#and then I have to fucking take the next one next semester

[hyunjiisa]

line cook ! chan x server reader ₊˚⊹

a @hyunjiisa mini series → “ in my next life, i’m gonna be a rockstar. (i was a ballerina in the first one.) ” pairing no. 1

school sucked. your head hurt, your feet were tired, and you just wanted to go home. spoiler- you can’t. you can’t because your schedule got switched around due to it being the end of the semester, which means you also had to switch your shifts at work. luckily your boss was an absolute angel and she made it no problem switching anything around. the place you worked at was kind of fancy, paying pretty well and you got to keep all of your tips. more than enough to pay rent til you got your degree. then, you could finally start living life the way you wanted.

setting your internal rant aside, you check yourself in the car mirror and open your door. you greeted the host at the door, he was pretty and blonde- albeit his hair looked like it was one bleach away from death. he was sweet, telling you where the manager on duty was so she could direct you to your sections. you waved to him, promising you guys would get to know each other and heading to the managers office.

a little time later, you’ve settled in and you’re waiting on a table that has what you assume is a first date going on. the guy is a dick, and it seems like his date thinks that too. he’s been talking about himself all night and it’s only been about five minutes, so you feel for the poor girl. you walk over again to take their order, and, to no surprise, he has some special request that you don’t even know if you can make happen. the girl sends an “i’m sorry” look your way and you just smile and excuse yourself to check with the cooks.

you debate just going to the bathroom and coming out a little later and telling him no, but you did not wanna make that girls date any worse. you haven’t met any of the cooks yet, or even seen them because it was your first table. you hadn’t ran food, just drinks from the soda machine. you know you’re allowed back in the kitchen but you didn’t wanna just walk in and get stared at, so you opt for going up to the counter and peering up over it. you see a boy that looks about your age, maybe a little older? he’s tall (in what world i’m just self indulging) and muscular, some sweat dribbling off of his forehead from being over a stove and you make mental note of your new work crush.

anyway, you figure you need to actually ask him so you just go with the best approach.

“uhh..”

definitely the best approach.

he glanced up at you, seemingly confused up until he actually got a good look at your face and like, basically froze. you would’ve started talking, but he was looking at you like your eyes were hanging out of your head. like, eyes wide, mouth agape, eyebrow furrowed, just full on shocked. you looked back at him, staring just as much as he was because now you had an excuse to do so. it goes on for a while, til he’s just like

“uh, i, uhm. what’s your name ..?”

“it’s ! it’s my first day on this shift, also i think the food you’re cookings burning, but i had a question?”

“oh, thanks. that’s a pretty name.. mines is here on my uh- fuck where is it ?? my name tag!!”

you giggle, taking in his flustered demeanor. not expected, but a nice surprise nonetheless. sadly, you had to actually get back to your job, so you look back up at him and ask him if he could do what you needed. he reminds you of a puppy, sweet smile resting on his face when he assures you that he absolutely can. (he definitely wouldn’t have regularly done that, but that’s for him to know.) you return his smile and go to ring in the rest of the order, bracing yourself for the rest of your shift.

you barely see him for the remainder of it, sneaking little glances and sharing looks when you go to run more food. there wasn’t much of a dinner rush, thank goodness, so the rest of the night went by smoothly. the other tables you had were average, and tips were decent so no complaints were heard.

you were closing tonight, along with the rest of the servers on your shift. after all the customers were out you took the time to introduce yourself, not forgetting to say bye to the host or thank him for earlier. giggling together with your new work friends, you finished what needed to be done and lingered a little longer than everyone else on account of the pretty boy in charge of the kitchen.

the restaurant was warm; you’d never been there at night, and you took time to admire the view. it was the middle of winter, dark and starry, and you could see cars passing by. you found yourself thinking about how weird it was that everyone in those cars had their own lives and they were living them from their own perspectives. before you could get any further into your thoughts, someone’s hand tapping on your shoulder made you turn around. to your surprise (not really,) it’s chris, standing behind you with a nervous look on his face as if he isn’t the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

“hi, how was your shift?” “it was good! was yours okay? it wasn’t that bad tonight..”

the two of you continued on about your respective days, him joking that he was stinky and greasy to see the way your nose wrinkled when you laughed and you looked up at him through your lashes just to see the way he looked at the floor as his ears reddened. you stayed until your manager kicked the two of you out and told you to get some rest. thankfully it’s nice outside, the breeze moved your hair out of your face for you and chris was still staring. you played around with some rock on the ground using your shoe, and he broke the silence for you.

“weird question but can i use your phone for something maybe? mine just died. i promise ill be quick!”

smiling, you hand your phone over unlocked. then, you watch as he opens up your contacts, adds himself to the list, snaps a picture for it and clicks save. what did he save himself as? “cute line cook”. all you can do is laugh, and you laugh so hard you probably look stupid.

“really?? cute line cook??”

“what, it’s not accurate?”

“do you really want me to answer that?”

then he puts a heart over his hand, clutching it and taking a pained expression. he leans against his car that you two were talking by, staring at you looking betrayed.

“really? i thought we were more than that. you even let me put my number in your phone.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head and you tilt it up at him. oddly enough, it feels like you hadn’t just met him for the first time earlier in the day. you feel some sort of confidence blooming over you, and you let your eyes wander to his hand that’s still by his chest. then, the way his lips and cheeks flush in the cold. you look at his car next, it’s nice. black, sleek, very him. you don’t wanna go, but you figure your kitty doesn’t appreciate you being late for dinner.

“go home, you do stink.”

he snorts, opening your car door for you and the gesture makes your tummy feel giddy. once you’re comfortable seated and smiling up at him, he gives you his parting words.

“will you text me?”

