#I only have like one math assignment to cram at lunch

[dinosaursmate28]

fire night. bought two new sweaters + a bracelet. went to Costco for basically the first time. played about 5 billion homescapes levels. painted my nails. my wisdom teeth swelling has gone down. now im rewatching series 2 derry girls on my projector and absorbing all that tumblr has to offer. I can feel the second semester glow up in my bones.

[a-cupof-jo]

Set Up My Heart Pt. 7

PT. 6 – PT. 7 – PT. 8

College volleyball player!Johnny Suh x reader

Rivals-to-lovers

Fluff and angst

Synopsis: Ever since that fateful day Sophomore year of high school, Johnny Suh had been an insufferable thorn in your side. Once you made it to college you thought the two of you would never have to see each other again. That is, until a sudden school transfer has the entire university buzzing

~~

Your breath caught as you pounded up the steps. The door slammed as you raced into the building and down the hall to your Chemistry lecture. You were very late. Maybe the professor won’t notice. With nearly 200 students crammed into a classroom, it’s a big class. You had stayed up late the night before cramming for a Finance exam you had later today. That means that you slept through your alarm and it wasn’t until Des was leaving for her class that you woke up.

You glanced around the classroom when your eyes settled on a recently familiar seat. Shimmying down the aisle you stepped up to a seat with a backpack sitting in it. The owner of the backpack looked up, “Hey, I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” Taeil tucked his backpack under his seat.

“Slept through my alarm,” you grumbled as you pulled your notes and a pen out.

 Taeil gave a sympathetic head shake but turned back to the professor. You had been surprised when you found out that Taeil was taking this class. The senior had told you the previous week that it was because he had pushed it off until his final year. He claimed he was fighting the system that told him that a science class was required for his music degree. ‘I get it’s a bachelor’s of science, but how is Chemistry going to make me a better musician?’

You couldn’t give him an answer, but then again you are a history major. How does it tie into yours? You glanced beside Taeil looking for Jungwoo’s unmistakable blonde hair. “It’s Wednesday,” Taeil muttered.

You lean back in your chair. That’s right mister mechanical engineering wasn’t actually a student in this class he only came in on Tuesdays and Fridays to make notes for students he tutors.

Taeil tapped your desk making you sit forward and stop pouting. “Focus so you know what you need to go over with Jungwoo tonight."

You pick up your pen and attempt to follow along with the professor. She was going too fast and instead of understanding what she was saying you sat there just trying to write down the calorimetry problems.

When the class ended you threw down your pen. Taeil reached over to pat your hand. "Rough morning?”

“Understatement of the century,” you shove your pen in your pencil case. “Woke up too late and I have no idea what’s going on in class. Plus I have a finance exam later today that I’m still not entirely ready for.”

“Well would coffee or lunch make you feel better, I have two hours before my next class. Or we could go to the library or a study lounge and we could try to get you feeling more confident?” Taeil waited for you to stand up from your seat. He watched as the next class started to trickle in.

You step out of the aisle and up to the classroom door, “What about both, we can grab something from the union and study there?”

Taeil grins, “That sounds great. You’re paying though.” You give a light shove as you both race out of the building. For a moment, you felt yourself relaxed as you chased Taeil through the quad.

“Watch where you’re going,” you heard a voice yell out panic laced through it. You glanced back at the voice coming from behind you before slamming into something hard. You felt your elbow catch as you tumbled to the ground.

You heard another voice grumble, “Dammit, how hard is it to pay attention to where you’re going. I have an expensive camera- of course.” An unmistakable voice scoffed, “Are you trying to cause problems, Y/n?” Johnny glowered as you turned to glare back. You hadn’t seen him in almost a week. You couldn’t say he was looking great. His eyes had bags and his hair was slightly greasy.

“Are you guys okay,” a taller male with pink hair skidded to a stop in front of you two.

Johnny brushed off his jeans, “No thanks to her.” He jerked his head toward you.

“Look here mister, I don’t know why you feel like you have to-” you were cut off as Taeil rushed into your eyesight.

“Y/n! I’m so sorry I didn’t realize that I had left you behind,” he grabbed your hands and pulled you up. You brushed off your shoulders as Taeil fretted over your state, “What happened? You were beside me just a minute ago?"

You nod to the two standing behind him, "I accidentally ran into Johnny."

Taeil glanced behind him and smiled when he caught eyes with the second man, "Hey, Taeyong, how’s it going?” You watched as the two exchanged pleasantries. Johnny shifted looking back down at his camera pushing several buttons before sighing. “We were just about to grab lunch at the union. You should come with us!” You watched as Johnny’s shoulders bunched up tight.

“Sure! Johnny and I were just finishing up here, so we could definitely join you,” Taeyong grabbed a bag that sat on a nearby bench. “Come on, Johnny!"

Johnny looked like he was going to protest. Taeyong grabbed the camera from Johnny’s neck and put it in the bag. Johnny sighed obviously not able to get out of this.

Taeyong grabbed a hold of Taeil’s arm before dragging him towards the union, "So you know I was thinking,” you heard Taeyong start talking about a piece of music with Taeil.

Johnny stepped up next to you, “Look,” he ran a hand through his hair, his face pinched. “I just wanted to say.”

“I’m not happy about this either so why don’t we just get this over with so we both can be on our merry way,” you snapped.

Johnny’s face morphed his eyes narrowed and his lips tightened, “Glad we’re on the same page.” He turned away from you and you finished your journey in silence.

~~

“We’re really happy with the track you made for us,” Taeyong smiled at Taeil from across the table. “Seriously I could never thank you enough."

Taeil waved him off, "I’m using it for my composition class. I’m just glad you guys are able to use it."

You turned to the book you had laid out on the table in from of you. The notebook sitting on top of it showing recent notes you had taken. You clicked your pen as you attempted to solve a math equation. The paper crinkled as you scribbled across it.

"You have to make sure you add in the overhead cost,” your head snapped up to Johnny who had sat across from you. “Then you can take it from annual costs. You’ve got the rest of it right."

You frowned at him before writing down what he said, "It’s correct.” You stared at him wide eyed.

“Woah, Johnny knows finance,” Taeil and Taeyong turned from their conversation to you two. “I didn’t think you were in Finance though?” Taeyong eyebrows pinched together.

Johnny shook his head, his dark hair flying in all different directions, “I was. I took a couple of business classes before switching to journalism. Finance just happened to be one.” Johnny turned back to you slightly, “Just thought I’d try to be some help. You seemed like you were struggling with that problem."

You wanted to glare at him. To tell him that you don’t need any help, especially not his. Who was he to decide that you needed help. Even if he did get you to the right answer he didn’t need to step in. He never had before. You gave him a tense smile, "Thank you, I have an exam today that I’m cramming for."

Johnny smiled back. His less tense and closer to genuine, "No problem, let me know if I can try to help you with something else."

You gave him a slight nod as you went back to your work. "So is that why you transferred here? I didn’t think NCU’s journalism program was that good. Actually, isn’t SMU’s the top program in the region.” Taeyong dipped a french fry in ketchup.

Johnny shrugged as he played with the food still on his plate, “I had no choice, well that’s not completely true, but on a sports team when a player gets injured they become a money hole. It was either stay at SMU and be off the volleyball team or go through PT, transfer, and maybe have a chance of playing again. NCU was just one of the universities that was willing to put me on the roster."

You kept your head ducked as you listened to their conversation. Taeyong had leaned forward, his head now sitting on the table, "So, why NCU? I mean you said this was just one of the options.”

Johnny nodded, “Yeah, it was between here, UofE, and RCU. A guy I knew at SMU said he had a friend that goes here and got me hooked up with him. Just so happens that guy,Jaehyun, was looking for another roommate. Plus, NCU doesn’t have an awful journalism program so I ended up here. To be honest, I like it here much more than SMU."

Taeil nudged your elbow catching your attention. You hummed as you resumed your studying, "You doing okay there?” He peered over you shoulder attempting to read your handwriting.

“Yeah, I think that I should do fine,” you grinned lightly. “I think I was more stressed out about it than I should have been."

He nodded at you before turning back to Johnny, “So you’re here. Now how do you know Taeyong?”

“We met in a photography class! I need it for my electives and Johnny’s specialization is photojournalism,” Taeyong perked up. “We sat by each other Johnny’s first day.” That intrigued you. A memory of Johnny standing in front of you camera flashing and pencil scratching danced around your head.

Johnny hummed as he pushed buttons on his camera, “We have an assignment for still life photography and I asked Tae if he could be my model.”

“You liked photography in High School also,” you hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but you had watched as Johnny lit up with talking about his class. The stares that the table gave you told you that you shouldn’t have said that. “Although, your skills as a journalist were shit.” You pulled your backpack from under the table. The book you had open slid closed and into the waiting bag as you panicked. You shouldn’t have said anything.

Johnny fixed you with a look that begged for understanding, “You know that we had a lot of restrictions on what we could write and publish. It all went through the teacher and principals.”

“That didn’t stop you from publishing that article about me now did it,” you hissed. The chair scraped the ground as you stood up. “I bet you loved getting to destroy my name. ‘Volleyball Prodigy Turns Out to be a Fraud’. First article on the sports page.”

Johnny stood up across from you, “Y/n I did not have any-”

“You were the one that interviewed me and used that in the article. Were you not?” You held up a hand to stop him from coming around the table. Johnny opened his mouth to speak, “I don’t want to hear it. You used my pain for your own personal gain. You don’t get to say anything.” You glance up at the ceiling urging the stinging in your eyes to go away. “Taeil, Taeyong thank you for lunch. We’ll have to do this again.” You turned and fled from the table. You had to stop letting him get to you.

Johnny sat heavily on his chair. He ran his hands down his face as he tried to compose yourself. Taeil and Taeyong glared at him from their seats. “I guess I should explain to you how Y/n and I know each other.” Taeil raised an eyebrow at him, “It started in Y/n and my sophomore year of high school.”

~~

tag list: @beyond-gethsemane , @lanadreamie @michplusb @jaxminskale @qianinterprises @stayctday @nanascupid @sadgirlroo

~~

*Reposted from previous blog*

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

APH College AU Headcanons:  Sweden

Dw, I’ll finish the Asians before moving on to the Nordics, I just had an urge to write Swe first. Explanation post here, AU tag is #college au musings on my blog!

- Architecture and design major

- As a hobby, he makes decorative and functional wood and clay figurines and furniture designs in the Scandinavian minimalism style.

- He usually makes smol animal figurines like this because they are smooth and curved with no sharp lines, friendly looking, and add nice, subtle touches to interior spaces. (But mostly, I just really like this headcanon because of the juxtaposition between a tall, intimidating looking guy working very diligently and quietly on small arts and crafts that could even be considered cute. It’s a nice image, and I think it’s fitting for Sweden’s character.)

- Decided to open an Etsy for his crafts and stuff (might as well try to support himself with his hobby). For each piece, there’s usually only one in stock because he makes everything by hand, so there aren’t any duplicates and every item he sells is slightly different. His shop is actually a lot more popular than his freelance work (see next hc); he thinks it’s sadly ironic his hobby is more useful than what he actually plans to do for a living :’) but he usually just takes it in stride and often reminds himself that he’s lucky to even have a hobby he can support himself with, and he doesn’t mind pivoting and making a living out of his Etsy.

- Trying to work freelance as a logo/graphic designer (he is an architecture student, but I don’t think many people would hire a college kid to design their buildings yet…). He’s still building up his portfolio, so he doesn’t have many customers yet.

- Lowkey dream job is to be an IKEA designer. Before you laugh, there are only 20 designers who make ALL the products they put out each year, so I’m gonna assume it’s incredibly hard to get a spot in the club.

- Really good at focusing, even though he lives in an apartment with the other Nordics who are very cHaoTiC

- Does fika almost religiously (it’s a Swedish coffee break where you relax and talk with the people around you, catch up and stuff). He never forgets it, and usually asks or forces the other Nordics to join him. It might be because of having this daily habit, but he never gets highkey stressed.

- B+ to A+ range grades. He really picked a good major, because he has an eye for design and a knack for building things, which makes homework and projects come fairly easy. Not a big fan of essays and typing, so he usually uses the dictation tool/voice input even if it sounds like he’s talking to himself (Denmark teases him about this a lot). His English and science skills are competent, but not stellar (and he’s not really interested in those subjects either), and he’s better at history and math.

- Always finishes his assignments in a timely manner; if he’s cramming or staying up late, he’ll only need an extra hour or two to wrap up and then he’ll go to bed around 11:30-12:45

- Very healthy lifestyle. Doesn’t eat much fast food or ramen or snacks instead of actual meals, exercises moderately, usually gets enough sleep. Has his life /mostly/ together so far.

- He used to go to the school cafe for breakfast but now just makes a half sandwich from scratch: one piece of toast with vegetables and some cheese on top. For lunch he always goes to the same food place and orders the same thing every time: chicken salad without mayonnaise and a yogurt (ok I have very little knowledge of food so please suggest alternatives that are more in character)

- Eats wheat crackers as a snack (would eat Swedish crispbread instead if he could buy it)

- Knows all the tricks when using rendering and editing software, ex Blender or photoshop. Very skilled at working on the computer for digital assignments.

- He prefers to take notes by hand, and always has a couple smaller sketchbook/graph paper notebooks on him (for design ideas and structure studies) as well as a lined paper one for notes. His handwriting is rather thin and narrow but very neat (like this). Has sworn off using pen.

- He renovated the Nordics’ whole shared apartment almost right after he moved into it (at the time it was just him and Denmark in there). Remade it into a perfect example of Scandinavian minimalism, and it’s very pleasant even if the rest of the apartment building is kinda dingy However, all the Nordics have personally redecorated their bedrooms to fit their own aesthetic and Sweden has a bit of a seizure when he goes into Finland’s room and sees death metal/rock aesthetic everywhere

- Doesn’t speak often in class, but when he does, it’s a thoughtful, intriguing comment or a well planned burn

- Has a fairly good relationship with his professors; they like his work ethic, designs, and how he’s pretty mature (some of them also like his lowkey sass). He likes them as well because they aren’t very scared by his resting bitch face, and as a result he talks to them a lot and has gotten to know them well. He’s been highly recommended for internships by some of them

- He and Norway have roasting sessions as they look on at people (Denmark) doing stupid things (often while drunk)

- This has no canon context but I really want Sweden and Netherlands to be friends in this AU, so they are. They met through Denmark, and the three go biking together sometimes. Sweden is more uptight about stuff, being healthy and not being obscene in public and nOt SmOKinG NeD pls save your lungs, Ned does not care and goes right on smoking. But like, they both admire things about each other; Berwald likes Ned’s efficiency with money and how he can get along with many people (at least on a business level) and Ned is impressed with Berwald’s prowess in design. Also they are both tall and sorta intimidating and that is a good enough similarity for a foundation of friendship

- He hasn’t joined a club, but has been called by the art people, some theater people, and some other miscellaneous clubs to build props and things for them. He’s chill about it, and likes taking the odd jobs around campus (obviously he doesn’t get paid but whatever)

- Has a reputation for being intimidating and scary because he doesn’t talk much and his face definitely isn’t an open book for his feelings, but if people actually talk to him without being scared they quickly find out he can be very playful, or at least is gentle and very nice

- But he doesn’t spill all his secrets to friends obviously; he just gets more talkative and more willing to share about things he likes and is passionate about

- I mentioned before that he’s not highkey stressed much, but he does feel like his future is futile (alliteration!) sometimes and sometimes just gets tired of doing work and needs a hug

- Also, you can’t really tell if he’s angry, but his expression gets stonier and he gets more threatening. Usually happens when someone insults one of his brothers or when he sees something unfair happening

I have some more but I forgot my basic structure for these headcanon posts so take this. Taiwan is next! Thank you for reading, and feedback is welcome and appreciated!

[kasu-meow]

⭐SE Headcanons - The girls and Scholar at a sleepover party

Hey anon! I’m flattered you thought of me for this, but I actually don’t really take requests, usually. It’s mostly because I’m not sure I could keep up and write every request in a satisfying way, in a short amount of time. I still wrote your request this time though, and I hope you like it :) under the cut because I went a little overboard and it’s about 3500 words.

Ellie:

When Ellie invited you to her sleepover party, she could barely contain her excitement

She was jumping left and right, saying how it would be the most amazing sleepover ever, and the most wicked hangout you’d ever been to

You had no idea what to expect, and prepared yourself for the worst

And you were right to, because as soon as you stepped in her room you were met with absolute chaos

There were only about three or four people, but the combination of yelling and running made your head hurt a little

It was a wonder how the custodians hadn’t caught them yet

You were gaping at the front door without really daring to enter, when Ellie spotted you and dragged you inside

“Scholar, you came!!! What are you doing just standing there? Come in, we’re gonna prank Tegan when he comes back from the bathroom!”

You didn’t have the time to understand what was happening, someone was already shoving you behind the bed as Tyler and Ellie spilled fake blood (and knives) everywhere

As soon as they heard steps, Ellie hid in the closet and Tyler ducked in an angle behind the door, phone already in hand

“Holy sh…”

Tegan made his way to the center of the room and looked at the puddles of blood, clearly confused, as Ellie jumped out of the closet and pretended to fall down on the floor like a corpse

Tegan’s scream echoed throughout the dorms, and Tyler and Ellie couldn’t help but burst out laughing

“I hate you guys” was all Tegan could say

Still pretty confused, you came out of your hiding spot and finally greeted everyone

“Sorry for dragging you into that all of a sudden! But you came at the worst moment ahahah!”

Ellie had approached you, still unable to stay still, and flashed you one of her bright smiles

“S’okay ahah I was just confused, is all. Hey, awesome PJs by the way!”

You had failed to notice it in the confusion before, but Ellie was wearing a Jolteon onesie, Tegan an Umbreon one and Tyler a Flareon one

“Thanks, yours aren’t bad either! Next sleepover, you HAVE to match with us! What’s your favorite Eeveelution?”

The party continued as Ellie tried to assign you your “official Eeveelution,” till you heard footsteps in the hallway

Everyone quietened down, but the footsteps stopped right in front of the door and someone knocked

“Are we expecting someone else?”

“Sssh, be quiet”

“Ms. Collins,” another knock “it’s the custodian. Please open the door.”

“Shoot! Everybody hide!”

You scrambled to hide under the bed as Tegan turned the TV on and Tyler and Ellie cleaned up, almost as if they’d rehearsed this

A second later, Ellie opened the door

“Ms. Collins, you are making a lot of noise, and we’ve received reports of several students who say they heard someone scream in your room.” The custodian said as he looked inside

“Ah, sorry about that! I was just watching a horror movie” Ellie said as she gestured towards the tv, “I promise I’ll keep it down.”

“Very well…” replied the custodian, not fully convinced.

He glanced at Ellie one last time, then made his way back

Ellie closed the door and after waiting a few seconds, everyone came out

“That was close! Had he decided to come in and check, we would’ve been toast!” Tyler said, almost bumping his head crawling out from under the desk

You tried your best to honor your promise to keep it down for the rest of the evening, and soon enough it was time for bed

You were deciding on sleeping arrangements, when Ellie approached you

“Wanna sleep in my bed, Scholar?”

You blushed at the suggestion, but before you could reply, Ellie was already speaking again

“We don’t have enough mattresses so someone has to sleep with me..”

You felt a little stupid for misunderstanding, but you still chuckled and tried to play it off

“Uh, sure! I already had to hide there twice tonight, might as well.”

Ellie giggled as she ducked under the cover, patting the mattress as an invitation

You gladly complied and slid under the covers too, you couldn’t help but feel giddy as you faced Ellie’s smiling face

“You’re a lifesaver, Scholar. If you had said no, I would’ve had to ask one of TnT and I figured you’re much cuter, so I’d rather spoon with you~”

A small blush made its way to her face despite her trying to sound smooth, and if made your face feel hotter, too.

“Smooth” was all you could reply as you shily broke eye contact and moved closer to Ellie

“’Night, Scholar~”

You tried to close your eyes, but with the butterflies you were feeling in your stomach, you weren’t sure you would be getting much sleep that night

“’Night, Ellie…”

Karolina:

Karol is the type of person who doesn’t get along with most people, but keeps her valuable connections very close

She has an image to uphold, and she would rather die than be seen with people who could damage said image

So saying that you were surprised when she invited you to her exclusive sleepover party was an understatement

You thought it might be a prank and she would ridicule you as soon as you entered her room, but you knew Karolina was better than that

You fidgeted for days trying to make up your mind, and you decided you should probably go

Because after being invited by Karolina herself, ditching the sleepover seemed like condemning yourself to your own death

You packed your best PJs, got everything you might have needed and even prepared a snack to bring over, and you made your way to the model’s room

Neha greeted you at the door, and Karol only sent you a glance as an acknowledgment of your presence

You settled down in a small spot near the side of the room, and looked around to see who else Karolina had deemed worthy of her presence

You weren’t surprised to see it was mostly other famous models, designers and businesspeople

You tried to blend in and make some conversation, but you were finding it hard to relate to most of those people

You wondered what you were doing there for the hundredth time that night

You took another look around the room: Neha was busy exchanging sketchbooks with other designers, talking about ideas and giving tips here and there, but Karolina was alone, elegantly sitting with her back against her bed in her red nightgown, sipping on her drink, looking effortlessly mesmerizing

You made your way to where she was sitting, and quietly sat down next to her, subtly sneaking a few glances her way

“If you want something, you should stop looking at me every five seconds and just say it.”

Okay, maybe not so subtly

“I was just wondering why you invited me. I thought you didn’t like me.”

Karolina briefly looked at you, then shifted her gaze to her drink, then back at you. She seemed uncertain, a look she rarely sported, when she softly answered

“I don’t…”

You knew that already, it was something she had made clear plenty of times, so why was she acting so precious about it now?

“…dislike you.”

Oh.

Your heart skipped several beats, and you weren’t quite sure how to reply to that. Karolina didn’t dislike you? Did that mean she-

“Hold it right there. I can see every single thought that’s going through that little brain of yours; I didn’t say I liked you, I just said your presence doesn’t make me want to throw up. That’s all.”

Eh, good enough. You’d take what you could get. But right now, you had something very important to do: tease the hell out of Karolina.

