when he gets caught he just does that smirk at you. You know the one

Acts extra confident in front of you. Even though on the inside he’s losing it.

Weirdo probably has a picture of you somewhere that he just likes to glance at when he’s feeling down.

Starts tidying himself up. Nicely dressed, hair just so, he even splurged on some expensive cologne and probably goes a tad bit overboard putting it on. Will walk past you 100 times the first time he wears it hoping you pick up the sent and like it “dazai you smell good today you got plans or something?” “No 🤭”

Protective but not overprotective. He’s knows when you need his help and when you don’t.

If you’re a girl who wears lipstick daily you get bonus points. He loves lipstick especially red shades. Definitely takes your tube out of your purse and plays with it. Then goes to the store looks at the brand of lipstick and gets you another shade “you got me a gift what for?” “Idk just reminded me of you” “omg this is my favorite brand how did you know?”

I could go on and on but this is already too long and I have a college essay due in 3 days that I haven’t even started

[i4bellingham]

ATTENTION: pablo gavi x reader

SYNOPSIS: in you're stumped with school works and gavi just wants you to spare him some time for cuddles.

NOTE: my first ever gavi fic hooray! *pops confetti* i literally wrote this instead of fixating my time to do my school works but i realized that school works doesn't give me a peace of mind unlike writing fanfiction does so of course i’d rather be here than do my school stuff-

If he could burn the pile of folders and papers stacked on your study table, Gavi definitely would.

But since he knows that it's important that you finish them and submit those papers to whichever nuisance gave them to you in the very first place, Gavi simply scoffed, pouted his lips, crossed his arms over his chest before the door closed right in front of his face.

You literally closed the door in front of him when he's sulking because hey! He can behave himself when you're studyingㅡ or doing those god forsaken school works.

You didn't have to shut him out, but you did. And that made the 18 year old frown even more before walking away, deciding to stay in the living room instead.

On the other hand, you began filing the papers that were due at an earlier date, placing them to your right and separating the rest to the left.

It was such a pain in the ass but you needed to graduate, at least one between you and Gavi needs to finish their studies for the sake of your future, your own future. And it's immediately concluded that it'd be you, seeing as how much Gavi already flourishes in his sport.

And you wanted to make a name for yourselfㅡ not wanting to be known simply as Gavi’s significant other when you know you can pave a way for your own success, hence why you're trying your best in college.

You are aware of Gavi's current disposition after you slammed the door shut in front of his face.

He had the tendency to be a tad bit overdramatic, clingy and just borderline possessive of your time and attention. He wants all of it to be directed to him but after a few months of competing with your resolute drive to do well in your studies, he had to make the adjustments in himself.

And as much as it pains him, he's actually very proud that you're steering your path to where you want it to. No matter if he has to fight inanimate papers for you to pay a semblance of attention to him, Gavi is happy and proud of you, knowing well that college in general wasn't an easy path to take and you're diving into it with determination and confidence.

Sighing, you began flipping through your tasks, wanting to finish a good portion of it just as much as you boyfriend.

-

It wasn’t until 4 hours later since you've started, already managing to finish 5 activities and 2 drafts for your literary essays when your phone pinged.

-

from: gavi 💛

around what time are you gonna pay attention to me?

-

You snort, pausing from stapling your papers as you lean back on your chair. You began typing your reply.

-

to: gavi 💛

i literally just talked to you not even 20 minutes ago when you brought me food

-

from: gavi 💛

SO?????

-

You chuckle, picturing him rolling his eyes at your response.

-

to: gavi 💛

just how much attention do you need pablo? 🙄

from: gavi 💛

ALL OF IT??? IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION

-

You shake your head, closing your phone before pocketing it and then turning the lights to your desk lamp off.

You stretched your body for a few minutes, releasing a groan when you hear your joints cracking before walking over to the door, twisting the knob open and letting yourself out.

Gavi was lying down on the sofa when you reached the living room, feet on the back rest with his head hanging at the edge of the seat.

“You’ll get dizzy when you stay in that position for much longer Gavi.”

Gavi turns his head to you with a sigh. “You were gone for hours.”

“Well I'm here now aren't I?” You pat his cheek, moving to sit down next to him.

Gavi lays his head on your lap, throwing his phone on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I was bored.” You can almost hear the pout in his voice as he close his eyes, nuzzling his face on your stomach as you began running your fingers through his hair.

“When are you ever not bored?”

“When you're with me.” He immediately replies. “I don’t get bored when you're with me.”

You roll your eyes playfully, throwing your head back against the soft cushion. “What do you peg me for? A comedian? A clown?”

“A nice company.” He tilts his head, chuckling at the way your mouth went agape at his answer.

You clear your throat before flicking his forehead.

“You’re such a smooth talker aren't you?”

Gavi grabs your free hand, kissing each knuckles before placing it over his cheeks.

“Just with you...”

You don't say anything, you don't comment on how red his own cheeks had gotten. He doesn't say add anything too.

Gavi pats the space beside him, silently asking you to lay with him and you silently do. He reaches a hand out to brush away the stray hair that fell on your face, letting you adjust yourself comfortably beside him with your head now over his chest.

Gavi wraps an arm around you, entangling your feet together before he leans down to kiss your forehead while rubbing slow circles on your back.

The two of you don’t say anything for a while, letting the silence prevail as you bask in the company of the otherㅡ Gavi's need for attention finally solved.

[comradekatara]

where do you see piandao fitting into your ever-expanding modern highschool au? he's honestly one of my favourite minor (non-gaang) characters to be honest

i mean obviously piandao is some kind of mentor figure to sokka. i think he sort of fills the hole hakoda leaves in his absence (which is its own complicated thing that i don’t have time to get into rn). they would meet earlier than in canon. he’s probably an english teacher.

at first he thinks sokka is plagiarizing his papers because what kind of middle schooler knows how to cite articles they accessed from jstor, but eventually he realizes that sokka is simply not receiving enough enrichment in his enclosure and offers to give him personal classes where they’ll read more challenging books. and sokka agrees on the condition that he’s allowed to bring yue (because they’re codependent and do literally everything together) because he knows that she could also use more enrichment in her enclosure. so the three of them meet every saturday morning in the library to discuss paradise lost and the like every week for years.

and then yue dies, and sokka loses all interest in showing up to the library on a saturday morning when he could sleep in until 3 pm. and he kind of loses touch with piandao, because he’s in high school now, so he no longer sees him in the halls or has time for their extracurriculars. and piandao doesn’t really know how to make sokka feel better about his girlfriend/best friend in the entire world dying, because even if he may feel like it sometimes, he is not actually his father. so they just lose touch for years.

sokka goes to college, moves away, meets new people. but then one day, sokka is back home for a holiday or something, and he runs into piandao at the jasmine dragon (they’re both friends with iroh). and he’s just elated to see him again, there’s none of that awkwardness or despair that permeated all their interactions after yue’s death. they’re just happy to get the opportunity to catch up after all this time.

sokka’s like “i can’t believe you put up with me, i was such a dumb kid” and piandao doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the first essay sokka ever wrote for class was so brilliant that he assumed sokka had just straight up copy pasted the entire thing from a publication because sokka is still going on about how “english was always my worst subject, i’ve always been way more of a stem guy, katara is the real writer of the family, she’s actually a freelance journalist now, i’m so proud of her” blah blah blah “it was nice of you to humor me, though. i know yue really loved our sessions.”

at which point piandao bravely resists the urge to take sokka by the shoulders and shake him, and instead simply asks him, “so how’s grad school?”

[aprilclementine]

part 3 of history teacher steve and art teacher eddie

part 1 / part 2

There was already enough to worry about your freshman year of high school. Dustin was just happy he had a good group of friend to be by his side through it all. Plus, his best friend Mike’s sister was going to be their English teacher, Lucas assured Dustin it would be a walk in the park. They were so wrong.

"Mike your sister is seriously scarier than I remember from before she went to college." Dustin huffed, throwing his backpack on the couch in the Wheeler basement.

"Seriously, Mike! It's the first day and we already have homework due by the end of the week!" Lucas exclaimed, rummaging around his bag for the sheet that contained the details to the homework. Max and Jane coming down the stairs not too long after, clearing off the coffee table, to start on their work.

Mike rolled his eyes at their exasperations, looking to Will for some leveling. Will sighed, shrugging. "I got to say I'm with them on this one, I thought she would take it easier on us. I mean she babysat us for the the entirety of elementary school, and like half of middle school."

Mike groaned, and Dustin jumped in. "That's it! That's exactly it! This is payback for all the times we were shitheads!"

"Jesus H. Christ, I have to buy like a lifetime supply of apples to make up for all the shit we did!" Lucas rubbed his hands over his face.

"You dickheads need to stop being so dramatic its literally just a 'What I Did This Summer' essay." Max finally chimed in, Jane nodding along beside her.

"Homework is still homework, Mayfield." Dustin snarked back.

"And, she's the only teacher that gave us homework." Lucas added, matter o' factly. "Not even Will and Janes brother gave us homework!"

"Well, it's probably because he didn't have to deal with us as much." Will supplied, trying to defend the other Wheeler.

"Pota-toe, Po-tato." Dustin huffed, opening his notebook to a blank page to start the essay. "Speaking of teachers, did Argyle let you guys hold his class pet? The bearded dragon, what was it's name Lucas? Wasn't it like a vegetable, or something?"

"It was pineapple!" Lucas supplied, moving to sit next to Max, using his phone to try and take a picture of what she already had written on her paper.

"The art teacher that got up on the desk was actually kind of entertaining." Will added.

"His hair was too long." Mike added, grabbing a Rubik's cube off the counter before he sat down.

"I liked his hair." Will smiled, "I think he's gonna be a good teacher, I'm glad I convinced you guys to join."

"I can grow my hair longer, and better than he can." Mike grumbled from the floor beside Will.

"I liked Mr.H's hair better." Jane added quietly.

"Oooohhh, yeah, I totally agree, Jane!" Max nudged her, as the two whispered something else to each other.

Lucas rolled his eyes, "Alright, his hair was decent, at best."

"Someone's peanut butter and jealous." Dustin mumbled under his breath, narrowly dodging the figurine Lucas chucked at him.

"I have a feeling he'll be giving us a lot of homework too." Mike added.

"Eh, I know he seems the type, but maybe he'll go easier on us, 'cause we're freshmen." Lucas shrugged, Will hummed in agreement.

The group worked diligently until dinner time, parting ways, with a majority of their essays close to being done.

-

The next week, Dustin waved down Lucas and Max as he locked his bike into the rack, waiting patiently by the front doors.

"Is that a- Weird Al shirt?" Max asked as they approached. Lucas stifled his laugh behind his hand.

"Yes, his biopic is coming out soon! The one starring Daniel Radcliffe! Also, don’t be jealous, because I actually have taste, Mayfield." Dustin huffed, as he turned to walk into the school.

"If that what you'd like to call it, sure." Max grinned, as they followed Dustin to their first period.

"Weird taste, I'd say. Get it, Max? Because, it's Weird A-" Lucas nudged at Max's side.

"Yes, Lucas, very funny." Max snarked, as she set her bag down by her desk.

The party shared first period together, which was English. Then, half of them went to Math with Mr.Byers, and the other half went to Argyle, for science. Then vice versa. They then shared art together, then lunch, after that half of them went to PE, and the other half went to band. For their final class of the day they shared history.

Dustin watched Mike almost doze off in first period, and quickly kicked his seat, so his sister wouldn't give him a weeks worth of detention, in only their second week of school. 

The group walked out of first period, grumbling about another assignment, parting ways down the hall. Max, Lucas, and Dustin had Argyle, and Mike, Will and Jane had Mr.Byers.

The groups passed each other in the halls, Lucas quickly repeating to Will what the lesson was about, and Mike doing the same for Dustin.