“you know i will.”

the car door slams shut and he leans against his car again to make sure you leave.

maybe school doesn’t suck that bad.

↺

a/n : sorry this took forever, mama was traveling !! happy new years lovelies i hope your year is everything you want and more !! next one will be a little more romancey but this is just a little something to hold you guys off :) smau soon too !

general taglist for this account : @cosmicalily @zelinkcrossing @hyunjiluvs @nxtt2-u @pixie-felix @0sunshinecryptid0 @jinnieboosworld @lixies-favorite-cookie @eastjonowhere @smlbch @tricky-ritz

series taglist : @modesttiger

if you wanted to be added, removed or move to either you can comment , dm me or ask on @hyunnisa !

[sunshineyuyu]

gravitational attraction (k. ys)

★ summary: you’re taking intro to physics late as an upperclassman, but thankfully there’s another student in the same predicament–kang yeosang. the two of you end up as lab partners, and as the semester goes on, you become friends and maybe something more. ★ pairing: yeosang x gn!reader ★ genre: college, fluff ★ word count: 3.4k ★ tags/warnings:  college soccer player!yeosang, no y/n, physics lab partners to lovers, intentionally lowercase, platonic (or is it?) bed sharing/cuddling, this is all fluff :3 ★ notes: i know yeosang is actually really smart he'd probably be helping ME with physics in reality ! as always, beta'd by @starhwas-bunny ♡ ★ masterlist | read on ao3

you meet him during your first physics lab.

you’re a junior sitting in a class of mostly freshmen, all buzzing with that excited hum of making it through their first syllabus week. while you click your pen aimlessly, you think about the several ways you could’ve avoided taking introductory physics this semester: you could’ve manned the fuck up and gotten it out of the way freshman year, but you’d been scared off after doing poorly in high school; you could’ve taken it sophomore year, but that you would’ve had to take physics and linear algebra in the same semester; you could’ve switched your major entirely!

but unfortunately, you’re not sitting in the quad with your friends, leisurely throwing a frisbee while nursing a cold beer. instead you’re sat at a lab station, waiting for the teaching assistant to give instructions, and cursing yourself for arbitrarily choosing 2:30-5:30 on fridays as your designated weekly lab time.

you glance around, noticing how the other lab stations are filled with at least 2 people already, most of them chatting quietly. it’s not that you mind working alone―in fact you usually prefer it―but you’re shit at physics and you’re hoping for a budding astrophysicist to choose you as their lab partner.

instead, right at the moment that the TA clears his throat to introduce himself, the door into the lab creaks open and a chocolate-haired boy steps inside, calmly but a little breathlessly. he pinpoints the only seat still available (the one next to yours) and makes his way over. he moves with a kind of shamelessness that tells you he’s definitely not a freshman.

he’s lowkey jacked, you notice as he sits down beside you. his shoulders are solid and prominent, and you can see his biceps flex as he grabs a pencil out of his backpack. his hair falls over his forehead and just barely into his eyes, but he runs a hand through it to sift it out of the way. he’s attractive, your brain supplies uselessly.

right next to physics in your mental shelf of things you’re bad at is talking to pretty boys.

and oh, he is very pretty.

over the next hour, you learn that although your lab partner is quite beautiful, he’s also quite dumb. as nervous as you’d been about physics lab, this first one is simple enough, and you end up having to coach the boy sitting next to you through basic kinematics.

“thanks,” he says, scratching the side of his neck with the back of his pen. “i missed a couple lectures.”

“it’s the first week,” you say. “you’re already skipping classes?”

“the season just started and my sleep schedule is still a little wack,” he winces. you don’t blame him though―lecture for this class is at 8 am.

“season?” you say.

“soccer,” he says.

“oh,” you say. “that’s why you’re so…” you break off before you accidentally tell him that he’s jacked to his face.

he just hums in response.

thankfully, the two of you manage to finish the lab in less than two hours, and you note with a decent amount of satisfaction that there’s at least five other groups still working. you scribble your name at the top of your lab report, before trading to fill in your name on his sheet.

you glance over at his name.

kang yeosang, it reads. his handwriting is neat and thin.

“uh, so see you next week?” he says, as you exit the classroom together.

“yeah,” you say.

⋆⋆⋆

it takes fifteen minutes for the two of you to find the study room, which cuts into the two hours you’d reserved the room for. you’ve worked up a sweat while frantically walking around the third floor of the library, from both embarrassment and the presence of yeosang, who hovers over your shoulder as you lead him on a wild goose chase. you finally unlock the room and walk inside, only to be met with a whiteboard covered in phallic drawings and a questionable stain on the chair you happen to choose.

while you wrinkle your nose at the stain and tug on the hem of your shorts so that you can avoid any direct skin contact with it, yeosang settles into his chair and begins taking out his laptop and notebook. 

“how many problems did you get done?” you ask, mirroring his actions with your own things.

“bold of you to assume i started,” he says without a note of shame. he lays out his notebook and pen and calculator and looks up at you expectantly.

“yeo-sang,” you say. “it’s due tomorrow!”

“tomorrow at 11:59 pm,” he says. “that means i have all of tonight and all of tomorrow.” he pauses while you finish pulling up the assignment on your browser. “and i have you to help me.” he smiles at you smugly.

“bold of you to assume i’ll help you,” you retort.

he pouts, which creates an interesting contrast against his strong, muscly college-athlete figure.