“I think you liiiiiike me~ Karolina, you big softie! I didn’t know you felt that way!”

“Wha- don’t call me that! That’s it, I knew I shouldn’t have invited you! What are those, pajamas? Disgusting.”

She shot you a horrified look, but you could make out a small patch of red making its way to her cheeks

You smiled to yourself, hiding your own blush

You felt like an idiot for falling for Karolina, you thought she hated your guts and a relationship with her looked impossible even in your dreams

However, that night, you definitely made a step in the right way. It’s not like she professed her undying love for you, but at least now, you had a small chance

And that was enough to make your heart flutter

 Neha:

Midterms were drawing closer and closer, but you still felt insecure about some subjects, especially the ones that had never been your strong suit

You and Neha were talking and exchanging notes during lunch when you two came up with the idea of having a sleepover to cram before midterms

Neha offered to have it in her room

You were a little worried about Karolina, but Neha said it would be fine

You decided against inviting many people, considering it wasn’t even your room, and only asked Claire if she wanted to come

The night of the sleepover, you grabbed your books, notes, and some snacks and headed over

Neha opened the door, already in her silk golden nightgown, and greeted you with a soft smile

You made eye contact with Karolina as you were going in, and she shot you a glare

It was obvious she wasn’t enthusiastic at the idea of you being in her room, hanging out with her best friend, but she trusted Neha enough not to object

You were all very diligent for a while, but as everyone got sleepy, the focus started to shift from studying to other things

“Neha~ are those drawings on the closet all yours?”

You recognized the girl who asked as one of the members of the student council

She was snacking and looking through them, while completely ignoring the math problem you were all trying to solve

“Uhm, yes, Anne, but the homework-”

“Wow, Neha! Do you have more drawings we could see?”

Neha looked embarrassed about being the center of attention all of a sudden, but she still pulled out some sketchbooks to show her guests

“I guess it can’t hurt to take a break…”

As the girls fawned over Neha’s designs, even Karolina, who had been mostly indifferent the entire evening, joined the conversation to praise her friend

She even pulled out the department competition’s dress from her closet and showed it to the rest of the girls, proud of how talented her best friend was

Neha, however, was sitting outside of the little group, observing the conversation from the outside

You decided to go sit next to her, for a chance to be let in her inner thoughts

“Whatcha thinking about, Neha?”

“Oh… nothing much, I just… don’t really know what to say in these situations. When everyone’s complimenting me like this. Other than thanks, of course.”

You hummed pensively

It was true that Neha was well-known, despite her business still being fairly new, but you were under the impression that Karolina usually captivated everyone, so Neha might still not have been used to people noticing her designs rather than the model in them

You smiled at her, and let some of your feelings spill out

“Well, I love your designs too, and I think you’re very talented and you deserve all the praise. Even Bersace singled you out during the department competition. You are special Neha, and more and more people are starting to realize that.”

She looked at you, a mix of surprised and flattered

You were starting to worry that you might have overstepped or said something weird, but you were met with one of Neha’s warm smiles

“Thank you, Scholar. I’m happy, really. It means a lot for me, sharing my designs with the world, and the fact that people like them. That you like them.”

You returned her smile, with a fuzzy feeling in your chest

Feeling a surge of bravery, you took her hand in yours and gave it a little squeeze in encouragement

To your surprise, she didn’t reject you, she squeezed back and looked you in the eyes

She got up after a moment, straightening her skirt and tidying up the table where you’d been studying

“Alright,” she declared “break’s over. Who wants some coffee? We still have a lot of subjects to tackle.”

You smiled as the others groaned, and Anne dramatically threw herself on a bed, but you decided to get to work

You went to help Neha with the coffee, while Claire and Karolina decided on the next subjects to revise

You had a long night ahead of you

 Claire:

Claire approached you outside of science class to invite you to a small get together she had been planning

She said she had been thinking of doing something for her friends after the Nakano incident, to take everyone’s minds off it

It was apparently Raquel who suggested they plan a sleepover to relax and recharge before diving back into their regular packed schedules, and Claire was more than happy to plan something for her close friends to have fun together

Claire always managed to warm your heart; how could you refuse?

You were excited at the idea of spending time with the local angel and your other close friends, and you even made cookies to bring to the party

Granted, they weren’t the best cookies out there, but they were made with love and that’s what mattered, right?

…Right?

The night of the party, you packed everything you needed in a small bag, and put your cookies in a special wrap, hoping it’d make them more appealing

You knew you had nothing to worry about, this is Claire we’re talking about, but still… you wanted to make something nice

…And maybe impress her a little bit

You changed into your PJs and made your way to Claire’s door, making sure no one saw you

You quickly ducked into the room, and were greeted by a smiling Claire

She was wearing simple light blue pajamas, but she looked unbelievably cute to you

You were a blushing and stuttering mess as you handed her the cookies you’d made, her overjoyed eyes almost melting you on the spot

“Scholar, you didn’t have to bring anything! That was so nice of you to make something, though. These will be great with the tea Neha and I are going to make.”

You looked over to the Indian girl, and you saw her plug in a portable stove

There were a large variety of tea bags, flavors scattered on a table next to some pots

Everyone picked a flavor following Neha’s and Claire’s recommendations, and soon enough, you found yourself with your own cup in hands

While waiting for the hot liquid to cool down a bit, you let your eyes wander towards the blonde girl who’d been monopolizing your thoughts lately

Claire was putting down her cup after blowing on it a little, to turn and make eye contact with you

She smiled at you and got up, as your heart leaped in your chest

“I almost forgot! Scholar was kind enough to bake us cookies. I’ll put them in a plate here on the table, so help yourselves if you feel hungry.”

As she put the plate down, several people scooched closer to grab some of your cookies, and you saw Claire take some herself

You grew incredibly self-conscious as she took a bite, and you decided that staring at your mug was better than following Claire’s every move like a creep

You shoved some of the cookies in your mouth to keep yourself occupied, and you looked up in surprise

Huh. They weren’t quite as terrible as you remembered

In a moment of bravery, you decided to approach Claire

“Hey Claire…”

“Scholar, hi! Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Ah, yes! Everyone’s really nice, and the tea’s so good. And, uh… did you like the cookies I brought…?”

You looked away in embarrassment; it wasn’t like you to fish for compliments, but you genuinely valued Claire’s opinion and wanted to make sure she didn’t hate them

“I loved them! You are a great cook, Scholar.”

“Oh, thank God! I thought they didn’t come out well, to be honest…”

“Are you joking? They are good, Scholar! Besides, you made them, so I’d have loved them regardless…”

“Oh?”

You looked at Claire, who bit her lip, eyes widening in realization

“I-I meant! I always love everything you do, and…”

Blushing like mad, Claire quickly got up

“I’m going to go prepare the mattresses!”

You followed her with your eyes, your face feeling hotter and hotter as you recalled her words

Love…

You let yourself bask in the idea of your feelings possibly being reciprocated, before you started drinking your tea again

Was it the sweet, honey-like flavor you were tasting that was making your heart warm, or was it the sight of a clumsy blonde scrambling to take out the mattresses, trying to hide her blushing face?

You took another sip to calm your nerves, before you got up and went to help her

 Raquel:

You were pretty nervous at the idea of spending the night with your crush, but knowing Raquel, you went in there thinking she invited lots of people and it wouldn’t be intimate at all

You were wrong

There were five or six people tops, excluding you

You thought maybe the others hadn’t arrived yet, but when Claire warmly greeted you at the door, she said you were the last person they were expecting

“You made it, Scholar!”

Raquel greeted you with a grin, putting her arm around your shoulder

She was wearing a tank top and shorts

While you did imagine that she might wear something like this for bed, it didn’t prepare you for how hot she actually looked

You tried to regain your composure while you were putting down your stuff, and you thankfully succeeded

You looked around the room once again, and you spotted a couple girls from the soccer team, and other students from the Athletics’ Department

You were so concentrated on people watching though, that you didn’t notice Raquel sitting down next to you

She gave you the scare of a lifetime

“Oops, sorry Scholar ahah! What were you thinking about so hard?”

“I was just trying to recognize everyone, I’m a little surprised you didn’t invite the whole soccer team.”

“I actually did, y’know? But some of them had assignments and stuff.”

“Oh.”

You were admittedly a little tense; you weren’t expecting such an intimate situation with your crush and it got you flustered

So your brain may or may not have been forming sentences the way it normally did

“You know Scholar, I was thinking… now’s the perfect chance for you to take up on my offer?”

“Your offer?”

“To get physical~”

You turned your head so fast that you almost hurt yourself, your eyes widening and your heart beating way too fast for your own good

But before you could say anything (not that you would’ve been able to, with how dry your throat was) you were smacked with a pillow, right on your face

As you blinked, trying to understand what just happened, you started to make out Raquel’s triumphant expression

“PILLOW FIGHT!!!” A girl, who you recognized as one of Raquel’s teammates, yelled out after witnessing Raquel’s vicious attack

The battle was intense and harrowing; friendships ended and alliances were born, some people were so scarred they could never recover from the trauma

You and Claire had built a small pillow fort to protect yourselves from the Athletics’ Department students gone feral

As you were about to enter though, Claire got caught in the fire between a basketball girl and a tennis girl

“Why is this happening?! I don’t want to hit anyone!”

“Nooooo, Claire!” You screamed, you had to go save her!

“Ssssh, let her go, Scholar… she’s gone now…”

You turned around to find out that Raquel had crashed your fort and was now hiding with you

“You… you traitor! First me, and now Claire…” you pretended to be upset, it’s at times like these that you regretted not being able to channel fake tears

“Pff, you are a terrible actress, Scholar.” She replied “But I’m sorry for attacking you earlier, really. It’s just that you looked so nervous, y’know? I want you to have fun tonight.”

Your heart skipped a beat after being reminded of the situation you were in earlier, and Raquel’s offer to get physical

Although it turned out, it wasn’t the physical you were thinking of

“You don’t have to be nervous, Scholar. It’s just me.”

Yeah, it was just Raquel

But you smiled at her, ignoring the butterflies, and you hid together in your castle while the outside world went in ruins

This would’ve been hella romantic, you thought, if it wasn’t just a pillow fight

[2bstudioblog]

Konami’s wheels are turning... slowly

Lot’s of interesting news heading to our heads this Monday from what I heard from Yong Yea’s video about Konami wanting to outsource their IP’s to 3rd parties.

Obviously, Akira Yamaoka has kinda given away a strong hint that he’s working on a project with Bloober which in this case would be the long awaited SH remake or the direction they had with PT before it got cancelled. Akira Yamaoka also decided that (too late) he wanted to amend the article from his interview and release it later down the line. It’s very unusual that these news happen, but we all know Yamaoka is most famous for his music in Silent Hill.

Which brings me to a funny story about my own involvement of a Silent Hill game. I mentioned this on a podcast that I was part of 2 Konami-owned IP’s that went into another direction and killing off their franchises which have been like dead bodies in a morgue for the last 7 years.

I got the request to write industrial-metal music for a Silent Hill (of course at this time I only knew the IP and their most famous version of the game has been Silent Hill 2.) game. First I was of course very excited to be part of the series, but I jumped to early until I found out it was a Pachinko-machine (A japanese style pinball-game mixed with a touch-screen and a one-armed bandit and a slot-machine in one.), and my heart sank a little. I think I produced 4-5 cues for the machine, but I’m glad that nobody will be able to hear my “mediocre” masterpieces because all you would hear are metal-balls falling into a tray. But the thing about this machine, it had taken cut-scenes from Silent Hill 2, upscaled or even re-mastered/remade the graphics which would have looked great if it was its own game. But it was the same thing they’ve done with all their other IPs when those transfer over to this kind of entertainment. All what was left of it, Jim Sterling turned the game into a Meme and all I can hear is the -”HIT THE LEVER!” and the effects overpowering the music behind it. But I’m glad it didn’t go further then that. Technically here, Silent Hill(s) died with the arrival of the pachinko-slot machine and the series have tried to re-establish itself ever since.

Another game I was a part of was a Castlevania (Dracula in Japan) themed Pachinko-slot machine, with the revolutionary phrase “Erotic Violence” in it’s PR material and video-commercial. I mean, they took the music production part of this machine very seriously because I wasn’t aware of the “EV” part. I just thought it would be a machine praising the history of Castlevania. I was assigned to re-write and re-orchestrate a few songs from Neo-classical Metal music into more Progressive Metal style, and I was super-proud of this one because they had the sheet-music already available for me. All I had to do was re-arrange some parts for a string-quartet (1 cello, 2 violins and 1 viola) and I believe it was engineered and recorded by famed engineer Kenji Nakai who was under and working with famed engineer Mr Bruce Swedien (Michael Jackson, Quincy Jones).

From that moment me and Mr. Nakai stroke a friendship because he has a passion for Progressive Metal and he asked me if I could send more songs his way. From this we both have been incredibly busy on both of our ends, but I hope we can be able to work on something in the future. I have a feeling that might be soon.

So a long story short, Konami spent a lot of money for recording, they approved everything and we were done. But when it turned out to be a pachinko-machine and not a world-wide videogame release, I just had to facepalm myself, asking the question why they keep doing so many poor decisions. Why leaving all those fans out in the cold and really start making Castlevania mean something. This void of “lots of fancy things, but no substance” started right here...

Konami are turning their wheels a little bit too late and too slow until now. After they got rid of Hideo Kojima (Who I believe was thinking of the international-market rather than the domestic one), Konami had only one thing on their minds: Making money quick and domestically. No more wasted time on translations, straight for the gambling crowd. No need to write interesting stories. No need to introduce kids to this adult material. They wanted to earn it back as fast as possible. But we all see their decisions put them on the map as a “black-company”, who mistreat their staff, shaming them out in the office for overstaying their lunch-breaks. Moving staff from one business to another, from a programmer to a Konami-fitness Center-staff, or as a toilet-cleaner at a Konami-owned pachinko-slot gambling hall. The management of the company has been horrendous for the full-time employee. I’m glad I was not part of these later projects and only wrote stuff for them for Pro Evolution Soccer series from 2009-2012. (My work on 2010-2012 was unfortunately un-credited work. :(

Metal Gear Solid V - The Phantom Pain In My Ass

When the playable teaser called Metal Gear Solid - Ground Zeroes, came out on the PS3 and later on the PS4, it was an introduction for the new graphics engine designed by Hideo Kojima’s team, simply called The FOX-Engine. Basically this “game” was more of a demo rather than a full-product. But it looked great and with a fantastic score by Akihiro Honda, Ludvig Forssell and Harry Gregson-Williams, it had everything going for it to become something really awesome. It became a standard approach from Hideo Kojima now to produce “Playable Teasers” to show a great concept while offering a 3-4 hour short campaign, showing off the engine’s graphical capabilities.

Still, the story was under progress and I knew early on that Hideo Kojima really didn’t want to do it after he always felt that Metal Gear Solid 4 was final. But here is the curse of the die-hard fans, and I’m sorry to say it. No matter how many Iron Man movies Marvel crams out, at the 3rd movie, I started to feel “This does not feel like Iron Man anymore”. But that’s what the fans wanted and is a standard in the movie industry. Always produce a trilogy. Indiana Jones has always been the 3 movies from 1981-1989. The 4th one doesn’t really need to be called Indiana Jones at all. It was there I felt, just like with Metal Gear Solid V, they were beating a DEAD RACE HORSE.

I can’t deny the talents on display for Metal Gear Solid - Ground Zeroes. It laid down some really cool foundations for the gameplay, but I still believe the better game-series for stealth was beaten by the likes of Splinter Cell and most recently Thief. Stealth in MGS has always felt a little bit childish and I only really enjoyed MGS 1, MGS 2, tried to play MGS 3 (still have it one my Vita!) and will try to finish it. MGS 3 has felt like the TRUE Zeroes experience, with the inception of the story and lore behind the cloning of Big Boss. MGS 4 finally brought it all to a great finale and I felt, there is NOTHING more to tell. MGS 1, 2 and 4 is the Trilogy, MGS 3 serves as the Prequel and I see nothing wrong with that.

Mission - Erase Kojima’s Legacy

The making of MGS V - The Phantom Pain is kinda true to it’s title. Can you feel the nostalgia? Or are we just imagining the sensation of a Metal Gear Solid game past it’s prime? The missing link? The missing limb? And with the worlds biggest cop-out  of everything that had to do with story was completely missing.

Each mission is playing out every time the same, with an intro to a TV-show, giving away massive spoilers to who would appear in the mission, you do your thing (not so much of story, just a “go-here, do that approach, sneak back out, head to pick-up) rinse and repeat. I wonder how much of this was Kojima’s fault? I don’t think he was up to it. I’m sure he fought for more story but the big heads didn’t want to listen to what makes a MGS game a MGS game. The new management had now already played the hand to disown the man who put Konami on the map for games since the mid 80s.

The game is no longer marketed like before. The tagline “A Hideo Kojima Game” no longer exists and will never be part of Konami’s mission of erasing the person who gave them their fame and the recognition that a game carrying the name Konami was a brand of quality for any gamer out there. Me myself, personally only played PES because of the stellar animations, but its recently since 2012, I stopped playing the series. FIFA had already cheapened itself, PES likewise. Updating the graphics, but the same old animations have been recycled back to the PES3 days. Maybe there’s been an update in the collision engine, but otherwise everything stayed the same, with the huge amount of data collected from previous years of motion-capture, why do it all over when its all about the brand recognition? Saving money on processes wherever possible. Simple Math. And here it is. MGS V is not a MGS game.

We already knew it was going to be a massive budget behind the game of MGS V. But what can Konami do to save money on MGS V? They already have the Fox Engine running from Ground Zeroes. The assets for “Snake” (I’ll let you know why I put quotation-marks around it) and standard models will extend somewhat. Oh, yes, let’s save money on a character that doesn’t speak (Quiet), over-sexualize the character to start a fan-base of people who just dig character design, animated a sexy “shower” routine for the character for boys to go nuts over. What about voice? Let’s not really try to sync the voices to the mouths. Let’s have the guy from “24″ record his performances onto tape-logs. Kiefer Sutherland would have been a good “Snake”, but I understand now that you are not “SNAKE”. The game explains pretty soon at the end that you are just a Medic and all the tapes you’ve been listening to is the original Big Boss. You never where the character of Snake. Even though this all could have been handled better, Konami wanted to save money wherever possible. We also knew David Hayter was not asked or put forward to return as “The Voice of Snake”. But in this case I start to wonder myself, David Hayter might have dodged the biggest bullet in the most expensive, commercial and very controversial game of all time once Konami decided to kill everything that built up their reputation.

Even during production Kojima managed to start working on PT. The game Konami “silenced” after it was released on the PS-store. Guillermo Del Toro and his friendship with Hideo Kojima’s dream-game was put on ice. All because Kojima was about to get frozen out of the company that was according to Konami “Wasting too much bloody money”. I might get blacklisted for saying this, but once the new management started to mess with the other IPs for just domestic/gambling market, that’s where everything went sideways. Konami wasn’t treating their heritage with respect.

It took them 7 years to realize their mistake! And now, for those who wants to be part of 3rd party developers who would get a crack at a new Castlevania, a new Metal Gear Solid (remake I hope), Konami has realized that the only way they will survive (Yeah, Metal Gear Solid Survive killed them HARD) is to let other’s take over. Maybe my dream of scoring a Metal Gear Solid game would be somewhat more possible now rather than working in the confined space of limitations posed by the higher ups at Konami. Let 3rd party developers breathe life into the IPs because I know there are smarter ways to tell a story and I would gladly like to see the return of David Hayter in the seat, without having to deal with the blank-face approach that he was faced with every time he had to audition for Snake in MGS 2, 3 and 4! David Hayter is a fantastic writer, actor and voice-actor. He has the chops and I think we are all ready for either a re-make or a better follow up to MGS 2 and the time between that one and MGS 4.

[peppersbian]

March 23 2021

I missed my daily thing on habitica for this so it like says I lost my streak which is bullshit and kinda annoys me but whatever. It's not technically all about points but it makes me feel better and I dislike that they did that to me. Scoff.

I had a pretty busy day today. I feel really good about myself.

I got through my English class and did the work I was assigned for the asynchronous time done during that time. I feel really good about that because I usually swerve and mess it up.

I made myself eggs and sausage for breakfast just before needing to sit down for math.

I was kinda unfocused during math, because I was working on the Open house presentation. So at least it wasn't time too badly wasted. I did my math homework due at 4 complete and on time! I feel so great about that. I feel good that I learned how to use the TI84, but also kinda embarrassed that it took me this long to sit down and fucking do that. But whatever.

Mom brought a pizza for late lunch/early dinner.

I went w mom to pick up some of the buy nothing stuff she got. I got some styrofoam balls which I will be sure to have fun with.

I got the PowerPoint done just in time for them meeting. I was a few minutes late for it but they hadn't really started anywys like they usually do. It went really well, I need to do some last polishes and I'll be great to go for the open house.

I don't think I'm going to go to the open house. It's sounds boring and I'm tired and also need to cram my English thing tomorrow. I feel bad though because I feel like I'm neglecting all my other classes by honing on one. I get too tired to do more than one thing a day.

Honestly all I could think about at the meeting was how I feel like I've never had any real connection or friendship with literally anyone in the troop. That I'm just a tack on to everything else. I thought about Nicole and the summer trip and how she made it so tiring and impossible to get around and be with other people and even making us late because she wanted to go to every fucking phone case stand. I feel bad for feeling that way because she's disabled or whatever but I can't help but feel like I got out with her because no one else wanted me and certainly no one else tolerates her. I though about catalina and how when I asked her at boating if she wanted to be partners, said "potentially", walked alway from em and talked to like three other people. One group was a group of three and I was all alone. It was humiliating. The lifeguard pittied me. I hate that. I love legend but it so tiring. It's just like a reminder I'm never wanted, cared about, or fit in. As much as the idea of sisterhood and community is preached it's never truly practiced. I wish it was though,

Gibson is so sweet. She seems so passionate and excited. I hope she gets the best from us. I feel bad that her freshmen year is being spent like this. She said she felt bad for me but honestly my times already been wasted so there's no real use in feeling bad about whats actively being taken. Loss is loss. I hope she never has to feel like me.

