#literally have friends who know girls who went to his undergrad college and he had a reputation there too 🫠🫠

[6ebe]

learning the hard way to not “platonically” go to events with men 🫠🫠🫠

[razziematazz]

yeah sexy bitches it’s extremely goofy headcanon time

(disclaimer: some of this would be specific to a human and/or modern au, because i love drawing them as humans, love the designs i gave them, and was not yet born in 2000- let alone conscious to remember anything about it. also i like giving them tails, even in the human au. this ended up being very long, so here’s a courtesy cut!)

max goof:

this man is BISEXUAL!!!!!!! he and roxanne were bi4bi, but they (mutually) broke up their senior year of highschool bc roxanne was moving for college across the country. after a bit of time, they went to just being close friends :3

speaking of college: we know that the goof family is poor. THEREFORE, i raise you: max is at college via a full ride scholarship. he worked his ASS off to be able to go to college without having to take out loans or “leech” from his dad, and it paid off!

he’s actually REALLY smart but a lot of people don’t know that bc “oh that’s some alt skater boy. he’s probably scraping by with a C average at best”.

he’s also the only reason bobby has passed any classes since junior year of hs

he came out to goofy the summer after he graduated high school. goofy cried bc he was so happy max trusted him enough with that and threw max 2 parties. he is the type of dad to buy max pride socks and wear a shirt that says “i love my gay son” for all of june. max is more than a little embarrassed, but overall? he loves his dad, and he’s really glad his dad loves him no matter what

idc what yall say he is NOT a little white boy as a human 😭😭😭 was literally jump scared the first time i saw him drawn white bc like i just thought it was agreed upon that he’s a POC

continuing with him as a human: yall will see this when i post my designs, but he’s pierced UP ‼️ he’s got snakebites he wears rings in (outwardly mimicking his buck teeth, since i draw the rings thick), both a madonna and monroe piercing, heavily gauged lobes, a double conch and double helix on his right ear, an industrial on his left, a right eyebrow piercing, and a tongue piercing. i also toyed w the idea of hip piercings but thinking abt dermal piercings makes me genuinely sick so

he also taught himself how to do piercings and pierced bobby’s lobe. a good half of his piercings were done at home. do not follow his example <3

(he tried to pierce his nipples and failed horribly, so he just took out the jewelry bc he was NOT having uneven nipples. this is based on one of my friend’s experiences!)

yall already KNOW he’s got that smudgy eyeliner look going on

that takes about 2 minutes. his hair, however, takes him a good 30! and an ungodly amount of hairspray.

his mom left when he was 5 and he barely remembers her

he and the goof troop became quick friends with tank after the x-games, and max definitely had a hand in tank giving bradley another chance

has a pet king snake and a pet tarantula! he got them when his powerline phase was still SUPER strong and named them both after him/his songs. whenever people ask him to explain their names, he gets lowkey embarrassed

got a matching trap stamp w bobby. peej was going to join too but he chickened out as soon as the needle touched down 😭

(the first time bradley accidentally caught a glimpse of max’s tramp stamp, he malfunctioned, fled the room, and had a crisis)

long, double coated black tail

bradley uppercrust III

closeted gay man

he’s the typical frat boy who’s been with a ton of girls, and he just kind of assumed that sex was a chore people went through and it was supposed to be be kind of unfulfilling for everyone

nah it’s just bc he wasn’t actually attracted to women 😭😭 he didn’t realize that he’s gay until his junior year of undergrad

(max and his stupid mouth full of stupid piercings that pours out stupid words and dumber retorts is what made him realize)

(he was literally like a little boy pulling on his crush’s pigtails and didn’t even realize it until about two weeks after the x-games, when he couldn’t stop thinking about how max still smiled at him and called off the bet afterwards)

on this topic: realizing he was gay caused an absolutely gigantic crisis, especially since he didn’t have a support system at all

(tank needed a lot of time to process everything, and even longer to begin forgiving bradley)

(speaking of that, while bradley was still officially the president of the gamma mu mu fraternity on paper [his dad paid everyone off], tank took over his position after the x-games. bradley was basically ostracized)

the main part of why his being gay was such a horrible realization for him is because his dad is the epitome of conservative. his mom believes queer people are just misled.

oh good lord, now it’s time to talk about his horrible father!!

as we’ve said, bradley’s dad is extremely homophobic. he’s the kind of guy to say spew absolutely every false “fact” or “statistic” and homophobic rhetoric anyone could have, and did this to bradley

he also put insane amounts of pressure on bradley

in the words of myself after watching a sad tiktok:

“[bradley is] so comphet and horrible neglectful parents who put far too much pressure on him core. he’s such a trust fund baby except the people who created that trust aren’t even in his life. he’s so simultaneously absent father and father who is constantly There, in his mind, judging him. he’s so internalized homophobia [because of this]”.

his father is definitely financially abusive btw

while he’s extremely rich, he threatens to take away any and all funding and shut down bradley’s cards at even the slightest hint of failure

being gay wouldn’t just get bradley’s funds cuts, though. it’d get him cut entirely from the family.

he’s meant to be perfect because he’s meant to be exactly like his dad and take over his dad’s place after retirement.

even one mistake would “warrant” his dad yelling at him for hours

bradley’s extreme daddy issues is what caused him to react so strongly to goofy saying “well clearly you don’t understand the bond between a father and son 🙄”

also bradley’s dad is the kind of guy to go for younger girls. he had four wives before bradley’s mom, but would leave them as soon as he found out his spawn was to be a girl instead of a boy. he needed a son to take on his “legacy”, and if they couldn’t provide that, they were worthless

and them being ~21 means they wouldn’t know any better

plus, he believes in the stupid “a woman’s prime childbearing years are 16-23 🤓” bs

so like even as he got older, he kept getting with women in that age range instead of those of his own

aka bradley’s mom was 21 and his dad 36 when they got married and had bradley within the same year.

on this note , bradley’s mom is.. not as bad

she holds the same values as his father, but isn’t nearly as extreme

she wouldn’t disown bradley for him being gay, but she would cry and cry because she thought it was a sign she failed as a mother. she’d beg him to “take it back”

to bradley, this is even worse than his father’s anger, since he was a mamas boy through and through.

she wouldn’t ever stand up to his dad, but even when he was young, bradley understood that it was out of fear

if she could get away with it, his mom would always comfort him after his dad’s outbursts

but if she was caught, his father would yell that all this soft treatment would turn him into a (slur i’m not comfortable saying!) and he needed to learn his lesson

all im gonna say is she blames herself

however, speaking of when bradley was young..

his mom has wavy/curly blonde hair

when he was young, he had the exact same hair as his mom

however, as he got older, his hair got darker

until it eventually became the same shade as his dad’s

bradley knew this made his mom a bit sad, but neither of them commented on it, because they both knew bradley was even more upset

it meant that he was now a near carbon copy of his father- minus his hair still being curly, and his lack of facial hair

however, when he got older and his hair became darker, his dad started pressuring him to straighten it, too

of course, he did, even though he hated it

… and at college, as a very subtle way of rebelling, he stopped straightening his hair until he had to see his father

anywayssss onto lighter headcanons!

(roxanne as well interlude !!)

bradley’s maternal uncle is married to roxanne’s maternal aunt!!

(this has absolutely zero basis btw 😭)

minus tank, roxanne was the closest friend to bradley growing up

his dad wasn’t really happy he was so close to a girl, but since roxanne is family, he let it slide; he’s supposed to be such a good family man, after all! it’s the uppercrust image!

anyways, as i said, they were super close

they would gravitate to each other every family get together (christmas, thanksgiving, etc) and would beg their parents to let them visit each other as often as possible

it was much more common for bradley to visit roxanne’s house than vice versa, since roxanne’s parents just have a feeling about bradley’s father. bradley had no issue with this at all

however.. max knew absolutely nothing about this!

whenever roxanne would say “sorry, i’ve got family over right now, i can’t hang out today”, he just wouldn’t question it

and bradley would passively listen to roxanne talk about her crushes, but since he couldn’t relate, it just sort of went into one ear and out the other

they also started to drift a bit during highschool

roxanne coming out to bradley was.. a lot. but he loves her, and knows she’s the best person he’s ever met, and so slowly, he begins to unlearn what his parents taught

roxanne is extremely proud (lol!) of bradley and bradley is.. feeling a lot of things, but he can’t say hate for others is one of them

for a long time, even when bradley was growing closer to the goof troop, winning back tanks everything, and accepting his feelings for max, roxanne was who bradley could always count on. she’s the person he came out to first, and he actually went to her for boy (max) advice multiple times 😭

she caught on quickly but didn’t mind at all

anyways, neither roxanne nor bradley knew that the other knows max- let alone that they eventually both date him

for the first time max is friends with bradley and roxanne comes back to spoonersville for christmas, max introduces them

except they already know each other.

and instead of “hello, im ___”, what he sees is them absolutely booking it towards each other with an “OH MY GODDDD!! HIIIII!! IT’S BEEN WAYYY TO LONG!! I HAVENT SEEN YOU IN, LIKE, 2 THANKSGIVINGS!!!!! HOWVE YOU BEEEN OMG WE NEED TO CATCH UP!!!!”

they both completely ignore max and he’s stood there absolutely DUMBFOUNDED

he is STUNNED

he is the EPITOME of ?!?!?!

bc what are the chances they know each other?? roxanne is NOTHING like the front bradley puts on, and her parents sure as hell aren’t millionaires

and what are the CHANCES max ends up not only having a crush on, but ends up DATING both?????

more roxanne: curled, medium-short haired, solid ginger tail

back to bradley

secretly loves it when max calls him brad instead of his full name

before max, no one had ever shortened his name

it feels like a separation from himself and the uppercrust name

it feels like he’s his own person, and not just an extension of his father- bradley uppercrust II

it takes him a good while and a few drinks to ever admit this, but afterwards, “brad” stops being only a teasing nickname- it has a new undercurrent of warmth

an everything shower takes him about 2 hours. he has very long, very specific skin care (both face and body), hair care, nail care, and grooming routines

these include the usages of no less than 30 different products

he has glasses but would rather wear contacts or just not be able to see than EVER wear them in public.

curled, very fluffy tail with a white bottom and tan top

(his dad forced him to always be in complete control of his tail; to never let it wag, never tuck it, anything. always hold it up high and steady)

(the only time he would let himself forgo these rules is when he was with only roxanne)

(the first time he felt the tell that his tail was about to wag when with max, he left IMMEDIATELY, and it took a while to unlearn all of this)

bobby zimmeruski

biggest stoner any of them have ever met

he’s high for the entirety of both movies

genuinely uses brainrot speak (rizz, sigma, gyatt, etc)

this spread to max, and eventually pj

…and when bradley caught himself thinking a brainrot word for the first time, he was absolutely MORTIFIED

he refuses to say the words.

however, beret girl is never infected!!

religious game grumps viewer

he tried to be a twitch streamer for like two days

pasty ass mf 😭😭

he has to wear spf100 every single time he goes outside in the summer or he WILL get 3rd degree sunburns

short and short-haired ginger tail

PJ

absolutely, 100% in love with bianca

im talking he’s already saving up for an engagement ring

(she would say yes in a heartbeat)

he stops wearing the beret he’s seen in at the end of the movie after a while

bianca assured him that, although she’s flattered, she’d love him just as much if he stayed the exact same as when they first met

his new found love of poetry is as genuine as can be tho

the designated driver for SURE

the “what the flip” to max’s “what the fuck” and bobby’s “what the sigma”

(PJ very rarely curses bc his dad does often. if yall didn’t know, his dad. erm. canonically sucks!! not as badly as bradley’s, but his dad is the “your kids should respect (FEAR) you” type)

has a short haired, black bobtail

beret girl

her name is bianca roan greene (b for beret, roan bc i like it, and g for girl)

she goes by roan bc i want her to escape being BG

(credit to Lian_mail on ao3 for the roan part!!)

also bi but leans heavily towards women

she’s a psychology major

she bonds with max over piercings bc she’s also got a few non-standard piercings!

she’s got double lobes, a helix, a forward helix, a conch and a daith on both sides

she wants a nose piercing but feels like, in regards to her future field of work, she’s already pushing her luck with all of the ear piercings

they’re partially why she wears her hair so long

by far the best at advice and the most level-headed out of the (extended, which includes her, roxanne, bradley, and tank) goof troop

has a long, smooth, long-haired tail the same color as her hair

[joonslfttiddie]

The Underclassman

💜Fic Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

💜AU/Genre: College AU | Smut | Potential Relationship

💜Warnings: Smut, femdom, male sub, climax denial, unprotected sex, ejaculation, virgin's first time

💜Rating: MA

💜Word Count: 4781

Senior year of undergrad has had its challenges but you know it's downhill from here. Having gotten a jump on your assignments, you're pretty much skating through until graduation. Your only obligations are your teaching assistant tasks for Dr. Yun's psychology class, your job at the bookstore, and a few organizations on campus.

While things have been chill regarding course work, this year has also shown you who has your best interest at heart and who is just a waste of space in your life. Depending on how you look at things, fortunately or unfortunately, that meant that your ex-boyfriend was one of the people to exit your world. The two of you had been together since freshman year, and it has not been easy adjusting to the single life.

You haven't been on a date since, and just looking at other men still feels wrong. Your ex was always the jealous, controlling type who made it hard to breathe, as you walked on eggshells around him, which made you feel powerless.

"Honestly, I never liked your ex. It felt like all of your time was owed to him... like he owned you. You deserve so much better than him."

Your friend, René, opens up to you during a night of chilling at your apartment, sitting in a circle, cross legged in the middle of your living room floor. Your other friends, Michelle and Ticole, just shake their heads in agreement before taking a sip of their beers.

"I know, I know. You're right. I can see now how devoted I was to him. I was willing to give him everything I had. Of course, we now know he was giving his time, amongst other things, to someone else...but it's whatever."

Michelle chimes in, "It is whatever. This is our senior year. I just want you to take your time to find yourself again. Get out! Date! Enjoy your hoe phase. Plus, my boyfriend's mentee asks me about you every time I see him. That boy is in love."

"Girl, who? Seokjin?! I catch him eyeing me every other day in Dr. Yun's class but he has yet to say anything to me sooooo....."

"Don't do him like that...He is so sweet but so shy. He's one of those guys that's hot but doesn't know he's hot."

You all erupt into laughter and as the excitement subsides you agree.

"You're right, he is so cute but I never really looked at him like that. He has been such a sweetheart every time I've interacted with him but I dunno if he's my type, you know? Hell, he still refers to me as 'ma'am', like, I literally only have a couple of years on him, if that."

"He mentioned to Chance that he was not the best looking guy in high school. He was bullied because he was so skinny, had bad acne, braces, and glasses.. the usual "nerd" package. I, legit, don't think he realizes that puberty has come and gone. I wonder if he just doesn't have the confidence to approach you."

"Hmm... that would make sense. I hate that he went through all that. He seems so sweet despite being mistreated. I'll think about it, ok? But as far as 'enjoying my hoe phase' goes, guys fuck around all the time and no one bats an eye. I hate the double standard. I'm going to have the time of my life for the rest of the year. I deserve it, plus I've been horny as fuck, lately."

"Girl, go for it! I support this. Live your best life, friend. You've missed out on a lot being tied down like a married woman. Go get you some. And you never know, having that underclassman screaming 'yes, ma'am' may be just what you need!" Ticole says, co-signing with Michelle.

You all erupt into a fit of laughter at that and you take notice of the way your body feels from just imagining it. As heat burns up your spine and your pussy tingles, you swallow spit as you're basically salivating with excitement. Knowing what will make for some good material when you're alone later, you reply with a nervous chuckle, "Maybe, huh?"

Your girls were right! You're going to start putting yourself out there and try to be more open minded. After a restful night and having used mental images of Seokjin to gain a little post nut clarity, you begin to think that you may even explore people outside of your typical type. Internalizing all the encouragement your girls provided last night, you walk to Dr. Yun's class feeling like the baddest bitch on campus.

After taking attendance, you make a mental note that Seokjin isn't here yet. He never misses class but you shrug it off for the moment to continue your duties. You remind the students of upcoming assignments, schedule a few tutoring sessions, and answer any questions to the best of your knowledge until the professor arrives moments later. He hands you a stack of handouts and asks you to make copies since he hadn't gotten a chance to while the class takes a quiz. You grab your phone from the desk and slide it in the pocket of your cardigan before swiftly proceeding down the hall to the printer.

You turn the corner, finding yourself colliding with a student who is frantically rushing to class, landing you on your ass surrounded by the papers you were carrying, you quickly adjust your clothes as your skirt has flipped up, putting your lace undies on full display.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? I woke up late and can't be late for class. I have a quiz today."

You recognize that voice immediately and look up to see Seokjin. He quickly tries to collect the paperwork as he chatters, taking a moment to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

'He couldn't have seen that, right?'

"Hey! No worries, Seokjin, I can get this. Go ahead... they're just about to begin."

After hearing his name cross your lips, he finally looks up to see your face. With a gasp, you notice his ears flush red before he responds.

"Miss y/n! I'm so sorry! Are you sure you're okay?" He pulls you up to your feet with one hand, allowing you to further adjust your clothing before handing you the papers he'd collected.

"Yes, I'm fine. Hurry up and go. Good luck!"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, thank you. I'm so sorry."

Seokjin smiles nervously before he rushes past you towards the classroom.

You make the copies and begin heading back to class, unable to stop replaying the incident with Seokjin. Has he always been so cute? So tall? Shoulders that broad? Biting your bottom lip, you recall the way his hair hung just above his eyes and his full pink lips slightly parted when he gasped from the shock of your accident. He looked so nerdy behind those glasses, but his brown eyes were breathtaking.

'Why am I just seeing him now... like really SEEING him?!'

You're thinking about all of this as you make the copies, sure that you hadn't noticed Seokjin's beauty for being so committed to you ex. You were blind for so long but now your eyes are wide open.

Back in the classroom, you quietly place the stack of papers on the desk, glancing up to see the student's working busily. Once you take your designated spot next to Dr. Yun's desk, you cross your legs and begin looking through the rows of seats until you spot him. Hunching over his desk and bouncing his foot restlessly, the poor guy looks so anxious. The sight leaves him looking so small and helpless, though he is definitely a deliciously full grown adult.

You glance away for a second but can't help the smirk that creeps across your face when you catch him suddenly still, sitting erect in his seat as his eyes trace your up legs all the way up to your thighs peeking from under your skirt. After making sure everyone else was focused on their work, you put your leg down and part your knees, now purposely exposing yourself to him. He licks his lips, then his eyes meet yours. Snapping your legs shut, you look down, covering your smile as you snicker to yourself. His nervous behavior commences as his gaze quickly snaps back down to his quiz, but not before you notice his face and ears turn a pretty shade of pink. What is this new feeling? You are not certain but you are 100% sure that you love it. You want more.

A couple of days have passed since literally running into Seokjin when you find yourself at work refolding the campus tees on one of the display tables, you glance at your watch to see it's almost time for you to clock out. It's been beautiful weather all day, despite what the weather channel said, but you can see the sky getting darker and you can hear thunder in the distance.

"It looks like the rain has finally made it," you warn your coworker. "Get home safely!"

Thankfully you check the weather every morning before leaving your campus apartment and was wise enough to bring your umbrella.

You grab your things from your locker in the employee lounge after clocking out. Once outside, you make it halfway across the yard to the fountain in the middle of the quad before you feel the first few sprinkles of rainfall. You stop to arm yourself with your umbrella before continuing your trek across campus as the bottom falls out of the sky. It is pouring now as you cross the street nearing your place, and you notice a familiar figure walking ahead of you.

He's soaking! He doesn't have an umbrella or even a jacket to keep him warm. You can tell that he's cold by the way he burrows into himself. The ripples of his back muscles are accentuated through his wet, white tee shirt as he hugs himself.

"SEOKJIN!"

He stops and turns towards you after hearing his name.

"Miss y/n? What are you doing out in this storm?"

You hold up the umbrella to cover you both.

"I'm just leaving work and on my way home. What are you doing out? And why don't you have a jacket on or an umbrella?"

He smiles shyly.

"Ummm...I didn't know it was going to rain today so I'm unprepared. I was going to the cafe to grab a bite before studying but it started to storm so I turned back."

"You poor thing. Why don't you come up to my place until the rain stops? I haven't eaten yet, either, so I can whip something up for us to eat."

"Uhhh...are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude. Plus, I only live a ways down from here."

Linking your arm in his, you continue to shield you both from getting wet while pulling him alongside you.

"It's no intrusion, I promise. Since it's Friday, my roommate has gone to her boyfriend's place, so I could use the company."

You smile at each other as he takes the umbrella to hold above you and continue to chat as you make your way up the stairs leading to your door. When you step inside, you ask that he stay at the door where there's tile as he's still dripping wet.

"Just stay there for a second. You're soaked. I know there's a towel in here somewhere."

After a moment of searching through the hamper of fresh laundry you hadn't gotten a chance to put away before work, you finally find a towel and hand it to him after he's secured the umbrella strap and placed it in the corner.

"Thanks, Miss y/n. I really appreciate your kindness."

"Of course! We've known each other for years now. You're not exactly a stranger at this point, so it's no problem at all. While you're drying your hair, I'll go see if my roommate's boyfriend may have left some clothes here. You guys are about the same size. Go ahead and get out of those clothes before you catch a cold."

This wouldn't be the first time you've seen a man undress so you're not thinking much about what you just said and rush off to your roommates bedroom to find a large tee shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. You stay frozen for a second as the situation suddenly catches up to you. You and Seokjin are alone in your apartment and he's undressing in the other room. Ticole's words echo in your mind. 'Get you some!' Michelle's voice lingers closely behind. 'Enjoy your hoe phase!'

'Am I really thinking about this now?! Does he even think of me in THAT way? He seems so innocent, I don't want to be a bad influence or take advantage of him.

You continue to stand there, contemplating your next move. Sure, he is extra dorky at first glance, but when you really look at him, you see now that he is fine as fuck. He, also, doesn't talk to a lot of people so you know he's not sleeping around and he will be discreet about what happens. This could be a good thing, if he's willing, of course. You take a deep breath before you leave the room, only to walk out and see Seokjin wearing nothing but his jeans and sneakers. You gasp at the sight, hoping he didn't hear you. Sure, you knew he would be undressing but you didn't expect that body to be under those clothes. God definitely took his time sculpting him to perfection.

When he looks up to see you've returned, he shyly covers himself with the wet shirt and towel leaving his free hand grasping his spectacles across his chest. There's that feeling again...the one you experienced during class the other day. You clear your throat and walk over to him to give him the clothes, trying your best not to stare.

"M-miss y/n. I-"

"Oh... sorry! I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. Here are the clothes. I can step out for a second."

Reluctantly, he drops the shirt and towel to the floor by his side but his other hand holding on to his glasses remains across his chest as he reaches for the outfit.

Just above a whisper, he asks, "I've been meaning to talk to you. Are you ok? You know from the other day? I was hoping you weren't hurt and I wanted to apologize again. And no, I'm not uncomfortable, you know? I just...I."

"No, I'm completely fine, I promise. And it's no problem at all. I'll step out to give you some privacy."

"Miss y/n."

"Hmm?" You pause to look up to him, awaiting his response.

"You don't have to leave. I don't want you to leave, I just..."

The look on his face teeters on the cusp of pain and embarrassment.

"What's up? You look like there's something else you want to tell me."

"Miss y/n."

"Stop calling me that, though. I'm only a couple years older than you."

"Y-y/n?" He pauses for a moment to see if he's overstepped. When you continue to look into his chocolate colored pupils, he continues speaking. "I've never done this before."

"Done what?"

He leans over to place the clothes on the end table putting his glasses on top. He stands back to face you, taking your wrist in his hand. His eyes bounce from your eyes to your lips, then back. You can see he's nervous as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"What do you want to do, Sweet Boy? Do you want to kiss me?"

The nickname and the question causes his eyes to widen, the reddish hue of his ears and cheeks deepen.

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, ma'am. I want to kiss you so bad."

"Good boy. Go ahead, kiss me."

He hesitates, standing straight and still, your small wrist still gripped in his hand. He's looking into your eyes as if searching to see if you're serious. After what feels like forever, he tilts his head to the side and leans in, only to pull back. Shifting his head in the opposite direction, he leans in again only to pull away. He continues this for a moment, unsure of how to approach you. This would usually be a huge turn off for you but with him it's different. His uncertainty and timidness seems to just stir you on.

"Kiss me."

Your sudden command startles him slightly and he quickly leans in, placing his mouth against yours, bumping your lip with his teeth. He pulls back quickly as if he were burned. Patiently, you take his hands, placing one on the small of your back and the other at your nape. Taking a step forward, your body now flush to his, you can hear his breath shuttering. His very prominent bulge presses against your stomach as you place one hand on his exposed chest and snake your arm around his neck.

"Don't rush. I'm not going anywhere. Take your time and try again."