“at least try every problem before i give you the answer,” you mumble, because you could never refuse kang yeosang. you cross your arms across your chest, but yeosang is smiling again. “you know if you don’t actually do the homework you’re not going to do well on the exams.”

yeosang hums in response, and you sigh.

over the next half hour, you walk him through the first few problems that you’d managed to finish relatively easily. he honestly picks up material faster than you give him credit for, and he’s never shy to ask even the dumbest questions. as you draw out a free body diagram to explain a question on potential vs. kinetic energy, a shiver runs through your spine. while the blasting ac had been welcome at first, you’ve always been sensitive to the cold, and your body is starting to reject the cool breeze. you can feel goosebumps on your arms, and your legs shake slightly.

of course yeosang notices.

“are you cold?” he asks.

“it’s one of my things,” you say, teeth chattering and waving a hand to brush his concern away. “i’m always cold and i cry at everything.”

“i’ve never seen you cry,” he says.

“hmm,” you say. “i cried during the midterm.”

he narrows his eyes. “you got an 84.”

“i thought i failed!” you say. “anyway.” you turn back to the diagram, adding extra arrows and labels. “so do you see how the potential energy becomes―”

“here.” yeosang shoves something at you, navy blue and soft. you blink at it until he unfurls it for you. it’s a hoodie. an official university athletics branded hoodie. 

“i’m fine!” you say, and with the rush of heat in your face from kang yeosang offering you a jacket, you honestly don’t feel the chill anymore.

“it probably smells kinda bad but―here, take it. you’re shivering.” a light pink dusts his cheeks, and he avoids your gaze. to save him the embarrassment, you take the hoodie from him. you stare at it in your hands, before finally pulling it over your head.

it’s so soft and warm, and you almost immediately feel your body temperature evening out. 

“thanks,” you say softly, burrowing into the neck of the hoodie. it does smell a little interesting―cologne and aftershave trying their hardest to mask the smell of sweat. but you don’t mind, because it smells like yeosang.

“not a big deal,” he mutters.

the two of you keep working on the homework for the next hour, and you manage to finish 13 out of the 15 questions. the last two are the hardest and longest, and it’s already nearing the end of your reservation for the study room.

yeosang yawns and rubs the heel of his palm into his eye.

“i can ask ryujin for help,” you say, knowing that yeosang’s strict athlete’s schedule means he should already be in bed by now. “and we can work on the last two problems tomorrow?”

“sounds good,” yeosang says. “i’m so tired.”

you pack up in silence. the two of you manage to find the elevators without much hassle, and the ride is likewise quiet, punctuated by yeosang’s occasional yawns. you stare at your hazy reflections in the elevator doors, eyes running over how his hoodie sits on your figure. you hate how much you like it.

you return the key for the study room to the front desk, and you walk out of the library together.

“i’m heading this way,” you say, gesturing in the opposite direction of the parking lot. “gotta meet up with ryujin to get that help.”

“thanks, again,” yeosang says. “i owe you.”

“good night, yeosang,” you say.

“see you tomorrow!” he calls, yawning again and turning to trudge away to his car.

he doesn’t ask for the hoodie back, and you nestle into it even thought it’s warm outside.

later, while you brush your teeth, sleeplily getting ready for bed, you catch a glimpse of white text in the mirror and you contort yourself to read the back of the hoodie. in thick square text is his last name kang and his number 8. you flush, realizing that you’re not only wearing his hoodie, you’re wearing his name and number.

⋆⋆⋆

you brush pale green crumbs off of your practice exam, scowling at yeosang seated next to you, munching contently on a stick of matcha pocky.

“stop making such a mess!” you complain, sending your shoulder into his to give you some space while you read over the last free response question.

“i don’t get this at all,” he says, peering at the question too. “i’m totally gonna fail this midterm.” he groans and drapes himself over the back of his chair, letting his head hang back dramatically in despair.

“with that attitude, yeah,” you say. you rummage with the foil packet of pocky, finding it disappointingly empty. “did you seriously finish all of the pocky? that was my last bag!”

his head swings back up to give you a sheepish grin.

“you owe me,” you mutter, reaching over the desk to swipe his still unfinished bottle of calpico. he doesn’t fight you, but watches quietly as you unscrew the cap and take a deep drink of the thing.

“there,” you say. “we’re even. actually―” 

you tilt your head back and raise the calpico to your lips, draining the bottle.

“there,” you say, slamming the now empty bottle onto your notebook with a satisfying plastic crunch. “now we’re even.”

“you didn’t waterfall,” yeosang chooses to comment. you whip around to stare at him.

“so what? do you have cooties?”

he hums instead and tugs the practice exam out from under your hand.

“so you’re totally gonna have to walk me through this whole problem.”

the sun sets, and the natural light seeping in from your large windows fades from white to orange to red to nothing. in the thirty minutes since the room has plunged into semi-darkness, neither of you have gotten up to turn on your ceiling light. instead the two of you sit crouched over your desk, illuminated by your desk light and the rotating rainbow colors from the LED lights that wrap around your walls.

“i’m going to fall asleep,” yeosang finally announces, throwing down his pen and collapsing over the desk, eyes shutting and forehead thumping against the wood.

“we still have three practice problems!” you say, nudging at his shoulder. it’s surprisingly taut under your finger, and you flush thinking about the amount of muscle packed into his body.

“i’m too tired,” he whines, muffled.

you consider his statement.

“why don’t you take a power nap?” you suggest. “chaeyoung does it all the time. she takes, like, fifteen minute power naps and feels loads better and just keeps studying.”

yeosang perches his chin on the desktop, peering at you through half-lidded eyes.

“how does that even work?” he says. “i don’t think fifteen minutes is enough.”

you shrug.

“she sent me an article once.” you begin pushing him towards your bed. “i think there’s science behind it. just―nap. i’ll finish the problem we’re on and then we can switch for the next one.”

it’s a testament to his fatigue that you’re able to maneuver him out of his chair and onto the bed behind you. you think vaguely of a different context for you to be pushing him onto your bed, but you dismiss those thoughts quickly. your biggest concern right now is making it through this practice exam, especially when one of your friends had mentioned how much the professors like to reuse old exam questions. and you aren’t going to do it alone. after you’d helped yeosang through the last five homework assignements, he’d promised that he’d work through the practice exams with you, and you aren’t about to let him flake on you when it’s only 11:30 pm.