I'm tearing up again. These journals are hard. Today was a good day and I feel kinda silly for hanging up on these one or two bad things but that also stupid, it's good to feel. Human range of emotion and experiences or whatever. Sigh. Wish it was more convient.

I like Bojack horseman video essays. I can watch that shit forever. I watched a good one bout mr peanut butter and his defining trait being addicted to unconditional unwavering affection. I don't think I'm like that to the degree he is. I have at least some concept of boundaries and that people find joy and intert from different things. But I kinda felt that. Need to be needed. Except not really because that's not the same thing. Need to be swaddled and hugged and attended to, emotionally.

I had a vision of my future. Always being in a relationship even if it's not super great just because I want someone to love me or at least claim too in some capacity.

I know my friends love me and I them, But that's not the way that I mean or want. Sigh. I do love them though.

I ate the leftover from pizza lunch for dinner. Cold pizza rocks.

Today was a good day. I really need to make more art and work on studio. Im anxious about grades and shit it's really a bad underlying stress I can't get over. I haven't checked my grades at all and it feels a little suffocating lol. It is what it is though. After this weeek it's spring break which I desperately need.

I hope to work on miku, I'm gonna place my jo Ann's order so hopefully I can get my lace and my leather paint. Super excited. I keep bouncing around from projects, I have a lot of motivation but no time. It's frustrating. Just a Girlboss living in a Gatekeep world I guess.

I've been feeling kind a guilt about Mel. I haven't checked my message requests in so long. It's kinda og just become a part of the system, and since it's not a notification to be cleared it's been easy to not make it bug me. She's 23. I knew that but it only really kinda occurred to me. That's like 6 years. I wish she knew some fucking boundaries. Maybe if someone removed you as a follower twice, blocks you, and doesn't respond to your messages you should let it be. I feel bad for doing this and not just saying it outright but I'm scared of hurting her feelings with words. Like actions are much better. But I hate interacting with her. She has done nothing wrong or innapropriate I'm just annoyed by her. She's annoying. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't like engaging with her. It feels good to say that straight and honestly and not w a fucking feeling cushion or smthn. I keep dancing around my words like this isn't my private journal jfc. Anywyss I wish she'd go away. I feel bad about having to like take action to block her or whatever. I'm not gonna tonight. But I should. Guilty consciousness though won't go. I know I should vocalize smth but I just really don't want to. And I think I'm allowed to do that.

I feel bad for saying she's annoying and I hate interacting w her Anf her incomprehensible speech because she's disabled. Why do so many disabled people try and be my friend? It's nothing against them. It's just a trend I've noticed where I'm sweet and then can't set boundaries because I feel guilty about not letting them do what the want. Sigh. I don't think there's really a way to win at that. I don't think it's ableist to say that some neurodivergent behaviors are annoying and boundary breaking and I don't want to engage w that specifc behavior. I don't.

I wonder how many words this was.

[babbushka]

Two’s Company (2/5)

1989 and New York City is a mess. Life was shit for all but you and Pale, who found that among the rubble and rubbish, there existed peace and calm and hard hot fucking. That is, until, an unwanted visitor makes themselves known, throwing this happy dream into a tumultuous nightmare.

Chapter 2 of my sequel to Blue Moon!

Previous Chapter

(Word count: 9.2k Warnings: N*SFW, drug mention/use)

                                                —————————

It smelled like shit, he thought with a frown. It smelled like stale beer and  cigarettes, not that he wasn’t adding to that mix, but still. 

Pale was annoyed, tappin’ his fuckin’ foot as he held onto the handrail on the subway as he waited and waited for it to arrive at his stop. He had no problem getting to Grand Central, but for whatever fuckin’ reason there was traffic or something because the short ride from there to the Lincoln Center was takin’ ages.

The subway was packed, because of course it was, nine-thirty rush hour. He had half a mind to stop off somewhere and just walk the rest of the fuckin’ way, but he didn’t want his face to catch frostbite or nothin’.

He was mindin’ his own business, lookin’ around the place when he saw something familiar, a little scribble on the wall, just next to the window he was leanin’ against. He could barely make it out amidst all the other graffiti on the train, but he recognized your handwriting anywhere.

There it was, a little faded maybe, a little worn away, but there it was: a heart with the two of your initials written in black sharpie.

It was partially covered up by another person’s vandalism, and that irritated Pale, ticked him off. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small metallic silver paint marker.

“’Scuze me a sec,” He shuffled through the crowd to the window, pushed his way past people who were all crammed in like sardines, no one really payin’ him much attention.

As carefully as he could, he traced your little heart, traced the V.S.O.P and the (Y/Initials), put the cap back on it.

An old woman sitting down smiled up at him, and he gave her a nod back, content to just hold onto the fuckin’ handrail and think about all the bullshit he’s gotta deal with later, with the orchestra, with the restaurant, all the while trying his very best not to get jostled around. He was aware of how big a guy he was, didn’t want to go toppling over onto nobody.

“You know,” The old woman said, accent thick and Greek, capturing his attention once more, making him turn his gaze towards her, “They say dating’s impossible in New York City.”

He shrugged, smoked his cigarette.

“They ain’t wrong.” He said, thinking about all the bullshit that had happened when he first stepped foot into the city, all that time ago.

In a loft in Manhattan, with a dancer and her ghosts. That hadn’t worked out, not for maybe a month, but he found he didn’t mind all too much. He was bitter about it, but then again Pale was bitter about a lot of shit.

“What’d you call that then?” The old woman asked, gesturing to the drying paint on the wall, the small declaration he had only just reinforced.

He looked down at his boots, at the shiny leather you had cleaned up with your tongue, thought about the way his heart got all fuckin’ flippy and fluttery whenever he saw you smile real wide for him, beam up at him.

“Love,” He said, as the subway came to a rolling stop, as the doors hissed open and he flicked his cigarette onto the tracks below, “That’s love.”

 It was a feat of architecture, that was for fuckin’ sure, Pale thought whenever he walked up to the Lincoln Center. In another life, if he hadn’t gone the artsy route, he thinks he woulda liked being an architect. Being someone who plans shit, builds shit.

Nah, then again, he thinks, he didn’t like math too much, heard there was a lot of fuckin’ math in architecture. Knowing his luck, he’d be doing some calculations that would have the fuckin thing toppling over. With his luck, he’d be stuck doing construction that lasted for ten years just to siphon bond money away from the city. With his luck, he’d be sued for something, he just knew it. Better leave that to the architects then, he thought.

But still, there was no fuckin’ doubting that the building was gorgeous, even Pale could appreciate that. A strong rectangular building with huge swooping arches carved into the front of it, something grand and imposing, something worthy of the art of performance.

He liked the way it was all lit up at night, but during the daytime it was okay too.

He walked around the fountain, huge white foaming frothing water that Pale always had half a mind to jump right into, walked through the pigeons who didn’t give a shit, kicked a can along the way as he went up the couple steps.

He’d like to take you here again, he thought, as he opened the heavy door and hit boots clacked against the shined polished floors. He’d like to get you all gussied up, have you on his arm as he walks in with a penguin suit on and his hair combed back, like he’s playin’ some fucking game, playing pretend.

It never felt like pretend when he was with you.

He chain smoked his way through the hall, passing the huge glass windows of the lobby of Alice Tully, where he knew his orchestra was waiting for him.

Sure e-fuckin-nough, when he opened the door to the actual concert hall, there was a great sigh of relief, some kid named Nicky who had been assigned as Pale’s assistant running right up to him.

“Pale! We thought you’d been hit by a taxi or some shit.” The kid said, all huffin’ and puffin’ and holding a clipboard on it like he was some official big shot and not just some college kid on an unpaid internship.

Pale stubbed out the cigarette and cracked the joints in his neck, in his hands.

“Yeah yeah, I know, I’m sorry, it ain’t gonna happen again.” HE gave a half-hearted apology, checking his watch, holding it up to his face to see the time. The fuckin’ thing was smudged, fogged up from how warm it was inside in comparison to the cold of November morning. “How late am I?”

“Fifteen minutes, the orchestra’s been waitin’ for you, they’re all warmed up already.” Nicky said straight away, like he had been counting. Who knows, maybe he had.

“Shit, alright alright well I’m fuckin’ here now, okay?” Pale said, running a hand through his hair as he descended the steps of the theater, made his way up to the stage. “Nobody died or nothing.”

Nicky chuckled at that, before he stopped Pale abruptly.

“A call came in for you, some woman.” Nicky said suddenly, like he had just remembered, and Pale frowned.

“Woman?” He asked, mind immediately racing – was it you? Had something happened? Were you okay? He shouldn’t have left he shouldn’t have let you go to the stores by yourself, not a pretty thing like you, not all alone.  

“Yeah, but she hung up when I asked who was callin’.” Nicky said, making Pale frown for a different reason.

“She didn’t give no name or nothin’?” He asked, and huh, well that wasn’t like you at all.

“Nope, just asked for Jim.” Nicky replied, and yeah no, no fuckin’ way was that you.

You hadn’t called him Jim, since that night you put him back together, all that time ago. No one really called him Jim, unless it was business people. That musta been it, he thought rolling his eyes, some secretary or some shit like that, trying to get a hold of him.

“If she calls again let me know, alright?” Pale asks, climbing the steps of the stage and assuming his position at the piano.

“Sure thing sir.” The kid gave a sharp nod and scurried off into the velvet seats, scribbling away on the clipboard.

 Pale didn’t like conducting. Fucking hated it, actually. Hated the way he could never figure out what the fuck that little baton was doing. He knew somewhere in the back of his head that it was keeping time or something like that, knew that it was for the rhythm or tempo or some shit, but he didn’t give a fuck. He knew technically technically technically he was supposed to follow the composer, but in this case, with his symphony, it was the conductor who was following Pale.

They were working on the sonata today, something extra special Pale had written up just for you.

The whole fucking thing was for you, of course it was, it always was.

But the sonata, now that was something Pale had spent hours and hours, days pouring his heart and fucking soul into. He hadn’t let you hear a single note of it, wanted to surprise you, wanted to make it grand and epic – even though he hated that word.

He played his part in it with passion, with ferocity, fingers dancing across the keyboard, pressing deep and hard, as if it were the expanse of your body and not ivory.

It was intense, it was powerful, it was entirely altogether far too intimate, but none of these other fuckin’ jokers could tell, could know what it meant – how it was the way you gasped and writhed underneath him, how it was the way you moaned sharp and loud, how it was the smack of the fucking headboard against the wall, the scraping of a table on the floors as he fucked you hard hard hard.

It was a full thirty fucking minutes long, the sonata, a full half hour of him sweating his balls off at the piano bench, of his hair clinging to his face, of his hands cramping and his back aching but it was so fucking worth it because when the music stops, when the last notes have hung in the air and have been given their chance, when there is nothing but silence and the orchestra is enchanted, enthralled, when they burst into applause, it’s worth it.

And then the applause is over because really this is just practice, this is just rehearsal, and he needs to practice more because there are notes he missed, he knows there are, keys he hit wrong and tempos he needs to keep steady.

But the conductor, some young guy fresh out of Julliard, gives them all a big grin when he stands.

“Okay, that was good, really good you guys! Let’s take a lunch break and we’ll meet back here, okay?” The conductor says, and everyone breaks out into chatter. He had a funny way of starting and ending him sentences the same way, had a funny way of doing just about everything, Pale thought.

But he didn’t give a shit, it wasn’t like he listened to the kid at all anyway.

He was just wiping his brow with the small handkerchief he kept in his pocket when Nicky ran over from the sidelines.

“Pale! Call for you.” He said, making Pale’s eyebrows shoot up.

“From her?” He demanded, already collecting his shit and storming over to the wing where Nicky had the receiver pressed against his chest.

“Nah, man named Fischel.” He said, and Pale sighed – he couldn’t tell if it was from relief or something else, but he nodded.

“Okay let me have it.” He said, reaching his hand out for the phone. Nicky gave him the whole thing, and Pale walked around with it, tucking the phone in between his cheek and shoulder so he could light up a cigarette. “Fish! How are you?”

“I’m doin’ real good Pale, real good. How about you?” Your boss had become his business partner, and the two had struck up somewhat of a friendly relationship.

Pale didn’t have many of those, none at all that didn’t involve some kinda back door bullshit. It was nice, even if the man was really fuckin’ old and maybe not his first choice of company.

“I’m alright, just in the middle of some concerto shit. What can I help ya with?” Pale asked, wondering if something was going on with the restaurant.

Pale’s schedule was pretty fuckin’ booked, between managing the restaurant in the city and working on the symphony at the concert hall. He’d spend a decent ten hours workin’ in the diner and then hop over to the Lincoln Center to do some practicin’ before he fucked off to go be with you.

Saturdays he went in for the whole day and Sundays he gave himself off. You took Sundays off too now, so the two of yous could always count on spending the day together.

Pale worried for just a fuckin’ second that of course one of the two days he doesn’t show up to the restaurant, some shit goes down, but with the way Fish was chuckling, Pale didn’t think so.

“I was just callin’ to check on you and (Y/N), see how you were doin’.” Fish said, soundin’ a little, just a tiny bit, accusatory.  

“Oh we’re real good, thanks – why did she say somethin’?” Pale asked, sucked in a big deep drag of his cigarette, mind racing racing racing.

“Nah, I’m just happy for you guys, wanted to make sure you were still good.” Fish said, “Good to know you’re good.”

None of that sounded convincing, none of it at all. It made Pale’s heart beat too fast, like he was gonna fuckin’ stroke out or something, like he was gonna have a heart attack.

“Okay Fish what’s really on your mind?” He asked, wanting to cut right to the chase.

“Why do I gotta have somethin’ on my mind?” Fish asked, defensive, which basically gave him the fuck away. Pale stayed silent on the phone for a minute or two, enough time for Fish to sigh and say real low, “Someone’s been callin’ after you.”

Oh jesus, he thought to himself, knowing exactly how that might look.

“A woman?” Pale asked, already feeling the beginning of a headache coming on despite smoking. He wondered if sticking a second one in his mouth would make him feel any better.

“Yeah.” Fish said, suspicious.

“Lemme guess, didn’t leave a name? Hung up as soon as you asked?” Pale grit his teeth when Fish hummed in mild surprise.

“Yeah, you know anything about that?” He asked, trying to play it cool, but that only pissed Pale off some more.

“Listen, if you think I’m cheatin’ on her, on (Y/N), don’t – that ain’t what’s goin’ on. Someone’s been blowin’ up all the fucking phones lookin’ for me but I don’t know who, they just keep callin’ and hangin’ up. I don’t know why, but it ain’t some side-chick or nothin’.” Pale said, maybe said a little too loud, maybe said it a little too angry.

“You sure?” Fish asked, ever the skeptic, and Pale wanted to throw something.

“Yeah I’m fuckin’ sure and as a matter of fuckin’ fact, I’m getting real fuckin’ irritated by this broad.” He snapped, and something in his voice must have signaled that he was telling the truth because he could hear Fish sigh on the other end of the line and suck his teeth in thought.

“Alright. I trust you. But you better find this girl and get her under control before (Y/N) thinks somethin’ fucked up is goin’ on, you know what I’m sayin’? I don’t want her breakin’ her heart over an assumption.” Fish said, and Pale calmed down, tried to calm down anyway, because he only cared about you.

“Listen the next time she calls, if she calls, pretend to be me for just long enough to get her name, okay? (Y/N) ain’t workin’ today, she’s out shopping – ” He said, making Fish exclaim in shock.

“She’s shopping?” He asked, and Pale had to laugh at that; you were notoriously stubborn when it came to Pale treating you to nice shit.

“Yeah, finally got her to take some cash and go out for once.” Pale said, scrubbing a hand down his face, smoking the last of the cigarette, wondering if he could steal enough time for a second one.

“Good for her.” Fish said, and Pale nodded, even though there was no way he could see it.

“Anyway she ain’t gonna be at work so the phone shouldn’t be a problem, I doubt this chick has my home phone number, whoever the fuck she is. But if she calls you again just pretend to be me and let me know who this stalker is, would ya?” Pale asked, and Fish hummed to himself for a while.

“I ain’t got your tone of voice but I can give it my best shot – oh I know I’ll have one of the line cooks say somethin’, he’s got a deper voice than me.” The old man said, and Pale made a mental check to buy him and his wife some flowers or something, just for being good people.

“Alright, thanks Fish. Sorry about all this, I promise ya I ain’t fuckin’ around, (Y/N)’s my one and only.” Pale said, finding that there had never been more truth in a statement than the one he just gave.

Fish had a smile in his voice when he said,

“She god damn well better be, or else they’ll be fishin’ you outta the fuckin’ river.”

“Don’t blame ya. Listen I gotta go, but give me a call if you hear anything else, okay?” Pale laughed, relieved to hear the old man chuckling on the other line.

“No problem, talk to you later.” Fish said, before hanging up.

 The next three hours whizzed by thanks to the help of the music and some blow.

He found he always worked best, always performed best when he was high off his ass, when he could practically see the fucking notes as they flew from his fingertips, sweating hands slipping and sliding off the keys. They plowed through the symphony, the violins and the brass and the woodwinds all melting together with the piano all cohesive, and Pale felt crazy, felt like he was soaring, like he could never do anything wrong.

At the end of the day, when everyone was out of breath and their hands all hurt and the sun had dipped down below the city skyline, and Pale’s high was beginning to crash and burn into something making him grouchy, making him exhausted, he closed the piano with a bit of a bang.

“Alright, I’m callin’ it for today. Anyone got any concerns or anything?” He asked, and no one spoke up which for once was a fuckin’ miracle. Usually somebody, anybody, everybody had something they wanted to fuckin’ say.

Maybe they thought Pale was in a bad enough mood to not want to tempt him, and he was glad for their foresight.

“See you guys in a week then, keep practicing, we’re gonna be great.” He assured everyone, because they needed assurance – it was a young orchestra, or at least filled with a lot of young new musicians. They needed reward to all the hard work, and Pale didn’t mind giving it to them if it meant they played better.

Pale gave a nod to everyone, and they all erupted into casual chatter amongst themselves, the different sections of the orchestra splitting off into their own groups for dinner and drink plans. Pale was starvin’, but he would wait until he ate with you to get his fill.

He wondered what you did today, had half a mind to call the house and ask you, but between everything he was gettin’ real fuckin’ sick of phone calls. He knew you’d be home for him when he walked through the door, knew you’d be waitin’ and wantin’ for him, knew you’d be eager to tell you everything.

He didn’t like the thought of you going out shopping all by yourself, paranoid that somethin’ might happen to you, but you were a big girl, a tough girl, you could handle yourself.

Still, as he walked to the bathroom he kept thinkin’ of ya, kept wondering.

The concert hall was somethin’ of a magical place, and on the walk to the men’s room, he thought about what you might think of it. What you might think of the sound of harmonic violins and low thrum of timpanies. He wondered if you’d like to listen to the swell of the orchestra as they all tuned up – that was his favorite part anyway, the tuning.

One section at a time, all matching intonation, all blending their sound. You liked the classical music he kept in his apartment well enough, you had loved the symphony he brought you to, all that time ago. Maybe the next time he had to come into the theater, if you were free maybe you’d come with him.

You were his good luck charm after all.

The bathroom was empty, thankfully, and Pale smoked his cigarette as he pissed into the urinal, as he scrubbed his hands with bar soap. He didn’t trust the liquid shit, didn’t trust hand sanitizer. Nah, he only liked good ol’ fuckin’ fashioned lye and oil bar soap. He watched as his ash flicked into the sink, watched as it was washed away with the suds and bubbles.

He looked at his hands – did they always look like this? He studied them for a minute, the manicured fingernails, the scarred knuckles from too many back alley fights. The ones from where he fuckin’ deck Marty’s face so hard he nearly broke the kid in two made him smile, just a little bit, because he was proud of those, but he was proud of little else.

He sighed and rinsed his hands off, studied his face in the mirror. Fuck, he looked like his father, he thought. When the hell did that happen.

He had a fleeting thought that maybe one day, his son would have the same thought, and he grimaced – that was, until he noticed a slight silver strand near his temple and he damn near inhaled the whole fuckin’ cigarette in a moment of shock.

He shoved his face up right to the mirror, goin’ damn near cross-eyed to see the fuckin’ grey hair, single grey hair wisping down with the rest of his locks.

Without thinking, he ripped it out of his head, heart racing.

He didn’t have time for this, he thought, didn’t have time to be spiraling now. He stubbed out the cigarette and lit up a fresh one, chain smoked his way out of the bathroom and down the hall to the main doors where he could get the fuck out of the concert hall and head back home to you.

He only got so fuckin’ far though, when Nicky stopped him in the hallway with a wave, hand clasped over the receiver of a telephone with a long ass cord, cord pulled tight.

“Pale!” Nicky whisper-yelled, pointing to the phone with urgency, “It’s her.”

Pale’s jaw clenched, and he stormed over to Nicky and grabbed the phone, harshly shoving it up under his ear as he smoked.

“Yeah hello?” He asked, angry, because why the fuck wouldn’t this chick leave him alone, “Hello? Who the fuck is this?” He demanded, and maybe that was the wrong way to go about this, maybe he should be polite to get some fuckin’ answers, but his mind was torn between like five fuckin’ different directions and he was just pissed.

There was silence on the other line, but if Pale listened real carefully, he could almost make out breathing. He didn’t recognize it, and it sure as shit wasn’t you – wasn’t anyone that he knew, otherwise they woulda just come out and say something already – and his already low patience was growing ever thinner.

“Why don’t you just say what the fuck you want from me, huh? What do you want?” He snapped, voice starting to raise, starting to yell.

He didn’t want to lose his temper but he was definitely fucking starting to yell.

“Alright you know I’ve had about enough of your little fuckin’ games. Stop fuckin’ callin’ me, whoever you are, you hear me? I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t know who you are, I don’t fuckin’ care. You call this number again and you’re gonna wish you never fuckin’ picked up the phone in the first fuckin’ place, you got that?” he spit, acid in his voice, face going red.

People stopped in the hallway to look at him, to stare, and they kept walking, not wanting to bother him, not wanting to get in his way.

“I – ” The voice finally said, but Pale didn’t give a shit anymore, he missed you, wanted you, not to be on the phone with some girl.

