#college apps are already kicking my ass and I’ve only been in school for a week

[dooblesdoodles]

Rahhhh school just started why do I have to apply to college why can’t I just be a cat girl on a silly little adventure

[troubatrain]

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets. 

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you. 

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter. 

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report vii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: FINALLY~ we get to see a little bit of JK’s pov heh 

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii​ @zeharilisharaban​ @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn  @aamxxrii @codeinebelle ​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

“I hope you don’t mind us picking up a friend first then a drive thru afterwards... we did promise  someone a ride to the ceremony as well.” Chohee eyes Jungkook through the rear-view mirror. “Plus, we haven’t had any breakfast yet sooo…” Your new passenger uncharacteristically nods with unbridled enthusiasm. Huh.

“Totally not an issue at all. If you don’t mind, breakfast is on me,” he announces, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. You raise a freshly threaded eyebrow. There is no way this kid is actually offering to pay for your food. Jungkook clears his throat quietly, “Um...since you guys offered me a ride...you know…” 

Without even having to look at each other, you just know you and Chohee have similar smiles plastered on each of your faces. “Well,” Chohee makes a quick glance at the man seated at the back, “if you insist, Jungkook-ssi. How nice of you to do so.” 

You’re positive Jeon Jungkook will regret he even offered - in half an hour. Probably less. 

Just recently, Chohee has decided to relive an old hobby of hers: teasing you relentlessly with men clearly way out of your league until you actually end up investing much more time than intended (just as planned by Chohee) - until you come to the realization that there wasn’t going to be even the slightest chance of them even liking you back. End point is - you end up getting heartbroken for irrational reasons. 

Chohee, whose eyes sparkle with mirth with every mention of the Jimin, continues her teasing, despite your constant reminders to have her energy and time diverted to another subject, instead of poking her head through your currently non-existent love life. 

It’s an undisputed fact that Jimin is a cutie and quite the charmer, especially with his heroic deed of saving your sorry ass from getting your drinked spiked at the bar. However, there is a part of you that knows the slightest bit of infatuation you might feel or might have felt for Jimin was probably caused by the lack of interaction with men for the majority of your collegiate life. Of course, you always came back to your principles, that of which is prioritizing your career to shun love interests. 

Admittedly, you might have gotten distracted once, but you won’t ever let that happen again. 

In line with your best friend’s attempt to have you score a date and a boyfriend eventually, (her timeline, not yours!)Chohee had even gone so far as offering Jimin a ride to the oath taking ceremony that’s going to be held today at the Coex convention center at Gangnam. 

With Jimin’s apartment just a couple of blocks away from the gasoline station, you spot him right away when Chohee turns right into the corner. He’s stood by the entrance of his apartment building, looking effortlessly attractive as he scrolls through his phone while waiting. 

Chohee presses her fist lightly against the center of the wheel, the car emitting a soft honk to get Jimin’s attention. Jimin gives a curt wave in acknowledgment and reaches between his legs to grab his satchel. As soon as Jimin opens the car door, his head jolts slightly backward in surprise when he sees another passenger already inside. 

Chohee does the ice-breaker, introducing Jungkook to Jimin while she drives off. “Just before we got to your place, we had to fill the tank first and whaddya know? Met Jungkook at the gas station too! His bike broke down and I’ve offered him a ride - ergo, your new seatmate.” She adds a thumbs up. “Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin.” 

Contrary to Chohee’s cheerful voice mere seconds ago, awkward silence ensues after the two men bow to each other in greeting. The only subject of sanity the car was holding onto was the soft voice of Chohee’s navigation app coming from her phone on the dashboard. 

Why was it so hard to talk when you’ve all got at least a few things in common? 

Right, maybe it’s the fact that Jimin may or may not have known about your beef with Jeon Jungkook. Chohee’s doing, obviously. 

Thankfully, you spot a Burger King joint along the way and propose getting a greasy breakfast instead of looking for other options. There are murmurs of agreement heard in the suddenly cramped space of your best friend’s car. “Jungkook-ssi, breakfast still on you, yeah?” Chohee asks, joining the queue. 

“Uh…yeah-” 

“Perfect! Just making sure because _________ and I are famished!” Okay - that wasn’t exactly the word you were looking for, but if it gets you the free meal, then you’re absolutely ravenous. Chohee’s eyes briefly pass yours before sending a wink in Jungkook’s direction. “How ‘bout you Jimin-ssi? You hungry?” 

He looks at you, then Chohee, then at Jungkook. “I’m fine, I’m not hungry.” You see Jungkook trying painfully hard to not let his eyes dart around too much. Just then,  a low rumble erupts from Jimin’s stomach. Woops. Your brain can dictate your emotions but tummy would never lie outright. 

“Jimin-ssi!” Jungkook clasps a hand on the blond’s shoulder. “It’s fine! Breakfast is on me. Order up, bro!” 

With Jimin still looking hesitant, Jungkook decides to add a little fairy dust to his encouragement, “think of it as a mini celebration of us finally getting to be licensed doctors in a few hours!” Jimin gives in with very evident reluctance, even offering to pay for the whole group instead at one point. 

Your swear you see hesitation cross Jungkook’s eyes briefly, but you’re glad he’s a man of honor, even if it be for this particular instance only, firmly dismissing Jimin’s proposal. Which is perfect, honestly, because  this time you get a chance at revenge and a very hearty breakfast. 

“No crumbs on the floor, please!” 

From the backseat, you see Jungkook eyeing your paper bags on yours and Chohee’s laps, face stoic as ever. Emphasis on bags. A little more concentration and Jungkook can pretty much send lasers blasting through his eyes with the way he’s scrutinizing your orders. 

As shameless as it sounds, you and Chohee were never ones to back out of a free meal - and make the most out of it, especially when one had offered so nicely. So imagine Jungkook’s reaction when he and Jimin only got a Whopper meal and you and Chohee get upgraded full meals. 

“Doesn’t seem like we’re the ones who should be worrying about crumbs…” Jungkook mutters, taking a bite of his fry that’s a little too harsh for a slice of a poor fried potato. 

“You say something Jungkook?” Chohee queries, unabashedly letting out a small burp after taking a sip of her chocolate flavored milkshake. Bowing his head, Jimin tries to hide his smile as he takes a bite of his burger. You decide to step in, wanting to add a little more MSG to your breakfast menu this fine morning. 

“Hey Chee, heard of the news last Monday? There had been recent occurrences of drivers kicking out their passengers in the middle of the expressway, especially this road in particular… talk about some zombie apocalypse shenanigans...I wonder why though…” 

Jungkook clears his throat, addressing you this time. “Your strawberry milkshake...good, yeah?” With cheeks flushed, Jungkook dares not to look forward, murmuring his regrets over ordering more food next time. 

You nod with genuine gusto, throwing him an additional thumbs-up, which only causes Jungkook to sulk slightly in his seat. You eat the rest of your food with a bright smile. Ah, free food - what else is there to say? 

“If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help.” 

After reading the Hippocratic oath, the newly declared licensed medical doctors collectively put their hands down and take their seats. There is an immediate sense of fulfillment heavy in the air. Nobody can blame them - not when one has gruelled through six years of medical school. 

Jungkook inhales deeply, yet he still feels like he’s out of breath. 

He draws in another long one, savoring each second of exhale afterwards. From his peripheral vision, Jungkook watches you as you wave endlessly to the someone on the far right where the family and relatives are seated. Though he can’t see much from afar, with the way your hands are moving slower by the second, he figures you’ve already managed to catch the attention of whoever it is you were waving at. 

Jungkook diverts his eyes somewhere else, eventually landing on the stage where he sees his own father, standing behind the podium as he gives - what people beside him would consider - a ‘motivational’ speech in front of all the new doctors of Korea. 

He wonders if he could even see him, if he knew that his own son actually made it through college, if he realized that they were under the same roof at this very moment - an occurrence he never thought would happen again. 

Jungkook reverts his eyes back to you, watching you in secret as you talk to yourself while trying to address someone else. So you were waving to your parents after all. Cute. The man couldn’t fight back the small smile etching onto his face.  

He was happy for you - a genuine statement, even though majority, if not all, your encounters consist of you both bickering like small kids… And yet, he can’t deny the strong feeling of envy brewing at his heart, knowing that he could never have the same type of interaction you had with your parents, with how tight you all seem. 

Jungkook felt sick. Even though you ordered twice as much as he did, he felt like throwing up. He wanted this ceremony to be over with already.

Much to Jungkook’s relief, the program ends shortly after that. Excited to greet and congratulate the new batch of doctors, people from all sides of the venue rush to the entrance. With literally nowhere else to go, Jungkook decides to follow you through the crowd, in the hopes that you’ll lead him to Chohee and Jimin so he could properly thank them for the ride and he could be on his way. 

He’s surprised to not see you the least bothered by it, but then again, the convention center is packed with both the oath-takers and their relatives, so you might have really not known that he’s been following you all along. 

Like usual, it’s Chohee who notices him first. This girl is everywhere, all the time. 

“Jungkook, you’re here!” 

Chohee's acknowledgement of his presence causes you to turn in your heel quickly to verify it. You stare at him briefly, opening your mouth as if to say something when someone calls out your name.  “Mom!! Dad!!” 

Your English call causes a few onlookers and Jungkook recalls somebody once pointing out that you were a foreigner - and that you were also the first one to finish at the top of the class at SNU. 

With Chohee’s parents tailing yours, they rush to their own daughter, congratulating her with a hug and a cute bouquet of tulips. As Jimin appears with his own party not too long afterwards, Jungkook figures it’s his cue to leave. At this rate, none of you would have noticed if he actually left. 

Just as Jungkook was about to take off, a small hand grabs his wrist. You’re looking up at him and he swears he sees your lips curve upward a little before dragging him back to your little group. Stunned as ever, Jungkook wonders if he hinted on a little bit of concern in your features… and you smiled at him! For the first time! At least that’s what he thought he saw. 

Admittedly, all interactions between you and him were not the most friendly. Jungkook knew he acted like a dick a couple of times, but it’s the only way he knows that might allow you to lower your guard because the only thing he was certain of was that you get worked up every time you see him. 

Regardless of whether or not it really was a smile, Jungkook finds himself standing in the midst of this gathering of some sort. “Moms, Dads, this is Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin.” 

The moms suddenly gush over them, while their fathers eye the two younger men warily. “Are you?… you’re not…” Chohee’s mother nudges her husband a little too obviously. “If they are, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?” she grits, a bright smile plastered on her face. Jungkook wanted to laugh at the uncanny resemblance with her daughter. 

“Oh what young fine men you are! Mrs. Park, you must be very proud of your son!” Your mother exclaims, resting her cheek on her palm. “But Jungkook-ssi, your parents must be lost then… my husband and I couldn’t figure out how this whole convention center works either…” 

Jungkook shakes his head slowly, lips pursed. “Oh. Um, my parents won’t make it today. They’re very busy people…” Jungkook drags his words, hoping they’ll drop the subject. 

Well, they did, but there was an inevitable pregnant pause after that - one which Jungkook was avoiding in the first place. Chohee’s mother clasps her hands together, breaking the awkward tension. “Uh - would you like to join us then? A little celebration for a memorable day?” 

Jungkook bows his head curtly and declines the offer. He wanted to, but he knows it’ll only do more damage to the wound. “It’s okay, Ma’am. I still have quite a lot of things to do today, like getting my motorcycle fixed.” Jungkook nods to Chohee and the girl briefly recalls how they got to the venue together. 

Jungkook doesn’t take long after that, bidding his goodbye to everyone and thanking Chohee for the ride that morning. “Well, I’ll be going now. __________-ssi, Chohee-ssi, Jimin-ssi, guess I’ll….see you when I see you.” 

“See you when we see you then,” you reply and Jungkook swears it’s an actual smile on your face this time. He returns the action and gets on his way, hoping that he really does get to see you all another time.

© joontier 2021

[caermis]

❝Love❞ Ch. 1

❦BNHA! Various X Black!Reader ❦Characters:  ⇻Izuku Midoriya ⇻Mirio Togata ❦Warnings: None ❦Plot: “Y/N L/N. Thank you for your help.” -H.E.R.O Ward Association, Block 15. A young 20-year-old, that has been chosen as the right choice to raise 10 Installments. That are Children? ❦Notes: ⇻This does not involve Pedophilia, Hebephilia, or Ephebophilia(Nothing to do with a sexual attraction towards literal children) -G/BsF/N = Best Friend’s name

❝Ch.1❞  ❝Ch.2❞

Chapter One

A New Mother's Dismay

Midoriya & Togata

I am Y/N L/N

Her E/C eyes silently watched the striped ball roll to her feet, before trailing up the group of kids in front of her. They were all faceless, and their voice held no real warmth or joy, but they screamed the 10-year-old's name. Over and Over and Over. Asking her to play or pass the ball to them. Slowly picking up the ball, taking slow steps before speeding up excitedly. They cheered her name, waiting for her. Before she tripped over her own feet. Tumbling to the ground, the ball rolled back to the other kids. Feeling tears prick her eyes, before slowly sitting up. Only this time, the kids frowned at her, and picked the ball up, and walked away.

I am Y/N L/N

I stared at the red F- on my test; I gripped my skirt, trying to stop the tears at my failure. The faceless high school students chuckled and turned from me like I wasn't even worth bullying. Like I didn't exist. I was alone. I am alone. Repeating those words, I looked into the mirror and watched my face morph into the kind face of my mother. I would never be like her.

I am Y/N L/N

My feet dragged against the pavement, I casually walked home. I sighed. I was currently a university student, who was after their Master's degree in literature. Having published a book, when I was 18, lucky it allowed me to get a scholarship and buy a house, still didn't mean I wouldn't have to get a thankless job.

Luckily working at the University Cafe wasn't extremely bad. Tiredly lifting my arm, iLuckily,t was already 9 pm, and the sun had set a few hours ago, but the streets were still lively, with other College students going out on dates. Seeing my apartment building in the distance, I let out a sigh and took out the gate key. Inputting my pin code, I opened the metal gate and slipped inside and let out a yawn. Staggering up the steps, I walked down the hall, just wanted to get inside and change into something comfortable, until I noticed a package in front of my door.

Walking up to the brown cardboard box, my name written decoratively in sharpie. Lifting the box, I quickly unlocked my front door and slipped inside. Kicking my shoes off and locking the door, I walked into the living room and placed the box on the coffee table. Using my keys, I ripped through the tape and began to open the box. A white card rested on top of a black box, my fingers grabbing the card and reading over it.

A gift.

-H.E.R.O Ward Association. Block 15

"What..." Placing the card aside, I pulled out the large black box and took off its plastic wrapping, my fingers running along the metal of it, before opening it. I yanked my hands away, staring wide-eyed at the money inside. I slapped my hands over my mouth and stared at it, before grabbing the note on top and reading it. 

Y/N L/N,

Congratulations! You have been chosen as the direct Caretaker of Block 15: U.A-L.O.V. This is part of your payment, once receiving an installment, which is 200'000 per Installment. This amount has been doubled as of today, due to [REDACTED] circumstances. Expect the arrival between this week or next week.

Thank you,

-H.E.R.O Ward Association. Block 15

I bite my bottom lip, closing the box. So it wasn't a mistake. Grabbing my computer, I started to look at the H.E.R.O Ward Association. Finding absolutely nothing or anything I did find was restricted. I stared back at the box, thinking of ways to get rid of it or return it. I didn't sign up for this, but something told me I couldn't get out of this predicament. 

“John! A Number 15! For Mary!” You called out before turning back to the woman behind the counter. “That’ll take just a minute.” Mary smiled and turned from the counter, going back with her friends. Seeing that was the last person, I let out a sigh. Just happy that the lunch rush was over. 

Rocking on my heels, I glanced over the cafe, before locking eyes with a tall boy with blonde hair. Dread immediately filled my stomach as he smiled brightly and proudly walked towards the register, making exaggerated movements with his arms.  

I watched him with a raised eyebrow as he came closer, just spotting a short boy with green hair stumble after him. Upon reaching the counter, he smiled. “Are you L/N-san?” I nodded and watched his smile get bigger and he pulled out a white card and passed it to me. 

Y/N L/N, The first installment. 1/10

Name: Mirio Togata. Age: 9 Block 15: Permeation

Looking from the note back to Miro then looking away from the blonde boy and yelling into the back. “I’m heading out early! It’s an emergency!” Turning back to Mirio, he stared at me with happy blue eyes. “You're very pretty L/N-san.” Giving a half-assed smile, you slipped off your apron and moved around the counter, just spotting the green-haired boy as he hid behind Mirio. “Oh! This is Izuku. He’s 7 and shy. Say hi and give L/N-san your card.” Miro ushered Izuku forward, making him almost trip but catch himself and fumble with his fingers, and pull out a card, quickly pass it to me and hide behind Mirio. 

Y/N L/N, The first installment. 1/10

Name: Izuku Midoriya. Age: 7 Block 15: One for All

Not having time to go over the details, crouched down and stared at them. Offering your hand. “Let’s go get something to eat.” Mirio excitedly grabbed my hand, while Izuku slowly grabbed mine. Standing up, I walked with the two boys, heading towards the pizza parlor, mentally thankful that I left my backpack at home, and that I kept my wallet, phone, and keys on you. 

Finding a table in the back, I left them here to get a medium-sized pepperoni, half cheese pizza. Paying for the meal, I went back to the table, waiting for my name to be called. “Thank you, L/N-san,” Izuku whispered quietly as he sat beside him, fiddling with his hands.

“Y/N. Call me Y/N.” You smiled and clutched your hands together, having literally no idea what to do. The two seemed respectable enough not to cause trouble. “Y/N. I like your name a lot. Are you from America, cause…” He trailed off, subconsciously rubbing his skin, his eyes on mine. 

“Cause you look different.” Izuku grabbed my hand, showing the difference of skin tone, “but not a bad different. A good different.” The green-haired boy quickly added on. Mirio nodded, smiling at me. Feeling my heart clench, I ran my hand through Izuku’s hair and reached across the table and padded Mirio’s head. “Thank you.”

“A half Pepperoni and half Cheese for Y/N!” Pulling for the two boys, I told them to wait for me as I went up and grabbed the pizza. “Y/N! You had kids! When!” One of my friends, G/BsF/N grabbed my arm and stared at me. I rapidly shook my head and crossed my arms. “Hell no! Listen, I’ll explain later!” Grabbing the table, you headed back to the two boys. 

“I've never eaten pizza!” Mirio excitedly took a bite of his slice, while I quickly slid a plate, handing  Izuku a smaller slice. Watching the two eat, I pulled out my phone, going through different apps. 

“Y/N?” Looking at Mirio, watching him sink lower into his seat. He stared at me with wide eyes, seeming to be panicking. Permeation. I quickly stood up and moved to his side. Grabbing his shoulder. Not exactly sure what to do, I made him look at me. “Y/N, Im...Im sorry-”

“Hey. It’s alright. Just breathe. I'm here ok.” I spoke softly, slowly patting his head. Watching him slowly reappear from his seat, his hands gripped my shirt. Staring at him, whatever I just got myself into, I couldn't back out of.