They regrouped in Mr.Munson’s class for Art. Aprons were placed on each seat, and Mr.Munson was setting out fabric paint, and markers in the middle of each table as everyone walked in. Everyone filed to their seats as soon as the bell rang, Mr.Munson stood before the class, explaining that this period they'd be decorating their aprons for the year. "Put whatever you want, be fun, be creative, but "make it school appropriate"." Mr.Munson rolled his eyes, as he used air quotes, and a mocking tone for the last sentence. He took a deep breath, before bringing his hand up to his mouth, leaning in closer to the class for a stage whisper. "Or, don't, I'll pretend I didn't see it." Mr.Munson clapped to dismiss the class, and then moved behind his desk to work on some sketches.

Dustin walked up to Mr.Munson’s desk about halfway through class. He cleared his throat to get the mans attention. Mr.Munson looked up, eyes scanning over Dustin’s face, then landing on his shirt. "Is that a Weird Al shirt?"

Dustin nodded wordlessly, ready to defend himself.

"That's bold, I respect it." Eddie nodded as he spoke, looking back at Dustin now, who was beaming at the comment. "How can I help ya, kid?"

"I was wondering if you had anymore puffy paint." Dustin asked, handing Mr.Munson the empty bottle. Mr.Munson nodded, as he grabbed his keys, and moved into the storage room. Dustin heard him rummaging around, before he came back out with a new bottle of yellow puffy paint, handing it off to Dustin, sending him back to his desk to work.

Dustin took a step back, watching curiously from the slight opening, as Mr.Munson knocked on the connecting door to Mr.Harrington’s room, before Mr.Harrington appeared. Dustin watched as the two conversed, jumping slightly when he felt someone kick his leg.

"Dude! What are you doing still standing? Will needs the puffy paint." Mike whisper-shouted from his chair.

Dustin grumbled, sparing one last glance at the storage room, just as Mr.Harrington was shutting his side, and Mr.Munson was walking back into the room, bright smile on his face. "I was observing!" Dustin hissed back, sliding the puffy paint across the table to Will.

"What exactly could you be observing?" Lucas asked, reaching for the red fabric marker.

"Mr.Munson was in the storage room-" Dustin started, in a quiet tone, glancing to the desk where Mr.Munson sat.

"Yeah, duh, he doesn't just carry all his extra art supplies in his apron pockets." Max added, taking the red marker from Lucas, before he could cap it.

"If you would let me finish." Dustin groaned, "He went back in there after he got me the puffy paint, and knocked on Mr.Harrington’s door."

"Maybe he needed to borrow something?" Will suggested, with a shrug.

"That's the thing," Dustin looked around the table, holding his friends attention now. "He came out of the storage room, empty-handed!" He whisper-shouted.

"What are you getting at?" Mike questioned.

"Nothing, nothing, I'm just observing." Dustin replied, hands up in mock-innocence.

"Mr.Harrington is probably just still showing him around, he's practically the school's welcoming committee." Max added, handing off the purple puffy paint to Jane.

"Maybe, I say we just stay observant, maybe we can hang around after the bell, stall a little bit, see if Mr.H comes by, for Mr.Munson." Dustin finished, casting one more glance to Mr.Munson.

When the bell rang, the group was slow to clean their area, purposefully mixing up caps, and calling out the other to fix it, slow to wipe down their table, the markers kept somehow rolling off the table, until it was just the six of them, and Mr.Munson in the classroom.

Mr.Munson finally moved towards the table, "Hey guys, lets try and get a move on it, so everyone can get to lunch on time, here I'll help."

The party was quick to try and refuse his help, all six talking at once, spewing out different excuses.

"Alright, alright, I'll just wait by the door." Mr.Munson exclaimed, "But, please try and pick up the pace, I-"

"Munson, I told you to meet me-" Mr.Harrington stopped, looking between them, and Mr.Munson.

"Hang on, Mr.H. I got a couple student still cleaning up." Mr.Munson turned away from them, and made his way to Mr.Harrington. "You can just put the tools on this back counter over here, we'll put them up when the room clears."

Dustin turned to look at his friends, gesturing towards the two teachers. "I told you!" He mouthed.

They finished quickly, and ran out the door, nearly being knocked over by Mr.Harrington who was carrying a 2x4. "Woah, let's try to be careful, and watch where were going. Almost got you guys with this." Mr.Harrington instructed softly.

"What's with the wood?" Lucas asked.

"Mr.Munson asked me to help him put up hooks for your classroom aprons." Mr.Harrington answered with a smile, as Mr.Munson came out to grab the 2x4 from him.

"You guys should get to lunch before all that's left is mystery meat." Mr.Munson butted in, giving the crew a pointed look.

The group nodded, rushing down the halls. "No, I told you!" Max slightly shoved Dustin, as they rounded the corner. "Mr.Harrington is just really, really nice."

"Max does have a point, I overheard Nance telling my mom how much of a help Mr.H was when she was setting up her classroom. He spent the entire afternoon helping her rearrange all the desks until she was satisfied." Mike added, grabbing a lunch tray. "Mom thinks he’s a real dream boat too." Mike added with an eyeroll.

"I think they would be cute together." Jane added, after they got their lunches, and found a table.

"Who?" Will questioned, as he handed off the cherries from his fruit cup to Mike.

"Mr.Munson, and Mr.Harrington." Jane replied matter o' factly.

"Jane, don't be ridi-" Lucas was cut off by a swift kick to his shin, by Max.

"No, I think she has a point. They make for a cute bromance." Max nodded reassuringly to Jane, before taking the pickles from Lucas' sandwich.

The group fell into an easy discussion afterwards about the latest campaign Will was working on.

--

Eddie was biting his lip raw, watching Steve hold the board in place, drilling it in place, spare screw held between his lips. Eddie tried to imagine what his flexed arms must've looked like under the stupid knit sweaters he wore . Eddie didn't even register Steve calling for him, until he turned to face him, waving a hand in front of his face. Eddie jumped slightly, apologizing.

Steve smiled, holding out his hand to Eddie that held the screws he didn't use. "Could you bring over the hooks now?"

Eddie took the spare screws from Steve's hand, and went back to his desk to grab the hooks they would use. Eddie waited patiently beside Steve, handing him each hook as he needed it.

Once all the hooks were up, Steve started helping Eddie place all the student aprons in their appropriate sections. Steve took a step back, hands on his hips as he admired the work. "We make a good team, Munson."

"I owe you like a weeks worth of lunch, Harrington. I'm useless with power tools." Eddie joked, moving to clean up the saw dust on the ground, Steve following with the dust pan. Eddie really wasn't bad with power tools, growing up and helping his Uncle Wayne with all the repairs the trailer ever needed, but how could he say no, when Steve looked so eager to help. He had ran to their shared supply closet, and pulled out his new drill to show Eddie, the second Eddie mentioned needing to put up racks in his room.

Steve now kneeled down in front of Eddie, holding the dustpan in place as Eddie swept the dust in a neat pile. Steve looked up at Eddie as he continued their conversation. "Does it have to be lunch? I can go for a couple dinners." Steve smiled up at him.

Eddie had to constantly remind himself they were in a school setting, whenever Steve was in compromising positions like this, and saying suggestive things like that to Eddie. Steve was just being a bro, a bro that happened to have the most beautiful hazel eyes Eddie had ever seen, hair that he constantly stopped himself from running his fingers through, and a face that has now made it’s way into Eddie’s sketch book. Eddie was looking too into it, he was sure that was the case. Still, Eddie couldn't stop the blush that crept up his neck. Eddie really needed to keep his cool.

"I don't mind doing dinner, Harrington. We should think about inviting the rest of the teachers in our hall too!" Eddie was quick to add, "Nancy, Johnathan, and Argyle all seem pretty close to us in age. It would be cool if we all went out together, y'know some staff bonding time! You could bring Buckley too!" Eddie finished, as he swept the pile into the dustpan gently.

Eddie tried not to think too much of the way Steve deflated at the suggestion. "Yeah, staff bonding sounds fun." Steve sighed as he stood, walking to drop the pile in the trash. "Any suggestions?" Steve asked, as he stood by Eddies desk.

"My friend Gareth mentioned this bar downtown, we could see if everyone wants to do that?" Eddie answered, moving to place the broom back in the storage room. "I'll ask Johnathan, and Argyle, if you ask Nancy, and Robin."

"Sounds like a deal, let's do it after the first month of school, as like a celebration, maybe we can turn it into a monthly thing." Steve suggested.

"I like that idea, I'll be sure to mention it to the guys when I talk to them." Eddie responded.

"Hey, I don't mean to cut this short, but I have to run and finish up some copies before next period." Steve explained, as he walked towards Eddies closed door. Eddie nodded in acknowledgment, and waved as Steve ran out.

Staff bonding, really, Eddie? Eddie groaned to himself, plopping down on his spinny chair.

***

the kids are introduced now! this part feels a little shorter than the rest, sorry :( i hope you guys are liking this as much as i like writing it, i can’t wait to upload more. thank you again for all the notes :)  i am having an awfully hard time coming up with a title hahaha

taglist: @little-gae-shit @ineffablecolors @menace-behaviour @hardboiledleggs @toobluebrunette @bye-zai @panicatthediaz @munsonsduchess @thing-a-ling @swimmingbirdrunningrock @jestyzesty @cutepumpkin4 @flustratedcas @teelagurl558 @electrick-marionnett @beckkthewreck @alienace @shinekocreator @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @bidisastersworld @gay-little-bitch @booksandsience @korixae @afewproblems @henderdads @mightbeasleep @winterbuckwild @yournowheregirl @steveisabicon @milf-harrington @overhillunderhill @ thatonepotatochild @uwujinniee @gregre369 @tiny-enthusiast @eboyawstenn @anaibis @vlada-elya @vampireinthesun @grtwdsmwhr @djo-time @theysherobinbuckley @straight4joekeery @nonbinary-eddie-munson 

[skyeeuphixia]

𝚕𝚒𝚙 𝚐𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚛 // 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔

lip gallagher x girlfriend oc (Delilah)

summary: in which lip is given an ultimatum

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warning/s: alcoholism, violence

words: 3.4k

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"I don't like it when you're drunk Lip. Find me when you're not."

That was the last thing that Delilah said before leaving the Gallagher house. 

Lip stayed glued to his spot as he stared after his girlfriend, his eyes filled with nothing but regret. He couldn't turn around. He couldn't face his siblings, or Kev or V, all of them stood behind him. 

He didn't want to see Veronica judging him. He didn't want to see Kevin looking shocked. He didn't want to see Debbie sad. He didn't want to see Carl and Ian angry. 

But most of all...

He didn't want to see Fiona look disappointed in him. 

2 years ago, when Lip asked Delilah out on a date. Fiona gave him one piece of advice:

'Don't fuck this up, cause that girl is special'

But now he's afraid he had done just that. 

How did he let himself get to this point? 

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After building up this reputation of being the family genius, it was a real smack in the face when he got to college and realised how difficult it was. Suddenly he wasn't a genius surrounded by stupid and average students anymore, now, everyone was smart, smarter than Lip, and he found himself unable to keep up.

College wasn't as easy as Lip believed it would be.

Lip excelled in school, acing every class, scores so high and consistent that a college professor believed he was a cheat (which Lip swiftly disproved) and the first Gallagher to get into college. 

Not to mention, he didn't realise that College would take up a lot of his free time as well. Sure in high school he'd get homework, but it would take about 30 minutes, and then he'd get the rest of the day to himself. But college was an entirely different story. He was drowning in assignments, a never-ending stream of readings, essays, and exams. He barely had time to sleep. Trying to balance; College, Family issues, assignments, a relationship and taking care of his basic needs were proving difficult to manage. And it was beginning to take a toll on him. He was almost never able to relax.

But the occasional drink did seem to help, however.

"Hey, so I was thinking-" Delilah says, walking alongside Lip in the direction of his class, Delilah went to the same college as Lip, unfortunately, their classes were at different times, so their schedules rarely lined up, they stayed in different dorm buildings and those dorm buildings were at opposite ends of the large campus.

"-after my class, either I can go to your dorm, you can come to mine or we can go to the library or something and do some studying together. Cause I have an essay to do, and you have that essay due tomorrow which you'll probably want to go over, and we can help each other out," she suggested with a smile.

"Yeah uh, I can't I'm going to that party tonight," Lip says his hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking down at his feet as he walks.