So he slammed the phone down and hung up, hoping that whoever it was on the other line could feel the ring in their ear from the force of it.

 His ride back to the apartment had him all fucking aggravated. If he had been annoyed with the subway that morning, he was downright pissed off. The phone call didn’t sit right with him – he hated people trying to get a hold of him. Hated people leaving messages but hated when they just didn’t say what they wanted even more. He didn’t like feeling like he was being hunted down or something, didn’t like that it was makin’ him look suspicious, like he was sneaking around behind your back.

He wasn’t, lord knows he wasn’t. And of all the fuckin’ things too, all the fucking timing in the world, it had to be today.

Christ, he thought to himself, another year older, another year wiser – wasn’t that the fuckin’ phrase? He didn’t feel too wise, but he sure as shit felt old. Especially with the grey fuckin’ hair he ripped outta his head.

“Bullshit.” He muttered, as the elevator doors slide open, “It’s nothin’ but bullshit. I work too god damned hard all the god damned time to be dealin’ with this.” He knew he was talkin’ to himself, but he didn’t care, he’d be with you soon.

He punched the buttons with maybe too much force, reached into the pocket of his leather jacket maybe too quickly, too eagerly, and pulled out the small vial of coke he kept stashed on him. Not enough to do much but give him a real good buzz, and fuck knows he needed one, needed somethin’.

He tipped it onto the back of his hand, snorted it right up, real easy, licked up whatever might be left and stuffs the tiny thing back into his pocket, waiting and watching as the numbers go up up up, and he starts to feel better.

He doesn’t like comin’ home to you in a bad mood, see? Doesn’t like walkin’ through the front door with a frown on his face, not to you. You didn’t deserve none of that, none of the bullshit.

But he does walk through the front door, and he does frown, because he’s confused – thinks he’s hallucinatin’, because since when the fuck are there flower petals all over the floor?

“(Y/N)?” He called out, starting to feel like he’s on top of the world, starting to feel like king of it all. He wanted to bury his face in your tits and make you come on his tongue, wants to come all over you, make you sloppy.

Fuck there was little that he loved more than making you sloppy.

“In here.” You called back from deep in the apartment and fuck, you sounded so good, your voice music to his ears, music and melodic and all the good fuckin’ things Pale’s brain can’t come up with right now because all he can think of is you.

His feet carried him to the bedroom, follows the rose petals to where it’s nice and dark, real dark, the window open a bit to let the cold air of autumn blow in, and there you are on the bed, candles lit all around you like he summoned you straight from his own personal hell.

If this is hell, he thinks, let him be damned.

“Fuck sweetheart you’re gonna kill me,” He groaned, his pants suddenly so tight, too tight, as you sit up on your knees on the bed, wrapped up in the prettiest fuckin’ lingerie Pale had ever seen. “You look too good, you leave the fuckin’ house like this? You leave the house lookin’ like this, like a perfect fuckin’ whore? Where’d you get this huh? Gotta go give them a thank you note, gotta get my hands on you holy shit look at your tits.” He rambles on and on, already shucking his jacket, already tossing it to the floor.

Your body is hidden behind black lace, but it’s not really hidden, not at all.

He feels a thousand miles high, and he grabbed at you, but you just grinned and stopped his hands from groping at you the way he wants.

“No – ” He frowned again, still confused, mind racing racing racing because is that your perfect nipple he can see through the sheer black fabric that could only barely be considered a bra?

“Happy birthday.” You curled yourself around him, looked up at him with those doe eyes of yours, and he tugged his hands free so he can grab your jaw, give your face a little shake.

Anxiety swooped in his stomach for a second, the briefest of seconds, because he wasn’t ready to be confronted with that, not yet, not fuckin’ yet. He swallowed around a lump in his throat and licked into your mouth, kissed you hot and wet as your hands dropped to his jeans, worked on the belt buckle and button, worked on easin’ his zipper down down down.

“How’d you find out it was my birthday?” He grumbled against your lips, and he’s sweating now, sweating as he pushed you backwards onto the mattress, rose petals fluttering away from the movement.

“I went lookin’.” You said nonchalantly, and that almost scared the shit out of him because where the hell could you have found that?

“Oh yeah?” He said back, climbing on top of you, already snapping the elastic of your bra, of your panties, of your garters that hold up your fishnet stockings.

You arched for him, stretched out like a great big cat, and his mouth salivates. He forgets all about the grey fuckin’ hair and the bullshit at work and the phone call he got that’s rattled his fucking brain, and he dives into you.

“Yeah.” You hummed when he sets his sights on your neck, when he licks his tongue across the golden chain you’ve kept on for damn near a year, his cock hard in his briefs, even harder when you reach down to grasp it. “So, happy birthday.”

He crinkled his nose at the sentiment, even though it’s comin’ from you, even though you make everything better.

“I’m an old man.” He huffed, bit down hard on your shoulder, hands splaying over the lace of your bra. He wanted to rip it up, rip it off, and he wondered if you’d let him. Wondered if you’d be pissed at him or if you’d think it’s sexy.

He ripped it off and you laughed, you kissed him.

“You’re my man.” You shook your head, kissed and kissed and kissed him until he’s moaning against your lips, hips rutting up against your thigh as he shoved you further up the bed.

He’s going to have fun with you tonight, he already knows.

“Say it again.” He demands, and you do, you tipped your head back for him and he buried his face in your cleavage like he’d been wanting to do all day, kissed the flesh of your freed breasts, nipples hardening from the cold air, from his touch.

“You’re my man.” You gasped, hand going up to his hair as he bites and sucks marks that he knows is going to turn bright red. He sucked some more.

“And you’re my present?” He asked, real cheeky like, because of course you’d be so sweet, of course you’d give him something like this, this chance to really peel you apart layer by layer – too bad he was impatient and an asshole, too bad he ripped up those layers instead of savorin’ them.

You didn’t mind, you never minded, you think it’s – what was the word? Endearing. You loved him.

“Why don’t you open me up and find out?” You asked with a wink, and Pale sucked his teeth with a smirk, eager to do just that.

 It never got old, he found, the unraveling of your legs, the parting of your pussy, the opening of your body to him. Each and every fucking time it was always like magic, like a drug, even better than the fucking coke – if anything could be. If it could be, it was this, he thinks to himself as he pried your legs apart.

And you’re go fucking good for him the way you wriggled up and up the bed, face already blushing and hot, he can feel hot fucking hot you are from there, as his hands wandered up and over you, down and around, pulled and pushed you how he wanted.

The coke buzzed in his veins and he growled as he yanked your panties down, tossed it across the room, snapping the garters on the way. He liked the fishnets, liked how they warped and stretched over the flesh of your thighs, your calves. He dug his hands into them, wondered if they would leave an imprint.

“I’m gonna eat this cunt of yours, because I deserve it, ain’t that right?” He asked, not that it was really ever a question of if he deserved it or not. If he thought about it too hard, he might come to the conclusion that no, he doesn’t really, but you don’t deny him either way.

“Yeah, you do, it’s yours.” You gasped as he settled himself between your legs, ignoring his cock for just a minute or two as he licked a hot stripe up your cunt.

You moaned and let a hand fly down to his hair, let yourself grip tight at the base of his scalp, and he practically purred into your pussy, thrust his tongue in as deep as it could go, ate you out like it was his last meal on earth. He could die happy, die just like this, suffocate in your cunt.

He decided he was going to take his time with you to make up for the quickie he had to give you earlier that morning. Decided he was going to drag it all out as long as he possibly could, make you come as many times as he could.

And oh, he could.

“You better come down my fucking throat, don’t you fucking hold out on me, okay?” He pulled away, smacked the outside of your thigh so hard that the sound of it startled you.

“Okay okay okay, I’ll come, make me come.” You laughed, a laugh that dissolved into a great big moan as he lowered his head back down.

You tasted like heaven, like pure sweet sex, like everything he had ever hoped and dreamed and longed for, all right there, right between your legs. Your pussy throbbed for him, your hips undulating in short little movements that had Pale’s chest growing warm.

He stroked your walls with his tongue, held your hip and your thigh steady so you wouldn’t go jerkin’ around or nothing, so you couldn’t go wriggling away like you were wont to do sometimes when things got too overwhelming. He wanted you overwhelmed, wanted you babbling.

He grazed his teeth over your clit and you had to throw one of your legs over his shoulder, the heel of your foot digging into his back, digging into the suit jacket he still hadn’t taken off, that he could feel he was sweating through. He didn’t give a shit, just kept licking at you, spelled his name, whispered secrets there, you moaning and panting all the while.

He liked you like that, liked that he could see your skin going shiny with sweat, liked that he could hear the whine in your throat as you fisted his hair.

He felt you coming before he tasted it, felt the way you tensed up for a split second, the way your knees locked around him, the way your toes curled. He couldn’t help but smirk right into your cunt, drinking all your come as it pulsed into his mouth.

“Good girl.” He pulled away, glanced up at you through the valley of your tits, nipples rock hard against the air.

But you, sweet thing that you were, you weren’t finished, there’s no way you could be, not ever satisfied until you got his cock in you, and you were already licking your lips, already reaching for him, trying to pull him up by his cheeks, by his ears.

“Pale, please – ” You said, but he lunged up to kiss you, cutting you off, bruising your lips with his own in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

He stroked your face with his sticky fingers, smeared your come and sweat around, licked and licked the corner of your mouth as his hand pinched at one of your nipples so hard that he could feel more of your come sliding out of your cunt, onto his thigh.

“Be patient, greedy whore.” He said, dropping his hand down to your pussy, making you gasp and moan as he fucked you with your own slick, two big fingers slowly slowly pumping in and out of you, making your hips lift up to try and get more friction, “It’s my fuckin’ birthday, ain’t it?”

“Uh huh.” You nodded, and Pale smirked.

“Then we’re gonna do what I want.” He said, plain and simple, and you pouted, didn’t like not getting your way. Greedy.

“What do you want?” You asked, voice hoarse, and he hummed, hummed and hummed and pretended to think while he fingered you, while your hand grasped at his wrist to prevent him from pulling away, while he sank down the bed just enough to ease your other nipple between his teeth.

“I want you to cry for me.” He said, adding a third finger to your pussy. His ring, middle, and index finger were doing their best to bring tears to your eyes, and they succeeded, especially when he included his thumb into the mix, using that to barely barely barely rub your clit.

He sucked on your nipple as he fingered you, and he had a hard time keeping the grin off his face when your hips thrust into his hand, when you really started fucking yourself on his fingers, when he lets you use him for your pleasure.

“Yes! Oh, oh Pale.” You cried, fat tears sliding down your cheeks and soaking into your hair, into the pillowcase below.

“Yeah that’s right, say my name, say my fucking name – shout it out. I want the whole fucking city to know who owns this pussy.” He snarled, suddenly taking control again, sliding his pinky into you too.

Fuck, he could fist you, could stick his whole hand in you if he wanted, could reach all the way inside you and fucking punch your cunt from the inside out.

The thought was addicting, absolutely fucking addicting, even moreso than the coke, than the music, than anything else.

“Pale! You do, I’m yours, I’m your whore – spit on me do whatever I’m yours.” You sobbed as he did what you asked, leaned back enough to spit right on your cunt, used it as lube even though you were drenched, you were sopping wet, his hand glistening and shining as he dragged it in and out of you.

He was so hard in his pants, leaking, he could feel himself leaking, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck you so badly but he wanted you to come again first, wanted you to fucking go at it again, wanted it to blow your fucking mind.

He sped up and up and up, until you were convulsing under him, until you were sobbing loud, orgasm hitting you so hard that you were bleeding from how hard you bit your lips.

He pulled his hand away abruptly, watching your cunt gape and wink at him, watching your pussy flutter, watching your stomach tense and your chest heave as you sobbed and sobbed, as your knees fell open and you were nothing more than a limp, twitching mess.

He shucked all his clothes off, did another little bump of coke, just the tiniest bit, emptied the rest of his little vial down his nose and under his lips, sliding into you real easy.

You took him no problem, pussy already contracting around his cock as he pounded you. He didn’t want to take his time with this, he wanted to blow his load as deep in you as he could go. He imagined it shooting up into your stomach, up your throat, into your mouth, imagined you swallowing it back down again.

He knew that wasn’t, it wasn’t how that worked, but fuck the thought turned him on so much he groaned and growled in your ear.

You were still crying, hiccupping, as he fucked into you, rammed his cock so hard and fast that it was all he could do but hold onto your hips, keep you pinned beneath him. He had to re-arrange you so that you were lying on your stomach, propped up on pillows because you had gone so limp as he shoved his cock into your wet cunt from behind, making you drool and drool.

He wasn’t going to last, not like this, not with the blood rushing to his cock, making him dizzy dizzy dizzy. He wanted one more from you, knew it was too much to ask, he knew that – but he wanted it anyway, wanted to make you scream, wanted everyone to know it was him, only him, always him.

“Again, do it again.” He demanded, bit down hard at the spot where your neck and shoulder met, but you only moaned loud and high.

“I – I can’t.” You whined, eyes shut tight tight tight, mouth dropped open, gasping for breath. God you looked a fucking wreck, it was gorgeous, everything about you was gorgeous.

“Yes you can, be good for me, you can be good, can’t you?” He murmured, soft and sweet as his balls slapped hard against your ass, as your shoulders pinched back, regaining some ability to move once more, using that ability to meet his hips for every thrust.

“Pale it’s so much.” You said despite all that, despite going back for more and more.

He pulled your hair away from your face, licked up your tears there as he fucked you, as he could feel his own orgasm start to creep up on him, as he could feel himself grow more and more desperate.

He wanted one more out of you, just one more, before he came in you.

“I know sweetheart I know, you can keep going, I know you can.” He soothed you with his words as his big hands gripped too tight, left real bruises there that would make you sore, bruises he’d press his fingertips into later, to remind you of the sweet sting, “You’re such a pretty slut.”

“Pale – I – oh fuck!” You shouted, coming one last time, making Pale finally fucking come, finally push his hips into you with enough force that it knocked you down off your elbows.

It felt like the crashing waves of the ocean, like the slam of cymabls, like the roar of a thunderstorm, coming into you, coming and coming, pining you down and filling you with it, hot and thick.

He felt victorious in a sick sort of way, god he had you, he was the only lucky bastard to ever have you.

“You ain’t never had a cock like mine huh baby?” He asked, as his hips came to a slow roll, as he fucked his come in and out of you, felt it squelch around his cock, felt it drip all over the sheets. “Say it.”

“No, never, only you.” He was proud at reducing you to this, to barely being able to speak a few words. He did that to you, made you come that hard.

“Fucking ruined you for any other dick huh? Never gonna have anything like this again huh?” He asked, and you gulped down big breaths of air as you tried to breathe, tried to get yourself together, even as he milked your orgasms for what it was worth.

“No no no, never, you’re the only one – oh Christ.” You moaned when he dropped a hand back to your clit, made you sob for him just a little more, trapped you.

You pushed your hips away from his hand only to fuck yourself deeper onto his cock, and you were shaking shaking shaking all over, all over, hands flexing and gripping the sheets, searching for a reprieve where there was only more acute pleasure.

When he pulled out, it was careful, so so careful, not wanting to hurt you. A huge pang of regret hit his chest in the fear that he had done real damange, that he had hurt you, and he spent time carefully checking over you, asking you if you were alright, bringing you water and wiping you down with a soft towel, one that wouldn’t irritate your skin.

You looked asleep, looked almost like you had blacked out, but when he shuffled under the covers with you and looped his arms around you, you smiled, little tremors running through your body.

He wondered when it started, when the sex became second best, second only to the moments like these, the moments where he gets to just lay with you. You’re covered in tears and there’s spit all over the place, spit and sweat, a lazy hand swirling it where it’s pooled in the dip of your navel. Your whole body is flushed and blotchy and your breathing is still uneven, and Pale can’t help but think you’re perfect.

The sex was incredible, but this, this was always something else, something he had never had before.

After a long time, a long long time, when he was sure you really had fallen asleep, you bit your lips and tapped his chest, getting his attention – as if it weren’t always on you anyway.

“I wanted your opinion on somethin’.” You whispered in the quiet, voice hoarse from all the shouting, all the yelling.

“How’s that honey?” He asked, voice soft and gentle, always gentle with you after being too rough, his hand caressing your back.

“My apartment. Lease is almost up you know.” You said, and he nods.

“Yeah, I know.” He said back, yawning great and big, as you trace his gold chain with the very tip of your finger.

“I was thinking maybe I wasn’t gonna renew it.” You said, making him crack an eye open to look at you.

“Are you bein’ serious right now or did the fucking get to your head?” He asked, and you grinned, and he pinched your cheek, your nose, only making you grin even more.

“I’m bein’ serious. I was thinking maybe…I could not renew the lease, and instead move in. Here, with you. You know I just figure since I’ve been spending a lot of time here, and I’ve already got so much stuff moved over from my place. And it could be nice to have this, have you to come home to when you come home. You wouldn’t have to deal with my walk-up or my neighbors or Marty or nothin’, we could just be here together.” You said, like you had been rehearsing, like you had been practicing. And he was entirely on board until you said, “I could help with rent, we could split it halfsies.”

“No.” He shook his head abruptly, making your gaze fall, your hand withdraw from where he had been running over and over the gold.

“…Oh. Okay – ” You said, and he wanted to kick himself because fuck he didn’t realize how that sounded.

“Huh, no! No not no, I meant, no you ain’t gonna split the rent with me at all. You ain’t gonna pay for rent, not with me.” He said, cupping your cheeks in his hand, makin’ you look up at him.

“Pale but this place has to be expensive – ” You frowned, but he shook his head, kissed you real gentle on the mouth, kissed reassurance into your lips.

“Yeah, and? I got it, I don’t want you spendin’ any money, okay? Not on shit like this. You’re gonna live here and you’re not gonna worry about anythin’, okay? I mean it.” He said, adamant, and your eyes lit up.

“You really want me to stay?” You whispered, and Pale wondered if he’d not been doin’ a good job at making you feel wanted, if you had to ask a question like that.

“I’ve wanted you to stay for damn near a year, (Y/N).” He said, making you grin, “I’ve wanted you to stay ever since I first saw you through that window of yours. I want you to be here in the mornings with me so I can fuck you awake, so I can come in your mouth for breakfast and I want you to make coffee for me while I bitch about the construction and I want you to paint your toenails on the fire escape so the smell of the acetone don’t stink up the living room. I want you to go out shopping and come home in lingerie that I get to rip off. I want to dance with you in the fuckin’ dining room and the living room and the bedroom and I want you to cry on my cock all the time.”

“I’m gonna have to sell all my furniture.” You laughed, crying for something different, for a whole different reason, and Pale just wiped the happy tear away, licked it off his thumb.

“No you’re not, move it over, your shit’s only across the fuckin’ street.” He said, before pinching at your cheek and teasing, “It ain’t like you got anything anyway.”

“Shut the fuck up,” You giggled, blissed out and euphoric, “Where am I gonna put my tub?”

“It can go in the second bathroom, if you want. We don’t got a tub here, only the shower.” He said, he didn’t care, he was over the fucking moon.

You could put the tub anywhere you damn well pleased, could put it right in the fucking bedroom if you wanted, he didn’t care. He suddenly just so overcome with affection, adoration, love for you, for wanting him, wanting to be and stay with him.

“I’m glad you moved here.” You said, sincerity in your eyes and deep deep in your chest, “I don’t think I ever said that before. But I am.”

“I’m glad too. If for only because of you. The traffic’s a bitch and the people suck and the air ain’t clean and people are dyin’ all the time, dyin’ in the streets and in the parks and in their apartments, but at least I got you. No where else has you.” He said, took a second just to look at you, just to admire how beautiful you were, “They say that somewhere between living and dreaming, there’s New York. I don’t know, I think between living and dreaming, there’s you.”

You blushed, always so soft for him, for his words when he gives them to you like this, when he can finally figure out how to express himself to you.

He had a bit of a hard time sometimes, expressing himself to you, but he’d gotten better, this past year – had tried, anyway.

“Is that a grey hair?” You asked randomly, letting your fingers comb through his locks, and he groaned.

“For fucks sake, another one?” He asked, already searching for a mirror in the side-table drawer, making you laugh and tug him back down to cuddle up with you under the covers.

“What? No! Don’t rip it out.” You insisted, smacking his hand away, grabbing it and bringing it to your lips where you could kiss the knuckles there, the back of his hands.

“Why not?” He frowned, thinking of how he yanked one out earlier.

“I like it. Makes you look distinguished.” You grinned up at him, and his heart thudded in his chest.

“You sayin’ I looked unimpressive before?” He teased, and you just laughed, and he laughed, and for a little while, everything felt like it was going to be perfect forever.

Until there was a pounding on the front door, that had you both startled.

“What was that?” You asked, as you sat up straight away, reacting to the noise with annoyance rather than fear.

You were out of the bed in an instant, as the pounding resumed, putting on your big soft robe Pale had gotten you and storming out of the room.

Pale scrambled, not knowing who the fuck it was, not knowing it they were a dangerous person or not. He threw on some clothes too, pulled his own robe tight around his hips and chased after you, panic flooding his system as he tried to recall if he had pissed anyone off.

“(Y/N), wait a fuckin’ second let me – ” He rushed, when the pounding on the door didn’t stop.

“Open the fucking door!” A voice called from the other side, and Pale’s blood ran cold, chilled right through his fucking body, because he recognized that voice, knew exactly who it had belonged to.

How the fuck had she found him?

“Okay just shut the fuck! Up!” He shouted, irritation and rage consuming him as he yanked the door open, as the two of you were met with a slap in the face each from the well manicured hand of a woman Pale honestly thought he wouldn’t have to fucking see in person again for a long long time.

“You got some real fucking nerve talking to me like that.” She hissed at him, bullying her way into the apartment, rounding on you with her hand poised to slap you again, “And you!” She shouted, making Pale’s protective instinct kick into overdrive as he stepped between you and her, as he grabbed her arms and shook her like some fucking psychotic rag doll.

“Hey! What the fuck is the matter with you? Hey! Fucking look at me.” Pale shouted in her face while you stood stunned behind him, eyes wide, confused and scared, “You ever touch (Y/N) like that again I swear to god I’ll break your fuckin’ bones, Barbie.” He shook her hard again before dropping his grip on her with such force she stumbled back against the wall.