“Miri... I'm here for you ok. It was an accident. Let’s just go home alright. We can buy clothes and things tomorrow.” I slowly pulled away. Packing up the rest of the pizza before leaving. 

Upon arriving at my apartment, I found a yellow and blue backpack in front of my door. “I'm assuming those belong to you two?” Mirio sheepishly smiled, as I walked with a sleeping Izuku on my back. “Sorry. We thought you'd be home, but you weren't so we went out to find you.”

“How do you know where I work?” 

“The man who brought us here told us.” I unlocked the door, allowing him inside first. Watching Mirio quickly slip off his shoes and dart deeper into the house, excitedly looking around. Walking inside, I kicked the door closed and took off my shoes, lacing Izuku on the couch, and using my coat as a blanket. Placing the box of pizza on the counter.

“Mirio?” Walking down the hall heading to the spare bedroom, Mirio stared out the window into the street. “Y/N, is this me and Izuku’s bedroom?” I slowly nodded, staring at the makeshift bed, until I actually bought a bed. 

“I thought you both could help me buy a bed. Seeing as money isn't an issue.” Mirio nodded excitedly and rushed out of the room, going to explore the apartment. Which had only three bedrooms and two full bathrooms, so they had enough to explore. 

After a few minutes of exploring on Mirio’s part, and me on the computer, looking at certain bed frames, Izuku cuddled up to my side. 

“Y/N! Do you think we can go to school!” Mirio slid into the living room, a red sheet around his neck like a cape. He was playing superheroes with himself, saving invisible citizens and villains, going by Lemillion. “Well, legally you'll have to.” Mirio cheered and disappeared down the hall. 

“Do I have to go to school too?” Izuku tiredly rubbed his eyes and looked up at me. I nodded and watched him smile. “Izuku come play Heroes with me!” Izuku looked fully awake and climbed down, darting towards the sound of Mirio’s voice. 

Listening to their cheering and entrances introducing themselves, sometimes bickering on how to save someone. My eyes focused on the best schools close to the apartment, before settling on Boku No Hero Academia K-12 School. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!” Izuku in a white cape, naming himself to be All Might, and Mirio who had changed his red cape to a black one, changing into a villain. Ran into the living room, staring at me. “Play Heroes and Villains with us! You can be the person I save.” 

“But I wanna save Y/N too.”

“But we need a Villain and Villains can't save people.” Izuku and Mirio went back and forth before I stopped them. “You can take turns.” The two nodded, and we went on to play. 

“Give me the secret formula!”

“Ah, save me!” Struggling in your metal restraints (horribly tied yarn) you stared at Villain Lemillion with fearful eyes, as you fell closer to the lava(floor). “That’s fine. This lava can read your mind, so I'll win either way! Mwahaha!” 

“Someone help me! I need a hero please.” Falling closer to the lava until the door opened and there appeared the hero All Might. “I am here to save you Y/N-oops I mean-I am here to save you, citizen!” He chucked a pillow at Villain Lemillion making him fall back. “No, my plans!” Watching him fall into the lava, dying with his tongue out and making a sizzling sound. 

“Are you alright!?” All Might jumped onto the platform, undoing my restraints and making sure I was alright. “Thank you! You saved me! You're my hero.” All Might look embarrassed and smiled.

“Still sizzling over here.” 

We looked over the edge of the platform(my bed) and down at Villain Lemillion, who was somehow still alive. “How are you alive!? I killed you!” 

“You're a hero. Heroes don't kill people!”

“Y/N, do heroes kill people?” Mirio and Izuku looked at me, I thought for a second. “I guess if they really need to but never their main villain.” 

“Main villain?” Mirio climbed onto the bed and stared at me. “Like the person, they go up against. “Like Batman and the Joker. Their main rivals, but you can always have more than one rival.”

“Like! Like! Um...when All Might fought All for One so they're main rivals!”

“Oh! You're so smart!” Izuku's eyes lit up as the two talked. Maybe All Might was a Hero, I haven't heard of. You brushed it off and checked the time, 8:23 PM, and the boys ate around 5 or 6, so dinner was in order. “We’ll eat dinner, then you both can take a bath. We’re going to check out your schools tomorrow.” The two cheered and climbed down, rushing towards the kitchen. Following them, deciding to settle on Pizza, which they basically inhaled and ready for a bath.

While they took a bath together, I chose their PJs, realizing that Mirio had zero sense for what was for bed and what was not. After a few minutes of slashing and hero talk, they both came out squeaky clean, saying that heroes needed to be clean. Tucking them into bed, they both started asking me for a bedtime story.

“Uh, I don't know any.”

“Make one up!”

“N/N, please!” Izuku called me by my nickname, staring at me with Puppy dog eyes. Sighing, I cleared my throat and made myself comfortable. “Once upon a time, there was a boy. A boy not many liked cause he was different, though this boy had a friend. A friend that was really mean to him and put that boy down.”

“If they were friends. Why was his friend mean to him?” Mirio spoke quietly, staring with half-lidded eyes. Izuku slowly nodded, “Shouldn't friends be nice to each other?”

“Until that boy met a hero, and that hero gave that boy his power, after some convincing. So the boy was given the old Heroes power, a dangerous power that would hurt the boy, but the old Hero didn't tell the boy that. So the boy could tell no one. Though this boy didn’t listen and told his friends, who didn't believe him. We soon learn his friend is jealous, he thinks the boy looks down on him. Jealousy is a nasty thing.”

“That doesn't sound like a hero.” Mirio slowly dozed up, while Izuku softly muttered. Slowly patting his head, I nodded.

“I guess it doesn't.”

[writing-frenzy]

Airplane Crossing Over Plots~

Like it says on the tin, these were ideas I had for crossovers involving our fav writer~ (EDIT: Thank you @guiltycorp for inspiring this a bit XD)

Now, I’ve mentioned before, with Airplane choosing the go home option, he ends up still with a golden core in all this mess but he needs to cultivate his body really carefully because of it. (come on, he put in all the time and effort to be an immortal master, he should be able to still have his bad ass skills; not to mention with it being a soul thing, because a golden core is just as spiritual as it is physical, so he will definitely still have it.)

So, sealing his core and having his Nascent Soul outside his body to relieve some of the pressure on it, (having it look like a little chibi SQH that usually hangs out in hoodie pockets or hiding in Airplane’s hair with an aura of disguise around it), Airplane has to go and actually work out, which isn’t too much of a hardship for him at least, seeing as he’s had years to get into a routine and survival instincts kicking in to help him out there.

And, he may have actually started taking school seriously again, actually applying himself, maybe even getting an online accounting job to help supply his income. When he’s steady with that, he finishes PIDW the way he had been leading up to, the ending that makes the most sense and satisfices the writer the most (and if it gives him some closure, he isn’t saying anything about that.) Now that he is finally free from PIDW, and has college and work to worry about, he writes whenever he damn well pleases, and whatever he wants to fuck what anyone says.

(He might or might not write some absolutely filthy porn whenever the mood hits him, and cackles how his fans both greedily read it and cry because his newer works are so tragic, even if they have happy endings at times. Yes, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky is a porn writer, but first and foremost is he an angst writer more~ His fan’s tears and cries just make him stronger kind of writer~)

(I just honestly want Airplane to write what he wants to now, that is one of the biggest motives behind all this honestly)

So, we have the set up :D let’s get to what we can cross over here~

First Up: ~Cutivation Group Chat~

Come on, how can one resist this? Plopping good old Airplane into this wild ride is one of the few things that makes me so happy in life. The thought of it makes me grin, especially since it can go two ways in my opinion~

First way: Airplane replaces Song Shuhang; like, just seeing Airplane, who was an Immortal Master and Teacher in those situations would be so funny, yet intriguing as well to see how he handles it, because you know he’ll be able to, just in ways no one ever expects. (Besides, that werid luck of Shuhang’s would be perfect for him, tho he won’t seek death like the other would~ :D Airplane still has a lovely sense of self-preservation~)

Second way: Airplane is one of Song Shuhang’s roommates. (for this, I’m going to say their Dorm was big enough for five peeps, because I want Airplane to have more friends damn-it.) Just... the imagery of the two neutral disasters getting into so much mayhem and hijinxs together, giving Song Shuhang not only a friend/brother in arms he can always depend and rely on, but also a steady source for learning and cultivation as well :D

(Also, Airplane and Gou Moumou being writer friends, the two of them able to bounce ideas on to each other (oh god, now you have inspired me, how dare you make me write this./hahahaha, you know you want too/ bitch turnabout is fair play/ ah fuck.) also: just the image of Airplane meeting Senior White and being completely unaffected because not only is his survival instincts going in overdrive, but also:

Airplane: ? He’s not my type.

Everyone: *jaws dropped*

:D Anyways~

Second Idea: Card Room (Rebirth)

Now First, for those who don’t know Card Room (Rebirth), this is an action/survival/mystery thriller BL Unlimited Flow type of novel; it follows one Xiao Lou, a medical professor who specializes with examining the dead, and his journeys through multiple rooms after having died in reality, the difficulty of each of these rooms measured with Playing Cards from 2 to K and with different types of rooms being sorted by their suits of Hearts (Mystery), Diamonds (Puzzle), Spade (Survival), Club (Luck/Money). The Goal of the story is to beat all the rooms and return back to the world of the living once more. To aid in this, people can get special cards to help them fight/ take care of their health/ or even just daily life essentials to be able to actually get through places. 

So... this means after getting all used to living once more and getting into his grove in the modern world... Airplane unfortunately kicks the bucket, yet again! Thing is, this time it happened after he played a card game with some of his roommates, I’m going to say poker, and they were betting who would do what chores. Aiplane managed to make out pretty well, and was pleased with it, so was very much bummed when he ended up dying yet again.  He goes through the room, some by the skin of his teeth, but with his cultivation abilities still usable (can’t stop something on a soul level here) he gets by okay. Though, all his cards either deal with writing, supplies, and the rare cultivation one at times.

He gets by at least.

Now, because this series gives me some emotions, here is one thing I will say: Airplane and Liu Ying end up partnering up and break through together, because damn it, Liu Qiao and her sis deserve some damn happiness ;-; Maybe Airplane and Liu Ying meet by chance, Airplane impressed by the young woman’s intelligence and Liu Ying can in turn be grateful for Airplane’s resourcefulness. Maybe even include the original girl that Liu Ying teamed up with, So we have three people already in your team to survive! (because surviving the rooms 2-4 is already damn amazing considering how hellish they get :D ) 

This is a fun crossover for me to imagine honestly, because it would be perfect to showcase Airplane’s skills in logic, reasoning, and pure survival our boy is known for; let that resourceful and logistic riddled mind out to play as he fights to get the fuck out of this world, even if The City of the Moon is beautiful and all.

:D So, those were the ideas I would like to really see, but here is some more for anyone curious:

Honorable Mentions: These are ones I would love to see Airplane accidently going into, and just going yikes, or nope! or even ‘Really?’

Lord of End of World:

... This story, it concerns me greatly; I like the worldbuilding, even has a few really cool girls in it, and I find the protagonist rather curious (to an extent, blackened Gary Stu that he is...) but does it make me cringe at times with the underage theme to it; it’s part of their cultivation and all, but god damn does the way this story push some of it really sqink me out, I had to drop it because it made me so uncomfortable, so just a heads up there. this is one of those stories that makes me want to write spite fiction, but also make me cringe at the thought of remembering it at times.

Anyways, so, how it boils down to it is that this poor guy, known as the Young Master of the Unground Palace, was abused in all the ways one can practically be abused, just so their Master can get stronger themselves by forming the perfect cauldron to absorb, but who manages to kill their master only to die as well. He ends up transmigrating into Gong Lixin, a 16 year old wealthy young master about a year (I believe) before the apocalypse happens... (Like I said, I have so many damn issues with this damn story, I cry.)

Just, on one hand, imagining Airplane in this world also makes me laugh (and maybe hope), because maybe here Gong Lixin could actually learn a cultivation style thats not only suited to him, but also doesn’t need him to dual cultivate all the time and rely on cauldrons (maybe get some needed therapy as well, Airplane knows some peeps; I can dream~), he can have a stable, reliable teacher here who will have no lust or attraction to him, Airplane helping the kid out at first because they look like they’re recovered from a really bad Qi-Devitation and the teacher in him can’t leave that alone. Airplane can also relate with the youth about transmigrating, maybe even telling him about his own time with that. (And Airplane can use his own cultivation to smack around any bitch looking sideways at his student, because fuck that shit, he is only seventeen and traumatized.) Just, turning this story into a cute mentor and discipleship and emotional healing would make me so happy.

Monster Inn Rectification Report

So, this is another Transmigration story~ MC transmigrates as a poor canon fodder son, who would have ended up in a vegetable state after being neglected in favor of the super amazing awesome adopted son. He then goes on to accidently inheriting a supernatural end for Monsters~

Like, this idea makes me grin evilly; though things will change up a bit, since both of Airplane’s parents have already split up and have their own families? Just, the Former An Ding Peak Lord running an Inn? :D Building it from ground up from bascially nothing? :D Oh, man, this man has run worse things, and even a Demon Kingdom, he got you~

Supernatural Movie Actor App

Its a BL about a guy with a split personality who does realistic (as in for real) horror movies through an app, to get his wish to come true.

This actually goes really good with my idea of Airplane wanting to be an actor and all, only to have his dreams crushed :D He doesn’t at first realize what he is getting into when he gets the app, thinking it might be a chance for him to still be able to do his dream, only, surprise, surprise, he ends up entering a real life Horror movie environment~ I’m really curious about what he would dream about~

I Have Medicine

:D Airplane and Gu Zuo interactions make me smile~ these two would be so fun, seeing them bounce off each other would be a treat.

So What if You’re Reborn

.... hahahahahaha, oh, the chaos that could be unleashed in this timeline would be glorious~

Running Away From the Hero

:)

[ibuproffie]

snr szn ~ advice for high school seniors

it’s not gonna be perfect, and that’s ok. high school movies tell us that senior year is this amazing time in your life where you have all these formative experiences that shape the course of your destiny or something, but in my experience this is not really the case. my senior year was somehow both excruciatingly slow and very fast, and it had ups and downs just like any other school year. so if your senior year isn’t a wonderful collection of instagrammable moments, don’t worry. everyone else is finding “senior season” a little underwhelming too, even the people who seem to be having the most fun. quite frankly, you shouldn’t want your senior year of high school to be the best year of your life. 

college apps are important, but you don’t have to kill yourself over them. i know, i can say this because i just finished them, but it’s so true. applying to college is a horrible, tedious process that i’m going to attempt to break down in another masterpost. i went to a high school where people were fucking obsessed with getting into college, and it was sort of horrifying to watch people self-destruct over the process. even i (and i consider myself a fairly private, non-competitive, even-keeled person) went a little nuts towards the end. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, there is no reason on god’s green earth to apply to twenty or more schools. it’s expensive (most application fees are 60+ USD), time-consuming, and stressful. the only reason i can even see why you might be doing this is if you qualify for a bunch of application fee waivers, but even then, it’s just stupid. most colleges make you write secondary essays in addition to the common or coalition app essay, and that doesn’t even factor in scholarship applications, interview prep, and keeping up with school on top of everything. the best thing you can do for yourself is pick around ten-ish schools that you’re actually serious about attending and skip the hassle. you will get into at least one college if you apply smart. trust me. the people i know who went ham with applications were miserable all the time (even the smartest ones) and most of them didn’t even get into their top choice schools. when you’re churning out 3+ essays every month, it follows that they’re not all gonna be winners. additionally, know that life will go on even if you don’t get into harvard. relax. you have an entire life ahead of you. even if it doesn’t work out exactly how you planned, good things take time, ya feel? 

you’re still valid even if you don’t participate in every “senior activity” possible. “but it’s your last pep rally!!” “you HAVE to go to prom!!” “let’s go to every football game this season!!”  no. just no. you’re really not gonna remember a lot of this stuff. if large crowds of ppl aren’t your thing, if you’re stressed or tired, if you don’t have the money (a lot of these “senior only” activities are EXPENSIVE expensive or at least they were at my school), or if you just have no interest in homecoming or whatever, IT’S FINE. you don’t have to justify this stuff to other people. i let ppl guilt trip me into doing a bunch of shit for our “last high school memories” or whatever and uhhh i didn’t always have a good time. for one thing, i’ve never had a shit ton of school spirit or whatever and two, being around crowds of ppl is pretty draining for me. the only “senior activity” i actually enjoyed was prom, but i knew ppl who skipped out on that and ya know what? i think they were ok. i never bought a yearbook. it’s fine. you should shape your senior year around what’s mentally/financially safe for you + and what you’re actually interested in, not what people expect you to do.

you don’t really have to do extracurricular activities this year, so don’t do anything you’re not truly passionate about. i stopped doing a lot of stuff like model un and science olympiad this year because i just wasn’t interested in them anymore. and i don’t regret it. to be blunt, you already have the lines on your resume filled by those activities if you’ve done them for a long time. so if you’re not feelin’ it, don’t waste your time. just do the things you wanna do. i did a lot of theater stuff last year and had a great time. it was super rewarding and i had a pretty good time with my castmates, and i was glad i had done that instead of more “academic” activities like scioly. 

it’s ok to be unsure about your plans for the future. for some reason, this is the year, every adult in your life is gonna be like, “wHaT’s Ur MaJoR???” and “wHaT jOb Do YoU wAnNa HaVe wHeN u GrOw uP??” as a result, you can start to feel a lot of pressure around having an answer prepared, and if you are on the fence about what you wanna do with your life, you can feel like other ppl have their shit together a lot more and that you’re aimless and stupid. trust me, you’re not, though. i personally think it’s unfair that we expect 18 y/os, who in many ways are still kids, to have their whole life planned out. a lot is still liable to change even after high school, and I think you’ll be remiss if you don’t allow your dreams and ambitions to change with it. if you’re truly unsure about your plans but you know you’re going to college, i’d recommend making sure none of the places you’re applying to are going to lock you down in a major when you set foot on campus. i have friends who are going to large universities who have already basically declared a major, which to me seems like an odd system. if 4-yr college isn’t in the cards for you for whatever reason, try taking a year off, getting a job, or community college. a lot of ppl i know look down on ccs, but to my knowledge, community college can be a great start to figuring out what you wanna do with your life. you have time. don’t rush it.

getting sick of your school friends is normal. it sounds mean, but in my experience, it’s true. i mean you’ve gone to school with these people for 4 or more years now, and you’ve changed a lot. and that doesn’t mean you don’t like them and wish them well, but there can be days where you’re like “omg pls stop talking to me rn!!” especially in that lull after application season. don’t be mean to anyone ofc, but realize that feeling exasperated with your peers is just part of the process, and you’re not a bad person for wanting a little bit of space. in my experience, unless the issue is w regards to toxicity or people being generally shitty, ppl will be able to connect w each other much more normally after school is over. 

you will get senioritis to some degree, but you have to push through it. it must be great to be one of those people who literally never stops working. but for the vast majority of us, some kind of senioritis will slap us in the ass after applications are done. you will have no motivation to do coursework but! remember that coursework needs to be completed! to be completely honest, once you’ve been accepted to college, you really only need to maintain a C average to not get rescinded, and i knew plenty of people who screwed around more than i did and they didn’t get their admission rescinded. but like, you don’t want to be one of those people who somehow fails a class because you don’t “feel like” doing the homework. you need to graduate, you need to hold onto your scholarship, and you need to maintain your accepted status. quite honestly, you need to kick ur own ass and make yourself work, whether that’s by turning down invites to hang out, or putting your phone in a different room. also, don’t be that person who’s playing iphone games in every class. your teachers will think you’re an asshole, and that’s really not the move. 

you don’t have to take everyone’s advice. this is the year everyone wants to be an expert on adulting, whether that’s your peers or parents’ colleagues or school counselors. in the end, your are the only one who can decide what’s right for you based on your financial situation and what you are comfortable with. i’m not saying “don’t take anyone’s advice”, because i truly believe there are some people out there who have the means to help you succeed. but i think you should pick and choose because you’re about to be fed a deluge of information that may or may not be useful or relevant to what you want to do. for example, people told me that i was limiting myself by not applying to any ivy league schools or very many competitive universities, or that i should lie about my race on my application (!!) because of the bias against ppl of asian descent in college admissions (note: i actually wrote about my heritage in my common app essay so it wasn’t like it was some secret lmao), which were uhhh not helpful. do what feels right and don’t feel the need to humor ppl who don’t have your best interests at heart. 

don’t compare yourself with other ppl. it’s natural to be a little jealous of peers who snag acceptances to prestigious colleges on full-tuition scholarships or land dream jobs/gap-year programs right out of high school. it’s a bit of an ugly feeling, but i’m not gonna sit here and say i didn’t wish i was one of those people at a point. that’s disingenuous in the extreme. it’s ok to be disappointed if everything doesn’t all work out, but at a certain point you need to accept what’s happening to you and make the very damn best of it. wallowing in self-pity just because your classmates are succeeding is just stupid. also, recognize that everyone’s ability to achieve their post-hs goals is wildly different based on their own circumstances. if you are less financially able to pay for college, for example, your opportunities are more limited than someone with a six-figure college fund. it’s quite frankly naive to assume that everyone shares your experience. be happy for people who do well. be happy for people who are proud of themselves. don’t try to take other people down because you’re feeling bitter. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again-other people’s success is not your failure. 

take time to do some much needed self care. senior year can be hectic, and it’s important to disengage from stressful situations. take a walk. watch a movie with your friends. take a long shower. don’t think you have to be “productive” all the time. you won’t be, and that’s ok. 