“fifteen minutes,” you say, setting the timer on your phone and showing it to him.

he’s already made himself at home on your bed, wrapping himself in your soft blanket and grabbing your favorite cat plush to sandwich between his arms.

“don’t squeeze her like that,” you complain.

“shhh,” he says. “don’t make me waste my fifteen minutes.”

you huff, but you drop it, heading back to your desk to decipher the question you’d left half-finished. 

five minutes later, yeosang’s soft snores are the soundtrack to your struggles through the next problem. you’re tempted to check the answer key, but after preaching to yeosang the consequences of just looking up answers without doing the work, you’re caught in your own high standards.

eventually, your phone chimes to indicate that fifteen minutes are up. you swivel around in your chair, intent on tormenting yeosang but you find him still sound asleep, snuggled deeper into your bed. he’s tucked your plushie under his chin, his grip looser around the stuffed animal’s round body. vaguely, you think you might be a little jealous of that inanimate object.

you’re so fucked, you think numbly, evaluating the situation.

you have a midterm in two days, and a slumbering hot athlete in your bed.

why on earth did you think convincing yeosang to take a nap in your bed would be a good idea?

you shut off the alarm when it becomes clear that nothing will rouse yeosang from his slumber. you figure he needs his sleep, and you’ll wake him up when you finish the practice exam.

an hour later, yeosang’s still sound asleep and at the rate your yawns keep increasing in frequency and length, you’re heading in the same direction.

you’ve managed to finish two out of the last three questions, but the final problem is so convoluted and scary that you betray your own principles to just copy off of the answer key. 

you clean up your desk and shut off the desk light, shuffling towards your bed. you poke and prod and whine at yeosang to wake him up.

“yeosang,” you say, focusing your attacks on his shoulders. it’s the one area of his body you allow yourself to touch. anywhere lower and you think that you’ll be picturing exactly what is beneath your hand, and anywhere near his face will make you want to kiss him stupid.

“yeosang. yeosang. yeosang,” you chant. “wake. up. stupid.”

he finally stirs, shifting onto his back and exposing a small circle of darkened fabric on the pillow case where his mouth had been seconds before.

“you drooled on my pillow!” you shriek.

“shhh,” he mumbles. “i’m sleeping.” his voice is deeper, shrouded in sleep, and oh, it sends a tingle down your spine.

“no!” you say. “you’re leaving. go home. i finished the practice exam so i’ll just go over it with you tomorrow. you owe me big time.”

“but it’s so comfy,” he says, his eyes still shut and voice still husky. “my bed isn’t this nice.”

“it’s memory foam,” you mutter.

“mmm,” he says, and then suddenly you feel a hand, a large and warm hand wrapping around your waist and tugging you down. you tumble onto yeosang, face positively on fire as your hands go out to catch yourself and oh―

your cheek is pressed up against his chest―his very firm chest―and your hands are grazing the sides of his equally firm abdomen.

“hm this is nice,” he says, the arm around your waist tightening. you feel his chin brush against the crown of your head. 

“go home, yeosang,” you say, but without any of the conviction you’d had before. you’re cuddled up against your insanely attractive crush, and even you understand the need to take advantage of situations handed to you on a platter.

“nah,” he says. “too tired to move.”

you laugh quietly into his body.

“at least let me get under the covers.”

⋆⋆⋆

he confesses under the illumination of the numerous string lights strung along the porch of your favorite burger joint. it’s a chilly december night, and yet you’d been craving a birthday cake milkshake, and like always, yeosang had obliged.

“you know i like you, right?” he says, licking at the bit of pink shake dripping over the edge of his cup.

you freeze, quite literally, since you have always been sensitive to the cold. the milkshake hits your head in a splitting brain freeze, just as a particularly strong breeze ruffles through your hair.

“huh?” you manage.

“i like you,” yeosang continues, casually. he’s taken off the plastic cover of his shake and he’s digging at the shake with a spoon. “i feel like i’ve been pretty obvious about it, but i figured it was about time i confess for real.” he takes a spoonful of his strawberry shake into his mouth, savors it and then swallows. “especially since you’re going home soon so i won’t be able to see you in person for, like, a month.”

he hums around another spoonful of milkshake, while you nearly drop yours in surprise. your mind moves in fast forward until suddenly it cuts to complete emptiness. you stare at yeosang, mouth agape and head absolutely empty, no thoughts.

“what?” you shriek.

this causes an actual reaction in him. he jumps a little and turns to you, eyes slightly wider and spoon hanging out of his mouth.

“you like me?” you say, voice shrill.

“yeah,” he says, a little incredulously. “i thought you knew?”

“i- you- you thought i knew?” you say.

“it was obvious?” yeosang says.

“how was it obvious?” you ask.

“i dunno,” he says. “like i gave you my hoodie. isn’t that a thing boyfriends do? and i tease you all the time? and i slept over. we cuddled.”

“that- it- it wasn’t- it was purely platonic!” you hiss, ripping off your thick scarf so the cold can combat the warmth spreading from your cheeks to your forehead.

“oh,” he says. “so does that mean you don’t like me back?” he peers at you, almost void of emotion, still sucking on that stupid spoon.

“what makes you think that?” you say, breathless now.

“you said the cuddling was platonic,” he says.

“that’s- that’s because i didn’t know how you felt,” you say.

“and now you do,” he says.

“and now i do,” you parrot.