"The frat party? But you hate people like that," Delilah remarked, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Yeah, but, it might be fun. Plus, free booze is a good way to forget about all the jerks," he chuckled.

"But what about the essay?"

"Don't worry about it, Del," Lip replied nonchalantly.

Delilah stops walking, tilting her head as she looks at her boyfriend, analysing him intensely. Lip takes a few moments to realise that she's no longer beside him, he turns to look at her but she speaks before he has a chance to question her.

"Have you even started the essay?!"

"Yeah, yeah of course I have," He excuses, looking back down at his feet. Delilah walks back up to him, standing directly in front of him.

"Look at me," She says, still staring at him intensely, causing Lip to reluctantly raise his head to look at her. "Have you started the essay?" 

Lip had one weakness and that was Deliah. Delilah seemed to be the one person he could not lie to. He didn't want to say it out loud, she already knew the answer, he could tell, so he simply shook his head at her. 

Delilah looked at him with an indescribable look of shock, disappointment and disbelief, "Lip it's due tomorrow! This isn't like homework, this will affect your grade!"

"Yeah I know, but I'll...I'll get it done I swear!" Lip promises.

"So you're not gonna go to the party?"

"Nah I'm still gonna go I promised my roommate but I'll just do it when I get back,"

"Lip...this really isn't a smart idea, please just come study with me," Delilah begged, she already knew his grade was currently at a D, and she was worried that missing this essay would be the beginning of the end. 

"Del...I'll, I'll just go for like an hour, and I won't drink and I will go straight to my dorm and do the essay," He tells her, looking at her genuinely. 

Delilah looked at him with a look he couldn't quite describe, but it was the look she gave him when he initially doubted going to college and the look she gave him when he briefly dropped out of high school. It was the type of look that said 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.'

"Promise?" She asked, holding out her pinky to him, causing Lip to chuckle at the gesture.

"I promise," He locked his finger with hers, and they continued walking toward Lip's class, sharing a small smile, their words no longer necessary.

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No drinks turned into one drink.

One turned into two.

Two into four.

Four into seven, until Lip woke up in his dorm the next day with no memory of how he got there. A quick look at the clock indicated to him that it was two in the afternoon. Not only had he not done the essay, he hadn't even shown up to his lesson. 

Lip just lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wallowing in his own self-pity before there was a knock at the door. Somehow, in his severely hungover state, Lip got himself to the door, opening it to reveal Delilah, whom he let in without question. 

"Hey, Emma mentioned her boyfriend told her you didn't show up today, you ok?" Delilah inquired, her concern evident as she stood in the middle of the dimly lit room.

Lip, battling nausea, managed to mumble, "Yeah, just uh...not feeling great today." 

Delilah, however, was beginning to notice the telltale signs – Lip was wearing the same clothes as the previous day, avoiding the light streaming through the window, and his breath reeked of alcohol. The pieces fell into place. "Are you hungover?"

Lip, still battling the pounding headache and the queasy feeling in his stomach, attempted to conjure up an excuse, but Delilah's perceptive gaze left him feeling exposed. He scratched the back of his head nervously. He shifted uncomfortably under Delilah's gaze, his attempt at avoiding eye contact was now more conspicuous than ever. He cleared his throat and mumbled, "Hungover? Nah, it's not that... I just had a rough night's sleep, you know?"

Delilah's expression remained sceptical. She was no stranger to Lip's occasional indulgence in alcohol, and she was also aware of how alcohol affected his family so she knew all too well what could happen if he overdid it. Her concern deepened as she approached him, placing a hand gently on his arm. 

"Lip, you're wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and you look like you haven't seen daylight in a while. And why does your breath smell like a distillery if it's not a hangover?"

Lip sighed, realizing that he couldn't keep up the charade any longer. He looked down at the floor, feeling ashamed. "Okay, fine," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had a few drinks last night, and then a few more, and... I messed up, Delilah."

"Lip, you promised me you wouldn't drink, especially not on a school night. I trusted you. And what about that essay you were supposed to finish?"

Lip's guilt was written all over his face as he tried to avoid the confrontation. "Look, Delilah, I know I messed up, but it was just one night, you know? I didn't think I'd end up like this."

"Lip you're not in high school anymore. You can't do this. If you keep making mistakes, if your grades continue to slip, you'll get expelled and then what? Love, you have so much potential, you can do so much with your life, why are you wasting it?"

Lip finally met her gaze, and he could see the disappointment in her eyes. "Delilah, I promise, this was a one-time thing I won't let it become a problem. I messed up, and I'm really sorry. I'll work harder, I'll catch up on the essay, and I won't let this happen again."

Delilah looked at her boyfriend, she didn't know how to feel. She wanted to believe him, and part of her did, but part of her was screaming at her not to believe him, part of her believed Lip was already in too deep, but Lip was as stubborn as they come as if he would ever admit he needed help.

"ok...I'm choosing to trust you,"

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As the days passed, Lip's descent into a pattern reminiscent of his father became increasingly apparent. The vibrancy that once characterized him began to fade, replaced by a weariness that settled in his eyes. His dishevelled appearance mirrored the neglect of his responsibilities, and the promise he made to Delilah seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

His academic life suffered the most. Lip was back to his high school ways, and started missing classes regularly. The threat of expulsion from his professors became a persistent shadow, hovering over his academic career. Lip's disregard for his education mirrored the same lack of concern that had marked his father's life.

Alcohol, once an occasional escape, became a daily crutch. It wasn't just about relaxation anymore; it was a way to numb the growing dissatisfaction and disappointment within him. The scent of alcohol clung to him like a familiar companion, and the lines on his face deepened as the weight of his choices pressed down.

Delilah, consumed by her exams and unaware of Lip's unravelling, found herself distanced from the person she once knew. Their interactions became infrequent, and Lip's excuses for his absence grew thin. She knew something was wrong, but she was busy and was never able to find a time to meet him, and over text, it's hard to tell what state someone's in, so Lip was able to perfectly mask his drinking through the protection of a screen. The promise of love and support now seemed like a distant memory.

The similarities to Lip's father became more pronounced. The cycle of self-destructive behaviour, a pattern Lip had sworn to break, now threatened to consume him. The downward spiral was not just about missed classes and too many drinks; it was a reflection of a deeper struggle within Lip—a battle between the person he aspired to be and the shadow of his father that loomed over him. But every day he still told himself the same thing.

I'm not my fucking dad. 

When the next break in the college term came, he returned home to his siblings, which was both nostalgic and haunting, as he realised how much he loved it yet didn't want to be stuck there. And how did he handle those haunting thoughts? By drinking of course. 

The Gallagher siblings noticed this of course, but they wrote it off as Lip destressing after a long college term, after all, they didn't know this was an everyday occurrence for him. He's lip! He's supposed to get out, he's supposed to be ok! He's fine!

And for the first few days he was, he was able to fall under the radar as his siblings dealt with the usual Gallagher chaos and was currently drinking a beer on the couch as his siblings did their own things around him. Yet he had forgotten something, in a drunken haze a few nights previous, he had invited Delilah over, reality was about to smack him in the face, and he had no idea.

When he answered the door and saw Delilah, he felt his mind running at a million miles an hour. He didn't know why she was there. What she wanted. If she could tell he was drunk. His mind was both blank and full of thoughts at the same time, and the sudden shock of his girlfriend being stood in front of him, made all the guilt he had been drinking away come back.

"Del! Hey...uh what are you...what are you doing here?"

"You invited me? You don't remember?" She chuckles.

"Sorry sorry, things have just been uh, crazy you know how it is here, come on in." He says, stepping to the side to let her in. 

Delilah offered a faint smile as she stepped into the chaotic Gallagher household, where the usual mayhem of the family's daily existence continued unabated. Ian was nowhere to be seen. Frank, was ranting about some new get-rich-quick scheme in the corner to Kevin. Fiona and Veronica were cackling about the events of their last night out. And Debbie and Carl were arguing about something stupid. Lip's siblings had become accustomed to the chaos, and so the presence of his girlfriend had gone unnoticed.

"I tried to call and check it was still okay for me to come over but you didn't pick up, I thought I'd come anyway though...I've missed you"

Lip's heart sank at the sincerity in her voice. He had no idea how to explain the disarray of his life to her, especially now that she was standing right in the middle of it. His attempt to mask the smell of alcohol on his breath with a forced smile was feeble at best.

"Missed you too, babe," he mumbled, his words slightly slurred. "Sorry, it's just a bit chaotic here, you know how it is."

Delilah nodded, seemingly understanding, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. She had always been perceptive, and something about how Lip was acting didn't sit right with her. Delilah finally at Lip more closely, her brow furrowing. "You seem...off, Lip. Is everything okay?"

Lip tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, just... you know, dealing with the Gallagher circus. It's uh...it's been a long day."

Delilah wasn't convinced, but she let it slide for the moment. However, as she continued to talk to Lip, the pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together. Lip's slurred words, the distant look in his eyes, and the fact that he was clearly trying to hide something were all red flags. Delilah notices the two empty beer bottles on the coffee table in front of the couch, the one place nowhere else was and the final piece slides into place. "You're drunk again...aren't you?" 

Lip's eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for a convincing response. "Drunk? No way, Del. I mean, yeah, I had a couple earlier, but it's nothing. Just needed to unwind, you know?"

Delilah's concern deepened, and a mixture of disappointment and hurt flashed across her face. "Lip, we talked about this. You promised me you wouldn't let alcohol become a problem again. What's going on?"

Lip could feel the weight of his broken promises pressing down on him, and he struggled to find the right words. "It's not a problem, Del. Just a couple of drinks. I've got everything under control."

"Don't lie to her," Ian's voice suddenly came from the stairs, in a tone so cold so...displeased, it caught the attention of everyone in the room.

"What do you know Ian?" Lip slurred slightly, becoming slightly agitated as all the attention in the room was now on him, there was no hiding from the truth now, and Lip knew it. 

"What do I know? I know that since you've been home you've drank up to 5 beers a day, some days more. I know that it's clearly a problem if you're lying to Delilah about it. I also know that you've missed almost all your classes and you're on the brink of being kicked out of college!" 

Everyone in the room stared at Lip a few people letting out a shocked 'what?!', except for Delilah who just looked hurt, she trusted him...and he broke it.

"How do you fucking know that?" Lip slurred, pissed off that his issues were being exposed. 

"You left your email on your laptop open," 

"You had no fucking right-" 

"Ok! Lip this is not the right time for this, if there's a problem we can talk but right now let's just leave it," Delilah says sweetly, almost as if she was talking to someone younger than her as she places a gentle hand on his shoulder, which Lip only shrugs off.

Lip's anger flared, fueled by the alcohol coursing through his veins. "You had no right to snoop around my stuff, Ian! This is my life, my business, and I don't need you or anyone else judging me!"

Ian's expression remained unyielding, his concern masking any irritation he might have felt. "Lip, this is everyone's business when it's affecting you like this. We're your family, and we care about you. We don't want to see you self-destruct."

Lip's voice grew louder as he tried to defend his actions, his words slurring together. "Self-destruct? I'm fine! I can handle a few drinks, and missing a few classes is not a big deal. College is overrated anyway."

The room seemed to grow tense as Lip's rant continued. Fiona, his older sister, exchanged worried glances with Ian. Delilah, however, remained remarkably composed in the face of his anger. "Lip, I'm not here to judge you. I'm here because I care about you. But you can't deny that something's not right. We can work through this together, but you have to be willing to admit that there's a problem."

Lip's frustration only mounted as he felt cornered. He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You're all overreacting. I don't have a problem. I can stop whenever I want. You all don't get it," he ranted, his voice rising. "I can handle my shit. I'm not like Frank. I'm not some fucking alcoholic!"

Delilah could see that Ian was also starting to get heated, and she was worried that he and Lip would begin to get physical and fight one another. She knew Lip's defences were up, she knew he felt judged, intimidated, and guilty, and having everyone there was making things worse for Lip, not better. 