“Don’t call me that Jimmy, you piece of shit.” She spit on the floor, literally spit on his floor, red in the face and seething.

“Pale who – ” You finally spoke up, arms snaking around his middle from behind, wanting to keep him close to you.

“I’m his wife.” She sneered, and Pale wanted to scream, because of course she would pull a stunt like this, of course.

“(Y/N), this is Barabra.” He said through a clenched jaw, already trying to race through what the fuck it was she could possibly want.

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

Tagging some pals! As always please let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off the tag list <3  @fullofbees​ @spinebarrel​ @dreamboatdriver​ @thecurlycaptain​ @bourbonboredom​ @driverficarchive​ @rosalynbair​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @adamsnackdriver​ @glitzescape​ @adamsnacc-kler​ @kyloxfem​ @fallin-for-youreyes @kylo-renne​ @attorneyl​ @jedihbic​ @bens-rose​ @callmehopeless​ @formerly-anonhamster​ @thepilotanon​ @hippieface​ @tinyplanet-explorers​ @satansstrawberry

[perogipoj]

all this before coffee

Dedicated to my black sheep family, who will always be golden.

 Barbed wire, blank walls and an empty sky. Cocoa Beach.  Brevard County, FL. Jail.  Also known as SHARPS.  Tammy walked into the classroom with an air of bravado coupled with the eyes of a child. I never met a teacher before she said shyly, glancing at her handcuffs on the uncomfortable chair.  Even … I hesitated, even in school, I asked gently. I adjusted my own hips to adjust for the cold hard beneath me.  I mean, a teacher for real.  Her eyes looked down, and I implored with my eyes this time to the corrections officer to remove the handcuffs.  Her shoulder length hair was marred by black roots and mustard colored ends.  There were scars on her arm from cutting.  Her teeth were perfect when she decided to smile. Opening the GRE materials, I joked that I am useless at math but fairly good at grammar.  Tammy looked beautiful.

 Some of us take many things too far.  That has seemed to be my pattern.  Even healthy habits turned into obsessions.  Jogging turned into running which became marathons and a cruel treatment of my body.  Some can run into their seventies without injury as some people live to a hundred while smoking and drinking whiskey to the end.  Mindful eating became anorexia and bulimia.  Going organic made me broke with the kombucha and hemp that flowed through my veins.  Being tidy led me to compulsive house cleaning, often with bleach scouring my hands and my eyes colored in pink tears.  Personal grooming turned to hours and dollars of hair coloring, clothes I could not afford, Botox, and breast augmentation. Wanting affirmation led to dangerous and toxic sexual situations.  

 Jaylen, I was warned, was “special.”  I would normally groan inward, used to so many parents highlighting their children as such, usually to explain poor grades.   The volunteer walked all twelve years of Jaylen, his mannerisms large and chaotic, into the room in which all toys and colors were removed.  I hate reading, he said, standing with his arms crossed in front of him like a knight.  Why? It’s stupid.  Can you read, I asked, opening the second-grade reader I was given. I don’t need to read, I can dance.

 I met The Peruvian on a last minute, pathetic online date.  I was at a job expo to acquire my first teaching job after finishing my master’s degree at a world-famous university.  I almost flunked out.  I could not focus.  I cried over social histories in German, a language I lacked grammatical skill in, dreading the meetings with just my professor and another grad student. Black tea, discussions of Marx I got lost in, his approval nodding at the stout Russian girl I already had difficulty understanding in English, never mind in German.  In college, I was stellar.  On time to each class, writing papers late into the night with a gusto of my fingers and a smile on my face.  The world looked bright. On a sweltering day with an incompressible and unimportant commencement speaker, we burnt in the sun and passed around a flask of vodka under our graduation gowns.  Life is beginning.  I held the parchment color graduation schedule. My name had a star next to it.

 I saw that Tammy was no longer shackled when she entered the gray room.  Since the week I met with her, she had elevated herself to the trusted inmates who could clean, deliver meals, and hand out the dog-eared pages of books on a squeaky cart.  So, you scored extremely high on many levels, Tammy.  Let’s take a look at the reading comprehension packet I assigned on The Scarlet Letter.  She smiled more brightly.  I pressed her for intrigue. Ma’am, she said glowing, my commissary is so lit now I don’t have to eat the garbage they give us.  They try to pass off expired food when I deliver it.  I wanted to call them out on those pistachios.  I don’t have time to answer these packets you give me. But I read the book.  What did you read, according to you?  We clasped hands.  Of course, the minster got off and Hester had to wear the giant A over her pilgrim costume.  I dipped my head. Of course.  She could read Hawthorne.  

 I will be the gladdest thing

           Under the sun!

I will touch a hundred flowers

           And not pick one.

 I will look at cliffs and clouds

           With quiet eyes,

Watch the wind bow down the grass,

           And the grass rise.

 And when the lights begin to show

           Up from the town,

I will mark which much be mine,

           And then start down.

-          Edna St. Vincent Millay  

 Jaylen came running into the room from the play center and basketball court which I assumed was a courtesy to me.  He needed to get the wiggles out.

 Nassau Point in the summer at Aunt Tillie’s, driving the Long Island Expressway until it ended to countless grey and white mottled roads.  Passing vineyards that used to be potato fields, cramming my mouth with the last bit of contraband Doritos which were called a Special Treat to nullify us on the vast expanse from New Jersey to the tiny white house.  Decorated in “Early American” with a front glass porch smelling oddly pleasant of moth balls and sunlight.  The huge lawn rolling into the bay with a dock that appeared and disappeared with the tide.  Kids took showers in the dank basement, carved out of a space teeming of a hoarder. A crusted bottle of prell shampoo and a withered sliver of ivory soap.  I met Man-Boy With Very Hairy Legs for the first and last time.  Stroking my legs up and down, he asked if I had a boyfriend.  I was ten, and smug that I could run through poison ivy and never get a rash.  Do you want to fool around, like do stuff?  He whispered into my ear everything I did not know yet.  That’s what married people do!  With his laughter, I leapt my long legs and ran, up the hill, to the driveway where my father was shucking corn.  I got away. This time.

 I was so excited to see Tammy.  But she was not in attendance.  I left the CO the beat-up copy of Antigone for her. I never saw Tammy again.  “All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when his course is wrong and repairs the evil.  The only evil is pride.” This quote was for my betterment, not for Tammy’s.

 A time of reckoning, and a time of complete growth.  A time of a schedule not placed by us.  A journey into us through the connection of others, who became best friends.  Vitamin fusions, lining up for medication in ribbed short paper cups, and Group.  Totally released from responsibility, my linens and clothes were washed, returned the same afternoon in compact squares surrounded by plastic wrap.  Jokes of communal constipation. So, this is my brain mapped.  Here is what displays depression, here anxiety, this is insomnia, that part shows a lack of memory and concentration.  What is that big blue of the Pacific Ocean?  She looked at me, clicked her keyboard.  PTSD.  

 I want to draw a Parrot! P-A-R-R-O-T and speak like one! Wordless, I handed him the blue and black expo markers for the old white board.  With precision, he drew the bird.  I need more colors, he explained in one breath can I talk like a parrot.  I smiled at him at led him to his desk. Let’s try to pay attention today, and I will get you more colors and you can show me how a parrot talks. I began my lesson, and his eyes drifted into imagination.  I needed to get him more colors.  

 I told The Peruvian I was pregnant.  Now I can never afford to divorce you he muttered, enraged.  Married two months earlier, I realized our honeymoon baby was not welcome.   The protesters were angry, and I felt sick. Him on his laptop, me crying to a social worker.  Do not sedate me, I plead, I need to feel this sin.  Sliding my shoes off in the car, my trunk grinding with mountain rolls of cramps and uncontrollable sobbing coming from a divine place, I declined lunch in West Palm.  I never want to do anything fun.  Changing my pad alone in a car beneath the ceiling of the parking garage in City Place, I then tilted my head and fell asleep again.  My birthday came and went.  You didn’t remember my birthday.  With that evil glint in his eyes, he turned his head and told me that was because he did not love me.

 I purchased a ream of paper and a new box of 42 colors Crayola, legit, sharpener in the box, for Jaylen.  He immediately sat down and drew and drew.  Can we put some words to these if we use the colors you want?  He looked up at me shyly and wrote down five words from the fifth-grade reader.  How did you know that?  Easy, my Grammy teaches me.

 I did not smoke to fit in. I smoked because it felt good out in the parking lot, vying for shade, with the Tech supplying communal cigarettes and a light.  The wave went through me and my lips burned with the dirt and smoky taste.  You look like Strawberry Shortcake trying to smoke a cigarette!  My mother was a sophisticated Virginia Slims smoker, sitting on the brick steps in her tennis skirt, so beautiful, watching my brother play in the backyard waiting for my father to return from work.  I sat next to her in awe, breathing in the sprinkler water and counting its pattern, hum hum-hum-hum, hum hum-hum-hum.  

 I took a cigarette break on my Uber ride home.  I knew I would not smoke much when I got home.   However, I did not consume much except cigarettes and black coffee.  I felt Parisian.  The house got messy, and my thighs grew softer. Investing only in ponds cold cream and drugstore mascara, I laughed deeper and threw myself into work more than ever, with determined concentration, forgetting my posture, hunched over in zeal working sixty hours a week.   Anxiety attacks did not make my head and hands shake while driving. I binged watched Law and Order.  Being unhealthy never felt so healthy.  

 I called the jail to let them know I am available for other inmates if they needed me.  I went the next day to help a young man learn English as a second language. All went well until he stood up screaming asking for a guard then switching to Spanish.  

 Here is your key, you can find your mailbox in the teacher lounge.  Here is the form to join the union, Mr. Pescatelli will most certainly find you about that.  Do you know what a block schedule is?  In the morning you will be teaching Advanced Placement European History to our magnet students.  After lunch, you have sophomore World History in the fourth wing. The afternoon will have different challenges.  If you ever need assistance, security is just down the hall.  Welcome to Ft. Lauderdale High School.  Welcome to my first year of teaching.  

 …

 I met the Sophisticated Scandinavian Man in Boston in the Spring.  A PhD candidate from a social democracy intrigued me.  I was twenty-two and he was twenty-eight.  I felt like a puppy taken in from the cold.  There is a long story for this, maybe later.  The times in which he devoured me, lavished upon me, he loved a short story I wrote, “All this before coffee.”

 Sonya met me in the prison classroom.  In anticipation of a new student, I posted Jaylen’s parrots, travel posters, pictures of presidents listing their failures before they took office.  Hello, she said, reaching her cuffed wrists out to me.  I am Jaylen’s mother.

 All this before coffee.  All this after a DUI.

[aro-ace-advice]

I've just started high school and I have gotten lots of homework and having lots of tests to study for. Any tips on how to study, manage time or even just handle lots of stress?

ree says: hi anon! as you may know if you’re a long-time follower, i dropped out of high school after one semester to study for my GED independently. my high school experience (however short) was enough to send me into a severe depressive episode, so most of my advice is probably going to be focused on mental health and not so much on things like grades, but i’ll try to include advice for both.

make friends in every class. even if they’re just casual friends, and you don’t become ride-or-die with them, having someone you can ask for homework help in every class will make things a good deal more tolerable.

do your most important homework as soon as you get home. give yourself like 20-30 minutes after you walk in the door to unwind and to eat a snack, and then get started. i always prioritized the subject that i knew would take the longest just to get it out of the way (fuckin algebra). do your daily homework immediately, and spread out your work for the assignments that have a deadline that’s further away. that way when you’re relaxing for the night you can actually enjoy your down time without any too-close deadlines.

don’t study too hard. i’m serious with this one. i know it probably sounds a little silly, since school is all about studying, right? nope. no. absolutely not. i knew kids who would study for hours and hours at a time, and like-- okay that’s fine if you like that sort of thing, but if your studying is constantly taking priority over having fun? stop that! there’s this awful mentality in high school sometimes where you think you don’t deserve to have fun if your studying isn’t done, or if you got a bad grade, and that’s so unhealthy. sometimes you need to let go and do something you enjoy for a little while regardless of your grades or how much work you have left to do. if studying and grades are really important to you and that’s simply not an option, turn your studying into something fun, like a game. i know that’s elementary school advice, but it works! humans have been using music and fun to teach concepts for years, and frankly i don’t understand why schools don’t use that strategy more often. think about nursery rhymes, or theater songs you heard like one time but somehow know all the lyrics to anyway. turn your language vocab into a little song, or your flashcards into one of those memory games. make your math formulas into slam poetry. poring for hours over your textbook will only do so much. it’s important to read them (especially the footnotes), but as long as you’re making sure that you’re reading comprehensively, going over the unit like once or twice every three weeks or so to keep your memory fresh should suffice. 

eat a sustainable amount of food. you’d think i wouldn’t have to mention this, but i’ve known quite a few people (myself included) who will forego food when they’re stressed / depressed / anxious et cetera. sometimes i get so caught up in my work that i forget that i’m hungry, and then i get hangry and yell a lot, and then everybody has a bad time. that isn’t healthy! don’t get into that habit. don’t skip lunch or dinner to study, and eat snacks when you need a boost. your body needs nutrients and learning takes brain energy. take care of your body!

don’t take on a busier schedule than you can handle. you will see kids doing like four AP classes on top of five extracurriculars and still getting good grades. if that’s you, great! if that’s not you, also great! don’t think that just because someone you know can or wants to do all that that you have to do it too. stress levels and class loads do not need to be a competition, and surprisingly, some kids will treat them like they are. if you’re not an AP student, that’s totally fucking okay, got it? if you don’t work and go to school, it’s fine. your worth is not measured by the amount of things you can cram into a week. keep it to the things you actually want to do, and keep it all at a healthy and manageable level. if you decide to do AP classes, you might have to give up something else in your schedule so you don’t overwork yourself. rest and down time is a must. 

school is not, and never will be, more important than your health. i got so miserable in school that i stopped caring that i was depressed, and just sort of went with it. that was bad. i could have gotten even more depressed than i did, but i decided enough was enough and that i needed to find a different way to graduate. high school is not built for everyone, it’s a cookie cutter system. don’t feel bad if your grades slip or you’re not doing so well. not every studying tip you hear from your peers or your teachers is going to work for you, and that’s kind of the problem with high school. your administration will say “this is the way to go about things, if you do it any other way, you’re wrong” with just about everything. study techniques. homework. english class. that rhetoric is gonna be so common, and it’s gonna feel really confining. if my list of advice doesn’t work for you, that’s okay! this is just some of the stuff that kept me sane while i was in school, and obviously, you are not me. you might feel differently about some of this stuff. so branch out. there’s never just one way of doing things, and if you’re not content with the way your high school experience is going, keep changing stuff up till you find what works. high school is only four years of your life, even if it feels like it takes forever, and you’re gonna graduate and see that the world really is not at all what school makes it seem like.

the most important thing to learn, more than any academia, is how to be kind and find enjoyment in everyday moments.

[lvkswrites-blog]

Suckerpunch

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: language.

Summary: Reader becomes Steve Rogers mentee.

Foreword: The setting would be pre-CW and I think it fits the scene because this is the time Tony Stark and Peter would meet. Basically, I want to create a Steve Rogers who also have a mentee of sort.

P.S Let me know if you guys like this.

(x)

Third person point of view

The day Y/N found out that she does not want to live a life like everyone else is the day she punched a guy in the cafeteria. The guy looks pretty pissed while laying on the floor. Who wouldn't right? He didn't thought that a girl, a lower year even, could send him to total humiliation. Kids of different years cheered on, hoisting emotions from the two hot heads. Y/N, was about to jump towards the guy and give him another strong punch but her jab was caught by the gym instructor.

"Detention, Y/F/N!"

Every kids who encircled them cram and push one another back to their lunch table. A furious Y/N stood still infront of the instructor and the kid. Deep inside she was muttering things she could've done to the guy, who apparently thought making fun of her friend was nice, if only she was fast enough.

She explained everything to the principal and it made her feel hopeless. The guy would still be abstained, he looked like the lesser evil in this one. Y/N had been to detention more than the kid so she knows that it'll be listed on her record.

A guy brought in a tv and she was again infront of a talking Captain America. That moment, in a detention chair, a not-very-brilliant-self-reflection dawned to her. She did not wasted any moment and grabbed her backpack. She swore that she'll never go back again in the "stupid hell of a place".

Y/N is a person of misfortunes. Her dad died in a mission in Benghazi and her mom died from drug overdose at a young age, taken in by a problematic foster parents, and has identity vs. role confusion. But she was certain that she have a feeling inside her that she can't ignore.

The bus ride is short but enough to drown her with thoughts. Y/N plugged in her headphones and hugged herself.

At an old and rusty steel door, She stood. Her hoodie covering her and her backpack hang off over one shoulder. She knocked and waited for reply, when no one answered. She tried to slide the steel door. It didn't budged. So she tried another way, she went to the alley and search for an entrance. She stopped at her tracks when she found it. Apparently, behind a stink garbage can. "Blehk, eew." With one push she successfully pushed it.

A pick lock is all it takes.

"Now that's more like it."

-----

Steve knows that the owner would be there at the gym he would always go to, but he did not know that there would be someone else aside from him.

Grunts after grunts. Breathy exhales. Beat of trainers hitting the floor. The room felt almost motivational to start his usual workout. He must be careful tho, he do not want attention.

"You are here early? How did you get in?", a voice startled Steve. Steve spun and saw the gym owner.

"I just got here and I- I thought you opened this?"

"I did not." The owner replied. They both shared a look and found a girl in a corner lost in trance while lifting.

Steve approached the girl in a manner that will not scare her. He was gentle even, slowly squeezing information out of the girl. However Y/N can really act well. She said that "I thought it's open, I mean, the lights are on and the door is open so." Steve bought that and talked again to the owner that if anything is missing it might be a break in, if it's not then he must not worry much. The owner trust Steve so he let it be.

A sly smile formed in Y/N lips.

Steve went on his usual routine and let the spirit and sweat fuel him. Like any other fitness junkie, once you start feeling your body fire up it's addicting. He did not realized that per punch he release to the bag, it gets harder. The bag broke from it's chain and it made a loud "thump" as it fell.

*clap clap*

"Captain America," Y/N said while stepping forward. "I thought I might see you here."

Is she a spy? She sound odd. Things came into Steve's head like a computer wiring data.

"You're like a kid on a math test when you think y'know."

"Well, who are you?"

"-I'm just a kid from Brooklyn," Y/N sticked her hand out for a handshake. Steve's eyes trailed the hand infront of him and she waited... She waited until Steve decided to shake her hand. "Steve."

That is when her life officially changed. Y/N and Steve would always meet in the gym and train. They both share this understanding, like telepathy, that shaping up does not just make you feel better but help your head think straight. Days after days of sharing details and small talks. Steve watched her in a distance. Steve learned that she had been struggling with parents, and she have a dream becoming a soldier, and she wants to push her limits.

Steve did not saw a girl trying to impress him. He saw fire in her eyes, powerful motivation, a desire to have a purpose. He saw himself in her. Suddenly, he was back again in 40's. Trying so hard, application after application. He remember... everything.

"Hey, kid. Place is about to close." Steve called, making her pause the treadmill. He gave her time to catch her breath before he dropped the question, "You don't mind chinese takeaways for dinner, don't you?".

Sharon Carter is an agent working for Nick Fury. Lately, she had been assigned to look over Steve Rogers. Steve know and met Sharon knowing she was a friendly neighbor.

Steve and Y/N passed by infront of Sharon's door just in time when she opened it from the inside. Steve acknowledged her with usual greeting. Y/N hung her head as low as possible. Sharon's gaze turned from Steve to Y/N.

Steve racked his brain for an excuse and the best lie he come up with was, "She's my dishwasher." Both Sharon and Y/N's expression is an evident i-knew-it face. They both know Steve is bad at lying. To keep Sharon's act viable, Sharon agreed and excused herself to do the laundry.

Sharon head to the stairs and the two head towards Steve's flat. "You are such a dick, Rogers." Sharon heard. "-language!" Steve warned.

Nick Fury was at his office that time when he received a call from agent Carter. "Agent Carter... What?... Did you manage to take a photo?... Okay I can work that out... Okay... She's a hostile, for now. I'll pay Steve a visit as soon as I can." Nick Fury ended the call with an odd feeling. He tried not to think much about it and truth to be told, he felt that Steve was just trying to catch up in times. After all chivalry is dead, Fury thought.

Nick did paid a visit to Steve's place. He made it really a not-so sneaky one. He was welcomed by a supersoldier pinning him up against the brick wall. "What are you doing here?" Steve whisper-yelled. Nick did not answered and directed his eyes towards the sleeping body in a matress.

Steve released him and said, "Let's not talk here."

"Really? Here?" Fury said in dismay. Steve shrugged. "I ran out of eggs." Fury stopped him by the arms and said, "I told you I'll keep an eye on you."

"-I noticed." Steve retorted and pulled his arm.

"For fuck's sake. If you want a dog, I'll get you one." Fury said and he's furrious. "Rogers. That's a fucking 16 year old, a girl even, and you think- You think you can have someone following you around and listening to your orders-"

"-You don't understand." Steve growled.

"Then make me. Explain it to me..."

"Okay fine. If she fail, she leave. If she pass, she'll stay."

Y/N woke up that day with the sound of clammoring plates amd smell of cooking. She felt a bit concious.

"You don't have to make me breakfast, old man." Steve chuckled at her remark. "Goodmorning, to you too." Both fell silent after that. Both are not used to sharing meals with a person in an intimate space. Y/N chuckled and ate her food in silence.

Steve then explained everything. About fury. About the test. Y/N was not shocked but Steve is. Y/N grabbed her backpack and pulled out her dad's dog tag. Apparently, the dog tag has a shield logo in it. It glistened as the sun light beemed on it.

"I've been low-key researching about S.H.I.E.L.D, I- kinda expected this to happen."

Time skip and a series of extreme running and combat training with Steve. Y/N is ready to face Nick Fury for a test. Although it did not started in a controlled environment, it happened in a laundromat.

Y/N and Sharon are both waiting for their laundry to finish. Y/N started small talks like how's life, what she do, where she came from. "So, you said you're a nurse?"