“and?” he prods.

“and―” you gulp. “―and i like you, too.”

“hmm,” he hums. “good.” he’s smiling now, this stupid shit-eating grin that you’ve only ever seen a handful of times. yeosang’s not one for big expressions, but this―

this is how you know he’s not joking with you.

“good?” you repeat faintly.

“yeah,” he says, setting down his milkshake and spoon onto the table. “so, can i be your boyfriend?”

“boyfriend?” you say.

“i thought i was the dumb one in this relationship,” he says.

“relationship?”

“seriously?” he sighs. “alright, how about this.”

he surges forward then, hands cupping your jaw. his lips slot over yours and suddenly you’re kissing kang yeosang. closed mouth, but substantial, and oh his lips are so soft.

yeosang pulls back, but his hands stay on your face, thumbs rubbing circles into your cold and slightly numb cheeks.

“oh,” you say.

“yeah,” he laughs. “you get it now?”

“yeah,” you say. “yeah―you can be my boyfriend.”

[yeahtimesten]

a wedding to remember pt 1 - p.z

fake dating au, wedding guests, patrick zweig x reader

patrick zweig is desperate to prove to his parents he can make a commitment to tennis, by using you to show his parents he can commit, period.

multi parts, warnings - lots of cussing

Art Donaldson, Tashi Duncan, Patrick Zweig, and you all sat together in the Stanford dining call, the girls next to each other and the boys across. They all dug into their meals, making small talk, until:

“So, I gotta head out for practice,” Tashi said, gathering her things onto her tray and rising off of the booth. “Maybe later you two can meet us at our dorm and we can watch a movie or something.” She smiled at the two boys, as she traced her fingers down your hair.

“I actually have to head to my study group right now,” Art followed suit. “I’ll see you guys later.” The two walked out of the cafeteria together and the two of you remained seated, finishing your meals.

“What are you up to after this,” Patrick asked you, sliding his body across the bench to be face to face. “Got any plans?”

Patrick and you, within the two years you’d known each other, had never really hung out alone together. Usually, at least Tashi or Art accompanied you whenever Patrick came to visit. He wasn’t sure if he could consider you a friend, he mostly knew you as Tashi’s roommate, an acquaintance at best. You were sweet, you listened to his stories and told him your own. Whenever he came over, you had snacks that you knew he liked ready. Patrick knew your preferred choice of souvenirs were keychains and shot glasses, and he brought you some every time he came to visit from touring. But, they weren’t by any means close the way that Art and Patrick or Tashi and you were.

So, when Patrick asked you what you were doing next, you felt a bit awkward. Did he want to hang out or was he just being polite? Did he want something?

“I was just going to go back to my dorm and study,” you said plainly, taking another bite of her sandwich.

“I’ll walk you back,” he offered, with a small smile.

The two of you wrapped up your meals and headed out of the dining hall.

“So, what are your plans for this summer,” Patrick asked, biting the skin around his nails. He looked down the whole time, hoping not to catch your eyes.

“Um, well, I was going to go back home and find a full time job, I guess. Just save up money for next semester,” you shrugged. “What about you? Continuing your tour?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve got a few trips planned for later in the season, more towards fall actually,” he sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “Actually, my sister is getting married in two weeks so after my match next week in Indian Wells, I’ll fly out there to attend.”

Your both approached your dorm and you invited in Patrick, who took a seat on your bed and you at your desk.

“Oh that sounds like fun, Patrick,” you smiled at him, before quickly clocking a face contorted and twisted with disagreement. “Or, no, not fun? I know you talk a lot of shit about your family and your parents but it can’t be that bad, can it?” He eyed the girl in front of him who was so naive and unaware of his dysfunctional family.

“You don’t understand, they’re fucking crazy,” Patrick sighed. He pulled his legs up to sit cross legged in your bed.

You started to flip through your notebook and set up to study. “Okay, well do you have a role in the wedding or something? Are you the best man or a groomsmen?”

He scoffed. “God, no.”

“Alright then, just go for the actual wedding,” you shrugged, not looking away from your notes. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be weird to bring Art along, then you could just pick up a bridesmaid and call it a day.”

“I already have a plus one,” he coughed, and started biting his nails yet again.

“Oh, who,” you inquired, still more focused on your papers.

A beat of silence. Patrick placed his hands in his lap and looked at you, with a deeper tone of seriousness. You turned his way and caught his face, still as a stone. He looked like he had just been carved from marble, he was so still.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your head cocked to the side. “Who?” You repeated, growing worried and confused.

Patrick swallowed hard, unsure how to go about his words. “You, I hope.”

Patrick had been acting weird all day, you had caught that. Someone who was normally loud, unfiltered, and extroverted was suddenly quiet, reserved, and seemingly anxious as soon as he had seen you this morning. You blinked rapidly, trying to process what he said.

“Me? What do you mean me?”

“I want to take you to my sister’s wedding,” Patrick said plainly, with newfound sturdiness. He sat back on his hands and continued to look at you, who had now turned your chair to face him.

“Okay, I get that,” you nodded. “But, why? What for?”

“Well, like you said, it sounds like fun,” Patrick lightly chuckled, eliciting a sigh from you.

“Patrick, be for real.” You leaned forward in your swivel chair. “Why me? Why not Art? Or Tashi, even?”

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Patrick regained his seriousness. “A huge favor.” You just looked at him with wide impatient eyes, your arms gesturing for him to continue. “I need you to come to this wedding with me… And pretend to date me.” He sighed as if he’d been holding his breath for a long time, the weight of the request off his shoulders at last.

But, your face just contorted in more confusion.

“What? What the fuck, Patrick?! What for?”