"Ok, maybe this isn't a conversation we should be having with so many people," She chuckled nervously her voice still gentle, She moved closer to Lip, trying to defuse the tension. "Love, let's just go outside, and we can-"

But when Delilah's hand touched Lip's shoulder, he reacted with more force than he intended, shoving her away, unintentionally causing her to hit the wall. The room fell silent, and everyone took a defensive step closer, their faces reflecting shock and anger.

Lip stared at Delilah, his eyes widened with regret, realizing he had acted impulsively. Delilah, after a moment of anger, looked down, composing herself. She glanced up at him, restraining her tears.

"I don't like it when you're drunk Lip. Find me when you're not." Her voice quivered slightly before she swiftly made her way out of the Gallagher house. 

Lip stayed glued to his spot as he stared after his girlfriend, his eyes filled with nothing but regret and tears. He couldn't face his siblings, or Kev or V. He didn't want to see the judgment. He didn't want to see the shock. He didn't want to see the sadness. He didn't want to see the anger.

But most of all he didn't want to see the disappointment. 

It took a few moments, but he turned around to face them, his body trembling slightly, as a few tears escaped his eyes, the Gallaghers distraught at the sight of their broken brother.

"W...why did that happen?"

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(fin)

[taylorswift-imagines]

She pranks you

Nearly every day of your life, there was always someone there for you to prank and the last victim was your girlfriend, Taylor Swift.

You should’ve known just how willing she was to have returned the favor, doing it in a way that made you both feel horrible. While Taylor spent her day at the studios, you spent yours at home working on that essay for your college course. Taylor didn’t just spend a day at the studio only focusing on her music, she was also focused on coming up with a way on how to prank you back after the last prank you pulled on her.

It was a harmless prank, all it involved was you and a piece of scotch tape placed on the hose of the kitchen sink. When Taylor got up in the middle of the night for a drink, that was when the prank was executed and Taylor wasn’t too happy about it afterwards. Taylor had another long day ahead of her, so of course she wasn’t going to be happy of the fact you pranked her yet again. She didn’t find it amusing as much as you did, if not at all. The idea Taylor had come up with as a way to prank you was to delete your saved essay on the computer and make it up to you in the end. Just as she expected, you were right where she had left you, layer back on the couch with your feet resting on the arm of the couch, laptop in your lap as you were typing away. Taylor smiles as you spare a second glance at her from your screen.

“Hey Tay..” you greet, just before jumping off the couch for the bathroom.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“The bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

But Taylor doesn’t let you leave the room without giving you a hug and sets her plan into action after hearing the bathroom door shut.

However, Taylor makes a last minute decision to livestream this prank. Turning on the livestream, Taylor begins to fill in her audience on how it’s going to work.

“Alright guys, I’m about to prank my gif by deleting her essay. I don’t plan on saving any of it, but I have a way of making it up to her in the end so don’t worry.”

After explaining, Taylor highlights your essay before hitting the back button as it disappears and does the same to rest you have saved right as you come out of the bathroom. It wasn’t until you sit back down and get ready to type some more did you realize it was no longer there, you begin to panic. You were devastated and wanted to cry, but as soon as she admitted to it is when you allow the tears to sleep as you begin to ask her why. Tears continue to fall, making her feel more guilty than she already was in that moment.

Taylor begins to apologize.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). I was trying to prank you back.”

“Couldn’t you have done it in a different way?” you sniffled.

“Yes, but I didn’t. I’m very sorry.”

“That’s not going to bring it back if you have deleted all of my savings!”

“Well, I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

You had never been this angry towards anyone, and you hated that it’s directed towards Taylor. But at the same time, you were understandably upset.

You were too upset to even care anymore.

“Well, I know a site where you can pay someone to do write your essay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, let me show you.”

Taylor was right, but even though you were still getting your essay done, and more easily, you still weren’t happy about the way she had pranked you and started thinking of ways you could get her back for it.

You spent all the next day thinking of a way to get her back for this.

Payback is a bitch after all.

***

@taylor-loves-you

[yuyu-writes]

let's go to the beach (beach) [18+]

[ kinktober 2023 ] day 3 - size difference

⟡ haikyuu!! -- matsukawa issei x reader

⟡ wc: 3,137

⟡ working from @/darling--core's kinktober list! NSFW, 18+ only!

⟡ summary:

Matsukawa gets over you once he graduates.

Little did he know you would follow in his footsteps, and this time he'll be greedy.

Archive of Our Own

Matsukawa Issei doesn’t know what to think of you when you first meet.

You’re a cute first year who joins as the team’s manager, and sure, he has a cute innocent crush on you because you’re just so sweet and kind to him, but he doesn’t pursue it knowing he’s graduating in less than a year.

He thinks it’s unfortunate, hugging you tight to his chest as you congratulate him on the day of graduation, surrounded by spring cheer and raining sakura petals. Maybe he holds you for a second longer than it is socially acceptable for friends to hug, but you seem to welcome it, clinging to him tighter as if to keep him there, with you. 

He lets go, regretfully, and he doesn’t say anything more.

And then, he’s off to college, letting go of all of his little fantasies and expectations that featured you as the main actress.

Time passes. The familiar song and dance repeats and repeats and he finds himself back on campus for his third year of university. He’s gotten through with new little crushes and hookups and learned more about himself and reality as he barely juggles his academics and life at the same time. 

You’re almost completely gone from his mind. It’s always hard to forget the first ones, but he’s ninety-nine percent over you.

What he doesn’t expect is for that one percent to hit him back, hard. As in, you barrel into his life once more, grown up and so much more confident than you before as his meek, quiet junior. And how could he ignore you, when you call his name with that same sweet voice, looking up at him with your big doe eyes as you smile so brightly at the fact that Matsukawa attends the same university as you. 

He can’t say no, and the story repeats once more with a few revisions.

Matsukawa loves volleyball, but it’s not enough to chase after a regular spot on the school’s team, so he settles for joining the much more casual intramural league. It’s not hard for you to tail behind, taking up an organizer’s position per his suggestion. 

Despite the two year difference between you, friendship comes easy to you as it does breathing. There’s only a slight awkwardness that lingers when you officially meet up for the first time, but once he pats your head and smiles at you, the one where his eyes crinkle and he looks at you gently, you realize it’s the same as before.

Of course, some things are different now. 

(His mind wanders more often than not though–he can’t help it, not when you’re wearing that skirt and sweater combo that makes your legs look amazing.)

But now, he finds himself in a study room, nestled in the halls of your dorm building as he watches you work on your essay, jotting down notes to the side as you furrow your eyebrows in concentration. In front of him, his laptop is open to his latest assignment and he has only skimmed through the instructions, favoring the view across the table in the form of you.

“Oh, are you going to the intramural’s retreat next weekend?” you suddenly ask, looking up from your papers and locking eyes with him.

“Hm, not sure yet. I saw that forms were due by tomorrow though. Are you?”

“I think it’d be fun! Plus, I finish up my midterms early next week, so it’ll be like a little reward!”

“Heh, if you pass them,” Mattsun jokes, and you slap his arm with an offended “hey!” He recoils, acting as if it hurt. “Ouch, with that strength, you should’ve joined intramurals.”

“Just fill out that Google Form. I’m passing them and we’re going.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—

Matsukawa already feels blessed enough to have seen you in casual clothes. Sure, the Seijoh uniform was cute and all, but the tracksuit for volleyball practice wasn’t the best outfit to show you off. Entering uni, your outfits were various and plenty, showing off all your sides. His stare lingered far too long on you when you weren’t looking, desperately burning them into his brain.

But this—he wonders what good karma he had done to deserve this.

You’re in a cute pink bikini, one with white frills around the edges that makes you look so, so sweet. Fuck, the universe is testing him, and he’s pretty confident he won’t pass. 

“Mattsun! Over here!” You wave him over, clutching your tote bag closer to your side as you wait for him to reach you. “So? Isn’t it cute?” You twirl around once, graceful, as if you’re in a ballgown rather than a bikini, and he has to avert his eyes when he answers, too distracted by the cut of the bikini top along your cleavage.

“Cute. Is it new?” he asks, and it’s a safe question that he thinks of in a split second. Thank god he didn’t voice his thoughts out loud, or he would’ve been done for.

“Yeah! I got it before the semester began and only wore it once for a pool party!” 

A few intramural members pass by, cheering as they rush through the sand towards the water. They nudge at Matsukawa, and you take his hand. “C’mon! They’re leaving us behind!”

He follows you, dragged helplessly by your gentle tug and his eyes locked on the way your fingers are laced with his own. It’s another image—a feeling that he tries to etch into his mind, rather than the blue sea just a few feet away. 

You don’t stop, slowing slightly to drop your bag next to the other organizer’s beach towel and you continue your sprint, urging Matsukawa to run beside you as he simply laughs. A shriek escapes you as your feet hit the water, the cold splashing against your legs as it reaches you mid-thigh. You clutch his arm to your chest, and his own heart rate spikes at the feeling of your plush chest.

You’re talking about finding seashells and whatnot, but all he can focus on is the way your bikini fits your ass, how he could swipe a finger and tease your folds and make you a mess in just mere moments. Crouching down, you start to reach into the waters, searching through the sand for anything of interest, completely oblivious to Matsukawa’s inner conflict. You look back at him briefly, noticing his pursed lips, his eyes trained on you, but not quite your eyes.

And then you see the bulge in his swimsuit. Your heart jumps to your throat, and for a split second you wonder if it’s just because of the water rippling around his hips that causes his swim trunks to look like that–

Nope. nope. It’s not just the water, it’s not just your eyes playing tricks on you.

He blinks, and then his eyes flit to yours, following your gaze and he suddenly coughs into his fist, averting his gaze and lowering himself slightly into the water.

“S-Sorry.  It’s nothing.”

Part of him hopes you just turn away, but the other part of him, needy for you after all this time, hopes you don’t. 

Actually–Fuck it, he’ll make the first move.

He steps forward, one, two, and he’s just centimeters away from before he’s pressing himself against you. You jump, ready to whirl around but he grabs your hips to stop you from moving.

“Do you feel it? What you do to me?” Matsukawa says lowly, pressing your hips closer to him. It’s hard against your ass, and you’re trying to calm your nerves.

You won’t let me run away from you again.

“W-What do you want to do about it then?” You ask, with a flare of confidence that fills you as you experimentally grind back against him.

His eyes flicker between you and somewhere past the shoreline, and this time, you let him take your hand.

——

“Wait—Mattsun—What if someone comes in?”

He kisses you deeply once again, tongue swiping against yours as he swallows your moans and pushes you back against the wall. His breath ghosts over your lips. “No one’s going to come in, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“But–” He shuts you up again, easily overpowering any attempt of you pushing him away as you melt into his hold, jolting with a muffled moan when his fingers find their place in between your legs. They find your clit quickly, his index and middle finger circling around the sensitive nub, making your hips jolt as you grasp at his forearm. Moans fill the empty changing room—the ones that are farther away from the parking lot—but the possibility of someone coming in makes you more excited, much to your horror.

Matsukawa doesn’t seem to mind by the way his swim trunks do a poor job of hiding the bulge between his legs, and as a wave of excitement washes over you, you reach for the hem to pull them down.

Your jaw drops.

Faintly, you remember the times when the Seijoh boys would joke about dick sizes and what not as they left the locker room back in high school, and one of the most memorable points of that conversation you recall is that Mastukawa was, according to Oikawa’s words, “unfortunately, most hung.” You remember slapping Oikawa for being indecent, and Iwaizumi slapped him much harder to echo your sentiment.

He wasn’t lying.

“That won’t fit.”

“Don’t give up until you’ve tried,” Matsukawa jokes, one of his hands coming up to comfortingly pet your hair. “But if it really scares you, we don’t have to go that far.”

“No… I want to,” you reply quickly, eyes still glued onto his length. The tip is flushed red, and all coherent thought escapes you as your eyes trail down its length. You reach out for it, hovering over it and ask, “Can I?”

“Go ahead, princess.”