"Yes," Sharon replied with a smile. That day, Sharon is really in need of laundry service. She have to wash her uniform.

"Do you work during the days?" It's starting to bother Sharon. Personally, she likes her job but when interrogations happen it annoys her.

"Mostly. Life as a nurse is unpredictable, it can change any moment.", Y/N seemed pleased with her response.

Y/N laundry stopped and she started fixing it like any people would. She tried to supress the adrenaline. She breathed in and out in a disciplined manner. She knows that S.H.I.E.L.D trained its agents well that even breathing pattern could be a sign of distress.

She then headed for the door with her laundry, instead of stepping out. She flipped the 'open' sign and slowly locked the door.

"Y/N," Sharon called. "You dropped these." Sharon did not expected the attack. While she was distracted, Y/N grabbed the opportunity to lock Sharon between her arms. Sharon pushed their weights and Y/N hit her back on the laundry machine.

The two started making a mess machine after machine and no one is near from surrendering.

"Why. are you spying on. Steve." Y/N said between attacks. Sharon kept on dodging. She was told that Y/N is a hostile and no harm. Sharon was just dodging every attack Y/N did.

Sharon is lost in her own thoughts while dodging a furious Y/N. Sharon did not expected that Y/N could have much precision and powerful punches. Sharon did not fully understood Y/N mentioned something about Rogers and protection.

Steve and Sharon only shared glances and small talks in the duration of her mission. However, long before she met him she already heard stories from Peggy about a man he worked with. Needless to say, Sharon grew feelings for Steve. Something about Y/N overprotevtiveness aura made her snap. "It's my job, not yours." Sharon thought to her self repeatedly but she kept silent. She then became as assertive as Y/N.

The change of Sharon's body language made Y/N know it's beyond what she wanted to know. Her lunges and attacks felt personal.

"Finally," Y/N announced. They both stared at each others eyes before they started going for one another.

Y/N showed and applied what he learned from Steve, but Sharon showed that she is knowledgeable of MMA moves and aside from personal affairs it became a show-me-what-you-can-do.

Sharon is experienced in combats and her expertise in this really showed. Y/N's arm was about to be locked behind her arm but Y/N grew up catfighting in alleys and she is a nasty and outlaw contender.

Just in time before both girls kill each other, Nick Fury arrived.

-----

Steve and Y/N sat infront of each other silently. No one is trying to make a conversation. Both are tensed to what Fury will say.

From Y/N vision she could see a red haired woman walking towards them. Y/N's excitement tingled as she realized it's Natasha Romanoff. Media created an image that Natasha is a hot and skilled spy who once been in numerous deadly mission. She's Y/N idol. Now she sit there with a freshly bruised face with a stern don't-touch-me Steve Rogers.

Natasha introduced herself and she announced her presence was by Fury's order. Natasha casually joked about bruising Agent Carter's face for her.

Steve looked at Natasha and then at Y/N. He knew that moment that he made a right choice to take her in.

-----

Natasha stirred her coffee as Y/N teared her pack of coffee. "How'd you know that Agent Carter is spying on you?" Natasha asked.

"She keeps on glancing on Steve?" It sounded like a question.

"That's assumption."

"Actually, for a nurse, she looks pretty. I mean if she's being an undercover nurse she should-"

"Are you saying that nurses are ugly?" Natasha wheezed.

"No!" Y/N defended. "I mean, okay, whenever I saw her wearing scrubs I try to smell her. She doesn't smell like antiseptic or hospital scent that usually haunted me. I did not said it at first because you might think I'm a creep."

"Creep." Natasha joked.

[nellie-studyblr]

How to Get Straight A’s

Yes, even in honors classes! My grades are below, so you know I’m not pulling your tail.

First, let’s get it straight--perfection is not possible. There are advantages that Honors students have that basic and proficient students do not. In my school, Honors students get three points tacked onto their grade just for the difficulty of the class. AP students get five! So the 94 I got in semester 1 of geometry? I really earned a 91, which is a B.

DO:

+ Make good use of your time. Don’t waste free time in class by going on your phone or socializing; you can do this at home. Do your homework while you’re in school and in a learning environment. This yields the most accuracy in your work, and you can relax when you get home instead of worrying about homework.

+ Turn your homework in on time. There is no limit to the amount of times I can stress this point. HOMEWORK GRADES ARE IMPORTANT GRADES. Yes, homework grades are mainly filler grades, but guess what? Ten homework grades that are ten points each equal one 100 point test grade. Do I need to say it louder for the people in the back? If you get an 8/10 for ten late homework assignments, you are essentially getting an 80/100, which is a C, on a test. So for the love of your GPA, please turn in your homework.

+ Go to tutoring, if possible and necessary. No one will make fun of you. My geometry teacher had class tutoring sessions every morning where she helped students with questions. In the first semester, I never went, but I did in the second semester. I went before any quiz or test that I wasn’t really confident in. My grade raised 4 points in the second semester. There’s no harm in accepting help.

+ Study reasonably. There’s no point in studying for hours. When studying, find out the content you need to know. Briefly go over it all, then focus on what you don’t know. Don’t study information you already know well, it takes time away from topics that you need to familiarize yourself with. Let me know if you want a post on how I study for quizzes, tests, and final exams.

+ Take care of yourself mentally. If you need to miss a day of school to play catch up with an assignment or to relax and not feel any pressure, do it. I missed four days of school each semester, 8 in the entire school year. Every one of these days I dedicated to de-stressing and treating myself to make sure my mental health was where it needed to be. That being said, make sure you are wise when you miss school. Before I missed school, I would map out the entire day and make sure I wasn’t missing tests or important notes. Then I asked my friends to send me notes or assignments that I missed so that I would not be behind.

DON’T:

+ Do your homework the day it’s due. I watched my friends at breakfast and lunch rushing to finish or copy their homework everyday then listened to them rant about how stressed they were. Cramming work in isn’t productive at all. You don’t learn anything from copying or rushing. Homework is practice for the test. If you can’t do the content, you fail the test. It’s that simple. Take the time out of the day before your assignment is due and complete your work, whether at home or at school. Don’t cause yourself stress and lower grades just because you didn’t want to do your homework when you should have.

+ Believe that grades define you. You do not have to have straight A’s to be successful in life. Your talents may be far beyond the scope of English, Math, Social Studies, or Science. Find what you’re good at, and act on it.

+ Take classes that are too hard for you. Yes, the three/five points for Honors/AP classes are appealing, but they’re not going to help you if you have a 67 in the class. I have seen one student receive a 45 on an AP Psychology test while another scored a 98. I take Honors and AP courses because I have the mental capacity, and I enjoy an academic challenge. Not everyone is cut out for this sort of academic rigor, and that is perfectly fine. Don’t join classes for points or because they make you seem smarter; it’ll only hurt you in the end.

TIPS:

+ If you have questions on an assignment, text a friend or email a teacher

+ Never turn down extra credit opportunities, especially if they’re easy!

+ If an assignment is too much for you to bear (ex. 45 vocabulary words and 22 short answers due in 24 hours), split up the work with a friend or two. Don’t do this often! At most, do it once or twice a year.

I really hope you like this and strive to get the best grades you can this year and years to come!

[ao-anonymousobsesser]

So I'm writing a VLD fic

@comfortably-chaotic-mind I'm tagging you bc you know this fic and I'm sure you'll want to hear this lol plus this is kind of a funny story...sorry for the long post though

Everybody else, I'm very very very sorry you have to put up with this but I'm really upset about this right now so I gotta get this out

Basically, Keith's dad was super close with the latest Admiral of the Galaxy Garrison. Like I'm not sure what happened with them (maybe graduated together?? or the admiral taught him some life lesson??? idk) but Kogane trusts Dos Santos with his LIFE okay

And he basically says that Dos Santos is Keith's godfather in his will

So when Kogane dies...Dos Santos shows up and is like bitch u ain't takin this boi to the home

So Keith becomes like the housecat-ghostboy-orphan of the Galaxy Garrison. He likes sitting with the old people, climbing in the rafters, and sneaking around to scare the shot out of the cadets.

He's also an avid reader. (A personal headcanon of mine but blown up to a massive proportion.)

Like I mean this boy eats books for breakfast lunch and dinner. If he's awake, he's reading. He listens to audio books to fall asleep half the time (the other half of the time he's blasting Disturbed or FOB or something edgy like that).

This boy has read every book that could even VAGUELY be considered interesting.

Okay, let me just tell you:

The average school library has a ratio of between 10 and 20 books per student.

Let's say the Garrison has 5000 students (just larger than West Points cadet count) and their ratio is small at 10. That's 50000 books in the library.

Probably 10000 are extra copies or second/third/twelfth editions of the same books (going by the ratio of 1/5 that my school had). That's still 40000.

I'm gonna be nice and say that 500 are reference books, another 500 are random (small, informational or entertaining, don't fit a special category), 25000 are nonfiction, and 14000 are nonfiction.

Keith is almost 13 at this point in the story.

As an avid reader myself, I started reading at four. Keith started at five in the story.

I was six when I read my first 200pager. So was Keith.

So let's say he started on the smallest books in the Garrison at age 5. That's 500 in a year. About a book and a half a day.

Boom. Down to 35500 books in the library.

(As we all know, I hope, the library will rotate books, causing the number to fluctuate a bit. But let's say for the sake of math that it stays this way)

His dad already gets supplies from the Garrison (because he lives on Garrison property shhh it makes sense) so he starts asking for more books because Keith is just eating them up.

So the countdown to 15000 starts.

This is where I should explain that I literally lived down the road from a small town library until I was ten years old. I know what it's like to have access to books. I went to the library with my uncle every saturday afternoon. The librarian knew my name and used to come to my soccer games when he could. He was my best friend.

I remember when I was about seven I started getting frustrated because I would go through all my books in the first few days of the week and then be out until Saturday. I started taking my bookbag with me. I made my uncle (in his teens) take one, too. We crammed anywhere from thirty to sixty books into those bags and carried more with us.

The only reason we got away with it (because there was a 20 book limit) was because we had six library cards between the three of us--i had mine and my mom's, my uncle had his, his best friends, and my grandma's, and the library dude was nice enough to lend us his if we needed it.

So yeah. On a good week, I got about seventy books. That's ten books a day.

(I should explain that I still went to school. I went to public school with plenty of kids who hated reading enough for all of us. I had teachers who either insisted I was some kind of genius--i wasnt--or banished me to the hallway for reading Jane Austen during reading time when they specifically said to pick something at the class reading level. I know this life. It's kinda sucky.)

So yeah. Ten books a day, seven days a week, for fifty-two weeks. I got through the entire small-town library (4000 books) in just over a year.

Yes, I even read the reference books. Yes, I had to ask for help with some of the more sophisticated books in the library. (Yes, I skipped a few of the research books. I was eight. Sue me.)

What I'm saying is that it is realistic for me to have Keith reading 5 or 6 thousand books a year for eight years, because in this story he has LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE TO DO.

His dad homeschools him without schooling him at all (unschooling, look it up on wikipedia--yes I know it probably doesn't work like that, but it's my AU and I do what I want). Then his dad dies when he's just over eight and he's alone in the house for a year. Just books to keep him company.

Then (after meeting Sam Holt) he starts trekking out to the Garrison, creeping around the halls and camping out in the library when he feels like it.

He makes friends with the campus librarian. Professors give him books for his birthday. At twelve, he got Sam and Dos Santos to help him build a room onto the old shack so his books weren't just lying wherever in the house. The room has twelve bookcases (three on each wall) each with five shelves (60 shelves total) and full of books (about 2000 books total, give or take).

He doesn't socialize a lot (he's still Keith) but it's not that he doesn't want to. It's just that he's awkward (he's still KEITH). If people would stick around for a while (more than ten minutes), he's actually really cool and funny, even if he's a little defensive/shorttempered/oblivious/clueless.

(Just because you're smart and read a lot doesn't mean you understand everything. Just because you know how to make jokes doesn't mean you always catch them or that you understand idioms or innuendos or anything that isn't straight talk.)

His jokes are literature based. He uses sarcasm a lot even though half the time it comes out wrong. He identifies with both Darcy and Elizabeth on a spiritual level.

He has a room at Dos Santos' that has a bookcase full of composition notebooks, themselves full of notes on all the books he's read, little doodles of scenes he really likes, and jokey little summaries of long reference passages.

He's a nerd who never had to learn how to socialize with real people. He LIKES people. He's not a robot, and he doesn't automatically hate you on sight.

He's just been through a lot in his life, and he's still just a lonely little kid.

Anyway. Keith reads about twenty fiction/short books some days, four longer reference/textbook books other days. It varies. It took him six hours to get through Under the Dome, and there was one time he read eleven aeronautics manuals in eight hours and then passed out for fourteen, but mostly he takes longer for reference books/textbooks than fiction books/memoirs.

Also he's read the dictionary/thesaurus like forty times by the time he's thirteen and he shows ZERO sign of stopping. It's basically a religion at this point.

So let me break this down again:

Garrison library has 50,000 books. Minus 10,000 because they're copies/lame editions. That's 40,000 books.

1000 are reference books or random (small, informational or entertaining, don't fit a special category) books, 25000 are nonfiction/memoir/diagram based/school or lesson based, and 14000 are nonfiction.

Keith starts reading at five. His first five hundred are done when he's six--he starts on the next five hundred and finishes within months. His dad starts asking for larger shipments.

By the time Keith is seven, he's read 2000 books.

We're down to 38,000 books in the Garrison library.

Between seven and eight, he reads another 3000. Down to 35,000 books in the Garrison library.

A couple months later (500 books down, 34,500 to go) his dad dies. He's alone in the house for 10 months, only books to keep him company.

He reads another 4,000 books in this time. By the time he turns nine, he's reading at a high school level. 30,500 to go.

Sam visit on his ninth birthday. He brings more books, invites him to visit the Garrison sometime. The librarian could use some company.

Keith does.

By the time he's ten, he's read another 6,500 books. It's a really good year. 24,000 to go.

Age 10-11: 6,000 books. 18,000 to go.

Age 11-12: 5,750 books.12,250 to go

He's turning 13 in a few weeks. This year he has so far read 5,375 books. He wants to hit 5500 again. For the five year anniversary.

It's not a good year. He's not feeling great. He starts talking to Matt more than he used to. Matt pushes him a little. He says he can do it. Keith believes him. He's never lied to him before.

(That Keith knows of. What goes to his benefit is unnecessary knowledge for him.)

He hits 5,500. 6,750 to go.

This is where I am now.

Now by all accounts, there are a few notes I should make.

There is a portion of books at Keith's home that he has not read. They are books the librarian gave him because she knew he hadn't read them before they were getting rotated out for a new shipment. This is probably 500 books.

That makes the total 7,250.

Less than ten thousand.

He has read 33,250 books in eight years (ages 5 to 13). Average: 4156.25 books per year, 11.3 books per day.

I'm almost twenty and I read 55,383 books between the ages of 4 and 18 (between the first book I read at home and the last book I read before my graduation ceremony). Average: 3955.93~ books per year, 10.8 books per day.

I didn't have a lot of friends. I was bffs with every librarian I met/had. In 10th grade world history we had to give one cool/weird fact in an introductory assignment and I told them I had read every book in the school library. No one believed me. I told them I could prove it. She said go ahead.

"I have read every book in the school library. The librarian can vouch for me. They have not rotated their books since I was in eighth grade. My grandmother works here, so I know. There are exactly 17,488 books in the library, not including extra copies or "editions" like all they did was change two sentences in the intro that's hardly new information. But whatever. I started reading that year. I made a list of every book i read that year. There were 3272. That's 14216 to go--all of which were in the fiction and nonfiction sections. My grandmother checked them out. If you go into her records from that year and take that list and add it to my list from last year in 9th grade, you'll see that I read every single book. I started with the reference section that year and then went to the manga, then the nonfiction, then the historical fiction, then the fantasy fiction. I had already read most of the books in the fiction section. 6,791 out of 7,918 to be exact. That's 7425 to go. I'd also read 3577 if the 6298 nonfiction books. That's 3848 to go. Over the course of the last school year, which lasted exactly 42 weeks, I checked out 30 books every Monday and 50 books every Thursday. That's eighty books every week. Times 42, that's 3360. 488 left. I hung out with my grandmother while she worked over the summer. I kept my reading up, only for the first half. By the end of July--the 29th--I had read the rest. That's nine books a day every day. Don't believe me? Ask the librarian."

So the teacher did.

She put the librarian on speakerphone.

The librarian went on a full ten minute rant about how ridiculously difficult it was checking out fifty books at a time.

My history teacher wouldn't come within 2ft of my desk until after holiday break, and she didn't go into the library at all that year.

Moral of the story: IT IS TOTALLY LOGICAL/ACCEPTABLE THAT I HAVE KEITH READING OVER 30,000 BOOKS IN EIGHT YEARS IN THIS FIC OKAY PLEASE DON'T COME AT ME OVER THIS

[btsfaris]

Heavy Heart

A/N: Hiii hellurrr im here with a new one-shot, idk if I want to make it a fic yet but for now it will be either a one part or two part one-shot unless you guys want more :))

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Words: 1.3k

-

You;

Oh, he’s so cute. So incredibly, dorkably, cute.

You gaze at the one and only Peter Parker, one of the smartest kids in the whole school. Filled with such knowledge and intelligence that made you aspire to be like him.

He was in your math class, always doing his work diligently and finishing before the rest of the class on the classwork and homework. Peter wasn’t just smart though, no, he was gorgeous as well.

From his chiseled jaw to his muscular body, anyone could see he was a good looking guy. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of brown that held a shine to them, that you had never seen before.

The sound of his laugh was music to your ears and it was always a delight to see his pearly white flash a smile. He usually sported casual wear, from hoodies to flannels, but always managed to look good.

He was truly a nice guy, always trying to help out others when in need. Like the other day, he helped out a freshman collect his papers that fell to the ground when they fell out of his crammed locker. It warmed your heart to see him do such a kind act, unlike other boys at the school that would simply have laughed at the poor kid.

Peter generally kept to himself though, only talking to minimal people. He wasn’t very social outside of his circle of friends. Mostly being Ned, or some of the other mathletes. That including, Liz Allan.

It was obvious that Peter had a crush on her, anyone could see by the way he stared at her. You knew that look, it was the same way you looked at him. Of course it hurt and broke your heart a little, but what could you do? You rarely talked to him and she was practically the it-girl of the school.

Sharing the same amount of knowledge as Peter, she was a perfect match for him. She was apart of the mathletes for crying out loud. Not to mention that she was extremely pretty, and popular. You kept a small ray of hope though, that maybe he only saw her as a friend and saw more in you.

Yeah like that’d ever happen, you snort to yourself.

You only spoke to Peter a couple times over the course of high school. Once in your biology class, because he needed a pencil and you stupidly gave him yours, which was your only one at the time. The other times were simple questions about homework assignments or an item of his accidentally dropped, and picked up by you.

The times you had though, you could’ve sworn there was something. Maybe it was the way he awkwardly smiled or how his eyes widened at your voice. You used to wonder if he perhaps shared a liking towards you as you did to him..

But you would always quickly shove and lock those thoughts away whenever they appeared. He was always shy to everyone, not just you, you reminded yourself every time. The last thing you needed was false hope, especially with someone like Peter Parker.

Checking the time, you see that there is a few more minutes left until the warning bell would ring, signaling that class would begin. You quickly switch your textbook with your binder, then glance at yourself in the mirror on your locker door. Your face wasn’t anything special, but the least you could do what look somewhat presentable as you would pass by his locker.

You always did this at this time just to be able to catch a glimpse of Peter, as his locker was coincidentally on the way to your next class. You guys didn’t have any classes together this year sadly, so it was really your only time to see him.

Shutting your locker closed, you walk down the hall now heading to his direction and that’s when you see him with his friend. Peter is laughing at something Ned said, his eyes crinkling and his mouth wide with a smile. It was truly a sight to see, all happy and bright. You wished that one day, you’d have the pleasure to make him laugh like that as well.

As you get near, you divert your gaze to the floor, holding your binder tight to your chest and walk past them. Your palms start to get sweaty and you heart races faster. You peek at Peter from the corner of your eye, practically swooning at the fair scent of his cologne that hits your senses.

But much to your dismay, he does nothing, doesn’t notice you as usual and you continue to walk to your class with a heavy heart.

Peter;

“Oh god, she’s coming! Ned, pretend we’re talking about something cool!” I exclaim nervously, trying to compose myself. I see her down the hall, her figure coming close.

“Like what Peter?” Ned raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know! Jeez- You really know how to be a good wingman!” I say sarcastically, flickering my eyes from him to her.

“I do?” Ned asks, causing me to sigh in frustration, as he is obviously not getting my tone.

She looked so beautiful today.

Not that she didn’t look beautiful before, because she always did, but somehow she manages to look even more breathtaking everyday. Her simple yet chic appearance made my eyes shoot hearts at her at every chance I got to sneak a glance at her.

Her hair carefully framing her face nicely, a few loose strands on one side while the other is neatly tucked behind her ear. Those e/c eyes peeking through her soft lashes, looking at the floor in front of her. I’d kill to have her look at me once, just once, with those pretty eyes.

“Dude, just as her out already Peter! She‘d so say yes!” Ned says, snapping me out of my hypnosis on her.

“Yeah, and I’m so going to get an A on my Spanish test!” I reply sarcastically, sneaking more glances at her. Her figure getting closer and closer, making my poor heart start to race faster as I see her beautiful face again.

“Well, like Cesar Chavez always said, ¡Si se pode!” Ned exclaims, accent extremely heavy, which manages to make me laugh.

“It’s ‘puede’ you doof,” I chuckle, shoving his shoulder slightly.

She walks past us, her hair swaying softly behind her and making me swoon at every step she takes. I wish I could make her mine, I think to myself. Y/N’s retreating figure goes further down the hall before turning right and is gone.

“Just do it already man!” Ned whispers harshly.

“Well I can’t exactly just confess to her- I barely even talk to her, I’d totally freak her out!” I groan, placing my forehead on my locker in shame. Another day of just looking at her like a creep and no progress whatsoever. How great.