“It’s hard to explain-“

“Well, try!” Patrick opened his mouth again, but you cut him off. “I mean, I don’t see why you can’t ask Tashi. I’m not good at lying, and I’m not trying to say anything about Tashi, she’s my best friend, but she’d be much better at something like that than I am.”

“Tashi wouldn’t work, she wouldn’t sell it,” he muttered more to himself. “I don’t know why you, y/n. You are sweet and polite, but cutthroat when need be. You’re smart, determined, pretty. You tell all these stories about how great you are with your friend’s parents, selling them an illusion of safety for their children before taking them to parties or whatever the fuck, so you must be kind of good at lying.” What started off so sweet, turned accusatory, and you couldn’t brush past that.

“I never sold an illusion. We stayed safe and out of trouble, none of my friends ever got hurt or arrested, so I wasn’t lying,” you corrected. “Just to go to some house parties, by the way. Not like we were knocking down some liquor stores.”

“I recall a story you told us about you calling your friend’s strict mom posing as a teacher asking for consent for her son to stay late for an extra curricular event so you take him and your friends to a concert.”

“I didn’t say I was a teacher, I introduced myself as Ms. y/l/n, and that I wanted to him to participate in a concert as an extra curricular activity to enrich his knowledge in music. We were in choir together! I never lied,” she pointed at him. “But again, Tashi can lie and she’s all those other things you listed. Ask her, I’m sure Art wouldn’t mind, he loves your schemes even when he warns you against them.”

“I already said Tashi wouldn’t work,” Patrick grew exasperated. He knew there might be some pushback and didn’t think you would just say yes on a whim, even though that’s what he hoped. But he actually hadn’t planned out the conversation very well to convince you. “Listen, my parents aren’t big fans of me playing tennis. They want me to quit, or at least step back a bit for now, and give me a seat on their company board. They say I can’t take anything seriously and say I won’t amount to much and I’ll just end up a washed up athlete someday. Tashi is a tennis player and they know that and even though she is all of those things, it would just come off as biased. You could convince them that maybe tennis isn’t half bad and that I can take something seriously and commit and have children to pass on the family wealth and name. You can sell that in a way she can’t.”

Your stern look softened. You sympathized with him. No, you didn’t have the slightest clue of what it was like to have parents who didn’t support you, but you had plenty of friends who had similar experiences of wanting to go through with their dreams but were held back by unsupportive parents.

“So? Will you attend the wedding with me?” You stayed quiet, biting the inside of your cheek. “We’ll be there for a week, we’ll attend a few get togethers before the main event. We aren’t in the wedding party, we’re just guests. The food will be good, I’ll even take you into the city.” He was desperate, and he grabbed both of your arms. “Please?”

You looked up at him, deep into his pleading eyes. Your heart melted, feeling needed by him. It’s true, you’d had a crush on him for a long two years. It wasn’t painful or deep. You knew he was hot stuff, you loved the way he made you laugh, you loved the tidbits of undivided attention he’d give you when you told a story. You were looking for any excuse to say no.

“I’m not good at lying,” you reinforced.

“You don’t have to be, you can be yourself. Holding hands occasionally isn’t a lie. My parents will appreciate the lack of PDA otherwise. And they might try to get to know you, surface level stuff, but they won’t drill you. They stopped asking so many questions when they asked a girl I brought over how it was like growing up in the plains of Montana and she got offended because she thought they called her state ugly and boring.” You both shared a giggle in what was before such a serious conversation, which made Patrick feel all the more comfortable. “She got so worked up and said ‘Montana may not seem like much, but it’s far from plain. It’s my home and it’s beautiful.’” He did a poor impression of the girl, eliciting more laughter from you.

“Poor girl,” you joked. “But, honestly Patrick, I can’t afford a plane ticket. And I know it’s just a week, but I was hoping to get a summer job as soon as possible to save as much as I can. I don’t even have a dress to wear to a wedding.” You hated admitting that, even though it was true. It wasn’t an excuse, it was a valid reason. You didn’t want to say no. Even though Patrick’s parents sounded like a pain in the ass, it did sound fun to prance around a mansion for a week.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to pay,” Patrick laughed. “It’s my treat, the whole week. Any expense, I’ll take care of. You can even go dress shopping on my dime. I know this is a lot to ask of you, I’ll make sure that you’re compensated.”

“God, Patrick, if you insist,” you teased. “I won’t hear you beg any longer.”

He scooped you into a big hug. “Thank you, y/n, seriously.” He gave you a peck on the cheek, causing you to blush.

once i had a love - blondie

Finals were over, closing up another year of college. Tashi and you stood in the shared dorm, packing away bags for summer break.

“So, you’re going to pretend to be Patrick’s girlfriend for a week,” Tashi stated, but it was also a question.

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged.

Neither of you were facing each other. Both of your luggage was stacked on beds on opposite sides of the room.

“I just don’t understand why.”

“I don’t either. He said I’ll impress his parents and I guess make them more accepting of him playing tennis? I don’t know…”

“No I mean, I don’t understand why you said yes.” You continued folding clothes and cramming your suitcases.

“Because he asked, I guess? It’s not like I had anything better planned, to be honest.”

“You’re too nice, y/n,” Tashi sighed. “And Patrick is a pussy. If he really loved tennis, he’d take it more seriously and he wouldn’t care what his parents think, he’d just go for it.”

“I don’t know, Tashi,” you sighed back, with a tinge of attitude. “But, I already obliged and he already bought the ticket, so… Too late now, I guess.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Are you mad at me?” Tashi finally turned towards you. “I’m not talking shit, I’m just being honest. I’m just saying, maybe if he put in an effort and didn’t glide by on talent alone, maybe his parents would take him seriously and support him.”