[langdvnshepherd]

Good For You (Duncan Shepherd x fem!reader)

Summary: You’re a broke ass college student whose one night stand with the infamous Duncan Shepherd leads to the development of a rather interesting relationship between the two of you. OR This is literally just the birth of sugar daddy!Duncan.

PART TWO ~ PART THREE

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: (pre??) sugar daddy!Duncan, fem! reader, plot heavy (sorry y’all I got carried away agAIN), mentions of alcohol, smut, fingering, daddy kink, choking, das it i think

A/N: Alright girls and gays someone asked for sugar daddy!Duncan and this probably isn’t exactly what they meant, but it’s what my two remaining brain cells could come up with. Also, this is the first time I’ve ever written smut so pls disregard and ignore if its bad lol. Honestly I’m not half mad at how it turned out plot wise, but that’s just meeee. I was going to split this in half, but I couldn’t find a good place to stop so I just left it as one. As always please lmk your thoughts I thrive off of feedback!

     School had been kicking your ass lately, which is how you’d wound up planted in a leather bar stool in the lounge of an upscale hotel. The hotel was always swarming with D.C.’s elite, one of which was bound to buy you a few drinks before inviting you up to their room before fucking you senseless. Hitting up the hotel for a quick fuck wasn’t something you did very often, only when you were particularly in need of some stress-relief. Sure, you could have went to the grimy pub down the block from your shitty apartment, but men your age never tickled your fancy. Plus, finessing rich, middle-aged white men out of their money was pretty entertaining. Today was definitely one of those days where you needed release, so you shimmied into your most expensive dress that you kept in the back of your closet and made your way downtown to the hotel.

     You scanned the room occasionally, hoping to find someone that would be worth your time. No one had caught your eye all night, which had you contemplating on throwing in the towel and jumping on the next train home. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. By this time, you were usually way past tipsy on another man’s dime while a mildly attractive, salt-and-pepper haired lobbyist would creep his hand up your thigh. All of the men in the lounge tonight were either preoccupied with kissing their dinner guest’s asses or far too old for your already mature taste. 

     Just as were about to ask the bartender to close your tab, he slid you another martini. Before you could even open your mouth to tell him you hadn’t ordered another drink, he signaled to the group of men with a tilt of his head. They were all in suits and from what you overheard from your seat, were loudly and disruptively chattering about some congressman’s most recent sex scandal. The one in question was already staring you down. He had honey brown hair that curled at the ends, delicious looking stubble, and the bluest eyes you had ever seen. He was noticeably younger than the men you usually encountered at the hotel, but his good looks and dominating demeanor made up for what his age lacked.

     Bingo. 

     You locked eyes with him for a moment before taking the glass in your hand and raising it to him. A smirk lingered on your lips as you held his gaze and took a sip from your glass. He watched you with a pleased yet strained expression, like he was holding back from throwing you on the counter top and taking you right there. Good. The man quickly tossed back the rest of the dark liquid in his glass before patting one of his buddies on the shoulder, presumably signaling his departure from the group. Making his way over to you, he called for the bartender to whip him up another drink. You shifted in your seat as he took the open space beside you as an invitation for his introduction.

     “You mind telling me how a beautiful woman such as yourself ends up at a hotel bar all alone on a Friday night?” He posed as he took the first swig from his new glass of whiskey. A cocky smile was painted on his face as he spoke.

     Deciding to test him, you retorted, “What makes you think something went wrong? What if I just really happen to enjoy hotel sushi and being suffocated by the testosterone of middle-aged republicans?” He snorted into his drink at your comment before responding.

     “For starters, I’d say you’re a liar. I’ve had the sushi before. It fucking sucks.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him whilst trying to suppress your laughter. At least he has a sense of humor.

     “What’s your name?” He asked as he sat his glass on the bar top and began tracing the rim with his finger.

     “Y/N. And you are?”

     “Duncan. Duncan Shepherd.” He proudly stated with a shit eating grin.

     “Well, Mr. Shepherd,” he shifted somewhat awkwardly in his seat at your use of his name. Maybe he didn’t like being called that? Or maybe he liked it a little too much. “What brings you here on a Friday night?”

     “The foundation that I’m in charge of held a conference in one of the ballrooms to discuss the app I’m developing.” You could tell he was proud of that one. As if you were supposed to know what the fuck that meant in any kind of capacity. “What do you do, Miss Y/N?”

     You hesitated before you answered. Not knowing whether or not to make up an elaborate story like you always did, you opted to mostly tell him the truth. You told him you were in school, and only hit up the bar every once in a while. Leaving out small details like the part about you only coming here to get dicked down by some grown man that was born with a trust fund. As you two conversed, you found yourself getting lost in the blue of his eyes, and the way his lips moved as he spoke. There was something about him that was encapsulating. The conversation flowed from one topic to another, and the two of you had breezed through numerous rounds of drinks before realizing most of the patrons had cleared out for the night and left the lounge nearly empty.

     Duncan chewed on his bottom lip as he sized you up for the millionth time that night and leaned over his seat to position his large hand over the part of your thigh that was exposed from where your dress had ridden up.

     Like fucking clockwork. It was almost comical the way every man you’d met at this hotel seemed to take the same course of action when pursuing you.  

     “You want to continue this conversation up in my room?” He seductively muttered into your ear as you felt his breath tickling your neck. Just as you’d expected. You knew exactly what was happening next.

     “Lead the way,” you replied as you slid your cell phone into your purse and shook the numbness from your legs. You really had been sitting there with him for quite some time. Let’s get this show on the fucking road.

     Guess the night wasn’t going to turn out so boring after all.

     As soon as the door to Duncan’s hotel room clicked shut, he had you pinned against the wall with a firm grip on your hips. You let out a shaky sigh as you suppressed a moan. The elevator ride up to his room had been hell. You could have cut the sexual tension in the air with a butter knife, and the old lady you had to share the elevator with did nothing to help the situation. You’d been pressing your thighs together since before you’d even left the bar with Duncan, aimlessly trying to ignore the wetness pooling in your panties. When the elevator doors slid open and the woman walked out in front of you two, you were practically stepping on the backs of Duncan’s heels as he led you to his room. 

     Duncan’s lips immediately collided with yours. He tasted like whiskey and the scent of his cologne was like something you knew you were too poor to even pronounce. Teeth clashing, noses rubbing against each other, tongues fighting for dominance as you both finally let yourselves go. It seemed like he was just as desperate for some action as you were, which only added to how fucking attractive he was. He gave your bottom lip a tug between his teeth before he latched his lips on to your neck. Your hands found purchase in his curls as he left hot, wet kisses from your jawline all the way down to the bottom of your collarbones. 

     Just as Duncan hit that sweet spot behind your ear with his tongue, your hips jutted forwards into him to gain some kind, any kind, of friction. As you moved, you felt the growing bulge in the front of his pants graze your core. He let out a deep, guttural moan and decided he was done taking his time. Before you could blink, he removed the vice grip he had on your hip bones and snaked his arms around your backside to grab a firm handful of your ass while simultaneously pushing the hem your dress up, exposing your panties to the cool air of the hotel room. You wrapped a leg around his waist, once again grinding against him as you reattached your lips to his. He was trying so hard to keep his cool, to not let you know that you were driving him fucking crazy. In his attempts, he slightly pushed you back against the wall and lifted your dress the rest of the way up over your head. Not caring where it landed, he tossed it behind him and prepared himself to fuck you into the mattress.

     “Jump.” Duncan mumbled against your lips. Bracing yourself, you pushed off the floor with the ball of your foot that wasn’t wrapped around his waist and he caught you by placing both of his hands on the undersides of your thighs. Duncan carefully made his way over to the bed whilst making sure he never broke the kiss. Lowering you down to just above the comforter, he loosened his grip on your thighs and let you fall the rest of the way down as he climbed on top of you.

     Taking in the scene of you underneath him, Duncan nearly came on the spot. Your hair splayed around in a halo on the pillow, lips swollen and glossy with his spit, eyes glazed over, purple bruises already forming in a line down your neck where had marked you with his teeth and tongue. He still didn’t have a clue why you were actually in the lounge earlier, your story seemed to have a couple holes in it but he didn’t care anymore. You looked like a fucking goddess and you were at his mercy.

     Slowly, his hand trailed down to your underwear and cupped your clothed cunt. He rubbed small circles over the wet spot that had soaked through with the ends of his fingers. “God,” Duncan quietly sighed to himself as he felt the dampness of your panties. All you could do was grind down on his palm and let out small breathy moans. He had barely touched you, and you were already a mess. He took one arm and hooked it around your waist so he could lift your hips from the bed and remove your underwear. Tossing them away from the bed to join your dress on the floor, he used his free hand to unclasp your bra. After making sure to give each of your bare breasts a few hard kneads with his palm, he then parted your thighs and was able to see just how wet you really were. It was kind of embarrassing.

     “You’re so fucking wet. Look at you. Soaking through your panties. And it’s all for me, yeah?” he asked. You swallowed hard at his words and simply nodded your head. It was becoming almost unbearable how badly you needed him inside of you. Finally, he brought his hand back to your core and ran his fingers through your folds, swirling your arousal around your pussy. Your eyes immediately rolled back into your head and you let out a low moan as he sunk his middle finger inside of you until he reached his knuckle. Fucking finally. He pumped his one finger in and out of you slowly at first, his other fingers softly brushed against your clit each time he filled you. After making sure you were absolutely dripping for him, he seamlessly added his ring finger into your cunt without straying from his initial rhythm. Your arm instinctively went to grip Duncan’s bicep at the feeling of being twice as full. He began to mercilessly scissor his fingers inside of you, with his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. You were surprised how quickly you were coming undone from this random man’s touch, but it wasn’t that surprising once you considered how turned on you’d been ever since you laid eyes on him. When Duncan started to curl his two fingers upwards into your cunt, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

     “Duncan, I think I’m gonna c-”

     With that, he immediately withdrew his fingers from inside of you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness. He took the opportunity of having free hands to finally begin undressing, all the while still kissing your swollen lips. 

     Growing tired of waiting, you figured you’d help him get out of his clothes. Once you tugged his under-shirt off over his arms, you reached for his belt buckle. His hands shot down to swat your hands away from their position, making it clear that he was the one in charge. You retracted your hands from his waist and laid them patiently at your side. When he removed his pants and slid off his boxers, his rock hard cock sprang from its restraints and was already leaking with precum. You couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful man before you that you absolutely knew for certain was going to have you screaming in a matter of minutes.

     “See something you like?” Duncan asked as he began taking back his place of hovering over your naked body. Such a fucking smart ass. You huffed out a sigh, watching him with hazy eyes, waiting for him to do something. Anything. As he made his way back up to meet your face, he took both of your hands into his large one and pinned them above your head. Looking you up and down once more, truly savoring the sight of you powerless and naked beneath him, he trailed his free hand down the valley of your breasts before reaching down to stroke his cock. Thank fucking god. The teasing was over.

     His expression softened momentarily, silently asking for the go-ahead from you. You responded with a quick nod, biting down hard on your bottom lip. He took his cock and agonizingly ran it through your slick folds before slowly inserting the tip into your cunt. As he inched his way inside of you, your mouth hung open in a small ‘o’ shape as your shallow breaths left your chest heaving and breasts bouncing softly. 

     When he had filled you to the hilt, he drew himself almost completely out before slamming back into you. The moan that came from deep within your chest was the most pornographic sound you had ever heard. Not being able to grasp at anything with your wrists pinned above your head, you were writhing underneath him as he set his pace. Soon enough, the room was filled with the sounds of your sweaty bodies snapping into each other and the huffs and grunts coming from both of you. After a particularly hard thrust that hit your g-spot, you let out a strangled, “Holy shit.”

     “You like that?” Duncan seemed to move faster at your words. All you could muster up in response was a short nod of your head. “I’m sorry, what was that? I asked you a question.”

     Closing your eyes and swallowing hard, you let out the shakiest, “Yes,” of your life. You certainly weren’t in the position to be speaking given the fact that Duncan was pile-driving his dick into your pussy without remorse.

     “Yes, what?” Oh. That’s what he wanted. It wasn’t surprising. Most of the big wigs you’d fucked in this very hotel were into the same kind of dirty talk, guess he wasn’t any different.

     “Yes, daddy.” You responded as seductively as you could, placing extra emphasis on the word you knew he was yearning to hear.

      Your words successfully triggered something within Duncan, because he abruptly grabbed the back your thigh and pressed it forwards into your shoulder so he could fuck you harder and deeper. His actions quickly flooded your stomach with a warm pooling sensation, and you felt the coil inside of you being pushed to its limit. “Fuck, I’m close.” you told him. He took it upon himself to speed up the process, dropping his head down to take one of your breasts into his mouth and running his tongue over your nipple. Your legs began to shake and your body was arching backwards so intensely that you thought your shoulders might pop out of place from where they were locked above your head by Duncan’s grip. Duncan himself began to falter as his head moved from your breast back into the crook of your neck, unable to pay attention to anything other than the way your cunt pulsed around his cock. You could feel his heavy breaths tickling the dip of your collarbones. He wasn’t going to last much longer either.

     “Let go of my arms,” you demanded, needing to be as close to him as you possibly could before you came undone. Based on how Duncan’s face shifted from one of absolute pleasure to something that resembled annoyance, you could tell he really didn’t want to. But he did it anyway, still keeping his ruthless pace of rocking into you. You immediately wrapped your arms around his chest and pulled him closer until he laid flush against you, raking your nails down his back. Duncan seemed to be caught off guard by your actions as he let out another deep groan.

     “Are you gonna cum inside me, daddy?” you egged him on as he placed one of his hands at the base of your throat to use as leverage while he moved even closer towards his release. You wrapped your hand around his and squeezed, forcing him to apply more pressure to your throat. Duncan’s eyes turned almost black at the sight of you blissed out from being choked by him.

     “Is that what you want? You want daddy to cum inside of you?” This time, you really couldn’t answer him with words. A nod of your head was going to have to be enough for him. The feeling of Duncan’s fingers closing in on your throat and his cock felt like it was damn near hitting your cervix was overbearing.

     It only took Duncan rubbing a few small circles against your clit for you to come crashing down around his cock. You let out something like a mix between a moan and a scream as your orgasm ripped through you. Duncan came immediately after you, the way your cunt convulsed around his cock sent him directly over the edge. You felt his cum paint your walls and seep out onto the inside of your thighs and drip down onto the comforter. 

     Duncan softened and removed himself from inside of you a he collapsed on the empty space next to you. You both stared at the ceiling as you caught your breath and regained your composure. It must have been some sight: both of you covered in beads of sweat, hair wet and matted against your forehead, limbs still shaking. Glancing over to look at the clock on the nightstand you realized how late it was.

     “Ah fuck. I’ve gotta go,” you said to yourself as you jumped out of bed and began feeling around the floor for your clothes.

     “Geez. Was it that bad?” he attempted to joke with you, not knowing what you were really talking about. He scratched at the back of his neck as he watched you redress.

     You let you a brief chuckle before answering him. “It’s not that. The last train for the night comes in 20 minutes. I’ve got to get to the station in time or else I won’t be able to make it home.”

     “Uhh, why are you taking the train?” he asked almost in disgust. You’d forgotten that the boy had probably never been inside of a public transportation station in his life given how much he bragged about his successful family business the whole night at the bar.

     “I pay for my tuition out-of-pocket and work at an over-priced coffee shop part time. Do you really think I can afford a $50 cab ride home when I have to eat instant ramen 4 times a week out of necessity?” You didn’t even mean to say it, but you did. It came out pretty condescending and you felt pretty bad considering this man had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life. Duncan didn’t say anything in response, just looked at you with a somewhat sympathetic look in his eyes. 

    As you pulled your dress back down over your thighs and slipped your feet back into your heels, you turned to face him for the last time and say your goodbyes. Leaving was always awkward, you never really knew what to say. Thanks for the dick? See ya later? Yeah, no thanks. You both stared at each other for a brief moment before you broke the silence. “Well, I’m gonna go.” You began to slowly creep towards the door.

     Duncan took in your body one last time before pressing his lips into a straight line and nodding. “Have fun catching the train. Be safe.”

     You decided he deserved a proper send off, so you smiled kindly at him before responding, “Yeah, I will. Good night, Duncan.” Turning on your heels, you walked out of his room and towards the elevator.

     Mission accomplished.

~

     A few weeks later, you were attending a university social with your fellow classmates. You weren’t really sure what the point of it was, to be honest. You heard that it was open bar, so you figured you could sit through however many boring sponsorship speeches if it meant you could get plastered for free while doing so. It took place at none other than the glorious hotel in which you had spent many restless evenings. You laughed to yourself as you walked through the revolving doors and into the lobby. If your classmates only knew how well-acquainted you really were with this place.