Slowly this time, he moves in to softly press his lips to yours before he pulls away, the smooch audible. You gently pull him back, slowly beginning to move your mouth against his, licking and sucking at his lips. When your tongue brushes against his, he whimpers aloud, grasping your shirt into his fist. Pulling back, you look up to check in on him. The dorky Seokjin is barely visible under the haze of lust now surrounding him. He bends down, taking your lips again. Mimicking your actions from before, he licks and sucks at your bottom lip before grazing your tongue with his own. Slightly taken aback by the feeling, you pull back to regain control of this situation. When he releases you, you step back and can feel the coldness of your shirt against your skin, now wet from being pressed against him.

"That was so good, Baby. You did good. Would you like to take the rest of those wet clothes off?"

"Yes, ma'am."

You smile at how quickly he's catching on. Still standing at the entrance of your place, Seokjin begins to toe off his shoes which squish with every movement. Sliding them to the side with his foot, he begins to unbutton his jeans, hands noticeably trembling. You're unsure if he's still cold or if he's nervous so you decide to check in again.

"Are you ok? Do you want to stop?"

"Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am... I'm ok. I don't want to stop, I'm just c-cold."

"Take those off and follow me...let's get you warmed up."

Removing your now moist shirt, you begin walking down the hallway to your bedroom. Seokjin watches as your hips sashay and your ass jiggles with every step you take. He continues to peel the wet jeans from his body. Now, wearing only his boxer briefs, he follows the route he just watched you take. Inside of your bedroom, he finds you already in bed, clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor. He bashfully makes his way to the edge of the bed, awaiting further instruction.

"Aren't those wet, too? Don't you think you should take them off?"

"Are you sure you're ok with this? With me?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be? Take them off, Sweet Boy, and come here."

When he pulls them down, you have to hide the shock that overcomes you. His dick looks so thick and heavy. Your heart begins to race in anticipation. Once he's completely naked, you pull the covers back as an invitation for him to climb in. He seems reluctant, trying and failing to cover his manhood behind his hands.

"Seokjin, baby...we don't have to do anything you aren't ready for. I won't be upset and I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do."

"NO! It's not that. I want this, I want this with you. But, like I mentioned, I've never done this before...I'm a virgin. Shit, you just gave me my first kiss. I'm sorry...I should have told you sooner. I'll just leave. I don't want to embarrass myself and waste your time."

"Awww, Baby. It's ok! I don't care that you're a virgin. I want you to stay but only if you want to stay."

"Yes, ma'am, I do."

"I promise to be patient. I'm not here to judge you. I won't rush you so just take your time. Would you like for me to teach you?"

He nods his head in agreement.

"Have you ever heard of a 'safeword'?"

"Is it a word we would use to indicate that we are uncomfortable with something?"

"That's exactly what it is. If either of us say or do anything that the other doesn't like, we'll use that word. The other has to stop immediately."

"Ok...what should it be? Could we use Adler?"

You laugh out loud at his cuteness. "Ok... that's fine with me, but why did you choose that?"

"I don't know. His theory was the last thing I looked at when I was studying for Professor Yun's test earlier. It's the first thing that popped into my head," he laughs bashfully while still trying to cover his manhood.

"Adler it is. You can lay with me whenever you feel ready."

With that reassurance, he places his trust in you, removes his hands, and climbs into the sheets. Covering your bodies under the plush blanket, you pull him closer to share your body heat. Resting your head on one hand, you caress his smooth skin with the other. His body continues to tremble but not from the cold this time. Your touch is sending electricity through his core leaving his skin slightly clammy and his breathing shallow and quick.

"I've seen the way you stare at me in class. Do you like me, baby?"

His expression looks as if he'd been caught red handed.

"Y-yes, ma'am. Yes, I do."

"Have you thought about being close with me like this? In bed with me? Touching my naked body?"

His breath hitches in his throat before he answers the same as before.

"Y-y...Yes, ma'am."

"Do you ever touch yourself when you think of me? Does the thought of me make you cum, baby?"

You're practically whispering at this point, inches from his ear. Your hand travels down his abs then along his thigh, skipping the tented area where he needs and wants your touch the most. His erection jerks from the excitement, his body spasms, and his shallow breaths now deepen as he whimpers and moans under your touch. You know he's fighting for his life at this moment but you decide to press him for an answer.

"Did you hear my question? Answer me, Seokjin."

Still inaudible minus his tiny whimpers, he nods his head frantically in agreement.

"I can't hear you. Are you not going to answer me? Do you know what happens to bad boys who don't follow directions? They get punished."

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly in anticipation of what you'll do next. As he clenches his teeth, you can see the muscles along his jawline flex.

"Bad boy," you say softly, pulling the blanket off of him to reveal his hardness. His dick is so firm making his skin look extra smooth but painfully red. The precum leaking from his slit indicates he's enjoying this torture. "Show me. Show me how you jerk yourself off when you're in your room thinking about me."

You sit up briefly to grab the almond oil you'd left on your nightstand this morning after moisturizing your legs. Opening the cap, you pour a bit on the head of his dick and watch as it drizzles down his shaft along the contours of his veins.

"Show me, bad boy. Let me see."

His hand tremors as he brings it up to fist himself. Using his thumb, he distributes the oil and precum over his tip before slowly gliding down his rod. He grunts and gasps as his abs contract, lifting his head from the pillow slightly. He moves his fist back up to the top, barely touching himself.

"Look at me, Seokjin."

He opens his eyes, though they are hooded and lazy. Your heart flutters at the sight. He holds eye contact and his plush lips part as his pants, ready to receive his punishment.

"Squeeze tighter. Imagine my tight pussy slowly sliding down your dick. I'm so wet and juicy."

Following your instruction, he applies more pressure. Still looking into your eyes, his brows furrow as if begging for more. He begins to pick up speed as he's almost there.

"Slowly. Rub your thumb over the tip."

And he does, slowly smearing more precum over the head of his penis. You can tell that he's close to the edge. You allow him to stroke himself a few more times before you grab his wrist, stopping him.

"I want you inside of me. I want you begging me to let you cum."

You grab your phone before moving back towards him. Straddling his hips as he looks at you with a dumbfounded expression. You lift up onto your knees and guide him into you.

"Oh, oh, oh, y/n! Oh! OH!"

He is a mess as you slowly lower your soaking wet pussy to sit flush onto his lap.

"What a nice seat. I think I'll sit here for a while. Don't move."

You unlock your device and start to scroll through your Instagram feed as you're perched motionless with his dick buried deep inside of you. He feels so good and it's a challenge for you to remain still, sitting in this dominant role. You look up to see him looking up to you. The slight chuckle that leaves your lips causes your walls to tighten briefly around him. His whimpers cause you clench even more. He hisses and grabs your hips, sinking his nails into your skin. Simultaneously, he pulls you down as he grinds up to burrow deeper into you. You swallow your moan, unwilling to relinquish your newfound power. You lean forward to firmly grab his chin, bringing his eyes up to yours.

"I said...Be. Still," you whisper. You leave him heaving as you continue to scroll on your phone, putting on as if you're not ready to ride him off the cliff of ecstasy. His little pleas making it harder to act.

"Hmmm...Pleeeease! I c-can't. Y-y/n, please. I can't... can't hold it anymore."

"You can't hold it? Do you need to use the word, baby."

His brows are winkling tighter, sweat pecking at his forehead and chest. You adjust yourself, purposely lifting your body only to follow the trail of moisture you've left smeared on his dick to sit back down.

"N-no... I can't. I can't hold it, y/n! A-ADLER!"

"Go ahead, baby. Let it go."

With your permission, he grips you tighter and pounds into you. Seokjin bares and grinds his teeth, his grunts becoming louder with every stroke. He controls himself for as long as he can, lasting for approximately ten seconds before he explodes, painting your walls with his cum. He feels so amazing, you to want to continue to move. His whining grows louder as his sensitivity increases. Stopping for a moment to allow him to catch his breath, you push the hairs stuck to his forehead away and caress his cheek.

"Are you ok, babe?" Your voice sounds so loving, laced with tenderness.

Seokjin opens his eyes to look at you before he replies, "Yes, ma'am. I'm ok...more than ok. That was better than any of my daydreams, better than I could have ever imagined. You feel so good, so warm, so wet. You look so beautiful sitting on me like this. Thank you so much for this experience."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. You're doing so well."

"But you are too sexy, I couldn't restrain myself. The nickname you called me... the way you spoke to me... your dominance. Whew! But, I came way too fast, I'm so sorry. I wasn't able to pleasure you."

Looking at him, you can see that he's oozing with confidence. Confidence you're sure he's unaware that he carries. You both continue conversing as he softly traces tiny circles on your calves with his fingertips.

"Stop that...you're being too hard on yourself. You did great and this was your first time! You'll get better the more you do it. And you feel amazing, by the way. You just have to learn what to do and gain more experience."

"Ummm... could you help me with that, y/n?"

"Of course, Sweet Boy, I would love to help you with that."

He blushes and chuckles a little with a voice that sounds deeper than you remember. "Really?! Thank you so much, y/n. I never would have imagined I'd be able to be here with you, like this. I'm, literally, the luckiest man alive. Also... I am still inside of you but the way you're looking at me, well, I'm getting hard again. What should I do?"

You can't contain your laugher at his innocence.

"Well, baby, you just came. Now it's my turn."

"Yes ma'am... just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it. Anything you want. I want to learn how to please you."

[greenlikethesea]

Hiiiiiii I am here in reference to your previous post for a director’s commentary on old wives tales???? Like as much or as little of it as you want, lol, I love Fair Ithilien and I LOVE listening to you and sparklyslug talk about the conception and writing of the series!!!! And old wives takes was SO GOOD I literally think about it all. The. Time.

hello my friend! happy to answer! <3 @sparklyslug please feel free to tag in at any point!!! this turned into a novel, sorry y'all --

more about erica's character will be expanded upon as we work on the series more, but i definitely am happy to tell you a few things that i had in mind as i was writing old wives' tales:

i absolutely love the sinclairs as a family and i love erica especially. i love this girl who is all hard edges where lucas is softness and sensitivity, the head where lucas is the heart. she and steve are probably canonically the most genre savvy of the bunch, built to be the final girl.

eddie is her fucking achilles heel.

she's about thirteen when she realizes that the bubbling feeling in her stomach when he smiles at her is not just the need to one-up him, not just the need to prove that she's the best, but another thing entirely -- the thrill of seeing slivers of skin, his tattoos that are so dark against his pale skin. i think she tells him, after steve's wedding when dancing with him felt like floating somewhere in space, but before eddie leaves for california, in the fall of 1989. she knows it'll never go anywhere, knows that it's doomed, thinks he's going to be mean because that's the rapport they have. ribbing, teasing. he's the big brother (sort of, kind of, lucas is like fucking annoying and screams like a girl and erica wants to drown in eddie's eyes, gross, disgusting) and she's the kid sister.

he lets her down so gently. takes her hand and looks directly into her eyes with those fucking cow eyes that make her want to die and speaks so softly. thank you for telling me. it takes a lot of guts to say something like that. and it's an honor. i guess i ought to tell you something too, right? in exchange. a lord for a lady. he takes her out for milkshakes, and they talk for hours, and she finds out why he's never had a girlfriend, why he's never even looked at a girl in the whole time she's known him.

"does lucas know?" she asks.

he shakes his head. "i'll tell him eventually, probably. but i think you deserve absolutes."

erica, after everything in hawkins, goes the nancy wheeler route of getting some physical distance between herself and the utter mess that was her time growing up in indiana (with both eddie and max's encouragement -- max, who is her fucking hero and her favorite of all of lucas' girlfriends, even after all these years). she gets a full ride to spelman college in atlanta (sue sinclair went there, and she wants to form friendships with other fierce, whip smart, assertive young Black women). she outgrows her parents' more conservative leanings, gets more than a little radical left, kisses a girl or two just to make sure she's straight (she is, and she's a little bummed about it, to be perfectly honest). loses her virginity to a guy from georgia state she met while organizing a protest against planned public transit cuts and, for some reason that she cannot fathom, calls steve's house phone at 2am to tell him. as mentioned, he takes it very well; they do not speak of it again not because he's embarrassed, but because she's mortified at how well he takes it. while she's a little bit closer to eddie than she is to steve (and steve's hot, anyone who is remotely attracted to men would agree), she and steve still keep in fairly regular contact.

charles, sue, and lucas all urge her to take a break after undergrad, but nope, erica has never done anything by half, so she goes to emory. she meets antonio, a pretentious, snotty rich boy from a prominent marietta family at a first year mixer and it's loathing at first sight -- so naturally, they have all of their classes together. it's very much a beatrice and benedick situation in which, of course, they're madly in love with each other and everyone in their cohort is placing bets on when they're just gonna do the damn thing already. ugh, so annoying.

eddie and erica stay really close. in the whole eddie and steve song and dance, erica mostly stays the fuck out of it. she likes megan, thinks she's smart and funny and interesting, but she clocks the resemblance between her and eddie immediately, and is one of the first people to pick up on things going south. while outwardly she's switzerland, she's a sucker for the long game, and is very much gunning for everyone involved in that situation to have something, like, remotely resembling what she and antonio have.

erica and antonio have a very long engagement while they both establish their careers in gary -- antonio is estranged from his parents and gets a placement there and erica figures it'd be good to be closer to her family anyway. they tie the knot in april 2003, and their son, leon edward powers (and oh, how eddie cried!) is born on august 14, 2008, steve's 42nd birthday.

(when they finally get married, steve and eddie have been together for a little over a year. she's having a moment by herself, taking a breather from the frankly exhausting rigamarole of greeting every single person she's ever met. eddie gently taps her on the shoulder. "right behind you. may i have this dance?"

and god, in another life, in another world, in some other dimension that isn't the one crawling with eldritch abominations -- but just a fantasy, really, so grateful it isn't real -- he would be her husband. she's floated there from time to time over the years, a safe dream in her mind when things got tough in school, at work, in the raw moments just after fights with antonio, but she's happy to leave it behind.

"you snagged a good one, littlest sinclair," eddie says, pressing a kiss against her forehead. embarrassment and joy duke it out inside her, but she kicks that mortification to the curb for just this moment. she can have feelings. her husband, her wonderful, impossible husband, who is currently arm wrestling lucas over by the dessert table, taught her that. but eddie planted that seed, the suggestion that she deserves to be loved exactly as she is, prickly and strange and a little raw, but wholly worth it.

"yeah," she says. she did.)

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Chaconne (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: You are an aspiring concert violinist who attends an audition for the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra, under the new direction of famous conductor Agatha Harkness

Word Count: 4.2K

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBNquKkKcF4

A/N: Hello! This is an AU fic heavily inspired by one of my favorite tv shows Mozart In The Jungle. This is going to be at least 3 more chapters, and I already have the second part done so it should be uploaded by the weekend. Also, I added a link to the piece that is heavily mentioned throughout this fic. It’s not necessary to listen to it before reading (or at all haha), I just thought I’d add it in for anyone curious :) Hope y’all enjoy! Please let me know what you think, and my inbox is always open for any questions. Also: I do not own Mozart In The Jungle...Jeff Bezos please do not sue me. 

You rushed through the bustling streets of Manhattan, silently cursing yourself for not getting a cab. Not that it would’ve made much of a difference; rush hour in the city was horrendous no matter what form of transportation you chose. But at least you would have been sitting in an air conditioned car and not running through the crowded streets. You tightened your grip on your violin case as you hurried across the street, destination clear in your mind.

You had been finishing up your final private lesson of the day when you received a call from one of your old college friends. They informed you to drop everything you were doing, not literally because that would include your very expensive and very fragile violin, and hurry down to symphony hall because one of the first violinists in the Manhattan Symphony had sprained her wrist and they were holding open auditions.

A part of you knew the odds of being selected from hundreds of the best violinists in one of the most affluent cities for music was slim to none, but you also knew you had to take this chance. It’s what you had been working so hard towards during undergrad and grad school, and it would be nice to have a more...stable job. The Manhattan Symphony Orchestra was one of the greatest and well respected orchestras in the world, and you would kill to earn a chair.  

You ran faster than you had in months, and made a mental note to add more cardio to your basically nonexistent workout regime because wow, you were out of shape. Rounding the corner, you quickly dodged running into other pedestrians and could see symphony hall a block away. Despite the burning in your lungs begging you to stop running like a mad woman, you picked up the pace and sprinted to the building.

Ever since you started playing the violin you swore to anyone who would listen that you would play in the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra. Your siblings would always ask for concert tickets to see their favorite band, or sporting tickets, but you always begged your parents to take you to the symphony. While your siblings hated it and complained how long and boring it was (and the outrage that they weren’t allowed to bring food inside), you were enraptured by the entire experience.

You fell in love with the sounds of Dvorak, Beethoven, Brahms, and Tchaikovsky. Sitting in the concert hall you waited in anticipation to watch the musicians who had spent their entire lives preparing for that moment; to pour every ounce of their soul into their instruments. Ever since the moment you stepped inside your first concert hall at the young age of five, you knew this is where you wanted to spend the rest of your life.

Shaking those thoughts aside you hurried through the building to where the blind auditions were being held. You silently thanked whatever genius came up with the idea of a blind audition, because you were a mess after running over twelve blocks from your apartment. Following the signs on the walls, you found the warm up room, but was surprised to find everyone packing up.

There were over a dozen people of various ages, and you noticed one of them crying. A woman around your age noticed your disheveled appearance and sighed. “If you’re here for the blind auditions, they were cancelled.”

You felt your heart drop. “What? Did they already find someone?”

“No, because the new conductor is a total psycho,” Someone else said angrily. “She kept yelling about how we’re all wasting her time and she’d rather have her pet rabbit play New World Symphony.” He motioned to the girl who was sobbing. “And she told Megan her tone was so bad that she would personally throw her violin into a wood chipper so no one would have to suffer through her performing again.”

The new conductor he was referring to was one of your favorites. Agatha Harkness. She was beloved throughout the music community and had many fans, but you had heard rumors of her hard work ethic and ability to make people cry in under a minute. You thought back to your undergrad violin lessons where one of your professors told you that your tone while playing Mendelssohn sounded like a dying donkey. Musicians were often times very blunt.

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“A bit?” The guy rolled his eyes. “This job isn’t worth it. I’m going to audition for the second violin chair in Iowa. It might not be as great of an orchestra but at least their conductor isn’t the devil incarnate.”

As the others continued to pack up, you still felt your gut twisting at what could have been. Feeling rejected, you left the room and saw the back entrance to the stage open. From a quick glance around it appeared the hallway was deserted, so you quickly ran through the door, violin case still in hand.

Time came to a stand still as you walked on stage and stared into the seemingly empty concert hall. You dreamt about this moment more times than you cared to admit. There was something so peaceful about being on stage. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and pictured a scene you had spent years dreaming about. Realizing the opportunity to play in this hall wouldn’t likely come again, you made the split decision to open your violin case.

Staring at your violin, you briefly wondered if this was a good idea. But, you silently argued that no one else was around, and besides, you did run half a mile to get here. It would be a waste to not play and appreciate the gorgeous acoustics. Plus you could feel your fingers aching to play something, anything, to let out the feelings of  disappointment from missing the auditions.

Gently pulling out your bow, you applied a generous amount of rosin before grabbing your violin. You took a few minutes to tune, and the moment your bow hit the strings you felt a shiver at how the sound bounced off the walls. You went through a condensed version of your normal warm up and played a few different scales before debating on what piece to play.

Although your friend had briefly explained the audition would be sight reading and then playing excerpts from Dvorak’s New World Symphony, the auditions were over and you wanted to play something else. It wasn’t the flashiest piece, or one of the better known violin concertos, but it felt right. Vitali’s Chaconne arranged by Charlier. You had originally learned the gorgeous piece during your junior year of undergrad for a concerto competition and it had quickly become a favorite.

Clearing your mind of everything but the music, you closed your eyes and began to play. Your bow swept across the string, producing the opening g-minor chord. The melodic sound rang through the empty hall and you felt your heart ache at how good this felt. It had been a while since you had the time to play this piece, but it was like it had been no time at all. Your fingers danced across the strings and you felt all the uneasiness leave your body.

While this wasn’t the most complex piece you had ever played, it required your full attention. The chaconne was structured as a simple sixteen bar phrase that was rephrased and dallied up with different techniques and melodies which made it easy enough to memorize, but hard enough that you needed to focus on the pattern your fingers made.

With every movement of your bow, every run you made up and down the fingerboard, you were letting out the pain and sadness you felt radiating through your body. It was hard to put into words how playing the violin made you feel, but the best explanation you had come up with was that it was your salvation. There was no sweeter medicine than performing. No matter how out of control life was, how bad things got, your solution was turning to music. It saved you.

As you neared the end of the piece, you felt your bow arm gently ache and you knew you had to have complete focus if you were going to hit the upcoming octave slides that led to the double stops of doom. Octaves were never a violinist’s favorite technique, and they were your own personal kryptonite. You had rather tiny hands, which made the stretch from your index to your pinky rather difficult on a good day. You changed the position of your hand to make the reach to hit the upper octave, but briefly winced when you realized you had fallen flat on the lower note.

You ended with a flourish of your bow on the final g-minor chord and let out the breath you had been holding in. You stood there for a moment, soaking in the afterglow of your performance and enjoying the quiet that radiated throughout the spacious room. Just as you went to clean off your violin and leave before you got kicked out, you heard the sound of slow clapping from within the hall. The hall was dimmed and you saw a figure sitting far up in the upper rows. The mystery figure continued clapping and they stood up and walked down the steps towards the stage. There in all her glory stood Agatha Harkness, the newest conductor of the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra.

“Not bad, but your octave slides could use some touching up,” Agatha offered as she stood at the bottom of the stage. “You tend to go flat on the lower notes.”

You felt your breath hitch as you saw the famous, and apparently very scary, conductor staring at you. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still here.”

“Ah so you aren’t here for the auditions?” Agatha questioned, arching an eyebrow up at you. “What are you doing here then, breaking and entering? I’d hate to have to call security on you.”

“What? No, no I’m not...” You stammered, feeling your cheeks turn red. “I came for the auditions but I was told they were cancelled.”

Agatha laughed, and you noticed how it was more of a cackle. “They were. But believe me dear, I’m sure you would have done the same if you were in my shoes.”

“One of them said you threatened to throw their violin in a wood chipper. Isn’t that a little mean?” You pointed out.

“You did not have to listen to that imbecile butcher the opening of Mendelssohn,” Agatha argued, folding her hands across her chest. “Throwing her violin in a wood chipper would be the least I could do to ensure no one else suffers hearing that disgrace of a sound ever again.”

You stifled a giggle that threatened to escape. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Agatha waved her hand in the air. “Maybe. But you,” she pointed a finger at you, intrigue colored her features. “You were good. Vitali’s Chaconne is a personal favorite of mine. Everyone always chooses to play Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D Major, or Mendelssohn, or Brahms, or something big and flashy. I’ve always preferred a more subdued piece like Vitali. Violinists don’t take enough time to appreciate the beauty of a chaconne.”

You stared at her in disbelief. Almost no one had even heard of Vitali’s Chaconne, but she did and it was her favorite. “Thank you, Miss Harkness. I-“

“Ah ah ah,” Agatha waved a finger to silence you. “I’m not finished. You were good, but not great. Your octave slides were flat. Your bow hold is giving me a headache, you need to relax more. Your vibrato is too fast, we need to work on slowing it down. Didn’t your teacher ever tell you that? And don’t even get me started on your opening chord.” She eyed the younger woman before continuing. “But despite all that, you have promise.”

You were speechless. She wasn’t yelling at you? “You think I have promise?”

Agatha nodded. “Which is why I’m offering you a job.”

“I got the position?” You smiled. “I can’t believe it.”

Agatha’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not ready to play with the Manhattan Symphony.”

“But you said you were offering me a job,” you repeated the words of the older woman.

“And I am. As my personal assistant,” Agatha explained as if it was the most obvious answer.

“You want me to be your assistant?” You said in disbelief. “Miss Harkness I’m not so sure if I’m qualified-“

Agatha cut you off again. “If you’re serious about being a violinist, especially being a violinist in my orchestra, we need to work on your technique. Natural talent only gets you so far my dear.” She shrugged. “And I may have just fired my newest assistant for being entirely incompetent.”

“I don’t know what to say,” You admitted. This certainly isn’t how you expected your day to go.

“I’m not going to force you to work for me, dear,” Agatha drawled out. “You can walk right out that door and continue on with your presumably simple and boring life.”

“And if I stay?” You prompted, already knowing what you were going to choose.

Agatha slowly walked up the steps of the stage and approached you. “Well then I’ll have my work cut out for me. As will you, darling. I’ll be working you quite hard.” You blushed at her suggestive tone and she smirked at your reaction. “Blushing already? I’ve barely even started.”

You cleared you throat before nodding. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Then let’s get started.” Agatha smirked. “This is going to be fun. Now, let’s take it from the top.”