You stopped mid shirt fold to meet Tashi’s face. “No, Tashi, I’m not mad. I get it. I’ve heard you and Art talk to him about getting a higher education, applying to go here and be guided by an actual coach and trainers. I don’t know anything about tennis but, I agree. And I don’t know what me being there will do to actually help. But like I said, I have nothing better to do… And honestly? I’m excited to see his house. I’ve never been inside a mansion before, or even to an actual wedding, besides when I was a little kid and I was the flower girl.”

“Ha, I bet you were such a cute flower girl,” Tashi said, shaking her head. By now, the two of you had resumed packing. “Hey, remember those photos I showed you from the party Adidas threw me after I won the junior open?”

“Yeah?” Tashi turned her head to look at you.

“Patrick’s house is bigger than that,” Tashi nodded, as you turned her head, jaw dropped.

“No fuckin’ way,” you scoffed. “That place looked huge. Even bigger than that?”

“That’s what Art told me.”

“What’s up with you and Art anyways? Like, what’s the move between you two?”

“Well, I’m not initiating the ‘what are we’ conversation. Nuh, uh. We’ve been fucking around, and I know he likes me, and I think I’ve made it apparent that I like him back. He’s just taking his sweet ass time making it official,” Tashi explained. “Like we are basically together, but I don’t run off assumptions. I like labels, sooo. I don’t wanna say I’ll drop him but I don’t want to wait around forever, you know. I deserve more than a nonchalant boyfriend thing.”

“Art is not nonchalant,” you laughed. “He’s so obsessed with you, he’s just shy. Maybe he’s trying to wait for the right time.”

“There is no time like the present,” Tashi said. “Well, I don’t think we’ll see each other all summer… So, we’ll see.”

a/n - praying to gawd that i actually keep up with this. reminder you don’t have to listen to any song i link or even canonize any outfits i may link, tbh. i do it for self indulgence

divider by @/chachachannah

[bechloe-trash]

(Sorry for any grammar errors. I wrote this @2 am)

‘Boxers’

Chloe loves to help. She loves to help animals, strangers, plants; but especially her friends. She helps all the girls in the Bella household; all but Beca. Beca doesn’t ever want help from no one, not even her own father. ( except for occasional $50 every once in a while) So when the red head came up to to ask if she needed help with anything, she turns her down. Chloe felt a little down that Beca doesn’t need any help. Even if it was as small as taking out the trash from her bathroom, or gabbing an extra box tampons while she out grocery shopping.

“You know you don’t have to feel bad if you ever and I mean ever need help with anything. I’m always her to help.”Chloe says to Beca as she heading towards the door.

“ I appreciate it Chlo, But I’ve been doing things by myself with no help for years. I kinda have this all under control.” Beca says with a shrug

Chloe just gives Beca a nod that’s she understands what the brunette said.

Chloe knows she shouldn’t be in Beca’s room grabbing her laundry basket, but she couldn’t help it. ‘It’s just Laundry, I’ll just wash and dry, then fold her laundry and just set it neatly on her bed.’ Chloe thought to herself as she was leaving the attic bedroom.

“ ummmm Ginger I don’t think Beca will be too happy, with you doing her laundry. You know how she is about people helping her. One time I was trying to give her some of my Butt confidence and she lost it. Most people love when I help them and give them some of my butt confidence but not Shortstack” Fat Amy says as she goes to lay down on her bed.

Chloe just rolls her eyes and proceeded to head down stairs to do Beca’s laundry.

“ its just a friend helping by do their other friends laundry, how mad could she be” Chloe mumbled to herself as she reached the bottom of the basement stairs.

She puts Beca’s clothes into the washing machine and hit start and sets a timer on her phone to get the clothes out and transfer over to the dryer when they get done washing. After 35 mins she put the clothes into the dryer. ‘ still don’t see the problem with me helping her do her laundry’ Chloe thinks to herself as she’s gathering the laundry to take back upstair.

Chloe is sitting on Beca’s with the clothes sprawled over the bed starting to fold. She laughs and makes a mental note of just how many pairs of black skinny jeans Beca has. How many pairs of black skinny jeans does one woman need. She goes to grab the next article of clothing…. She stops dead in her tracks holding up a pair of boxers up in the air [ thank goodness Fat Amy had left, She didn’t want to embarrass Beca for finding boxers in her laundry ] Eyes wide Chloe is trying to figure out whose boxers these are. ‘ are they Jesse’s ? , no he and Beca broke up well over 9 months ago’ Chloe thinks back to herself. Beca hasn’t had any guys over, so whose boxers are these? Chloe continues to fold some more…. Another pair and another pair. Chloe starts to go through the pile and notice there’s no panties…. Does Beca Wear boxers? ‘ bet she looks hot in them’ Chloe thinks to herself as a slight blush crept to her cheeks . Chloe finished folding the clothes and sets everything neatly on the bed ready to put up.

Later that afternoon Beca returned from Classes and her shift at the campus radio station. She comes through the door and heads straight to her room. As she opens her bedroom door she notices the pile of neatly folded clothes on her bed. Color draining from her face. No one knows shes started wearing boxers. And of all people to find out, her crush. “ FUCK” She quickly heads downstairs to find Chloe.

“ Dude! You did my laundry! Why?’ Beca says with a worried tone “ I told you I didn’t want help with anything”

“ yes I did your laundry for you. You’ve been picking up extra classes this semester and thought Id be nice and help you out. One less thing for you to worry about you know’ Chloe says with a shrug never breaking eye contact “ I was trying to help, I’m sorry “

“I..I…You know what never mind” Beca says turning around with tears starting to form, running back upstairs to hide.

She made it all the way upstairs and ready to slam the door behind her, but as she turns around she’s met face to face with Chloe. She just turns away makes her way to the bed, Chloe close behind her.