     You leaned against one of the table tops in the ballroom as you mindlessly chatted with your best friend and roommate about how boring the night was going to be, joking that it was going to take about 4 more drinks before you were ready to listen to old people drag on about how important higher education is for an entire evening. Just as you looked up to inspect the crowd, your eyes caught a pair of familiar icy blue ones. Propped against a table identical to yours, only on the opposite side of the room was Duncan fucking Shepherd. The same cocky grin appeared on his lips when he pinpointed the exact moment you realized who he was. Damn, he looked good.

     “Oh fuck.” you loudly whispered before craning your neck down to get him out of your line of vision. What the fuck was he even doing here anyway?

     “What?” asked your friend. Should you tell her? Or would she go off and run her big mouth if she knew? She’s practically your best friend, so you might as well let her in on it.

     “That guy...across from us at the table...in the turtleneck and jacket. I fucked him a couple weeks ago.” Not even bothering to be secretive about it, she whipped her head around to see Duncan for herself.

     “Well shit, he’s pretty hot. Do we have class with him or something?”

     “No, I just met him when I was out one night.” She knew of your taste for rich, mature men, so she put the pieces together quickly; only slightly confused by the fact that he wasn’t as old as your usual hookups.

     “Well, I hope it was good because he’s coming this way.” She gave you a pat on the back as she took his approach as her cue to leave you alone with him. Duncan didn’t face you as he spoke, he replicated your position of facing the crowd to keep his facial expressions hidden from you.

     “Y/N.” he greeted you as he placed his glass down on the table beside you.

     “Duncan,” you mimicked whilst also looking ahead of you, “What are you doing here?” You really wished he’d just go away. You didn’t want to have to deal with this awkward encounter.

     “Don’t you pay attention in class? The Shepherd Foundation is one of the top sponsors of your university. My mother is speaking here on our behalf tonight.”

     “Nice,” you huffed uncomfortably. Of-fucking-course they were. You had never casually ran into one of your one night stands before, so you were at a loss for words. Not to mention you had recently decided Duncan was officially the most attractive man you’d been with, so being in his presence again was sending sparks straight to your core.

     “Have you eaten yet?” he started.

     You chuckled once before answering. “What are you? My dad?” There you go again, talking out of your ass. You couldn’t see them, but his eyes darkened a shade as the words left your mouth.

     “Well, based on what I can recall from the other night, you didn’t seem to mind the idea of that. I actually think you loved it, even.” You tried to casually cross one leg in front of the other to clench your thigh together at his words, hoping to relieve the burning feeling in your cunt. “I asked, because I have a room here again tonight. I was thinking you could join me for dinner and we could spend some proper time together. I can pay for your cab home so you can stay longer.” You didn’t say anything as he shuffled around in his pockets and slid a white card across the table towards you. Looking down, you realized it was his room key. “I don’t need an answer right now. If you want to, I’m in room 721 when you make up your mind.” With that, he grabbed his drink and sauntered off into the sea of people.

     You spent the entirety of the evening too preoccupied with your encounter with Duncan to listen to anything the speakers had to say. His room key felt like it was made of lead where it sat in your clutch wallet. Sure, you would love nothing more than to feel him inside of you again. But was it a good idea? He offered to pay for your cab, which meant he must really want to fuck you again, too. Then again, a hefty cab fee to you was chump change to him. Maybe he just wanted someone quick and easy. Or maybe, he didn’t.

     At the end of the night, everyone began clearing out. It was time to make to choose. Go home to your bed, or go up to Duncan’s room. Your roommate approached you, asking if you wanted to carpool with some classmates or take the train home. Fiddling with the room key in your hand, you made the impulsive decision to tell her not to wait up for you, you’d find your own way home. You slid out the rear doors of the ballroom and made your way into the elevator, anxiously pressing the button that would lead you to Duncan.

~

     You woke up that next Friday with a fluttering feeling in your stomach. You were meeting up with Duncan for the third time tonight. The night you saw Duncan at your university social, he had coerced you into meeting up with him again. Apparently he loved your pussy just as much as you loved his cock. Which wasn’t any problem for you. The man really knows precisely which angles to hit that make you scream. Making your way to the kitchen for some breakfast, you were greeted by a few loud knocks at your door. “Coming!” you chimed.

     Whoever had knocked didn’t stick around for you to answer. You unlatched the chain lock only to be confronted by an empty door way. You almost closed the door back when something bright red on the ground caught your eye. It was a massive bouquet of roses placed next to a large white gift box. You scanned the hallway of your apartment building, looking for any clue as to who might have dropped off the package. Not wanting to let the freezing winter air into your apartment, you quickly grabbed the roses and accompanying box and sat them on your kitchen island.

     After inspecting the gift box, you decided it wasn’t a bomb or of any threat to you. You had no fucking clue who would be sending you flowers and gifts. If anyone, it had to be Duncan, but he didn’t even have your phone number let alone know where you lived. 

     You were snapped out of your state of thinking as your roommate entered the kitchen. “Jesus Christ, who in the fuck is sending you flowers this early in the morning?” Your face was beet red, it was time to explain. You told her about what happened the last time as well as your plans to see him tonight, which is what prompted the delivery in the first place. “Well, what’s in the box?” she asked.

     “Let’s find out,” you answered anxiously. Lifting the lid to the giftbox, you were first greeted by an envelope with a card inside. With shaky hands, you slid the card out and read what was written inside.

    Looking forward to seeing you tonight. I’ll send a car to pick you up at 8. Enjoy the gifts. Hope everything fits. And please, for the love of god, buy some real food and stop eating so much ramen. Stop taking the train, too. Ramen is terrible for you, and the metro is filled with creeps.

xx Duncan 

     Attached to the inside of the card was a check made out in your name for an ungodly amount of money that wouldn’t just cover your groceries, but more like your groceries + your whole month’s rent for several consecutive months.

     “Uhhh, what the fuck?!” Your roommate finally broke the silence as she peered over your shoulder to read the note and the amount written on the check. Yeah, ‘what the fuck’ was exactly right. Duncan never seemed that into you. As far as you were concerned, he was only into fucking you. Never anything more. Which is why you were so confused as to why he would do something like this.

     Inside of the box was a collection of some of the most expensive things you’d ever seen at one time. A baby pink, lacy Agent Provocateur lingerie set, nude Louboutin pumps, Cartier tear-drop shaped diamond earrings with a matching necklace, Chanel perfume. Again, what. the. fuck.

     “Wait, is this some kind of sugar baby shit?” your roommate questioned.

     “What are you talking about? That’s not what this is.” No, it obviously wasn’t. You two hadn’t spoken much about anything other than random topics on the night you first met. There was no way that that’s what these gifts insinuated. Duncan was not your sugar daddy and you were not his sugar baby. He’s so young, could he even technically be a sugar daddy if he wasn’t much older than 30?

     Your roommate continued. “Okay, well I’m gonna be honest it kinda seems like it. First, he made you call him daddy. That kinda says all you need to know right there. Second, he offered to pay for your cab ride home after he fucked you without you even asking? THEN, you wake up to thousands of dollars of lingerie and jewelry at your door along with a check big enough to pay for a full semester of school? All because you fucked him a couple times? I might be a dumb bitch, but I know some freaky shit when I see it. I think you’ve found yourself a sugar daddy, Y/N.”

     She was right. It did kind of make sense, but you needed to be sure. You weren’t going to accept his gifts or his money if there was some kind of gross catch to all of this. After talking to her a bit longer, you decided you’d meet with him tonight as planned and confront him about it. You needed some clarity. With that, you slipped away to your room with the gift box in tow to get ready for what the night might bring you.

~

     You resituated the waist tie of your coat as you stepped out of the fancy, black car Duncan had sent for you. Making your way into the same goddamn hotel that was beginning to feel like a second home, you pressed the ‘up’ arrow on the wall next to the elevator. Your mind was racing a mile a minute as you nervously twirled the diamond earrings Duncan had sent you this morning around your ear. If this was some kind of sugar daddy shit, would it be wrong to go along with it? Duncan seemed like a nice guy. Definitely still a rich, republican asshole, but he never seems like he means any harm. Would his conditions really be all that harsh? You’d have to blow him or do something extra kinky for him every now and then, and he’d hopefully keep those checks coming, right? That didn’t seem so bad to you at all. You could use some actual fruit and vegetables in your kitchen, and Duncan was right. The metro is definitely filled with creeps.

     Before you knew it, the elevator dinged, indicating you had reached Duncan’s floor. Your new heels clicked down the hallway as you stopped right in front of Duncan’s room. Once again fiddling with the room key he had left you, you were filled with nerves. You needed some answers and would hopefully get them without tainting the relationship between the two of you. The door unlocked with a click as you slid the card into the slot and pushed down on the handle.

     Duncan was perched in one of the arm chairs across from the bed with a glass in his hand. He perked up as he saw you slowly come out from the darkness of the entryway leading into the room. “You’re here.”

     “Yeah, I am.” you rocked back and forth on your heels as you wrapped your arms around your chest in attempt to sooth yourself.

     “I see you got my gifts. I’m assuming everything fit well?”

     “About that. I need to ask you a few questions about that.” You took a few steps closer to him and pressed your back against the dresser that was close to where he was sitting.

     “Did you not like them? You can take it back and get something else if you like.” He was acting as if this was a normal conversation between the two of you, and it made you kind of angry.

     “Duncan, stop. Cut the shit. What is all of this? First, you offer to pay for my ride home. Next, you’re inviting me over again and sending me thousands of dollars worth of gifts to my apartment. For Christ’s sake, how did you even get my address?”

     He didn’t respond at first, only looked you up and down with that look that you’d become quite familiar with. And it sent that same fuzzy feeling straight to your core. He stood from his seat and made his way over to stand directly in front of you. Placing his hands behind his back, he finally started talking.

     “Y/N,” he began. “My family is one of the most powerful and influential families in D.C. next to the president. I have my ways of finding out where you live, or anyone for that matter. But if you must know, it was easier to just get it from the university’s admissions office. Might I remind you that the Shepherds have quite the influence over there given how much money we donate to them each year. And about the gifts. If you really don’t want them, just return them. Keep the money. God knows you need it. But, they do suit you quite well if I must say so myself. I can’t wait to see what’s under your coat.” He spoke very calmly and matter-of-factly as he stuck his hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and further inspect the earrings and necklace he had picked out for you.

     “I just... don’t get it. What do you want from me? You wouldn’t do all of this if you didn’t want something out of it.” You asked him with shaky breaths. You couldn’t tell if you were nervous, scared, turned on, or all three.

     “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just show up when I ask. Mostly, I just need this from you,” he closed the space between the both of you and pressed himself against your front. Your noses were practically touching as he continued. “Let me know what you need, and I’ll take care of you. If you thought my gifts from this morning were too much, you should see what I’m really capable of giving you. I want to take care of you, if you're willing to do the same for me.”

     Breathing in his scent, you closed your eyes as you braced your arms on his shoulders. So many thoughts were running rampant in your mind. Your roommate was right. She always was. Duncan wanted to be your sugar daddy, and you were about to let him. You were worried that this would get you into some kind of trouble eventually, but you also didn’t give a fuck at the same time. There had always been something about him that was different. Different than all of the guys you had slept around with. You had tried ignoring it, but it was always in the back of your brain. He was being genuine, he wanted to take care of you. Maybe this was a bad idea, but who cares? Worst case scenario, things end badly with Duncan and you get a few months of free rent out of it.

     Finally embracing the situation for what it was, you pushed on Duncan’s shoulders where your hands were resting and walked him back to sit on the bed. You didn’t say anything, you just reached for the tie on your coat, untied the knot, and let the fabric pool at your feet. Duncan hissed at the sight of you in the lingerie he had sent you. The brassiere hugged your breasts in every possibly correct way, and the high waisted suspenders complimented your ass perfectly. You knew you looked good, and judging by the growing bulge in Duncan’s pants, so did he.

     You leaned forward while keeping your feet planted in front of him, resting your palms against his thighs and sticking your ass out. Your thumbs wrapped around his legs and dug in dangerously close to his cock, making sure to stare directly into his crystal blue eyes as you did so. His breath hitched in his throat the feeling. Just as he went to close the gap between you two and bring his lips to yours, you slowly lowered yourself onto your knees. Reaching for his belt buckle, he stopped your hands in their path just as he had done the first night you met. “What are you doing?” he asked through gritted teeth, clearly flustered.

     Taking a moment to reach up and press a few light kisses against Duncan’s jaw, your hands went back to unbuckling his belt with one hand and palming his throbbing cock through his pants with the other. His eyelashes fluttered at your touches, pleasure fully taking over him as he realized you were literally on your knees for him. You locked eyes with him from your crude position on the ground as you finally parted your lips to speak.

     “I’m gonna to take care of you. Is that alright, daddy?”

PART TWO ~ PART THREE

~

I know no one asked, but I’m gonna tag some ppl that I love that I think might mayyyyyy be interested in reading this?? Please tell me if I’m annoying you cuz I will cut the shit immediately lmao

@omg-hellgirl @langdonsoceaneyes @wroteclassicaly @ccodyfern @langdonsinferno @thedeviltohisangel

[max-is-tired]

With This Dream, I Inflate (Painted Skies In My Brain)

Pairing: Logince, Sleepxiety

Characters: Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy Sleep Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani (mentioned)

Words: 2.631

Warnings: Some homesickness at the beginning (not major, but it’s there), swearing, nothing else I can think of

Notes: I am incredibly late, but finally @adultmorelikeadolt ‘s birthday fic is done!!! Happy very belated birthday Rem!!!

I started this fic three weeks ago, fully convinced this was gonna be a short thing... I never learn, do I? Nonetheless, I’m proud of how it turned out, and I’m 99% sure this is getting a second part because I just fell in love with this AU

Thanks to my amazing beta @tigertigertigger  who makes sure the English language doesn’t kick my ass to the moon and back, you’re the absolute best

Hit me up if you want to be added to the taglist and let me know if you liked this, reblogs, comments and asks are always very welcome and much appreciated!

(P.s. Since Roman is Italian in this fic, translation for those few Italian expressions he uses can be found at the end of the fic!!)

Read on AO3!!   Buy me a Coffee!!

When his best friend wins a scholarship for a one-year exchange in Europe, Virgil doesn’t think much of it.

Logan is incredibly smart, without a doubt the most gifted student their college has to offer -and he’s double majoring in Astrophysics and Chemical Engineering, so that’s no small feat.

So yeah, he’s not surprised when Logan -who’s also his roommate, since they’re both broke, caffeine-addicted college students- gets home one evening, a strange envelope in his hands, and announces he has been given the so agonized scholarship. Virgil simply raises an eyebrow at the barely-concealed look of relief in the other’s eyes, mumbling a smug “I told you so” accompanied by the best shit-eating grin he can muster and finger guns.

Their third roommate, on the other hand, is a totally different story.

Patton basically throws himself at Logan, squealing in delight while rambling about how proud he is. He then insists on celebrating, and they end up having an impromptu movie night, complete with pizza and a batch of Patton’s infamous cookies -which end up in Logan’s stomach after not even an hour, for the hidden amusement of his two roommates.

After that, it’s a blur of finals to take, forms to fill and planning to get done -because it’s Logan we’re talking about, and Virgil’s pretty sure he’s already got at least half of his year abroad panned out.

Before they know it, the semester has come and gone and they’re standing in the middle of the airport, Patton bawling his eyes out on Logan’s shoulder while basically smothering him in a hug. Virgil limits himself to an amused smile, to which Logan answers with an exaggerated eye-roll -even him, always the logical, can’t really hide the fondness in his eyes as he tries to calm Patton enough to at least be able to breathe properly.

Logan’s parents watch from afar, letting the boys have their moment. Then, the intercom calls Logan’s flight, and it’s time for the very last goodbyes.

+++

It takes them a while to adjust.

Patton and Virgil, now being each other’s only roommates, work to find a new routine that doesn’t have a Logan-shaped hole in it -easier said than done, that’s for sure.

As for Logan, well, his first weeks are a jumble of moving in, unpacking boxes, visiting the campus to get accustomed with his new surroundings and figuring out his new schedule -not considering the quite influent change of time zone, which takes him a while to get used to.

But the three of them are nothing but determined, and it doesn’t take them long to figure out a somewhat solid schedule for video calls that doesn’t force any of them to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn or staying awake until some ungodly hour of the night.

With this system put in place, it’s certainly easier to deal with the distance. They’ve never been separated for so long, their trio having been an integral part of their life since middle school. It’s hard for all of them, even if Virgil often tries to brush it off and Logan downright does everything he can to ignore it.

It helps more than they like to admit, having somebody like Patton in their group. He barely conceals his feelings, openly expressing them and giving both Virgil and Logan a chance to talk about their own emotional conundrums without directly addressing them.

And so another year comes and goes, they’re juniors in college, Virgil has somehow gained a boyfriend who’s more caffeine-addicted than him, and Logan is finally, finally home.

Everything’s fine, right?

Not quite.

+++

“Look!” Virgil whispers, shaking the person sitting next to him, “he’s doing it again!”

Remy grumbles, raising his head from its place on the desk to glare at his boyfriend, “what is it now?”

“It’s Logan!” Virgil explains, gesturing to the boy sitting a few rows in front of them. Remy doesn’t get what all the fuss is, really. Logan looks pretty normal to him, sitting straight -the only straight thing about the guy, probably- as he seems to be diligently following the ongoing lecture. How does he even do it anyway? It’s just so boring, the teacher has been talking incessantly for more than an hour now and the only thing Remy wants to do is take a fucking nap-

“He’s using his phone-” Virgil keeps going, completely oblivious to his boyfriend’s wandering thoughts- “and he’s texting someone!”

Well, now that Virgil has pointed it out, Remy can see the corner of Logan’s phone peeking out from between his notes. Huh, that’s strange.

“Wait just a sec, how do you know he’s texting? I can barely see the phone as it is, let alone guess if he’s actually using it or not.”

“That’s because you’re exactly behind him, idiot,” Virgil grumbles, eyes still fixed on his best friend’s back, “he’s got an app open, I can’t tell which one exactly but it’s definitely for texting. I’ve known Logan since middle school and he’s never used his phone in class, not once. What the hell?”

“Chill, Vee,” Remy yawns, settling his head back on the desk, “ maybe he’s finally loosening up a little. It sure as hell looks like that year abroad was good for him, uh?”

Virgil mutters something unintelligible under his breath, clearly still displeased, but he knows he really can’t, in good conscience, dispute Remy’s claim.

Because it’s obvious that, while it can't be denied that the previous year has been a stressful time for all parts involved, the Logan who has come back is different from the Logan they said goodbye to, that day at the airport.

It’s not a bad change, per se.

He’s just- softer, around the edges. He looks calmer, more perceptive of the world around him. His temper seems to have subsided -for the joy of literally everyone, doesn’t matter what Patton says- and he’s obviously much more patient.

He looks… content, Virgil thinks that’s the word he’s looking for. And that’s a good thing, don’t get him wrong! But no one can deny that Logan has changed, and change isn’t exactly something Virgil works well with.

It scares him because Logan has been a constant in Virgil’s life for almost as long as he can remember and now he’s different, somehow.