Working for Agatha was interesting. She was very hard to read, and you could never tell if she was mad at you or if she was just in a mood. You had spent the past few weeks helping her prepare for the first symphony rehearsal of the season. Granted you weren’t doing much to help, all she was asking you to do was make copies of parts and to organize folders for each section.

Today was different. You entered the mostly empty building with a drink holder containing two cups of coffee in one hand and your violin case in the other when the sound of Agatha’s heels came click-clacking down the hallway. From the moment she rounded the corner, you could tell she was in a foul mood.

She was mumbling something incoherent but she stopped when she spotted you. “You’re late.”

You chose to not comment on the fact you were an hour early and instead carefully set down your violin case to hand her one of the cups of coffee. “Bad morning?”

“Hayward is an asshole,” Agatha seethed. “I had the entire season planned out but he thinks I’m not appealing to our investors.”

Well that explained it. Tyler Hayward was CFO of the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra and was a Grade-A asshole. You only had a few interactions with the man but they had all been quite unpleasant. He was less than pleased to discover Agatha had fired the assistant he hired and chose to hire you without consulting him. Luckily Agatha had all but kicked him out of her office and told you to come to her if he gave you a hard time.

“How is Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9 not appealing to investors?” You asked in confusion. “Everyone loves The New World Symphony.”

“That’s not the problem. He thinks I’m playing it too safe with the soloists,” Agatha explained and you thought of the soloists selected thus far. You could see how they would be safe options, but who doesn’t love Joshua Bell?

“But it’s too late to get out of those contracts without losing money,” You pointed out. “Does Hayward not know that?”

“Oh believe me, Hayward always gets his way,” Agatha spat out, and you noticed she appeared to be growing angrier. “He’s still mad I was voted in as music director by the board instead of his choice for the position, so he’s punishing me. And now I have to deal with Maximoff.”

You made a mental note to address the first part about Hayward later when Agatha wasn’t as grumpy, but grinned at the mention of the famous pianist. “Maximoff as in the Wanda Maximoff? She’s-“

“A wild card and not the soloist I envisioned having,” Agatha finished for you, glaring at the mere thought of the woman as you both walked towards her office.

“But she’s an amazing pianist,” You argued, remembering the one time you had the opportunity to watch her perform live with the Royal Philharmonic. “The way she plays is beautiful, and magical, and-“

Agatha growled and glared at you, picking up the speed she was walking at. “And she has no control. She doesn’t listen to direction and thinks she’s always right. Her ego is her downfall.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Wow, that sounds absolutely nothing like you.”

Agatha let out a laugh but still sent you another glare. “Don’t push it, darling,” Agatha warned you as she unlocked the door to her office. “I am nothing like Wanda Maximoff.”

You rolled your eyes after she turned around. “Right. So I’ll take the Beethoven parts out to make room for Wanda’s piece?”

Agatha sighed and combed her fingers through her wildly curly hair. “Well I’d rather just tell the little Sokovian princess she’s not allowed anywhere near my orchestra. But since that would be frowned upon, yes put the Beethoven back. Her agent should be emailing us the parts later today.”

You set off to prepare the dreadful task of reorganizing each folder while Agatha studied different scores. She had her baton out and was mindlessly conducting as she went through the fourth movement of the Dvorak. Over the past few weeks you had started to fall in love with watching her conduct. There was something so mesmerizing by the way she could bring different pieces to life with the mere movement of her hands. You watched her right hand lightly grip the baton and noticed the position of her fingers lightly grasping the silver object while her blue eyes scanned the score.

She felt your staring and smirked as she continued conducting. “See something you like, dear?”

Blushing furiously you went back to your task of sorting music, but every once in a while you allowed yourself to take a break to watch Agatha conduct, and although she smirked whenever she noticed, she didn’t make any more comments. Eventually you finished the work and put the folders away while filing the Beethoven in the cabinet.

“Good, you’re done,” Agatha said as she stood up. “Now it’s time for my favorite part of the day.”

You internally groaned and realized what she wanted. “Where you make one of the interns cry and go get lunch?”

“Close, dear. But no.” She motioned to your violin case. “Come.”

This was your least favorite part of the day. Now, you were used to receiving constructive criticism, and even just good old fashioned criticism. Over the years you had less than kind violin teachers, and you shuddered at the memory of Stefan throwing a chair across the room when you only had three pages of Mendelssohn fully memorized two months before your recital preview. He kept yelling in Russian that he would not be the first faculty member to have a student fail a preview. Or the time Jacqueline caused you to have a panic attack right before your sophomore year concerto competition because she didn’t ‘like your stage presence’ and went on some insane rant, and then yelled at you more while you were sobbing. Ah, the fond memories you had of college.

But there was something so intensely nerve wracking about performing in front of Agatha that it made all of those encounters seem like fun and games. You weren’t sure what it was about the woman, but there was just something about her presence that constantly had you on edge. What made it ten times worse was that Agatha seemed to be aware of the effect she had on you, and did whatever she could to make you blush.

You took a few moments to tune your violin and roll your shoulders back while Agatha made herself comfortable in the audience, but you both knew she wouldn’t stay out there for long.

“Now darling,” Agatha called out from her seat. “I want you to remember what we’ve been working on. The first impression you set when your bow hits the string needs to be dominating. I want to feel like you’re pinning me down on the stage. Make me want it.”

You stared at her incredulously and shook your head, trying not to visualize what she just said to you. “Right...pinning...dominating,” You murmured as you straightened your stance and took a deep breath. Setting your bow on the string, you made sure it was positioned at the frog.

“I can see you tensing from all the way out here,” Agatha said in a mocking tone. “Do I need to come up there and help you relax?”

You knew her coming anywhere near you would do the opposite to relax you. “Nope. Just stay where you are!”

“Oh, are you the one giving orders now, my dear?” Agatha teased as she slowly got out of her seat and made her way towards the stage. “I’m just trying to help. You need to relax your shoulders, otherwise you’re going to end up with a hunchback.”

“I like the Hunchback of Notre Dame,” You offered weakly as you watched her stalk her way up the stairs, her heels clicking up each step.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.” She closed the distance between you and put her hands on your shoulders. “You need to relax.” She examined you closer and arched an eyebrow. “And breathe, my dear. Unless you want to fall in my arms.” You had taken to staring at the floor of the stage until you felt her hand gently cup your chin, forcing you to gaze at her. “Am I that hideous to look at that?”

“Ha, you’re so funny,” You managed to get out before taking a deep breath, and once again tried to relax your shoulders.

Despite your best efforts, you still felt tense, and Agatha noticed it as well. Letting out a gentle huff she moved behind you and began to rub your upper back. “Jeez, have you ever had a massage? It seems like you need one.”

“That’s a bit above my current pay check,” You quipped and blushed when you heard her responding chuckle.

“If you’re asking for a raise, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Agatha replied, her breath tickling your ear and sending delightful shivers down your spine. “You need to let go, darling. This much tension in your shoulders will do too much damage to your posture.”

She hit a particularly hard knot and you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. You thought you heard Agatha mumble something under her breath but you were so lost in the sensation you didn’t ask her what she said. Agatha continued rubbing your shoulders and you slowly felt yourself relax into her touch.

“That’s it,” Agatha murmured. “Good girl.” Your eyes shot open at the praise and you heard her lightly chuckle. “Relax, dear. I could do this all day.”

Your shoulders eventually loosened up and you couldn’t help but groan when Agatha took a step away from you. “Quit your whining and play that chord,” Agatha demanded as she turned away from you, clapping her hands loudly. “I want to be wowed.”

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your stance before setting your bow back on the string. You were hesitating, and Agatha knew it too.

“Any day now. It’s not like I have anything else to do,” Agatha’s words were sharp but you knew she meant it as encouragement.

You let go of any fears you had of what would come next as you positioned your fingers on the string and rolled your bow to produce the g-minor chord. Your left wrist was loose enough to slow down your vibrato and you went through the first section without any interruptions from Agatha. As you began the next phrase you remembered what Agatha had told you about making it bigger and better than before.

“Always leave them wanting more,” Agatha had instructed her. “Make each phrase slightly different. No one wants to suffer through ten minutes of the same few notes.”

You added more vibrato for this phrase and changed the dynamics so you were growing in sound until you heard her calling for you to stop.

“Stop! Stop, that’s enough,” Agatha yelled as she walked back towards you. “That was...better.”

“Dare I say you sound surprised?” You joked causing her to glare at you.

“Fishing for compliments, are we?” She questioned, but eventually relented. “You’re getting better.”

You grinned wildly at her praise. “That was the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far today.”

“Keeping score?” Agatha mused, a smile threatening to tug at her lips at your enthusiasm. “Like I said, you’re getting better, but there’s a lot of work to do. I want to hear those octave slides and not feel like my ears are bleeding from your intonation. Chop chop.”

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

In a Heartbeat ~ Doctor!Bucky x Reader Oneshot

A/N: Title subject to change. This is a GIANT CONGRATULATIONS PRESENT for my fave Doctor!Bucky lover and yours @captainscanadian Because my girl finished undergrad today! Congrats, bby! Enjoy this doctor!bucky fluff that I said I would write a million years ago. ;) I'm so proud of you!!

Summary: What should have been a fun night out ends in the ER. At least your doctor is handsome?

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Injuries (fractured ankle), hospital, getting a cast, xrays and catscan. I think that's it. Fluff

Word Count: 2190

For the first hour of your stay in the ER you couldn’t decide if the constant beeping from the machine beside you was calming or irritating.

As it rolled into the second hour, you settled on irritating. You glared down at your ankle even though it was hidden under the blanket. You moved it ever so slightly, wincing as it caught on the sheet.

You unlocked your phone, letting your friends know that yes you were still here. And no you didn’t have any updates. And no they shouldn’t feel guilty.

A small part of you had blamed them in the first moments, after all they were the ones who convinced you to celebrate the end of finals with some drinking and dancing.

You checked your make up in the mirror next to your front door before locking up. You glanced at the door across the hall, hoping to catch the eye of your hunky neighbor before heading out. But no dice.

Oh well. At least your dress would likely be appreciated at the club. You’d even pulled out your comfy heels. Heels which were now mocking you from their spot on the chair next to your purse.

You’d been feeling good strutting down the stairs of your apartment building when a group of college kids who had clearly been pre-gaming, thundered past you, forcing you to press up against the wall. When you’d taken your next step your heel broke and you went sliding down 15 stairs.

You’d thought your ass had taken the worst of it until you tried to stand up and immediately cried out in pain.

So instead of ferrying you to a club, the Uber your friends arrived in took you to the hospital. You’d sent your friends on their way once you’d been processed and were waiting to be admitted. No need to spoil everyone’s night.

But now five hours later and bored out of your skull you were regretting that decision. You were going to lose your mind. You’d only left the room twice. Once for an x-ray and once for a CT scan.

You turned on the TV and settled on the game show network, letting the episode of family feud distract you.

You were on your third episode when a nurse came in.

“Hello. I’m Wanda, the night shift nurse. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. I’m just eager to get out of here.”

“I’ll bet you are. Dr. Barnes should be in soon,” she assured you. “He just finished up a surgery.”

“Sounds good.”

She checked your chart, noting your vitals and making sure that you weren’t tangled in any wires.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Can I have some water?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Wanda brought back a cup of water and a warm blanket.

“Thought you might be cold,” she explained.

“Actually yeah. Thanks. Is there any way I can take this off?” You gestured to the heart rate monitor on your finger.

She shot you an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. It’s protocol.”

“Worth a shot,” you shrugged.

“I’ll come and check on you in a little bit.”

“Thank you.”

She bustled out of the room and you turned your attention back to the TV which had moved on the Price is Right reruns.

You must have drifted off because the next thing you know you were being gently shaken. Your eyes were finally able to focus on a pair of entirely too blue eyes.

As your brain caught up, you realized the blue eyes were set in a very handsome face. A familiar handsome face at that.

“2A?” you asked cocking your head to the side.

He chuckled as you readjusted yourself trying to discretely check that you hadn’t drooled in your sleep.

“Most people call me Dr. Barnes. Or Bucky.”

“Bucky?”

That made even less sense. You were certain the name on his mailbox was James.

“My middle name is Buchanan. And what shall I call you, 2B?”

“Y/n.”

“Well it’s very nice to officially meet you, Y/n. Although I wish it were under better circumstances. Let’s take a look at this ankle shall we?”

You nodded, and he took that as an assent to lift the blanket. He folded in neatly up over your knee leaving most of your lap covered. You grimaced when you saw the swelling was even worse now than when you arrived.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

You relayed your story to him, omitting the bit about hoping to run into him. He listened intently, making the occasional note but mainly he just nodded.

“I’m going to examine it now,” he announced.

His hands were sure and practiced as he gently turned your ankle from side to side. It twinged occasionally, so you focused on his features to distract yourself.

You catalogued each in turn but lingered on his sharp jawline. Your thoughts drifted to peppering kisses along it and down his neck.

You were startled when his cerulean gaze met yours with a concerned look.

“Did that hurt?”

“Not really. Why?”

You were genuinely confused by the question. You hadn’t noticed anything amiss in his examination.

“Your heart rate was elevated. And you, ummm,” he broke eye contact for the first time.

“I what?”

“Squeaked.”

Your eyes widened and your chest felt hot with embarrassment. You glanced at the traitorous machine which was live casting your racing heart. Although that probably was less of the issue than the fact that you squeaked.

“I guess the hospital just makes me nervous,” you lied lamely.

He didn’t look convinced but thankfully let it go.

“I just need to check one more angle.”

This time it was painful and you yelped.

“Sorry.” He gingerly placed your foot back on the pillow that had been elevating it and covered it with the blanket.

He held the CT scans and X-rays up to the light as you watched him. You once again failed to notice your heart rate climbing as you admired the bulge of his bicep.

Dr. Barnes however definitely noticed. He smiled over at you reassuringly, which failed to help the issue at all. He glanced at the erratically beeping machine, before looking back to you. You would swear that there was a hint of smugness in his expression. But he kept it well hidden.

“Well, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”

“Lay it on me, doc.”

“Well, the good news is that you will not be needing surgery. It’s a minor fracture.”

“And the bad news?”

“It’s a minor fracture that requires a cast.”

“How long?”

“Eight weeks. Total.”

“Eight weeks on crutches?” You whined.

“You should only be on crutches for the first four. After that, assuming everything is healing well, you’ll be in a walking cast.”

You groaned and shot a murderous glare at your heels once again.

“The price we pay for fashion.”

“I’ll have Wanda prepare everything now. It should only take about an hour.”

“Well, that sure cuts into my dancing plans,” you joked, frustrated by being stuck there for another hour.

It would be morning before you got home.

“Is that where you were headed?” he asked as he pressed the call button.

“Yeah. My friends finally convinced me to go out with them for once and look where it got me,” you laughed humorlessly. “Well at least I’m done for the summer. So the leg won’t mess me up too bad.”

Wanda appeared in the doorway.

“What do you need, doctor Barnes?”

“I need a cast kit. For the ankle.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.”

You expected Bucky to leave then, but he continued bustling around the room.

“You said you’re done for the summer. Are you a teacher?”

“Kinda.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“I’m a graduate student. So I just finished up TAing for the semester.”

“Ahh. Are you doing research then?”

“I’m finishing up the edits on my thesis actually. So this might actually make me do it instead of procrastinating," you giggled.

“What’s your thesis on?”

You were in the middle of explaining your thesis, when Wanda returned. Genuinely interested in your area of research, Bucky continued asking you questions as he wrapped the liner around your leg.

From time to time he would grin up at you and the damn heart rate monitor would go off all over again. You’d gotten over your embarrassment for the most part, until Wanda had to suppress a giggle because your heart actually skipped a beat.

“Alright. You are all set. Wanda will grab you your crutches and your discharge papers. You’ll need to make a follow up with your Orthopedic in four weeks.”

“Since I don’t have an orthopedic on speed dial, do you know any good ones?”

Bucky chuckled.

“I’ll have her put my practice’s number on the sheet.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“No problem. Do you have any questions before I go?”

“How long do you think getting all the paperwork sorted will take?”

“Not long. Twenty minutes or so. Why?”

“Just wondering if I should order my Uber now or wait.”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. His fingers drummed against the clipboard in his hand as he momentarily mulled something over.

“If you’re willing to wait another forty-five minutes, I can drive you home when I get off my shift.”

You immediately shook your head.

“You so don’t need to do that.”

“Please. It’s literally on my way home.”

You nibbled on your lip. It would be a lot easier.

“If you’re sure.”

He seemed almost relieved when you accepted.

“Absolutely. It’s been pretty quiet tonight, so you can just hang out in here until I get back.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

He smiled, softer than the other ones he’d given you so far before hanging your chart on the end of your bed and exiting the room, bumping into the glass door as he went. You stifled a giggle. Maybe you weren’t the only one affected.

It took a little over thirty minutes to get you processed. And before you knew it Bucky was helping you into his car. You went in butt first and then swung your cast leg, followed by your good leg in just a hospital sock. Bucky handed you your shoes and purse.

“So, do you chauffer all of your patients home?” You teased as you left the parking lot.

“Only the ones who live across the hall. Speaking of which, I am sorry this is the first time we’ve gotten to meet properly. Not very neighborly of me.”

“I can’t imagine why you haven’t made your way over with your loads of free time,” you deadpanned, earning you an eyeroll. “But however it happened, I’m glad that we met. It was getting to the awkward stage.”

“Yeah, seven months of passing waves is a long time.”

You hummed your agreement.

“So, how did you get into medicine?”

“Family business.”

He told you all about his surgeon mom and physician father as you drove home. His siblings were also in medicine and even his childhood best friend.

“That is so many medical degrees in one house. Must be rousing holiday dinner conversations.”

“We actually have a no shop talk rule.”

“And how long does that last?” you asked knowingly.

“Through appetizers… maybe.”

“Your family sounds amazing.”

“They are. I wouldn’t trade them for anything,” he admitted as he parked his car.

Bucky carefully helped you out of the car and up to your apartment. You’d never been so glad to live in a building with an elevator.

“I feel like I should offer you breakfast for bringing me home,” you admitted as you plopped down on the couch, and lifted your foot onto the coffee table exhausted from the crutches.

“You need to stay off that foot. But I’m sure you’re starving and so am I. Got any pancake mix?”

“Doctor Barnes, you really don’t have to do that.”

“It’s Bucky. We’re back to just neighbors here. And I want to.”

“How can I repay you?”

“Think about going out on a date with me when your leg is all healed.”

You cocked your head, as you appraised him.

“Just think about it?”

He scratched behind his ear as he shrugged a little.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you out for well… about seven months. But I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. Because you don’t. I would have brought any of my neighbors home,” he rambled.

“You’re a really good guy,” you hummed.

“Could you tell my Ma that?” he joked, though his ears tinged pink.

“Happily. And I’d love to think about going on a date with you.”

He beamed back at you.

“I’ll take it. So pancakes?”

“In the cabinet above the fridge. Next to the chocolate chips.”

He nodded, taking the hint on your favorite add on.

“I’m on it.”

Eight weeks later when your walking cast came off, you and Bucky went out for dinner… for your two month anniversary.

Your heart definitely still raced when he smiled at you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: There we have it! I hope you enjoyed @captainscanadian.

[theringers]

V-card anon: hi sorry about that first ask i kinda went into a fugue state (spelling?) altered state of reality maybe when i wrote that and damn near outlined a fic in your inbox

The way we played hot seat was either part of a larger drinking game when a certain card was pulled from a deck, or just on it's own. You sit in a circle, everyone has a drink, usually a beer or cider. In the card pull version, the one who pulls the card gets asked a question by every person playing and if they refuse to answer they drink from their drink. In the standalone, you do that but everyone gets a turn being asked until people get bored and leave. Fun way to find out shit about people. Usually the unwritten rule is that you can't lie. I imagine everyone sitting on shitty chouches and chairs in a semi circle around a table full of cups and bottles playing it

Questions i have been asked: are you a top or bottom? Do you like anal? Wheres the weirdest place you've fucked? Body count? Favorite position (sexual)? Fuck marry kill/ignore people in this room (EVERY TIME I PLAYED I GOT THIS QUESTION)? Tits or ass or other? Favorite non sexual body part ex. Thigh? Ideal fuck buddy? Sex regrets? Etc

Also more weird details i have head cannoned out for some drivers and most likely does not fit with irl personalities, do with this what you will, use it or don't i just have feelings. Also everyone is like compressed in age to like 20-27ish except for some of the grid who i will just think of as younger alumns who come back:

Danny R: social chair, owns a jeep he takes the doors off of in the summer, walks girls home at night to make sure they're ok, tries to DJ house events and is rebuffed by literally everyone, has like 30 pairs of vans you trip over in his room, stolen roadsigns everywhere, masters in something arigcultural or physiological, cutoff frat shirts for days, fuckboy but nice, a bit cringe, will drive around with you at night so you can scream, met reader bc she had a band tee on and wanted to talk to her about it (no gatekeeping)

Charles: some kind of engineering or math degree but no one has any idea how the fuck he's gotten so far, 4.0 never studies, games with other house members, will show up at events randomly you will have no idea how he gets on your couch but he is there, the best and worst taste in clothes, is the only one allowed to play the piano in the house, sweet, cannot help you with studies but is always down for helping you out after, has to be reminded to clean stuff, disaster bi, reader met his gf first and they probably met through that

Pierre: good fashion and music taste, shirt is gone halfway through the night, also fuckboy but wholesome, actually studies, plays a sport for sure probably soccer in some way either club or Division he's too good for rec, will hold your hair back so you can throw up, will tell you your outfit sucks, good at math, also part of the squad that games, econ major, workout buddies with reader anday have taken a math class together

Max: is part of the hockey team he will go pro, also actually studies, got into gaming because of Charles, has the nicest car, is serious until he gets a couple drinks in him, he and Daniel are close and roomed together at some point, owns like 30 sets of the same outfit a white tee and jeans, knows reader through Dan and they get dragged by him to some of the same stuff

Lando: is a pledge or new member his big is Carlos, undeclared major, just happy to be here, gaming squad, used to play lacrosse or something equally obscure, king of knowing where the good snacks are, weirdly good at beer pong, growing into a fuckboy wholesomeness level tbd, probably sweet with reader as she helped him through a blackout or something, met her because she's basically house mom for some of the new boys (the kind of mom who will teach you to do laundry or iron ONCE)

Carlos: hockey flow but does not play hockey, actually studies and is smarter than what people give him credit for, came from a private high school and uni really opened his horizons, also good study buddy, gets along with most people, goes to office hours the most out of the actually studies gang, fun at parties, owns the frat dogs, he and reader met at Office hours (they were the only students) and found they had mutual friends too

Lewis: is/was president of frat, great grades greater bod, did full evolution from fuckboy to good man, has the back tests and the moral support, up for late noght talks about life, definitely was a D1 athlete, best fashion game, implemented no hazing policy, fits into notable alum or PhD category

Mick: undergrad like Lando, also plays soccer or something, too sweet, also walks girls home/holds your hair back etc, cleans parts of the house that aren't his responsibility, higher alcohol tolerance than you expect, everyone is bizarrely protective of him, legacy member (his dad was a legend), drives a motorbike around campus and can't decide between law and psychology, actually studies, met reader through the frat and she would die for him, brings her to class on the bike sometimes because the bike is faster

George: business major, frat treasurer, three ring binder business casual in class kind of guy, nice enough, shirt comes off when drunk, runs marathons and a podcast about investments, best notes in the game and great study partner, actually studies, is drinking monster at 6AM but not because he stayed up late, he and reader met through the frat and sometimes drink wine and bitch together

Lance: hockey player, legacy member, studies sometimes, sarcasm on point, great at stack cup, very chill, knows every good nap spot on campus, also has high alcohol tolerance, is the kind of person who does well in the cold but does not like it, wears headphones so people don't talk to him, great one on one but not in crowds, business major and minor in computer science, probably also met thru Lance's gf but vibe as more introverted people and will cover for each other if one does not want to go out

Nicky: a good boy, part of the walks people home squad, sets up designated drivers for parties, good snack game, future in medical field, good listener, pretty good study buddy, midnight snack enabler, met reader through frat and his gf he and reader are on babysitting duty together sometimes when others get too drunk/high

Yuki: also a pledge or new, majoring in games or computer science as they gave me the same energy as him, games squad, bit of a mad lad, has several stolen street signs, good, met reader through frat and Yuki is the only one patient enough to explain some games to reader, they cuss people out on mic

Esteban: good man, has a full ride scholarship, actually studies, also good study buddy, Dan's little, plays soccer but maybe on a rec team because he prioritizes school, very sweet guy as well, probably chose a really practical major/dual major, met reader through Dan and are also dragged similar places by him

Antonio: manbun, philosophy or classics major possibly business dual, generally good natured but can be seen supplying his own wine at parties, used to be really into metal but kept the hair, does not know that people find him attractive, soccer boi, met reader through frat and she's the only one who will (pretend) to listen to him rant about philosophy

Alex Albon: another full scholarship guy, somehow gets along with everyone, switched majors due to an asshole professor, electrical engineering or computer engineering, actually studies, helps with frat pets,will show you pictures of his cats at home, sweetie, another contender for will hold your hair or walk you home, probably met reader through a class or club and found they had mutual friends and that reader is friends with his gf

Notable alums:

Checo - dad, successful in finance somehow (he looks like an really successful accountant of CFO to me idk why)

Kimi - dad but people forget he is, holds the record for most drinks in 24 hours that will never be come close to by anyone else, shows up on random alum weekends with 2 kegs, legally cannot tell you what he does or he would actually have to murder you

Valterri - was good at a sport when he was there, now a very effective lead engineer at an architectural firm

Seb - environmental or mechanical engineering, all around good guy with someone the best grades in frat history

Alonso - legendary for sexual exploits (consensual)

Anyone I put as actually studies is probably the type reader would hang around for more serious stuff/schoolwork and would probably be closer to, with the exception of Dan bc I feel like he'd be like we're friends now :)) we shall hang or Charles bc he will just show up. I also imagine she has a pretty good friendship with any existing gf, however if a driver does have a gf and he is the love interest sorry bb girl u gotta go for the purposes of this fic

Sorry this is so long hahaaaaaaa glad you liked my Charles thoughts ilu

i honestly wasn’t going to share this like the rest of the anon asks i’ve gotten that i keep close to my heart but this was just too good to keep to myself.