The pet name makes you shiver. And you wrap your hand around his cock, feeling it warm under your palm and fingers, a wave of satisfaction washing over you as Mattsun groans and closes his eyes in response. You’re barely able to wrap your fingers around it, and you experimentally stroke it, pleased when his hips stutter and he leans down to press his lips to your hair.

“Fuck, princess, keep going,” he groans, his voice a low rumble against your forehead. Spurred by his response, you go down to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes. You continue your ministrations, leaning up to press a kiss to the head of his cock, and Matsukawa moans at the sight.

“Shit, can’t believe you’re so naughty like this,” he says, watching you press another kiss to his length, tongue swiping over it as you lick the pearl of pre-cum off the tip. “When’d you learn to be so lewd?”

“When you left,” you breathe out. “Didn’t want anyone else, only you.”

Something burns inside Matsukawa when he hears those words—you’ve saved yourself just for him, followed him to his university, and it’s safe to assume it’s because you’ve always felt the same way for him. 

He feels like he’s won the lottery. 

You take his cock into your mouth, fisting the length that you can’t fit past your lips, and he grins, wide.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he hurries to say, cupping your face and gently pulling you up to your feet again. “Next time, I want you like this. But I need to be inside you, now.”

You don’t argue back, instead, nodding eagerly as you lean over so your hands rest against the bench edge. His hands find your hips easy, and he ruts against you automatically, his cock fitting perfectly against the curve of your ass, aching to be inside of you.

“Tell me when to stop,” he whispers against your shoulder. “Be honest with me, I don’t want to hurt you, alright?”

You look up, meeting his gaze through the mirror. His eyes are hooded, filled with lust and hunger, but he’s dead serious, and you nod, speechless. A hand gropes your ass and you mewl, clutching at the bench as your thighs squeeze together.

“Be honest.”

“I-I will,” you manage to say, closing your eyes when you feel a finger brush against your folds as he moves the bikini to the side. There’s something even more thrilling about being exposed with the bikini shoved to the side, rather than taking off your bottoms at all, and it makes you warm all over. You gasp suddenly when his cock nudges your sopping cunt, and you bite back a moan as he pushes in.

You inhale sharply—despite prepping with his fingers, it’s still big—both length and girth. He goes slow, watching your reaction carefully like a hawk as he pushes in. He stills.

“Are you ok? Breathe for me, darling.”

You let out the breath you were holding, but you can’t help but clench tighter around Issei, making him grunt at the sudden movement.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me,” he says into your shoulder, breath ghosting over your back. “Loosen up for me. I’ll make you feel good, promise.”

His hand wanders up to your chest, cupping at your breast before he toys with your nipple, gently flicking at it with his finger and relishing in the way your back arches and your meaning loudly for him once more.

With a few more pauses and sweet nothings whispered in your ear, you feel Issei’s hips flush against your ass, and the thought of his cock filling you up as you dizzy with lust.

“You feel that?” Matsukawa whispers. “Look at you.”

You bite your lip to stifle a moan and you turn your head to look at the mirror. His hips are right up against your ass, and your reflection looks absolutely wrecked as she stares back at you, stars in her eyes and little gasps escaping her swollen pink lips. Matsukawa, on the other hand, is absolutely glowing, the light on his sweat sheened skin making his muscles ripple as he holds your hips with his large hands, his hair falling against his face as he stares down at you with a heavy lust filled gaze.

You clench again, and he groans.

“Gonna…Gonna break,” you stutter out, half delirious by the sensation of his cock stretching you impossibly wide. 

“It’s ok if you do, I’ll take care of you,” Matsukawa murmurs, eyes glued where he and you are connected. The hand on your ass squeezes, and you feel his thumb circling your opening, as if admiring the way he’s stretching you, intoxicated by your body and all of its sweet reactions to his touch. He moves, sliding in and out of you slowly, observing you for any indication of pain. When you do gasp, he stills immediately, asking if you’re ok before he continues his slow pace. 

“I don’t think I’ll last that long when your cunt is squeezing me so tightly,” Matsukawa breathes out. “Fuck, if I knew you’d take me so well I would’ve done this back in high school.”

It hits a chord in you, and he grunts again when you clench with a gasp.

“Did you want this too, princess?”

“Y-Yes, always wanted you…it’s so much bigger than I imagined—” your voice breaks into a gasp when Mattsun twitches inside you. His palm is splayed out across your back where it arches, clenching uncontrollably around his thick cock.

“Imagined? I’ll make sure to go beyond your imagination, then.”

It’s the only warning he gives you before he starts moving his hips, rutting into you in punctuated movements. With each thrust, you feel yourself pushed forwards, your body going numb with pleasure as he hits all the spots that drive you insane. Warmth coils at your gut, tight and building as he drives his cock deep inside of you—your skin tingles with excitement. Suddenly—

“N-No Issei, don’t!” Your cries drown out the rest of your protests, and Issei grins against your shoulder, pressing harder against your stomach, right below your bellybutton where he can feel the tip of his cock drive into you. His other hand cups your tits, squeezing and fondling them before he slips under your bikini top, pushing it to the side to find your nipples easily, flicking and twisting them between his fingers.

Fuck, fuck—fuck your cunt is so tight around him and your wanton moans are for his ears only. He wasn’t lying earlier—even he’s impressed with how long he’s been able to hold back, but he feels the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching, the warmth burning tenfold when he sees how absolutely undone you are by his own hands.

“Say my name, baby,” he gasps, your given name falling from his lips. His fingers draw frantic circles around your clit.  “Tell me who’s gonna fill you up.”

“I-Issei!” you cry, voice stuttering into a long keen. You’re absolutely gone, blissed out and desperate to reach your climax. “Issei, gonna cum—gonna—!”

He cuts you off by slamming himself deep into you, driven over the edge by the moan of his given name and nearly tipping you over as he pulls your hips closer to him. You have no doubt his cum is filling your cervix as he pulses inside of you, and you're shuddering around his cock, riding out your own orgasm as he presses his thumb against your clit. Ecstasy is all you feel, your limbs gone numb as Issei holds you up, squeezing your hips as he stills, making sure you’ve taken every drop of him. 

With a shaky exhale, Issei pulls out, hissing at the feeling and instantly eyeing the way your pussy convulses before his cum leaks out of you in fat drops, painting your cunt and clit white before it falls onto the floor. 

“Look at how messy you are,” Issei tuts, crouching down and lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze through blurry eyes. “Hey, stay with me. We have a lot to catch up on, and we’ll start by cleaning you up first.”

When he lays you down on the bench so your upper half is against the wood and your legs are spread out for him, you vaguely wonder if you should let the rest of your team know that you’ll be late for dinner.

All thoughts are thrown out the door as he takes his place in between your legs, spreading your thighs open as the first swipe of his tongue licks up the mix of your cum and his.

[chad-enigma]

Jaime Reyes (+Khaji) Headcanons ↓

(Unless specified these are all based off Jaime from the 2006 issues)

Everything's under the cut to avoid clutter!

He has birthmarks. So many birthmarks. The most noticable ones are; two over his left brow, one under his bottom lip and another on his right eyelid. He has a lot more but their less prominent in comparison. They all come from Bianca who has just as many but they're in less obvious spots.

He has a bad habit of working in the dark because after so many complaints about the light bill Khaji just gives him night vision. Which has the consequence of others finding him working on essays in the pitch dark like a cryptic. His vision doesn't change much besides a slight green tint that the night vision adopts so he rarely notices the difference until someone points it out.

He gives the suit appendage (?) Fist bumps when they do a good job <3

Watched Naruto religiously as a kid and will drop lore bombs unprompted if anyone mentions the show (Paco is a constant victim)

Adjacent to this he also watched Digimon and prefers it to pokemon (this is mostly out of spite because Milagro would hog the TV to watch reruns and he'd miss his shows).

His hair gets longer after graduation. It just happens while he gets busy with college and this new chapter in life. Khaji suggests it give him a haircut but Jaime decides against it and keeps the hair just below the shoulder.

He and Khaji practice the body swap thing a lot more after life calms down. They don't have a system just yet. Khaji helps Jaime with cooking because despite Bianca trying her best, her son is still a clutz in the kitchen. The furthest Khaji has gone is taking control of their limbs to keep Jaime safe from mundane accidents.

He knows how to speak a little Japanese and German thanks to Khajis' help now! He figures the more he knows the better and practices in his free time.

Khaji burns his flannels at one point and sets a rule that Jaime can only wear flannel twice a week. His fashion sense isn't that great yet but he's trying <3

His taste buds have gotten used to bad foods. Only because of Khaji who's demanded the most atrocious combinations of ingredients during emergencies for the energy and he didn't have a choice but to down them.

Khaji clicks with Brenda a concerning amount and they scare Jaime a bit.

When they do both feel comfortable with taking/giving up control of their body, Khaji makes it a habit of tying up their hair in a half-up half-down style. It also has a habit of using eye make up (a habit it gained when it first landed in Egypt). Khaji replicates the products himself, since the prices are outrageous. + Brenda finds out and considers Khaji her make up dealer.

Since Khaji first fused with him–and since Khaji has made some 'adjustments'–Jaime has a tendency to sleep in weird positions. Face down planking with his arms hanging off the sofa, upper torso hung off the bed, twisted like a pretzel so his back muscles stretch. It scares whoever finds him like that the first time.

Jaime gets called mom a lot by any younger heros/vigilante as a joke (some of them mean it). He'd try rebutting them but he catches himself fretting over them and accepts his fate. (Alberto says he's a lot like Bianca in a lot of ways)

He figures out he's bi only after graduating. He doesn't do much with this information though; just collects a bunch of hero crushes over time. Khaji complains about him not getting laid yet and Milagro tries to set him up with the worst people she can find.

That's it for now! A lot of this is word dump based off of different ideas that have been filling my head for a while now. I hope it's coherent enough! More than willing to keep going if asked just hmu <3

[shuyamino]

LUXIEM IN COLLEGE

pairing(s) : ✒ ،، mysta rias x reader | ike eveland x reader | vox akuma x reader | luca kaneshiro x reader | shu yamino x reader

content : ✒ ،، SFW | college au | fluff | headcanons + blurb | gender neutral pronouns | meet cutes, for the most part

summary : ✒ ،، You're attending Nijisanji University and meet a couple of interesting characters ...

note : ✒ ،، my 100th post, ayoooo!! some of the details here are from my own experience in uni, which hopefully adds more realism to it :3 i'm currently working on 3 longer wips, so ive been a bit slow with writing. i hope this makes up for it <3!!!

SHU YAMINO AS THE TECH SUPPORT ʿ ⟢

SHU is works at your campus' Genius Center — which is just a fancy way of saying the college IT workers. From what you remembered, they help out with various of tech-related services. Which is perfect for you, after your laptop suddenly died one night.

You basically ran into the campus support center the following morning and thrusted your laptop into the nearest Tech Support you can spot — this essay was due that evening! You knew you shouldn't have procrastinated, but you did anyways.

Shu wasn't too shocked about your actions — by now, it was fairly normal to have various college students panicking in the lobby. He holds your laptop, voice calm as he asks you what the problem is.

You're rambling a bit too much. Jumping around topics and making a flurry of hand movements. But he's nodding along, lips still curved to a comforting smile as he leads you towards one of the desks in the small building.

Once you finish your explanation, he has your laptop open and clicking away at the keyboard.

"Um — s-so, can you fix it?" You ask quietly, peeking over his shoulder to look at your laptop screen.

"Well, it looks like you have a... couple of viruses." He answers, craning his neck just to look at you from over his shoulder. "You said you had an essay due soon?" You nod, lips pursed.

"Well… I can help fix up your laptop but if you had your essay saved in a Drive, you can borrow a laptop here and finish it up." You thank him as he heads to the back to get you a campus-issued laptop.

For a good chunk of that day, the two of you sat in this corner — him, trying to fix your laptop and you, trying to finish the rest of your essay.

SHU abruptly stops to stretch his arms up above his head, groaning slightly as he fixed his posture. You'd gotten more than half of your essay finished — thankfully you had the foresight to save all of your online references in a separate outlined document. Since you ran to the tech support building the moment you woke up, you didn't have time to eat breakfast. It wasn't long until your stomach began to protest that mistake. Your cheeks burn red as your stomach groaned — just loud enough to catch Shu's attention. His eyes glance over yours, lips slowly curving to a warm smile. "I...was thinking of taking a coffee break, do you want to come grab something with me?"