But he also looks happy, so Virgil just deals with his anxious discomfort, because he sure as hell won’t be the one taking that away from Logan.

He just wishes his best friend would tell him what the hell is going on.

+++

When they’re finally let out of the lecture -for the immense joy of Remy, who had immediately dashed out of his seat and yelled “Starbucks time, bitches!!” before bolting out of the door- Logan is obviously still in whatever conversation he has been keeping up for most of the class, checking his phone every few minutes.

The two of them are standing near some benches across from the science building, waiting for Patton to get out of his last class. It’s the perfect opportunity to ask Logan who exactly he’s talking to, but alas, anxiety is a bitch and it very much likes to make Virgil’s life a living hell.

So Virgil resigns himself to standing in silence beside his friend, wallowing in his curiosity as he begrudgingly watches Logan text the mysterious person with a strange smile on his face -which only makes Virgil more curious because he’s never seen Logan smile like that before, damn it, and he just wants to understand what the fuck is going on.

“V, Lolo!” Patton’s voice startles them both out of their thoughts, giving Virgil half of a heart attack and making Logan almost drop his phone.

“Hey, Popstar.” “Salutations, Patton.”

“Sorry, I’m late,” Patton giggles, quickly approaching the two, “Dr. Picani got us so invested in today’s lecture, we all forgot to check the time!”

“Lucky you,” Remy grins, coming up behind Virgil and draping an arm over his shoulders, “our lecture was so boring I slept through most of it.”

Virgil -who really doesn’t like getting startled every five minutes, thank you very much- turns around and punches his boyfriend’s arm, glaring.

“Ouch!” Remy yelps, fumbling with his coffee, “What was that for?!”

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before sneaking up on me like that, asshole,” he grumbles, “also, you always sleep through our lectures.”

Cue the Offended Gay Noises™, completed by Remy dramatically draping himself over his boyfriend. “The slander! The Betrayal!”

“Stop being a drama queen, you know I’m right. And get off of me!”

Patton watches the two bicker with a smile on his face, far too used to their antics to be worried.

“Ah, young love,” he sighs dreamily, “they’re just too cute, right Lo?”

Logan, however, seems to be completely unaware of what is happening. He’s frowning at his phone as if it has somehow offended him, typing message after message at an alarming speed.

“Logan?” Patton calls, trying to catch the other’s attention, “you okay?”

“What?” Logan startles, his head shooting up in confusion, “oh, my apologies Patton, I was not paying attention.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Patton chuckles, “is everything alright? I’ve never seen you use your phone so much, and you looked quite troubled back there.”

“Ah, no-” another chime from his phone makes Logan pause, groaning in clear frustration as he quickly answers yet another message.

“Apologies for worrying you, Patton-” he finally says pocketing his phone and pointedly ignoring its continuous chiming- “but I assure you, there is nothing to worry about. I’m just dealing with a rather obnoxious person who apparently enjoys making me lose what little patience I have.”

Patton cocks his head on one side, looking deep in thought before an all-too-familiar smirk slowly starts spreading on his face.

“Don’t you mean-” he says, barely keeping his laugh at bay- “that your patience is-”

“Patton Morgan Hart don’t you dare finish that sentence or so help me-”

“-infinitesimal?”

Logan lets out a loud groan of despair, Patton becoming a giggling mess beside him.

“You will never let this go, will you?” he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Nope!” Patton grins.

“Are we making fun of Logan?” Virgil pipes up, “because I want in on that.”

“Can we change the subject? Please?”

“Don’t worry gurl, I gotchu,” Remy grins, eyes glinting behind his dark shades, “because I just remembered what I came back for, and this is a juicy one guys.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently we got a new entry from the exchange program and let me tell you, the guy is hot. He’s very good looking, smooth as fuck and I’m like, 90% sure he’s ripped or something. Like, totally illegal, I swear.”

Beside him, Virgil visibly stiffens, arm tightening around the others side, “and you know that because…?”

Remy huffs out a laugh at that, visibly amused by his boyfriend’s sudden jealousy.

“Relax babe-” he basically purrs, kissing his cheek- “you’re the only one I want. I just saw him in front of the main building earlier, he was very difficult to miss. Almost the whole campus was ogling him some way or another. I think he was actually searching for someone, I didn’t pay much attention.”

Logan looks at Remy with a thoughtful expression, clearly pondering something in his head.

“Out of curiosity,” he finally asks, choosing his words carefully, “could you describe this new exchange student?”

“Why, you interested?” Remy grins, wiggling his eyebrows, “careful Logan, your gay is showing.”

“Remy,” Logan growls -actually growls, what the fuck gurl- in annoyance, glaring daggers at him.

“Okay, okay!” Remy relents, raising his hands in surrender, “sheesh gurl, no need to get so worked up!”

He then taps his chin, thinking about his earlier encounter, “he’s on the tall side, wide shoulders, pretty sure he’s a theatre kid because he really looks like one. Brown hair, green eyes, I think he may be either Spanish or Italian? I don’t know, he had somewhat of an accent but I was too far away to be sure.”

“Thank god you  didn’t pay much attention, uh?” Virgil mutters, rolling his eyes. Remy snorts, shoving him lightly.

Too busy with their playful teasing, the couple doesn’t notice the way Logan has suddenly stiffened, eyes wide as his mind seems to have suddenly screeched to a halt. It, however, doesn’t go unnoticed by Patton, who gives him a concerned look.

“Lo, are you alri-”

“Aha! Ti ho trovato finalmente!”

Four heads snap up in unison, turning towards the new voice. Standing a few feet away, the infamous new exchange student shoots them a grin, hands on his hips and green eyes trained on their group.

“Niente ‘ciao’? Did I finally manage to leave you speechless, nerd?”

Logan lets out something akin to a squeak -which he’ll forever deny having made- cheeks blazing red as he scrambles to regain his composure.

“R- Roman? What- what are you doing here?!”

Roman lets out a laugh, approaching the group until he’s standing right in front of Logan -the others seem to be too dumbfounded to react, one, because wasn’t kidding when he said the guy was hot, damn, and two, because they’ve never seen Logan so flustered before and honestly they’re more than a little confused right now.

“I may or may not have made a request for a semester abroad like, a week before you had to fly back? I got everything confirmed and ready to go just a month or so ago, so I decided to surprise you,” he shrugs, looking somewhat unsure, “so, uh, sorpresa?”

Logan blinks owlishly at him, clearly still trying to make sense to the situation. Then, he lets out a groan, hiding his bright red face behind his hands.

“You’re a pain in the ass and I hate you, stronzo.”

Roman laughs, shoulders slumping in relief, “God, how much I missed you.”

Then, under the three’s identical stunned gazes, he grabs Logan -who lets out a startled yelp- and dips him with a flourish, before winking and kissing him square on the lips.

Logan, who until that very moment had been as stiff as a wooden board, immediately melts in Roman’s arms, hands moving to gently cup the other’s face as he starts eagerly kissing back.

Snapping out of his stupor, Remy lets out a loud whoop, joined by Virgil’s sputtering and a very flustered Patton.

“Hello there, luce dei miei occhi,” Roman murmurs when the finally separate, smiling widely as Logan looks at him through half-lidded eyes.

Huffing in mock annoyance, Logan rolls his eyes and wiggles out of his arms, pointedly ignoring his still burning cheeks.

“Stop being so mushy,” he grumbles, fixing his tie.

Roman grins at that, looping an arm around Logan’s side, “Please sweetheart, we both know you love it when I'm mushy.”

“Okay okay okay, what the everloving fuck is going on here?!” Virgil suddenly screeches, breaking the little bubble that had formed around the two in a million pieces.

Finally recalling that his friends are, in fact, present and have probably seen the whole scene, Logan suddenly looks like a deer caught in the headlights, blush coming back full force as he takes in Remy’s shit-eating grin, Virgil scandalized expression and Patton flustered face.

Seemingly unfazed by the whole scenario, Roman presses their bodies together and gives the three a dazzling grin, green eyes twinkling in barely hidden amusement.

“Ciao a tutti! My name’s Roman, I’m a theatre major and I’m also Logan’s very handsome Italian boyfriend!”

“You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell us?!”

Logan groans, hiding his face in Roman’s chest as his asshole of a boyfriend lets out a boisterous laugh.

Ooh boy, this is going to take a while.

+++

Translations:

“Ti ho trovato finalmente!” => “I found you at last!”

“Niente ‘ciao’?” => “No ‘hello’?”

“Sorpresa?” => “Surprise?”

“Stronzo” => Italian insult, I honestly can’t think of an accurate translation :’)

“Luce dei miei occhi” => “Light of my eyes”

“Ciao a tutti!” => “Hello everyone!”

[logancreatesworlds]

Intimate Scars (Pt.1) - T’Challa x Black!Reader

(A/N: Hello everyone!  Sorry I’ve been AWOL for essentially the last month-and-a-half, but your girl has been busting her ass in college.  Exams are coming up and I lowkey want to crawl into a hole.  But I didn’t and I’m here with you all, my lovely Tumblrinas©!  Anyway, this dope-ass request is from another lovely anon.  This one let me be a bit more romantic so thank you!  Anyhow, enjoy!)

Request:

Warning:  References to body negativity and parental death, both of which I know from personal experience can be damaging to anybody.

Disclaimer:  None of the images belong to me and either come from WeHeartIt, Glamour.com or this website.

"Nkosazana.”

You looked up when you heard the familiar voice.  Malika, your young but bright intern, stood at the door.  She was the only one who was allowed to enter without approval.

“Yes?” You asked, your serious expression omnipresent.  “An invitation,” she said, holding up a piece of paper.  Even though you were a few feet away at your desk, you could still spot the gold and black decoration on the stationery.  “Another one?” You asked, exasperated.  “He is the king, nkosazana,” Malika reasoned with a shrug, “Did you think he would take not for an answer?”  You sighed, knowing she was right.

Still, you waved your hand away, dismissing the proposal.  “Seriously?” Malika huffed, “You cannot say no forever.”  “I can say no this time,” You responded sourly, “This is the fifth time the king of our nation has invited me to his annual royal ball, as is the fifth time I’ve denied his persistent requests.  He probably has one of his maidens write those things anyway.  Once again, I have said no.  He’ll get the message.”

Malika sighed, “Very well.  If you wish to trifle with the Black Panther, I will not be here when he comes to hunt you like a baby gazelle.”

“Bah!” You guffawed in outburst, “You actually think he is that worried about me coming to his little party?  How do you get into the Wakandan School of Alternative Studies with that kind of thinking?”  

“W.S.A.S is for those who believe in possibilities, miss,” Malika responded, a smirk lighting up her cocoa brown skin, “It is a possibility that the king will grow interested in you.”

“Please,” you snuffed dismissively, “The day that such happens, I will bump your raise by eighty Wakandan dollars, bow down and call you mistress of all in existence.”

“Can’t wait for my raise then,” Malika replied before closing the door and leaving you back you your work. 

Malika sighed from her own mini desk as she worked through yet another shadow physics practice problem.  Shadow Physics was nothing difficult, as it had been a core part of curriculum in Wakandan education ever since King T’Chaka invented it at age 26.  But, Malika was not a math person, and the shadow physics problems that she needed to know for her test in a week were doing little more than annoying her.  Sighing, she pushed another piece of fruit into her mouth, hoping the natural sugars would keep her motivated.

“Miss,” a deep male voice asked, “Is Miss (Y/N) here.  I wish to speak with her.”  “I am sorry sir but you will have to make an app-”  Malika’s words caught in her throat and her eyes widened when she saw who was standing at her front desk.

King T’Challa, the Black Panther, stood there at her desk decked out in his full garb.  His two infamous Dora Milaje, Ayo and Okoye, flanked his sides.  “I hope I am not intruding on your studying,” T’Challa said with a knowing smirk.  “Uh,,,uh...n-no your majesty,” Malika said with nervous laughter, “Please, I will take you right to her.”

“I do not understand why you refuse to collaborate, (Y/N),” Abana said with obviously fake dismay.  Abana, better known as Abana Numiskini, had been Wakanda’s most prominent fashion designer before you showed up.  Once your new fashions hit the market, you went from small time artist to nationwide fashion mogul. Abana had been “out” by the time you had come “in.”  Even so, Abana was a snake - always looking to work with you and mooch off your success. 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you gave the false sadness right back to her, “Oh Abana, umhlobo wam, you know I’d love to but I simply have to...take my cat to the medic’s.  She is sick, again.”  

Then, as if sent by Bast, Malika opened the door.  “My lady, we-”

“Malika, I am on an important call.  What is so important?” You asked, trying not to sound grateful for her interruption.

“My lady,” she forced out, “We have a guest.”  Three regal figures walked up behind her and your eyes almost flew out of your skull.  

“Apologies, is this a bad time?” King T’Challa asked, his pooling brown eyes swirling with concern.  “Uh...,” you sounded, pushing a button and abruptly ending your conference call with Abana, “No, my king.  Please, come in and have a seat.  Malika, would get out guests some refreshments?”  

Malika wordlessly nodded, almost stumbling out of the room as she stared at King T’Challa, before closing the door and leaving you alone with the ruler of the whole nation.  “I appreciate you holding an audience with me on such short notice.  The matter I have come to discuss with you is not so essential to the well being of Wakanda, though I confess - you are integral to its existence.”

“Please, wam kumkani, speak as freely as you would like.”

“Very well,” King T’Challa asked, “As you know, we have the Wakandan Summer Ball right before the warmest months of the year hit.  Yet, you have denied your invitation on all accounts of my inviting you.  May I ask why?”

Having being stunned, you took a second to collect your thoughts.  “Well...I am a very busy woman.  My job does not rest even if I have one night to wear a pretty dress and dance with a handsome king.”  T’Challa smiled, “I can understand that.  Forgive me for being so forward.  It’s just that you are so interesting, and...I wanted to get to know you better.”  “Aw my king, that is so kind of you. But-”  “My lady,” Malika said boisterously as she opened the door, carrying a tray of fruits and cups of water, “I have the refreshments!”

“Ah Malika, thank you so much,  I was just about to tell King T’Challa about how I couldn’t make it to his party because I’m about launch my new summer line.  I have to send the designs over to dressmakers.”

“Oh that?” Malika asked with a growing smile, “Oh my queen, I did that for you already.”  

Your eyes widened slightly as you thought up something else, “Oh...well I also must call the jewelers and make orders for some sample pieces.  The models need jewelry to wear with my designs for the nest fashion show in a couple weeks.”  

“That?  My lady, I took care of that too.”

Your eyes narrowed, and in order to save face, you forced a smile to match Malika’s devious one. 

“I have to clean my yard.”

“I called the gardener’s.  He’s on his way to your house now.”

“I must feed my cat also.”

“I am sure you can do that once you actually buy him from the pet store.”

Your eyes narrowed more and you practically had to will yourself from strangling your assistant.

“If my party is too inconvenient for you,” King T’Challa spoke, a disappointed tinge to his dulcet voice, “Then I can come back later.”  

“No,” you spoke, your tone direct, “I would love to come to the Wakandan Summer Ball.”

T’Challa’s lips stretched into a large grin, “Great.  I hope to see you there.  Please, let me know if you would like me to send transportation to pick you up.  My contact information is-”

“On the letter,” You answered, mentally kicking yourself for having Malika dispose of the valuable piece of stationery.

“Lucky I held onto it so that you would not loose it,” Malika said, pulling the familiar invitation from her magenta dashiki.

“Excellent,” King T’Challa said jovially, as he and his Doras got up.  Taking your hand gently, he kissed it, “I cannot wait to have you there.”

A second later, the King and his Dora Milaje were gone, leaving you and Malika alone.

“...You were banking on this the whole time weren’t you?”

“Yup,” Malika responded triumphantly, “Now let’s get you a dress for the ball.”

Translations:

Language: Xhosa

“Nkosazana” -  address a miss (young women) in a formal work situation

“umhlobo wam” - “my friend”

“wam kumkani” - “my king”

(A/N: Aaaand that is Part 1 for Intimate Scars folks!  Part 2 is coming right behind this one.  I just wanted to make this imagine last a little longer.  Please enjoy, like and comment.  See you on the web!)

[0ompa-loompa]

Assignments, final projects, try-outs, mock weeks, finals, college applications, these are what senior year is made of. Naturally, it’s the period of time when you most feel the urge to jump off a cliff. From the first week of school, I could already see the differences senior year brought to my school mates. People were starting to realize that they had to receive great marks, they had to get accepted into good colleges, they had to do this and that as ways to an accomplished future.

Over the years of being a high school student, every time there was a free period, or just any studying-free moment at school, we would watch movies, gossip, or simply be on our phones for hours. Now in every free periods, my classmates would take out these heavy-ass books that can be used comfortably as pillows and actually study. Or re-write their notes. Or revise a subject for next week’s quiz. Anything to keep them working (just curious, do these symptoms apply to all senior year students around the world?).

Since junior year were pretty traumatizing for me (thanks to student government), I had been planning all holiday to give my 110% for senior year. Long story short, I hit it off since day 1 and came out alive six months later. Although it resulted in me spending 3 days sleeping in after end-of-term exams were over, I’m really happy for having been very productive this entire term. I know there’s still 6 months left and the worst parts are yet to come, so I decided to share a few tips exclusively coming from someone *glares at myself* who did remarkably awful the previous year and somehow found a way to crawl back from death

1.       Know Where You’re Going

Getting to the very last year of high school, this is the MOST important part of surviving. Without having your long-term goal, it would be like taking down hundreds of obstacles without having a destination in mind. You don’t know where you’re going, but more monsters keep showing up on your path. Trust me, you’ll eventually get tired and stop trying midway. Losing motivation when you’re in the most vital part of your study can’t be a good thing.

Do research on the degrees you’re interested in taking, from their passing grades to job prospects. Make sure you actually enjoy the subjects needed for those degrees. For example, if you can’t stand Biology, better if you don’t consider attending medical school, and the same goes to other subjects as well.

2.       Maintain Productivity

The amount of school work you’re getting can be overwhelming, that is why you have to do them as soon as possible to prevent them from piling up. You don’t have to finish them all in one day, it’s impossible and careless. At least try to do them bits by bits until the night before due when you can go over what you’ve done and fix a few imperfections or cross-check your answers. Try doing this to multiple assignments instead of focusing on one or two assignments the entire week.

I usually bring unfinished assignments to school so I can get to work when I have free time, usually before after-school extras, or while waiting for an extra course. This way instead of going on Tumblr for hours, I’ll be figuring out math problems and (hopefully) have the homework done by ½ when the course starts.

3.       Gather Motivation

Take a look at that magnificent building, I will build tens of those once I become an architect. Have you seen the latest VSxBalmain collection? I’ll someday be working alongside Olivier Rousting .

It’s very important to keep being productive and use every free time wisely. While you’re at it, make sure to keep your motivate-o-meter at high level. Motivation and inspiration can come from anyone, anywhere and it doesn’t even have to come from anything relevant to your life goals. I usually get a boost of motivation after watching a couple videos of my favorite Youtubers (which has no correlation whatsoever to being an engineer), and I recently  got a huge inspo from reading Crazy Rich Asians. It seriously motivated me to work my ass off and be rich.