LOOK! AT! THIS!

f1 drivers as frat bros/college students headcannon

i’m writing a series - each “chapter” will be a smut with a different frat bro and i’m hoping to post a sneak peek this week some time but here’s something to hold you over and give you some ideas

to my vcard anon - i appreciate this so much. my inbox is always open for ur thoughts bc they are SO GOOD !! can’t wait for you to read the first part of the series bby

PS if some of this doesn’t make sense to u feel free to send in asks (i know a lot of this is focused on american college culture so if u don’t get it i’m happy to explain)

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate it when you stare

Wow here I am with another part, another fic. Ignooooree my typooos. Is this more soft smut? No one told me last time if what I wrote counts so uhhhhhhh

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

I really do have work to do for my class at 2:30 tomorrow but instead I finished this, so I hope you like this!

_______________________

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other.”

“So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true?”

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

Evelina was visiting home for the weekend for her mom’s birthday, which meant that you had the apartment to yourself. From Friday after work until Sunday night, you were free to do whatever you wanted by yourself. Or, you thought you were going to be doing whatever you wanted until your boss texted you saying that he wanted your project finished by Monday so you could present it that afternoon. That meant you were posted up on the couch, your hair tied in a bun on top of your head, a mug full of coffee, another of tea, and a cup with water all in front of you, the blanket normally on the back of your couch now draped over your shoulders. It was a full call to the hungover days you had back in undergrad when you woke up late and were struggling to finish the work you had due the next morning.

“It’s me!” you hear a familiar voice call from the door, snapping you out of what might have been the first and only roll you had been on working on the project.

You look up to see Matthew coming over the couch, plastic bags in hand to plop down on the table. “Remind me to change the locks.”

“That would mean you have to get up to let me in, though,” he sends a wink in your direction.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though you felt butterflies throughout your entire body at the sight of him looking so comfortable next to you. It was just because he’s a guy, not because it’s Matthew. You let out a quiet sigh as he fiddles with the remote to your TV. “Who says I wouldn’t leave you in the hallway? Plus, I thought you were supposed to have practice today?” you ask, trying to focus more on your project than on him.

“We’re done, and we don’t have a game for three days for once, so we’re resting up. I figured, why not come see my favorite girl?” he says, resting his hand on your shin once your drape your legs over his lap. 

“Because Taryn is in St. Louis so you settled for me instead?”

He scoffs, slowly running his hand up and down your bare leg while his eyes fixate on the television screen. He had to be able to feel the goosebumps that he was causing with his touch. “Fine, my favorite girl in Calgary unless Taryn is visiting, are you happy?”

“Am I ever happy when I’m around you?” you tease, lifting only your eyes from your screen to look at him. Still staring at the TV, you can see the smile on his face, but it almost looks like his jaw is clenching, like he’s fighting saying something back.

“And how could I not be happy around you when you treat me like that?” Your eyes linger for a second on his smile before scanning the rest of his body. Even under the long-sleeved dry fit shirt he was wearing, you could see the outline of the muscles that graced his abdomen. His arms looked like they were begging to rip the seam of the shirt, and you wanted nothing more than to take it off of him and just let them free. “Do you like what you see, babe?” you hear him say, snapping you out of the thoughts you were convincing yourself meant nothing as he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m trying to picture you as a more attractive guy,” you lie, “It would be so nice if Elias were here, wouldn’t it?” 

“If you’re implying that you want a threesome, then I don’t think I could do it with a teammate,” he laughs, his fingers tightening around your shin. Would Elias be better than Matthew? Any guy would be better than Matthew, you tell yourself. He’s your best friend, and nothing more. 

“What have I said about being crude?” you ask him, fixating your eyes on the way he’s biting his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna go get my headphones so I can do this project.” You bolt from the living room to your bedroom, leaving Matthew there by himself while you search for your phone in a panic. 

“Hey, is everything ok?” Evelina says on the other end of the phone call as you try to search for your AirPods in the mess that was your room.

“No, Matthew is here.”

“And that’s bad because?” she asks, drawing out her last word.

Groaning, you drop your phone on your desk, prompting Matthew to call to you asking if you were ok. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” Turning back to Evelina, clearly in a panic that she could hear in your voice, “Matthew is here and I think I’m horny.”

“You’re always horny for him because you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not in love with him and I’m honry because I haven’t been touched by a man in like, three months. It’s starvation.”

You hear her groan on the other end, her parents voices in the background. “Hold on, I need to go into another room,” she says. “Ok, so you really told me two days when you got home that you and Matthew nearly fucked in public  in the liquor store. You have been touched by a man. He was also practically feeling you up at the bar a week ago, might I remind you.” 

“I don’t love him,” you say, unprompted, “And he never even kissed me.”

“Says that hickey that you somehow didn’t notice he gave you?” she says, you turning to your mirror to touch the mark she was talking about. You honestly didn’t know it was there until she said something to you when you walked in the door. “If you don’t love him, why don’t you just tell him to leave?”

“I want company and he’s the only thing I have when you aren’t here. Really, this is all your fault.”

“That was so sweet until you blamed me. If you don’t want him to leave then what’s the problem?”

“Horny,” you say at the same time. “Either do something about it or control yourself, babe, but I’ve gotta go. Miss you, love you,” she says, hanging up when you finally find your AirPods.

Pulling up your playlist so it’s already playing when you get to Matthew, you don’t even look at him as you take your computer back in your lap and throw your legs in his. You can feel his eyes tracing the outline of your body even under the baggy sweatshirt you had on from a college you never went to. 

You had worked for what was probably a solid half hour, Matthew mindlessly rubbing his hand on your leg like he did before, you needing to do everything in your power to stop from thinking about and wanting more. You were interrupted by Matthew reaching over and tugging on the hem of your shorts. “Are you really listening to Christmas music right now?”

“Is it that loud?” you ask, turning the volume down immediately.

“No, I can read your lips. You were mouthing ‘Feliz Navidad,’ and ‘Sleigh Ride.’”

“Oh, then, yes,” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment that you didn’t even realize you were doing that. 

“It’s March, babe.”

“Ok, but Christmas music is fine year round.”

“No?” he questions.

“So I’m going to tell you why you’re wrong,” you start, moving your computer to the table so you don’t drop it, provoking a laugh to escape from his lips, “While I don’t agree with all things in Catholic and the broader Christian doctrine, there are things I can agree with basically because they are up for interpretation, so I interpret them in the way I like. Take, for example, the ninth commandment: love thy neighbor. Some people take it as a literal ‘love thy neighbor’ as in ‘be a good neighbor,’ to the ones who live next door, but I think it’s a matter of caring for those around you, neighbor not being the person immediately next to you wherever you live, but just other people in general.”

“What is your point?” he asks, a devilish grin spread across his face.

“My point is that the Bible, which is the end all be all of Catholic doctrine according to some people, is up for interpretation and people use it the way that benefits them, no matter how wrong they normally are. In Hebrews 13:15, it says, “Through him let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name,” thereby, justifying and promoting listening to Christmas music year round. It praises Jesus, who is one of the persons that make up God, and doing year round is continuous.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Hey, if people can be assholes and use a 2,000 year old book to try to wrongly justify their bigotry and homophobia, why can’t I use it to rightly justify my listening to christmas music all year?”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn about it and keep the things that I like with me. I’m not Jesuit but I follow their ideals like ‘care for the whole person’ and ‘be a man or woman with and for other.’ And Evelina’s parents are very religious, so we kind of put up a front whenever they visit to please them. They still think we go to Mass every Sunday.” 

“Is that why there’s sometimes a crucifix by the door?” he asks, you nodding along. “And that weird Jesus magnet where he has a chefs hat and it says ‘fish and bread are served’ underneath him?”

“Yeah, I think her dad superglued that to the fridge because no matter how many times we’ve tried to get it off it won’t budge. Plus it’s a reference to another Bible passage.” 

“I went to a Catholic high school, remember? I already knew that.” You can’t help but return the smile he was sending your way, this time your eyes flicking down to his lips, you unsure if his were doing the same. You snap out of it, biting your lip and making eye contact with Matthew, both of you breathing slightly unevenly at just thinking about what you could do with each other. Was Evelina right that you two loved each other?

No, she couldn’t be right, because you didn’t love him. You pick your computer back up to get back to work, not saying another word as Matthew turned back to the TV. You hit a deadend, finding yourself back to staring at Matthew’s perfect face while his eyes narrowed and a small smirk formed on his lips at something funny on whatever movie or show he was watching. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you groan, Matthew’s head snapping to your direction as you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

He reaches over and pulls your hands from your face, intertwining his fingers in yours. “Take a break, I brought food for us.” 

“You didn’t cook it yourself, did you?” you ask. The last time he had made food for you, you were sick for a week from what you’re sure was food poisoning from something being undercooked.

He laughs, the pad of his thumb rubbing your palms. You could feel your breathing get shallow by this, trying to ignore it while he’s talking to you. “No, I got it from the store down the road, already made. Mac and Cheese!” he says, pulling it out of the bag.

You roll your eyes at his stupidity. “Matthew, we’ve been sitting here for over two hours, why would you leave that on the table instead of in the fridge?”

“It’s still warm!” he argues, opening it, “Oh and it smells so bad.” You burst out laughing as he cringes, closing it immediately. “I’ll order something else.” 

You get up to go throw out the now rancid mac and cheese in the kitchen. “Hey, where do you want to order from?” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen behind you.

The list. 

It’s on the fridge.

Practically throwing yourself at it to try to tear it down in time, you rip it off the fridge and fold it up in your hand just in time for Matthew to come in. “Are you ok?” he asks you, noticing your slightly faster breathing and your hands behind your back.

“Yeah, the smell was just bad,” you lie to him, shoving the list in the band of your shorts. “And I was looking at the Jesus magnet.” 

“That thing is so creepy,” he says, both of you looking at it. Knowing Matthew, you try as discreetly as possible to move the paper to your front so he can’t feel it as he inevitably presses his front to your back, his arms draping over your shoulders. Without thinking, you reach up to touch his hands as he rests his head on yours. “It’s way too white to be Jesus.”

His arms move their way down your body, settling around your waist as he starts to nibble at your ear. “God, you are so sexy,” you hear him let out.

“You’re awfully handsy lately, aren’t you Matty?”

“Oh come on,” he says, turning you around to face him, practically pinning you against the fridge, “You know we’re always like this with each other.” 

You smile at him, cupping his face in your hands as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheeks. “We have a weird...” you start, trying to figure out the right word to describe whatever it was you had with him, “friendship,” you settle on, not exactly liking the word yourself as your tried to hide the cringe you were sure was appearing on your face. 

He swallows hard at that word. Even relationship would have been better, even if it were more broad than ‘friendship.’ At least it wasn’t such a narrow word. It felt like even if you didn’t finish the list you didn’t know he knew about, you would never see him as more than a friend. “Well, that’s what makes it my favorite friendship.” 

The two of you stand there for a minute, holding each other and gazing into the others eyes. You could feel your breathing slow down studying Matthew’s facial features again, thinking only of how perfect they looked to you in that moment. “We should figure out where we’re getting food from,” you say, dragging your hands down his chest before dropping him all together. 

He could have stared at you like that forever. He really couldn’t think of anyone more perfect than you, anyone he would want to look at besides you. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, moving over to the counter. Opening your fridge, you remember you still have the list folded in the band of your shorts, throwing it in before grabbing some water out. “What did you just throw in there?” Matthew asked you, having watched your every move.

“Uh, Evelina and I have this weird list that we’re putting together, it didn’t feel right to have Jesus looking over it all of a sudden,” you tell him, “But now that you had mac and cheese on my mind, I kind of want that.”

“Oh, no, you’re not changing the subject that easily,” he says, trying to reach around you to open the fridge. 

“No, come on, it’s mostly Evelina’s and I don’t know if she would want you seeing it,” you lie, batting your eyes at him and trying to contort your face to make it look like you would cry if he tried anything else. He couldn’t see the list of things you hate about it. He couldn’t find out about it. 

He sighs, knowing he wasn’t going to win this one. “I ordered you mac and cheese but I’ll pay for it if you tell me the subject of the list?” he tries to bargain. 

“Uh, it’s a list of kinks,” you lie, not knowing what else to say, and usure why that was the first thing that came to mind.

His eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. It was the list of ten things you hate about him. It had to be. He grins anyway, trying to hide the pain he felt knowing that the list was already started, and probably nearly finished at this point, “Are any of them your kinks?” 

“Yeah,” you start to lie to him again, a grin on your face, “One of them says, ‘When Matthew leaves me alone.’”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to be hurt by your comment as he walks back to your living room. “Oh you know just how to break my heart, pretty girl.” You follow him, plopping down next to him on your couch. 

You pick up your computer, snuggling into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “I have no desire to do this project.” 

“Why don’t we watch something on TV then and you can work again after we eat?” he suggests. You nod, putting the computer back down, surrendering to his pout. You feel him kiss the top of your head, scrolling through the channels. “What about Lilo and Stitch?” he asks when he finds it on one of the channels. 

“Ugh, I love this movie, but the American treatment of Hawaiians is awful, and I just can’t help but think about it every time I watch,” you say, thinking you were being annoying. “Sorry,” you apologize. Evelina was used to your rants, even if you were sure she normally tuned them out. You didn’t think Matthew wanted to listen to another rant from you. 

“Don’t get me started?” he asks, referring to the game you and the guys played at the bar.

“Don’t get me started on the American colonization of Hawaii. The Cookes’ went to Hawaii and pretty much obliterated the royal bloodline. The king of Hawaii had the Cookes build boarding schools for the royal children, with good intentions that they would be able to educate his children on royal customs to effectively rule their land. Instead, the Cookes took the Hawaiian customs and told them they were wrong, imparting their own customs on them, instead. They wanted he land for America, they wanted to eliminate the Hawaiian culture and make them as American as possible,” you say. “The Hawaiian people were a very sex positive people, but oh no, American Catholic education and their ‘no sex is the safest sex’ ideal stopped the children from living the lives they grew up expected to live. If a boy was found in a girls room doing anything in these boarding schools, they would beat the children as punishment, and probably other things that weren't even recorded. There are actually a decent number of Wikipedia pages that have had this information erased, like when you go back into the edit history. The sources, as they claimed, weren’t valid, but in reality they weren’t the Cookes’ American-centric description of these schools. They even went so far as introducing sports into the schools as ‘an antidote to the worst evil of all: sexual promiscuity,’” you comment, drawing a laugh from Matthew. “Because we all know how much athletes hate sex, right?” 

You look up at Matthew, him beaming down at you as Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride starts ironically playing in the background, “Yeah, we hate that,” he whispers. You swallow hard, trying to ignore any feelings that might be coming up at the sight of Matthew biting his bottom lip. 

“American’s always just insert themselves where they don’t belong,” you finish, settling your head back onto his shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Why do you know all of this?” he asks.

You shrug, not really sure how to answer, “I don’t know. When I’m doing work I see one word and it sends my mind into this never ending tangent and I end up looking up stuff online and reading for hours.” 

“You really are the smartest person I know,” he says with a sigh, “Why hasn’t Ev told her parents about hiding the Catholic stuff until they come?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know. I never asked, she just told me it was something she needed to do, so I did it with her. That’s her own cross to bear,” you say, taking a minute to realize the really bad pun you just made. “Ah! See what I did there!” you practically yell, Matthew groaning.

“On that note, I think I need to leave,” he jokes, getting up off the couch.

“Oh, come on, no!” you beg, taking him by the hand and trying to drag him back down to the couch. “I don’t want you to leave,” you let out as he pulls you off the couch. 

“Really?” he asks you, sitting back down on the couch, your hands still connected.

Standing over him you nod as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him. He pulls you as close to him as you can, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Your mind flashes back to the liquor store, the feeling that came over you as he worked his way along your body like you had a feeling he was about to do again. 

“Come on Matthew, you know this isn’t something we do,” you tease, even though you can’t help but look at his lips, the urge to kiss him creeping up on you as you tried desperately to suppress it. If any guy had taken you into his lap like Matthew just did, you would want to do the same thing. You were just desperate for a man, not desperate for Matthew. 

“We can’t do anything?” he teases, going for your neck again. You let out a moan, praying that he doesn’t leave any more marks that you’ll have to cover up later. 

“Wait,” you say to him, pulling him off of you. He looks slightly upset, not sure what to do next. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you think to yourself, pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side and returning the favor of the hickey he gave you. You suck on his skin, listening to the moans that escaped from his lips this time, feeling him grow hard the longer you were at it. He clenches his hands on your butt, pulling you even closer to him. You work your way up his neck and to his jaw, his grip getting tighter the closer you were to his lips. You had no idea what was coming over you and causing you to want to do this, but nothing in that moment felt better. Nothing in your life had ever felt better as you kissed his face the way he did to you the other day, hearing him moan more and more with every connection you made. 

Your lips are millimeters from his, both of you practically begging the other for connection when you’re startled by the sound of Matthew’s phone ringing. You both laugh, foreheads pressed together. One more second and it would have happened. “I think that means our food is here.” 

“Perfect fucking timing,” he mutters, not loud enough for you to hear as you get up to go grab the food. He couldn’t believe you just did that. He checks his neck in his phone camera, seeing it littered with the red marks you had left for him. He reaches up to touch them, smiling for some reason. There’s no way this list would work against him, would it? 

You come back, him practically throwing his phone so you don’t see what he’s doing, settling down on the couch with each other eating the food. Your mind starts racing with thoughts about what just happened. There was no way you really wanted that, did you? Well, you wanted a man’s touch, but it didn’t necessarily have to be Matthew. It could be any guy. 

‘I have another thing for the list,’ you text Evelina, your eyes moving between your phone screen and his hands holding his food, careful not to look up at his face.

‘Good, god, what?’

‘I hate the way he stares,’ you send her, finally looking up, not taking your eyes off Matthew as the two of you can’t help but stare at each other.

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter One

“Come on Robs, what could it hurt?”

Robyn looked over at her friend and frowned.

“Online Dating? Really? Do you know the kind of psychos on these sites?”

Leandra sighed, “Girl, ain’t nobody saying marry them but at least try it out. It’s been years since your divorce. Why are you still so gunshy?”

“Well maybe because my ex-husband ripped my heart out my chest.”

“Isn’t that a little dramatic? You and your ex-husband were both childish and lost. I still don’t think you should’ve gotten divorced either.”

“You and everyone else seems to have my failed marriage all figured out.”

“Look, forget about all of that, you need to get back out there, even if it’s just for a night of fun. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“You know what, just to shut you up, I’ll do it.”

“Good, I got your profile all set up, you just need to approve it and submit it.”

“How in the hell? This is the first time we’ve spoken about this.”

“Yea but this was just a minor technicality because I was gonna set you up anyway.”

“Ugh….get away from me.”

Leandra laughed  as she slid her laptop over for Robyn to review the profile. After a few minutes, Robyn nodded her head in approval and pressed publish.

“So now what?”

“Now you wait to see if you get any hits or you just peruse others’ profiles too.”

Robyn was shaking her head before Leandra even finished her statement, “I am not perusing anything. I don’t even want to do this right now.”

“So let the men come to you, it is the natural order of things.”

“I’ma divorce you next.”

“You love me so whatever.”

Robyn laughed as she leaned her head on Leandra’s shoulder, “Le, do you really think this will help?”

“I think it’ll give you something to do while you try to get your life right again. I love you and I know you and I know that your divorce is something that you’re still trying to understand but your life doesn’t have to stop while you’re doing that. Things don’t have to be serious. You don’t have to fall in love with anybody but it wouldn’t hurt to get from behind these walls you’ve erected and live. You owe it to yourself, if nobody else.”

                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daddy, come on, the movie is starting”

Chris smiled as he rushed into the living room with a big bowl of popcorn. He sat next to his 3 year old daughter, Anesa, just as the classic Disney symbol flashed across the big screen.

“You know Princess, you could’ve just paused the tv. This is just a stream.”

“No because you were supposed to be faster anyway.”

Chris chuckled as he kissed her temple. He made the right decision becoming a foster dad two years ago. The little imp had done so much to replace the empty void in his life. He had suffered so much loss, being able to give that extra love to someone felt good. An image flashed in his head and he shook it. Years ago, he thought he had someone but that relationship crashed and burned. It surprised him that he even thought about her sometimes, all these years later.

Just as he started to become enamored with the Princess and The Frog, his phone rang. Anesa glanced over at him as he stepped out into the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello?”

“CB, what’s going on, Bro?”

“Marcus, how you doing?”

“I’m good. I’m moving back to the city so I just wanted to check in and see if we could meet up one of these days.”

“Of course, I’ll see if my sister can watch my daughter so just let me know when.”

“Daughter? A lot has happened, huh?”

“Too much.”

“How’s the wife?”

“Divorced years ago. I thought you knew.”

“I thought you were joking. You really went through with it?”

“We weren’t exactly seeing eye to eye.”

“But you were together for so long since middle school, right?”

“Officially since high school but you’d think that would’ve made our life together much easier, but nope.”

“Wow. We definitely got some catching up to do. Well, I’m back officially on Friday. We can meet at Roddy’s Bar.”

“Cool. 8 good for you?”

“Perfect, Bro. See you then.”

“Bet.”

They hung up and Chris went back to watching TV with Anesa.

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn fought as much as she could to not be curious about the stupid dating app but….that only worked for so long. As she scrolled, the frown in her face just got deeper and deeper. What the hell had the world become? These men were just- no. It was hard being single. She hadn’t been single in years. Scratch that, ever. She’d never been single. She wasn’t used to being alone and being married was supposed to prevent that. Her ex-husband had literally tore her heart in two and she still hadn’t recovered. How two people so in love could be so incompatible baffled her mind to this day? Of course, her people just thought they were too young and just gave up too quickly but what would they know? They didn’t live with them 24/7. Yes, they had awesome memories but all she could remember was how alone she felt when he was in the bed right next to her. How withdrawn he had gotten in the last two years of their marriage. How unsettled she felt. Like she never knew when he would finally explode from holding everything in. She felt like she walked on eggshells her whole marriage but him asking for a divorce shook her to her very core and she had never bounced back from it. She endured his brutal silence, his emotional hardness but yet he was the one who walked away. It just never made sense to her. Just as she was about to close the app, a direct message popped up. 

Subject: Hello

Body: Hi, I was browsing your profile and you seemed really interesting. I was wondering if you would like to chat.

Robyn frowned a bit but she clicked on his photo to be directed to his profile. 42 years old. Divorced. One child. College Music Professor. 

He seemed harmless. His photo was full length so his face wasn’t the clearest but he looked decent. Besides he’d probably say something weird and she’d never have to meet him in person so what’s the risk and Leandra had listed her under just her initials so it’s not like he’d know her real name anyway.

Re: Hello

Body: Hi, I would love to chat with you. My name’s Anna. Yours?

A few minutes passed before she got a reply

Re: Hello

Body: Christian but my friends and family call me Chris. It’s nice to meet you Anna.

A: Chris? That must be a common name, I know a few of those.

C: I can imagine. Don’t know too many Annas though. Not the typical name of this time

A: It’s a little old school but I like it. I see you’re a music professor

C: Yup. Decided to change career paths once I got divorced a few years ago. You’re a veterinarian?”

A: Yea, I own a clinic and a shelter in the city.

C: No children?”

A: No. Seems like my animals take up all my time.

C: Understandable. Animals can be like children.

A: Definitely. How old is your child?

C: She’s three. 