“Then get to know her! Talk to her at lunch, you know she hangs out in the back alone. I bet she totally needs the company!” Ned wiggles his eyebrows and I smack his arm slightly.

“I don’t know.. What if she doesn’t want to talk to me? I mean, look at her..” I mumble, mentally cursing at myself for being such a wimp.

“Peter-“ Ned begins but the bell suddenly rings, making me sigh as it indicates brunch is over and I now have to face a bigger problem, my Spanish exam. Saved by the bell? I think not.

I say goodbye to Ned before he can retaliate further. As I’m walking to my Spanish class, I look over my shoulder, seeing nothing but an empty hallway where the mesmerizing angel once walked.. along with my heart in her hands.

-

a/n: if you would like me to make a part two please let me know! :))

[all-about-wannaone]

3/100 Ways To Say I Love You

Pairing: Ong Seongwoo x Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Prompt: “No, no, it’s my treat.” 

Words: 3587

A/N: Hello readers! I know that I have been pretty inactive in the past week and that is because I was in Japan and did not take my laptop with me for the week’s getaway. :( For those who are still waiting for your ships and requests, I have started working on them and will post them soon so this Ong Seongwoo scenario would serve as the easing into the motion as I get back to my usual activity. :) Thank you all for being so patient and supportive with me and I hope that this does not disappoint. :) Thank you for reading and stay tuned for more of this series coming up soon! 

“I hope the study session was productive today. I know it’s a little heavy on the content, but I bet you could at least remember one concept… right?” Seongwoo asked, sounding slightly concerned.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered, taking a while to comprehend what he was saying. You see, Seongwoo and I had just spent 5 solid hours in the school’s library, focusing solely on the many concepts of Chemistry (whose names I could never remember) and Advanced Mathematics. And these were the two brain draining subjects that I neither loved or hated, but what I did know was that these were my worst subjects in the recent examination. In fact, I was far from the passing mark and it was as if my entire world had come crashing down on me when I received my results.

My parents went ballistic at my grades, breathing down my neck and telling me the importance of doing well in my studies, just so that I could aim for the top 3 universities once I graduated. They had begun to research on well-known cram schools and tutors, who charged an arm and a leg, but they were willing to do anything at this point to make sure that I pulled up my socks and score the grades that they wanted.

Unfortunately, cram schools had only given me even more pressure, especially when I was surrounded by students from the elite high schools such as Daewon Foreign Languages High School; they could conquer the entire Ivy League if they wanted to; or Anyang High School; they could get into the local universities easy, just with their grades alone. Hence, perhaps this was the reason why my grades fell even more, just due to the immense pressure alone.

“Hmm,” Ms Jung, my homeroom teacher, pondered during a short check-in session, as she looked at the possible options I had to improve and look ahead, “If cram schools do not seem to be aiding you in your learning, how about asking one of your classmates for help? Considering that all of you are students, and what more in the same class, perhaps the both of you could empathise and understand each other better.”

“B-but I don’t really talk to the class very much though…?”

“I know you’re soft spoken, I really do,” Ms Jung replied in an empathetic manner, “but this is the best way, in my opinion, for you to get a grasp of your learning gaps before moving onto the second year.”

I sighed at the thought, and even though I hated to admit it, I had to agree. It was probably the most effective way, especially when I had gone through too many experiences with teachers who gave no two hoots towards those lagging behind.

“Okay, the most I could do for you is to consult a student from the class. I’m pretty sure they’ll be more than willing to help you.” She said in an assuring manner, patting me on the back with a warm smile.

And so she did, and I had to admit that she was probably the most efficient teacher that I had ever met, because it only took me 4 days to receive a message from an unknown number.

“Hey. This is Y/N right? Ms Jung just consulted me this morning about advanced math and chemistry, asking me whether I was more than willing to tutor you. When do you want to start?”

I was beyond confused when I saw the message, so I replied, meaning no harmful intent, “Uh… yes this is Y/N, but who is this?”

“Wow, do you not save your classmate’s numbers? I’m offended.” The reply came in a flash, followed by another message, “Anyway, this is Ong Seongwoo.”

Ah… Ong Seongwoo.

Truth be told, he was indeed the epitome of a true surprise and the reason why one should not judge a book by its cover.

He was popular with the ladies (shouldn’t it be extremely popular), the volleyball team’s ace libero and could easily charm his way through a woman’s heart. It was a given that the students would oggle over him; the ideal man for the girls and an object of envy for the other boys. Sometimes, it was often rumoured that even the teachers loved him, especially when he was truly “drop dead gorgeous”.

Hence, to most, he appeared as the resident’s “fuckboy”, perceived to lead wild lifestyles, have an affluent background and probably flunked every single class in the process. However, Seongwoo was pretty much the opposite. He was, what we called, a closet mugger, and he studied hard and well. In fact, he was probably born brilliant since he could understand concepts effortlessly, and could probably score stellar grades despite having no sleepless nights or experiences of burning the midnight oil; which was a norm amongst high school students.

I suppose that was the reason why Ms Jung had assigned me to Seongwoo. He was the top student of the class in terms of his overall grades, second in the cohort and the A-star student in both Chemistry and Advanced Math. There was no other way around it, and besides, even though I had not spoken a single word ever in the year, he was still nice enough to offer his help anyway.

Therefore, we scheduled a time, making an appointment on a Wednesday at 3pm, and I had to say that the first meeting was extremely awkward. I knew he was good looking, but seeing his sharp features up close would make anyone turn into a blushing mess. However, the vibe that he gave was one filled with seriousness and it was intense, but he had every right to, especially when he was going to teach a student who was “significantly weaker” than him.

Indeed, he was baffled with what I did not know, asking me what I did not know from the syllabus first. In retrospect, I was probably confident in 10% of the entire syllabus and the rest passed by like a blur to me throughout the year. Like I said before, there were many teachers that I met who cared nothing for the weaker students, accounting for the state that I was currently in.

Nevertheless, he kept his cool (surprisingly) and sighed, before saying in a slightly dejected, but determined tone, “So… I guess we’ll just refresh your memory on the basics for today. Your foundation, as of now, is nowhere near stable, so before we can advance any further, these are all the things that you would need to know.”

Wow. Harsh.

As time went by, we started to meet more and more often, especially with me having to sit for a foundation test to see if I needed to change classes or not. Hence, for some strange reason, he was all the more determined to teach me, making sure that I knew everything to the point that I could spill all the information in the textbook, word for word.

Thankfully, in that span of time, I had also gotten to know Seongwoo a little better than what I had already known from all the gossips and rumours that were often present in the corridors. When he was not burying his head in the books, he loved to joke around with his friends, showing me videos of all the pranks that he had elaborately planned out, just to capture all of their reactions. God knows what ran through his mind at times, but he would show all these videos to me in the quiet library and it took me all not to laugh out loud at all of them.

There were days when we had forgotten where we were, only to realise the librarian staring daggers into our souls, but all Seongwoo had to do was to reciprocate with a small polite smile, which had also caused her to get a little flustered.

Indeed, behind that suave exterior, Seongwoo was just like any other teenage boy; playful, fun-loving, spontaneous and it was indeed a mystery to how he could excel in school without even trying.

At the end of the day, we ended up becoming pretty close friends and study sessions soon escalated to spending time with each other during lunch, sharing little snippets of our lives and laughing at all the embarrassing and hilarious moments that we captured. Sometimes, it went beyond the superficial and he was there throughout the triumphs and tribulations.

When I was sick, he came over with warm chicken soup in a thermal container. When I was sad, he was a shoulder to cry on, and all he had to do was to provide a comforting arm placed around my shoulder, assuring me that things will get better. When it was my time of the month, he knew exactly what cheered me up; dark chocolate (lots of it), caramel ice cream bars and instant noodles. Eventually, my mother had begun to approve of him, and it was clear that he too clicked with my mother.

“He’s such a nice boy, Y/N. Is he your boyfriend?”

Yep, she was that straightforward.

“Eomma, of course not,” I would laugh awkwardly after that, and she would only squint her eyes at me saying that there was no way she was going to believe it, “He’s… a little too out of my league and besides, isn’t grades more important now?”

She nodded in approval, but that was after she had given me a hint of what she had hoped for, “I understand how you must be feeling, but then again, I can’t stop your heart right?”

Feelings aside, after months of hard work and progress monitoring from the sharp eye of Seongwoo, I had taken my foundation tests quite smoothly and it was finally the day when I would find out whether I needed to be transferred to another class. As Ms Jung read out the names of the students who had taken the tests, Seongwoo closed his eyes and kept his hands together, possibly praying to all the Gods out there that I would pass it. I chuckled at the sight, but kept it together when Ms Jung called my name.

“And finally, Y/N…” I was still standing at this point, anxious to find out how I had performed. My palms were clammy and I swore I could have broken out in cold sweat at the anticipation. Ms Jung sighd at first, and it was as if all hope was lost, but her lips began to curve upwards and she said in a calm, yet proud, manner, “Good job Y/N. You scored the highest in the class for Advanced Math and second in Chemistry. Congratulations.”

That was when I heard loud cheering and a resounding applause from Seongwoo. Despite the fact that he was now faced with judgemental and surprised gazes from my classmates, he paid no attention, shooting me a thumbs up and a proud expression for my performance.

I mouthed a “thank you” to him and smiled at the rest of my class, bowing here and there to all who had congratulated me. Sitting down, I whipped out my phone immediately as I felt a vibration from my pocket.

“Good job Y/N. I’m so proud of you. Keep aiming high and just know that I’ll always be here for you when you need me. Let’s go out for dinner soon as a celebration okay? Indeed, never underestimate Mr Ong’s intelligence.”

I scoffed and shook my head, shooting him a glance and there he was, still with a cocky grin plastered on his face. On the contrary, I could still tell that he was proud of my achievements, and the same went for his own milestones, considering that he had mentioned to me that he was a terrible teacher. Hence, I was beyond grateful that the fruits of the labour was worth it after all, and it was mutual too.

Sadly, we started to lose touch eventually, especially when we were out of class. Sure, we still met up to study and acknowledged each other with an energetic wave in class, but that was about it for the initial start of the second year. We never really shared a common lunch break anymore, especially when our teachers started to band us according to our grades. When he left the class, he would shoot me a sad smile, and I’d just reciprocate the gesture, but wished him all the best through text anyway. Furthermore, he had started to prepare for his the upcoming volleyball tournaments anyway and they trainee for 6 days a week, juggling both their academics and ready for the big games ahead. He preferred to catch some shut eye, and in all honesty, I could not blame him.

After what seemed like an eternity, I had finally received a text from him, asking if I wanted to study with him and without hesitation, I replied with a “Yes!” and I felt my spirit brighten at the thought. Indeed, when one had a friend who brought a drop of happiness to one’s life all the time, it was a little difficult when they were not around anymore, even if it was just temporary.

So here we were, seeking refuge in a traditional korean fast food restaurant, flipping through the brightly coloured menu to see what they offered. I looked up, and noticed that Seongwoo was clearly ogling at all the pictures that the owners had so strategically placed. It made one’s mouth water with the sight of tangsooyook, wholesome doshiraks and golden chicken tenders, and it was clear to see why this was a popular food chain amongst all the high school students of Seoul.

“Good evening sir and welcome to our restaurant! Could I start you off with anything?” A chirpy waitress with the brightest smile greeted.

“Actually… We are ready to order.”

“Oh, of course, what would you like to have then? I can assure you that we only serve top-quality products and if you would like some recommendations, I would not mind to give the both of you some suggestions as well.”

Hearing that, he rattled on his order and I was a little surprised to hear how much he could eat, and most importantly, the price of the items he had ordered. They were not expensive individually, no, but with the seemingly endless list, it was hard to tell how much it would cost in total.

“So that will be 1 serving of tangsooyook, 2 servings of premium doshiraks, 1 serving of mixed mandoo, 1 serving of kimchi jjigae, 2 bottles of Chinsung Cider and finally, to end it all off, an Oreo bingsoo with chocolate and vanilla ice cream?”

He nodded and I was already fumbling for my wallet in my bag, but I was way too slow to possibly go dutch, especially when he had already handed in his debit card before she could even tell us what the price was. He smiled at me when he did so, eyes turning into two crescent moons and whipped out his phone to scroll through his Instagram and Twitter feed.

“Hey… Uh.. How much is it? It’s only right if I pay you back —“

“No, no. It’s my treat. Don’t worry about it. You deserve it, especially after working so hard for those stellar results.”

“T-thanks Ong but it was all thanks to you really. Without you, who knows where I would have been at this point?”

“Sure, I would like to take some credit for your great success,” he said proudly, but reverted back to his soft and gentle tone, “but at the end of the day, you were the one sitting for the papers anyway. Until now, I’m still proud of you and it’s good to know that you’re doing well now.”

And that was when I looked to see a beautiful smile that just made him even more handsome than he already was. Despite knowing him for so long, I still felt a familiar warmth spreading through my cheeks and ears and I cleared my throat awkwardly. My heart started to palpitate against my chest and I leaned back against the booth, attempting to calm myself down.

“Hi! Here’s your food and enjoy your meal!” The waitress was back again, holding onto a huge circular tray of food probably fit for a king. She arranged the food gently and nicely, but she was quick and said before running back to her station, “Here you go, picture worthy, don’t you think? Anyway, have a great night and if you need anything, just give me a call!”

It was amazing how she was still so enthusiastic, even if she was just simply serving customers and taking down their orders, without even stopping to rest for a bit and catch a breather. How I wish I was like that when I attended school too.

“Here, eat up.” Seongwoo said, proceeding to stack my side plate with two serving spoons full of tangsooyook and I thanked him for his kind gesture, “Like I said, you deserve it anyway.”

And that was how our sumptuous meal had gone as we spent time relishing in the taste of the food and caught up with each other at the same time. I knew of the fact that his team had attained a gold medal at the recent interschool games, but it was a whole different story hearing it from the player itself. He opened up about his highest moments, as well as his lowest, and told me hilarious anecdotes throughout the course of the dinner.

As for me, there was nothing much to say, especially when I was only a member of the school’s editorial club, publishing magazines containing updates of the school as well as taking photographs for the magazine itself. Hence, I resorted to spending most of my time actively listening to Seongwoo’s stories initially, before opening up about my recent experiences in the editorial team. In fact, I had also mentioned that the copies were well on its way, showing him a picture that a friend of mine had managed to catch from his volleyball finals.

“Oh wow, could you take pictures like that too?” He asked, after the photograph had piqued his interest, with a curious tone.

“I… can try, I guess? I’m still new to the whole photography notion, but I suppose I could try it sometime.”

“Could I be your model then?”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, nodding, and once again, he exuded the vibes of a boy who had just gotten his very first christmas present. It was clear he was excited, chewing on his food happily with a wide smile on his face.

In the end, we ended up spending more time in the restaurant than we should have, surprised to find out that they were about to close for the night, as well as the fact that we had sat in the restaurant for quite a long while too. After an enthusiastic goodbye from the waitresses, we took our leave and made our way to the train station to get home.

We were in a state of comfortable silence as we walked, taking in deep breaths of the cool spring air and feeling the gentle wind against our faces. The city lights had also attracted our attention, and hence, we spent a little bit of time admiring the sights around us in silent awe. Furthermore, I had never been to this area of Seoul, hence all these sights seemed to give a different vibe, even if they could be selling the same things at the end of the day.

Now, it was the time to part ways, simply because we were going in two directions now. I was heading towards Myeongdong and beyond, while he was heading off to Apgujeong. Thankfully, our trains were not arriving so soon, and we took a seat right in the middle of the vast and relatively empty train station.

“Thanks for the dinner today.” I said, breaking the silence, and he smiled in response, “I’m glad you enjoyed it Y/N. Let’s… come back again, shall we?”

And I nodded, before hearing the sudden familiar whirring of the train tracks, signalling that my train was going to come any minute now. I stood up, but I only felt a tug on my wrist and turned around, only to be faced with an endearing gaze from Seongwoo. Strangely, I could sense a tinge of shyness, which was unlikely from a boy that confident.

“B-before you go,” he stammered, “I j-just wanted to tell you to be safe, get home as quick as you can and… uhh… text me once you’re home. If anything happens, j-just g-give me a call.”

“Sure,” I replied, and started to move away as he loosened his grip, “Don’t worry Ong, I’ll be home before you know it and I’ll be sure to get home in one piece. Be safe on your way home too and I’ll… see you tomorrow?”

He nodded with a small smile, finally realising that he needed to let me go so that I could get onto the train. Nevertheless, I faced the station anyway and noticed that he had made a heart shape with his arms as the train took its leave. Hence, I reciprocated the gesture shyly and gave a final wave, before heading back home to retreat for the night.

[wannawrite]

Type Of Boyfriend: Yoo Seonho

who?: Cube Ent / Pd101S2’s Yoo Seonho genre: 🌸 type: bullet point blog navigator. • how Yoo Seonho would be your boyfriend • with added Christmas spirit ahhh thank you for requesting @isaluciavevo this, it’s so long overdue I’m sorry Seonho is so freaking cute my heart can’t take this - Admin L 

• hmm Yoo Seonho • 1/2 of my Cube chicks • y’all know this boy is wild • in the cutest way possible • Seonho goes to the same high school as you do, Cube International Academy • and he’s the vice-captain of the basketball team • captain - Lai Guanlin • Seonho is generally a bright and cheery person who doesn’t have trouble making friends • or keeping them • he practically knows the whole school • THAT Sophomore who is always hanging out with Seniors and Juniors • it’s also kind of pressing how a Sophomore is already the basketball captain • how shady • but that’s because Seonho enrolled into Cube because of his basketball skills • he was scouted when he was in middle school • and look where he is now • playing for one of the best high schools • talent • simply pure talent • can’t relate • but anyway • you’re new to Cube • you transferred over from C9 Academy • bye bye Jinyoung • and your transfer time was at a very odd time of the term • they decided to shove you in right when the last term started • which is around September and exams start in October • It isn’t the first time you’ve transferred schools but you didn’t exactly expect the principal to take ‘as soon as possible’ seriously • it was like they tossed you into the Lion’s Den with no prior warning • who gives prior warnings anyway.... • bad analogy but moving on • Cube is kind of intimidating no lie • there’s good looking and popular people everywhere • you feel out of place :( • luckily, Eunbin, the girl who is assigned to take care of you, is very sweet and introduces you to her friends too • even Wooseok, who sits next to her in class, welcomes you with open arms • you end up spending a lot of your first week with them • one day, you’re walking towards the cafeteria with Eunbin and Wooseok when a loud voice yells from behind • ‘HYUNG!’ ‘NOONA!’ • awkwardly, you stand to one side as a boy embraces his friends • it’s that weird thing when you’re with your friends • and they bump into their other clique • like • ‘uh hi idk if she’s been two-timing us’ • ‘who is the actual best friend.’ • ‘does she spend more time with me or you’ • except you can’t compare because you’ve only known people for two weeks • ahah • rip • take an L • sadly • ‘oh! Seonho, this is Y/N, they just transferred over from C9.’ Eunbin introduce, grinning from ear to ear • you smile shyly and wave • socialising 101 • Seonho brushes his fringe out of his eyes, beams brightly and waves back • HEART MELTED • his eyes just sparkle with happiness and they aren’t hidden by his huge spectacles • they’re too prominent • TOO BEAUTIFUL TO BE HIDDEN • ‘hey! Seonho, let’s go!’ A group of guys holding basketballs and dressed in their sports uniform shout • Seonho nods • ‘okay! I’ll see you around then guys. Welcome to Cube!’ • he skips away to join his friends • you’re left with your mind in a mess • honestly, he’s one of the cuter guys in your grade • actually, correction • the cutest guy you’ve ever seen • there’s no doubt about his physical handsomeness • not one • he’s good-looking, well-proportioned, has a sensible haircut • hair makes a HUGE difference • ‘oh!’ Eunbin clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. ‘you think he’s cute don’t you?’ • ‘n-no...’ • Wooseok ruffles your hair. ‘of course you do! you do! who can’t find him adorable?’ • ‘well, in THAT way but-‘ • ‘so you agree? you think he’s really cute?’ he teases more • You open and close your mouth several times, looking like a goldfish • ‘shut up.’ • Wooseok and Eunbin burst into laughter, playfully poking at you • you just wanted to eat lunch in peace, now look what happened :( • and they’re serving pizza today! • in the queue, Wooseok suddenly says, ‘how many times do you think Seonho or Guanlin queued up for pizza?’ • puzzled, you speak up. ‘aren’t we only entitled to one serving?’ • Wooseok just chuckles. ‘idk what goes on at C9 but this is Cube. no one will really pay attention if you take more than one plate, trust me, and I wouldn’t worry about Guan or Seonho, they’re pretty much Cube royalty’ • and that’s how you figured how popular and significant Seonho was • extremely • the next day, you found a sweet post-it stuck onto your locker • ‘y/n, hope you have a great day! talk to me if anything!’ • and there was also a bar of candy taped onto your door • your heart fluttered • madly, actually • you felt so special, like you owned the world • then, the boy next to you opened his locker and out came a similar looking note and a bar of chocolate • ‘awww! Seonho, he’s the sweetest.’ • o h • the boy collected his books and left with a bright smile on his face, ripping open the chocolate candy bar and tucking the post-it into his wallet • oh wow • your face flushed red and you crushed the post-it and shoved it to the very bottom of your backpack • you wish you could stuff your feelings back to wherever they came from • it was embarrassing to feel so special and close to someone you had barely made eye contact with • Seonho was just that guy who liked to present his friends with acts of his love and kindness • while he was incredibly popular, he was still humble and true to himself • cute • so so SO cute • NO SWEETIE YOU CAN’T FALL FOR HIM LIKE JUST THAT • N O • love at first sight :”) • you kind of dread today knowing that Seonho doesn’t share any classes with you   • sigh • in science, Wooseok suddenly turns to you and asks, ‘hey, do you mind helping me return some books to the school library today? I would but Mr Kim called me up for math remedial and then I have basketball practice right after...’ • being the nice and kind friend you are, you agree to help him • ‘ah shit,’ he curses, realising he left the books in his locker. ‘can...you drop by the gymnasium later, I’ll pass them to you.’ • shrugging, you reply, ‘yeah sure, I need to talk to some of my club seniors anyway,’ • ‘thanks! you’re the best!’ • you don’t think anything of it until lunch, after consulting your squad - who screams • ‘why?’ • ‘wOOsEOk asKED yOu tO waTCH hIS PRActIce!’ • ‘....no I’m just getting stuff from him aiya what the heck...’ • ‘no way, Wooseok isn’t like this. Did Eunbin not introduce Seonho to you yesterday?’ • ‘iT MUST BE SEONHO.’ • and that’s how everyone started shipping you two • pls be rational, logical friends • you realise slyWooseok isn’t one of those people when you arrive at the gym • and he dumps a whole pile of books in your arms • you know your arms are bound to break • and the library is on the 4th floor, not in the same block • ‘WOO-‘ • ‘THANK YOU’ he yells, running back to join his team • even though they’re getting a 10 minute break • sighing, you sluggishly stumble out of the gym • ‘here,’ • YOO SEONHO STRIKES • ‘let me help you.’ • AsDFGHJKL • he won’t take your refusals and talks to you along the way • in the end, he smiles at you before bidding you goodbye • AND A NEW CONTACT IN YOUR PHONE • that’s how it started • you found yourself texting Seonho a lot • like • a lot • he was super sweet person to talk to • and often used cute emojis to talk • then if he got mad about something, he would leave you on ‘read’ until 10 minutes later • I’m gonna try and do that ^ • it was such a casual thing when you guys started dating • literally • but your heart was pounding, even hours after he had asked you out • it was right after your final paper • btw, Seonho stayed and studied with you until the library closed when you were cramming • and he also helped you with notes and whatnot • Eunbin and Wooseok even made a bet to see how long it would take for you two to start dating • the cutest tbh • and once he asked you • you said • YES • and then you got to know a lot more people in your grade, older and younger students • how cool • Seonho always gave you his basketball team jacket to wear at games • he was so shy the first time he asked you • it was right after his practice and you were waiting for him near the school gate • he came out of the locker room, trembling hands holding onto his jacket • subtly • ‘h-hey b-babe,’ he stammers • listen • this boy RARELY stutters, he always can find a good excuse or make up something on the spot • you know he’s serious about something • ‘can...c-can you w-wear my jacket to my game this Saturday? if...i-if y-you’re planning to g-go of course!’ he adds quickly, while a blush fills his face • there was no way you were going to pass up the opportunity • and that’s when your relationship was announced to the general public • but who was shocked? • everyone saw it coming • you guys are too cute as a couple to go unnoticed • Seonho is a lowkey sucker for PDA • like the boy will make his relationship KNOWN • it’s the little things that matters • a small peck on the cheek • the way your hand fits in his • sometimes you really want to kiss his forehead but this boy is like a 6’0 giraffe and unless you’re at least 5’11.5 that’s a bit of a struggle • rip me I’m 5’4.5 • I think • he just giggles and bends down so you can kiss him comfortably • or you’re 6’5 and height has never really been a problem • oh, I envy • he will hug you out of nowhere • back hugs • side hugs • front hugs • hugs you and spins you around • collapses into your arms hugs • yes, expect clinginess and extensive skinship • but you love it • you guys don’t argue much unless it’s something roughly related to life or death • you can see the fury in Seonho’s eyes but he just locks himself in a room for a good hour to get the rationality back • maybe that’s the secrets to a good relationship • he doesn’t hold back on the ‘L word’ either • you first said it a good year into the relationship • he said it in a good month • it was the weekend right after his team won a major championship and you took him out for pizza • he said I love you after you promised to pay for the pizza he wanted • but he really means it • dates with him could be quite adventurous and spontaneous • ‘yo, let’s go on a date today.’ • ‘ok. just let me cancel this thing first.’ • it’s either you guys go to the amusement park the time it opens to nightfall • or you go there, take one ride and leave • Seonho could also be the guy who likes cafe dates • not cafe hopping but • you guys could pinpoint a particular place • go there for a couple of dates to try everything you like on the menu • before moving on to another place • on 1 December, Seonho burst into your house and woke you up by singing to Christmas carols • enthusiasts about the holiday • buys matching ugly Christmas sweaters • he tried to DIY ones with you but they weren’t the best • you wear them to sleep though, because don’t waste comfy sweaters • present wise, if you send him a list of things you want/need, he might get all of them just for you • compliments you all the time • but if that shirt is ugly, that shirt is ugly • Seonho tries to teach you how to play ‘Jingle Bells’ on the piano • it involved a lot more hand-holding than you thought • his passion for music is admirable • just watching him immerse himself in the piano can make anyone cry • and the fact that he wants to involve you in something he holds so close to his heart • C R Y ME A RIVER • when it snows, it’s either you two snuggle by the fireplace • or engage in a deathly snowball fight outside • Guanlin and Wooseok joined you guys once • Guanlin nearly had to go to the ER after • Seonho likes to build snowmen with you • only with you • even though it didn’t look like a picture perfect Olaf, he was so proud of it and took a dozen polaroids • all in all, Seonho is a super supportive boyfriend, loves skinship • he can get annoyingly clingy and sometimes sensitive • but you guys always work it out • because love is love • you learn more about Seonho everyday • he will warm up and open up to you, don’t worry • you love him • like c’mon, he helped you decorate a whole ass Christmas tree then let you put the star on top • this is marriage • happy holidays!