4.       Don’t Stop ‘til You’re Proud

Catch up on things you don’t fully understand. If you had a problem with certain subjects or materials, find the answers right away, don’t wait until the day before quizzes or mock tests when you will desperately need answers. Ask teachers, your friends, or our most trusty friend the internet. You can also download several applications to help you study, like Khan Academy and other similar apps. Once you put one problem out of sight, it will become easier for you to put more aside . This is what happened to me last year, I had problems understanding Chem but I refused to actually figure them out, thinking I would learn the materials later. 10 laters later, I got a 7 for end-of-semester test while my classmates received 9s and 8s.

So you have studied for this particular test and still got a bad mark. Shit happens honey, tough it up. Even while I’m writing this, I fully understand that the theory of ‘picking-yourself-up’ is much easier said than done. Give yourself some time to breathe, and start with “okay, where did I go wrong?”. Figure out the errors to make sure you’re not doing them the second time. Consider it this way: the subject has betrayed you and you’re getting a revenge. I planted this idea the very first day of senior year, the thought has driven me to never quit trying. It’s almost like Elle Woods to Warner, but instead it’s me and Physics.

5.       Get A Rest.

Senior year doesn’t mean you lose all hope of going on shopping sprees, watching the latest movies, or taking care of your Tumblr blog. If anything, I’ve watched more movies with my friends this year than I did previous years, simply because we have little time to relax so we made the most of one when we had the chance to. As long as you keep track on your to-do-list, stay discipline on your schedule, a little catch up on KUWTK won’t hurt.

Don’t push yourself to the point of falling down. Read books, paint, dance, even play games (Mobile Legend is the hype these days it’s getting annoying), anything to keep you sane and motivated. Never let the pressure of GPAs and prestigious colleges take positivity away from you.

6.       Don’t Over-Rest.

Yes, hun, I was just telling you to enjoy your senior year and now I’m telling you to not over-relax your way. Maintain a schedule, make agreements with yourself and stick to it. “At 8pm I will start on Math homework, and the rest is for tomorrow”. “I will work my butts off from 8 to 10 am then I can go on Tumblr”. “I will start on my History papers and take a rest after 2 pages”.

I’m not telling you to work 24/7 because that’s not healthy, I’m ALSO not telling you to spend all your weekend in bed and procrastinate because it would defeat the whole purpose of learning to be productive. Once you let yourself procrastinate, It’ll be easier for you to do it for the second, third, and fourth time.  Sometimes you just need to gather your will, get up and face those text books.

Well, there you go. These are all the things I have been doing to not only survive, but to do well in high school. I have been doing all these tips religiously for the past 6 months, it’s almost impossible not to feel tired or even want to just cut it off. But studying routinely makes me feel in control of what’s happening currently, what’s going to happen next, what I want to be doing in the future. So get up and let’s kick asses together.

[this-is-big-lady]

Swipe Right part 6/10

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, can be found on AO3 here

Hey all! Full time work has been kicking my ass, so this took longer than I would’ve liked, but it’s here now! Also, this is my first time writing a Jewish character talking about their Judaism - please, if I have anything wrong, flick me a polite message or direct me in the way of resources and I will be ever grateful for your kindness. 

After passing texts backwards and forwards between him and Jack, Davey found himself at Jack’s apartment in the afternoon of a day not too long after their coffee date. He was ready for his portrait to be drawn, perched on a small stool a couple of arm lengths in front of Jack, who had a little table set up in front of him. The flat surface on top was angled down towards him with a piece of A3 paper laid out, and a collection of pencils, sharpeners, and erasers in his lap. Jack’s phone was propped up on a small shelf behind him. He explained to Davey that he’d record the session so that if he missed anything important, he could go back to it later to draw inspiration from the recording. Jack asked his subject to angle himself slightly to his left on the stool and to relax - Davey was picking at his fingernails, and if he was as tense as he looked, Jack would have a hard time getting information out of him.

Soon the silence between the pair was filled with a gentle scratching sound from the pencil on the paper, and Davey looked around Jack’s apartment. It wasn’t huge, but it was cozy - a typical student place. They were currently in the living room, Jack sitting on a couch with a few stains and rips, and Davey’s stool was purloined from his roommate’s bedroom. Did he really say that his roommate’s name was Spot? Surely Davey wasn’t hearing him correctly. There was a window to his left where the afternoon sun was streaming in, and the curtains appeared a little worse for wear. The shelf behind the couch with Jack’s phone had a few political science textbooks - presumably Spot’s - and the walls were dotted with various drawings and paintings - presumably Jack’s.

Jack could see Davey’s eyes gliding around the room, and while Jack was trying to get a rough outline of Davey and his features, it was a little distracting. So he tried to get him to settle down the only way he knew how, talking.

“So, Davey…” The boy was snapped out of his observations by Jack’s voice, replying with a soft ‘hmm’ sound to show that he was somewhat paying attention. “I’ll ask you what I ask all my subjects. Why’d you join tinder?”

Davey balked a little at the question, slightly surprised at exactly how forward Jack was with it. He rubbed a hand across his face to hide how awkward he was feeling from the artist currently studying his facial features. “I mean, I guess there were a few reasons, if you want a list?”

“Sure,” Jack said flippantly, frustrating Davey slightly with exactly how nonchalant he was with this whole situation. “Well, I guess I was relatively lucky because I have a pretty accepting family, but we’re also Jewish, so there was a bit of a conflict between the Jewish and gay elements of my identity-“

“Lets start there. If your family was accepting, where exactly did that conflict come from?

“We’re Reform Jews, so my family and community didn’t have a problem with me liking boys - my synagogue back home even has a lesbian rabbi - but it’s not uncommon to see people in the media twisting and interpreting holy text to support homophobia.” Davey carded a hand through his hair, tugging at it a little harder than he normally would. Why did he have to start with the topic that hit closest to home? He glanced over at Jack, who had his head down sketching furiously, or maybe he was writing words? All he could do was take a deep breath, drop his hand back into this lap, and carry on.

“And I guess being shown those perspectives every day through social media took a toll, and I probably internalised some of it along the line. That I, to some extent, expect people to do that. And even though I had an amazing support system, knowing that other people out there could use something really important to me as a way to devalue me can really hurt.” Jack’s pencil stopped skidding across the paper, and he looked up to face Davey. His eyes were honest, he was actually listening to what Davey had to say, and he could feel the breath catch in his throat at the end of his sentence.

“But as I got older I saw that my Judaism and being gay didn’t have to be seperate parts of me, they could totally interact - I’m pretty happy to say that I’m a gay Jew now. So I guess by using a dating app, I hoped I wouldn’t be interacting with people trying to pit the two against each other. I mean, I’m yet to meet any antisemitic people on tinder, but you’re also the first person I’ve met on it, so I’m one for one so far.”

Jack let out a little huff of laughter, putting down his pencil, and leaning over his table a little as he made eye contact with Davey. “That’s very true, and thank you for being so honest with me.” Jack’s easy smile was infectious, making Davey’s nerves settle down and allowing a small grin to spread across Davey’s face. “You said you had a whole list, hit me with something else.”

The pencil Jack was holding was being chewed on by its owner as Davey racked his mind for some of the other reasons. “I’m quite introverted, you know? And I guess I never really felt comfortable dating back home. Like I knew almost everyone my age in my area because we went to school together and the idea of dating someone in that tight-knit community just made me… nervous, I suppose. As did approaching someone I didn’t know, kind of a catch-22 I guess.” Jack chuckled softly at Davey’s involuntary shiver as he talked about his discomfort. It was pretty cute, if Jack was to be honest. “So I would rather be able to chat with new people with some slight veil of anonymity and see if I’d actually like to talk with them in person. Being able to connect with people from the comfort of my phone before actually meeting them makes me far more content with the idea of dating. Just… talking to people is scary.”

Davey ducked his head a little, staring at his hands in his lap. He knew it was silly: here he was, talking to a guy he met of tinder about why he was scared to talk to guys. He found the dirt buried under his fingernail very fascinating to pick at until Jack brought him back to his attention with a gentle repetition of his name. “I totally get it, Davey. Why do you think I ask people to sit for these drawings on the internet, rather than approaching people on the street? It’s easier, I understand. You ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of with me.” A small smile spread across Davey’s face, which eased Jack’s mind in knowing that he was being of some sort of help to his subject. And gave him enough courage to ask a niggling question at the back of his mind. “So then why did you choose to meet up with me, Davey?”

Davey’s eyes locked with his, and muttered a barely audible sentence that caused Jack’s heart to start hammering: “I just knew I had to meet you.”

A few moments of silence passed as both boys processed the implications of that sentence. Was it some of of simple attraction, love-at-first-sight kind of phenomenon? Or could there have been a more heavy spark between the two, an intangible sense of feeling what was to come, and the resultant revelation in hindsight? Neither party could say. But they enjoyed toying with the possibilities.

Davey had had enough time in the spotlight, it was his turn to spin this onto the artist. “So Jack,” he began, “why did you join Tinder?”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at Davey’s change in tact, he was too smart to just let this whole session be about him. But Jack still needed to get a sketch done, so he gave Davey the abridged version. “Well, I’m bisexual, and I liked Tinder because it meant I could put it flat out in my profile and didn’t have to deal with coming out to people. And it meant I could see both men and women together, it just made life easier.” Jack’s gaze drifted down from Davey’s actual face in front of him to the sketch of Davey’s face lying on the table, meaning he missed Davey’s excited smile at hearing Jack was definitely into guys. Jack shrugged as he continued, “And I mean it’s good for casual sex, but I’ve met some pretty cool people on there too… Some that I hope that I could consider a friend.” Jack knew that already thinking of Davey as someone that he could get close to after only a few days was dangerous, but  he didn’t really mind. There was something about Davey being reserved but so willing to be open with him that pulled Jack in, and he wanted to know more about the guy whose profile made him genuinely intrigued about the person behind it.

Quickly leaning towards Jack, Davey simply answered Jack’s sentence with, “Me too, Jack. Me too.”

The pair fell into silence as Jack finished off the portrait of Davey, but they asked questions of the other when they popped into their heads. As it turned out, Davey hadn’t been to a service since moving to college - he’d yet to find a synagogue that was both close enough to his apartment and that he felt comfortable in. Jack was adopted by a local theatre artist after his parents died in a car crash when he was 7, and his roommate Spot (his correct name, another shock for Davey) is his adoptive brother too. Davey considered taking a gap year to England before college. Jack dyed his hair blonde for a year in high school, but stopped after he burnt it all off one morning when retouching his roots while hungover.

When Jack’s pencil finally stopped scratching across the pencil, the sun that was stretching across the floor had disappeared behind an adjacent building and Davey could feel his bones stiffening from sitting upright on the stool for hours on end. Jack leaned back into the couch, sighing with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I’m done, ol’ Davey boy!”

Davey just groaned, leaning forward to push himself up to standing, hearing a couple of joints click as he did so. He could help but wonder exactly how Spot could ever want to use that stool for more than chucking dirty clothes on top of it. Davey took a step towards Jack, asking if he could see the drawing. Jack snatched the paper off the table and gently help it facing towards his chest, insisting that he couldn’t see it until it was done. After a bit of moaning and whining on Davey’s part (he just wanted to see how Jack saw him, was that such a crime?), his stomach decided to let out a rather loud growl. Realising that they both skipped dinner because of the portrait sitting, Davey took that as his cue to say goodnight to Jack and to go find some food for himself.

Jack walked him to the door, and leaned against the door frame to say goodbye. He quickly reached out to brush his hand against Davey’s wrist, both boys staring down at the point of contact between the two of them. It didn’t feel like sparks, or electricity between the two of them, but more like a comfortable warmth. Like when you’re leaning against a sunny window in summer, or like slipping into a item of clothing after it’s just come out of the drier. It just felt right.

“Thanks for doing a sitting and being so honest with me, Davey. I, uh, really enjoyed it.” Jack’s eyes were still cast downwards in an attempt to hide his blush. Being honest with his emotions always scared Jack a little, while Davey thought it was incredibly endearing. The taller moved shifted his arm so he gently held Jack’s forearm, insisting that he had an equally great time, and couldn’t wait until he saw the finished product. Davey dropped his hand from Jack’s arm, turning towards the door and reaching towards the doorknob, but froze before he could turn it.

Because Jack’s placed a very soft kiss on Davey’s cheek. It was light, gentle, and barely there, and yet it was. As soon as Davey felt the pressure on his cheek, it was gone, but the way his heart soared was unmistakable. He turned with a stunned expression towards Jack, with whom he locked eyes in an instant.

“Text me when you get home safe,” he insisted, his eyes displaying an honestly and vulnerability that made Davey melt. Not trusting his voice to not betray him, Davey just smiled and nodded, before slipping out onto the doorstep and closing the door behind him.

[petri808]

20 Questions

We had a power outage on Friday that lasted for like 10 hours, but it inspired a story.  Hope you like it :)   NaLu AU. No smut, just fluff.  Some strong language.

It’s about 9 o’clock in the evening as the budding writer clacks away at her computer desk.  By the time she entered high school, Lucy knew that what she wanted to be when she grew up was a successful fiction novelist.  But the literary world was not a forgiving place, just getting a publishing house to look at your work was difficult enough, and getting it published was even harder; not to mention once you do get that opportunity you now had to prove to the fickle world of readers that you weren’t just a one-hit wonder.    

And that’s where she was.

Two years ago, a small publishing company, Fay House, Inc was intrigued by her fantasy type stories and took a chance on the young woman.  While the book had sold a fair amount of copies in the year it has been on shelves, and some critics deemed her a person to watch in the future, she still had a long way to go before she could quit her day job as a proofreader for the Crocus Gazette and focus all her energy on writing.

By day, she went to her regular job but at night and often through most weekends she spent it huddled over the keyboard hard at work on the second book of her Golden Key Series.  It was due to her agent in 6 months and she had only completed about half of it so far.  If all went to plan tonight, Lucy hoped to finish the chapter she was working on so that maybe, she could take a break and go to a concert this weekend with her best friend.  He’d been bugging her to go ever since their favorite band announced they’d be performing in their hometown.  

Typing away…  ‘…She reached out to the shimmering metal in utter disbelief, could it be that this really was another zodiac key?  The young girl already possessed three, but they were so rare and hard to come by, and more than once it had turned out to be a fake, touted as a reward for a mission completed only to end up being worthless….’

Without warning, the light of her laptop screen dims and blinks out as the blonde is left in total darkness.  “No!” she bangs on the keyboard.  “Ahhh!  Damn it, Damn it, Damn it,” she hits it again, “I didn’t save…”  Lucy slumps in her chair, two hours of work gone in a flash because she forgot to charge up the battery.  Turning on the flashlight app on her phone, she makes her way to her window and that’s when the gravity of the situation reveals itself; the whole city, as far as her eyes can see is completely black.  “Just great!” she throws her hands in the air.  “It’s gonna take them all night to fix this!”  

Two blocks away, Natsu and his roommate Gray are bickering at the TV screen, game controllers in each of their hands when the power goes out.  

“Fuck!” The dark-haired man laments, “And I was winning too!” tossing his controller down in front of him.  

“Yeah, for once!”  

“What they hell bro, I kick your ass most of the time!”

“Tch, only at this game cause you play it more than me!”  Natsu looks over at the window, “Whoa, it’s really dark out there.”

“Of course, it’s dark, idiot, it’s night time and new moon.”

But he stands and walks over to it, “No, moron, like the whole towns gone dark.”

“Seriously?” Gray joins him and seeing it for himself exhales, “Well so much for a rematch tonight.”  His friend drops his controller on the couch and heads towards the front door.  “Hey where are you going?”

“To check on Lucy, I bet she’s screaming at her laptop right now.”  Natsu checks his pockets; keys, phone, ready to go.  “Don’t wait up on me.”

“Right… you’ll be back by midnight.” Laughing.  “You are so pathetic man, how long you gonna stay in the friendzone before you give up and move on.”

“Prick.” Natsu sneers back.  “It’s not like that with her, and you know it.”

“Yeah I know.”  Jesting.  “You two have only been ‘friends’ since Grammar school cause you never had the guts to ask her out.”  

“Whatever,” he raises a finger before shutting the door behind him.

Natsu manages to navigate the two blocks between their apartments despite not being able to see where he was going.  Hell, he’s travelled it so many times he could probably do it blindfolded, even drunk, which has happened on more than one occasion.  A couple of times instead of going home to his apartment from the bar he ended up at her door step.  Maybe it was the wishful thinking of a tipsy man…  Oh, she would whine and complain, ‘not again,’ but always let him in to crash on her couch and sleep off the effects of that night.

But his friend had been right about one thing, Natsu’s had a crush on the pretty blonde since they were children, but he was never very good at admitting his feelings, especially ones that had the potential of becoming embarrassing.  He and Luce, which was his personal nickname for her, had grown so close that at times it was uncanny how one could finish the others sentence or would just know if something was bothering the other.  Like tonight, he would bet money that as soon as the power went out, she had been sitting at her desk writing, screamed and cursed when the screen went blank because she probably hadn’t saved whatever she had been working on, and is now sitting on her couch pouting with the plush dragon doll he won her at a fair clutched in her lap.

Lucy hears a knock at her front door, “Hey Luce, it’s me.”  She stands up from her couch and walks over to open it.

“What bring you here Natsu?” she moves out of the way to let him in before locking the door.  

He kisses her on the cheek and chuckles at what she’s holding in her arms, “Hi to you too.  I just wanted to make sure you were alright…”  grinning, “and didn’t break your computer ranting at it.”

“Tch.” She crosses her arms around her doll.  “No.  But I lost everything I wrote tonight.”  Sigh, she plops back onto her couch.  “I don’t think I’ll have time to go to that concert with you this weekend… and I was looking forward to it too.”  Pouting.

He sits beside her and puts his arm around, prompting her to rest her head on his shoulder.  “I have faith in you Luce, you wrote it once so I’m sure you’ll be able to whip it out easily the second time.”  Looking around her living room, she’s set up a few candles around the room giving it that cozy, perfect to cuddle in, kind of ambience.  He lets out a sigh, “Did you eat dinner?  I know how you sometimes forget to when you start working on that book.”

She shakes her head, “But I’ve got snacks I can break open if I get hungry.”  Cuddling a little closer to him, “Thanks for coming over… it was kinda creepy being alone in the dark.”

Leaning his head against hers, “You’re welcome.  So…  not much to do without power.  Wanna play cards or something?”

“Hmm… not really…”

“Board game?”

“Mmm, no.”

“I could put some music on from my phone.”

“Alright.”  He fishes the device from his pocket and turns on Pandora to a mild volume before setting it on her coffee table.  She sighs, “That’s better than silence.  What were you up to before the power went out?  No wait, let me guess, playing video games.”

“You know me well, Luce.”

“And then you decided to come check on me, just because the power went out?”

“I told you, cause I knew you’d probably be upset.”

It was nicer having him there, although she’d never previously admitted that she wasn’t fond of the dark, somehow, he knew and simply came to her rescue.  “Mmmm…” she hums, settling into the sanctity of his embrace.        