It isn't until much later after he helped fix your laptop that you find out that the campus tech support doesn't help students with their personal laptops.

Nor do they take them out for coffee.

MYSTA RIAS AS THE CLASS CRYPTID ʿ ⟢

MYSTA is a student that you thought was failing your shared course — he was fairly late the first day and looked like he rolled out of bed before running to the lecture hall.

He sat beside you at the back corner of the lecture hall after being sternly reprimanded by your professor. He didn't seem to be bothered by it, if anything, it looked like the scolding went in one ear and out the other.

The rest of the semester continues like this. Since it's a general edu class, you're not quite sure what his major is. There were some days when it looked like he was doing comp sci work. Another day when he was reading an online textbook about primates (Anthropology, maybe?). And there were even some slower days when he would just sit and watch anime with a pair of discrete Airpods.

There were some days when he'd notice you staring and he'd turn on subtitles and tilt his laptop towards your direction. Other than this, the two of you rarely spoke to each other. Just small talk at most — it was easy to joke with him, at least, but other than that, you didn't really see him outside of this lecture hall.

Least to say, you've grown morbidly curious about him as the semester progressed. There were a few things that you knew about him — he seemed to like the color orange, if his clothes were anything to go by, and he liked anime. In addition to these facts, you were fairly certain that he was failing this class.

So, imagine your shock after receiving the results of your first exam and you spot a clear 100% on Mysta's paper compared to your 69%.

MYSTA must have noticed you staring because his head snapped up from his exam paper directly to you. You jump slightly, startled at getting caught staring. His eyes trail down to your paper, lips curving slightly at the red mark on your paper. Just as you're about to accusatorially ask him what he was grinning at, he points at the number with a laugh. "You got a 69!" Your jaw slacks because it wasn't exactly what you'd expected to come from his mouth, all the while he keeps laughing about the funny number. You're sat there with an absolute deadpan expression all the while the oh-so mysterious classmate laughs at your score. Not because of how badly you'd done — no, he's laughing because it's a sixty-nine. "Aw, don't pout." Mysta says, wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes. His voice lowered, edging slightly towards a mockingly condescending tone. "I can help you study for the next test, if you want~"

The "study session" actually just consisted of watching more anime and eating.

IKE EVELAND AS THE CAMPUS LIBRARIAN ʿ ⟢

IKE works in the campus library!

He's known for being very friendly and approachable. Any and all anxiety disappears the moment you see him. He just has a really comforting vibe! Students that tour first years around campus make sure to tell them about Ike Eveland. ("If you ever need help around the library, find Ike!")

Ike often works behind the counter on the first floor, but there are moments in which he's putting books back where they belong in the other floors of the library.

You frequented the library — mostly taking advantage of the air conditioning, the tables and comfy chairs, and the quiet floor to take naps in during your free time.

When you weren't studying or finishing up course work, you were usually just sitting around the quiet room to take a nap or just have some downtime from your hectic classes and loud campus.

Despite this, you haven't really spoken to Ike. You never had to, anyway. But you have heard of him — more often than not, you hear people around the other floors whispering and giggling about the cute librarian on the first floor. It doesn't take a genius to know who they were talking about.

The first time you meet him was by pure coincidence.

"Stupid book…" You muttered, already standing on your toes as you stretch your arm up above your head. It wasn't even placed on the highest shelf — just a shelf above your reach. None of the step stools were around either, leaving you to fight this alone. Just as your fingertips managed to reach the book's spine, another hand came into view and easily pulled the book out from the shelf. Your head turns, ready to thank your savior, before you realize you're basically face-to-face with the one and only — "Y-You...!" You stammer before you can help it. IKE tilts is head slightly, seemingly unaffected by the distance between the two of you, or the lack there of. His torso is brushing against your back and you're basically caged between his body and the bookshelf. Your heart thrums against your chest — the loud drumming filling your ears as your cheeks fill with heat. "Sorry, it looked like you needed help." He explains, as he holds the book out for you. You close your mouth, hoping that he didn't notice the way your jaw slackened at the sight of him as you wordlessly take the book from his hand. You're fixing your hair before you can help it — a nervous habit at most. The others weren't exaggerating at all, you think, as you sneak another glance at Ike. He is just as pretty as most people say — kind eyes with long, pretty lashes and a kind smile. Is it a little weird to note that he smells like vanilla too? "I'm still around here for a bit, if you need any more help you can come ask me, okay?"

VOX AKUMA AS THE NEW PROFESSOR ʿ ⟢

VOX recently graduated from grad school and is starting his first year as a professor in Nijisanji University! You're lucky enough to be able to attend his first ever class in your last year as an undergrad.

He's teaching English Literature and even while most students are taking this class to fill in for their general education, he expected the lot of you to still take his class seriously.

It's an hour and thirty minute long class and he spends the first few minutes just talking to the class and reading a short poem every Friday.

Even though it's his first time teaching, he's really good at explaining concepts and various analysis. In addition to this, he's very attentive to what the class (and individual) needs.

It's hard to think that it was his first time teaching, not gonna lie.

On top of his attentiveness, Professor Vox was both pleasing to the eyes and ears. It wouldn't be an over-exaggeration to say that he became a fairly popular professor to the entire student body.

As easy as this class was for the most part, you were still struggling with being able to analyze and connect some literary devices.

So, seeing the bright red C- and a 'Please see me after class', in your latest exam wasn't much of a shock

Professor VOX didn't seem disappointed when you approached him at the end of class — if anything, he seemed concerned. You tried to ignore the wary looks your classmates gave you when you approached him though. It was already embarrassing to get such an awful grade, even weirder knowing that your classmates are imagining some weird porn scenario in their head right about now. He greets you kindly despite your grade and is already packing his things up for the next class. You're nervously fidgeting with your thumbs — you've always hated having to talk to professors about your grade. No matter how kind they were. "I'm really sorry," You start, before he can start his 'I'm-not-disappointed' speech. Vox's eyebrows quirk, before his lips curl to a comforting smile. "I just…I kind of understand everything — " "There's nothing to apologize for," He cuts you off with a small wave of his hand. "If anything, I want to be the one to apologize. I should have noticed one of my students struggling." Your heart skips a beat. It's unfair for him to be handsome, attentive, and kind. Your cheeks flush before you can help it — a deep flush that makes you sweat a little under his gaze. "I-I think it's just hard to connect these kinds of things for me." You explain, hoping that your voice doesn't come out too high pitched. "It really isn't your fault." Vox seems to mull it over. "Well, I won't force your hand on the matter, but if you'd prefer, I am open for one-on-one tutoring sessions."

LUCA KANESHIRO AS THE DORM CUTIE ʿ ⟢

The dorms were co-ed, though the male and female rooms were separated in different wings. When you first started college, you were required to live in the dorms.

Bumping into the opposite gender wasn't anything odd, though you'd be a liar to say that you didn't have moments of confusion upon seeing some rando standing about by your dorm room.

You meet LUCA on your way to one evening class — an unavoidable class, unfortunately, if you want to stay on track for your 4-year graduation. You bump into him past the common room, where he's making a sandwich.

You don't recognize him right away, but he does you.

"Oh hey!" He calls out, holding a sandwich in his hand. "I remember you from orientation. Where are you going?"

He seemed friendly enough, so you explain to him where you were heading. It wasn't until a few seconds into the conversation that you realize that he was in your orientation group. His name was at the tip of your tongue — Leo? Luke? — Oh, right! Luca.

LUCA blinks, looking confused when you explained to him where you were heading — almost like it didn't even cross his mind that people would take classes this late in the evening. You stare back, more or less confused about his reaction than anything else. He reminds you of the typical frat boy — wouldn't be too surprised if he did end up joining a fraternity after living in the dorms. Broad shoulders and a big build. And his thin white shirt isn't doing much to hide the dark tattoos on his chest. His medium length blonde hair is messily tied up too, like he'd done it in a hurry to make his sandwich. He is cute though. "Well, I should go." You say, pointing towards the elevator. It was the first day — or, evening, you guess — and you really didn't want to be late, even if it meant being able to talk to someone like Luca. "Oh, wait! I actually have somewhere to go right now. Is it cool if I walk with you?" Luca asks, still smiling brightly with his sandwich. You can't help but squint at him. It was clear that he wasn't planning on going out anywhere. He must have noticed your suspicion because he quickly adds, "It's late, you know. We can keep each other safe!" You realize then what he was hoping to do. You couldn't help but beam at him; your lips curling to a wide smile. You agree to his offer, deciding to play along with his excuse. Just this once. His own face lights up at your response. His response reminds you of a giant giant golden retriever. "Pog! Lemme jus' grab my jacket."

[endlesslysleepdeprived]

Rivals With Benefits

Fandom: Gotham

Ed Nygma x Fem!Academic Rival!Reader

Cw: College Au, tall reader, suggestive, no smut tho, Y/n is kinda rude. Ed is a cocky bastard, think like he already was kind a like the Riddler in high school.

Word Count: 4.1k

They had gone back and forth like this for the last week. Each time their little quips and witty comeback became more frequent, their stares more intense, Edward was starting to get the feeling that he had made a mistake. He had underestimated her and now he was paying for that assumption. Now, with every interaction came a little twinge of… worry? Excitement? He didn’t know what it was but it was becoming unbearable. Every time their eyes met, he felt this tug at his stomach, that he couldn’t ignore.

"What are you looking at Nygma?" Y/n asked looking at him coldly, making sure he wasn't cheating off of her.

He raised an eyebrow at the question. Her tone suggested annoyance, but there was still that hint of something else lingering behind her eyes. A secret that he would love to see her keep until she slipped up and told him willingly. “Nothin, thought you could use the help.” He smirked smugly in response hoping to get a rise out of her. He’d make her angry and then he’d see how far he could push her before she broke.

"We both know you're the one who needs the help Nygma," she said fixing her hair, seeing his blood boil for a second.

Her response gave him a little pause. He found his confidence taking a dip as his eyes searched her for some sign of weakness, some hint as to how to get her to lose her temper. But as his eyes drifted across her face, he could no longer deny that twinge in his belly. Every time his eyes met hers, he was reminded that there was something different about her and as each moment of uncomfortable eye contact passed by, the more he wanted to see her face again. “Is that so?” He couldn’t help it, his voice had become low, borderline a growl.

"Yes, as my essay is done and your's isn't," She said bluntly pointing to his blank paper. "Get to work." His face was a picture of cool anger as he stared her down. Her gaze was unwavering, he had to respect her for that. She wasn’t intimidated by his bluster. “Or what?” He asked just as calmly as he could manage.

"Well the essay is due tonight at, 11 so I guess you fail the assignment." Y/n had a slight smirk on her face highlighting her tired features. She looks like she lives off of coffee and spite

Ed took out a folder with an essay showing her that he had finished it. Y/n read his essay without his consent or knowledge. "And it's absolute shit," she said smiling at him condescendingly enjoying the rise she gets out of him.

“Oh, why don’t you do it better then?” He asked with a grin, knowing that the offer would strike a nerve, she would hate having to accept it. He waited for her to reply, his smirk still upon his face. This little contest was the most fun he’d had in a while, and it wasn’t for the simple fact that he was losing. His eyes had started to be drawn to her face even outside of the competition. There was this certain… attractiveness in her boldness.

Y/n gave him her essay. She watched his jaw drop from being so impressed by her work. "Jim was right, she's amazing at this." Ed muttered to himself. Y/n took a swig of her energy drink.

He looked up at her in stunned silence, he had to admit she did a far better job than he did. He could feel her eyes burning into his back and he tried to act like he wasn’t impressed by her work. “That doesn’t mean you weren’t a pain in my ass today!” His attempt at saving face was as flimsy as a wet napkin and he knew she could see right through it.

Y/n took her essay, stood up and patted his shoulder. "Bye, Nygma. Have fun with your C." She said walking out the door to the campus library.