[greatpretending]

This City Never Sleeps

Word Count: 3421

Pairing: Eventual Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Light cursing.

Summary: You learn Peter’s secret, and it doesn’t take long for him to learn yours.

Note: This is really reader-heavy. but I really felt that in order to move on in this verse I had to develop that character and her relationships with the other characters. So, sorry if you wanted more Peter, but I promise there will be more of him in future installments. Also this is the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written in my life.

“(Y/N)! Has Peter told you about his new internship yet?” Ned asked excitedly, sitting down at your usual lunch table. Peter wasn’t there yet, but that wasn’t abnormal. He had chemistry before lunch and had recently taken to spending some extra time in the lab before coming to eat.

“No,” you said. “I haven’t really seen him yet today.”

“Oh, man, I don’t want to spoil it for you but it is crazy!” Ned said.

You ate your lunch quietly, listening to Ned ramble about the previous night’s episode of Game of Thrones while you did your math homework. The more work you did before you got home, the more time you could spend in the workshop. Eventually Peter joined you.

“Hey guys!” he said, sitting down next to Ned.

“Dude! Tell (Y/N) about your new internship!” Ned said immediately. You closed your textbook and slid it into your bag.

“Yes, do tell,” you said, leaning your elbows on the table.

“Okay, you’re never going to believe this,” Peter started, digging into his food. “But I got an internship with Tony Stark!”

You felt your stomach drop and the blood drain from your face.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

“Yeah!” Peter said. “The Tony Stark!”

“Did you actually meet him?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“That’s where I was this weekend!”

“Isn’t that so awesome?” Ned asked.

“Uh-huh,” you replied. “That’s… that’s really cool.”

Breathe, you thought. In… out… in… out…

“Dude, are you okay?” Ned asked you. “You don’t look too good.”

You stared at Peter, searching for any sign that he knew your secret. But all you were met with was confusion and worry. Peter was a terrible liar, you would know if he knew.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I gotta go,” you said, picking up your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. “Girl problems.” It was an awkward excuse, but you knew they wouldn’t dare ask questions later.

You hurried down out of the lunch room and down the hall, pushing past students as you felt anger bubble up in the pit of your stomach.

“PURDUE, call Tony,” you said sharply, locking yourself in the only single-stall bathroom in the school. The bop of a march seeped through the walls from the band room, too cheery for your firey mood.

“Dialing Mr. Stark.” PURDUE said.

You held your left wrist up eye level and waited impatiently for your uncle to answer your call. When he did, you could see that he was sitting at his desk in his office in Malibu, where he still spent a decent amount of time, despite having “officially” moved to New York after, well, New York. He was totally relaxed, feet propped up on the desk and smiling.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he asked cheerfully.

“Do you want to explain why my friend Peter came to school today after mysteriously going out of town for the weekend, the same weekend you went to Berlin, I might add, and is suddenly gushing about some ‘Stark Internship’?” you rambled, gesticulating wildly with your free hand. Tony put his feet on the floor and sat up slowly.

“Wait,” he said, tone serious. “You’re telling me Peter Parker and your friend Peter are the same person?”

“How the hell do you know Peter? What happened this weekend!?” You tried to keep your voice down, but you were growing more hysterical by the second.

“Damn…” Tony said, contemplative. Then he shrugged. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now. Your friend Peter is ‘Spider-Man’,” Tony said, doing air-quotes around the superhero’s name.

“Excuse me?” you asked incredulously.

“I needed more people on my side to fight Cap this weekend,” Tony said nonchalantly.

“So you put my friend in danger!?”

“I didn’t know he was your friend!”

“Regardless, he’s just a kid! I can’t–” you were interrupted by the sound of the lunch bell ringing. “I have to go to class,” you sighed, “but I am so not finished with you. Clear your afternoon, you and I have a lot to talk about.”

“Have a g-” you ended the call, covered your watch with your sleeve and exited the bathroom. You felt a little bad hanging up on your uncle, but you were still stewing in anger.

I’m sure it’s not the first time an angry woman has hung up on him, you thought, thinking of Pepper.

Making your way to your next class, you were relieved you didn’t run into Peter or Ned. You needed some time to think. Luckily, your English class was the perfect place to do that. You were able to make it appear you were doing the assigned reading while your mind was elsewhere.

You had been living with your Uncle Tony since you were ten, and no one knew about it. Peter and Ned knew you lived with your uncle, but they didn’t know who he was. You didn’t want people to know. You’d seen first-hand how people would “befriend” Tony for his money, and you didn’t want that out of your friends.

Living with Tony had it’s ups and downs. The first few years he wasn’t around much. He didn’t want to disturb your life any further than it already had been, so he purchased a penthouse in the city so you could stay in your school with your friends. However, his company was still based in Malibu, so he had to spend most of his time on the west coast, only coming to New York for a few weekends each month.

You learned to live for those weekends. After you became adjusted to your new life, you and Tony grew close very quickly. Even at a young age you weren’t unfamiliar with robotics, and the two of you would spend hours upon hours in the workshop, tinkering and developing new tech.

The first thing Tony did was gift you with your own AI, which you promptly named PURDUE, which stood for “Parental Unit Replacement Developed Under Egomaniac.” You weren’t in a great place emotionally at the time, but Tony laughed when you told him what it meant, so you knew there were no hard feelings.

PURDUE resided mostly in the smartwatch Tony built for you, but also in the earring you wore in the tragus piercing in your left ear, which was actually a tiny headset. He could do basic smartwatch things like make and receive phone calls and video calls, send text messages, and browse the internet. He could also monitor your health by tracking your heart rate, your temperature, and more. Most importantly, though, PURDUE was able to track your activities. It wasn’t invasive, but PURDUE would notify Tony if you were ever in a potentially dangerous situation. He also notified Tony the one time you tried to sneak out to a friend’s house after your curfew. That got you grounded.

“I would have let you go to the party, (Y/N),” Tony had said. “All you had to do was ask.”

That was when you realized Tony was actually really chill, and your bond grew tighter. You never felt like you had to lie to him, and therefore he never felt the need to keep you on a tight leash.

So yeah, you had a big secret you had been keeping from your friends since you met Freshman year, which is why you justified Peter keeping his secret. You just wondered how long your secrets would stay safe.

It turns out, it didn’t take much longer for your secret to come out. Less than a month later the three of you were at Ned’s house, cramming for a Spanish test. It was nearing midnight, and you were tired, frustrated, and a little hangry. Peter and Ned were arguing over a particular verb conjugation, and eventually you got fed up with it.

“PURDUE, what is the imperfect, ‘vosotros’ conjugation of ‘poder’?” you asked, not looking up from your notebook.

“That would be ‘podíais.’”

“There, are you happy?” you asked the two boys, throwing your hands up in exasperation. They just stared at you, eyes wide and mouths hanging open. “What?”

“Did you just talk to your watch?” Peter asked you, and you froze, replaying the last sixty seconds in your head.

“Shit,” you said.

Suddenly, your friends exploded with excitement, grabbing your wrist to get a better look at your watch.

“When did you get a smartwatch?”

“What brand is it?”

“Why did you call it ‘Perdue’?”

“Isn’t that a college?”

“Why didn’t you show us this before?”

“Can I try it out?”

“What all can it do?”

“Is it touch-screen?”

“It doesn’t look like a Samsung, maybe a Fossil?”

“Okay, okay! Stop!” you finally said, overwhelmed.

“You might just want to tell them” PURDUE said into your ear. You sighed.

“I will tell you everything, just please someone get me a Dr. Pepper. We’re in for a long night.”

After grabbing some snacks and soda, you settled back into Ned’s bedroom, the boys looking at you eagerly. You pushed up the sleeve of your hoodie and held up the watch for them to see.

“PURDUE is more than just a smartwatch,” you started. “He’s artificial intelligence. He can do basically anything I want him to. Make calls, book appointments, order pizza, monitor my heart rate, tell me when I’m getting dehydrated, tell me the weather for the day and what current traffic is like, the list goes on.��

“Wow…” Ned said, as Peter scooted closer and swiped through the different displays.

“How did you get your hands on this?” Peter asked.

“I’ve had it since I was ten,” you admitted. “My… my uncle made it for me. My uncle… Tony Stark.”

“WHAT!?” Ned exclaimed, and Peter dropped your wrist immediately.

“Shh! Keep it down!” you said, your heart racing. You had literally never told anyone this secret before. Anyone who needed to know already knew.

“You’re saying that this whole time we’ve known you, you’ve had a bad-ass artificial intelligence watch that was built for you by Iron Man, who is your uncle who you live with?” Ned clarified. Peter was still silent. You couldn’t look at him.

“…Yes,” you said.

“Peter, did you know about this? Is that how you got the internship?”

“No!” you said immediately. “Peter didn’t know, and neither did Tony. I already asked him about it- he didn’t know that the Peter he hired is the same Peter I’m friends with. And honestly, I had no idea he was going to start giving out internships, so I couldn’t have put Peter up for it if I wanted to.”

You snuck a glance at Peter, hoping he didn’t suspect you knew what the internship really was. Thankfully, he seemed pretty calm, so you doubted he was suspicious.

“Wait, so do you live in like, a mansion?” Ned asked.

“I live in a penthouse on the corner of 172nd and Jewel.”

“Can we come over!?”

“Maybe this weekend?” You said, unsure. “I’ll have to ask Tony, but I doubt he’ll have a problem with it.”

“Will he be there?” Peter asked, speaking for the first time since you dropped the bomb.

“I don’t think so,” you said. Then you looked at your watch. “PURDUE, what’s Tony doing this weekend?”

“Mr. Stark has a meeting with the United Nations in Paris.”

“Yeah, no, he won’t be there.” Peter looked relieved, and Ned looked disappointed.

“I’ll introduce you next time he’s in town, I promise,” you said to Ned, which cheered him up considerably. “I should really get home though,” you continued, gathering up your things. “It’s really late, and I want to be well-rested for this stupid test tomorrow.”

“Shall I call the car?” PURDUE asked.

“Yes, please,” you responded, zipping up your bag.

“ETA is 7 minutes.”

“Thanks, PURDUE.”

“You never told us why it’s called ‘Purdue,’” Peter pointed out, and you felt your face heat up with embarrassment.

“Uh… it stands for Parental Unit Replacement Developed Under Egomaniac,” you said.

“That’s… fitting, I suppose,” Peter said with a chuckle, and you smiled. Ned looked between the two of you and threw up his hands.

“I can’t believe I’m the only one in this room who doesn’t know Tony Stark.”

“You want me to let you have two boys spend the night when you have little-to-no adult supervision?”

You were standing in your living room that friday morning, talking to your uncle via video message on the large television. He seemed particularly intimidating projected on the screen at twice his actual size. He was sitting at his desk in his condo in Paris, wearing a suit with the tie undone. He must have just gotten back from his meeting.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I swear I have no interest in either of them,” you said. Tony raised his eyebrows.

“You’re telling me you aren’t interested in a cute superhero who happens to be one of your best friends? Sweetie, you know you can tell me if you’re gay. I once spent a weekend in Provincetown, and it was quite the eye-opening experience,” he said, over-sharing as usual.

“Tony.”

“I know, I know. The only superhero you have eyes for is Cap.”

“Tony,” you said again, blushing.

“It’s not you I don’t trust, you know that,” he sighed, twirling a pen between his fingers.

“You can have PURDUE monitor us the whole time,” you bargained, and Tony scoffed.

“I already planned on it.”

“I’m not asking to throw a huge party,” you sighed, “I just want to invite a few trusted friends over. They’re the only people who even know about me living with you. It’d be nice to not have to keep hiding my life from my best friends.” Guilt-tripping your uncle was not easy, and not something you tried to do often. After a few moments of silence, Tony responded.

“Fine. Are they going to tell their parents that they’re spending the night at a girl’s house?”

“Uh… well, they planned to say they’d be at each other’s houses.”

“…”

“Tony?”

“Thanks for being honest. You have my permission. No sex.”

“TONY GROSS! I’m fifteen!” you shouted, horrified.

“That means nothing to me. I have to go now. Get your homework done before they come over.”

“Thank you!”

“Love you, kid.”

“Love you, too.”

The screen went black and you did a victorious fist-pump. You pulled out your phone to send a text to Peter and Ned.

Pack your bags, boys! Operation: Live Like Stark is a-go!

By the end of the day, waves of excitement were radiating out of your friends, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself. You led them about a block and a half from the school to your usual meeting spot with your driver.

“You take a private car to school?” Peter asked, and you nodded. “I always assumed you rode the bus!”

“The bus is loud and I would have to get up half an hour earlier,” you shrugged.

“Holy crap! Is this a Tesla?” Ned exclaimed as you approached the car.

“Yep,” you said as the trunk popped open. You dropped your bag inside and the boys followed suit.

You opened the door to the back seat and gestured for Peter and Ned to slide in. Closing the door behind them, you hopped in the front.

“Good afternoon, (Y/N),” you driver, Paul, greeted you.

“Hi, Paul,” you said. “This is Peter and that’s Ned.”

“Hello,” Paul said to them, pulling away from the curb.

“H-hi,” Ned said, petting the leather seats. “This is the nicest car I’ve ever been in.”

“It is a very nice vehicle, yes,” Paul replied.

“I would say the same, but Mr. Stark took me for a ride in his Jaguar last week,” Peter said.

“Peter’s doing an internship with Uncle Tony,” you explained at Paul’s quizzical look.

“Ah,” Paul said, understanding. “How’s that going, Peter?”

“Pretty well,” Peter said. “Though, I don’t think Happy likes me very much.”

“Mr. Hogan doesn’t like anybody very much, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. You stepped out into the gallery and heard a soft “whoa” come from the boys behind you. You guided them to the living room, dropping your bag onto the couch. Before you could say anything, PURDUE spoke over the in-home speakers.

“Mr. Stark is calling.”

“Answer it on the TV,” you said, and the monitor flicked on.

“Hello, my dear, sweet niece,” Tony said. It was nighttime where he was, and he was standing on a balcony, champagne flute in hand, while a cocktail party moved about through the glass doors behind him.

“Hi, Tony.”

“Peter! Always nice to see you. Funny coincidence I happened to hire one of (Y/N)’s friends.”

“Yes, sir, we were both very surprised when we found out,” Peter replied.

“And you must be Ned!” Tony continued.

“Breathe, Ned,” you whispered, fearing your friend would soon lose consciousness.

“Hello, Mr. Stark, sir. You have no idea how much of an honor it is you meet you, sir, even through a video message.” Ned gushed.

“That’s very nice of you to say,” Tony said, unfazed by the teenager fan-boying over him. “Now! I have a few house rules I’ll ask you to follow.”

“Yes sir, anything you want, sir,” Ned babbled while you looked at your uncle, confused. You had no idea what his ‘house rules’ could be.

“Number one,” Tony began: “Eat whatever you want. Number two: do whatever you want. Basically, mi casa es tu casa. The only thing I really ask is that you don’t go into the workshop. Maybe next time I’m home I can show you around, but I’d rather you didn’t go in without supervision right now.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, smiling. “I would dream of letting these clumsy dorks near my work.”

“Good!” Tony said as Peter put a hand over his heart in mock-offense. “Now, if you need anything, put it on the card. Other than that have a lovely night, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Or anything I would do.”

“There’s a gray area in there, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked with a smirk on his face.

“You got it, kid.”

The call ended, and you turned around to find Ned sitting on the couch, fanning himself with his hand.

“I think I need some water,” he said, and you and Peter shared a smile.

Once Ned had recovered, you spend the rest of the night giving them the grand tour, then watching the latest blockbuster action movie on the huge 3D TV in the den. After the movie you had PURDUE order an ungodly amount of pizza for the three of you. You ate it out by the pool while you watched the sun set over the city.

You and Peter hadn’t discussed the elephant in the room yet- that you knew he had been working for your uncle longer than he knew Tony was your uncle. When Ned eventually fell asleep on one of the bean-bag chairs after playing with Tony’s VR gaming system, you and Peter quietly made your way out onto the terrace.

You leaned your elbows onto the railing, looking out at the Manhattan skyline. The silence between you was comfortable, and the night was as peaceful as it could be in the city that never sleeps.

Eventually, Peter spoke up.

“So, this whole time I’ve been talking about the Stark Internship, you didn’t bother to mention I’ve been working with your uncle?” he asked. You turned your head to look him in the eye.

“Peter, the whole time you’ve been talking about the Stark Internship, I’ve known exactly what it is,” you confessed.

“Oh… shit.”

You turned back to face the city lights, but you could feel Peter’s gaze on you, waiting for you to continue.

“I didn’t tell you I knew because I figured… you’re entitled to secrets, too. It would be pretty hypocritical of me if I got upset over it,” you explained.

“Uh… yeah, I suppose so.” Peter said. There was a brief pause before he continued. “It is nice knowing someone knows, though. It’s… relieving.”

“Just…” you took a deep breath, looking at him again. “I already have an uncle who’s basically a father figure as a superhero, and now my best friend is one, too. The amount of worrying I’m doing just doubled. Please, please be safe, Peter.”

“Of course. Yeah, I… of course.”