A: That’s an awesome age

C: Very fun and energetic

A: My friends have children so I definitely imagine. Have you lived in the city long?

C: Just a few years. I was working at another college when the possibility of tenureship opened up at Columbia. Normally that can take years so I got lucky for the invite.

A: you work at Columbia University? That is awesome

C: I think the shock still hasn’t worn off. Kind of waiting for them to take it back at some point

A: Lol when I got the keys to my clinic, I felt the same way

C: Where’d you go to school?

A: Stanford for undergrad. University of California, Davis for veterinary school.

C: Pretty far from home, huh?

A:New York has always been the place for me. I always knew I’d end up here. You?

C: I’m from down south so that’s where my soft spot is. I did my undergrad and grad at Stanford though.

A: Wow talk about a small world.  It is a large school so I’m not surprised we haven’t met unless we have.

C: Probably not, don’t remember many Annas there

A: True. How do you like being a professor?

C: It’s cooler than I thought it would be. My previous job had a little bit more excitement but after some personal issues then my divorce, I had had enough excitement to last a lifetime.

A: My divorce kind of knocked me off balance so I can understand wanting to start over

C: How long were you married?

A: Three years. You?

C: Same. Together?

A: Over ten years. You?

C: Same. Bad ending?

A: I really don’t know. It wasn’t the best situation but it wasn’t the worst. I think abrupt would be a better word. You?

C: I walked away. I wasn’t the best husband but I think we really outgrew each other.

A: That can happen. How old were you?

C: 35. You?

A: 34. A lot can change in over ten years

C: True. I don’t know if she knew that though

A: did you try to tell her? 

C: Honestly no but that’s partly why I walked away. I wasn’t any good for her let alone for myself. I struggled a lot emotionally back then, I still do now sometimes. She didn’t need that weight in her life

A: Did she say that or did you make that decision for her?

C: Both.

A: Ah. I’m sorry

C: No need. She was better off without me anyway

A: you still think about her?

C: I try not to. It hurts. Failure sucks.

A: tell me about it. Have you seen her over the years?

C:No. We both moved away once we got divorced. Don’t really know where she went to be honest

A: Same. Some things are just better left alone, I guess

C: True.

A: You know Chris, this was fun. I was a little nervous about this online thing

C: Really? I’ve done it once or twice before. It’s not too bad if you take it for what it is

A: And that is?

C: Just a way to meet people. Doesn’t have to go further than a conversation unless you let it

A: That is very true.

C: If it’s agreeable to you. I’d love to talk to you again

A: I’d like that

C: Great. I guess, until next time

A: Have a good night

C: You as well

Robyn closed out of the app after reading Chris’s last message. They had a lot in common, a lot more than her ex-husband. She got a little nervous when he said his name was Chris but once he clarified that his full name was Christian, she could let out a breath. Her ex-husband’s name when shortened was Chris but his full name was Christopher. Christopher was a common name but she really didn't need that reminder of him too.

Chris dropped his phone onto his nightstand just as Anesa ran into his room. He laughed as she tried to climb onto his bed before leaning over to pick her up, “what’s the matter Love Bug?”

“Can I sleep in here with you?”

“Of course you can. Did something happen?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Aww...I’m sorry, Love Bug. Come on, get under the covers.

Anesa climbed under the blankets as Chris turned off the lights. She cuddled onto his chest and Chris hugged her close, “Comfortable?”

“Yes. Goodnight Daddy.

“Goodnight Love Bug.”

                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So….how was it?” Leandra asked as her and Robyn sat down for breakfast.

“It was a nice conversation. He seemed like a decent guy.”

“What’s his name?”

“Christian but people call him Chris.”

“You really have a thing for Chris’s, huh?”

“Don’t say that. Chris is just a common name.”

“It is but what a coincidence.”

“Yea.”

“So what does he do?”

“He teaches music at Columbia.”

“Nice. Educated. Kids?”

“A daughter.”

“Marital status?”

“Divorced like me.”

“Guess you can share horror stories.”

Robyn chuckled, “my marriage was a failure but not a horror story. Stop it.”

“Have you spoken to Chris?’

“Not since the divorce was final. Why?”

:Leandra shrugged.

“Le, what happened?”

“Nothing. I thought I saw somebody who looked like him the other day, that’s all.”

“Where? Here? In New York?”

“Yea.”

“Please don’t tell me we moved to the same state.”

“Robs, I don’t know if it was him. I just caught his profile. It could’ve been any cute light skin guy. They are running around here galore.”

“That’s true.”

“So about your new Chris?”

“What about him?”

“What’s the next move?”

“We agreed to talk again but nothing more than that. I’m still stuck in limbo, I’m not trying to make something out of nothing.

“I guess. Are you gonna meet him?”

“Nah. Some things are just better left alone, you know.”

“Not even if you really start to like him.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m swearing off serious relationships until I fix my broken heart and I have no idea how long that’s gonna take.”

“You still love him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know but I don’t want to.”

“You were together a long time.”

“Yea and he still left me so what does that mean?”

Leandra sighed, “I don’t know. “

“Chris, who are you messaging so much?” Jessica, his sister, asked as she started stirring a pot of beans.

“I met this woman online. We’ve been talking for a few weeks.”

“Online dating? You sure that’s safe?”

“I don’t plan on meeting her so it’s not a huge deal. Just a conversation.”

“Few weeks is a long time for it to just be a conversation. You like her?”

“She seems really nice.”

“Glad you’re opening your heart up somehow.”

“I’m not opening anything up. I went down that road and have no qualms about avoiding it.”

“You know you walked away from your marriage, Chris. I don’t understand your apprehension with moving on.”

“I didn't walk away to move on. I walked away to keep from hurting her. Two different things. I’m not fit to be in a relationship, let alone a marriage. My daughter is the only woman I’m concerned about right now.”

“Anesa can’t be your whole life.”

“Who says?”

“I wish Momma was here to talk some sense into you.”

“Don’t do that, Jess.”

“What? She was the only person you listened to. Did you ever tell your ex what happened with Momma?”

“No.”

“You never took her to meet her?”

“It’s not like she was around. Auntie C raised me.”

“So when you left every weekend to see Momma in the hospital your ex never asked why?”

“She asked. I never answered.”

“Chris.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t for her to know. She didn’t need that kind of weight on her, ok?”

“You never gave her a chance to really love you, Chris.”

“Well that doesn’t really matter. She moved away and about her life. I did the same. No harm, no foul.”

“I wouldn’t quite say no harm, no foul but whatever.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don't want you to hurt this new woman because you’re still in love with your past, Chris.”

“I’m not in love with anyone so there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“And that worries me even more.”

[yuta-nakamots]

Beautiful Time - h.rj ; Part 3 of 6

Pairing - Vampire!Renjun x Reader

Genre - Fluff with a hint of angst

Warnings - Mentions of blood, description of feeding

Summary - Vampires are creatures forced to walk upon the earth for longer than humans could possibly imagine. One would think it gets boring after a while, but not to Renjun, the foreign exchange student who seems to know a little too much about the early twentieth century.

Word Count - 2.5k

A/N - this chapter is shorter than the rest of them because i was more concerned about moving the plot along but i promise the next few will be a  lot more packed

Following the sudden end to your previously joyful Christmas party, a general agreement is made that Haechan will now live with Renjun and Jaemin for his own safety and that all three of them will not leave their apartment more than necessary to decrease the chances of getting tailed by the hunters. Again, Haechan stays in Jaemin’s room, though this time, a permanent addition, and you stay with Renjun. He had told you the party was going to be a sleepover so you had brought your own clothes, however, you opted to wear one of his shirts instead, taking in his calming scent.

As you settled into his bed while he sat at his desk, anxiously hunched over his computer, you heard the muffled sounds of a shooting game coming from Jaemin and Haechan’s room as your mind wandered to what would happen to you and Renjun now that the hunters were an issue, though you didn’t let it weigh on your mind for too long, wanting to hear an answer from Renjun himself. You called his name softly, receiving a light hum in response from him. “What do you plan on doing about the hunters? Are you planning on just avoiding them?”

Renjun leaned back in his seat, closing his laptop as he formulated an answer, “To be honest, I knew this would happen sooner or later so I already had a plan, it’s just a matter of putting it into action,” he glanced over at you before continuing, “I’m going to send Haechan and Jaemin over to my hometown in China where they can stay in a house that belongs to my family. I have connections there so I know they will be protected” he explained.

You rolled onto your side to face him, noticing the brighter red coloring of his eyes as you asked, “what about you? What about us, Renjun?”

Renjun replied to you while he changed his own clothes and got into bed next to you. “I plan on staying here for the remainder of the school year to make sure you’re safe,” he said, pulling the blanket up to cover both of you even if he didn’t need it, “though once you graduate, I’m not too sure how much longer I’ll be able to stay around given the severity of the hunters’ antics. I suppose I’ll go with you to wherever you choose to go and pursue your future plans if you do want to leave home.”

“I’m willing to go to China after graduation,” you proposed, feeling his arms wrap around your waist and pulling you closer towards him, “there’s bound to be a school I like over there and if it means you and the others will be safe, I’m more than happy to make the move.”

Renjun placed a soft kiss to your lips before speaking, “y/n, are you sure you want to do that? You’d be leaving your entire life behind”, he said, looking into your eyes, searching them for a definitive answer.

“If it’s for you, I’ll do anything as long as you’re by my side” you stated as Renjun began to butterfly kiss his way to your jaw.

He lightly groaned into your neck as one of his hands found yours, intertwining your fingers, “you’re such a good girl, y/n, I can’t believe you’re mine.” You looked down at him, your eyes meeting his.

“Renjun, are you hungry?”

“Not in the conventional way you would be, darling.”

“Feed from me, Renjun,” you practically pleaded, “mark me as yours.”

Renjun pulled back from you suddenly, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. “Y/n are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want my marks on you where people will know you’re in a relationship with one of us?”

You threw one of your legs over his, pulling him back towards you, allowing you to trace shapes along his chest and stomach. “I wouldn’t move to China with you if I wasn’t willing to let you feed from me” you said, placing your hand on his cheek turning his head to face you for a second, his eyes turning an even brighter shade of red before he gently grabbed your wrist and returned his gaze to the ceiling as he sighed.

After an hour of reassuring Renjun that yes, you were sure you wanted this, he finally gave in to your wishes and fed from you.

He bit into your wrist, not wanting to risk marking your neck as it would be harder to hide. He doesn’t take much, just enough to satisfy himself, in turn making you a little drowsy and feeling like you wanted to fall asleep right then and there, the comfort of his bed enveloping you. You barely even noticed when Renjun had gotten up and left his room, coming back with a glass of water and a small blue packet. “This is a vitamin pack to restore the nutrients you lost” he explained, his words falling on virtually deaf ears as you were on the brink of sleep, though you still force yourself to drink the water and eat the vitamins he gave you before drifting off into slumber.

You woke up to the sound of the boys arguing out in the living room, Jaemin’s whining being hard to miss along with Haechan’s voice filled with annoyance. “Let me get this straight, you’re sending us to a country where we don’t even know the language while you get to stay here with your girlfriend” Jaemin exclaimed while you slowly got out of bed and made your way to the living room.

You heard Renjun sigh, “You’ll be safe in China, and I’m staying back to protect her. She said she’s willing to move with us after she graduates so I won’t be alone here for long.”

Haechan started to speak but Renjun cut him off, “Haechan, you know the plan. I’ll be fine.” Their heads turned to you as you entered the room, sleep still evident on your features.

Haechan looked back at Renjun, blurting out what he was going to say a few seconds earlier, “but she’s still just a human, she’s vulnerable no matter if you’re here or not.”

“Which is why I’m staying back to protect her” Renjun said through gritted teeth.

“She’s gonna have to be turned sooner or later though” Jaemin mused, eyeing you to gauge your reaction as he moved to sit down on the sofa, pulling out his phone.

“Guys, I’m literally right here,” you grumbled, “you could at least ask for my opinion.”

Haechan rolled his eyes and scoffed, “okay then, princess, what would you like to do on this matter?” His voice laced his sarcasm.

You mimicked his haughty expression before responding, “I’m willing to be turned...after graduation though.”

“That still means you’re vulnerable until the end of the school year” Haechan pointed out.

“Which is why I’ll be with her” Renjun seethed out of annoyance, his hands flying towards Haechan’s throat.

Haechan backed up, his arms raised in defense as if this were a normal occurrence, “okay okay, alright. We’ll go but only if you promise that she’ll be turned once she moves to join us.

“Fine.” Renjun huffed, though Jaemin wasn’t satisfied with that, forcing him and Haechan to shake on it, to ensure both parties would uphold their respective end of the bargain.

The second half of the school year goes by quickly, Renjun barely showing up to school, only coming to the class you had together all the while having just a single run-in with another hunter, though he told you he was able to take care of it easily. You had started looking up colleges in China within Jilin, the city Renjun said Haechan and Jaemin were now situated in. You found a few that interested you and applied to all of them, hoping that by some miracle you’d be accepted into at least one. You were so anxious about it that you asked Renjun to pull a few strings to get you into the one you liked most though he swore you could’ve gotten in on your own accord.

Given your good grades and other academic achievements, you were in the range of one of the best students in your class, however, you knew you wouldn’t be able to live out the college life you had dreamt for yourself, as this was only a facade so your parents would let you leave for China. Renjun went over the ‘plan’ with you and explained that once you arrived in China and settled down, you’d have to withdraw your enrollment due to the agreement he made with Haechan, where you would be turned once you moved in with them.

When you announced that you’d be studying abroad in China for your years in undergrad, it came as no shock to your friends and family. It was well known that you  had an interest in different languages and cultures, so they all congratulated you on your decision and bravery to study in a country you’ve never lived in before. But what they didn’t know was that you wouldn’t be coming back, or at least, not in their lifetime.

Graduation came quicker than expected, you having gotten sucked into the storm that was final projects and exams, but nevertheless, you managed to survive. Renjun didn’t come to your graduation ceremony or your grad party for obvious reasons, the biggest one being the fact that he doesn’t show up in any pictures or videos, which you would be taking a lot of on those days. But being one of your classmates, you did manage to find his name among the list in the program being handed out, his name as just another one of your many other classmates who were graduating alongside you, causing you to smile as you thought about taking this next leap of faith with him.

After all the ceremonies and parties had come and gone, you filled your time by often going over to Renjun’s apartment, neither of you worrying about projects and tests anymore, nor did you have to worry about Jaemin and, especially, Haechan, interrupting the two of you. You allowed Renjun to feed from you every so often, definitely more often than before, the act becoming a sort of bonding activity for the both of you. You found that Renjun enjoyed it most when he had you in his lap, your arms around his shoulders as your hands tangled in his hair.

But aside from getting to spend more quality time with him, you were also finally able to call Jaemin and Haechan, not previously being able to due to your schedule. You were overjoyed when you heard Jaemin cooing at you through the screen of Renjun’s laptop, “y/nnnn I miss you so so sooo very much, you miss me too, right?” Jaemin, making kissy faces at you as Haechan dry-heaved from somewhere else in the room along with Renjun gagging next to you.

You didn’t even mind when Haechan called you princess and told you to hurry over because dealing with Jaemin alone was quite a headache. You and Renjun stayed in a call with them for over three hours, only realizing how much time had passed when you let out a yawn, letting Renjun know you were starting to get tired. You both said your goodbyes to the other pair, Renjun flinching in disgust while ending the call as Jaemin rambled on about how he can’t wait to have you, his baby, back with him again.

You and Renjun did your nightly routines in silence, not feeling the need to talk to each other when you had just spent such a long time in conversation with some of the most high energy people either of you have ever met. As you were lying in bed, your body half over Renjun’s the reality of this whole situation finally hitting you that in just a few months your life was about to be drastically different from what it is right now. You’d have cut ties with your family, moved to a country that you barely even knew, and maybe even have become a vampire.

Renjun caught on to your tense state, your moments of overthinking becoming more and more common as the days passed by. “What are you thinking about, love?” He asked, rubbing your back as if to ease the pain you were feeling in your mind and soul. You unloaded your thoughts on him about your worries of the plan not going accordingly but also, more importantly, the anxiety you felt from having to leave behind your family and friends, the people who raised you, the people who stayed by your side through the many struggles you experienced.

You started tearing up as you spoke, your voice getting caught in your throat. Renjun pulled your head in his chest, his hands moving to caress your sides, running up and down them soothingly. “If it helps, think about it as if you are recreating yourself. You can make yourself into an entirely new person” he began, “when I first met Haechan, he said something like that. It had taken me a while to adjust to this new lifestyle because I didn’t like change but yet I didn’t like how it felt as if life was just going on without me while I’m forever stuck in the same state.”

You lifted your head to look up at him, only to have him gently press your head back down into his shoulder, allowing himself to run his hands through your hair, his fingers playing with the longer strands of it. “I feel like this is more of Haechan’s story to tell so I won’t say too much about it, but he had completely remade himself as he transitioned. His birth name is Donghyuck, but he told me not to call him that, to call him Haechan instead. He told me he was finding a way to live as himself while not getting stuck in the past as some of our kind does.” You let yourself relax into Renjun’s hold, enjoying the silkiness of his voice as it almost lulls you to sleep, though your brain suddenly starts up again at what he says next.

“Y/n, how about you take my last name,” he proposed, “not as in marriage per se, but as a way to help you separate your new self from your old self. Huang Y/n sounds quite nice.” You felt your cheeks heating up, causing you to bury yourself further into the shirt he was wearing, causing him to let out a laugh. “What? Do you not like that idea? Is it too soon?”

“Too soon, Renjun, too soon,” you acknowledge, “ask me again in a hundred years and I might say yes.”

“Might? Only ‘might’?” He questions, teasingly pulling your body against his and allowing himself to place playful kisses up your neck and jaw.

Willing your worries to go away, you melted into Renjun’s embrace and found yourself floating off into sleep as his kisses slowed and he started humming a song the two of you had embarrassingly danced to earlier that morning.

A/N - this chapter is shorter than the rest of them because i was more concerned about moving the plot along but i promise the next few will be a  lot more packed

@nct-writers​

[bearsfakedthemoonlanding]

alright y’know what? since I’m obviously not going to get any homework done tonight and already have the thoughts in my head, round two

People I’ve Known Who Made Me Feel So Much Better About My Gender

[CW: BDSM talk, gender fuckery]

no names because I’m not outing anybody like that

1. This Older Boy from Martial Arts Class who tried to groom me when I was fourteen and eventually grew up and wasn’t a total shithead

i used to idolize this kid, okay? he was twenty and i was fourteen and i didn’t know boys could be like that

and by “like that” i mean flamboyant and flirty and bouncy and short and goofy

and even though a lot of stupid, toxic shit went down that should NOT have gone down

he’s the first person i remember having gender envy over

2. The Wrestle Boy from my College Martial Arts Club

this kid had the best hair i’ve ever seen

wore it in a bun and wore these tiny rainbow earrings

was the best ally

short, sturdy motherfucker who got really philosophical when he was drunk and had really pretty eyes and was always dead tired

he was gender fucky in a really lazy “nothing matters, I do what I want” sort of way

also very loyal and protective. and he could down a pint of guiness in like. three seconds. disgusting and fantastic.

a true bro.

3. My Boss from College

quirky little man who owned a small book store and was far nicer to me than i deserved

used to feed me lunch on fridays because he didn’t think i was taking care of myself

kind of became family while i was in undergrad

he’s short, vegan, not really masculine in any way whatsoever, very creative, very nervous, and the kindest person i’ve ever met in my life

seriously never met anyone kinder than him

he’s never hurt a single person and he’s never going to

4. My Best Boy

in an alternate timeline I could have fallen in love with this boy

largest man i’ve ever met. 6′6″ and twice my weight probably, broad shoulders, huge arms, used to pick me up and toss me like a little sack of potatoes

we spent undergrad wrestling and rubbing each other’s faces into the gross dorm room carpet. truly disgusting.

took care of me when i was drunk or sick.

wasn’t afraid to say “i love you” platonically and frequently

my favorite boy

5. My Kink Parnter from Junior/Senior year of undergrad

he was always ready to talk about literally anything (living in the BDSM scene will do that to ya.  no filters. no shame).  he’s also on the spectrum (loudly, proudly, once again, no shame) and had a way of asking questions that just made you really think about things.

first time i met him he asked my pronouns, which nobody had ever asked before, and when i said “she/her” he said, “cool.  have you ever thought about using other ones?”

he was the first person i asked to call me a boy, because we were fucking around a lot, and i was really uncomfortable getting called “bad girl” while he beat my ass.  i mentioned it, he said. “huh... what about bad boy?”

and it just clicked. 

he was also the first person i asked to use they/them pronouns for me, and he just went with it, no questions asked.

he also used to crossdress when he was younger, so we talked a lot about being gender fucky. it was great.

and i got to be as rowdy as i needed to anytime i was around him, really get it all out of my system.

wrestling is very gender affirming for me, what can i say?

6. The Chef I Work For

he’s the same height and build as I am

a little dude who is unmistakably a Dude but with a lot of “traditionally feminine” interests

he likes to cook, he can sew, he has a tiny herb garden, he took dance classes growing up, he used to be a male stripper

when i came out to him he was loudly supportive, and he told me stories about queer people he’s known throughout his life 

he uses my pronouns. he makes other people use my pronouns. he apologizes when he fucks it up.  he lets me talk about transitioning. he lets me talk about my parents.

my best friend in this city is the guy i work for, but y’know what? that’s a dynamic i’m willing to work with. fuck it. 

if you think to recognize any of these people, or think you know me in real life, no you don’t.  go away, please.  this space is not for you.  

if you think you’re one of these people in this list, this is thoroughly embarrassing.  pretend you didn’t see this and never mention it, thanks.

[savysavannah]

Practice Challenge One part Two

Special thanks to: @eaton-schreave and @s-morgan

Men have been paying more attention to me lately. Not that they didn't much before, I am a woman after all they're fairly predictable on that front. But what I wasn't expecting was how aggressive they'd be once I became something they knew they couldn't have. 

I tried to continue living on as if nothing happened. Wake up, go to work, work through lunch (you can't let the papparazzi see you with mayo on your cheek again), take a break and call Angelic who works at the palace and has been my personal helper through this transition, beg my boss to let me work through the selection, "I can just go to court virtually!", skip dinner, drive home, make sure no one is following me, they still haven't found out where I live at least, pop open a bottle of gin, then research this bitch who I had to somehow, for the sake of my own ass, not murder. 

The office is on floor 10 of the 20 floor building I work in. I park in the parking lot, thankfully the paparazzi can't follow me there as you have to scan in. I walked up to the elevator and pressed the button. Just as the doors closed a larger man ran up and blocked it with his hand. He was around 6’4 and towered over me, he stood a little too close and I clutched my purse to take the anxiety out.

I watched the numbers go up as we rode but felt him watching me. His pinky finger rubbed against my thigh fiddling with the hem of my pencil skirt. He couldn’t do anything to me, not with who I now was, not in a moving elevator. I tried to remember to breathe as we hit floor eight and leaned to the side to avoid him which he leaned closer in response. Finally we stopped at floor ten and I got off. Thankfully, he didn’t follow. 

I tried to put the moment out of my mind while I worked. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, but it was the first time that I was completely and utterly alone. I clicked the B key of my laptop over and over trying to get my brain to pump out something. Some kind of work. But all I got in response was the distracting thoughts of what to do next time. 

At lunch I stared at the elevator. I had to take either the stairs or the elevator. If I took the elevator I'd be stuck in the same situation. If I took the stairs I'd be alone in a dark area for longer. I pressed the button and watched my watch as I waited. 

I was thankfully alone as it lowered to the ground. I was able to breathe and let my mind debate over if I should go to the sandwich place near work or drive home and eat leftovers. Going with the sandwich I started to walk down the block.

“Daniel will you get off that stupid device and pass your sister the peas.” Mother ordered as we all sat at the table of our parents estate. Our weekly dinners were normally a lively event, but tonight was the first night before I left. Daniel and I still hadn’t made up since his plan for vengeance against someone who had not harmed him had succeeded. 

I’d tried to make the best of the situation, research some ounce of goodness in the Prince, but all I found were articles of his outrageous college behavior. Dan had been assuring me that once I was eliminated I would have a sea of men to pick from and would be happily married to a two or upper class three, I could quit work and be a simple housewife like his Marina, this outraged me further and caused a fight. My goal in life is not to be a wife but to work and be content with my work. Danny was the only one who could actually provide any solace reminding me that it would just be for a few weeks, possibly less, then I’d be back to work just as before. Eventually, people would forget I was ever someone to know and I could return to my life. 

Just as we finished dinner the doorbell rang, though there was quickly a rattling of the knob and a busting in before the help could get to the door. Grandmother came in with large pink bags, which I believed to be for me. Soon after I learned that they were filled with all kinds of masks. Masks for face, masks for hair, hands, feet. Apparently, being on TV meant my skin had to be extremely soft.  