“ Whats wrong Becs?” She asks placing a hand on Beca’s Shoulder. “ If I’d known you be this upset about me doing your laundry, I would’ve never done it.”

“ It’s not about the laundry its self, it’s about what’s in the laundry” Beca says with a sigh not looking up. If she makes eye contact with Chloe she’ll lose it.

“ You mean the boxers?” Chloe asks looking at Beca “ if that what you mean….. I saw them but I didn’t really think too much of them.

Beca shakes her head and puts her head into her hands,

Cautiously she asks Beca “ Are they yours? Or…. Some guys “

“Dude no, That would be Gross for me to keep some guys boxers” Beca says with a grossed expression. “ yea they’re mine.”

Chloe looks at Beca “ why are you so upset about it then? Every one has their preferences. Hell Stacie doesn’t even wear underwear.” Chloe laughs.

“I don’t know I guess being in a house full of females its kinda embarrassing…but they’re comfortable as hell dude ! “ Beca exclaimed. “ I guess it’s the fact that of all people to find out, it had to be you ”

“Oh….. is there a reason why you didn’t want me to find out? Did you think I’d judge you?” Chloe lifts Beca chin up “ look I’d never judge you…. Unless you say you hate Taylor Swift, then I’d have to judge you. Other than that Id never judge you, you’re my best friend.” Chloe says with a smile.

Beca shakes her head “ not that. I know you’d never judge, it’s just embarrassing cause I….. Ididntwantmycrushtofindoutthatiwearboxers” Beca says really fast kinda hoping Chloe didn’t hear the last part. She needed to get it off her chest.

“ You didn’t want me to find out you wear boxers because you have a crush on me?”

Chloe looks at Beca with a perplexed expression. “ Wait you have a Crush on me?”

She took Beca’s quietness as a yes

“ I bet you look hot in your boxers” Chloe says in a flirtatious tone.

“What?” Beca says looking Chloe in the eyes

“ I said I bet you look hot in boxers, I mean you have good body. Maybe one day I’ll see you in just your boxers” Chloe says winking at Beca

Beca sitting there confused

“ Becs relax, first off I don’t care you wear boxers because, second I have a crush on you too silly. I’ve been flirting with you for a bit of time now, but never made a move because I didn’t know how you felt.”

Beca lets out a breathy sigh of relief and smiles

“ Can I see ? I mean you in your boxers. I still stand on thinking you’d look hot in them”

“Yea, you can.” Beca says before getting up taking her pants off exposing the boxers.

They’re short on Beca barely reaching mid thigh. Chloe was right Beca did look hot, but she’d look hotter without her shirt on. Chloe stands up and lightly puts her hands on the bottom of Beca’s shirt. “ May I ? “ Chloe asks. Beca nods. Chloe pulls Beca’s shirt off. Chloes eyes scan over Beca’s body. Chloes taking in every detail;The way the boxers hug Beca’s hips, to the brunettes toned stomach. Chloes reaches to trace the hip tattoo Beca had got 2 months ago. She traces the tattoo with her fingertips, causing Beca to whimper. Chloe looks up to Beca. “ Fuck I was right you are hot”

“ Just shut up and kiss me already” Beca says kinda desperate. Beca didn’t have to tell Chloe twice and with that She captured Beca’s lips into hers. After they both break away from the kiss Chloe mumbled “ these boxers are definitely doing something to me.”

“ maybe should’ve switched sooner” Beca laughs

THE END :)

[wewontbesleeping]

this assignment I’m working on is soo hard bc the topic is like. highlight a surprising impact that a business (the one that you chose for a completely different topic for a different paper) has had on your community. like. am I supposed to LIE? because there isn’t a surprising impact that this restaurant has had on my community?????? what am I supposed to write about ??? it’s a restaurant???????

[ambersky0319]

fuck >:/

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[a-concert-just-for-me]

God gives his hardest battle (policy analysis paper) to his weakest soldier (me)

[roaringroa]

they should make a life where you don't have appointments, work, school and scheduled events every single day for months on end

[camelspit]

how am i supposed to raise my gpa if i keep getting the shittiest fucking teachers on earth oh my god. no more peace and love i hope they die.

[zemnarihah]

art students are suuuuch babies dude i actually can't believe all the profs are so nice i'd be grabbing people by the shoulders and shaking them and yelling "JUST REMIX THE FUCKING COLOR WHY HAVE YOU TAKEN 3 PAINTING CLASSES AND YOU STILL WONT EVEN ATTEMPT TO MATCH A COLOR THAT YOU MIXED BEFORE WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING THIS WHOLE TIME DO YOU HAVE LITERALLY NO DESIRE TO IMPROVE OR DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND THE PERSON WHO IS ALWAYS MAKING INCREIDBLE WORK IS ONLY OUTSIDE FACTORS YOU CLAIM TO HAVE NO CONTROL OVER RATHER THAN WORK AND A WILLINGNESS TO TRY CHALLENGING THINGS

[supercantaloupe]

the thing abt grad school is that it's hard and after a year and a half im kind of already ready for it to be done with by now but also idk wtf im gonna do once im out

[watery-melon-baller]

Lads i have Fucked Up Big Time

[orcelito]

Actually it was surreal as hell to look at my transcript today. I've got all but 3 classes done or in WIP. I'd have to Severely fuck up to fail any of my classes this semester, by this point. Which I don't think will happen. Honestly I might even get straight A's for the first time in college. Which would be cool!!!

So just three classes left. Just three. It's so wild. I'm pretty excited.

[bread-of-death]

Whelp. I just emailed the Dean.

[polygondotcomvideoproducer]

Uni lecture is making me think about my future for a minute and auuuggghhhh the agonies