The blonde falls silent, enjoying this little quiet time with her BF.  With most people, Natsu is always goofy and gregarious but when it’s just the two of them, a more modest and subdued man shows up.  She doesn’t mind it, but sometimes wonders why he’s like that, as if he’s hesitant in how to interact with her.  Levy, her best girlfriend, swears it’s because he likes her and is trying to hide it but one would think by now, I mean all these years later, she’d have noticed something that told her if that was a possibility.  Or the other explanation is, she chooses not to get her hopes up because it makes her nervous…  Well nervous in that happy butterflies in your stomach kind of emotion and she doesn’t want it to turn into the sad, I wasted all these years waiting for nothing feeling.  An incident a few days ago made the blonde start thinking about their relationship and what it really meant to him.  Was she just his buddy?  Being stuck without the benefit of distractions could be the perfect opportunity to ferret out the truth, if she was ready.  She shudders at her thoughts.

He feels her tremble, “Luce, are you cold?  I could grab you a blanket…”

“I’m not cold… I was just thinking about something.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, it’s okay, really.” Faking a yawn.  “Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Do you, wanna go lie down?  I can just head out.”

She turns to look at him, “Would you stay tonight since the power is still out… I’d feel safer not being alone.”

“Sure, I’ll just crash on the couch.”

Biting her lip, “I meant stay with me in… my room…”

His heart catches in his throat.  The fingers he has resting on his thigh, curl and dig into his skin trying to wake him up from the obvious dream he must be having because Lucy has never asked him to sleep in her bed, with her.  Sure, it won’t be the first time they’ve shared an intimate space but it’s a little different when it’s a camping trip or group vacation with limited room that they must make due, and he has slept-walked in and woke up in her bed before… He blinks his eyes, but nope she’s still there, waiting for his response.  “O-okay.”

She pats his leg, “I’m gonna change for bed.  Would you mind snuffing out the candles before you come in?”

“Y-yeah, I can do that.”

“Thanks.” She kisses his cheek and walks to her bedroom.

Natsu bides his time, slowly moving around the apartment.  ‘I wonder why she’s acting a little weird tonight.  Maybe she was drinking before I got here…  Nah that can’t be it.’  Just once, when Lucy had had too much to drink at a college party she came onto him, but he knew that wasn’t the case tonight.  He checks the front doors lock, makes sure the windows are closed, empties his pockets onto the kitchen counter, turns off the music, and one by one extinguishes the 6 or so candles, Lucy had placed around the space.  Before blowing the last one out, he scans one more time to make sure everything is secure before knocking.  “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” She calls out from behind the wooden door.

The light from her phone is the only thing illuminating the room as she sits on her bed in a cotton tank top and shorts type of PJ’s.  Lucy pulls back the comforter as he silently breathes a sigh of relief that she’s not in lingerie or something more suggestive; the outfit she has on will be bad enough to be close to but that would have been much worse.  She pats the bed.  “Are you gonna sleep in that?” she points at his jeans.  “Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable.”

He runs his hand nervously through his hair, yes it would be, but the alternative is what, his boxers and just the t-shirt?  He grapples with the decision for a moment.  “I think I’ll take um off.  I-If you don’t mind,”

“I’ve seen you in just boxers before, remember, like that time when Gray yanked your shorts down during a wrestling match.”

“Right…” but that doesn’t make him feel better.  

She turns off the light from her phone to give him a little bit of privacy, as he strips and get into her queen-sized bed.  Pulling the covers up to her chest she lays there on her back staring at the ceiling and he does the same, remaining in that suspended reticence for some time before Lucy sighs loudly, “Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“I wanna… play a game.”

“Now?  But I thought you were tired?”

“I lied.”

Natsu turns to his side and props his head up to look at her, but she continues to stare at the ceiling, “Well, what did you wanna play?”  

She can hear the irritation in his voice knowing that it’s because of the lie.  Sighing again, “I wanna play…  20 questions…”

Now his interest is peeked, but his anxiety also kicks in.  What brought this on so suddenly?  It’s obvious to him that there must have been something on her mind earlier and this ‘game’ is just a ruse to bring it up.  But why go through all the trouble just to ask a few questions unless they are a touchy subject?  He can feel his heartrate pick up and his skin flushing at just the notion, things could become uncomfortable, very, shortly…  He exhales and lays on his back again, “Fire away Luce.”  

“We’ll take turns asking each other questions, no subject off limits, and we have to tell the truth no matter how hard it is.”  He cringes, yet at the same time, if he’s gonna be asked some awkward questions then it’s only fair he could finally get answers that have been burning in him too…  “I’ll start.  What’s my pen name?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, “That’s easy, Lucy Ashley.  My turn, um…”  ‘I think she’s testing how well I know her…’  “…How old was I when I was adopted.”

“6.  When did my father lose his company?”

“You were 16…  I think.”

“Close enough, I was 17.”

“What’s my favorite color.”

“Red, specifically reddish-orange cause it reminds you of fire.”  His eyes light up, ‘Damn she pays close attention!’  “Who’d I go to the Junior prom with.”

“Tch, Loke.”  Hearing the disgust in his voice makes her smile, maybe Levy was right after all…  “But at least I got to take you Senior year…”  

“If it bothered you that much, you should have asked me to go with you.”

“Never mind, can’t change the past.”  exhale  “It’s my turn again, what’s my…  favorite food?”

‘Is he too afraid to ask something harder?’  Lucy starts chuckling, “Is that a trick question?  You’ll eat anything but I guess I’ll say, spicy stuff are your favorites.”

He chuckles too, “Very true, I’m not a picky eater.”

“Alright, my turn,” she takes a deep breath.  “W-why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

‘Ouch!  She went right for the jugular.’ His face paling, “B-because I didn’t…  I-I…” exhale  “…was too afraid to ask you out.”  He feels her turn on her side, senses the stare even in the darkness but he gives her no chance to respond yet.  “Same question Luce.”

Sigh, “Because I was waiting for you to ask me out.  How long have you had a crush on me?”

“5th grade.”  Now her eyes widen, she thought maybe he might say high school but grade school!  “Same question Luce.”

“8th grade, PE class.”

Shocked, “You remember it down to the specific time?!”  

“It’s not your turn to ask a question, but the answer is yes.” He feels the bed shift as she turns to face away from him.  Even though she’s the one who started this, it’s still uncomfortable to say the least…  “I always thought you were cute, and you were already a close friend but…  that was the first time I saw you without a shirt on…”  she’s biting her lip at the memory and he can hear that slight mumble in the way she’s talking even though he can’t see it and his heart is beating as a fast as a hummingbird’s wings to finally know the truth.  “… and I remember thinking wow, you had really started to develop over the summer.”  Exhaling “My turn.  If I asked you to hold me, right now, would you, do it?”

Thrilled by her question, his answer requires no verbal response as he spoons up behind her and puts his arm around her waist breathing out his next question, “What’s your favorite thing about me?”  expecting her to say maybe his personality or even his body which he keeps maintained just for her…

“Your hair and your eyes.”

“Seriously?  ‘Didn’t see that coming…’  My hair?”

“I like the color.  Do you… want a girlfriend Natsu?”  

“Maybe…  If I asked you to be my girlfriend, would you say yes?”  His breathing stops in anticipation.

“Yes.”  Lucy can’t help but giggle when he lets the air back into his lungs.  “Were you that worried I’d say no?”

“Hell yeah, that’s why I’ve never asked you before.”

Taking a deep breath of her own, “Natsu, wanna know why I wanted to play 20 questions?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Because this way I could test your reactions…  cause, I was afraid you didn’t like me either…”

“What brought this on anyways?”

“I saw you checking out a girl at the café the other day and…” she bites her lip, “I was worried you were moving on…”

He squeezes her waist and buries his face in her hair.  “That girl just had a cool tattoo on her arm, so you needn’t worry Luce…  no one could ever take your place.”

She yawns and relaxes against him, “Could you give Gray a message?”

“What’s that?”

“Find a new roommate cause you’re moving in with me.”      

Natsu feigns shock, “Hold up, who said I’d agree to that?”

“Oh please, you can’t lie to me.  I know you’re thrilled about that idea.”

“Damn you know me too well…”  she giggles.  “Well if we’re moving so quickly why don’t we just get married too while we’re at it?”

She stops giggling and turns around in his arms.  “Are we still playing 20 questions?”

“Does it matter?  A question is a question.”  

But she punches his chest, “Ugh, you know a girl would prefer something more romantic if their being asked for their hand.”  

“Yeah and what about me made you think that was gonna happen?  I thought you knew me better?”

Lucy does her best to pout but can’t stifle the giggle, “Can’t fault a girl for trying.”

“So, are you gonna answer the question?”

Turning back over quickly, “Nope.”

“What!”  But she starts giggling.  “Ooh you!”  he pulls her onto her back and starts tickling making her laugh harder.  “You’re so mean to me!”

Doing the only thing she can think of to stop his torture she grabs his face and pulls his lips against hers.  It works as he stops to return the kiss.  Smiling, “of course the answer is yes Natsu, though it wouldn’t have killed you to try and be more romantic.”

“Fine.”  He climbs off the bed and starts to put his pants back on.  

“Wait!” Lucy scrambles to a sitting position fearing she pushed him too far.  “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back,” kissing her cheek.  “I’m taking your key so I can let myself back in.”

“But where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it Luce, I just need to grab something from my apartment.”

Natsu leaves his nervous girlfriend hanging as he makes his way out.  ‘How the hell am I supposed to come up with something romantic at 1 in the morning, no one’s open, and hell even if they were there’s no power!’  Flying up the stairs at his building two at a time, he finds Gray talking on his phone to his girlfriend.

“Knew you’d be back!” he calls out as Natsu just bypasses him for his room like a man on a mission.

“I’m not, just came to grab some things.”

“Wait what?”  “Juvy I gotta call you back.”  Hanging up, he walks over to his friend’s room and sees a flustered man searching around in the closet.  “You’re goin back to Lucy’s?”

“Yeah.  Why is it so hard to believe?”  Gray can’t see what Natsu shoved into his pocket but can see him throwing some clothes into an overnight bag.  

“Whoa, you really are spending the night there!”  following Natsu to the bathroom where the man is adding other personal necessities to his bag.  Snickering, “I take it things are going well between you?”

“As a matter of fact, it is.”  Zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.  “You know, maybe you should move in with Juvia.”

“Why, sick of seeing my face?”

“No, I’ll be moving in with Lucy…”  Grays mouth hangs open.  “…as soon as you find a new roommate or maybe move in with your girlfriend, like I am.” And now his jaw drops.  “Oh, and by the way yes she’s now my girlfriend and we’re engaged.”

Following Natsu to the front door, his friend grabs his arm, “Are you fucking with me?  That’s kinda rushing things, I mean you weren’t even a couple and now you’re moving in and getting married!”  

“Well not this second, but shit.  Even though we weren’t an official couple all these years you gotta admit it’s what we practically were.”

“Yeah but still…”

“Look, I gotta get back to her so can we talk later.”  He leaves his stunned friend behind.

When Natsu returns to her apartment, he finds Lucy in the kitchen making sandwiches.  He chuckles, “got hungry while I was gone?”

“MmHmm.” She mumbles through a bite.  “Want, I made for you too?”

He puts his bag on the couch and joins her.  “Awe, so romantic, deli meats by candle light…”  he grins.   She rolls her eyes as she takes another bite.  “But I’ll eat in a minute.”

“Suit yourself.”  

Walking up behind her he wraps his arms around her waist, “The candles are as romantic as this is gonna get,” and holds something shiny in front of her face, “Lucy Heartfillia, will you marry me?”  Lucy’s hand trembles as it puts down the rest of her sandwich and he lifts her left hand.  “Well?”

So, in shock she manages a fervent nod while he slips the ring onto her finger.  “H-how…  you couldn’t have bought this tonight?”

“I mugged a lady I found on the street.”  She slaps his arm.  Chuckling, “No I saw it, a couple of years ago at a store and thought it would look stunning on you.”

“T-two years ago?”

He turns her to face him.  “Well maybe more like several years ago… just in case this ever happened.”

“You had hoped for a power outage?”

“What?” laughing he tilts her head up, “So smart until those blonde roots get the best of you.  No, if I ever had the chance to be your boyfriend… and eventually your husband.”

“That story… it’s so romantic… you had been thinking about me like that for so long…”

He squeezes her waist again.  “I guess it’s a good thing you caught me checking out another girl…”

“Excuse me!” she tries to push him away, but he holds her firm.  

“Well it’s what prompted the 20 questions game, right?” she stops pushing.  “and led to this.  By the way, Gray thinks it’s crazy that we just hooked up and are gonna get married already.”

“Everyone chalked us up as a couple for years… so it’s not like we just met and rushed into things.”

Laughing, “I said the same thing!”

She tiptoes and kisses his grinning lips, “It’s scary how well we know each other…”

[stimstriders]

the one where he's not popular

davekat - high school au

Player, charismatic, funny, outgoing, hot, desirable, popular.

Dave Strider is unmatchably full of character and coolness, except that he’s not. That’s online, on a computer screen, thousands of miles away from him in three directions and only three directions. Over a chat client Dave likes to think that he oozes cool from every pore if only to distract from the fact that it’s obvious he doesn’t.

His friends might be onto his game a little bit but that’s all clouded by the miles and miles of distance between the four of them. They could very well all be perfectly aware of just how uncool he is (I mean, look at their conversations) but there’s a hella thick layer of plausible deniability bundling him up like a safety blanket. They don’t see him every day, they only know what he shows them, he’s been wrong before about people’s impression of him.

That last bit of criteria in equal parts unnerves Dave and comfort him because yeah, he may be hella bad at reading people (especially through the internet,) but it stirs the whole situation in the unreliable narrator’s shitty brain. My friends all hate me and think I’m annoying here, I’m just thinking that because my brain is fucking weird there, I could be excusing them actually hating me with my shitty brain but in reality they really, really do hate me there.

Damn, when did this all get spun from ���uncool” to “hate?”

Either way Dave shakes the thought from his head like he’s whipping a pesky gnat away from buzzing in his ear. There are some ways he could alleviate these concerns in a, like, healthy manner. But most of them get swept under the rug and he settles into familiar albeit anxious passivity all over again.

Dave Strider isn’t classic cool, isn’t popular, and honestly isn’t even often noticed. That’s probably a good thing for a multitude of reasons, ranging from the sunglasses he wears when he’s allowed all the way to his general physical state. Bruises that would be harder to hide if he had more contact than just brushing up against people in the halls, the way he scarfs down gross school meals like nobody’s fucking business because he’s probably, definitely not going to get a meal even half that substantial at home. Much less as fattening or having any significant nutrition. The jury’s still out on whether or not school food actually satisfies his super necessary food-pyramid (or whatever they’re using now) needs, but it’s a better bet than the shit he eats at home.

It’s probably good that he isn’t popular. Which is a huge stroke of fucking luck.

Not like he just struck unpopularity as a fluke and he’s really a super cool guy or anything, but he clearly remembers when arguably the most popular kid at their school rolled his ass into this institutional hellhole in the middle of the spring semester freshman year. Hell, he still sees him fucking daily and even has a few classes with him, plus the same lunch period. It’s not a small school or anything, but they run into eachother a whole fucking lot.

Day one, Karkat had just moved to Texas from Washington State (why was completely beyond him) and had absolutely no one, just like Dave. Karkat had planted his ass at Dave’s reject lunch table for about a week before scooting out to a more respectable one.

Dave's overly chatty, make no mistake, but... not publicly. Yeah, it'd be nice to have someone to talk to outside of his phone and his computer, but that's a whole lot of reaching out and extending himself that's just all kinds of not cool.

Needless to say, they didn't say shit to eachother in the first week or so that they sat together. For the most part they just pretended the other wasn't there. It's always been that way, it's kind of their thing, Dave likes to think. They're pretty comfortable with eachother, right? Like silent bros, silently acknowledging their broship from a respectable, silent distance.

Nah. 'Cause with Karkat's real friends he's talkative as hell. Even with the people he doesn't like he shouts up a storm or rambles on about something to keep the air free of awkward silence. Karkat's just treating him like everyone treats him with a few more sideways glances.

Dave isn't so broken up about it. Karkat isn't even the cool kind of popular with Daddy's money and shitty high school parties pumped full of alcohol. Karkat's the kind of popular that has him flush with project partners and people to get him in trouble for talking too much. The kind of popular where it's easy for him to rope two or three people per class period into after school events, student council meetings, book fair organization, debate team spots...

Karkat's the nerdy, uncool kind of popular that has him flittering from clique to clique without a second thought because to him, cliques are a myth.

Dave sees them. Sees the sports kids and the camo-decked red-necks, the hipster druggies and the trailer-trash druggies, the theater kids and the band kids, the Advanced Placement kids and the weebs.

And then he and Karkat, who are outliers in completely different ways. Karkat, who can sit with everyone. Dave, who's cool enough to have his own table.

Don't get him wrong: he's not bitter about it. Honestly, he's above all of that grouped up trash. Yeah, sometimes he thinks about how it'd be neat to be able to bounce between the hipsters and the trailer-trash, (he'd probably fit in just fine with both,) nabbing a joint or a cigarette when he could, but he didn't need it. Especially when the cell-phone ban got lifted and he was free to kick up at the back of the cafeteria and shoot the shit with John, Rose, and Jade looking properly fucking insouciant.

School was just a better place to be at than home, and if he made a habit of not going to school it might get Bro in legal trouble. He went to school sick, bruised, tired, mentally vacant - and saved the off days for when he really needed them.

Today’s a combo day: bruised and tired. Approaching the bus stop, Dave’s already thinking on walking right past as he thumbs the contact-case in his pocket. A big factor here is that he hasn’t put his contacts in yet and he’ll probably have to be late to first period in order to slip away and put them in.

Karkat shuffles up to the bus stop next to Dave and boy does he look like shit. He’s slumped over, eyes half-closed, dark circles bruising up under his eyes and a deep furrow to his thick eyebrows. Dave shifts his hands in his pockets, giving the other boy a quick once-over before looking back to the cars passing on the city road in front of them.

A few minutes pass before he looks back, thumbing the pause button on his music app. “You look like shit, dude,” are probably the first words he’s ever said to this guy.

Nah, they had a project together at the beginning of sophomore year for some bullshit class. Geometry? Karkat’s shit at math, probably one of the only non-advanced classes he has.

Karkat squints back at Dave, and if possible the deep-set furrow in his brows only squishes deeper. It takes some effort to swallow back the laugh bubbling up his throat in response to that. “Gee, thanks for your completely fucking unasked for opinion. That sure is the one thing I needed to hear at 6 o’clock in the morning on a fucking Monday. What a fantastic way to start my week!”

At that Dave does actually snicker. “No one looks good this early on a Monday,” he points out, “you know, except me.”

“You look like shit, too, dick-for-brains. Don’t delude yourself. I shudder to imagine what’s under those tacky glasses you insist on wearing before the sun’s even properly up.”

Time for a curve-ball. “Let’s go down to 19th street.”

Karkat is satisfyingly shocked. Dark brown eyes widen and thick eyebrows smooth out long enough to lift comically high. His lips part into a little ‘o’ and damn do they look weirdly girly with how full and soft they look.

Wait. Dave mentally shakes himself back into awareness. Curve-ball rebound, damn.