Grandmother is the current head of the Mars candy corporation. Next in line is my Uncle Dennis, then my cousins, then uncle Ricky. Hopefully though it won’t come down to Ricky. Ricky blew all his money before he could trap a wife, he’s still a two as grandmother keeps him afloat, but barely. One day he’ll probably be caught with some kind of drug, he’ll be dropped to an eight, it’ll be a shame that could have been prevented had the lawyer in the family not been a stuck up bitch. I’m just tired of working for free on a man who will never change, and doesn’t deserve the luxury. But God forbid I charge family. 

The morning of the flight I wasn’t nervous at all. I said my goodbyes to my boss, let her know I’d be available on my phone or through email if she needed anything, locked up my home, and headed to the formal goodbye where I’d meet up with my family. There was a surprising amount of pride in the province for me being selected. I had read an article about how it seemed I would be destined to be the perfect fit for Queen. I already worked in helping those of Illea through complex laws and policies, I was well educated, from a wealthy family but not a literal two. I was the perfect mold and the pride of Labrador. There were other provinces which had an eight selected that were not quite as cheerful. In the quiet of the airport I was finally able to say my goodbyes. Mother told me to remember to not be too closed off, Father told me to be careful, Danny told me to tough it out but give it an honest try; “He may not be terrible, don’t deny yourself happiness.” Some nonsense like that. 

Dan congratulated me on the opportunity, and Daniel stood quietly trying to avoid eye contact. I was still mad at him. What he did was unforgivable. But we couldn’t leave like this. I hugged him tightly and boarded the plane.

The day was a blur, a blur of useless lessons, a blur of mild appearance changes, girls who were possibly friends, possibly enemies, possibly annoying. It was late into the evening by the time I got to my room. My maids, Florence, Abigail, and Eimear seemed eager to be serving possibly ‘the future queen of illea’ and I was eager for a moment to myself. I dismissed them for the night to unpack on my own. 

I’d snuck a few pairs of my own tailored dress pants in, my laptop, phone, a notebook, a few books, and a family photo. Soon enough the room was a strangers room with sprinkles of me throughout. Once I sat down at my laptop I realized it was already getting fairly late. I changed into a silk nightgown, closed my laptop and tried to sleep. 

As I slept I thought of the footsteps around me, everything felt so loud, a screaming echo that I was in the very last place I ever wanted to be. After a while of tossing and turning I finally stood and walked to the wine cellar. We had been told to make ourselves at home afterall. As I walked back to my room I bumped into a stranger. 

After a moment of shock and regaining my grip on the bottle of wine I looked up to see Prince Eaton. He was known to be more sane than his brother, so I was thankful for at least that. “Oh! I'm sorry, Prince Eaton.” I spoke and gave a small curtsy. 

He looks down at the bottle and myself with a bit of a furrowed brow “You don't need to apologize.”

He pauses for a moment and gives a friendly smile, “And you don't need to curtsy, either. Lady Savannah, is that right?” It’s a bit astonishing he’d both remember my name and recognize it as mine upon seeing me. If I were in his place I’m not sure I could. 

I sighed a bit in relief please I wouldn’t be getting yelled at for my carelessness this evening, “Yes. Just Savannah is fine, or Ms. Mars if you insist on formality. Though, the apology is still warranted considering I should have been watching where I was going. At little out of it, first night and all.” I lifted the bottle as the first night related to the bottle. 

He gave a deadpan joke and I was fortunate then that I am competent in people reading. It may have been awkward if his "I'm not sure wine will help you remember the palace geography.”

“Well, the goal is to drink it once I return to my room. That or the courtyard since it is pretty out tonight. Though, you do make an excellent point that the wine combined with being in an unfamiliar location could have negative consequences.” For a moment I paused. It may not be a horrible idea to make the acquaintance of someone here. 

“Care to have a glass with me? Splitting it and being with someone who knows the 'geography' well may decrease the negatives.” I offered. 

“Interesting that you don't drink though. I'd heard you were more....sober, than your brother but it's noted to the extent. *kinda blushes* not that I was researching you or anything, it's just difficult to not hear things when you both went to my undergrad and you're a prince. Kinda a common conversation topic.”

He stood a bit straighter and eyed the bottle, “I do not drink.” After a moment passed he then cleared his throat, the tone of his statement before must have hit him, “However I can keep you company if you want to.”

I stifled a laugh at him clearing his throat not trying to be rude but finding his realization funny, “Great then. You can be my guide then for the evening.”

he seemed embarrassed and put his hands in his jean pockets, “I'm afraid this kind of thing comes along with the title...“ he took a hand out of his pocket, making a motion like ‘shall we go?’ 

“So you went to the University of Labrador?”

“yup. Go Labs *kinda mumbles for a moment* I wasn't really there for long. We started the same year I think, which I don't really remember much of. I was kinda a different person then. Then I graduated in 2 years and went to Yale law so all in all not a whole lot of time there. But I am from Labrador and my family home is near the campus so I know the area pretty well.”

he had a very small smile “And I showed off to my brother for graduating in three years. Labrador is a beautiful province, though. I miss it.”

“Well, I'm sure you had more to do than me. I'm not some kinda royal so I just got to spend all my time working on getting credits. It is pretty though, I already miss it. Not that Angeles isn't. My mom's family lives here so I've been here a few times, but it's just not Labrador.”

“I agree, but I've come to realize Angeles is full of little gems. You just need to find them. Hopefully you'll be able to get out of the palace to see it for yourself.”

I chuckled a bit at my situation, “Well, I don't imagine I'll be here very long so maybe I'll have a little Angeles vacation”

he raised his eyebrows, “I know... My brother's reputation. But I think he's trying to take this seriously.” He paused for a moment, “Or as seriously as he can take anything.” It was a bit shocking to hear him say that. He seemed like a sensible person, any sensible person would be unlikely to defend the Prince. Though, he was also his brother, perhaps there's a familial bias. 

“Mhm.” I nodded then picked the conversation back up, “well, only time will tell. Hopefully for the sake of the country what's been said about him the last few years are baseless rumours” I sighed a bit thinking about which floozy of a wife will be our future Queen. The floozy and the fuckboy, what leaders. 

Prince Eaton clenched his jaw, “Media is prone to exaggeration.” but did not deny what had been said. 

He was being nice by walking with me so I decided to spare him a grilling and change the topic, “I'm sure. So how do you feel with the whole uh, 35 girls in your house situation?” Great now I sound like an interviewer. 

We reached an access to the gardens and he opened a French window for me, “My space is always invaded, it's nothing worse than usual.” He said with a failed attempt at a smile. I assume he isn’t looking for pity but it’s difficult to not be pitying over such an attempt. 

“That's fair I guess. Surprised you stayed though. Had my brother decided to have a bunch of ladies in our home, privacy be damned I don't wanna be around that mess.” I joked.

He snorted and seemed surprised at himself, “I was supposed to avoid it with a world tour. But things took another turn and now work won't get done alone.”

“World tour sounds a lot more fun. Postponed or cancelled?”

He gave his first genuine smile of the night, “Already done, actually. I came back a couple months ago.”

“Where did you go? Since I assume a world tour isn't literal?”

“Oceania, South Asia, Central Africa, and Europe.” He gave a small wistful sigh. I’d be wistful too if I had been all over there. 

“That's very worldly. I've only been to France and Germany. Did you have a favorite visit?”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment, “New Zealand and Scandinavia. What about you though? Did you enjoy your visits?”

The question caught me off guard so I took a moment trying to remember them, “they were alright. Quite a long time ago though. We only went to stay with my Uncle in France since he runs the part of my family's company in France and then we went to Germany because we were there so we may as well head there. Mostly it was just sitting with my brothers at a hotel while my parents went off or my grandma playing dress up with eight year old me”

“Oh. Do you regret not getting to see more of those places?” He said and looked to a bench we were approaching, but more with a thoughtful consideration than a directional goal. 

“A bit. It would have been nice to go out but they were more business trips than anything else. Maybe I'll go again at some point on my own if I have the free time.” I let us pass the bench, I’d been sitting far too much today with all the lessons and makeovers.  

“Sometimes you have to give yourself the time or you'll never do certain things.”  

“Logically I agree. But emotionally.....it's difficult to step back to work when my work directly impacts horrific moments of people's lives. Like if I were to go see a movie and my phone off, a client could be arrested and their treatment and time in jail without being able to contact their legal representation would be on my hands.”

He nodded slowly, “I can understand that. It gets hard to stop when people's lives are on the line.”

I sighed, trying not to get too revealing over my reasons for being here, afterall telling a stranger- regardless of him being a prince, that my brother had forged my application would be dumb, “I don't even really want to be wasting time here. But it is what it is. Trying to view this as a forced vacation. At least there are pretty flowers and good wine.”

He furrowed his brows, “Is there a way we could keep you working, from here? I guess you couldn't do much, but a little is better than nothing.”

I sighed,  “Yeah I tried. I work for the ICLU so I asked if I could just stay in contact with clients and work from a far. But I wouldn't be able to make any proper court appearances and they wouldn't want someone just thrown on for court so it made more sense to just give me paid vacation. They were pretty proud anyways since apparently it's an honor to be selected for this reboot reality TV bachelor show.”

He pursed his lips, “I'm sorry you don't get to keep working. But they're not wrong. You being selected does give visibility to your organisation.”

I stopped for a moment, completely caught off guard by the comment, “That is true I hadn't thought of that. It's a non-profit so I hope donations may increase from me being here.” I dug into the oversized pockets of my nightgown and grabbed a pen, always best to keep a pen in the pocket, then scribbled on my hand, “reminder to think of ways to bring up iclu during this.” I explained. 

He laughed through his nose and smiled, “See, a couple things might come out of your forced vacation.”

I chuckled a bit, “You're a smartass, and I mean that as a compliment. I can tell already which makes me feel much better about Prince Damian being in charge next.” I sighed content for a moment then remembered I was supposed to be making conversation, “So, you know I'm a nut for my work, what are you passionate about?”

He shrugged and looked around as if the gardens would save him, “My work.”

I smiled wondering a bit why that would be something to be ashamed of, “I get that. But do you have a specific part? I mean I'm sure you do a lot. So do you ever wake up and you're like 'man I get to do blank today!" Like for me it's court days because I love the theatrics of it.” I smiled a bit remembering the fun of cross. 

The question seemed too intimate for him as he tucked his hands in his pockets, “I guess I like working on projects. I mean, when the planning part of it.”

“Projects are fun. I hated them when I was in high school. I was very much so not the nerd I am today.” I tried to avoid going too deep into the projects conversation, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable. 

He raised a brow at the comment of my past, “I understand why people can find them boring, though.” Thankfully he didn’t press further on the past. 

“Yeah I was more of a push off project till the last minute and party with my friends type for a while. Now I kinda wish I could have them again, it'd probably be fun to analyse how the flaws of Gregory Illea still impact us from a historical perspective.”

He snorted and shook his head, “It's more nerve-wracking than fun, in my opinion.”

“Well yeah, but if you can identify the flaws you can work to fix them and the research is fun so overall, more fun.”

He looked up at the stars as he thought, “I don't know... Not all of it is fixable. Not that easily at least.”

I thought as well for a moment, the country had been in a bit of unrest for awhile now. He was probably thinking of that, “Well, just because it isn't easy isn't any reason to not be excited about it. The accomplishment of fixing something difficult is arguable even better.” I tried to reason. 

He stayed thoughtful, and looked down at me, “I see your points. But sometimes I think our ancestors just put us in a situation we'll never fully get out of.”

“That's a very cynical outlook and I disagree. It isn't logical to assume that just because a way hasn't been thought up yet that there can be a way out of a problem.” I said and smiled up at him. 

“Maybe it's cynical, but what I see is history repeating itself.” He looked up again, “It doesn't mean I think things aren't worth fighting for, though. But magical solutions don't exist.”

“I agree. Solutions often require a lot of work and even then are often not perfect. But to never fully get out of seems too far cynical for me to believe.”

  He looked down at me curiously, “You're more optimistic than you appear to be.”

I raised an eyebrow, “hm, interesting that I appear to not be optimistic. I take it that it's the wine bottle causing that.”

He smiled slightly, “Maybe. But just a little.”

“Any reason you don't drink?” I asked before realizing that may be very personal, “that is if you're comfortable answering.”

He shrugged, “I don't like the taste. Or the sensation.”

“That's a fair reason. I didn't like it much till I joined a sorority and ended up just liking it because we drank so much.” I kinda shuddered remembering the hangovers.  

He raised an eyebrow,  “I guess it tastes different once you're inebriated enough.”

“Yeah like spicy foods. Everyone hates them when they are a kid but you grow to love them as you get older.”

He snorted, ”I've always liked spicy foods, even as a kid.”

I laughed, “Well then you're weird. I still can't handle wasabi.”

He laughed softly, “You just need to be careful about the quantity.”

“No literally any bit of it and I'm out. My brother Danny put some on my sushi the other night, it was just a dapple from his chopstick but I couldn't eat the piece.” 

“Did you try to?”

“No. Why would I want to be in pain, I'm not a weird masochist.”

“How do you know it's that bad if you never give it another try though?”

“Hmm, traumatic memories.”

He raised his eyebrows, a curious expression on his face, “Care to share?”

I sighed at the memory, “When I was a kid I really loved matcha paste. It was like a sweet matcha pouch of paste that you could suck out, like those applesauce containers. it was my favorite thing. My grandmother gave me some and since my parents found it effective to shut me up I got it a lot. One day they ordered sushi, left it on the table, I was around four so i could reach it, thought the wasabi was matcha and ate a handful of it. Tears ensued and now I'll never touch it again.”

He laughed softly, “Alright, I understand better. But you could try to overcome your trauma someday.”

“Maybe one day, but with a lot of milk in arms reach”

He nodded, “I'm sure it can be easily arranged during your little vacation.”

I kinda shuddered at the thought, “I'll for sure need a friendly face there with me for moral support.” I laughed.

He laughed quietly, “It shouldn't be hard to find.”

“Probably harder than the wasabi though. So that is task number one on mission wasabi.”

He smiled slightly, “Well, if you stay stuck too long on task number one, I can volunteer as a friendly face.”

“Thank you. Same to you if you ever happen to need one.”

He nodded, “I'll remember that.” He jerked his chin to the wine, “Are you still planning on drinking this?”

I lifted the bottle and stared for a moment, “it'll come back to my room for further deliberation. Possibly a nightcap.”

“If it can help you get some sleep…” He glanced at the palace, “I should walk you back to your room.”

“If you don't mind. I would consider you an expert of palace geography after all.”

He snorted and shook his head, “Do you remember your room number? Or Hall?”

“Ummmmm. I'm gonna guess 14. Could be 15 though.”

He took a step towards the palace, gesturing for me to walk along, “Well, hopefully we won't step into anyone's bedroom.”

“Hm. Well the doors do say our names on them, so assuming one of us is literate I think we're safe from that” .

“I'm a humble geographer, I read maps.” He replied, getting a small giggle from myself.

“lead the way, humble geographer.” We walked for a bit through the palace till we found my room.

“That's me.”

He stopped in front of the room, “Well, we've made it. Unscathed, at that.”

“Very impressive. I would say you're a 10 out of 10 guide for such an achievement.”

He bowed, “Please don't hesitate to post a review on TripAdvisor.”

I chuckled at the joke, “well thank you for all your help. Wishing you the best, Prince Eaton.”

“Eaton's just fine. Goodnight.” He smiled.

“Good night, Eaton” I replied with a curtsy then retired to my room. 

Once I got on my laptop I pulled up my email. It wouldn’t be too annoying if I emailed my boss with some advertisement suggestions. If I let her know I’d be willing to help as much as I could. I could take up some interviews and remind people to donate. But as I typed I found myself hitting the same key over and over. 

Finally I scrolled onto Toogle and began to read about Prince Damian. The bottle of wine found its way to my lips as I read about his partying, his boorish public behavior, his absolutely lack of responsibility for his people. Quickly the bottle was empty. 

The world spun and I closed the laptop. My stomach gurgled demanding sustenance. Crackers? Something salty? Maybe popcorn. Popcorn and a movie sounds good, I mean why should I bother with anything else while I’m here in this hell. If I have to wake up early I can simply nap when I have a moment to spare. I took the bottle with me planning to throw it away in some form of recycling bin which I assumed would be in the kitchen.

I couldn’t find the kitchen. Instead I stood in an unknown hallway for a few moments, before finally deciding to give up and just return to my room. I could ask my maids for popcorn in the morning if I still wanted it. 

I walked to my room on the corner of the hallway, walked in and laid on my bed. I let my shoes slip off and rest on the ground next to where I had placed the empty bottle.

“Um…” I hear someone say who then clears their throat and says a bit louder, “hello?”

I Rolled around to look at her. I had dismissed all of my maids, who was this person? After a moment I recognized her as a selected who I had seen earlier in the day, “Um? Hi?” I mumbled and tried to sit up a bit in bed. This was not a good time for me to be receiving visitors and I hadn’t the slightest clue why this girl was in my room. 

She steps a bit closer to me, “Are you alright?”

“More than. Rich asshole got fucking great wine. I'm Savannah Mars of Labradoradora. Why are you in my room?” I slurred. 

She mouthed “Labradoradora” silently to herself before she blinked again, and walked to the edge of the bed and looked at me. Seeming to understand my condition she smiled, “Somehow someway, you ended up in my room. Sienna. Not... Sorry, what’s your name?” 

“Woops.” I giggled a bit at the situation now fully understanding this poor girl's confusion at my intrusion. “Savannah.”  I lifted an arm in a lazy wave, “Mars. If you read the papers I'm the selected whose brother punched a reporter.” 

She half grimaced, “Well hopefully you don’t punch me when I offer to help you back to your room.” 

I laughed a bit at what this girl must be thinking of me, “not at all! They're just protective over a creepy paparazzi.” I sat up more straightly and swayed a little.“you don't have to help me though. I am perfectly capable of finding a room. Regardless of my state I am in fact a lawyer. Therefore I can read.” 

Her smile is a little more at ease with my laugh, then she nodded slowly, “Oh absolutely. But so I don’t get mixed up in the future, can you let me come?” She said, eyeing my swaying carefully. 

“Gotcha!” I cheered and did some finger guns and stood up successfully with the help of the bedpost, “I'm a lawyer, you?”

She stepped near me and offered a hand, answering distractedly, “Illustrator.” 

I took her hand, “Pretty!” Then blushes a bit at the exclamation, “Illustration i mean! You are too though!” Trying not to insult the stranger.

She laughed softly and took my arm into the crook of hers, “Thank you. The compliment goes both ways.”

I nodded enthusiastically, “oh no bad idea dizzy.” I said and settled myself again, “I sleep somewhere around here. Why do all these doors look the same”

“I see why you got confused heading into my room.” She chuckles as she scans the plates, “Are you sure your room’s in this direction?” She blinked “Never mind.”

Suddenly I saw another door, it said S something, how many selected with S names could there be, “S is me!” I exclaimed. 

She squinted and she looked closer at the nameplate, “S is close to you, but this isn’t your room. It’s Soraya’s,” She frowned and nodded at a guard who we passed. 

“Oh... “ I wondered why someone else would have joined this, I suppose this other selected is a perfect person to ask, “Do you have the hots for the prince?”

She seemed startled by the question, “Well... we haven’t even met him yet.” She then raised a brow, “Do you?”

I laughed and nearly threw my head back, “Absolutely not! But I was wondering if all the girls here would be like” I stopped for a moment to gather myself, “UWUWUW Prince Dammmm i wanna be your wifeeyyy” I batted my eyes mimicking my expectation of my fellow selected, “and shit.”

Thankfully she laughed before quickly covering her mouth, “Let’s see how the interviews go then talk. I might go all moony-eyed.” 

I half chuckled, “I don't think there’s a thing he could say to me to make me go all "uwu'. Strongly dislike the man off the bat.”

“Oh?” She raised a brow, a laugh still in her voice, “Is it the partying?”

“120%” I said fully serious. 

She hummed, “What about it don’t you like?

“The fact that he's supposed to be the heir to illea and he's running around partying like he's just some ordinary frat boy. He has an obligation to the country and his choice to party over starting on work directly impacts thousands of peoples lives. I spend freaking days arguing cases that could just be solved if we had a leader who was sand enough to amend laws that deserve amending but he's out there doing jello shots and drinking tequila!” I complained, probably spilling out a bit much.

She sighed and bobbed her head to one side for a moment, focusing on the hallway before they reached the end of it and realized her room is probably back where they were before, she simply missed it. tugs them back in that direction again, “Maybe he’s... getting it out of his system.” She defended and wrinkled her nose clearly not believing her own words.  

I sighed, “Maybe. At least this will let me tell if he's really that hopeless or not. Not that I'm one to speak in my current state.”

She gave a short laugh, “What if he is hopeless? What will you do then?”

I hadn’t quite thought that far out, “I figure out which one of you is the least hopeless and try to help them win.” I suggested.

She seemed amused at my conclusion, “Why did you submit your name then? For kicks and giggles?”

I sighed, “I didn't submit my application. Let's just leave it at that. Why'd you submit yours?” She seemed to agree with me about the large faults of the prince which made me more curious. 

“Second chance at... something.” A vague answer. 

I snorted, “something? What did you date a prince in a past life?”

She looked down with a smile then back up, “Life. Second chance at life.” I knew what she meant. The chance to reinvent yourself. I was able to get it before, if this was hers I wished her the best. 

I looked up at her and smiled, “Well, I hope you get it Ms. Artist.”

She directed a smile at me, “Thank you.” We finally approach a room directly labeled Savannah Mars, which is funnily enough exactly across the hall from Sienna's. “I hope you don’t get too much of a headache tomorrow.”

I waved, “Nah I chug water.” I smiled at her already feeling the effects wearing off, “Thank you for walking me here, and I'm sorry for lying on your bed.” 

“Sure sure.” She let go of her arm and raised a brow, “Positive you’ll be alright?”

“Positive.” I replied with a brief nod, headed into my room, then passed out for the night. 

[embeanwrites]

Finding Home Gavin Reed x Reader

Chapter 8

Masterlist

We pulled back into dad’s house. Walking back inside I immediately noticed Sumo was laying down with the old blanket dad was talking about earlier. He perked up the moment we walked in and started wagging his tail.

“He kept crying after you left, he’s a big softie.” My dad said through a mouthful of noodles. I smiled and walked over to pet Sumo and gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sumo.” I said softly into his fur. I looked at the blanket. It was a faded blue and a lot smaller than I remembered it. Or maybe I was just a lot smaller in my memories with it. Sumo had chewed a few holes in it from carrying it around. After all these years, he hadn’t forgotten about me. I wondered if my dad ever took the blanket and thought about me. I sat next to my dad on the couch, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and stealing the container of noodles from him.

“Hey!” He yelled through a mouthful of food. I smiled.

“So, what are we watching?”

“You’re the guest, you pick.”

“Hmmm…Connor have you seen the original Muppet movie?” My dad laughed.

“That movie is older than me, (Y/n)!”

“I have not seen anything about ‘Muppets’.” Connor responded sitting down on the floor with Sumo. It was interesting, even though there was plenty of room on the couch he still chose to sit on the floor with Sumo.

“Then that’s what we’re watching. Everyone needs to watch the Muppets. If I could find a way to show it in my class, I totally would. Hey! Connor you could analyze it and see if there’s any way I could connect it to humans and androids or sociology!”

“Oh, your students must love having to watch old movies.” My dad snorted.

“Hey! I showed my class at (dream/school) ‘The Iron Giant’ and they loved it!”

“How on earth did you connect that?”

“Dad, it’s about a giant robot and people immediately assuming he was going to kill everyone, and, in the end, he was the hero. It’s literally perfect.” I laughed, grabbing the remote from the table and found the movie. I took my phone out of my pocket and placed it face down, so I wouldn’t get distracted. Clicking play I snuggled into the couch and continued eating.

“I'm Statler.

I'm Waldorf.

We're here to heckle

The Muppet Movie.”

“Why are some puppets and others human?” Connor asked, I looked over at him. He once again had tilted his head.

“They’re Muppets, Connor. And I wouldn’t question it too much, in the next movie they say a bear and a frog are twin brothers.” He furrowed his brow and kept his eyes intently on the movie.

As the movie went on, I couldn’t help but hum along to the songs. Muppets always felt like home. When I was younger, me, dad, and mom had a Muppet movie marathon on my birthday. I don’t remember much about what else we did, but I remember watching the movie and laughing with them. It was right before they got divorced. It was the last happy memory of all three of us I had.

Through the corner of my eye, I watched my dad move his foot to the music and laugh at the funny parts. I wondered if he remembered the last time we watched this together. I wondered if he ever watched them with Cole.

When the movie ended, I got up and stretched. Looking at the clock, I noticed it was only 7 pm.

“I’m going to change into my pajamas.” I said while picking up my backpack. “What room should I use?”

“You can use mine, it’s the one at the end of the hallway.” Connor said. I nodded and walked in.