Her casual dismissal left him seething with annoyance. The fact that she had taken her paper before he could even ask left him feeling wronged. He stared after her in rage and he swore he saw that smirk again. The audacity, after seeing him basically fail she now walks away without even showing the slightest consideration for the work he had done.

He clenched one hand into a fist as he tried to control his rage, he only succeeded in digging his fingernails into his flesh. “She doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.” He muttered to himself as he gathered his own things to leave. Ed chased after her not letting her get the last laugh.

She heard his running feet getting closer and closer to her, but she ignored it. Until he grabbed her arm and whirled her around. She tried to fight to get free but quickly realized that strength wise he was in a different league. She stared up at him, her expression one of annoyance, her cheeks were flushed with anger. “Are you fuckin' insane, let me go!” Her tone was sharp with frustration.

"Nygma, get a hold of yourself," she said even though she was as tall as him, doesn't means she's as strong. She tried to twist her arm out of his grip, but nothing she did was enough to free her from his grasp. She stared at him with disdain not fear, though she had to admit a small bit of fear did seep into her stomach as his grip tightened. “I’ve got a hold on myself.” He said with a smirk, his hand slid up her arm as he stepped closer.

"No ya' have a hold on my arm," she said angry at him. Her Brooklyn accent coming out.

He pulled her closer, their faces only just a few inches apart as his other hand crept up towards her waist. She could see the lust in his eyes and feel his breath against her face. His hand brushed against her waist ever so lightly and he leaned in, his lips hovering close to hers, but not touching. She could feel something stirring within her, a heat rising in her core. She looked in his eyes. "Ed.." This was the first time Y/n had ever called him by his first name.

Their eyes met, the tension building between them. It was that moment of truth. All or nothing, he wasn’t going to let her go so easily, not before having a taste. He leaned in a bit closer, his lips just barely touching hers, enough to feel their touch but not enough to actually kiss. He pulled back slightly and looked down at her for a moment before leaning forward again this time a bit more forceful.

She kissed him back passionately. "This is a place of learning we shouldn't be doing this here," Y/n said softly. She was right, this was a place of learning. Perhaps that was why he had been hesitant with her. His mind had been telling him it was wrong and it was, but for some reason, as he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her, the world fell away and he only had eyes for her. The passion that he felt for her was intense and he didn’t want to stop. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private.” His voice was hushed as he whispered into her ear.

"I know a place." Y/n dragged him into an abandoned classroom. "This should work."

It took him a moment to react to her pulling him into the abandoned classroom. He couldn’t help but feel some slight amount of suspicion, but whatever she had in mind he was on board. He looked around the old classroom, seeing the faded chalk markings on the wall. It looked like someone may have used the room for more than studies. “Are you sure we can’t get caught?” He asked with a smirk, not like he cared about the consequences.

"I study in here every day, and no one has found this place." Y/n said, her lips crashing against his.

He pressed her up against the wall of the abandoned classroom, the intensity of their kiss slowly growing. He let himself succumb to her kisses, his heart starting to race at just the touch of her skin. His hand reached up and cupped her jaw, running a thumb along her lips.

"God your good at this, Ed." she said, looking at him in the eyes and unbuttoning his first couple buttons of his shirt and kisses him.

He chuckled at her words, his heart seemed to be racing even more now as the intensity of their kiss grew. His mind slowly becoming foggy, the only thing in his mind now was her lips pressed against his. A moan escaped him as he felt the buttons being undone, his skin shivering in response to her touch.

"Good boy," Y/n said eating up the sounds he made. He groaned quietly as she continued, but he couldn’t help but enjoy it. Her words only heightened the experience for him, his eyes drifted shut as he felt her hand moving to his collar. He leaned into it, allowing her to have more control of the situation, he wasn’t going to complain about it.

"Needy aren't we today, Ed." She teased, leaving a hickey on his collarbone, easy to hide but they will know.

He gasped as he felt her bite down against his collarbone, he knew the mark she left would be easy to hide, but the knowledge of the mark he knew would drive him wild. Her words only made his lips spread into a smug grin as he looked down to her, her eyes seemed to shimmer as the light glimmered in them. “I’m many things… and needy isn’t one of them.” He retorted, his words sounding rather smug with a tinge of arrogance.

"Oh really now darling, I mean if you aren't needy, I could just leave right now..." she teased him, but he liked it.

A small bit of panic rose within him at the thought of her just leaving. He needed that feeling again, he wanted to revel in her kisses again. “No, please don’t.” He said, his words dripping with desperation. He had come this far, he couldn’t just let her leave. "As I thought," She walked towards him slowly.

His eyes followed her body as she approached, he couldn’t help but take in every curve it presented. She knew exactly what he was doing and it only made her smirk wider as he did so. The anticipation in his heart only grew more with each step she took towards him.

She was close enough he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face, and just like that she made her lips touch his again. His eyes drifted shut once more as she resumed her previous position. “I think you're the needy one.” He said, his voice was low and rich. "No, no, no I stand by my point you're very needy, Ed." Y/n said teasingly.

He couldn’t deny her assessment of him, but at the same time he didn’t care in the moment. His mind was clouded by her and he wanted nothing more than to feel her again. “Alright, L/n if you're not needy then why did you drag me here?” He challenged, his voice was bold, but there was no denying the heat in his words.

Y/n smiled at that statement. "Because, I wanted to and do as I please." He looked into her eyes as she spoke. She was right, she could do as she pleased and in this moment he knew exactly what she wanted. Her eyes were locked on his hand as it slid down to her waist, she was waiting to see what he would do next. “Well now.” His tone was low and husky, his eyes were filled with lust towards her. “Since I’m so needy, would you please let me kiss your neck? Would you please let me have a taste of you…” The words slipped out of his mouth and all he could feel was anticipation for her answer.

"Good boy, Yes you may" Y/n said in a sultry tone. She gave a slight moan as she felt his lip on her neck. He moaned quietly against her neck as he kissed her, he was enjoying the sweet sound of her moans. His lips pressed softly against her neck and his tongue ran along it teasingly. He bit down on it, just hard enough to feel it but not enough to draw blood, the sound of her moan only caused him to moan again.

"Well, there's no covering that one." Y/n said, wearing a v-neck sweater she couldn't hide that mark. “You’re damn right there isn’t.” His lips moved up along her neck, kissing it as he went. His body was pressed against hers, his arm around her back as he felt her body against his. He couldn’t control himself any longer, his other hand slid up along her thighs as he pushed her up against the wall of the classroom. “Is this what you wanted?” He whispered into her ear, his breath filling her ear with heat.

"It isn't what I planned but I don't mind" She said smiling, the chalk of her equations getting on her back. His lips moved up to her jaw again before he brought it down to her lips and kissed her deeply, his hand sliding up her body slowly. His teeth grazed her tongue as they kissed and he moaned passionately with each kiss. He let his hand move up to her neck again, his fingers grazing along the neckline of her sweater. “Well, if we are doing unexpected things I have a request…” He trailed off, his voice had a teasing tone with a bit of arrogance mixed in.

"Well ask darling, I'm not a mind reader." She said as he ran his fingers across the marks he left. “Well in that case darling, may I?” He gestured to her sweater. He raised his hand to it as if he was going to slide the sweater off. Her answer would most likely be an obvious yes given their current situation, but maybe she would surprise him. His eyes were on her now, waiting to see what she had to say.

"Maybe I should keep it on and tease you a little." She said, smirking at his blush at her statement. His shirt was almost completely unbuttoned and he didn't even consider wearing an undershirt today.

She must take great satisfaction in knowing that he was now getting flustered at his own actions. He scoffed, though he knew that he had been bested. “Ahh so I’ll have to beg a little, maybe give you a little performance for you to let me have what I want.” His tone was that of arrogance though he couldn’t help but smirk in the process.

"Oh you catch on quick, baby. Beg for it." Y/n said a sadistic look in her eyes. A little bit of cruelity never hurt.

“Ah so this is your game, I have to beg you huh?” He asked with a smirk. “Then I’ll do just that, on my knees just for you.” He dropped to his knees and looked up at her, his cheeks flushed with both shame and the desire that he felt towards her. “Please, I’m begging you to let me have this. Please!” He begged in a hushed voice, his tone mixed with desperation and lust. Y/n bent down and ran her hand under his jaw then forced him to look at her. "More." She liked this it felt good. Her arrogance getting to her head a bit.

She was forcing him to beg now, he felt as if he might just pass out from all the blood that was rushing to his face. He forced himself to beg even more, not wanting her to win. “Please, you have to. I need to, I’m begging you!” He whispered, he knew if she heard him begging like this it would push her to continue this longer. “Please, please, please, please!” He pleaded, trying to put on a desperate tone in his voice. She tilted her head in a questioning manner. "Please, what. What do you want to do Zeeskeit" She looked at him and his blushing face.

“Your sweater, I need to have it.” There was no mistaking his desperation now, his voice trembling slightly. This was a game to her but it was a war for him, every cell in his body wanted that sweater gone and it was up to him to convince her. He waited for her to say something, he didn’t even think about what he would do once he got the sweater off of her. The hunger he felt for her was the priority.

"And what do you want to do after?" She said, knowing that he had no plan but she was enjoying this sight way too much for her own good.

“I’ll figure that out once the sweater is gone.” He said, a smirk growing across his lips as he tried to hide his desperation in his voice. The hunger in his eyes grew as an idea came into his head. “How about I make you a deal?” His tone became more cocky and his eyes shifted around looking for a bargaining chip. Y/n considered it, she was curious about what he would say. "I'm a kind mistress, I'll hear it."

A smirk spread across his face as he saw an opportunity to make this a little interesting. “If I can guess your size, then I can have the sweater, if I’m wrong you can do anything you want to me.” He said, his tone daring her to accept his offer. He was confident that he knew her size well enough, he just wanted to spice this up some more. He was willing to make the game more risky if he had to.

"Alright, take a guess." It was a men's medium, she was almost always too tall for women's clothes.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment and did some quick math in his head. He felt as if he knew her measurements, but maybe this was just him being cocky. “Fine, let’s say a medium, I doubt it’d be anything more.” He said, there was a small bit of challenge to his tone as his smirk grew some more. "Men's or women's?" She asked.

He paused for a moment, he hadn’t considered that he would have to guess that as well. “Fine… men’s medium.” He said confidently, hoping he was right yet again.

"You're correct, I'm guessing because you're also a medium? Am I correct there." She said letting him take off the sweater, handing it to him. Now shivering from the cold air hitting her skin.

He watched as she started to pull the sweater off, his eyes were glued to the movement of the sweater, his body seemed to lean slightly towards her as well out of sheer desperation. There was a small smile on his face. “Correct, now I want a promise out of you though, if I win you do what I want.” He said, he wanted to be sure she would follow through with the terms of the game.

"Alrighty another guessing game, go ahead." She said wondering what his question would be and wondering if she'd allow it.

“What's your double major in?” He asked confidently. The air sent a chill down his spine and he felt his heart rate spike, but the thought of finally getting to see her shoulders made it all worth it. It would be nice if he could keep the sweater but he had a feeling she wasn’t going to give it up that easily. "Alright, but most people get it wrong." She said arms crossed for warmth.

He stared at her before answering, her body was perfect in his eyes. He couldn’t help but have a small smile creep across his lips. “How about… biochem.” He said, knowing that he was probably off the mark by a long shot.

"Ah not biochem, just chemistry." She said leaning against the chalk board. "I'll give you another chance, ask another."

He narrowed his eyes, not sure what to guess at this point. “Alright alright, I’ll ask you this then, how old are you?” He asked, maybe he could win this, but the answer she gave would be crucial.

"Take your guess, Ed." They were both freshman, but she was 19 and he was 18. Their birthdays were a few months apart.

He really wanted this and he was going to put his all into winning this game. He took a wild guess, he tried not to show the panic in his eyes as he threw this out into the abyss. “19.” He said, his heart starting to beat a lot quicker as he waited for her response.

"Yep, so you got my sweater what else do you want?" She says smiling. He was good at this, or really damn lucky.