For once Karkat doesn’t even seem like he knows how to respond at first. After a few more seconds of being stunned, he manages. “Are you asking me to skip school with you? I’m competing for valedictorian, I can’t just miss school for no reason.”

Dave pulls his earbuds from his ears and winds them around his phone before sliding it back into his pocket over his contact case. “You can more than afford it, dude, don’t bullshit the king of bullshit. You clearly feel like crap, that’s more than enough reason to say screw it for one day and skip out. Plus you, like, never miss school.” Hiking his bag up higher on his shoulder, Dave leans over to press the cross signal on the pole beside them. 

“We’re gonna get caught,” Karkat cautions as the signal blinks green and Dave leads the way across. As Karkat jogs up beside him to fall into pace with his long strides, Dave’s chest shivers with a foreign tremble of relief.

“Nah, I’ve done this before. Nobody outside of school gives a shit who you are or what you’re doing.” They hit sidewalk and swing right, starting down toward Yale. “You think everybody knows you’re skipping, but plenty’a kids could be out for plenty’a reasons. We could be college kids for all they know. Nobody assumes you’re not doing what you’re supposed to and nobody asks. As long as you stay away from the school.”

They lapse into silence and Dave bumps his shoulder into Karkat’s every time he tenses when someone walks too close or a car drives by too slow. When they come up on 19th street Dave pulls his camera from his bag and loops the strap around his neck, grinning when Karkat sidles a few steps away from him suspiciously.

“Chill out. You should be all about my delinquent ass whipping out some school work while we’re misbehaving, shouldn’t you?”

“Keep your fucking voice down?” Karkat stage-whispers. Or maybe that’s him actually whispering. Fuck, that would be gold. “And who the hell refers to themselves as a delinquent outside of anime? You’re not some fucking hentai trope.”

“Dude, did you just say hentai? You- you know that’s not synonymous, right?”

Dave leads them into a coffee place, Karkat’s complaining shifting topics to the heavy scent of smoke lingering in the cafe from the cigar bar next door. They order coffee and Dave buys them both breakfast before Karkat can shoulder him aside to pay for himself. Karkat makes fun of him for taking a few pictures of their mugs and Dave babbles over his embarrassment. 

They hit the record store and Karkat’s ribbing intensifies until Dave gets some revenge in a hole in the wall bookstore that they slip into. Both of them walk away with a reasonable haul and banter their way to an arcade down the street. 

Guitar Hero and a shitty DDR rip-off eat up some time. Dave really tries not to seem like he’s showing off or anything, but even stiff from ten layers of bruises he does better than Karkat’s willing to loosen up for. They turn up about even in the racing games, if only because Dave intentionally spins out and turns it into a game of bumper cars.

Karkat laughs a lot. It’s really nice.

They end up in a cramped ice-cream shop with Karkat still struggling to shove an ugly rainbow teddy-bear in his bag alongside all his school shit and the books he bought earlier. Dave picked it out for irony’s sake as a blaring wow, look how gay it is joke, but once Karkat started expressing that he genuinely liked it he... lightened up.

“I had a really good time today,” Karkat is mumbling around a spoonful of Chai Tea Coconut ice cream - (seriously, what the fuck) - his cheeks flushed up, and it takes everything Dave has in him not to lift up the camera hanging around his neck.

Tuesday, Karkat smiles at him from across the aisle on the bus. He’s already two thirds of the way through one of the shitty romance novels he picked up on their trip. At lunch he sits down at Dave’s VIP table followed by three other people and Dave swallows down his discomfort, keeping his eyes locked down on his phone until Karkat starts elbowing him and asking his opinion about shit.

Wednesday, repeat. Thursday, repeat.

This might’ve been a big mistake.

[xobabygirlhemingway]

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Currently I’m sitting on my old roommates bed in my dorm that is now to myself. Because this dumb foreign bitch who is only spending a semester here from South Korea thinks she can test me. Don’t ever take pics of my side of the room and my personal shit mocking my lack of organization due to the fact I’m a messy depressed sloth. Tf hoe. And also don’t tell me I can’t have guys over IN MY BED. You mad I’m pulling niggas and you're not. You’re not my mom. Don’t text me and tell me to clean my side. This is college I have other shit on my agenda to worry about. And this bitch thought she could play me. LOL. Hoe. You a whole snitch. This 23 year old uptight goody ass bitch that offered to buy my underage ass beer dug through my trash and put my friends and I’s used plastic shot cups in a ziplock bag and turned it into the front desk literally 2 days after I moved in. What tf they gone do? Test it for alcohol and fingerprint it? I think the fuck not. The fact she was so proud when they didn’t care and just threw that shit out is a whole joke. Thank god I go to a ghetto ass college where the RA’s are cool. When my friend Z tried to fight a hoe for gossiping around campus talking shit RA’s at the front desk said “As long as it’s not on campus.” Also sidenote- don’t come to college on some petty ass high school shit. Ain nobody on that fuck shit. Three weeks in and I’ve already gained and lost friends because snakes go with the grass I cut. Anyways, now I have no roommate cause the little snitch bitch had to move out because I almost fought her, she had to bring our RA B to come help her move out because she was so scared. Cussed her ass out right in front of our RA. Zero fucks given. Good riddance. Also thank god the snitch was unaware of my bottles and bong on lock. Everyone here already knows me as the plug for bottles because I always got bottles. Courtesy of Walmart, and my big ass purse I steal them with. Somebody call Kodak and let him know I’m the real Finesse Kid. I’m still recovering from last night. What happened last night you ask? Woke up, beat my face, spent the last of my money at Walmart on notebooks, a rug and flowers for my dorm, and fabrics, etc. for a lingerie line my friend Z and I are planning to start. Time to get a job! Seriously considering becoming a stripper with Z. Yes, we signed up for pole dancing classes for tomorrow I guess we’ll see if we actually go through with it or not depending if we can find a bus there and back. Anyways, when we arrived back to the dorms from Walmart (after getting stranded and having Z’s ex fuck buddy’s friend covered in satanic looking ass Tatts pick us up because we missed the last bus back) we got dressed real cute to go to a hookah bar and invited our friend Kodak. His name Ain really Kodak but I call him Kodak because he looks like Kodak. Who we are all friends but I just found out likes me. I can only be friends and get along with guys fr but then they have to always go and catch feelings. The struggle is real. Anyways, we start walking to the hookah bar because it’s real close to campus downtown and on the way Kodak runs into one of his friends who decides to tag along. In a sketchy dark back alley Z changed out of her leggings and coat because it was cold into her cute outfit ready to make an entrance. Kodak and his friend waited for us in the parking lot. This drunk white guy with dreads creeps up behind Kodak’s friend who was ready to swing just to scare him. He apologizes for his dumbassery and we make our entrance into the hookah bar. We sit down and order our hookah and as we wait, the same white guy with the dreads walks up to us from the bar. He apologizes and introduces himself as a tattoo artist and offers to buy us all Henny shots. Hell yeah. He brings us the shots and when we all take them, a worker comes up to us and kicks us out for underage drinking (they marked our hands with x’s) when we just arrived and didn’t even get a chance to do what we came to do. Chill and smoke hookah. So we leave and say fuck it and go on the hunt for a party because it’s Saturday night and we’re in college so there’s bound to be a party. We heard about a party at The E (apartment complex of mostly college kids) without knowing the room. And also a party at a frat house. Last frat party we went to was a complete disappointment and groups of people we kept passing kept saying The E was the move. So you know damn well we went to The E. And let me tell you, The E was poppin. You walk in that bitch and you see drunk girls falling everywhere, fine niggas in flocks, hear music blasting. The first party we go to was alright. My girl Z was the only one throwing it back. And these prissy blonde little hoes with no ass wanna give judgmental looks because they can’t throw it back even if they wanted to. So we left the party on the 2nd floor for the party on the 4th floor. The second we exited the staircase onto the 4th floor because the elevators were packed was like the stairway into heaven. Music was blasting, drunk bitches were tumbling past, and there was a whole ass crowd waiting outside this one room. First thought was fuck this shit, but it was known there was a lit ass party in that room. And we had to be in there. We pushed past and as soon as we entered, we were apart of the best party I’ve been to ever. You see guys with their shirts off, niggas smoking on that loud, girls twerking on guys, throwing ass everywhere. This drunk girl got on the table and started yelling. You know, the shit you see in movies. And in that moment, we knew, we were the only practically sober ones there. We find our friend T and sit with her on the couch. Kodak’s friend stayed at the last party which wasn’t shit compared to this one, so his loss. Kodak sat on the couch arm chair and I was on the end with him, with him looking like he my man. I looked fly as fuck; rhinestone choker, off the shoulder black bodysuit, $60 ripped jeans with my face beat. Looking like a whole snack. And a full course meal. I recognize from across the room this guy Z and I met with his friend on campus whom we exchanged snapchats with. He goes by Chop (I’ll say that since it’s not his real name and use first letters for everyone who got a real name tf) and he been hitting on me on the snap. I knew he lived at The E with his friend L. I pointed him out to Z and she called him over with his dreads, tattoos, and grills. He leaned over and said something to him then he approached me. (Later I found out she told him I wanted him and he didn’t even recognize me or realize who it was smh) he starts talking to me and points out I look sober as fuck which was an unfortunate fact. He goes to grab me a drink and comes back with a plastic cup and I down that shit the second he hands it to me. Okay. I know. Before you point out how stupid I am, I know not to take drinks from guys. But I was in a fuck it mood. Which typically is the cause of my many mistakes and reasons for sticky situations. I handed the cup back to him and he turned it upside down to make sure I finished that shit. Z was sitting next to me and asked if I took that drink and pointed out that he made sure I finished it and how sketchy that looked and that he probably slipped me some shit. Z turns to T to tell T, then tells Kodak (we all still chilling on the couch). They’re all asking me why I took it and I’m sitting there like fuck. I tell them no matter what, to stay with me at all times and make sure we leave together so nothing happens to me in case this nigga tried to date rape me or some shit. And they were making me all paranoid. With that established and the fact there was nothing we could do because I already drank whatever the fuck he gave me, and the party was still lit we got up and started dancing. T was grinding, Z was twerking. Z got down on the floor and started twerking and got the whole parties attention everyone was recording that shit. I remember it hitting me fast and I felt super fucked up. When I first got to this party I saw Q (fine light skin) and tapped him on the shoulder to make my cute ass known. Back story about my history with Q: Z met Q on the app for our college so she invited him to hang with us. She went back home for the weekend leaving us alone together mid-hangout so we went and hotboxed his car. He called me pretty, said my skin was soft, and I sang him Love Galore in his car. He drove my high ass to Taco Bell, God bless. Tried to get me to come back to his room but instead I went to bed in my room, parting ways. A few days later Z was making me third wheel with her and B (her ex complicated boy fling) and we were bored and decided to go to the movies. Z dragged me down the guys floor hall and knocked on Q’s door for me to invite him. He agreed and came with us as an awkward unofficial double date. And by awkward I mean Z and B were hardcore making out and B was grabbing all over Z’s ass she was practically on top of him the entire movie. When I was just sitting next to Q and we were awkwardly watching the movie with zero contact. The most contact that went down is when I put my head on his shoulder during the end credits to see a funny video he was watching on his phone. BUT WAIT BACK UP!- upon entrance to the movies when we were buying our tickets Q patted his pockets and looked at me and went, “You paying?” TOTAL DICK MOVE. His excuse was, “But you invited me.” Nigga no. Then I’ll uninvite you tf. I was highkey salty at him the entire movie. And yes, I ended up paying for his expensive ass $10 ticket with my poor ass that I can never afford again and that is $10 I will never see again. Z told me stop talking to him, and I agree my standards should never be that low. What a total and complete douche. Not the same guy I met on the first night. Fast forward to two days before the party and Q almost fought with M. M is my unofficial boyfriend. Not my boyfriend. I lost my virginity to him (yes I came to college a virgin) and he’s the only guy I’ve been with, and between us let’s just say we’ve fucked a lot since then. Q and M almost fought because M knew I hung with Q and was being a jealous immature little boy and sending me snapchat videos of Q off guard in class making fun of him. It annoyed me what M was doing so I told Q and then Q started roasting tf out of M to me via text. There was tension and long story short shit almost went down but it didn't. (”You have niggas fighting over you!” -Z) Anyways, back to the party. My fucked up ass set on a mission to find Q at this party knowing he was here. I found him by the kitchen standing there just staring at the crowd looking like he was having no fun. I walked up to him not giving a single fuck this psychotic bitch I was best friends with the first two weeks of college was dancing right next to him with her new friends. I remember throwing my arms around him, being all up on him, putting his arms around me. I was a mess. Yikes. No matter how fucked up, he will never deserve me after that dick move he pulled. I barely remember this night and the order of events that happened next so bare with me. I remember turning up. Leaving, coming back, Z teaching me to throw it back at the bottom of the stairs before going back again. Then we left. Z took off her heels because her feet hurt and stepped on broken glass as we were walking down the steps outside. We sat on benches as she tried to pick it out, while she was doing that for some reason my stupid fucked up ass decided to call M. Honestly I don’t even remember what I was saying but according to Z, it was bad. I brought up Q, and was talking about other guys and Z told me M has feelings for me - which he has yet to confess to me but in the meantime proves I am a total and complete piece of shit. While on the phone with M, me paying no attention to him even though he was on the line different groups of guys kept approaching me and talking to me and asking for my snapchat. I have so many snapchat adds from guys that night, who knows whos who. Because I sure don’t. We ended up walking back to campus with the last group of guys that approached us. I remember one guy trying to come onto me hard and this white guy with a speech impediment telling me how good his plug was and showing me pictures of weed trying to get with me unaware how unattracted I am to white boys. I remember meeting up with my drunk friend A in front of the dining hall on campus who came from the frat party which apparently was crazy lit too, to go back to the party I just came from at The E, but then we heard word that all parties were shut down by the police because they were too lit. Which explained the cops coming up the stairs as Z and I were leaving (perfect timing). The girls (Z, A & I) and Kodak (who lives in the same dorm building as us) decided to go back to our dorms. The guys we were walking with tried to come back to our rooms and kept trying to get us to sign them in but we were like BOY BYE and ditched them at the door. Kodak and Z went to bed, A and I made our way to the basement and ate other peoples food from the public fridge (I know, I’m horrible).  Then I remember eventually making it to my room and crashing. I forgot to mention I was sweating bullets and was hot as fuck. All I wanted to do was party, hell I was even trying to twerk which doesn’t ever happen with my self-conscious petite ass. And I kept trying to go back to the party. Z said he definitely slipped me some shit and I heard word it was Molly. The world may never know. But no way was that just alcohol. Everything was a blur including this morning. And at least he didn’t date rape me. I did think it was weird he slipped me shit then ditched me. When I messaged him on snap that night after I left the party making it known it was me he kept trying to get me to come back and saying he would come pick me up which is weird. I passed. Moral of the story is, don’t take drinks from guys with grills. Or any guys for that matter. I slept until 3 pm today and Z and I were exhausted as fuck still recovering from last night. Today we walked around the hood, and came back to eat and crash. I’m sitting in bed ready to finish this so I can crash because holy shit I’m so exhausted. I have classes tomorrow I NEED TO GO TO. Three weeks into college (forgot to mention I’m a freshman and I’m 18) and I’ve only been to one class. I know it’s bad. My depression has just been really taking a toll. But I’m trying to not let it be the fall of me. I’m making it a priority to go tomorrow and from now on out. It’s going to be interesting to see ho I manage sewing in my Apparel Production class with these long ass acrylic nails. (I’m a fashion major btw). That’s my first class of the day that goes from like 10:30 am to 1 pm then I have Communications which I forget what time. Anyways, I’ll be there. And I know I’m fucked because I’m so behind. I have to be up early to beat my face and get breakfast & Starbucks with Z before class. After classes we have our pole dancing intro class which I’m interested to see if we actually go through attending or not. Then later M is coming over one last time. He’s in the army and I just found out he’s going to Florida to help with the hurricane for two months. Two fucking months. So much for a relationship. He wants me to wait for him. But it don’t be like that. This isn’t a relationship, I don’t know you and you barely know me. You took my virginity and we’ve been sleeping together and laying up in bed since. I only briefly mentioned my mom’s husbands abuse once. And he thinks he knows me. He likes me but doesn’t talk to me and gets jealous and acts like we’re in a relationship but doesn’t get to know me or tell me about himself nor does he ask. I’m not the same person I was a week ago, who knows what kind of change will occur in two months. I met M at college orientation a month before college. I approached him because I liked his tattoos (ITS ALWAYS THE TATTOOS THAT GET ME!!). The girl I used to be friends with the first two weeks of college called him over at the basketball court saying I was interested but too scared to talk to him. (not scared, just awkward. Plus he was in the middle of a game) he ended up asking for my number and things went from there. I’ve made it known I’m single though.  He hasn’t even attempted to cuff me fr so that’s on him. He doesn’t seem to realize I’m not your typical virgin. Or wasn’t. How am I supposed to do long distance with a guy that won’t even establish what we are. I’ll let him figure it out. However, I’ve had my eyes on this guy I keep running into. First two times on campus and the other two times on the city bus. He has a neck tattoo that’s how I’m always able to tell it’s him. He looks like a cross between Tay-K and YG so you already know whats up. Saw him on the city bus yesterday before that crazy night on my way to Walmart with Z. Z fell asleep next to me on the bus but when I saw him get on I immediately woke Z up. “Why the fuck did you wake me up?” She follows my gaze and, “Ohhh” Best Friend Intuition. “I’m going to go get him for you.” I kept telling her no but you know damn well she did. She gets up and walks down the bus and takes the seat right next to him. “My friend thinks you’re cute but is too scared to talk to you.” She kept trying to wave me over and I kept refusing, they were both staring and I realized now I’m looking stupid so I make my way over and sit in the seat in front of Z, turned towards him. It was mostly Z doing the talking and was honestly awkward for me. But she worked her magic and we followed each other on Instagram. He told me he’d DM me when he got to work (damn he makes a McDonald’s uniform look sexy). Don’t judge me. You’re judging me. But if you saw him you wouldn’t. When we were at Walmart he commented heart eyes on one of my pics then slid in my dm’s and asked for my #. I gave it to him and we’ve been texting. He’s real cute and sweet. Waiting on him to reply though wtf it was going good so him or his phone better be dead. Found out he doesn’t even go to our college but he be here. Probably I’m assuming he knows people. Also found out his name is J (using first initials only!) and he has a neck tattoo in the front center of his neck of a pair of dice and his name and apparently is in a gang and on probation with 4 charges. Okay daddy, I see you. It’s always the bad boys I have hella heart eyes for. If you’re not from the streets, I don’t want you. He looks like trouble, and trouble looks fine as hell. He told me to invite him to the next party here so you already know next weekend is about to be interesting. And he said he wants to chill with me on no fuck nigga shit sounding like a real MAN (M take note) and said I could even invite my friend Z to smoke and drink. So stay tuned because you already know whats up. But for right now, I need to go to bed and make sure I’m up and get to my classes.  It’s almost 1 am which means I should be downing coffee after coffee by breakfast. The life of a girl from the hood in a new hood, in college. 

xo babygirl hemingway

[purplesurveys]

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