The room had sparse decorations, which wasn’t too surprising. I could tell by what was on the walls that this must have been Cole’s room. I changed into sweatpants and a giant t-shirt, putting my dirty clothes in the bottom of my bag. I walked back out to find Connor putting a leash on Sumo and my dad cleaning up from dinner.

“Dang, Connor. If you had told me you were going to go walk Sumo I would’ve waited to change, so I could go with you!”

“I’m just taking him out for a couple of minutes. I will let you know the next time I plan on walking him. Come on, Sumo.” I smiled and walked over to my dad.

“Gun to my head, if you were to ask me if Hank Anderson would ever let an android live with him, I would say no way in a heartbeat.” My dad chuckled.

“Before Connor, I would’ve agreed.”

“What changed?”

“When we were hunting deviants, it was clear that they all just…wanted to be free. There were two girls that seemed to be truly in love. Connor’s mission was to bring in the deviants, but he had a gun trained on them and he let them go. I guess I just realized that humans and androids aren’t that much different.” I nodded as I kept my eyes on the front door.

���If you had read my articles you would’ve learned that sooner.” I said with a laugh.

“How did you know so early on?” I shuffled uncomfortably.

“I’m not really sure. It wasn’t one moment that made me realize. In undergrad I took a lot of sociology and history classes and I just kept seeing the same issues repeating over and over again. Humans have always had an “us vs them” mentality, so it was just the same thing we’ve seen since the earliest civilization.” My dad hummed.

“I don’t know how you got so smart. You certainly didn’t get that from me.” I laughed.

“I studied really hard and never stopped. Going into college I didn’t even know I was going to go to grad school and get my PhD. I just started learning and I never wanted to stop. Especially after I read about how some androids were being treated. I wanted to make a difference.” I sighed. “I’d like to think I’ve gotten most of my students outside their comfort zones and got them to accept androids as free beings, but I have a feeling that may be harder in Detroit.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you teach, but just by that statement I can tell you really care. Your students will see that too and that’ll get them to listen. There’s a reason everyone hates math, no one could be passionate about that.” I laughed. Connor walked back in with Sumo. The moment he unhooked his leash he came bounding over to me. “Man, he’s going to attack you every time he sees you.” I got on my knees and started petting him.

“Good, because I’ve missed him.” I scratched behind his ear and he thumbed his back leg. I got up and walked back over to the couch and stretched my legs out. Sumo followed me and laid down on the floor next to me, I reached over and grabbed my phone off the table. I checked my messages. A couple from friends back home. I bit my lip, debating if I should text Gavin. In the end I decided I had bothered him enough for one day.

“(Y/n), when did you want to go walk the rescue dogs?” Connor asked sitting next to my feet on the couch.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“He doesn’t, but I have too.” My dad grunted coming back to the living room.

“Why?” My dad shook his head.

“Captain Fowler is having the Lieutenant take some refresher classes and some of the detectives are getting together to discuss how android crime cases should be handled from now on.”  I sat up.

“Is it an open meeting?” I asked my dad quickly.

“Not that I know of.” He answered.

“Hm…ask the Captain if I could possibly assist you guys with that. I know I’m not a police officer, but I understand a lot about androids and humans. I even minored in forensics in undergrad, but that was a while ago.”

“I’ll ask him, I think it’s a good idea. It wouldn’t hurt to get more opinions on how to handle it. The government is sure taking their sweet time coming up with laws covering everything.” I nodded in agreement. “Well, I’m gonna head to bed, read your book a little before sleeping. See you guys tomorrow.”

“Good night!” Me and Connor said at the same time. My dad kept walking and waved a little before going to his room and shutting the door. Still sitting up I looked at Connor. His LED was blue and looking at my backpack.

“I brought a scrapbook if you’d like me to show it to you.” I said gently, grabbing my bag.

“Will it cause you more emotional distress to look at it tonight?” He asked softly, causing me to laugh.

“No, Connor. This is filled with good memories.” I got the book out and moved closer to him, so the book sat on both of our legs. “This is me with my freshman orientation group. I was so scared that day. The campus felt so much bigger when I started living on it, but over time it felt smaller.” I kept flipping the pages stopping to explain some pictures.

“That is Officer Chen.” Connor said pointing to an old picture of me and Tina painting each other’s toenails. I smiled.

“Me and Tina have been friends for a long time, before she went to the police academy, she would come to my dorm room to crash.” I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture and sent it to Tina.

 Look at these babies!

 “Officer Chen is on duty right now. She may not respond right away.” I sat my phone down.

“I know, but she’ll see it eventually.” I flipped a couple more pages. There were pictures of graduation and friends.

“Who’s that?” Connor asked pointing to a picture of me with a KL900.

“Oh, during my research I interviewed some androids. She was designed for social work. It’s been so long, but I think her name is Lucy.” Connor’s LED flashed yellow.

“She died during the revolution.” I looked intently at the picture, remembering how kind she was.

“She was a really good person.” I clenched the book a little tighter. “I wish I could have done more during the revolution. I helped a couple of androids, but if I had been in Detroit maybe I could’ve done more.” Connor awkwardly patted my shoulder.

“You were safer outside of the city. Hank would be upset if you had gotten hurt.” I nodded, closing the book.

“Could we look at the rest some other time? There’s a few more androids and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear about their fate.”

“Of course. Are you going to bed?” I looked at my phone.

“Nah, it’s only 8. If I sleep now, I’ll mess up my sleep schedule even more and wake up at like 4 am. What do you want to do?”

“Would you like to watch the second Muppets movie?” I smiled.

“So, you liked the movie?” Connor smiled back.

“It was interesting. I enjoyed the fact that they knew it was a movie.”

“Well, the next one is ‘The Great Caper’, but that one’s probably my least favorite.”

“Is it essential to watch them in order?” Connor asked, tilting his head.

“God no, they’re a mess. Some of the ones that were made later have an order, but for the most part you can watch them in any order.”

“You can pick which one next.” I smiled widely.

“’The Muppets take Manhattan’, it is then!” I found the movie on the tv but waited to press play. “Hey, Connor. Sometimes you tilt your head a little. Is that in your programming or did you pick that up somewhere?”

“I was programmed to blend in with humans, it’s one of the few ‘quirks’ Cyberlife gave me, why?” I watched him, he looked as if he was about to tilt his head again but stopped himself causing me to chuckle.

“I’ve noticed you do it a lot and when Nines was in my office, he did it a couple times. I was wondering if you both were programmed to do that or if he picked it up from you.”

“I believe it is in both of our programming.” I nodded and clicked play on the movie. I patted the couch and Sumo jumped up next to me. “Sumo is not allowed on the couch.”

“It’s a special occasion, one night won’t hurt, Connor.” He frowned as his LED flashed yellow.

“It’s Friday night, there is no holiday today.”

“Exactly.” I said, turning my eyes to the movie. His LED changed back to blue as he sighed. He glanced at Sumo one more time, before finally starting to watch the movie.

 “Together again

Gee, it's good

to be together again

I just can't imagine that

you've ever been gone

It's not starting over 

It's just going on

Together again…”

[marlsbuck]

— && guests may mistake me as ( haley lu richardson ), but really i am ( marley buckley + cisfemale + she/her ) and my DOB is ( 6/13/1994 ). i am applying for the ( vet tech ) position as part of the EHP and would like to live in suite ( 211 ). i should be hired because i am ( witty & empathetic ), but i can also be ( indecisive & absent-minded ) at times. personally, i like to ( dance, knit & volunteer at the zoo ) when off the clock, but that won’t interfere with work.

hi pals! we’re back with a marley mae revamp! our favorite lil cowgirl is getting the makeover she deserves, so let’s get started, shall we?

before we get too into it, though, we have a stats page and a pinterest (which is also getting a revamp before too long bUT...i digress).

lil tw moment: abuse, alcohol, drug, death mention tws. per usual, i went a little heavy on the tws just to be safe! 

- marley mae buckley was born june 13th, 1994 to finnegan and shailene buckley.

- her father is a chief exec at an oil company and her mother was a stay at home mom and socialite, the latter of which she preferred.

- the family moved to billings, montana shortly after marley was born so her father could be more involved with work. this meant her mother had more time on her hands and more time to attempt to mold marley into the perfect daughter.

- except marley liked dirt, climbing tress, and pretending to ride the family dog like a rodeo bull.

- needless to say that did not go well????

- substance abuse tw early in marley’s life, her mother mixed prescription pills and pinot, which only made the tension between the two more intense. 

- abuse tw baby marls never understood why her mother would want to self medicate, essentially checking out and missing a majority of her only child’s life, until one night after her father came home after a day of ‘meetings’. smelling like expensive scotch and cigar smoke, marley saw her father hit her mother for the first time.

-  abuse tw she didn’t witness the actual abuse often, but marley started noticing the signs more and more often. bruises around wrists, large sunglasses when it wasn’t sunny out, concealer caked around her eyes and jaw. for a while, she begged her mother to take her and leave, but marley’s mother refused - firm in her belief that she wouldn’t be able to make it on her own.

- so they endured. more often than not, marley’s mother took her pain and frustration out on her daughter. it didn’t take long for marley’s parents toxicity to turn her into an angry, resentful person. marley was around 8 when she started acting out - “accidentally” breaking things around the house, saying out of pocket things at her father’s work events or fancy dinner parties. marley was 10 the first time she left home and didn’t come back for hours on end, only to come back and realize no one had really noticed she was gone.

- when she was about 13, marley really started acting out and rebelling. she started hanging out with a rougher group of kids who were significantly older than her. even though she never took part in the more intense stuff, marley did manage to get herself into some trouble that finally managed to catch her parents’ attention.

-  one night, while out with that older, rougher group of friends, marley was arrested for a destruction of property charge. since she was a minor, her parents were called immediately and, after making a sizable donation to billings pd, made the whole thing go away.

- officially done dealing with marley and the whole “mothering” of it all (if you can call it that), her parents shipped her back to their hometown of big timber to live with her paternal grandparents.

- she tried to run away a few times (even going so far as to steal her grandfather’s work truck - even tho she didn’t get far because she didn’t know how to drive stick yet) because rebellious, but after paw made her stay and help one of their cattle give birth, marley fell in love.

- marley fell in love with every animal on the ranch - all their quirks and distinct personalities. it quickly became the home marley’d never had. it was warm and loving and full of joy and life. her grandparents became the only parents she’d ever really known.

- they were the only reason marley agreed to go back to her parents. they’d made a deal that if she behaved at “home”, she’d be able to spend the rest of her summers at the ranch.

- so marley went back to her parents and did the dance classes, and dinner parties, and even did the whole debutante thing and “came out” to society.

- at 16 she petitioned to be emancipated and a judge granted said petition. she promptly moved into the renovated barn at the ranch that her grandparents had rented out while she finished school.

- marley ended up graduating early and began attending classes at the local community college, eventually getting her associates in science all while still working on the ranch when she could.

- at 19, marley began classes at montana state, majoring in microbiology as a pre-vet track.

- death tw shortly after she finished her first year at msu, marley found out her mother passed unexpectedly. when she went to attend the services, her father effectively disowned her (even though they hadn’t spoken in years) and blamed her for her mother’s issues and death.

- marley came back to the ranch more depressed than she’d ever been and instead of dealing with the hurricane of emotions she felt, marley dropped out of school and ran

- marley drove all along the west coast, eventually settling on a cattle farm in texas.

- there, marley met literally the worst thing to ever happen to her. only a month or two after settling in texas, marley started dating wade because mess attracts mess. duh. his parents owned the farm she was working on and he gave her attention. that’s it. that’s all it took.

- abuse tw it didn’t take long for the gas lighting, lying, and cheating to start. a short six months into their relationship was when the physical abuse started. growing up, she’d always told herself that she’d never allow a man to treat her the way she’d watched her father treat her mother - that she’d be stronger than her mother and leave after the first time. finally, though, marley realized the battle her mother had fought to endure all those years of abuse and just how hard it was to muster the courage to leave. 

- to this day, marley carries around the guilt of spending years blaming her mother for being weak and missing the opportunity to apologize while she was still alive.

- eventually paw caught on and WASN’T having any of it. so he snuck down with maw in the middle of the night while wade was out on a bender and packed marley’s shit and took her back home to the ranch like the knight in shining armor that man is.

- two years of animal therapy and literal therapy, marley applied to finish her bachelors in chicago after maw suggested it. she was accepted and once again left her home behind, but this time it was to chase her dream and we’re all v proud.

- she’s been at the mlanati now for two years and has finished her bachelors and is a certified vet tech. she’s currently in her last year of undergrad and is getting ready to start applying to vet schools officially.

hcs!

- marley is a jeeple. she owns a 2008 black jeep wrangler x. 100% named it ringo. definitely has a black jeep of the family bumper sticker and let me tell you, this girl is SO proud.

- y’all will never catch this girl in shoes. she will start the day in shoes and by the time lunch rolls around she’s barefoot. the only pair of shoes she enjoys wearing are her justin boots or her vvv worn out vans. 

- she knits when she’s anxious, which is more often than not now that she’s in a new place. but it also means she’s giving out cute lil beanies and scarves to her new frens.

- loves and i mean LOVES westerns. tombstone and gunsmoke were staples growing up.

- also probably the worlds biggest dolly parton fan. if it involves dolly, marley is in.

- ALIENS, MAN. your girl loves aliens and most space things. roswell (the og and new shows) are her jam bc...y’know....cowliens.

- she has three tattoos: some wildflowers on her upper left ribs, “worthy” in her grandpa’s handwriting on her upper right forearm, and the silhouette of big timber peak at the nape of her neck.

- marley is also one of those people that doesn’t need a ton of sleep? 4-5 hours max and she’s golden.

- cold brew coffee also runs through her veins. her coffee order is a trenta cold brew with hazelnut and almond milk, thanks. it’s also probably one of the reasons she never stops moving....ever.

- big time questioning her sexuality. marley’s only ever been with men, but uuuuuhhhhh WOMEN y’know? also nb folx are v nice. we do not discriminate in this house.

- 2 cats! doc (7 y/o himalayan long hair) and ike (2 y/o munchkin). both rescues she met while volunteering at a shelter.

- snake tw would also v much like a colombian rainbow boa pls and thank

- will always make time to take a dance class or book space to just dance all her feelings out. it’s one of the few joys she has that comes without feelings of pressure or stress. 

- holds most  people at arms length. she’s more than happy to listen and support everyone around her, but is a literal steel trap when it comes to talking about herself and her past.

- alcohol/drugs tw not a drinker. buckley’s don’t have a great track record of being able to handle their liquor (never let her do shots pls), so marley sticks to the occasional blunt. esp when she’s feeling extra anxious, it calms her down and evens her out.

- she do be jumpy af! loud noises (that don’t obviously come from animals) make her anxious and shaky. it’s the *pTsD*.

- marley’s triggers include but are not limited to: grabbing her face/chin, breaking glass, loud noises - specifically yelling, general violence, the smell of vodka or scotch and cigar smoke, being grabbed from behind/picked up without warning.

wanted connections!

- travel pals! : people marley met on her trip from montana to texas! she wouldn’t have stuck around long, but she was a hot ass mess and these would have been people who met her at p close to her lowest? so seeing her at the malnati would be like meeting a whole new person. she’ll probs be hella flustered and embarrassed so, like, we love that.

- hype squaaaaaad! : marley’s self esteem is still.........nonexistent, almost. she’s all about giving the love, but is the worst at accepting it, so obviously we need someone to shove all the love and positive affirmations her way! help ya girl see her worth!

- post hook ups! : likely only one or two! marley isn’t one to hook up unless she’s feeling pretty awful about her self and needs some instant validation. can be awkward or cordial! i’m down to plot specifics!

- crushes! : unrequited or nah (lbr i’d live for unrequited pls) male, female, nb - gimmie it all! babie is ready to give all the love....kinda. from afar. bc trauma. bUT!!! leggo. lololol.

- confidant! : literally probably the only connection that’s limited to one person. they know eeeeverything. every horrid, gruesome detail about marley’s past and all her insecurities. they could be someone that met her when she was on her way to texas/she met in texas or someone she met after and got to witness one of her panic attacks post texas. aka the one person she trusts most.

- scurry folx! : pls gimmie plots where marley is at odds with someone, whether or not it’s because they scare her a lil (aka angry, aggressively loud, bully-ish type someones) or just people who can’t handle her goofy, oddball, pollyanna type personality! i. need. ANGST!! pls. ty.

- chemistry, ofc!

[mollymarymarie]

Come On Back To Me

I know, I know. This isn’t Wolfstar (which is, like 99% of what my life is made of), but my PSM (@sparrowof-thedawn) commissioned me to write some smut about Sam Kiszka (bass player from Greta Van Fleet), and I WENT OFF on it. I have a soft spot for boys in bands.  

Obviously the smut means NSFW, so use caution, friends. Also, I go through a bit of set-up, so give it a minute. 

“I don’t have time to think about it, that’s all there is to it,” you say with the smile that you were accustomed to plastering on, a smile that was becoming increasingly more common. A smile that covered the tired ache constantly hiding behind your lips.  

“No,” your best friend, Casey replies with that sarcastic drip to her voice that assures you know she is about to side-step all your bullshit. “You’re not willing to make the time.”

You take a long sip of the Americano in your hand, rolling your eyes dramatically from across the table at Starbucks. The smile on your lips became a little more genuine. It had been weeks since the two of you had been able to spend any time together at all, both of you doing medical residencies in completely different cities. It was a stark and unwelcome contrast from your school days, when you spent nearly every waking hour together.

“Easy for you to say, you live with yours. He’s literally at arm’s length every time you turn around,” you say with a scoff in your tone. You would never undermine the struggle that Casey and her husband had gone through to be together, but she still couldn’t argue that point. She could sit there and tell you that you would find someone eventually, that you would settle down, that you would find happiness, but she had found hers relatively early. They had been together for so long, Casey didn’t even know what dating meant right now.

“I know,” she says, an irritated growl forming in the back of her throat. She knows she’s losing this argument, so she turns to sentiment to win. “You just can’t see what you have. You’re too focused on what you think other people think you lack.”

“Oh?” you laugh bitterly, throwing up a dark, high-arching brow in disbelief. Again, an easy point for her to make in defense. She wasn’t the one whose last relationship ended in flames because her boyfriend of two years decided the distance was too much and their history wasn’t enough. Granted, it had been over a year since they broke up, but the point remained.

“Yes,” she insists with an exaggerating hiss. “First of all, let’s ignore looks, shall we?”

“We’d have to,” you mutter into your paper cup.

“I heard that, shut the fuck up,” she quips immediately with a snap of her fingers, in some dangerous border between playful and murderous. “There is so much magic in you, fam. You graduated with a doctorate, so you’re hella smart. You give your best friend pep talks when she goes through her third nervous breakdown of the month. You continue to love with your whole life despite all the shit that people have given you,” she clears her throat and you hear the name of your ex not-so-subtly buried in the cough that followed. You roll your eyes again.

“Which doesn’t matter because all people see is this,” you say, gesturing down your torso with both hands. Across the table, Casey’s mouth snaps shut and her eyes narrow.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Everybody wants a skinny super model. And I am not.”

“Neither the fuck am I!” she shouts, gathering the attention of damn near everyone in the coffee shop with you. For an introvert, she tends to be rather vocal. “If you’re an eclectic taste, then so am I. Still a lot of people that have the tattoo stigma, you know.” Off-handedly, she brushes over the bursts of color inked across her shoulders.

“But that’s a choice you made. I didn’t make the choice to be my size.”

“Same, though?” she said, her features softening a bit. “Literally the only reason I’m sort of thin is because of the celiac with my total shit diet,” she says with a smirk. “But it also gives me really bad skin and this stupid belly pooch that I’ll never get rid of and super thin hair.”

“Which you can –”she interrupts your argument.

“You, on the other hand,” she leans in, placing her face into her hands, propped up on the tabletop. “Look at you. Curls for miles, dark and silky and defined. Hair that a guy could lose a hand in and would be grateful to.” With one hand, you subconsciously twirl your hair around it in a whirl before tossing it over your shoulder. “You skin is nearly flawless, dotted with freckles like the damn stars in the sky but twice as beautiful.” You could feel a blush creeping up from the base of your throat. Your platonic soulmate had always had a way with words. There’s a reason people mistake you for a couple, more often than not.

She continues. “Your lips are so much fuller than mine and when you put on that deep red color, Jesus H. Christ, if I was into girls.”

“You are into girls.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“You literally could’ve just said ‘if I was single’.” An expression crosses over her face, all pursed lips and puffed cheeks, like being single was so unrealistic of an option (she’s sickeningly in love with her spouse, it’s disgusting) that she hadn’t even considered that. In her defense, she had figured out the bisexual thing pretty late in the game, long after she was married.

“Shut up,” she laughs, high and bright. “The point is you are young and beautiful and you have time.” You open your mouth to argue, but she speaks first. “You will have time, after this residency. Literally the only time I see James right now is for dinner and sex.”

“Separately, I hope,” you laugh against the lip of your coffee cup.

“You’d be surprised and disgusted by how often they overlap,” she says, raising her left brow. It’s like a bizarre innuendo trademark. If she’s making a sex joke, that eyebrow goes up and it’s so sharply pointed that it just makes her expression look so much more scandalous.

“I don’t even want that. I’m not even interested in the sex. Just the company.”

“Bless your little grace soul. The company is the best part, anyway,” she says with a shrug, taking the last sip of her chai latte. “Speaking of company, you still talking to Sammy?”

You roll your eyes again, wondering if you could do permanent damage with how often you’ve used those muscles in the last ten minutes. “No, I don’t talk to Sam anymore.”

“Wait, wait, hold on. Since, uh, when?” she asks with a twirl of her finger.

“Do you know who Sam is now?” you say with a sarcastic huff. “He’s not Sammy Boy from undergrad anymore. He’s Sam Fucking Kiszka and he’s been on SNL and he’s touring with Greta and he’s probably with a different girl every night and those girls don’t look like me.”

“I swear to God, I’ll murder you in your sleep tonight if you keep this up.”

“You know what I mean.” Irritation seeps into your voice. You love your PSM, but she doesn’t get this. If anything, she was probably Sam’s type when you were all hanging out together in your little college town. Sure, there was that one night, but you were drunk, and Sam was drunk, and nothing happened. It certainly seemed that way the next morning, anyway, considering it was something that neither of you ever brought up again.

 ----------------- 

“I’m gonna give you my love!” Sam was yelling-slash-singing Led Zeppelin at the top of his lungs again and if it wasn’t so damn adorable, it would be annoying. Hell, if it was anyone else, it would be annoying, but it’s Sam and, unfortunately for you, you’re rather smitten with Sam.

“I’m taking this away from you,” Casey whispers with a syrupy smile as she slipped the square bottle out from Sam’s fingers. He barely even noticed.

“Oh, let him sing. It’s our last night together,” you say with a sigh, trying not to focus too much on that part. Tomorrow, you’d be moving to a new town, a bigger town, to start med school and Sam and his brothers (including Danny) would be setting out on their first tour.

It was a pretty fucking big deal, actually. GVF had been getting a lot of attention lately, so this first tour was sort of a long-play audition for some big-shot record executive and, if they did well, they were golden. And you knew they would do well because that’s what they always do.

“Hang on, stop right there,” Sam calls out, buried somewhere in a laugh, “You hate my singing.” With that look on his face that often showed up in your dreams, Sam saunters over to you, one of his dark eyebrows raised to its full capacity, his ever-lengthening brown hair, streaked with highlights given to him by the sun, falling down over the sharp edges of his cheeks.

“I don’t hate it,” you say under your breath as you take another sip from the tumbler in your hand. It was more like a gulp. This close, Sammy tends to make you nervous.

“You really are going to miss me, aren’t you?” From where you’re leaning against the kitchen counter, Sam encircles you with his arms, holding himself just far enough away that you could still smell the whiskey on his breath, the floral notes from the product in his hair.

“I’ll hardly notice you’re missing,” you lie, blatantly.

“That’s not what Casey tells me,” he says under a knowing smirk and you shoot a glare at your best friend, who gives you a brazen wink in return, lip curled up and everything, just before she vanishes into the living room to find her significant other.

“Casey is a damn liar,” you reply with a laugh and try to ignore what looks like adoration in Sammy’s expression at the sound of happiness in your voice. You read too far into him.

“Who else is going to give you shit for getting the only A on a test that everyone else failed? And don’t say Casey because she wasn’t in that class or she would’ve had an A, too.” As he speaks, his arms curl in until he’s nearly pressed against you. God, you wish he would let go.

“What about you?” you strike back, poking him in the chest and wishing you could spread your fingers out over his sharply defined collarbones pushing back from beneath his shirt. “Who will be there to make fun of you for dancing to Whitney Houston when no one is watching?”

He wrinkles his nose at you, and you melt a little inside. “Whitney is an icon, alright?”