As soon as the word left her lips his eyes gleamed with joy and he gave a loud shout of excitement. “Yes, yes, yes! I got it! That means I can do whatever I want, right?” He asked with a cocky smirk on his face. His eyes were locked on her now that he won, it was impossible to not notice how beautiful she was after seeing so much of her.

"Yes, darling. I will keep up my end of the deal." She said waiting for him to make his first move. He looked like a child on Rosh Hashana.

He laughed slightly, his eyes looking her up and down as he tried to decide what to do. “Well for starters, I’m not letting go of this sweater, it's mine now.” He smiled as he pulled her slightly closer, her body pressing slightly against his. He thought for a moment and let out a chuckle. “I want to keep the sweater. And, how about… this.” He leaned in and kissed her, his voice was cocky and his tone arrogant.

"I guess I'll have to wear your button up out of this classroom then. I can't go to advanced chem topless." She said and then kissing him back.

He moved his hands up and placed them onto her waist as they continued to kiss, he felt his emotions rush out for just a moment. Everything he felt towards her in that one second was the greatest feeling in the world. He pulled away slightly, a cocky smirk grew across his lips as he noticed her blush. “Oh no no, you couldn’t go topless, that would give everyone too much of a surprise.” He teased in a low tone, his eyes trailed down her body once again.

"Including your roommate." She said knowing that Jim Gordon liked her, it was obvious. Ed, Jim, Y/n, and Y/n's roommate Katya were all familiar with each other. Jim, Ed, and Katya being good friends from Gotham High School.

He looked at her with a smirk, he liked her knowing that Jim was into her. He felt a sense of rivalry towards Jim that made him that much more cocky. “Yeah, him too. Guess I will have to steal you away at your earliest convenience.” He teased, his voice was low, husky and almost growl like. He pulled away from her slightly, but his hands were still on her waist. “What about a date?” He asked, his question accompanied by a smile as he ran his hand down her thigh.

"I'll take it." Y/n's phone rang, it was Jim. She picked it up. "Y/n where are you we have that Lab today?" Y/n's eyes widened completely forgetting about it in the heat of the moment. "Right, give me 5. I was doing things for Biology, tutoring someone." Y/n lied through her teeth.

Ed heard the phone ringing and the look on her face made him smile. He knew as soon as the heat of the moment died down she would have to go, but that only made him want her that much more. He moved his head closer to her ear, his tone lowering once again. “I have to ask, did he sound suspicious of your answer?” He teased, his hand still grazing along her thigh.

"Not for a second." She said. "Give me your button down, you're keeping the sweater." Y/n said grabbing it off of him and buttoning it. She wrote down her number and gave it to Ed. "Call me. I guess we're now rivals with benefits." Y/n said leaving the classroom, and Ed looking stunned.

His eyes were glued to her figure as he thought. “Oh she’s definitely going to be one of the hottest rivals I’ve had.” he whispered to himself.

I hope y'all liked it, um if you want a part 2 just tell me.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

the lost letter {i.j}

plot: Indy left for a mission a few weeks ago and as you're tidying your shared apartment, you find a letter from him.

character; indiana jones x plus sized female reader

Part of my Plus Size History Professor x Indiana Jones series and part of my Plus Size Reader x Character series!

It's tucked away, forgotten about in a pile of books and coursework that Indy had been marking before setting off on his new adventure. Coffee spilled over it and abandoned half way through probably due to him spilling coffee over it. You'd only found it through cleaning his desk, clearing and organising his work for him so that when he comes home, it's neat and tidy for him.

You'd been cleaning to try and distract yourself from missing him. It was hard when Indy was away working overseas because not only did you miss him, you worried constantly because you had no way of knowing if he was okay or not. The stories he'd tell you when he came home, scraped and bandaged up, sounded horrific and it sounded as though he came close to dying a lot more than you cared to think about.

People use work to distract them from missing someone but how could you be distracted when your history students asked you about him all the time?

Professor, where's Doctor Jones?

Hey, Professor, where's your boyfriend? He off adventuring again?

Doctor Jones isn't in so I'm wondering if I could get your thoughts on my essay that I'm writing for his class? You know him best so I figure that you're the next best thing.

Yeah, it wasn't easy when you worked and lived with your boyfriend. You just hoped that he'd be okay, that he'd come home. He was due back in two weeks. Sometimes he'd manage to call if things were going to take longer, sometimes he'd show up a week earlier than planned; there was no strict pattern that his adventures followed and that was something you hated about his adventures. You just wished for some sign that he was okay.

And then you happened across the letter.

You would've just tidied it away had it not been for the scrawl of your name at the top of the page.

Dearest (y/n),

You're sleeping as I write this. I didn't want to wake you but I couldn't sleep - preparing for Kenya - so I thought I'd write this for you. I don't know if I'll even show you this so there might be no point of me writing this but who knows?

I know that you're worried. I know that you hide a lot of those worries from me, you don't want me to feel guilty about leaving you, but I think I'd actually prefer if you spoke to me about them more. Maybe I could help put some of those worries to rest, maybe I'd be able to help settle the war that you fight in your head. I suppose I'd like to better help you but I'll be honest, I don't know where to start which is why I'm writing this. Maybe the mad ramblings of a College Professor will soothe all of the worries you have.

Can I just say that you look adorable when you sleep? I just walked in to get my glasses and you're curled up, snoring and drooling onto my pillow. Beautiful.

You mean everything to me. You are worth so much more than you think you are and I just adore every single part of you. I love who you are; I love you compassion for others, I love how much you care not only for your loved ones but for your students, your friends, strangers. There are so many good things about you, (y/n), please take the time to realise these. You are capable of so much and I am so proud of you for all that you've accomplished with your career, it's an honour and a joy to watch you thrive. I love your confidence, the way you aren't afraid to be yourself, the way you just shine in everything you wear and do; you are incredible.

Whilst I'm away, please try not to worry too much. I know that you will but please try to remember that I'll be okay. Before I met you, I was reckless and stupid, to be honest. I looked death in the face more times than I care to admit to you and I laughed. I had nothing to lose. Now, I have everything to lose; my job, my reputation, my career but most importantly you. I promise you that I won't do anything stupid or reckless and I won't actively seek out trouble though it always seems to find me. I promise that I will try my hardest to stay safe. It should be a relatively easy job but you know how these things go.

I can't guarantee my safety and I can't promise that I'll come home in one piece but I can promise that I will do anything to get back home to you, that I'll do everything in my power to return home to you. I give you my word. I love you, (y/n), and -

He had written something else but the coffee spillage smeared them and you couldn't make it out clearly but you'd read enough now. Your eyes were teary but not from sadness; it was from sheer happiness. Indy hadn't told you about this letter and you would've probably never had found it had you not been tidying but my god, you were so happy to have found it. The relief you felt from this letter was immense. He couldn't promise that he'd return safely but you had his word and right now, right now that was enough.

Over the course of the night, you read the letter, examining every line and dot trying to soak it into your brain and etch it into your memory. It brought such a comfort to you, seeing his handwriting, seeing his heart (and coffee) poured onto the paper for you to see... You wished that Indy would return home to you now but for now, this lost letter was enough to get you through the next two weeks.

[hopeless-nostalgiac]

Find The Word (Love Themed)

Tagged by @mrsmungus,who's single-handedly keeping me connected to my writing. *hugs*

The rules are simple, find the given words in your writing (WIP, Published, a college essay - it doesn't matter) or something close enough (I think conjugating verbs and finding synonyms are both fair game) share an excerpt, and tag some friends and some new words to play too.

Words for me to find:

Affection, Heart, Kiss, Romance, Spark

Words for you to find:

Date, Kiss, Bed or Bedroom, Love, Promise

Tags to play: @loudlooks @indestinatus @television-overload @jeanmoreaux @wanna-be-bold

@pro-bee @mcgeekle and anyone else!

Affection

From After Midnight: “You are drunk,” she says, reiterating the fact for good measure.     His pliable lips stretch sideways in a silly smile that taps into the pocket of affection she’s long had for his sweet, playful side. “You’re drunk,” he accuses with a scrunch of his nose.  He is half right, and it’s so hot in the backseat, and she knows she should pull away, or push him away, backhand some sense into him even, but something in a momentary flash of sobriety over his expression keeps her from moving at all.

Heart

From Now Playing: They’d filled up a lifetime’s worth of heartache and turmoil and redemption in just a few short years, and it followed them—their collective history—like scars, souvenirs from battles fought both side-by-side and against one another. If their bodies got too close, would they see how well the marks lined up? If so, what would that prove about them? Something once, twice broken. Something messy and complicated… Something, Tony decided shortly after bringing her home, he never wanted to lose again. 

Kiss

From a WIP, New Year Normal: Tony sighed and held her tighter, dragging his teeth over the spot she’d kissed. “It’s definitely not how I thought we’d be spending our first New Year’s Eve as a couple, that’s for sure.”

Romance

From smiles that give you away: Now there were no boundaries. Personal overrunning professional. The endless volley of looks–ranging from playful to uncomfortably intimate–sent across their desks, seeming to convey more without words than with. Touches that lingered on arms and low backs and waists anytime they crossed paths, like two spies who hadn’t yet mastered the brush-pass–who no longer cared that their cover was blown.  McGee couldn’t have written an office romance better himself. (He’d tried.) But they still had jobs to do.

Spark

From Full Mischief: Tony held the butcher knife out to her, the green in his eyes sparkling like jewels. He was pleased with himself, clearly. As if this was his plan from the beginning. “Take a stab, sweetcheeks.”

[quinnsbo]

Paid Writing Commissions

Hi! My name is Quinn. I'm a college student and recently I thought I could make some extra money through writing. I've always been a writer and usually it's something I excel at.

I'm open to writing for your school assignments or for your own pleasure.

What I can write

Essays & Analyses

Poems

Short stories

Longer form stories

Your original story ideas

Your fanfic ideas (thru short prompts or detailed descriptions)

The more pages, the more it will cost.

I'll write just about anything. All works will be kept private unless otherwise stated.

For academic assignments, I need full information on topic, formatting, word count, and other rules I need to follow in order to give you the best grade possible.

I'm not willing to write your final thesis/dissertation for college/uni that you would need in order to receive your diploma. Too much pressure there. And very time consuming. :)

*I will have a notice in my account description for when commissions are open.

Prices and Notices

*There will be an additional fee if I need to do 3+ hours of research on short notice, typically $1.5 per hour with variations depending on the notice (ex. $4.5 for 3 hours of research the day before it's due, $12 for 8 hours of research 3 days before it's due)

if it's urgent and less than 5 pages, I can compromise on writing something the day it is due but there will be no promises

*The deposit is required prior to my writing of your commission. I will accept certain installments.

*If anything occurs that hinders my ability to complete your work, then I will issue a full refund.

*My formatting for determining the following will be: 12 pt Calibri, double spaced

Essays & Analyses

Tier 1 | 1-3 pages: $5 per page, ~1 day of notice required

Tier 2 | 4-7 pages: $8 per page subsequent to 3 pages, 3 days of notice required

Tier 3 | 8-12 pages: $13 per page subsequent to 7 pages, 2 weeks of notice required

Tier 4 | 13-20 pages: $20 per page subsequent to 12 pages, 1.5-5 months of notice required depending on number of pages

ex. 15 pages: tier 1 for 3 pages x $5 = $15, plus tier 2 up to 7 pages is 4 additional pages that are $8 each is 4 pages x $8 = $32, plus tier 3 for 5 additional pages that are $13 each is 5 pages x $13 = $65, plus tier 4 for 3 additional pages is 3 pages x $20 = $60, add them all up for $15+$32+$65+$60 = $172.

Poems

Tier 1 | any number of lines: $0.3 per line

Tier 2 | any number of stanzas: $2 per stanza

Short Stories, Long Stories, Your Original Stories, and Fanfictions

Tier 1 | 1-15 pages: $3 per page

Tier 2 | 16+ pages: $5 per page

Tier 3 | word count: $0.01 per word

Contact me through dm for any further questions, and please feel free to look through my page for writing examples.