“So I’ll miss you. A little.” You roll your eyes. You do that a lot in Sam’s direction. “Not like you. You won’t even remember my name a month from now.” The playful spark in Sam’s eyes goes out like a doused flame. In fact, he physically startles a little, pushing back from you.

“Won’t even remember your name?” he repeats with what sounds like hurt in his voice, but you know better than that. You feel like you’re always giving Sam feelings that he doesn’t have for you, hearing intonations in his voice that aren’t there, reading into little things he does that probably don’t have meaning to him. “Is that what you really think of me?”

You backtrack a little, concerned with this change in mood. “You’ll be too busy to miss me, Sam. A different city every night, a different party every night, a different girl.” That last part, you add under your breath, certain he’s too drunk to catch it, anyway.

“You realize that outside of the band, you and Casey and James are my best friends, right? We’ve been friends for the last four years. But you think I won’t even remember your name.” He pushes away from you, storming around the kitchen as he drags his hands through his thick, wavy hair, and you’re left to stand in stunned silence. Sam doesn’t get angry. Not like this.

“It was a joke, Sammy,” you say, even though it certainly hadn’t been a joke when you said it. It was actually the worst of your fears and it had been consuming you for weeks.

“No, I think you mean that,” Sam says, his voice escalating a bit as he circles the island of your kitchen, hands still buried in his hand, coming back to where you’re still standing.

“Alright, maybe a little bit, but I mean,” a blush bubbles up to encompass your face, knowing what you’re about to say to this boy you’ve had a crush on for four years, “Look at you.”

Sam stops in front of you. Stares at you. You squirm a bit under it. “I’m too busy looking at you,” he retorts, his eyes traveling across the features of your face. You see them settling over a patch of freckles underneath your eye, following them over the bridge of your nose to the mirrored opposite side. His eyelashes are so long, so dark that when he lowers his head to look at you through them, it darkens his gaze, hollowing his warm brown eyes until his pupils look blown wide. This is the way you always imagined him looking at you, but never thought possible.

“Not much to see,” you reply, a defense mechanism. With a snarl, his lip twitches up over his canines, they glint in the low light of the kitchen, the moonlight coming in from outside.

“How are you so goddamn stubborn?” he huffs out, slipping his hand along your neck, underneath the curtain of your dark curls, his thumb settling over your windpipe. He leans forward, unsettling your lips with his own, just slightly. The bittersweet of the whiskey is still on his lips and, you find out, on his tongue, as he deepens the kiss and pulls you close.

But he’s right. You’re stubborn. You’re so stubborn, he’s too drunk, and you’re both leaving. Doing this now doesn’t mean a fucking thing. You pull away, cursing yourself. Cursing him for waiting this long. Cursing the universe for making him who he is and you who you are.

“Wow, you’ve had way too much to drink, Sammy,” you laugh off, playfully pushing him toward the living room, where you knew, by now, Casey and James had crashed on the couch. “I think you’d better sleep it off. I’ll see you in the morning.” Quickly, you escape to your bedroom, where you fully convince yourself that it could’ve been anyone. He would’ve kissed anyone.

You don’t cry, you don’t often give yourself that luxury, but you do let yourself take a mental catalogue of this taste in your mouth. Warm, sharp, aching. And so, so bitter.

 ---------------- 

The coffee date and the dinner and the shopping were over far too soon. Work started again the next morning, Casey was back in a town that was too fucking far away, and you were left in your one-bedroom apartment that felt too small and too big all at the same time.

Until your phone vibrated on the bedside table. In the dark, it lit up the whole room. Your cat scurried away from it in a panic from the unexpected noise it brought to the silence. For a moment, you considered just leaving it until morning. It most likely wasn’t work – this wasn’t your on-call weekend anyway. It could’ve been Casey, but she’d gotten home several hours before (which you knew because you always forced her to text when she made it).

Whoever it was could wait. For now, you just wanted to be alone. No, that wasn’t quite right. You wanted to be alone with someone, but there was nobody to be alone with. It was just you and you cat, Mickie, like it was every night, like it had been every night for almost a year.

Despite yourself, you glanced over. It was a Snap. That alone was enough to pique your interest. Casey hardly ever sent an unsolicited Snap (she only kept it because of you, and she only replied to keep up the streak), and there weren’t a lot of people who would send you a Snap at this hour (it was almost two in the morning) on a Sunday night.

Curiosity got the better of you. You unlock your phone and pull down the notifications bar. The Snap is from Sammy. Your thumb hovers over the notification for an embarrassingly long time. By then, it had been weeks since you last talked to Sam.

Against your better judgement, you open the Snap. Immediately, a soft smile rushes over your face, a blush trailing closely behind it. It’s Sam – a selfie of Sam on stage with the neck of his bass in one hand, the phone in the other, and a screaming crowd behind him.

 The tagline reads, “Missing you more than you think.”

 Goddammit. God fucking dammit. What the shit was he trying to do? You had already convinced yourself to forget about the kiss, to forget about your feelings, to forget about Sammy. He’d made it difficult – he kept in near constant contact with you since undergrad. It was going on five years later, and you still talked to him daily. Sometimes, it was only a text, sometimes it was only a picture, rarely there was a phone call (which were always very awkward because you’re good with words on a screen, but in person, not so much).

Every now and then, only a handful of times over the last five years, you and Sam got to see each other in person. Sometimes it was at a GVF show, sometimes it was with a group of friends. Once, he showed up at your apartment with no warning. That one was rough, but ultimately, nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. It had always never happened.

Finally, you had decided. It was enough. Nothing would ever happen with Sam. Maybe it would make you a bad friend for cutting off contact with him completely, but it was so fucking hard to talk to him every single day and not imagine what things could’ve been like if you hadn’t pushed him away that night. If he hadn’t left, if you hadn’t left. If you started something sooner.

The texts from Sam slowed to a stop, eventually. Until now. It was so frustrating, because you knew, absolutely, without a doubt, even if he remembered the kiss, it was just a kiss. No meaning, no feelings. Just a drunken kiss between two friends. That’s what it was to him.

You consider not replying. You consider removing him from your Snapchat. You even went so far as to consider blocking him. But you couldn’t do that. As hard as it was, you could never stop being in love with Sam. Oh, fuck. That’s what this is. You’re in love with him.

With a deep breath, you hold your phone out, the front-facing camera on, and you flick on the lamp next to your bed. In the low, yellow lamplight, you place your curls just right, tilt your head just right, open your mouth just enough, and snap. No filters, no fillers. Just you.

 In the caption, you write: “Sorry for the radio silence. I miss you, too.” Send.

 Even though his picture was from stage, you knew the show had long been over. You had an internal clock for what time of night he was usually on stage (most often so you would know when to expect a text or a call), and you faithfully followed the cities in the tour. Well, you used to. The tour he was on now was mostly a mystery ever since you’d cut him out of your life.

It’s mere seconds before you get a Snap back. This one is in real time. No stage, no lights, no fans. Just Sammy. His chocolate brown eyes look up, right into the lens of the camera, leaving you to draw in a sharp, unsteady breath. His hair is longer now, still kissed with sunlight, tossed in front of both broad shoulders. He’s wearing that same denim shirt from the night you kissed five years ago, but the top four buttons are open, showcasing the strong, sharp cords of muscle that run along his throat and meet in the center, just between his collarbones.

 It reads: “God, it’s good to see your face.”

 Fuck. This Snap was calculated. He sent this with purpose. He had to know what this would incite. Sure, that kiss hadn’t ended to anyone’s satisfaction five years ago, but he had to know, right? He had to know that you didn’t want to stop him that night, right?

Fuck it. Two could play at his game. With your heart beating in your throat, you crane your neck down into your pillow, arranging your curls to look artfully splayed around your temples, and you turn your head away from the camera, the collar of the T-shirt that you had fallen asleep in stretched out to give him a good view of the nape of your neck.

 “Yours is still as cute as ever.”

 This was a huge risk. In all the time that you’d known Sammy, you had never once admitted to anything. Never admitted that he was cute, never admitted to that kiss, never admitted to your crush. And you just had, accompanied by a slightly uninhibited photo.

His reply is immediate. The photo of him is hardly different, his eyes are a little wider, his brows are raised a little higher, his mouth is hanging slightly ajar. But it’s not the photo that catches your attention. It’s the message attached to it.

 “I’m in town. Are you home?”

 Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. You should have followed their touring schedule more closely, you would’ve been more prepared for this. Fuck. Your mind races through a thousand different scenarios. Is he reading into these Snaps the same way you are? Does he realize what a 2AM visit to a girl at her apartment alone implies? Sammy was always oblivious, but not that oblivious.

You Snap back a blank picture, a black screen of the inside of your palm. You’re losing your nerve a bit, but you still have the guts to reply, making every implication crystal clear.

 “Home alone. Want to come over?”

 Initially, your realization that you were gray-asexual was kind of a strange awakening, but it made absolute sense to you, once it was explained fully. And it fit. You don’t often experience a need for physical intimacy, not the way most people do. It comes and goes (sometimes at random), and you can usually take care of that rare need yourself and then get on with your life.

Except when it came to Sam. He was always the exception. Random men could express interest in you, in your body, and you remined neutral. There wasn’t that spark with them, with strangers. But that spark grew into a wildfire with Sammy. The more you knew about him, the more you fell in love with him, and the more you wanted from him. With him.

Your phone lights up the room again. You expected another Snap, but it’s a call. From Sammy. You answer without hesitating, anxious to hear what his voice sounds like, whether there’s an ache hiding in his throat, whether he sounds like he wants you like you want him.

“Hi, Sammy,” you say into the receiver. He breaths out.

“Hi,” he replies, all breath. “I’m three minutes away. I was going to wait until I got there, but I felt like I’d forget everything I wanted to say when I got there.”

“Everything you wanted to say?” you repeat carefully, hoping the things that he wanted to say aligned with the things you wanted to hear.

“I don’t know what I did, but I know I must’ve done something to make you stop talking to me. It’s a typical male cliché, I know, but I want you to tell me. I want to fix it.” There’s a whine in his voice that you’ve never heard before and, while you want to make it go away, you also really like the sound that it makes coming up from his throat.

“You didn’t do anything, Sammy,” you sigh into the phone, propping your head up in your head, your elbow buried deep in the pillow. “It was me. I had to stop.”

“If it was because of that kiss, I …” he trails off, as if unsure if he’s supposed to apologize for that night. “No, fuck that, I’m not sorry for that. I will say I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, but I –” You try to interject, unsuccessfully.

“It wasn’t that, I just –”

“I won’t apologize for thinking about that kiss every night for the last 5 years.” You go quiet, listening to Sammy breathe raggedly on the other end. “But I need to know.” He pauses for such a long time that you would’ve thought the call disconnected, if not for the static in the silence and the breaths that filled the dead air. “Did I go too far that night?”

After barely a pause, you answer. “No.” But you can’t convince yourself to say more.

“Then why did you push me away?” That whine resurfaces in his voice and you want to say anything to make it go away, because right now, it sounds a lot like hurt.

“Because I didn’t think I could have you.” A deep breath passes through your lips as you close your eyes. This isn’t really the conversation you wanted to have with him just now.

“Was it because I was leaving? Because we were both leaving,” he tries to explain the frailty in that argument, and he was right. It hadn’t just been him that was leaving you back then.

“Yes, that, but …” Your voice trails off, not wanting to finish that thought. This is the part where everything gets awkward, because these aren’t things you ever wanted to admit to Sammy. You didn’t want to tell him that he was way out of your league, or that he deserved someone better than you, or that you weren’t sure you could always give him what he needed. Because, yes, Sam was your exception, and you wanted him in ways that you wanted nobody else, but it might not always be that way. Sammy deserved someone who wanted to give him everything, always, all of the time. No strings, no exceptions, no restrictions.

“But what?” he insists gently, and you realize you’re going to have to spell it out for him.

“Sammy,” you say, your voice quivering. “I’m not pretty enough for you.” An angry breath comes from Sammy’s end just before the line goes dead. You hold the phone out. Call ended.

An impatient knock at your front door sends panic into your chest and you try to ease your shaking hands, but it’s unsuccessful. As you make your way to the front door, you try to smooth out the curls of your hair, you tug at your T-shirt to cover more of your legs, even though you have a pair of shorts on underneath. Sammy hasn’t ever seen you like this and it’s terrifying.

The moment you unlock the door, Sam doesn’t hesitate. His hands are against your face and he’s pulling you against him, and you let him. God, you let him. His lips eagerly find their way to yours and his tongue follows quickly after, exploring and tasting and moaning.

Jesus, the sounds from his throat are indecent. Obscene. The sounds your mouths make together are explicit. As he crosses the threshold to your apartment, he kicks the door closed behind him and pulls you back with him, letting you press him against the door. At first, you stop yourself from putting all of your weight against him, you ease back, but he’s ten steps ahead of you, and he’s already considered everything that might hold you back.

His fingers bury themselves underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding up around your ribcage and he tightens his grip. Your feet unsteady underneath you and you fall into him. He doesn’t make a sound other than the satisfied hum escaping through your joined lips.

“God, your skin is so fucking soft,” he breaths into your mouth just before he violently pulls the shirt over your head, only to let his lips travel down the expanse of your neck. You tilt your head to let him at whatever skin he wants to put his mouth on.

It turns out, Sammy is keen to put his mouth on every possible inch of your skin. Without letting his mouth part from yours, he walks you back toward your bedroom, and the two of you trip on everything in the path there. With every stumble, Sammy laughs against your lips, both of you working on unfastening the buttons of his denim shirt. Eventually, he sheds it on your bedroom floor, and you let your hands explore the uncharted areas of his bare chest.

His eyes stay locked onto yours as he coaxes you onto the bed, where he kneels with one of your legs in between his. As he leans down to slip his tongue into your mouth again, you feel him pressed hard to your thigh, and he curves his hips up to get more friction.

When his lips move down, kissing along the edges of your black bra, he slips his hands underneath you, unclasping the hooks of that bra. As he starts to pull it away, you hold it to your chest, a bright pink blush blooming in your cheeks. His expression softens as he places his hand over yours, leaning down to place a delicate kiss to your nose.

“I don’t get it,” he says with a soft laugh. His hands, with yours inside it, move up, until he has them pinned above your head. “How do you not see what I see?”

“What do you see?” you ask, a hushed tone that doesn’t sound like your voice floats out.

A smile crosses Sammy’s lips as he pulls away the fabric concealing you, letting his eyes flutter down your bare chest. At the sight of your uncovered skin, he darts his tongue out to wet his lips before pulling his bottom lip into his teeth, his pupils dark and wide. His fingers follow the path that his eyes forge for them and you arch into his touch at your breast.

His eyes glance up to meet yours again. “I see skin that deserves to be kissed until it trembles underneath my lips. Skin that forms a beautiful shape with hills and valleys and stories and songs. Skin that holds the soul of the woman I have been in love with for longer than she would ever believe because she is so stubborn,” he smiles, peppering soft, tender kisses to the skin he so poetically described. “Christ, is she stubborn,” he laughs.

“No more than you,” you pout playfully as he works to remove the rest of your clothes and you’re much less reluctant to let him. When you are laid bare, he sheds his own clothes and you marvel at the sight of him, sun-kissed and naked and absolutely fucking magnificent.

“I meant what I said,” he croons, his voice dropping deep as he circles around to the foot of your bed, his eyes lit with a new fire. “That thing about trembling, you know.” As he climbs onto the bed, he pushes your legs apart, wider and wider, kissing up your inner thigh.

“Sammy,” you caution. In your last relationship, this had never been very successful for you. You were afraid that trend would continue, and Sammy would get frustrated over it.

“Please,” he breathed out, warm and wet against your skin, and just his breath against you made you shiver in anticipation. You nod in agreement, and he spreads you open even further. Almost timidly, he pushes the very tip of his tongue into the open space between your legs, soft and slow and careful, dragging the full breadth and width of his tongue behind.

“Oh,” you breath out indecently, a rattled breath from your lungs, as Sammy’s tongue reached the crux of his ascent. Just like he promised, you tremble underneath him.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, gripping your calf and you can feel him arching his hips into the mattress for a little extra friction. “God, make that sound for me again.” With his tongue widened, he drags it along the entire width of you, dipping inside, curling and uncurling within, fucking you with his tongue. He moves out, circling your entire entrance with his tongue, dripping and scorching, before lazily running over your crux, slowly, slowly, slowly.

You make the sound for him again. And again. And again. Those sounds get louder as his tongue increases in speed, feverishly, furiously lapping at your skin, back and forth, up and down, making tight, wet patterns with his tongue until you’re ready to come apart.

“Fuck,” he mumbles again, into your skin, sending the vibrations of his speech into your very core, and he pushes his tongue in with them, deep down until you can feel his lips pressed to yours. He purses his lips there, kissing you, his tongue still driving inside, and when he moans, it’s like an electric shock to your body.

“Don’t stop,” you call out, your voice feeling thin as your body finds the edge. Agonizingly slowly, he pulls his tongue up again, to the same throbbing, swollen skin, and he sucks at it, swirling his tongue within his lips. As you bury your first into his dark, wavy hair, he lays into a rhythm, daring to press two wet fingers into the depths of you. He pushes in and pulls out, matching the pace of his fingers to the rhythm of his tongue, fucking you hard and fast until your vision goes white, and every muscle tenses, and you call out Sammy’s name into the dark, waves of pleasure coursing through you until you’re throbbing around his fingers.

“Oh my God,” he moans, his breath still hot and sticky against you before he moves up, kissing every inch of skin in his path. “You come so fucking well. You look so good right now.”

When he gets to your mouth, you turn his head, pulling his earlobe into your teeth. “Fuck me, Sammy,” you whisper into his ear and every part of him goes limp against you, save one.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck, yes,” he mutters and moans, and you can feel him hard between your legs. He reaches down, swirling the head of his cock at your entrance for only a moment before pressing in, gently at first until his hips are flush to yours. His hips swell and break viciously, pressing into you with a zealous need over and over, his fingers kneading at the skin at your hip that you used to hate, but you can no longer hate it, for the way that Sammy caresses it.

He whispers into your ear, all the things you ever wanted to hear him say. You’re so beautiful. I’ve wanted you for so long. God, I love you. I love you. I love you. And it’s been five years, but it feels like five days, and you’ve never felt this good about anything in your life.

When Sammy comes, his dark brown eyes roll back with his head, his neck craned so tight that you can finger that cord of muscle that meets in the center of his collarbone. The moan pulling up from his throat is like the thrum of a bass string, deep and harmonious and reverberating, and it echoes in your chest until you feel filled up by it, too.

When he comes down, he drags his hand through his hair, hair that is longer than it’s ever been, and it looks so much darker under moonlight. His fingers pull through the tangled mess of his hair and he lets them trail down his chest, down his waist, along his hips. Those fingers find your skin again as he pulls out with an indelicate, satiated moan, and he wraps you up in his arms, kissing the back of your neck. You feel sleep pulling, but you fight vehemently.

His words continue, the words that he had been whispering in your ear when he’d been buried within you, and you try so hard to listen, but your eyelids are so heavy now.

His speech turns to song, singing sweetly and softly, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear until you’re sure you could fall asleep at any moment. “You’re the one I want. You’re the one I need. You’re the one I had. So come on back to me.”

You dream about holding his hand and staying a while.

[bqstqnbruin]

Move-in Day

I really don’t have a lot to say before this except for the fact that I’ve been doing work and staring at my computer screen since ten this morning and it’s currently just after nine so TBD on if I write or post anything else but I’m feeling like my writing isn’t good anyway especially since my Matthew Tkachuk stuff isn’t getting notes  JK just ignore me enjoy this!

_______________________________

“I’m dropping it, I’m slipping!” You say to your roommate as you carry the couch down the hallway to your new apartment. “Jesus Christ.” You say as you plop the couch down in the middle of the already narrow hallway. Your roommate sits down on it, you doing the same, moving the hair out of your face and wiping the sweat that had formed on your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“How is it,” your roommate says, trying to catch her breath, “we both work out, and we yet can’t move a couch from the elevator to our new place?” 

You were moving in with your best friend from undergrad; you were starting your Master’s at UPenn in August while she was working in the city. Your lease started yesterday, so you were starting to move in today, including the couch.

“I have no idea. But how is it that our brothers aren’t helping move the furniture and instead insist on taking in the lamps?” 

“Lazy fuckers,” she mutters under her breath. She takes a deep breath, “Ok. We have to stop being a fire hazard and get this down the rest of the hall. Are you ready?” 

“No.” You say as you both get off the couch to grab an end. 

“Do you guys want some help with that?” You hear a deep voice coming from behind you, another laughing as the two watch you struggle with the couch. 

You whip around, nearly dropping the couch again to see none other than Nolan Patrick and Travis Konecny standing in the doorway of the apartment next to yours. “You’re fucking joking,” you say quiet enough that your roommate can hear you, but not the guys. “Uh, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No. Please. Help.” Your roommate says as the two come over to you, each taking an end from the two of you. “We’re this one, next to you,” she runs ahead, opening the door for them. 

“We’re fit we promise, we just can’t carry a couch!” you call, not wanting them to think you’re helpless girls just waiting for a man to come to their call.

“Trust me, we can tell you’re fit.” Travis looks over his shoulder at you, winking. 

You can feel your already red cheeks getting even more red, as your roommate mouths “Oh my God!” to you. 

“So, you’re my new neighbors?” Nolan asks. 

“Yeah, we are,” you say, as the four of you walk into the now not empty apartment. 

“What a place you have here,” Travis says, plopping himself down on the couch. “This isn’t everything, is it?”

“You really think that two women have just a couch? What are we, college guys?” your roommate pips up, sitting down on the floor. “Why was that couch so hard to move? Where are our brothers with the rest of our stuff?” 

“I could see them staying by the truck and us doing all of this if we’re being completely honest.” You say, plopping down next to her, feeling yourself getting more tired by the minute from moving just the couch.

“We can help,” Nolan says, both of you snapping out the tired trance you were in, “We were just about to go for a workout, but moving some furniture would count, too.” 

“Oh my god, no, you don’t have to.” The last thing you wanted to do today was spend it drooling over the only two hockey players that you liked on the Flyers. 

“Uh, no, ignore her, she’s overtired. We could use help if you don’t mind. We’ll even treat you guys to dinner or drinks or something later as a thank you.” Your roommate says, pushing out you the door and out of earshot of the boys, “What are you doing? We have four years worth of stuff to move in and two useless siblings that aren’t helping us for shit.” 

“I cannot spend our move-in day drooling over those boys.” You tell her, probably just loud enough for the boys to pick up on. You turn around to see them on their phones, waiting for you two to tell them what to do. If they heard what you said, they didn’t seem to care. 

“Why does that matter? Travis has been drooling over you this entire time? Why not mix that slobber.” She says, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“Ok. Disgusting. I’m not living with you now.” you playfully shove her, both of you burst out laughing. “C’mon guys, let’s empty this truck.” 

The four of you spent the rest of the time going up and down from the truck to your apartment, moving furniture, boxes, unpacking, yelling at your brothers each time you went to the truck for just sitting there instead of actually helping. What would have taken the two of you all day was finished before dinner. You even had most of the kitchen and living room stuff unpacked, making it look like people actually lived there instead of just an empty apartment with a couch. All four of you were exhausted, sweaty, and hungry. 

“Ok, I say, we all take showers because we’re repulsive, and then meet back here and we’ll treat you guys to a thank you dinner?” you say, using all of your remaining strength to get off the floor. 

“I get the shower first!” your roommate stands up and shuts the door, turning on the water before you can even protest. 

“What the fuck?” you yell, laughing. “I can’t believe she just did that.” You turn to the boys, who are trying to contain their laughter as your roommate highjacks the bathroom for what will probably be the next twenty to thirty minutes. 

“I think I’m going to follow her lead and go shower, too. Since it is my shower, ya know.” Nolan said, running his hands through his now grimey hair. He leaves without saying another word, leaving just you and Travis alone in the living room. 

“So, uh, how long have you known your roommate?” Travis asks, unable to make eye contact with you.

“Uh, we met four years ago when we were freshmen; we graduated with the same major.” 

“Oh, uh. Cool.” 

“Are you ok? Do you want anything?” You ask him, getting up to get yourself a glass of water.

“Uh, just nervous, I guess?” he says, following you.

“Nervous? About what?” 

“You.”

You turn to look at him; he’s blushing and fidgeting like an antsy child. “I’m not gonna, like, kill you or anything,” you say, laughing awkwardly. 

“Yeah, I figured that.” He laughs, awkwardly, too. You knew him as this NHL tough guy, his cousin apologizes to people when he gets a penalty, while Travis has literally said, ‘I’ll fuck you up. Do it anytime.’ “Uh, actually. I don’t do this ever, but after we grab dinner, do you maybe, wanna go and grab some drinks or hang out at my place?” 

You can’t help but blush at a nervous Travis Konecny asking you out. But you just met him. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” Was all you could tell him. No way could TK be interested in you.